#this goes for you too HOWARD

[hurtcomforted]

peggy. my girl. talk to me. you were there when steve was gearing up to save bucky. you were with him on the plane. and you let him jump out with only a plastic shield and a show helmet?

[murcielagatito]

barbara and gerald are so queerplatonic like just look at them they love eachother so much and have kids together and live together and eat cute lil lunches together that is a gay husband and his lesbian wife and they love eachother so much. like ugh <3

[reestallized]

A little bit of Mr everything crisis (when he's possessed)

Original image

[espinosaurusrexex]

Celeste

FallenAngel!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader AU

summary: Heaven is not what they tell you. The celestials don’t live in harmony and the devil is not as far as you might think. He’s vicious in his ways to seduce every being - makes even the mighty fall from grace. And one of them happens to be your guardian angel. When James is banished from the heavens, he is forced to amend his sins on earth. What did he do wrong, you might ask? Well, he fell for the one he watched over.

a/n: I thought I’ve read a FallenAngel!Bucky fic on here before. But I couldn’t find it. So please, if you know it, tag me. Anyway, this is my take on the au.

word count: 20.3k (good lord, someone take my computer away)

warnings: this might offend some people (remember this is my fantasy world - I don’t know much about angels and the whole shebang), soulmate trope, the devil, also God?, jealousy/envy, mentions of killing and abuse, banishment and punishments, he falls first (literally lmao), fluff and wholesomeness, agony, angst (of course, with happy end!), smut (wingplay, Bucky‘s got heavenly dick, Virgin!Bucky, size kink, cum play) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

all image credit goes to @animarvelita on TikTok (there's more at the end)

James.

Wake up, James.

Wake up!

The wind hits his lashes before he opens his eyes. He’s falling. He’s falling and there’s nothing he can do. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s eerie outside, you note as your towel glides over the countertop. The entire window of the diner displays dark clouds. Dark clouds that will soon bring the heavy rain Old Lee has been mumbling about for days now. 

Not too many people believe what the crazy farmer says but you can’t help but notice how much he really understands of the world. 

Nick hits the little golden bell by the serving hatch and you take the fresh sandwiches to a table by the door. 

“Anything else I can get you?”

“We’re good, honey.”

You just nod as your eyes stay focused on the small parking lot outside. You wipe your hands on your apron and return to the counter when the first drop of rain hits the window pane.

❁ ❁ ❁

Branches are aching beneath his weight when he crashes through the trees. A deep thud echoes in the woods as his body hits the ground. It’s raining. 

Every tragedy needs rain.

❁ ❁ ❁

"Are you alright, dear?" Peggy, one of the regulars, a wise old lady, asks and points to your hand that's settled above your chest. 

You clear your throat. "I'm fine. Just a frog in my throat." You nod with a tight smile. Something seems to have knocked the air out of your lungs. But you've been feeling like you are coming down with something for a few days now. 

"Must be the weather," Howard comment's next to Peggy, and his newspaper crumbles beneath his touch. 

You turn and refill their coffee mugs. "Yeah... must be." But you can't shake the feeling it has brought to you. 

"It's always the weather." Peggy nods before the door to the diner opens and Old Lee enters, his muddy boots dirtying the checkered floors. You scrunch your nose. You'd be the one cleaning that up later, Scott surely won't do it. 

"This ain't a normal April storm, folks." His hat tips before he sits at the counter in front of you. "You look like you’ve been trampled by a cow.”

"It's just the weather," you say and place a cup of hot tea in front of him. That's just Stan: brutally honest and strangely right about everything. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Pain is strange. His feet get caught in the thorned bushes. Golden blood is the only evidence of his path.

And it’s slowly turning black.

❁ ❁ ❁

The storm outside intensifies, the rain hammering against the diner's windows with an unrelenting force. Old Lee's words linger in the air, stirring a sense of unease among the patrons. You glance outside, noticing the darkness creeping in as if it's swallowing everything in its path.

A shiver runs down your back as you remember how much Pietro would have loved this storm. Your mind drifts back to the memory of him. He always found solace in the chaos of nature, seeing beauty even in the fiercest storms.

But he's is gone now, lost to you in a way that is irreversible. The ache in your chest intensifies as you try to push away the memories, focusing instead on your tasks at hand.

Stan’s voice is low and gravelly when he murmurs again. "You can't outrun the storm, kid. It's coming for all of us, whether we're ready or not."

His words are chilling, but you shake it off, forcing a smile as you refill his tea. 

"We'll weather this storm just like we always do." Peggy chimes in as her hand lands on yours with her calming touch. But your heart is hammering in your chest, still. Something feels off. As if a piece fell out of place, waiting to be discovered, and raving to make a mess. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s cold and muddy here, no comfort in sight. But he’ll venture on until he reaches you. His soul is pulled to your very presence. 

He needs to find you. Needs to amend his wrongs. Though is it really wrong to love?

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s dark out when you hang your apron in your locker and wave a short goodbye to Nick. Pulling your coat tightly around you in an attempt to brace yourself for the wind, you step outside into the deluge. The rain lashes against your skin, soaking you to the bone on your walk through deserted streets and cold concrete. 

You sigh thinking about everyone that made it home dry, probably sitting in their beds right now, watching the rain roll down their window pane with a hot cup of cocoa in hand. 

But that seems to postpone itself, you realize as you abruptly halt. You look around. This isn’t your usual route home. But something pulled you off your intended path and toward an unfamiliar alleyway. Confusion mingles with a strange sense of anticipation as you find yourself drawn deeper into the darkness. 

Your head is screaming at you. This is dangerous. You shouldn’t be doing this. Why are your feet moving anyway?

And then you see it. Or rather... him?

A figure stands at the end of the alley, obscured by shadows and rain, but there's something about him that sets your heart racing.

"Hello?" you call out tentatively, your voice barely audible over the storm. You hate how weak you sound. 

He steps forward into the dim light, his features illuminated by a flickering streetlamp. Dark hair and a strong yaw, wide muscular shoulders, his arms are adorned by silver cuffs. His whole being is well over six feet. But he seems even taller as something wide reaches from behind him, almost hugging his shoulders and prodding up towards the sky. He steps forward again and your breath hitches in your throat when you can finally make out the grey feathery wings standing from behind his back.

But you don’t run. You don’t even stumble back. Your feet are frozen to the ground. Then his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze. 

“I’ve been searching for you,” he says, his voice almost like a whisper to the wind. Calling and marvelous. 

Everything inside you tells your how absurd this situation is. How fast you should be running anywhere but here right now. But the way your heart races doesn’t feel like fear. In fact, you’re not even scared. More fascinated, awestruck, intrigued. You know he wont hurt you. 

“I don’t know you.” You manage to stammer, your eyes still locked with his. The tension overwhelming and electrifying all at once.

“That should be obvious.” He points to his wings smiling amused, a smile that you know holds a universe of secrets and promises. You want to learn them all, you catch yourself thinking as your eyes slip to his lips. 

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand,” he replies and it’s the first time his wings move behind him. “Just trust that we are connected in ways you cannot even begin to imagine.”

“Well?” You clear your throat and cross your arms in front of your chest, relieved your body is able to move again, though the pose feels rather awkward. “Why are you here?”

He seems shocked for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected you to play along so fast. And, to be honest, neither did you... at least a little. 

“I need to...” His mouth falls shut again and he turns his head down to the side, shoulders heaving. “I guess I need a place to stay.”

“With me?” That’s insane. You know it is. But why does it not surprise you? 

He nods, you shake your head. “I cant just accommodate a...” You gesture to him and he clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Angel.”

“Right, of course.” You chuckle as you scan his body again. Only now do you see the torn clothes and bloody feet. Drenched through and through. 

You sigh. “I don’t even know your name...” 

His eyes are sparkling, the smallest of twitches making him look a little softer, tangible even. You’re not afraid of him. And it messes with your head. You should be scared, right? But all there is in your body is the steady tingle pinging from your heart back to your stomach. 

“It’s James.” His smile is handsome when he reaches out his hands, offering you a better look to his toned arms.

Whywhywhy? “Alright.” 

❁ ❁ ❁

James looks out of place in your rather small living room. His size dwarves every piece of furniture carefully picked out to make your house a home. He makes it look like a doll house just by standing in it. 

But he doesn’t seem to care. James ducks when he passes through the door and you watch his feathers ruffle as they press themselves to his back in order to fit through. 

You’re not sure what to do. Never in your life did you think you would end up in a situation like this. There is no protocol for hosting celestial beings. Though a how to angel dinner party guide would come in handy now. Did he even eat?

Something must be wrong with you. You let a total stranger into your house, even though your track record of people skills is not exactly the best. One that is borderline freakishly tall and has wings. Wings that look soft and beautiful. But strong and kind of intimidating as well. But why does he feel so safe?

“You’re staring.” James notes and a handsome grin spreads across his face. 

“I’m not really used to having angels in my house to be honest.” The sarcasm is dripping from your tone in subtle undertones. But James seems to enjoy it. “Why are you here? On earth... I mean.”

He stares at the ceiling and his wings sag a little. “I have a mission, dearest.” He tells and his eyes meet yours. They’re deep blue and stormy - just like the sky. You can see yourself falling lost in them. His presence is all-consuming, making you shiver. It reminds you that the both of you are drenched from the rain. A puddle has formed around your feet and James’s wings guide the water droplets to your hardwood floor in two perfect circles. His hair is curling at the ends, in the nape of his neck and the water is also running down his throat, pooling in the remains of his shirt. 

“What mission?”

“I cannot tell you yet.” 

You nod, even though you don’t understand. But you don’t want to pressure him. “Do you need a shower? Or... clean clothes?” The second you ask you feel stupid. It’s silly right? Why shouldn’t angels shower? 

Then again, the way he looks at you is one of surprise. “Yes, that would be good.” 

“Good. Yes.” With a sigh you flee through the hallway to your room in search for some clothes. 

❁ ❁ ❁

A shower. James is giddy. Human things have always excited him. He has been watching from the heavens for eons, never truly experienced them quite like this. But he’s intrigued. Especially when you offer them to him like he’s not an intruder in your life. 

If things were different, you would never know he even existed. But James is guilty of happiness that he gets to meet you in person. 

Up close, you’re even more perfect. You smell nice, your home feels cozier than anything he’s ever experienced, and your voice sounds just a sliver more comforting when its directed at him. 

He is smiling like a fool, standing in your living room - the one he knows by heart but so much more personal now. And when you return to him with a pile of grey cloth, his heart skips a beat. You bring him the familiar warmth that made him fall in the first place. But having you within an arm’s length makes all of it feel worth it. 

There is not an ounce of regret in him for being here.

Electricity shoots up his arm when you touch his hand. It’s cold and wet - he immediately vows to always keep you warm from now on - makes it his purpose to have you be comfortable for the rest of your life. 

You lead him to the bathroom, grinning sheepishly when you gesture toward your shower. 

“It might be a tight squeeze.” You point at the glass surrounding your bathtub. “But it’s all I can offer.”

“It will do just fine.” He reassures you. 

“I will leave you to it then.” James is confused.

“Are you not staying?”

“Sorry?”

“To help me.”

“Help you... shower?” There is hesitance in your tone, but James truly doesn’t know how to turn the thing on.

“Well, yes.”

“I...” Your eyes are big, staring up at him through surprise and nervousness. “I don’t want to intrude. Give you some privacy to- oh.”

His clothes are already on the floor. He knows this much. Shower is something one does naked. But you seem to be shocked when his whole body is revealed to you. Do you like it? James is sure he looks as close to a human as a person with wings can. So why are you still staring at his stomach?

His eyes catch yours as they move a little lower, your eyebrows raising just that much higher and a smirk places itself on his face. So, you do like what you see. He confirms silently. Not that he particularly knows why. He never noticed people by their bodies - only their soul, because that is the important thing - the one that never changes. 

And yours is the most enchanting of them all. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You watch as James sit’s down on the opposite end of the sofa. He’s declined every offer you have made for him to feel a little more welcome. But he seems content. His smile hasn’t left his lips ever since you led him to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help but notice his body when he revealed it all  to you. It’s like every inch of him is carved by the gods. He looks soft in the right parts, strong enough not to be skinny with his height. And his male parts. Well, they look more than satisfactory. 

You felt like a pervert staring him up and down while he stood there with this kind of proud innocence to him, wondering if he understood how proud he could be of his looks. There is so much you don’t know about him. It’s not like you haven’t talked. 

You have. But he speaks in riddles. 

“You are staring again.” James notes and you immediately snap your head elsewhere. 

“I’m just figuring this situation out, I guess.”

He smiles encouragingly. “You can ask questions. I imagine you’ve been eager to know more.”

You exhale long, taking courage to look him in the eyes. “And you will answer all of them honestly?”

“Honestly, yes.” His teeth find his bottom lip and you squeeze your thighs together.  “I cannot promise to answer them all.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as you think of the first thing you could ask him. Maybe you should get the most obvious one out of the way. Maybe you should ask him more about himself, though you’re not sure how personal he can get if he spent his entire life in heaven. You just assume there is too much to do to pursue actual hobbies and such. 

“Is there a God?”

“Starting with the light questions, I see.” You just look at him with intrigue. Already lining up all the other questions no-one else in this world has the opportunity to have answered. James sighs and then nods. “Yes, God exists.”

“Do you know God?”

He hesitates, his eyes fleeting to the end of the room and then back to you. “Yes.”

“Why did that answer take you so long?”

His jaw tenses and his eyes find the floor as if he was cursing himself for offering this situation. But then again, you haven’t heard him cuss once. Maybe you’re wrong. “It was under rather... unfortunate circumstances.” 

You nod as if you understand. But you can only imagine. “So, he’s like the big boss, only getting involved when things escalate?”

James looks caught, his wings draw in closer. After a moment, he clears his throat and his feathers ruffle with a small shake. “First of all, it’s she/they. And second, ... I guess you could say that, yes.”

“I knew it.” You grin as the pride washes over you at this information. “Why did she never correct us?”

“Let’s just say mankind doesn’t have a great track record of enforcing things that go against their believe... Not that it would be believable if someone told the story of meeting an angel who told them God is a woman.”

“Fair point. That person would have probably been burnt alive.” You nod again, crossing your legs and turning to him on the sofa. James takes a moment to rake his eyes over your body, making you feel tingles all over. You clear your throat. “Speaking of torture... Why do we have war and world hunger?”

“Please do not take this the wrong way. Those are issues that very much concern God or anyone that want’s the best for her people, but she’s busy. She manages everything else that has gone south since.”

“Since what?” You partly enjoy the way James talks to you as if you are an insider, but you only understand half of what he’s saying. 

“Since she and Lucifer had a big fallout.” He shrugs, but it just adds to your confusion.

“I’m not following.”

He rolls his eyes as if it were your fault you don’t know about this supernatural fight. “They had a disagreement. Lucifer’s response to God’s proposal was an ill-conceived frivolity which ended up becoming the patriarchy.” 

To say you’re stunned is a serious understatement. “You’re telling me the devil threw a tamper tantrum and that’s why we have inequality? How did he even do that?”

James shakes his head. “...Yes. The trial is still in progress. But it may be calming to know that we have not figured out exactly how he convinced an entire species of males being the stronger part of it.”

“No, James. It is not calming to know.” You sigh and watch as he clasps his hands in his lap, his cuffs glistening in the lamplight. God, they’re big. You immediately scold yourself for thinking this, feeling weirds as the words of your mother echo in your head ‘Don’t you dare use God’s name in vain’. “What exactly has God done since then?”

The smile returns to his face and you readjust yourself on the sofa. “Oh, you wouldn’t want to know how this world would look if she hadn’t kept busy with sorting it.”

Your nose wrinkles in a frown, as you check the points off in your head. “I really don’t think it can get that much worse. Climate change, mass genocides, what else could there be?” You nod at each one just as James lifts up his fingers and opens his mouth as if he is starting to count. 

But you stop him. “Please don’t.”

“Yes, that is probably for the best.”

It is silent for a moment as you try to process all the information you have just attained. It is a rather weird feeling. Knowing you know what no-one else on earth does and not being able to tell. Knowing there will be no-one believing you. 

You sigh when your head starts spinning from how crazy this day has been. James seems to be rather relaxed considering he barely knows you. His dark hair falls around his face perfectly, the back of it forming a cute curl in the nape of his neck and your fingers itch to touch it.

But you refrain, reminding yourself that he is a stranger - and an angel. Beside the fact that he has not once reached out to you, just randomly touching his hair would probably be the weirdest thing to do right now. 

“Can I ask you something?” He suddenly breaks the silence and you shoot a thank you to the sky for saving yourself from going down the mental rabbit hole of how soft his hair looks. 

“Yes.”

“Why did you take me in?” James’s eyes are boring into yours so innocently. If it weren’t for the giant wings on his back, he would almost look like a normal clueless and incredibly cute guy. And yet he just revealed outerworldly gossip as if you were discussing the latest celebrity TMZ. 

“I-“ you trail off, thinking about it for a while. You aren’t sure how much you can tell him. But James has been genuine from the start. It wold only be fair to do the same. “I felt like you needed me.”

A weird feeling takes over your body suddenly. Like a warm flush rushing through you. James fidgets in your peripheral and nods in understanding. “I did. I do.”

It’s like the reality of it all hits you like brick when a noise sounds from outside and his wings twitch, pushing over a pile of books on the cupboard behind the sofa. This is not normal, something tells you, and yet your stomach flutters in a way that feels a lot like butterflies. Everything about James is fascinating to you. You constantly fight the urge to reach out and brush your fingertips over every part of him. And for some reason, your mind tries to tell you that he would let you. 

“Why are you really here, James?” You voice is only a whisper when the rattling outside subsides. It’s probably a raccoon or something. But James looks a little nervous all of a sudden. 

“I’m afraid that is one thing I cannot tell you, love.”

You sigh. “I guess... I just want to help. Having you stay here doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There has got to be something you need to do.”

“That is very kind of you. I admire your bravery and openness.” His lips spread into a smile, his hand lifting from his lap as if he is about to place it on yours, but his fingers only strech and land back on the sofa between you. “But to be truthful, even if I knew what I had to do, I am not sure wether I would do it or not”

So he is a little deviant. You smile at the small observation. Maybe it’s the reason he is here in the first place. But you feel like you have asked James enough for tonight. Just on cue, a yawn escapes your lips. 

“You should rest. It has been a long day.” 

You nod, rubbing your eyes and rising from the soft cushions. “I have a spare bedroom. You can sleep there.”

“That is fine. I do not sleep.” James shakes his head as he rises with you out of curtesy. With his hands clasped in front of him he looks like a goth painting. 

“What? Never?”

“I am not human, dearest. My body attains energy in different ways.” You shudder again, blaming it on your sleepiness as you rub your arms when another yawn escapes you. 

“Maybe you can tell me about it tomorrow. I am really tired.”

“I will be watching over you.” Your name passes his lips like a song, sending another shiver through you. What the hell is the matter with you. You huff as you catch yourself again. It really never occurred to you how often you referenced to the supernatural... “Take all the rest you can get.”

“Good night, James.” You nod and wave awkwardly.

“Good night.”

You know James’s eyes are only you until you disappear into the hallway. But you cant help but feel safely watched over with him around. 

❁ ❁ ❁

They will find him, and they will send him further from you than he ever was.

❁ ❁ ❁

James hates the days you have to leave for work. He watches you with a sense of longing and resignation, knowing that he must find a way to navigate this separation once again. Though it is necessary he find a way to dodge the inevitable.

It’s the vexing thing about the celestial kingdom. They always leave one to find the laws on their journey. There is no book he could read on earth that could help him here. But he has seen the repercussions of disobedience, felt the weight of his transgressions bearing down on him like a heavy chain.

And yet, as he watches you prepare to leave for work, a sense of desperation gnaws at him from within. He wants to reach out, to beg you to stay, to keep you safe from whatever dangers may lurk beyond the safety of your home.

But he knows he can't. He's bound by duty, by the laws of God that dictate his every move. And so, with a heavy heart, he watches silently as you gather your things and head out the door, leaving him alone once more.

As the door closes behind you, James is left with nothing but the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance. He knows he should use this time wisely, to prepare for whatever trials may lie ahead, but his thoughts are consumed by you, by the overwhelming need to protect you at all costs.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s and angel in your home. And he’s so freaking attractive, it’s unfair. 

It has been a week since you found James. And despite the incredibly irrational decisions of yours to invite him into your home, nothing bad has happened to you. Sure, the first night you might have dreamt about him. He’s everything your fantasy books described an more. And you couldn’t help but let that tiny romantic sliver of you hope for the more. 

But James is more pious than any catholic boarding school kid you’ve ever met. 

He seems to enjoy a good joke and he’s quite confident. But he never once touched you. And while that should not be one of your first concerns, considering he’s a stranger and an angel, something inside you tells you he’s holding back. 

He never even flinches when you reach out to him. And the longing stares he sends your way make you shiver with anticipation. Yet there is no attempt to ever pull you in - even though you are so sure you were sending signals. 

Maybe there are no signals in heaven. What are you even saying? Of course there are no signals in heaven. You don’t even believe dating exists up there. 

“Yo, whaddup with ya today? I’ve been calling your name for a solid minute.”

“Sorry. Feeling a little off today,” you mumble to Nick and retrieve the food waiting in the serving hatch. 

“You can’t go home. I don’t wanna serve alone today.”

“Scott, there’s literally no-one here.” You gesture toward the few people sitting in their booths and sigh. “Besides, I never said I was going home.” 

“Don’t get mad. You barely texted me back this week. What’s so awesome about your home when I’m not there with you?” You feel the heat rising to your head at Scott’s comment. “You’d think she’d call me if she ever needed to hide something.” He mumbles to Nick who just laughs and flips a pancake. 

You turn to him with your fists by your side. “The weather is weird and cold, can’t I need a little down time?”

“Not from me!” Scott looks baffled. He’s your friend, and yes, you had other things to worry about than be on your phone this week. But you also knew he wouldn’t understand.

“You’re being a real pain in my ass today, Scotty.”

“Good, so everything’s back to normal then.”

You throw a towel in his face. “Shut up.”

“Cut it out, you two, there’s customers.”

Scott resumes to the back, effectively dodging his work and leaving you to serve the new customer. But your breath hitches in your throat when you look up from the counter.

James is standing in the door, already drawing looks of attention from a few people. He’s smiling back at them, even waving at a child before his eyes meet yours and your heart sets off again. It seems to always do that when he’s close. 

You rush toward him, wrapping your fingers around his cuffed wrist and he audibly exhales. 

“You can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“Because-“ you lean in closer and James bows down to get his face to your level. “You’re and angel.” You mutter under your breath and the sexy smile returns to his perfect lips. 

“And how would they know that?” His eyebrow raises. 

“You-“ you lean back, examining his shoulders - only then noticing that his wings are not there anymore. “How?”

“I only show myself to truly important people.” He winks and you stumble back a little, his sudden boldness making your legs feel like jello. 

“What are you doing here?” 

James looks around the diner as though he has not planned this far. His eyes swerve to the counter and then back to you. “I want to watch you work. I enjoy spending time with you.”

“But you can’t be here without ordering.”

“Then I will oder.”

“You don’t eat, James. Do you even have money?”

That seems to surprise him. “No.” You shake your head and look at the tiled floor. James’s wrist is still wrapped in your hand but there is no attempt to hold you. So you drop it. Why did he even come here when he won’t touch you?

“Please, beautiful. Let me stay.” His eyes are genuine, his lips purse in a plea. All you can think about is how weirdly lucky you are that this Adonis of a being chose you for his quest. 

You bite your lip and watch him shudder. “Alright. Just sit by the counter and try to be inconspicuous.”

His smile spreads wide. “I’ll be as invisible as the air you breathe.”

You exhale and get back to work but unfortunately, his promise doesn’t last long. Before you know it, Peggy has chosen the seat right beside James. She’s leaning over to him at the counter and Howard just sits beside them with his newspaper in hand - as always. James seems just as invested in the conversation as Peggy and as you steal glances over to the pair of them, insistently hoping he won’t spill about his identity, you catch James’s eyes lingering on you. 

“You are a fine young man, James.” Peggy's hand lands on his, tapping it in a grandmotherly manor, though her eyes are glinting with something akin to longing. She whispers something into his ear you cant make out and James’s eyes shoot to yours, his face tinting rouge from one ear to the other. 

“And you are a remarkable lady, Peggy,” he clears his throat, his mind seemingly wandering elsewhere. “You remind me of a girl a friend of mine was in love with once.”

“Then he must have been the happiest man to ever live.”

Peggy’s hands tremble when she reaches for her cup of tea, her red lipstick taint the white porcelain as James watches her movements with a soft stare. He looks so protective of her, it makes your insides tingle. “He truly is, though he seems like he has forgotten about it lately. Is this your husband?” He gestures to Howard, who just slams the newspaper down in front of him, blank eyes staring at James while Peggy laughs and waves her hand dismissively. 

“This rascal?” She presses her hand to her chest as she tries to calm down. “No, dear. My husband died a long tome ago.” She smiles warmly, floating in melancholy when she continues, “I never loved another man since. He was a heaven sent. Strong, kind, always worked towards the greater good... and his looks were to die for, too.” She winks and James chuckles. 

“Oh I wish a love like that to everyone. Promise me something, James.” 

“Anything.”

“If your find it, never let it go.” Her hand clasps around his biceps, her tone a motherly sternness laced with affection. 

James eyes you again and it feels as if the air is shifting with tension. “My word is in God’s name, Peggy.”

❁ ❁ ❁

James feels the repercussions of his being on earth stronger every day. In heaven, he was miserable because he had to watch you live your life without him. On earth, he’s in agony because he knows, if he ever were to touch you, he would cease to exist.

It’s slanted. He gave up everything coming here and despite the fact that his wings stopped working the second he fell from the sky, he categorizes the uncertainty eating away at him as even worse. Hanging in limbo is more troubling than actually going to hell, he is sure of it. 

He watches you move about your house with the same longing look torturing his features since he realized how much he needed you. It’s laughable how dependent on you he has become. While you go about your life with the minor change of having a roommate, James despises the unforgeable distance heaven has created between you. 

You are friendly with him - you are friendly with everyone. James would even go as far as to say that you two are friends by now. But he wants so much more. So much more he cant tell you because even if you did know about his feelings, there is nothing either of you could do about it. 

James sighs standing from the sofa, ducking his head when he passes through the doorway to you. You never questions when he just follows you around. The soul bond probably keeping the curiosity at bay if it feels anything like his experience. It feels good for no explicit reason. 

You sort some bowls in your cabinet as he stands behind you, offering to place the ones higher up so you don’t have to struggle too much. “What’s heaven like, James?” You ask innocently through your movements. “Are there pearly gates and fluffy clouds?”

James loves when you say his name. It makes him feel closer to you than ever before. In a way, he equates it with your touch. Just as his saying your name is his way of reaching out to you. 

“More like endless paperwork and celestial coffee breaks.” Coffee breaks. He learned about those a while ago and he loves the concept. “But hey, the views are to die for.” He gets lost in your eyes, remembering how much more distant they felt when he was watching from above and he is thankful to be this close to you now.

You smile smugly, and thats when the heart race sets in again. He’s sure you feel it too. Because your eyes avert and your hand places itself atop your chest. 

You think something is wrong with you, he just knows it. It’s like the time you watched hours on hours of Gray’s Anatomy and then proceeded to research yourself into a frenzy about the sicknesses you might suffer. But James made sure then that there was not even a paper cut compromising you and he will do the same now, too.

He is desperate to tell you what it is you feel, that there is not much you can do and that he feels it ten times worse because he hates to see you suffer. But he needs to be careful about how much he reveals to you. 

“Oh my god, I’m getting paranoid,” you mutter to yourself and James smirks at your small slip up. He has noticed how you try to minimize your references in curses. It’s cute, really, because he knows how much you used to do it. It’s a little bit amusing, the small deviant trait of yours making him feel like he has found something in common with you and he’s almost proud of it.

You collect yourself, quickly, breathing in deeply and then turning around to him. “I have to run some errands today.” 

“Great, where are we going?” James asks with eagerness. Car rides excite him. He has always found them fascinating, but actually being in one is a whole new experience. 

You bite your lip and for once, James does not feel the familiar tingle in his stomach when you do so. There is sadness sitting in your eyes when you answer him. “Actually...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lip just for your teeth to dig into it again and an unfamiliar tightness travels through James’s body. “It is something I need to do by myself today. I hope that is okay.”

The angel nods vigorously, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. “Yes of course. I will leave you to it alone.” He steadies himself on the door frame and then heads to the living room where he grabs a book and settles on your window sill to look occupied. 

“It is nothing personal, James.” Your head dips from the doorway and he looks up. “It's just... it would be weird for you to be there.”

“I understand.” The way he adds your name to his answer makes him sick. But his body is feeling weird, not showing him the familiar signs of jealousy or anger he knows. It feels... warm and uncomfortable. 

“I will be back soon.” Your voice travels through the hallway and your footsteps along with it. James stares at the empty doorway for a while, his eyes shooting down to the book when you suddenly reappear. “Do you want anything from the store?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.”

And then the door falls shut. But before James can get consumed by his loneliness, he puts the books down - something about an ice breaker - and heads outside to follow you. 

❁ ❁ ❁

But earth can be a lonely place. At least hell will welcome you with warmth.

❁ ❁ ❁

You didn’t lie. You were at the store. But now that you’re treading on the small path towards the grey cemetery walls, James feels the fear spread through his body like a slow and painful death. 

He’s hiding behind the trees closing around the park, watching you as you halt before a simple headstone. He can feel your mourning deep within his heart, tugging, yanking, pulling on the tiny strings that sting so effectively. His temple leans against the rough bark as his eyes trace your slow movements. You place a small bouquet of flowers on the soil before the engraved letters, resting your forehead on the gold stone. 

He can’t see it completely, but he knows you’re crying. You always do. Everything within him screams to reach out to you, to hold you and sway you until the world feels less taunting, but he knows how difficult it could make things. 

So, instead, he remains hidden, a silent sentinel in the shadows bearing witness to your sorrow from afar. He feels the weight of your tears as if they were his own, each drop a dagger to his soul and a reminder of the distance that separates him from you. 

And yet, even in the midst of your pain, there is a flicker of something else - resilience, determination, a quiet strength that refuses to be extinguished. It’s a testament to your spirit, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume you both. 

As you linger before the headstone, lost in your memories and your grief, James feels a surge of admiration swell within him. Despite the pain you carry, you continue to preserve. 

“It’s really a shame you never have the balls to comfort her.” A voice whispers in his ear and James shoots around to be met with a redhead whose eyes stare daringly up at him. “Then again... I guess it would be kind of ironic, don’t you think?” 

“What are you doing here, Wanda?” All angels are made weary of Lucifer’s spawn. They are vicious and manipulating, carrying the pits of hell to places that least expect them and watch it all go up in flames as they stand laughing on the sidelines. 

James knows the demon standing before him. More than once have their paths crossed throughout time, but he is surprised to see her every time anew. He refuses to show any sign of weakness in her presence, knowing that to do so would only invite further manipulation.

Wanda chuckles darkly, her laughter echoing through the trees. “Oh, nothing much,” she muses with a wicked grin, pacing around James to take a closer look at him. “Just though I’d remind you of what you’re missing out on by playing the good little guardian angel. But who knows... maybe one of these days, you’ll finally grow a spine and take what you want.”

James clenches his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure in the face of Wanda’s relentless provocation. He knows better than to let her under his skin, but the demon’s words cut deep, striking at the heart of his insecurities. He feels the surge of frustration rising within him as his fists clench by his sides, the weight of his silver cuffs pressing against his wrists like chains. “I can’t,” he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I can’t”

Wanda’s gaze narrows as her arms cross in front of her chest. “Can’t or won’t?” She counters, her voice tingling with an unspoken dare. 

James hesitates, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I... I don't know," he admits finally. "But it doesn't matter. My duty lies with heaven, with protecting her. I can’t do that when I’m lost in the in-between.”

Wanda's eyes glitter with amusement as she takes a step closer, closing the distance between them with an unnerving grace. "And what if heaven isn't where you belong?" she whispers in a seductive purr as her fingers flick against his cuffs. The sound travels through the trees, making you turn and look around you. "What if your heart longs for something more, something... forbidden?"

A shiver runs down his spine, a sudden realization dawning within James. For so long, he has clung to the safety of his celestial duties, fearing the consequences of straying from the path laid out before him. But now, as he stands face to face with the embodiment of temptation itself again, he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, heaven is not the place where he can truly flourish. 

“I don’t trust you, Wanda.” He admits genuinely, though the possibility of her words holding truth gnaws on his very soul.

“You shouldn’t.” She smirks devilishly, eyes flashing in a short glimmer of red and evil. “There will be consequences to disobeying celestial rules. But you will never find out if a life free of them would be more fulfilling to you if you don’t try.” She winks, setting uncertainty free within him. “Find me when you have made the right choice.”

As he watches Wanda disappear into the shadows, leaving him alone with his thoughts, James knows that he is standing at a crossroads—one that would determine the course of his destiny for eternity. And though the path ahead is uncertain and fraught with peril, he can't help but feel a glimmer of hope stir within him, a whisper of possibility that promises a future filled with love, and happiness, and the chance to finally be as close to you as he has always wished for.

❁ ❁ ❁

The night has broken over your small town by now. James has made it back with a conflicted heart before you came home from your errands. He knows you notice his silence as he normally enjoys to talk a lot to you. But you don’t say anything. 

He is just sitting quietly in the kitchen as he watches you make a cup of tea, wondering what it tastes like right before frowning at how scared he is to try a cup of hot water just because he doesn’t know what it would do to him. 

Wanda’s words come back to the forefront of his mind and the unease she instilled within his heart right alongside it. He has been longing to reach out to you for so long, has wanted to touch and comfort you in so many ways his mind began to spin. Especially after days like this, when you went to visit your brother’s grave. You would be crying yourself to sleep tonight. And you would get up tomorrow, wipe the sorrow from your eyes and continue to live your life as if nothing happened. Because you are strong and resilient. 

And James, even though he is finally present, is not able to offer you the solace you so desperately deserve. 

At least he thought so.

His eyes wander to the silver cuffs around his arms, feeling the weight and letting the subtle clink of them seep into his skull. He has never questioned why or how the rules of heaven applied to him. He never even thought about the consequences of breaking them until he felt the need to protect you. He never really cared until you became the most important thing in his life. 

Now, seeing the pain in your gaze, and feeling the guilt for being here, not soothing you gnaws on him, sending him back to a state in which he would kill to see you smile again. Free of fear and sorrow. 

You bite your lip when you settle on the chair across from his. Your eyes look dull, but James can’t help but think there is a question posed within them. Something desperate and restricted. Oh, how he would love to know what you’re trying to say. He is just too inexperienced with human interaction that he can get a read on everything just yet. 

James feels his heart picking up, knowing it beats in the same rhythm as yours, but he doesn’t dare speak, knowing his voice will betray him. Your tea cup is empty, your eyes tired, and he knows that this evening with you will end within seconds. 

“Good night, James.” You finally say, following the small ritual you have established with him as you wave at him weakly. 

Normally, he says it back. Normally, he guides you to the bedroom and closes your door promising to watch over you in silence. Normally, he doesn’t have a demon’s words ringing in his ears. 

But today, something feels different. As you gather your things and head towards your bedroom, a sudden surge of determination courses through him. He can't bear the thought of being separated from you, even for a moment longer.

With a sense of reckless abandon, and the words of Wanda hanging in his mind James makes a daring decision. Ignoring the warnings echoing in his every being, he reaches out to you, his touch barely grazing your shoulder as you turn to leave.

In that fleeting moment of contact, something shifts. A spark ignites between you, a connection so powerful and undeniable that it defies explanation. Time seems to slow as you both freeze, caught in the throes of a bond that transcends the boundaries of heaven and earth.

For a heartbeat, everything hangs in the balance, the air crackling with electricity. And then ...nothing happens. 

There is no rush of wind and light that makes him disappear, leaving behind only the echo of his presence lingering in the empty space between. There is nothing else welcoming him in wrath or absolute nothingness or whatever is supposed to happen if a celestial ever dared to touch a mortal.

He opens his eyes that he had shut tight without noticing. And you’re still here. In front of him, staring at his hand that is softly wrapped around your wrist. His mind is struggling to make sense of what just happened - or rather what didn’t. It was all a hoax. 

James feels rage bubble within him. And as you stand there, alone in the quiet stillness of the room, touching. He counts yet another reason why heaven was never where he belonged.

A single tear rolls down his cheek when he pulls you into his body and wraps his arm around you tightly. His heart beats violently, pumping the anger of knowing how much time he wasted not being close to you through his body. His wings follow close behind, sealing you into his warmth and creating a space just for you and him. It’s as if you are made for him. Your body tugs perfectly beneath his feathery white wings and he knows he’ll hold you like this for eternity. 

❁ ❁ ❁

He’s touching you. 

James is touching you. No, actually, he’s consuming you with his whole being, pulling you into the best hug you have ever received. His wings wrap around you protectively, engulfing you into his scent entirely. It’s earthy, and clean, and... heavenly. 

You chuckle slightly as your cheek presses to his chest, your head barely reaching his collar bone, but it just makes you feel enclosed by his presence from all around. You heart beats just as rapidly as his and you exhale in content as you realize that you’re not the only one feeling this connection. 

You don’t know what changed. Maybe you are not as good as hiding your sadness as you think you are. Or maybe there is a whole other reason behind this angel guarding you into the most loving hug you have ever experienced. But fact is, you needed it today more than ever. 

And James knew ...because he strangely knows so much about you. He feels familiar without trying and it is a weirdly comforting thing to experience. Especially after all you have been through. 

Hesitantly, and almost sorrowfully, you pull away from his warm chest. His wings loosen around you, his arms leaving just enough space for you to lean back and stare into those azure blue eyes of his. He’s beautiful up close. Long lashes frame his loving stare as his mouth tugs into a smile, taking yours right with it. 

“You touched me.” You say in awe as James’s eyebrows slightly raise. “You thought I didn’t notice, but I did.” 

There is a steak silence as his gaze travels over your face then roams his arms that are still holding you tightly close to him. “Should I not be touching you?” He asks carefully.

You can feel his hands retreating but you pull him right in before they’re gone. “I was just wondering when you would.” You snuggle back into his shirt and his hands cradle your head to him. “Is it embarrassing to say I’ve wanted you to do it for a while now?”

“Not embarrassing at all.” His chest rumbles with a chuckle. “I’ve wanted to do it even before then. I just didn’t know if I could.” The last part is a mere whisper that dissipates in your hair when his mouth presses to it in a feather light brush. 

A rush of warmth floods through you, filling every corner of your being with a sense of belonging you've never known before. Time seems to stand still, the world falling away until there is nothing left but the two of you, entwined in each other's arms.

"You've wanted to touch me?" you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them, a confession born of the unspoken longing that has lingered between you for far too long.

James's gaze softens, his fingers trailing gently along the curve of your cheek as he meets your eyes with a look of quiet intensity. "More than you could ever know," he replies. "But I feared the consequences.”

“What consequences?” James shakes his head as his thumb still lingers on your skin. 

“I don’t know.” You reach up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you search his eyes again. It was stupid of you to assume he didn’t touch you because he didn’t like you. He was probably scared of what would happen if angels ever dared. The look in his deep blues tells you how worried he was. How long he withheld for the sake of dodging the unknown. 

“It’s not bad, is it?” You hand travels across his chest, feeling the muscles tense in its wake. “Touching.” 

James's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding against his chest as he gazes down at you with a mixture of awe and reverence. And once again, you would love to know what is happening inside his brain. 

With a trembling hand, James cups your face in his palm, his touch gentle yet possessive as he leans in to press his forehead to yours. You cant help but feel that there is something keeping him from you, still. 

“Let me stay with you tonight, my beloved.” His fingers tighten around your face ever so slightly. “Let me hold you and keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?” You ask in a trance as your fingers bury in his hair and you play with the thought of pressing your lips to his. But he has taken so long to hug you. You don’t want him to be overwhelmed. 

“Anything.” He whispers back and closes his eyes. A whole new warmth consumes you when his words seep in, blanketing you in cherish and admiration. If this is what being appreciated feels like, you will fight to keep the feeling forever. 

“Okay.”

❁ ❁ ❁

Oh how much the celestials have lied. Flying is nothing compared to this. 

❁ ❁ ❁

As you bustle about the diner, taking orders and refilling coffee mugs with practiced ease, Peggy sits at her usual spot at the counter, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she watches you work.

"Something on your mind, Peggy?" you ask with a smile, setting down a plate of pancakes in front of a hungry customer.

Peggy leans in closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "I couldn't help but notice that smile of yours, dear," she says with a knowing wink. "It's positively radiant today. Dare I say, it's almost as if you've got a secret?"

You chuckle, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks at her observation. “Hmm, I don’t know,” you reply coyly, unable to suppress the grin that tugs at the corners of your lips as you tab your finger against them. “What makes you think I’d share it with you?”

“Well, I am a loyal customer for one...” She pauses as she thinks of another point. “And I am old enough to think the secret dies with me." Peggy presses, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Please, you know the entire town.” You laugh and Peggy waves her hand dismissively, though there is a proud smirk on her red lips. 

Before she can respond, a voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and tinged with bitterness. "What's all this about smiles and secrets?”

You turn to see Old Lee leaning against the counter with a grim expression. His worn-down straw hat flops over his eyes, making him look even more grumpy than usual.

"It's nothing, Stan," you reply, trying to defuse the tension with a forced smile. "Just some friendly banter."

Old Lee’s eyes narrow slightly. "Friendly banter, huh? You're squawking like a bunch of chickens in a henhouse."

Peggy rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by Stan's attitude. "Oh, hush up, Stan," she scolds, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "Can't you see we're having a moment here? This is girl talk. Go and drink your tea like the grumpy old man you are.”

Old Lee shakes his head in response but wisely chooses to turn back to his drink. “We all know how the last time she came in here with a smile that big turned out.” Old Lee grumbles searching your eyes once more. “The frogs're telling me we’ll have another rain comin’ soon. You better be careful, sweetheart.”

You share a conspiratorial look with Peggy, either of you not sure wether to believe him or not. Stan is not one for sappy love stories, but he certainly hits the nail on the head with his predictions every time. His bold hint towards the last big death this town suffered glides off his tongue like a Sunday prayer and it ripples down your spine in ice-cold peaks. 

“That is in the past. Right now, I really am hoping we are talking about the charming gentleman I talked to the other week. He certainly is a sight for sore eyes.” Peggy’s eyes sparkle as Old Lee huffs into his cup.

She winks back at you and the smile returns to your lips, along with the giddy feeling you get when James is called into your mind. But before you can respond, the diner door swings open, signaling the arrival of another customer and putting an end to your conversation—for now, at least.

❁ ❁ ❁

A noise calls from the back of your house right before the sun starts its journey in the sky. You don’t wake as James tries to stir carefully with his arms still holding you tightly. He was not sleeping - he doesn’t need sleep, but he still feels groggy from the warm and comforting night being ripped away with the sound. 

It piques another time and now, James is sure, someone is trying to get inside. Within minutes he is out of bed, checking the window and then closing the door to your bedroom on his way to the back. 

He is ready to protect you at all costs, eager to show you how much you mean to him, but when he sees a touch of white beyond the window and hears the familiar rustling of feathers that accompany it, it only takes him a second to realize who has come to intrude your peace. 

Two men - angels - just as tall has James litter the kitchen once he opens the door and pulls them inside with both hands. Samuel, the one standing a little to the side, brushes his clothes off once he comes to a stand again, watching James with amusement and curiosity. “I see you haven’t changed much, James. A simple ‘hello’ would have been just fine.” He crosses his arms before his chest, his wings shaking the dowry rain from their feathers and right onto your kitchen floor. 

“Why are you here?” His eyes search those of Steven - a friend of his but also an angel ranking higher than James ever will.

“You know why we’re here.” He steps closer once he has composed himself again. “You are testing the heavens.” 

James huffs, feeling the anger rise inside him. If anything, heaven was testing him. So he goes on to ignore the blonde angel before him, willing his heart to calm at all the frustration accumulating at once. “Did you know it was a lie?” James starts instead. His voice is strained when he thinks of all the times he refrained from touching you just to keep you safe. “Just a way to keep us from initiating contact?” 

Steven doesn’t say anything and Samuel’s stare meets that of James again. Steven shows little remorse, the pride on display now more than usual. The supposed betrayal James has caused is nothing to the sting boring into his soul by the very man standing in font of him. Steven is cold, distant - when he should be a friend.

“I should have known.” James shakes his head. “Your duties have always placed higher than your friendships.”

“That is because duties are the most valuable virtue God can give.” Steven finally says and his jaw ticks angrily. 

James could never imagine being more loyal to a system placing as many restrains as heaven does. Not when he knows how good the real world can feel. How precious it is to smell flowers and hold the one you love in your arms well into the night. 

“You came here with a mission, James. And since your fall, you have done nothing but frolic throughout this place with your very own human.” Samuel is eerily still behind the broad blonde spitting one accusation after the other. But James decides not to comment on it just yet. 

“It is far more than that,” he rasps feeling the protectiveness flood his body. 

“We know. That is why you are here in the first place.” 

“What am I supposed to do, Steven?” James tries to keep his voice low, but his frustration is too great. Steven should be the one to understand better than anyone else. But he seems to have locked that part of him far away right now. “How can I amend a sin that is irreversible?!”

“Every sin can be amen-“ Steve’s eyebrows raise and Samuel’s eyes flickers from James and focuse behind him. That is when his heart beat picks up again. And as much as he loves you, he wishes with all his being that you are not standing behind him right now.

“Please, no.” He mutters and turns just to have you approach from the hallway with tired eyes. 

“What is happening? Who are you?” Your voice sounds sleepy, a hand rubbing over your face before you find yourself by James’s side.

“Angels.” He bites his lips, contemplating for a moment but deciding that you deserve to hear what is happening in your own home. A home he hopes to be part of forever. Besides, with Steven here, there is no ending this conversation without confusing you more. “They want me to abandon you.” The bitterness is evident in his tone. But he regrets it as soon as he catches the stutter in your heart.

“What?” It’s all you say, but the way you do breaks his collected facade. 

“James-“

“What do I have to loose, Steven?” his arms open wide. "They already cast me out. They took my freedom, they took it all.” His wings barely shake, just emphasizing his statement. 

Steve steps closer, causing you to slightly shove yourself behind James, his arm reaching around you, just not touching yet. ”But there is still a chance to redeem yourself.”

“What if I don’t want it?” James bites back. 

“Don’t act rash, James. Think about this.“

“I have.” Long and hard. Every night he holds you, he has enough time to do so. And he has come to the conclusion that nothing compares to having you this close to him... and only him.

“You know of the punishment placed for sinners who do not attempt to right their wrongs.” Steven is seething beneath the surface, James can tell. But he tries to stay professional. He can try all he wants. James has already made a decision. 

“What is he talking about?” Your voice takes him back to your presence. Your hands sneak around his forearm and hand, to which his body responds like a reflex. His fingers squeeze yours, his body seeks the heat of yours. Samuel looks at the interaction curiously, Steven settles for a disapproving taunt.

“I lose my wings. I lose heaven.” James explains to you, watching as your eyes open wider in shock. 

“What?” There is so much more behind your astound answer. What does this mean for us?

“James is banished from the heavens temporarily already.” Steven’s voice drips with authority, making you stiffen beside him. James hates it. And he doesn’t hate much. 

“Why?” You’re too soft for this, too fragile to take another betrayal so soon. He has just gotten started and he already feels you drifting away. Your eyes are glassy when you turn to Steven. “What could have possibly been so bad that you ended up here?” 

“You didn’t tell her?” Sam breaks his silence. The surprise is written all over his face just to be replaced by confusion when James utters his name in warning. 

“Tell me.” It seems as though his eyes switch between everyone in the room, trying to warn them all of what will happen if they take his opportunity of telling you himself.

“James is not just any angel.”

“Steve, stop it.” 

“He is your guardian angel.”

It all happens too fast. A look to Samuel tells him there is no ending this. Steven won’t stop until he has tried his all to have you turn from James. 

“And he committed the worst sin of them all.” You look shocked and expectant. The grip on James’s hands grows tighter with every syllable leaving Steven’s mouth. And James is silently cursing the angel in front of him “He killed a man... for you.” 

You stumble back and James catches you only to earn a warning glare from Steven and Samuel. 

“Brock,” you whisper and it sounds like the single word has taken the entire air out of your system.

Lighting brightens your house over the stifled morning gleam and thunder sounds dangerously in the distance. You’re flinching, though searching James’s eyes as he steadies you back on your feet. 

“You cant do this forever, James.”

“And what if I try?” He turns fully. “What if I would rather get myself killed than come back to heaven?”

“He wouldn’t” Steve is heaving, but Sam steps forward, Laying a hand on the blonde’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe his rage. “The soul bond affects her just as it does him.”

“What does that mean?” It’s barely a screech when you interrupt them again. Turning to James and tugging at his shirt, you convey the frustration of being kept in the dark through your features. “What does it mean, James?”

He sighs, shaking his head and then closing his eyes - hoping to escape this conversation. But it is happening. “It means, if I die... you will die, too. A soul need replace that of a guardian one.”

At this point, James questions his sanity. How could he have not realized the twisted ways of the celestial realm sooner? In an attempt to soothe both his aching head and your tired soul, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but your hands swat his arms away.

James recoils as if struck, the sting of rejection shattering his heart into thousands of pieces

“You might think it wise to revisit what we offered you, James.”

The words hang in the air like a dark omen when Steven and Samuel disappear. With a heavy heart, James turns away from you, unable to bear the weight of your disappointment any longer.

As you walk away, James is torn between the desire to comfort you and the fear of causing you further pain. But when he reaches out to touch you, once more, your tears are a silent testament to the rift that now lies between you. 

"I... I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice choked with emotion. It’s a desperate attempt to fix this, even if he does not know how.

“Go, James. Please. I need time to understand all this-”

“I can help you.”

“-alone. I want to be alone.” You swallow hard. “Leave, please.” Your tears finally spill and James despises that he is at fault of them.

“Go.”

Feeling more abandoned than ever, James leaves you to your grief, the weight of his actions weighing heavily on his soul. In that moment, he realizes that the price of his newfound freedom may be greater than he ever imagined, leaving him trapped in a prison of his own making, forever haunted by the memory of the one he could never save.

He knows there are not many ways to fix this. But he is determined to find the one that will.

❁ ❁ ❁

He doesn’t remember earth to be quite this cold. 

Find me when you have made the right choice. The words keep ringing in his head. 

A little warmth would feel nice now.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were angry when you told James to leave. Angry, and hurt, and confused, and shocked, and fucking tired of it all. 

But now that he is gone, an unfamiliar emptiness has taken its place where your tingles used to be. Everything makes so much sense now. The weirdly familiar feeling. The sense of security around him - a total stranger at the time, who obviously possessed more strength than you could ever imagine. The instant pull from his heart to yours. 

The quiet of your house seems to close in on you. The walls feel tighter, the rooms emptier. Every corner holds a memory of James, a reminder of the presence that had once filled your life with warmth and mystery. His laugh echoing in the hallway, his silhouette framed in the morning light through the kitchen window, the way he seemed to know when you needed comfort before you even realized it yourself.

You sit at the table, staring at your untouched cup of coffee, replaying moments in your mind. The time he effortlessly carried your groceries when you insisted you could manage alone. The nights he stayed up with you, talking about everything and nothing, his voice soothing and familiar. The way he looked at you, as if you were the center of his universe.

The days seem endless without him. Simple tasks feel monumental in the absence of his reassuring presence. You find yourself hesitating before making decisions, second-guessing your choices, yearning for the silent support he always provided. The realization hits you: you had built your life around him, around the safety and stability he brought, even without knowing the full truth of who he was.

You cannot deny that a big part of you misses him despite all the lies he told you. Well, not lies entirely. You know he has always been truthful to you ...he just never told the whole truth until he was forced to.

And even though the other two angels who visited made him reveal his secrets to you, you feel like there is so much more to discover still. 

Your hand settles over your heart, trying to pull the constant racing around James back into existence. But it beats in profound silence, acting as though nothing has happened, when - in fact - everything has changed. James came into your life and unapologetically took your heart away. You don’t want it back. You want him back. Heart or not, your souls are connected. And now that he is gone, you know what you have truly been missing all this time. 

With a sigh, you rise form your chair and grab your keys, determined to find a way to help James out of the trouble he has caused because of you. A shiver runs down your spine at the memories of it all. James’s sin had good intentions, you know this much. But two people died at the time of it - though only one deserves your mourning. 

You pull your door closed and make your way to town hall. The entire left wing of the building is dedicated to the library and you are destined to find out more about the man who crashed into your life and took your heart away... and then disappeared. 

The library is quiet, the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper the only sounds that break the stillness. You approach the counter, where a librarian is meticulously organizing a stack of book. She looks up as you approach, her kind eyes lighting up with curiosity. 

“Hello, dear,” she says warmly. How can I help you today?”

You hesitate for a moment but then you decide to just start at the beginning. “I’m looking for some texts about angels,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “More specifically fallen angels... and the consequences of disobeying.”

The librarian raises an eyebrow and a look close to amusement and happiness reaches over her face. “That’s a rather specific topic,” she muses and your brow begins to sweat. Maybe this was a stupid idea. The woman is still eyeing you with a smolder, but then, as if you pushed a button, she shrugges and begins to type away on her computer. “Good thing it’s my job to get you exactly what you need.”

She nods slowly after a little while. “We do have some old texts and legends about angels. Let me show you.” With that, she lifts her body out of the office chair behind the desk and leads you to the far end of the library. It’s a quiet corner where the oldest books are kept. She pulls an ancient-looking leather-bound volume from a high shelf. For the place it has been kept, it is surprisingly dust-free. 

With a smile, she hands it to you and then wishes you ‘happy hunting’.

The book is heavy in your hands. The front is embossed in golden letters. Your fingers trace over it, feeling every ridge and dip. ‘Legends of the Divine and Fallen’, the title reads. 

When you flip through the pages, the book’s well-worn smell engulfs you and something inside you shifts. You brother loved old books. The one in your hand brings you right back to when you were kids. Pietro had a whole wall of shelves filled with his favorite stories. And more so than often, you snuck inside when he was out with his friends, grabbing one whose cover intrigued you the most and then getting lost in the pages until he came back and read it to you. 

He sparked your interest in reading - made you the bookworm you are today. And finally, probably caused you to jump into this adventure with James in hopes of finally living inside on of your fantasy worlds. 

You eyes get caught by a story in the book, your thumbs halting and fully opening the page as intrigue tingles in your entire body with every word you read. 

The Tale of Buchariel: The Curious Angel

In the celestial realms, where light and harmony prevail, there existed an angel named Buchariel. Renowned for his loyalty and dedication, Buchariel was also marked by an insatiable curiosity. His yearning to understand the world beyond the heavenly gates set him apart from his brethren, who were content to serve without question.

One fateful day, driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Buchariel descended to the mortal realm without divine permission. His eyes beheld the beauty and chaos of humanity, the joys and sorrows that defined their existence. It was in this realm, teeming with life and temptation, that Buchariel's fate took a dark turn.

As Buchariel wandered the earth, a demon of cunning and allure took notice of the angel's presence. This demon, skilled in the art of seduction, approached Buchariel with promises of forbidden knowledge and experiences that no celestial being had ever known. Blinded by his curiosity, Buchariel succumbed to the demon's temptations, engaging in acts that defied the sacred laws of the heavens.

Word of Buchariel's fall reached the celestial realm, and the angels were dispatched to retrieve their wayward brother. They arrived in time to save Buchariel from complete corruption, pulling him from the demon's grasp and returning him to the realm of light. However, the consequences of his actions could not be undone.

The celestial court declared Buchariel's punishment. He was stripped of his rank and given an ultimatum: he could return to heaven only if he vowed never to betray the divine will again. God, in His infinite mercy, offered Buchariel a chance at redemption. He was to serve as a guardian angel, watching over humanity and guiding them towards righteousness. In this duty, he could be close to the world, yet stay obedient to heaven. 

Buchariel accepted his fate, grateful for the opportunity to make amends. Yet, the legend speaks of the angel's perpetual struggle. Constantly exposed to the allure of the mortal world, Buchariel walked a fine line between duty and desire. His heart, once pure and untainted, now carried the scars of his past transgressions.

Eons passed, and Buchariel's vigilance never wavered, but neither did the temptations. His soul remained in perpetual conflict, torn between his heavenly duty and the memories of earthly sensations. The legend warns that Buchariel's fall could occur once more, for the battle within him is eternal. He is an angel forever on the edge of sin, a guardian who knows the weight of temptation, and a being who understands the cost of free will.

Thus, the tale of Buchariel serves as both a caution and a beacon. It reminds all who hear it of the delicate balance between obedience and desire, and the endless journey towards redemption that even the most divine must undertake.

A chill runs down your spine as you realize the parallels between the legend and James. The delicate balance between obedience and desire - serving and sinning. James did sin again. When he killed the man who ended your brother’s life. 

You sit in silence, the weight of your realization settling over you like a shroud. It’s clear that Jame’s story resembles that of Buchariel in too many ways to be a coincidence. He was weirdly comfortable on earth, now that you think about it. For Christ's sake he even told you he had met God ‘under rather unfortunate circumstances’. If what the legend says is true, unfortunate is the understatement of the century. Now you cant help but wonder what price he might pay for his defiance.

❁ ❁ ❁

The diner hums with its usual activity, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations fill the air. You move mechanically from table to table, refilling coffee cups and taking orders, but your mind is elsewhere, clouded with thoughts of James and the emptiness his absence has left behind.

Peggy, sitting at her usual spot at the counter, watches you with concern etched on her face. She waits until you pass by her with the coffee pot before speaking up.

"What's happened to that smile of yours, dear?" Peggy asks, her voice soft and maternal. "You used to light up this place."

You force a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Just tired, Peggy. You know how it is."

Peggy's eyes narrow, not buying your excuse for a second. "Tired, my foot. Something's bothering you. You can talk to me, you know."

Before you can respond, Scott chimes in with a smirk. "At least now I know you’re back to normal," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Thought you were gonna float away with all that grinning you were doing."

You shoot Scott a glare, feeling a mix of irritation and sadness. "Thanks, Scott. Really helpful."

“Always at your service” He tips his nonexistent hat, almost bringing a chuckle up within you. In his own way, he never faisl to cheer you up a little.

Peggy waves a dismissive hand at Scott and turns her full attention back to you. "Don't mind him, honey.” She leans in closer, her expression softening. "But seriously, what's going on? I haven't seen you this down in a while."

You sigh, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "It's complicated, Peggy. Someone important to me... well, they're not around anymore. And it's just... hard."

Peggy reaches out and pats your hand gently. “We all miss Pietro, dear. Losing someone is never easy... especially after all you’ve been through.”

You nod, grateful for her kindness, but the ache in your chest remains. You can't bring yourself to tell her it’s not your brother you are mourning at this time. "I appreciate that."

The hustle and bustle of the diner continues around you, but for a brief moment, you feel a small measure of comfort in Peggy's concern.

As you turn to refill another customer's coffee, Peggy's words linger in your mind. Maybe opening up a bit more wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe, just maybe, sharing the burden could help ease the pain of James's absence, even if only a little. But who should you talk to? The only person you were every really close with is gone...

❁ ❁ ❁

Yet another day passes in which you worry yourself tired. The house feels emptier than ever, the silence pressing in on you as you move through the rooms like a ghost. You try to distract yourself with chores and routines, but your thoughts always circle back to James. Wondering if he’s safe or thinking about you.

You sink into the worn armchair by the window, your favorite spot to watch the world outside. But tonight, the familiar view brings no comfort. The sky is a dark canvas, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the loneliness wrap around you like a suffocating blanket as Old Lee’s words echo in your mind once again. 

A quiet sob calls into the empty room - barely audible. And then the tears start falling down your face in constant streams. The memory of his touch, his warmth, his presence, feels like a distant dream. You close your eyes, trying to recall the feeling of James's arms around you, the sound of his heartbeat against yours. It's a comfort and a torment all at once.

You haven’t cried like this since Pietro died... No, actually, you did when the message of Brock’s death reached you. But those were tears of relief rather than pain. 

A sudden chill sweeps through the room, at the memory of the man who tormented your life in more ways than one. You open your eyes, frowning as you notice that it’s not only the thought of Brock making you feel this way. The air seems to crackle with an otherworldly energy. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you feel a strange pull, a familiar yet eerie sensation that makes your heart race.

You stand up slowly, your breath hitching in your throat. The room feels alive with a palpable tension, as if the very fabric of reality is shifting. You turn around, your eyes scanning the dimly lit space.

And then you see him.

❁ ❁ ❁

James stands before you, his presence both startling and comforting, he notes as your herts sync again. His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. You look as if you've been through a storm, yet there is a resolute strength in your gaze that anchors him. He probably doesn’t look much better, considering he in fact has been in said storm. But he’d do anything to come back to you. 

"James," you breathe, your voice trembling with emotion. "You're here.”

He steps forward, closing the distance between you. "I’m here," he says softly, his voice carrying the weight of all the unspoken words and unshared moments.

You reach out, your hand trembling as it touches his cheek, as if verifying that he is real and not another figment of your imagination. Your skin is cold and the sensation sends a flood of emotions through him.

"Where have you been?" you ask, your voice cracking with the weight of your worry.

“It is a long story," he replies, his hand covering yours. "But right now, all that matters is that I'm here. With you.”

In that moment, the world outside fades away, and all that exists is the space between you and James. The silence is filled with unspoken promises and the electric charge of a reunion long overdue. 

When you fall into his arms crying, his knees feel like giving out. He has had a long journey behind him, but he would die before showing you weakness when you need him the most. “I thought I would never see you again!” You cry even harder and James wraps his arms around you with loving pressure.

“I’m here,” he tries to soothe you. His wings come around you once again in search for the calmness that washes over him when he realizes you feel safe. 

“I don’t think I can do without you anymore.” Your voice is muffled against his chest but his heart leaps at your confession. Warmth spreads throughout his body as the realization hits that you finally feel close to the emotions he has harbored for you for so long. 

James wants to promise you that he’ll never leave again. He wants to tell you that there is nothing worth losing you. Not the most tempting offer to ever exist. He wants to hold you forever, in fact, do more than just hold you and give into the feeling he has only ever heard about from demons and sinners. 

But he can’t. Because he knows it would not be true. 

His feud with heaven is far from over. And the journey he plans to venture holds great unknown. So, he settles for the one thing he can tell you with certainty. 

“I cannot be without you, either, my beloved. There is so much I want to experience with you but the most important of them all is love. I love you, with my entire soul and heart. I cannot deny you this truth any longer. I have done the unspeakable because of it and you deserve to know.”

You eyes look up at him widely, a question in them that has waited long enough to be asked. “Brock’s death wasn’t an accident,” you whisper, but your posture remains steady. There is no pain or sorrow in your face. Just pure, plain curiosity.

“They told me he was mugged and thrown in the river. But it never made sense to me.” You pull a little out of his touch and James lets you even though his entire body screams to keep you close. “This town is too small to be mugged in. He was killed with a single stab to his heart. A mugger would never be so efficient.”

You gleam at him, seemingly waiting for him to confirm. But James stands in your presence with a sense of pride. He does not regret is transgression, not when it meant keeping you safe - which was and still is his greatest aim. 

“The way he was found was too peaceful to be from a robbery, either.” You tell him shaking your head. “How can you make a murder look so respectful and honest?” 

“I am sorry if I have upset you, dearest-“

“You haven’t. Brock Rumlow was a bad man. It took me a long time to notice, but he was abusing and ill-driven. If anything, I am upset I couldn’t thank you sooner that he is gone.”

“I had played with the though of removing him from the face of the earth for quite some time,” James confesses, feeling all the secret’s weight rolling off him like avalanches. “From the moment he first screamed at you... to the time he laid his hands on you. But I knew you were strong. I was so proud of you for getting up each day and moving on. I would have never acted had he not hurt you in a way even i could feel throught the very bond that ties our souls together. I knew you could handle the hurtful words, even the hurtful touches - that no-one, and especially not you, deserves. Your brother is of similar cunning as myself. But he was brave enough to act while I was fearing the consequences of testing celestial rule once more.” 

James catches the new tears rushing down your cheeks. But he wont stop telling you. He knows you need to hear it. It hurts him to revisit the memory of watching Pietro die in his quest to secure your freedom. “I was trying to honor you brother as much as ensure your safety when I... killed Brock.” He clears his throat and takes your hands in his. “He would have continued to hurt every person he encountered. I do not regret what I did.”

“Oh, James.” Your hands reach up to his face. James bows down to follow the tug you apply to his jaw. “Thank you for telling me. I am not angry. And despite what the other angels said, I know you are a good person. I love you, too.” 

You smile as James’s hands cover yours on his face. Your foreheads are touching and the room around you fades into nothingness. In this moment in time, there are just you and him, and all the new feeling bubbling inside him that he his eager to explore. 

He’s known it for long, but now he is certain than going back to heaven was never an option. Not when you are still here. 

“I would love to kiss you right now,” you whisper in the space between you, igniting a heat within James he has never felt before.

“I would like that very much,” he confesses and as soon as the words leave his lips, yours are firmly pressed against his. 

The sensation is overwhelming. Your lips are soft and warm, moving against his in a way that sends shivers down his spine. His hands still press yours to his skin, unsure what to do and overwhelmed with the experience opened to him. You gently take them and move then to your waist, then a little lower, making him trace the curve of your body as your tongue slowly slips between his lips. The contact sends a surge of electricity through him, making his heart race.

The kiss is tentative at first, each of you exploring this new and wondrous connection. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself to him as if afraid he might vanish with this daring protest against heaven. He can feel the gentle tremor in your touch, the same mixture of awe and desire that he feels within himself.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. Your breath mingles with his, cheeks heated and lips swollen. “Move your hands, James,” you whisper, guiding his hands to slide even lower on your body, teaching him how to hold you close, even though he thought he has always done so right. This is different. This is more.

He follows your lead, fingers trembling with the intensity of the moment as they squeeze flesh, eliciting a soft whimper from you that makes James’s insides stir. Or maybe it is not his insides after all, he notices when his pants feel tighter all of a sudden. 

Each brush of your lips against his, each caress, speaks of the longing and love that has been building between you for so long. James deepens the kiss, more confident now, feeling the warmth of your body against his, and it’s as if the world outside has ceased to exist.

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, and you smile, voice breathless. “You’re doing great.”

The kiss becomes more fervent, your guidance helping James navigate this new territory. He feels like he’s pouring all his love and devotion into this one act, wanting to convey everything he’s never been able to say. His wings reach round you tentatively, leaving enough air for you to breathe. He want’s to be wrapped up in you more - he cannot explain it.

James pulls back slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “This... this is incredible,” he murmurs in a voice husky with wonder. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You smile, eyes sparkling. “Neither have I.”

Your lips find each other again, more urgent this time, as if you’re making up for lost time - at least James is. The demon who lured him down the first time failed to mention this part of humanity to him.

“I want to show you more,” you finally whisper against his skin and at this point, James is willing to walk the sun if you asked him to. 

“Everything,” he rasps, his lips touching you with every syllable. He cannot get enough of your taste. “Show it all to me, my love.”

“I want to start with taking off our clothes.” You kiss him again, making Jame’s pants feel even tighter. He knows about sex and he knows it is what you are hinting at. But he has never experienced it. It is no use to angels, since they cannot impregnate another. In heaven, it is rarely talked about - and if it is, one is warned about it. 

Right now, James does not care why. He is eager to experience as much as there is on earth with you and then some. So, he lets you guide his hands over your shoulders, shrugging your cardigan off your body and letting his fingers glide beneath the thin straps adorning your shoulders now. 

His hands are so big compared to yours. He marvels in the fact of how much stronger he is, making him able to protect you that much better. 

James has no difficulty guiding the clothes from your body. Nakedness is something barely acknowledged where he comes from. But today... something about it feels different. This situation feels so much more intimate than it usually does. And he notices, when you kneel down to pull his pants down, his cock stands proud from his body, bigger than usual, and hard and- “Oh!” sensitive, he notes when your lips kiss his hip, your face slightly grazing his member in the action. 

With your head next to it, it looks disproportionately huge, but you don’t seem to mind. 

“This... I have never done this before.” James’s hands guide you back up to him. He is certain his cheeks are glowing red by now. He feels hot and bothered, yet so yearning for more of the teasing your face provided for mere seconds before. 

“Are you okay with continuing?” Your eyes find his again. 

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.” And when he nods, you take his hand and lead him down the hall to your bedroom. 

He has missed this place, missed holding you for the time he went away, but he can't tell you where he has been just yet. Not now, anyway. Right now, he wants to experience whatever you are willing to show him. 

You walk around him, touching him all over, watching him react and making him lean down only to pull back before his lips can get a taste of yours again. It’s beautiful agony and James is torn between pulling you into his strong grip and letting you wind him up until his balls feel like they are the ones squeezed tightly. They already are...

Eventually, you come to a stop behind him. He jolts when you fingers drive over the top of his wings, only for you to mumble a quick ‘sorry’ and coming back around in front of him. 

“Don’t be sorry. I was just not expecting it.”

You stare past him and at the white feathers protruding from his back. “They are so soft... and pretty.” You find his eyes. “All of you is pretty.”

He reaches for your face, finding pride in the way you nestle into his palm with a smile. “And dear, you are the most beautiful being the world has ever seen.”

“Can I touch them again?” You whisper only for James to now stare in awe. 

He watches as your hands pass his body in slow-motion. They travel past his ribs and reach carefully towards his wings again. This time, he is prepared, though his stomach feels tight with something opposite of worry. More of a physical feeling he can't begin to explain. He closes his eyes and lets your touch travel over them like a prayer. Your path leaves shivers in its wake and James lets his head hang, reveling in the feeling. He opens his eyes and watches his cock twitch whenever the tingles get too much. 

He gasps breathlessly when you graze the underside of his wings, making his whole body jump slightly. 

“Oh, are those sensitive?” You smile in awe, though your expression turns to excitement when he wheezes out his answer. 

“Very.”

“Do you like it?” 

Your fingers glide over the same spot again, making his cock leak, feeling like he’s about to explode. “Yes!” He grabs the sideboard next to him.

“I want to make you feel good, James” your voice is damp agains this ear and he bites his tongue before bursting. 

“You already do.” 

“I want to make it even better.”

James is not sure he can handle better. He’s already floating miles above the ground when you touch him in the ways you do. Maybe he has to distract himself to enjoy this some more. 

He could think about why heaven would withhold education of how amazing sex can be. That will make him calm a little, posting yet another reason why it was never the place to be for him. 

Your hands wrap around his silver wrists as you guide him to the bed, pushing down on his shoulders until he is sat on the mattress, looking up at you with intrigue and awe. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to ride you, James.” You straddle his lap and his arms immediately reach around you. 

“Ride ...me? I’m not a horse.” He states and watches as your smile lights up. But it settles a weary feeling in his stomach. There is a hint of mischief in your glint, and James is not sure he can handle it right now. 

“Do you trust me?”

“With my entire soul.”

You kiss him and push at his chest. “The lie back for me.”

And so he does, realizing - once again - that anything heaven could offer him pales in comparison to the love he feels for you, a love that knows no bounds or logic and that is reciprocated in your every touch. 

James watches as you scoot up his body until you are sat right behind his cock, which has not ceased to soften one bit since you kissed. It reaches all the way to your navel. But before he can take in the sight and calculate the size difference between you, you press him against your stomach, pulling another moan from his lunges. 

His tip is leaking more and more with every touch you gift him and James starts to worry his body will give out before he can make you feel good. 

“You’re so big, so pretty.” You stroke him from base to top, letting your thumb press into the underside of his cock and send shiver after shiver through James’s body. “I need you inside me.”

“I need that to.” His voice is strangled when you lift up and grind his tip through your wet folds, moaning with the friction he can only assume is the same for you as it is for him. 

In a swift motion, the head of his cock sinks inside you, breaching tight muscle and making him feel dizzy with the new sensation. Your head falls back with a loud breath that makes his abs tighten. This whole time, he feels as though a gust of wind could make him unravel, but something inside him tells James he should hold out - or at least try to. 

The raspy sounds escaping his throat cant seem to stop when you slowly work yourself all the way down his shaft. And the high-pitched scream you set free when his tip reaches another barrier within you makes him twitch and leak even more. 

“Are you alright?” He asks through sweaty brows. 

“I’m amazing.” You smile and lift yourself up only to sink back down into his lap. Your movements become steady, and when he finally gets over the way your mouth hangs slack, the rhythm you set builds even more pressure inside him. 

The room is filled with messy sounds of skin and sweat and moans and heavy breaths. You sink down on him again and again until James feels like he is on fire. But you don’t relent. Your pace never falters when you fall back and your hands grip his thighs, digging into his muscles until his toes curl. 

It’s too much at once and not enough at the same time. James feels as though there is a cliff he could fall over every second now, but he’s too scared to loose the sensations he is experiencing right now to let his body do so. 

“Touch me,” you suddenly say, taking his hands which have fisted inside your duvet until now and placing them on the soft flesh of your breasts. Only now, your nipples are hardened when you guide his fingers over them. “Like this.” You’re somehow fare gone and right there with him. But he does as he his told again, flicking his thumb over the pebbled flesh until your moans grow higher and higher. “Ah, Yes!”

It’s doing something to him, he his twitching every time your pussy squeezes him in tandem with his thumb on your nipples. His body is moving without the permission of his mind when he suddenly thrusts up. And then again. And again. Until you are mewling and crying on top of him, your fingernails digging into his legs painfully hard. 

James immediately drops his hands only to watch you stare at him with wide eyes. 

“What’s the matter. Why did you stop?”

He bites his lips in shame when he realizes he misses your constant movement on his cock. “Am I hurting you?”

You eyes possibly widen further. Leaning forward and capturing his cheeks with both lips and hands, you shake your head after you pull away. “No! No, its a good thing, love. You feel so good. You...” Your expression changes to a rather shy one. “You’re just very big. You should be proud.”

Something inside James clicks as you confess with another kiss to his lips. A smirk spreads beneath them when he curiously thrusts up inside you and experiences your hot breath gains his face. 

In a second, his hands grab onto your hips, his body turns and flips the pair of you until your back hits the mattress as gently as he can offer in his compromised position. 

A last look of reassurance when your eyes lock with his set off the urges he has suppressed so far. His hips snap forward over and over again, your pussy tightening more around him with every push. Your hands are fist into the covers, head thrown back and mouth open. There is no more sound coming from you at this point. And James understands why. He is as overwhelmed with the feeling as you look. When you grow even tighter, gripping this cock until he cannot move anymore, white pleasure as hot as hellfire rushes through his body, kissing his nerves from head to toe. He feels his balls empty as he paints your inside with his spent, only being able to lazily rut into you after a minute to seize every last drop of pleasure this moment has to offer. 

Then he falls forward as if a higher force has taken all the strength from his body, though careful not to hurt you when his weight settles on top of you. 

“What-“ he needs to catch his breath first. “What was that?”

“That,” you open your eyes, chest having with every deep breath, “was an orgasm.” Your hands brush through his hair and James finds himself purring at the touch. “And it was the best one I’ve ever had.” 

You kiss him and chuckle when he looks at you questioningly. “I guess you could say it was outer-worldly... or even heavenly.” 

James rolls his eyes but can’t stop the laugh from slipping his lunges. He pulls back and watches as his softened cock leaves your pussy, only to be followed by your mixed arousal dripping out of you. 

Trance-like, his hand moves to collect the fluid and begins to smear it over your petals, up into the soft tuft above it. He knows angels cannot impregnate other beings, but he is fascinated by the scene in front of him. It’s like a little testimony when he marks you all around the best place he has ever experienced, wordlessly rubbing and enjoying the whimpering sounds you make when he flicks over a particular spot. 

“Is this sensitive?” He teases with a smirk only to be met with a playful smack on his arm. 

“Very.” you say. “But I am entirely satisfied as of right now.”

James sighs and falls into the sheets beside you. “Me too.” He nuzzles into your neck and pulls you closer to his body. He does not care that you are sticky with sweat or that neither of you are cleaned up. He just needs to hold you now that reality has taken its place back around him again. 

“So, you have been watching over me for - what? All my life?”

James hides the chuckle bubbling up his throat at your sudden question. He still has his eyes closed, taking in the feeling of your nails lightly scratching up and down his forearms. It makes him tingly. 

“All your life, yes.”

“And have you ever meddled with other things that were supposed to happen to me?”

“Do you remember the year in which you kept finding pineapples in arbitrary places?”

It’s silent for a moment, but your movements don’t falter. “I always thought that was a weird coincidence.”

James smiles into the crook of your neck. “Consider it my way of adding a little excitement to your life. And maybe a small attempt to make you notice me.”

You push yourself up slightly and rest on your elbows as you look at James. “I like you like this.” You smile.

“Like what?” He’s smiling as well.”

“Less angel, more...” Your hand comes up to gesture at nothing in particular. “...deviant.”

The smile on James’s face turns into a proud grin before he leans up to kiss you tenderly, savoring the moment and pushing away the thought that has been gnawing on him ever since he came back. 

He holds you until you fall asleep, purposefully missing the opportunity to tell you what he has gotten himself into while he was away.

❁ ❁ ❁

James stands in the garden, the sky overcast and heavy with the promise of rain. He’s out here to retrieve a bouquet of your favorite flowers, smiling like a fool because he finally has what he always wished for. All his mishaps and seem worth it when he holds you in his arms at night. 

The flowers are vibrant and alive, and he bends to pick them with a sense of purpose, each blossom a token of his affection. Even as the first raindrops start to fall, his joy is undiminished. The rain doesn’t bother him; it’s a minor inconvenience compared to the happiness he’s found with you. 

As he moves through the garden, he thinks of the moments you’ve shared—the way your eyes light up when you see him, the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter, the way you writhe beneath him in she sheets. For the first time in his existence, he feels complete. 

James clutches the bouquet and heads back toward the house, eager to see the surprise on your face when he presents you with the flowers.

But before he can pass the threshold, an eery feeling spreads though is soul, a shadow falls over him but vanishes just as soon. He scans the yard, his sight nestling through the trees at the very edge of it and then suddenly halting when he sees Wanda leaning against one at the very far corner of your property. Her presence is like a dark cloud on the horizon, a stark contrast to the bright joy he feels. Her red eyes glint with a knowing look, and her lips curl into a smirk that sends a chill down his spine.

“Are you not coming inside, James? The weather will only get worse.” You shout through the house only to appear behind him to inspect what is keeping him outside. 

But James’s stare is fixated on the demon in your yard, his protective instincts setting in immediately, scanning his surroundings while keeping a close eye on Wanda. 

“What is going on?” You ask and reach your arms around him from the side. He can sense you’re eyeing him but he knows you see what he is seeing when your entire body grows rigid beside him. 

“Who is that?” you whisper into James’s shoulder as you step even closer to him, your voice barely audible over the increasing patter of rain. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to shield you from the inevitable storm brewing. A quick look at your state tells him he should have send you inside. But It is too late for that now. 

When his head turns back into the direction of the demon, it is no longer in its prior place. Instead, Wanda has moved across the garden with impeccable speed, looking up at the pair of you a few feet alway from the step leading to your porch. 

“You promised me time to explore the likes of this life.” His voice is low and intimidating, though he knows its futile in the face of a demon. They are scared of very little. 

“And explored you have,” her red hair falls over her shoulder when her head ticks to the side. “Tell me, Bucharius, is it worth the cost?”

The demon knows of the leverage it has on him. James was sure he would follow through with his request from the start. But he forgot, or maybe just hoped, the devil’s spawn would gift him more time until he had to go and seal the contract. 

“You know it is,” he pushes though clenched teeth, hating how your fingers clamp around his arm already. 

“Actually, I don’t. But I would be an idiot to refuse an offer such as yours.” Wanda clasps her long fingers together and grins with evil. “Oh, I will have so much fun with your soul once the time comes.”

The angel closes his eyes tightly, hating the way the demon pressures him to leave so soon. But it is for the greater good, for him at least. He need’s to be selfish for once - to be able to spend a lifetime providing whatever you desire. 

“Just give me a moment, Wanda,” James says, his voice steady despite the chaos inside his head. He knows his flicker of happiness is about to be shattered, but he wants to hold onto it for just a little longer.

“What is happening? What does she want?” There are tears brimming in your eyes and James decides he has seen them far too many times to be a good guardian to you. It just secures his decision to do what Wanda came to collect him for. 

James presses his lips to the crown of your head before gently tilting it upward with his fingers. His gaze is steady, exuding a confidence while you desperately cling to him in your confusion.

“I’m not sure I can handle all this newfound angelic drama,” you mutter with unease, and James kisses you—short and sweet, a fleeting moment of peace.

Then he whispers against your lips, “Please, you handle drama like a queen. Remember that time you dealt with Valentina from accounting?” His attempt at humor brings a small smile to your face, and he momentarily loses himself in the warmth and security it provides.

But the feeling doesn’t last long.

“James has made a deal with the devil,” Wanda grins, her red eyes flashing with malevolent glee.

Her words send shivers over your body, James feels the ripples pass beneath his fingertips. You pull away from your guardian angel, whose troubles have now escalated to an unthinkable level. 

“What does she mean, James?”

❁ ❁ ❁

James’s silence is deafening. You pray, you beg, for this to be a terrible joke, but deep down, you know it’s not.

“James.” Your words are strained, desperate for answers, desperate for reassurance. “What is she talking about?”

“It is true,” James finally admits, his eyes free of sorrow but filled with determination. “I have made a deal with Lucifer. My wings for a mortal life. My soul when it leaves my deceased body after spending a lifetime with you.”

“What?” The word is a whisper, your mind struggling to process the gravity of his confession. Because your cheeks feel salty and stained before you realize what James has just told you. “Why are you doing this?” you ask through your tears.

“Because I’d give up heaven if it meant being with you.” James’s eyes burn into yours, the rain dripping off his wet face deceivingly. His voice is steady, unwavering. “I’d go to hell a thousand times over until my soul burns to ashes if it meant I get to hold you one more time. You’re everything to me. Everything.”

Another wave of shivers slip over your skin with the way he presses the last word. His eyes are fiery, almost desperate. He is trying to make you understand how much better this decision is, but you fail to see how it can. “You can’t do this. You are destined for more. There are many more to come after me that need protecting and watching over.”

“And there have been plenty before you, yet none of them have or will ever compare, my love.” He touches your cheek, but you push his hand away. Your heart is already aching when you watch his face fall at the gesture. But you are not made for these types of dilemmas. You are human for fuck’s sake. “I would spend eternity regretting not experiencing life with you. I am tired of watching; I am over feeling the distance between us. Going back to heaven means finding you someone else to love. And I cannot do that. It would destroy me, burn me alive, rip my heart out of my chest.”

“James, think about this.” Now the first angry tear slips from his face and mixes with he rain which has grown heavier. Dark clouds cast over the scene, matching the mood perfectly. Dreary and sad - how poetic. 

“I have. For far too long. I will never feel truly fulfilled until I can be what you need me to be: a real, tangible person that grows old with you.”

You shake your head, your hair sticking to your skin. “You have to believe me when I tell you that I exist only for you. My life was dull before you entered it, and it will feel like a black hole when you leave. There is nothing—nothing—I wouldn’t do to be with you.”

Never before have words felt more genuine than this. James is hunched forward, his eyes pleading at you from above. A sneaky hand has captured yours and presses it to his chest, where his heart is beating vigorously against your skin. 

Resignation laces your voice when you finally answer him. “So you’re just going to leave now? For how long? What if he tricked you?”

You don’t know  much about all the rules but one thing is for sure, the devil likes to play and deceive. Just the thought of James walking into a trap makes your stomach churn. 

“Then it was worth it.” There is something akin to content and fulfillment in Jame’s stare when his hand squeezes yours and his heartbeat slows. Though your’s seems to do the opposite. 

“No.” You say breathlessly. 

“I’m sorry," he answers, and wraps your fingers around the bouquet in his hands.

“James.”

“I love you.”

“James.”

The rain intensifies, pounding the earth as if mirroring the turmoil in your heart. James turns and lets Wanda put him in chains, leading him away. You fall to your knees, crying, the three words you have yet to say hanging on your lips for nobody to hear. He’s gone. He’s gone without the knowledge of ever seeing you again.

❁ ❁ ❁

And just like that it ends like it began: in tragedy… and rain.

❁ ❁ ❁

Maybe you are just not cut out for happiness, you think as you wipe down the counter with a frown. The sun is shining today, almost mocking your bad mood with every chirping of birds outside. Earlier today, you were so angry about the reflection blinding you inside that you shut the blinds completely. 

James has been gone for a week now and you already feel like breaking down over what you’ve lost whenever something is mentioned that reminds you of him. 

A few days ago, after a really rough night, you swore you’d never let anyone this close to you. It’s the perfect start for you villain origin story, really. Losing your brother to an abusive ex. Losing said abusive ex thanks to a protective angel. Then falling in love with the angel only for him to go to hell for loving you back. 

You heart cannot take another hit. It’s constantly breaking as you think about the torture and pain James is probably suffering in the pits of hell. There is just no more room for another person, another worry, or anything else, really. 

You will just die an old and groggy lady, likely still cleaning this very counter until you cant anymore. The whole town is going to know you as the weird woman with seventy two cats.

You shake at the thought of it, disposing of your towel and grabbings some plates from the counter to clean up some more.

“New customer is yours, freaking weirdo has been standing outside the window and looking inside like some kind of stalker,” Scott mumbles as he paces by you with his head buried in his phone screen. 

You just sigh and throw a used napkin into the trash before loading the dirty plates onto a kitchen tray. 

“I’d like a sandwich, please.” A voice sounds from behind you and your entire body goes rigid.

It can’t be. It cant. For days you have been wishing for James to come back, now you are finally becoming crazy. 

But your heart picks up its familiar sprint and your entire body tingles with hope. Still, you don’t dare to turn around. 

“Are you not going to look at me, dearest?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the edge of the counter. What if it’s real? What if it’s not? The uncertainty gnaws at you, each second stretching into an eternity. You’ve dreamed of this moment, but dreams are fickle things, easily shattered by the harsh light of reality.

“James...” The name slips out in a whisper, a plea, a hope. Tears sting your eyes, and you squeeze them shut, bracing yourself for the worst.

You take a deep breath and finally turn around. Truly, there he stands in front of you, with a bright and gleaming grin on his lips. There is one thing you notice immediately: the silver cuffs on his arms are gone. And he looks oddly free without them.

Almost trance-like, you round the counter, your had reaches out to him, touching his jaw, gliding down the length of his neck until your fingertips disappear into the soft curls in the back of it. 

“Is it really you?” You whisper in awe as you start to drown in the familiar blue of his eyes. And when James covers your hand with his, squeezing his reassuring sequence to your bones, you know. It’s real. 

“In the ...flesh.” he frowns but then smiles widely. 

“What happened when you were gone?” Your curiosity gets the better of you, but James just shakes his head and then turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrist. 

“Not here, love. Take me home... if you’ll have me. Take me back. I promise no more secrets from now on.”

You just nod vigorously, finally pulling James into your embrace. The worry raging inside you fades into insignificance, eclipsed by the certainty that in this moment, you’ve regained something intently more powerful - a bond that defies explanation, but feels undeniably perfect. 

“I will always choose you over anything else, James.” You nuzzle into his chest as you ravel in the warmth of his body and the security of his touch. His heart is singing the same song as yours and his head hangs low atop yours, pressing meaningful kisses to your hairline between every stroke of his hand on your back. 

The diner around you might as well not exist. All that matters is this connection between you - the bond that defies the boundaries of heaven and earth. 

“But tell me one thing,” you whisper into his shirt and James moves to better hear your low voice. 

“I will tell you anything,” he presses into another kiss on your face, still holding you close. 

“Are you... did the-“ you’re not sure how to assemble the questions inside your mind without being bold. But James seems to know exactly what it is you want to say. 

He takes both his hands from around you and guides your face to his until his warm lips press a meaningful kiss to yours. “Yes,” he murmurs softly, yet steadily, conveying just enough seriousness to let you know how important and truthful his answer is. “I did what I promised. I am yours until the end of my life, and even beyond, my soul will be seeking yours for eternity. But until then, we will grow old together and finally be what we were meant to.”

His lips latch onto yours a second time and as the kiss deepens, a sense of completeness washes over you. In James’s arms, you find the solace and passion you have been yearning for, a promise of love that transcends all else. 

“I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me.” You smile back between kisses.

James pulls you even closer, his voice a gentle murmur against your lips. “We have a lifetime to show each other.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of a bustling diner and the warmth of his embrace, you know that no matter the trials ahead, this love will endure, defying all boundaries and transcending every limit. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Because at last, there’s noting more freeing than falling itself.

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

Lord, can we take a second and appreciate these images???!! Got me on my knees - and not for praying, I'll tell you this much...

Hello, loves. As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. I hope you had fun! Maybe... juuuust maybe if you want to, you could leave a comment or reblog on this post. New fics will be on hiatus until August, I have some real life work to finish. But please feel free to interact and talk to me. I love hearing from you! Take care, and ill talk to you as soon as I can. ~Meg 💗

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[your-averagewriter]

"Only for you, darlin'"

Summary: Cooper heads into town in search for some RadAway for you when he stumbles upon a cute gift (Cooper Howard x fem!reader).

Word count: 1.0K

Warnings: needles, kissing (slightly ig)

-

-

Stalking through the desert, he heads towards the town in search of some RadAway for you, the radiation reaching too high of a level for Cooper to be comfortable with, especially in his presence.

His boots echo through the makeshift tunnel made of old tubing before sunlight peaks out of the other end, exposing the market on the other side, countless signs decorating the stalls. He pulls his hat down slightly in order to cover his irradiated face more, less because some people find it unsettling and more so people don’t recognise he’s a ghoul.

He walks along the stalls, searching for any RadAway and some other supplies that need topping up. 

Signs stick out to him yet none offer what he needs until he reaches a store with various niche medical supplies as well as bandages and the like. Walking up to the store, he looks over the small bottles and pills decorating the side but doesn't see anything Stimpaks or RadAway.

“Ay,” He gets the attention of the store owner. “You got any RadAway?” He asks, looking up at the man covered in shredded clothes. He shakes his head before looking down at what looks like an old graphic novel. “You sure? I got plenty of caps.”

“How many?” He asks, accent showing he’s not from around here.

“Plenty.” He reinterrates, shaking his bag causing the rattling of the caps and the man puts the graphic novel down, heading further into the shop before returning with a pouch of liquid with a strip of duct tape on, scraggly writing on it.

“I keep it in the back, people nick this stuff the most. 50 caps.” 

Cooper scoffs. “50?” He asks, confusion mixed with annoyance in his voice. “30.”

“45.” He counters. “And I’ll throw in a Stimpak.”

“Fine” Cooper counters and the seller sighs before pushing it towards him whilst Copper pushes the caps on the side. “And you got the good deal there, you should feel lucky I’m willing to pay for this.” He snatches it from the side, rolling his eyes before moving on to finding other items but glad he’s got what he came for.

Strolling through the town, he looks in the store windows, something catching his eye in a junk store. He pushes open the door, a bell ringing making him wonder if it’s a trap but why would there be a trap when someone is trying to sell junk?

“Hey darlin’, feel free to take a look around.” An old woman says, crazy hair covering most of her face making him feel uneasy that he can barely see her eyes. He nods before heading towards the window display, boots hitting the wooden planks underfoot noisily as they creak.

A toy rabbit sits in the window, no more than a foot tall with fluffy ears and a cute nose. He swipes at it, examining it and dusting it off before looking for some sort of price label.

“How much for this?” He turns to face the woman who pushes her glasses up, scrunching her nose as she squints at the item.

“8 caps, but for you 4. Who’s this for?” He pulls out another five caps and drops them on the table before carefully putting the bunny in his bag, making sure it’s tucked in and the clasp is shut properly. He pulls on the latch, checking its security. Secure. 

“My girl, she loves bunnies. Thanks.” He grumbles, walking out the store and off to the base again.

He walks back through the desert, kicking the sand as he goes, mumbling to himself and even whistling slightly. He lifts his hand to keep the sun out of his face as the base appears in his field of vision. Base is a strong word for a couple of broken down buildings just by the trees that are more secure than you would think. It provides cover and hides flames when it gets cold.

He can’t help the edges of his lips quirking up at the sight of the base and his girl.

Under an hour later, he returns to the base, stepping through the ‘door’. “Sweetheart?” He yells through the base.

“Cooper, that you?” You ask, sweet voice ringing through the walls.

“‘Course it’s me.” He grins to himself, following your voice.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me come with you.” You say before being interrupted by a cough. After moments of coughing, Cooper rubs your back and once you start speaking, he reaches into his bag.

“Did you get a Stim-” You start but he passes it to you with a brief kiss to the cheek. “Thanks.” You smile before looking down at the Stimpak wrapped in a cloth. Taking it out, your eyes are immediately on the needle, you take a pause and deep breath before injecting it into your thigh.

Letting out a breath, you drop the used Stimpak and look back to Cooper who wears a smirk, holding back a laugh.

“What are you laughing about?” You cock an eyebrow.

“You ain’t scared of no mutants, no raiders, nothing but needles.” He chuckles, his accent prominent. “It’s cute.” He says before remembering the bunny toy in his bag. “I got you something in town.” He says, rootling through his bag.

“More RadAway?” You ask, knowing his paranoia about you getting too much radiation when being around him. 

“Yeah, but I got you something else too.” He pulls the bunny out of his bag. “Now I know it ain’t much, but I saw it and thought you’d like it…” He presents the bunny, quickly brushing off some of the sand from the journey.

“Aww.” You can help but coo at the cute bunny, taking it off of him and holding it gently, picking up one of the ears and letting it flop back down. “You didn’t spend too much on it, did you?” You look back over to him.

“Y’know it’s rude to ask about someone’s finances, sweetheart.” He teases. “Besides, the lady gave it to me for cheap, probably knew I was getting it for my girl.”

“Probably knew you were a softie.” You tease.

“Only for you, darlin’.” He picks up your hand and leans down, kissing it playfully.

-

AN: I can't believe I haven't posted anything for over three months… sorry I've had exams and extra and it's just been stressful so hopefully I can get a bit more on track.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

[janeyseymour]

Wouldn't Deny That I'm In Love With You

Disclaimer: @schemmentigfs and I both got the same prompt, but decided to both write our own takes on it... so... but also like go read hers because it's a fucking slay.

Summary: You're a sunny art teacher, and you're married to the Abbott grump. No one knows. (requested by @strawberrypink-jellybeans )

WC: ~4.6k

Ms. Y/N. Ms. Schemmenti. Two souls who just so happen to find each other at the school that you both work at. Two souls that just so happen to be married to each other, undetected and unknown by most of the Abbott Elementary staff- aside from Barbara Howard, who doesn’t say much in regard to the topic because she knows of her work wife’s preferences. Two souls who, despite being near polar opposites, have found a love that they each hold near to their hearts.

Five years the two of you have been together. Three of those years, you’ve spent married. Why no one has really caught onto the fact that the tough, take no shit, second grade teacher and the always sunny and radiating joy art teacher are together? You never made a big deal about it, and you probably won’t ever. The only times that the two of you are necessarily together at school is when she brings her students to you for their related arts time. Your lunches and preps don’t line up, and Melissa likes to get to the school early enough to catch the news and prepare for her day while you prefer to lie in bed for longer than you would like to admit. There’s no need for all of glitz and glamour- no, instead, you began dating quietly, and then two years later you made your way down to City Hall with simple rings that had arrived in the mail from Amazon. With Barbara Howard as your witness, the two of you wed in a small conference room in the center of the city that had both of your hearts.

The change of last names never happened. Everyone at Abbott is so used to Melissa being a Schemmenti, and she takes pride in that last name. And you? You wouldn’t have minded being Mrs. Schemmenti, but you did fear that it would confuse some of your younger students. So, you kept your last name too. 

And since that beautiful day two years ago, you’ve never been happier. Your sunny disposition only became brighter. And for a bit, Melissa was lighter on her toes before slipping back into the rough and tough teacher she was known to be. And no one ever asked why you began to wear a ring on your left hand- just another addition to the many rings that you tend to wear on a daily basis. The same goes for your wife. So no one at Abbott is aware of the marriage- including your boss, who has glossed over the fact that your paystubs have the same address.

If anybody had ever asked why either of you began wearing rings, you would tell them that you happily got married. And if anyone had asked why Melissa was wearing a new ring, she would tell them that someone finally managed to tie her down. And if they were smart about it, they would’ve known that the two of you are happily married. But you suppose that nobody expects the fiery redhead and the sweet art teacher to really cross paths to begin with. 

It’s not like you hide the fact that you’re in a relationship. You really don’t. In all honesty, you wear your heart on your sleeve, and outside of school, everyone knows that you are happily married. You have your regular spots for dinner and coffee, her family absolutely adores you, and your family has made it quite clear that if you were to divorce Melissa, they would take her side in the matter.

Outside of school, those who know that the two of you are together know just how in love the two of you are. You’re not afraid to tell people how you love her- grumpiness and all. 

Even your families are slightly attune to the fact that your wife isn’t always the badass bitch she pretends to be. They watch the way she tends to be with you, how you have this magical presence about you that eases everybody, but especially Melissa. They see how she holds you tenderly and how you are at such an ease with her, and you’re usually at ease to begin with. 

But you know that there’s a time and a place to bring out the softness of your redheaded angel. And school is not necessarily the time or the place. Well, until… 

It’s a Thursday morning when Melissa slams her fist into her alarm clock with a bit more force than she usually would that you know today is going to be a day where your phone just constantly goes off because you need to help keep your wife from committing arson.

After yesterday, you have a feeling that today is going to be a shit show for your wife. You’re quite thankful that you don’t have to deal with parents very often after you hear some of the horrors your wife has gone through.

When you expect her to roll out of bed to get into the shower, she doesn’t. She simply tightens her hold on you and kisses your neck.

“Hun,” you chuckle softly. “Babe.”

“Don’t wanna go to work today,” Melissa mumbles into the crook of your neck. “Don’t make me.”

You chuckle lowly. “You don’t have to, Lis. But I am going.”

“Stay with me,” your wife whines. “C’mon. We never take a day.”

“I can lay with you until it’s time for me to get up, but you know how excited I am to start this unit with the kiddos,” you tell her.

She groans at your insistence. “I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

Her laying with you only lasts a few minutes longer before she huffs and throws the covers off of her body. “If I go to work today, will you at least come shower with me?”

With a giggle, you follow her into the bathroom.

You think that maybe with the way she left the house this morning while you finished up your makeup and getting ready, her mood would be slightly better than it would’ve been had you not had sex in the shower.

But on your drive to work, you get a call from Melissa, and you know that nothing good can come from a call from her this early.

“What’s up, babe?” you answer brightly.

“I’m going to commit a crime,” your wife huffs into the phone.

You sigh deeply. “No, you are not,” you tell her firmly. “What happened?”

The redhead proceeds to tell you about the terrible email that a certain parent had sent her last night, claiming that she was the worst teacher in the greater Philadelphia area and that she was going to sue.

“I doubt that she’ll do that, and you know you are a great teacher,” you attempt to calm the fired up woman.

“I’m going to commit a crime for a different reason,” Melissa tells you.

“And that would be?”

“She left a voicemail on my phone and called me a dyke.”

That was probably the last thing that you expected your wife to say, and your heart breaks in your chest. You know that particular word brings up quite a few things for the redhead from her past, and you can’t say you’re fond of that slur either. 

“My love,” you make your voice as warm and as calm as you possibly can. “I’m sorry. What do you need right now? Comfort, or a solution?”

“Both.”

“Well, my comfort solution right now is that I’m about five minutes from school, so you can head to my classroom and wait for me there. And my solution solution would be to go to Ava with the email and the voicemail and see what she has to say about it.”

You hear a soft hum come from Melissa as she debates which one she should do.

“Or, you can come to my classroom, and when I get there, we can go together.”

Melissa doesn’t end up doing any of those things. Of course she doesn’t. She stays on the phone with you until you get to your place of employment, but then she claims that she’s fine and doesn’t need to come to your classroom and she can handle the situation on her own.

And that solution is for her to simply simmer in her classroom- she doesn’t want to bother you when she knows that you have so much to prepare for today.

When the kiddos begin to trickle in, you’re upstairs in your classroom while Melissa stands by her door and tries to smile as her students greet her.

That’s when the parent comes in. She comes in with a fire and storms right up to your wife.

“The hell do you think you are?” the mother gets right in the redhead’s face. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Ma’am,” Melissa says, scarily calm. “Now is not the time or the place. If you wish to speak to me after school, I would be more than happy to do so with my boss present.”

“I think here is a great place, and now is the time! Because I won’t have time to have a conversation with you at the end of the school day! I have to get my daughter home and ready for gymnastics! Not like you would know anything about that, fuckin’ pathetic, childless fag.” The woman ends up screaming in your wife’s face because of a note that was sent home in regards to her daughter’s behavior the previous day. She ends up getting so close to Melissa that she can smell the booze in her breath- at 7:30 in the morning.

To the second grade teacher’s credit, she remains eerily calm the entire time. The only signal that she is getting angrier is that her fists clench and uncurl every so often. And because of this, Barbara Howard does not get involved. Instead, the kindergarten teacher greets her students while keeping a careful eye on her work wife and makes a mental note to text you a warning about your wife’s attitude when you see her later today.

Unfortunately, kindergarteners always keep the woman of God on her toes, and that text doesn’t get sent until you’re already in the middle of teaching your sixth graders.

A parent came in here raging at your wife. Lay’s mom.

She sent Lis a nasty email last night too… Should I come check on her?

I’m already sending her up. Having Janine watch her class as we speak.

Thank you.

Good luck.

You can hear your wife before you see her appear in the doorway, her heels clicking on the tile in a way where you know she’s pissed. And then her face is in front of you, and you can see how pissed she is. 

“Hey,” you smile warmly at your wife. “Just give me a second to get the kids set up, and then-”

“Why did Barb send me up here?” Melissa bites out. “I don’t have time for this, Ms. Y/N.”

A few of your students look to the feisty second grade teacher with what you can only describe as a scowl. She’s speaking to you, the sweet and sunny art teacher, in such a bitter way.

You just give her a look that tells her to simmer down before turning back to your students. Some of them are waving at her, as she was their second grade teacher, but most of them just look confused that she’s up here when second grade doesn’t have their special until the end of the day, and she’s here on her own. You give them their instruction and ask them to do it quietly while you speak with Miss Schemmenti. Being a good group of students, they all take out their sketchbooks and begin to work. So, you step into the hall and crack your door.

“Lis,” you sigh quietly once you have privacy.

“‘m. fine,” your wife grits out. “Don’ even know why Barb sent me up here.”

“Because it’s clear you’re pissed, and that woman was yelling in your face.”

“And?” the redhead challenges. “I handled it fine. Didn’t even start cursing in Italian when I went into my classroom. I don’ need Barb, or you, acting like I’m gonna fly off the handle at every little thing. I don’ need it.”

“Lis.” You raise a brow and hug your arms around your body. “C’mon. We’re just looking out for you because we love you.”

“And I can handle it on my own.”

You frown, but nod. “Okay, hun. If you say so. But just know, I’m always here for you.”

Your wife just gives you a look that is clearly asking if you have anything else to say, or if she can go.

“Okay, babe,” you sigh. “I’m sorry she sent you up here, but we’re just looking out for you and making sure you’re okay. We love you, you know.”

The redhead finally begins to soften up a little. “I know.”

“Good.” You reach a hand out and squeeze hers gently before dropping it between the two of you. “I’ll see you when you bring your kiddos up for art?”

“Yeah,” the redhead sighs.

“And then tonight, we can just relax, yeah?”

She nods.

“I love you, Lis.”

“I love you too,” Melissa whispers back. She turns her head both ways to see if any students are wandering the hall, and for once there aren’t any stragglers. So, she leans in for a quick kiss- one that you reciprocate. And then she’s off down the hallways, heels still clanking against the tile, but slightly less aggressively. You can’t help but watch her figure as she goes before turning back into your classroom.

What the two of you weren’t aware of is that one of your students had gotten up to ask if she could use the restroom, and she saw the two of you kiss.

The class is whispering rapidly when you walk in, but you don’t really mind. You had given them an easy assignment, and it was simply to draw how they were feeling today. You knew it wouldn’t take much time, and you were prepared to walk back into your classroom to a more chaotic situation than you had. What you don’t know is that they were already whispering about you and Melissa. They go quiet as you walk back into the room.

Your smile is warm and your eyes are soft as you continue class with a grateful thank you for their patience and behavior.

By the time their teacher comes to pick them up, the word has spread like a wildfire- or a Schemmenti-made fire. They took to texting their friends while you gave them time to work on their sculptures with the option of listening to music on their phones.

But you are blissfully unaware of the rumors circulating about you and the second grade teacher you call your wife, so you send them off with a smile. When your next group comes in, those kids are well-behaved, albeit a bit chatty. You don’t tend to listen in on their conversations, so you don’t know that they’re speaking about you. You don’t miss the way some of them look at you, but you suppose that maybe they just aren’t fond of this outfit today. Still, you maintain your positive and bright disposition throughout the class period. 

When your prep period comes around, you feel as though you’re in a good spot to be. So, you settle at your desk with a light snack and your phone.

I hope your day got better, you text Melissa.

Her response comes a bit later, as you’re thumbing through a few papers. Yeah. Got a few visitors from past years swinging by the room too, which is nice. Reminds me that I’m a good teacher.

Neither of you are aware that her former students are stopping by to get a look at her- as if they can see if the rumor is true or not by simply looking at her. 

You are, you reply. I’m glad your day got better.

Thanks sunshine.

You smile dreamily at her words.

Come lunch, word about the two of you dating has gone through the school. Even most of the teachers are aware of the rumor- but you’re upstairs in your own little bubble, and everybody has seen the mood that your wife is in, so no one says anything. Not even Jacob, who is known for his curiosity, says anything. The lunch room is eerily quiet, and Melissa can’t say she’s unhappy about it. After chaos in her classroom, the redhead welcomes the calm eagerly.

Your last class to come by today is your wife’s. You’re standing outside of your classroom waiting for them when you see her marching her students down. She clearly seems to be in a better mood, and for that you are thankful. A grumpy Melissa at home is not a fun Melissa.

“Hello, Ms. Schemmenti!” you singsong, and your heart fills when she gives you a smile she usually reserves for you at home.

“Ms. Y/N,” the second grade teacher chuckles. She smirks. “My little eagles have been talking about how they’re so excited to see you today.”

You grin brightly at the kids lined up at your door. “How sweet,” you coo, and you ruffle Rakeem’s hair gently. “C’mon in, find your seats, and pull out your sketchbooks for me, okay?”

They file their way in, and you take the opportunity to look at your wife in all of her beauty for a few seconds. “Better day?”

“Better day,” Melissa sighs quietly. “And I talked to Ava about that situation, and she’s surprisingly willing to help me out.”

“Say what you want about Ava,” you chuckle. “But she does her job sufficiently.”

The redhead rolls her eyes and shrugs, and all you can do is smirk. “Have a good prep period, hun.”

“Have fun with my monsters.”

You turn into the room with a dopey lovesick smile on your face before you begin your last lesson of the day. 

The second grade teacher is all caught up on her work, and she doesn’t really have much else to discuss with Janine in terms of curriculum, so Melissa makes her way up the stairs about ten minutes early.

You’re fully immersed in your teaching when she comes by, and all she can do is lean against the doorframe and watch you work your magic. It’s… definitely a different approach from her own teaching style, but you thrive. You’re easily one of the best teachers at Abbott, and your wife knows that- she tells you constantly.

You don’t even notice that she’s standing there, until you notice that your students are maybe not as engaged as they usually are with you.

“My loves,” you sigh softly, but the smile on your face is still present. “I do wish you would stay with me so you know what we’ll be doing next class.”

“C’mon, my little eagles,” Melissa scolds them gently. “You gotta listen to-”

“Am I running late?” you turn on your heel and look at Melissa.

She shakes her head. “Just had a few extra minutes. Thought I’d see what my favorite students are up to with one of their favorite teachers.”

“Oh,” you ease up immediately. “Well, come on in, Mel- Ms. Schemmenti.”

The redhead takes an empty stool and watches as you teach for the last few minutes. The students look between the two of you the entire time.

When there are a few minutes left of class, you ask the children if they have any questions- and you should’ve been specific in asking if they had any questions about the future of their art projects. Immediately, almost every student’s hand goes up.

You frown just slightly. “Was I not clear enough with my instruction?” you mumble to yourself. You thought you had been quite clear with the next steps and expectations. “Yes, Angel?”

“Are you and Ms. Schemmenti dating?”

You give a blank stare, and then your brows creep up your forehead. “What?”

“Are you and Ms. Schemmenti dating?” she repeats. 

You glance to your wife, and she just gives you a look that states you can say whatever you want. With a nod of her head, you take a deep breath.

“Where did this come from?” you inquire.

This time, Malia speaks up. “My older brother saw you and Ms. Schemmenti this morning in the hallway kissing.”

“Wh-” Melissa gasps out. “That-”

“He said that Ms. Schemmenti came up during his class, and when he got up to ask to go to the bathroom he saw her kiss you.”

You bite your lip. “Well, that rumor is not true.”

The class gives a collective sigh, and you allow them to believe what you said before you smile.

“Because actually… Ms. Schemmenti and I are married.” You hold up your left hand and wiggle your ring finger. The students’ eyes go from you to your wife, who is also holding up her left hand with a smirk. 

The frowns and sad sighs quickly turn into wide eyes, mouths agape, big smiles, and cheers. Questions are flying at you a million miles a minute, and you can’t help but chuckle. Instead of trying to answer them over the chaos in your room, you simply make your way over to the redhead and drape an arm around her shoulder while you wait for them to get their excitement out. It takes a minute for their shock to die down and for you to wrangle their attention again.

“Ms. Schemmenti and I are married; have been for three years,” you chuckle. “Yes, Sweet Cheeks comes home with us over the summers. Sometimes we go out for dinner, but mostly we just stay in and cook. Our house has a front porch with a garden in the back. No, we don’t usually come to work together.”

“H-how?!” one of the kids stammers out.

You go to say more, but your wife just holds up a hand to signal them to stop bombarding the two of you with questions. “My little eagles, we have to get back to our classroom if we want to get to dismissal on time. So, line up. C’mon.”

Dismissal is much more hectic than usual. You’re standing outside at your duty while Melissa sees that all of her students get to the right places, and word travels fast. You have students and their parents coming up to the both of you praising you for ‘having the courage’ to come out. Others can’t believe that the hard ass and the personification of sunshine are married. But almost everybody is smiles at the confirmation that the two of you are a happy couple.

Well, all except that one parent. She comes up, guns a-blazing to you. She begins to scream in your face, calling you all sorts of derogatory names. She’s… you’re becoming increasingly nervous.

Thankfully, Melissa is able to dismiss the rest of her students and comes to your rescue. So does Ava. While Ava tries to get her to walk away without causing any more of a scene than what was already created, your wife is pissed.

“You can talk to me however you want,” Melissa hisses at the woman, pointing a finger in the woman’s face. “You can say whatever the hell you want about me. But you do not speak to my wife like that. Nope, and if you keep goin’… you don’t know who you’re-”

“Lis,” you tug her back by the arm gently. “Just… let her go. Ava will handle it.”

She shoots you an incredulous look. How are you so calm about this? But because you give her a look that tells her it’s not worth it, she backs down. She continues to glare at the woman as she’s pulled away by another parent and the principal. 

The redhead just wraps an arm around you, holding you close for the rest of dismissal. She doesn’t care anymore- the entire school knows that the two of you are together at this point. And if they didn’t witness the events that had just taken place, the two of you know word travels fast in this school- everyone would know by tomorrow morning anyway.

One more parent approaches you with their child, and Melissa looks like she’s ready to fight if someone else says one more negative thing about your relationship.

“I- I saw what happened,” the mother states quietly. “And I just want you to know… she’s on her own in that mindset. The rest of us are quite happy to have the two of you at Abbott, your relationship aside. And, if the two of you are happy, that’s nobody’s business but your own.”

You give this mother a soft smile and a thank you for her words.

After dismissal, you don’t go into the staff lounge to grab your lunch bag- you’ll wait to get it tomorrow. No. You just want to go home and relax after the last hour of your day. Melissa texts you to let you know that she doesn’t plan on sticking around today either- she’ll meet you at home as soon as she can. So, you quietly slip out of the school once teacher hours are over.

At home, you’re just pouring two glasses of wine as your wife comes in and kicks off her shoes. Her arms are instantly around your waist and kissing you softly. You giggle in her hold.

“Hey, babe,” you smile against her lips.

She just kisses you again, murmuring, “My beautiful wife.”

“Do you want to talk about today?” you ask as you pull away and offer her the wine glass meant for her.

Where you think the redhead is going to go back to raging, she just shrugs. “Ava already pulled me aside and told me that she has our backs. She ain’t gonna let this parent ruin it all- somehow she’s already in the process of moving the kid to Janine’s class, as much as I’ll hate to see Lay out of my class.”

“It’s probably for the best,” you sigh quietly.

Melissa nods with a frown. “And instead of taking art, she’ll go with the gym teacher twice a cycle… Mom’s a real homophobe and doesn’t want us ‘rubbing in the gay’. Whatever the hell that means.”

You roll your eyes. “A real piece of work.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.”

“Well?” you ask as you take a sip of your own wine. “How do you feel about us being out at school?”

“It was only a matter of time,” your wife tells you with a small shrug and a smile. “I don’ care if everyone knows, although I’m not looking forward to the line of questioning I’ll get from Pipsqueak and her sidekick tomorrow morning.”

“Why don’t we go into work together tomorrow, and I’ll help you out with that?” you tease.

“You’d wake up early for me?”

“You know I would,” you chuckle.

The next morning, Melissa drives the two of you to your place of work, and you walk into the staff lounge hand in hand. Almost immediately, her work crew- aside from Barbara- are bombarding you with questions.

You do everything you can to answer them, until Jacob asks, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Melissa just smirks. “Youse didn’t ask. Had you, I would’ve told you I was happily married to Y/N three years ago. It’s not like I deny that I’m in love with her.”

TAGS: (and let me know if you want to be added!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch

[cerastes]

I still think it's really cool how Amuro starts as the shittiest pilot alive (because he's a 15-year old) that only gets carried because he's in the biggest, fattest stat stick in-universe at the time (a few retroactive additions made in the future notwithstanding), enough that even its crappy vulcan guns are tearing Zaku IIs apart, and when he starts getting a bit too cocky, Char and Ramba Ral show up in objectively inferior pieces of junk and absolutely deliver his pizza, they just drag his face across every available surface in Planet Earth like he's a Yakuza mook, all because they are simply that much better at piloting, and the thing is, Amuro takes that very seriously.

He goes from shitass kid in an unfortunate situation that doesn't want to get in the robot to the most unwell child soldier in the war, which is really saying something, but most importantly, becomes so good at piloting the Gundam that the Gundam physically cannot handle Amuro's piloting. They need to apply "Magnetic Coating" to its joints so they don't fucking snap away from the main frame because Amuro, one, moves too damn well but also in too extreme a way for the frame to handle it, two, despite being equipped with two sabers, a shield, a beam rifle and vulcan guns, Amuro is a stern believer in introducing most everyone in thagomizer range to his Rated Z for Zeon hands, the single most official pair of hands in the business, tax free. He KEEP going Ip Man on these dudes, he does NOT need to do a Jamestown on these mother fuckers but he INSISTS. Somehow even the Gundam Hammer, which is a giant Hannah Barbera cartoon flail-- Ok, look at this thing, words do not do it justice

Even this god damn Tom and Jerry prop is less savage that whatever Amuro decides to do the moment he's done throwing his shield to get a free kill on someone and it officially becomes bed time forever for the unfortunate sap at the business end of his ten-finger weapons of mass destruction.

The RX-78-2, "Gundam" for its friends and family, even has a top of the line cutting edge Learning Computer that 'learns' alongside the pilot and their habits. This data extracted from it was so absolutely fucked up that it completely revolutionized Mobile Suit combat afterwards, which is a wholesome thing to think about when The Best Combat Data Ever came from a really angry, really stressed 15 year old that doesn't even like piloting. He was 15! He made Haro with his own hands! Amuro literally just wanted to make funny cute spherical robofriends! Amuro was out there trying to make Kirby real, but fate had other plans for him. His cloned brain put in a pilot seat is one of the setting's strongest 'pilots'.

They made fucking Shadow the Hedgehog with his brain, god damn.

By the end, Zeon is rolling out Gelgoogs out of its mass production lines. These things are in the Gundam's ballpark in terms of overall specs (or "power level"). Amuro is bodying them as if they were episode 1 Zaku IIs.

AND THEN HE GETS FUCKING PSYCHIC SPACE POWERS. Not that he needed them, he bodied a couple Space Psychics without any of those powers before awakening to them. But heaven's most violent child was not done evolving, whether he liked it or not.

Char bodied him in a souped up Zaku II at the start, a machine objectively inferior to the Gundam. Amuro more or less one-sidedly beats the shit out of Char when he's in a custom Commander-type Gelgoog that you could consider to be equal spec-wise to the Gundam. Amuro is the embodiment of Finding Out. He is Consequences. You tell him he better make it hurt, better make it count, better kill you in one shot, buddy, he needs half a fucking shot. The complete transformation. One could consider the central 75% of the show as long drawn out training montage turning a kid into the Geese Howard of giant robots.

[teastainedprose]

Too Sweet - Ch. 1 (Cooper Howard x Reader)

A settler selling wares in Filly catches The Ghoul's eye. Inspired by a Tumblr post asking for an angst fic to Hozier's Too Sweet. 1,753 words | [AO3] No warnings yet, only innocent flirting. Banner from @eupheme

The first time he spots you, Cooper thinks nothing of it. Sure, you look a little less worn down compared to the usual rabble roaming Filly. Certainly scrubbed a little cleaner than most but so were the rest of your companions. The lot of you are a curiosity for sure, but he's seen plenty of attractive women over the ages and known a handful carnally. He's not the sort of man to let a pretty face distract him. No, you don't get a second glance from the ghoul as he goes about his business. 

It's not until your laughter catches Cooper by the ear that he starts paying attention. Jerks his head right round at the sunny sound, attention diverting from the bounty board as he watches you engage with a customer. You laugh again, a merry delight that lights your face right up while the elderly woman you're chatting with laughs along. She's made brighter for being so close to you while you've suddenly become the sun in Cooper's eyes. A brightness he has to squint at when he looks over again to drink you in. His long-dead heart decides that it's about time to do a little flip.

That's a sensation he's not keen on feeling. Cooper hums under his breath, frown settling on his worn lips. He tugs the brim of his hat lower, turning away as he tries to focus on the task at hand. No good can come of fancying any sort of infatuation on a smoothie like you. You're not the sort of creature deserving of the trouble he could bring.

Yet Cooper finds he can't quite help himself. Wasteland life is full of little pleasures and looking at you sure counts as a bit of pleasure. Why not indulge?

The rest of the day as he sits waiting for a client to show, his eyes flicker over you. Wherever you're from, it's certainly kinder to you than what most folks in the Wasteland see. You almost look as soft as some fresh-faced Vaultie, but he can see that your hands are well-worn as you exchange produce for caps. A farmer of sorts. Homesteader.

He listens with a keener ear to the gossip swirling about you and those in your group. A little settler band situated out east, closer to the mountains and closer to what manages to grow green. He picks up that your lot wanders in every few weeks with produce to sell, or trade to stock up the settlement the collective group runs. 

Idly, he wonders what horseshit sort of ideology your commune might be sunk into, but if you're looking to spread a new sort of gospel none of your ilk seem keen on sharing it here. You're a welcome addition to the economy of Filly and it's clear that many enjoy the taste of hope this band of settlers bring in with their harvest. Cooper figures that's indoctrination enough from the harsh reality the Wasteland offers up.

Cooper finds himself wandering over to Ma June's place under the pretense of stocking up on supplies. There's suspicion in her eyes as he drops his intended purchases onto the counter but that's not out of the ordinary. There's always suspicion in the looks Ma June gives him, but she'll take his caps all the same.

"Say, now what's with that group of lil' farmers hauling in their produce like that? Can't imagine those soft-lookin' sorts making their way all the way here unmolested," he drawls out. His smile is crooked as Cooper counts through his caps to pay.

"Settlers, but the well-armed sort. No point in trifling with them. Too well-liked here for their fresh food supply they haul in," Ma June pulls the caps towards her, gaze fixed on the ghoul as she mutters. "They'll trade with ya, but keep out of their business. Ya hear?"

A hum escapes Cooper as he considers this, leaning onto the counter while glancing out the dusty window towards where you stand at the stall. He casually stashes his purchases into his saddlebag while going on conversationally.  "Well- Is that so? They a regular sort of fixture here in Filly now?"

"Have been setting up that stall going on half a year now. Surprised you've yet to come across 'em. Best cherry tomatoes you'll find in the Wasteland." Ma June eases back, arms crossing over her chest as a sour look settles in place on her worn face.

Another speculative hum escapes Cooper as he digests this information before he tips his hat to Ma June and goes on his way. Which happens to lead him straight to your stall.

Once there, Cooper casually plucks up potatoes, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and okra. All of it looks as vegetables should, the sort he would have found at the grocery store before everything went to shit. 

"How much for this lot?" He sets the small bounty atop the open space on the stall. Cooper gives you his Hollywood smile that would charm the pants off of any woman in bygone days, except now his face is a leathery wreck and his teeth are yellowed with age. Most people instantly flinch away in disgust.

Not you.

You smile like the morning sun towards him as you step closer while dusting your hands off on your pants. The bit of dirt smeared on your face only seems to enhance your features in Cooper's eyes. The look you give him is almost shy once you meet his gaze, smiling warmly up to him. 

Cooper finds that curious. He's familiar with a scowl or grimace of disgust when anyone looks him in the face, but here you are gracing him with an easy smile. A customer is a customer, he figures, and he'll do well enough. Yet, your friendliness doesn't feel like an act. Even after all these years, Cooper Howard still can clock other actors.

"Fifteen caps for the whole lot, but I'll throw in an extra sweet potato for the smile." You wink. Wink right at him as your smile grows. "They're good for ya, handsome." You add casually, the smile tugging up further into a cheeky grin. Your expression shifts. Playful. Coy. Interested.

Ain't that something? Cooper doesn't falter at the full force of your attention. He's too old and worn for that, but he sure does grin right back with a twinkle in his eye. Even an old ghoul like him can enjoy a pretty thing like you openly flirting with him.

Now that he’s heard it, Cooper decides your voice is sweet as a silver bell. The sort of soothing tone that reminds him of rain softly pelting a windowpane. It's the sort of sound that makes him wish to stay and listen for a while, tucked into the warmth that he suddenly wants you to offer up. He wants to get you talking to hear more. Wonders how he can coax you into a conversation.

That’s a fucking stupid idea. Cooper mentally shakes himself free of the passing fancy, head tilting ever so slightly as he peers down at you from the shadow of his hat. "Mhm. Ain't trying to get me hooked now are you, sweetheart?

"Something like that." 

“Well now, reckon vegetables ain’t the worst sort of vice a man can get lost in.” Cooper still can’t help himself. He lets his eyes wander right down your body before flicking back up to your face, what sort of vice he’s pondering made clear.

That flush on your cheeks blooms all the hotter as you laugh for him, the sound an utter delight when directed his way. You smile, sweet and shy now as you pluck up a hefty sweet potato to set beside the rest of his purchases. 

“Oh, well-” You start, stop with a small shake of your head as you smile all the wider. Utterly disarmed.

Cooper counts out the requested coin with a speculative hum, mirth sparking in his eyes as it seems he’s rendered you speechless. It’s down-right adorable if he’s being honest with himself. You’re a right little temptation he’d like to play with further. A dangerous thought.

Setting the coins onto the counter, he's swift in sweeping up his new bounty and stowing it all away into a pouch within his saddle bag. This close you're too bright and Cooper knows he's in trouble. Best to break away before you pull him into your orbit in full.

“You take care of yourself now, sweetheart,” Cooper drawls. He tips his hat towards you and turns away with spurs clicking. You watch him go, cheeks still flaming.

You know who he is. The Ghoul, the most famous Bounty Hunter the radiated Wastelands has to offer. You've heard all the rumors and truer tales about him all your life but nothing could prepare you for seeing him in the flesh. A dangerous sort of creature. A man who always brings his bounty in. 

You'd been watching him all day, stealing glances as you work. Now that you've seen him up close and personal? You're down-right fascinated. He’s nothing like the monster the stories painted him out to be. At least, he certainly wasn’t monstrous to you. There’s something captivating about him. Charming, even. 

You’ve seen ghouls before, of course. You know their kind as some live on the settlement with you. The majority end up shambling and ungainly, limbs no longer listening as the radiation rot wars with their regeneration abilities. A confusion that makes most of them uncoordinated and awkward in their transformed bodies, but The Ghoul? He’s got a swagger to his step that reminds you of those cowboys you’ve seen on ancient holotapes. 

He’s been lurking at the edge of your awareness all day, your head cocking in his direction to listen to the cadence of his voice as he bartered for bullets and talked business outside of the bar over yonder.

A thrill had jolted through you the moment he started to move towards your stall. The nervous energy thrumming through you had been made all the worse when you met The Ghoul’s gaze for the first time. A woman could find herself lost in such eyes and you’d certainly tripped right into them. Boldly meeting this stranger’s gaze and enjoying every second his attention was on you.

Shame he left so quickly. You sigh, turning back to count out bottlecaps he’d left as you turn your attention back to work. Best not to think about it. You’re unlikely to see that legend ever again.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: this one's a bit shorter, next one will have smut, i am so fcking sleepy writing this i'll have to check tomorrow it this isn't a hallucination

Warnings: Horny Violence, Blood and Guts, Suggestive Themes, we're on a steady route to pound town

Summary: Cooper catches his prize, but an uninvited guest puts a strain on an already rocky relationship. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 1

You must be a Vault Dweller. Truly. There is no other way to explain the utter lack of self-preservation skills.

Cooper finds you almost immediately after the sun sets. He can see the flickering light of your small bonfire through the trees, and languidly, he stalks forwards, opting to stay in the shadows to observe you a moment longer. 

You're sitting on the ground, back leaning against a destroyed carcass of a plane. Hair pushed out of your face, Cooper can see the flames illuminating your focused expression with warm light. Once again, he's struck by this seemingly regal air around you. Like you've been raised in a castle, far from this fucked up place, that is now his home. A princess, stuck in harsh reality. Eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip tucked hard between your teeth, you seem to be pondering over something.

With quick motions, you take your messenger bag, opening it and dumping its contents onto the ground in front of you. It's somewhat hard to see, but the sound of small glass bottles knocking into each other is telling enough. 

Taking stock of your inventory, you begin to tuck everything back into the bag. Chems upon chems, RadAway, RadX, quite the little drug library, and Cooper's eyes immediately lock onto his most sought after, amber liquid. Why would a Smoothie like you need any of that stuff is beyond him. He hasn't seen any Ghouls in the small town you hail from. 

Perks of the job, he thinks to himself, as you stack away at least five vials.

At the last bottle, you hesitate, bringing it up towards the light, and looking at it with a worried expression. The liquid swirls inside, and Cooper watches from the shadows, as you press the cold glass against your forehead in a motion eerily reminding him of a prayer. Your shoulders shudder, and Cooper's mangled ears strain, as he sees your mouth move.

- Let me be brave - you whisper to the vial, like some ancient spell, and something new tightens in his chest, something he immediately brushes away.

Then, he sees you lift a very familiar piece of equipment, putting it on your wrist, and begin to tweak something in the controls. A Pip-Boy. Old and battered, but apparently still working. All his confusing feelings are wiped clean in an instant. Now, he's truly intrigued. The clasps seem slightly too big for your hand, and the device slides the length of your arm, as you move. 

You sigh, heavily, then press something, and the Geiger meter clicks to life, picking up on stray radiation. Cooper feels his muscles tense, knowing all too well, why the device has activated so rapidly. As a Ghoul, he leaves a trail of radiation, that follows him wherever he goes. He wasn't particularly aware, that a Pip-Boy could pick up on it, but he wasn't surprised either.

 The sound makes you freeze in your spot. Slowly, you scan the area, your hand extended towards the darkening outline of the surrounding trees. As your hand passes by the place Cooper has chosen as his hiding spot, the meter grows louder. 

Jumping to your feet, you raise the blasted thing in front of you, your other hand tugging at the waistband of your skirt, freeing your trusted kitchen knife. As if to double-check, you put your hand somewhere to the back, listening to the quiet cracking noise. 

You can't fully confirm your suspicions on time, as Cooper springs to action. 

A thick line of rope falls over your shoulders, and before you have the chance to react, the loop around you tightens. Your entire body is tugged with surprising force in the direction of the treeline. Loosing your footing, you collapse onto the damp forest floor, chin scraping in the process. The yelp of shock tearing out of your throat, rings through the surrounding area, before you literally, eat dirt. The force of the impact wrenches the knife from your hand, as it bends at an uncomfortable angle. The weapon lands somewhere in the grass, the blade reflecting the flames.

Wiggling like a worm, trying to free yourself from the bounds, you notice a pair of well-worn shoes entering your vision. They cross the remaining distance, stopping just short of your head. Knees crack as your attacker squats down, before taking your hair into a hard grip and lifting your head from the dirt. 

Your face twists in pain, neck craning uncomfortably, and with an overwhelming feeling of finality, your eyes land onto the face of a ghoul. The Ghoul. He turns his head slightly to the side with the meanes of grins, before letting go of your hair, your head falling back into the dirt. 

- Oh, motherfucker - you groan, pulling your legs up, and attempting to get up.

- Stay down - the Ghoul's voice is rough and biting, and sudden pressure on your back pins you to the ground. - Do you know how fuckin' stupid it is, to light a fire in the wilderness? Any unsightly character could pick you off in seconds. 

Spitting out stray clumps of earth and grass from your mouth, you scoff at his scolding tone.

- Thankfully, there are no unsightly characters here, huh? 

- Oh, I wouldn't say that, sweetheart. - the bounty hunter tugs the toe of his shoe under your side, and kicks up, turning your body.

You roll onto your back, throwing a nasty look at the Ghoul, as he secures the loop of his lasso. His eyes reflect the light in the most haunting of ways, and you squirm under his gaze, which drags itself across your body, stopping briefly at the tips of your breasts, peaking from under your shirt. Swallowing thickly, your muscles relax, in hopes of loosening the rope. It barely gives, but your limbs recover some wiggle room. 

Cooper blinks, his head jerking to the side, and only as he brings his hand up, do you register the gun in his hand. Making sure you can see it, he turns towards your messenger bag, grabbing it from the ground where you left it. 

He sits down, somewhere outside your field of vision, and you risk pulling yourself up into a sitting position. He doesn't seem to mind it now, too busy with rummaging through your belongings. Finally, he pulls out a vial of amber liquid, watching it swirl in the flickering light of the bonfire. 

- Now - Cooper starts, as he grabs the inhaler from his pocket, inserting the vial into it - Why would a backwoods healer have something like this on 'er?

Rolling your shoulders ever so slightly, the rope slides further down your arms, and you regard the Ghoul with a venomous rendition of a "are you fucking dumb?" look. Which he doesn't appreciate. His hands tremble, as he closes his mouth over the inhaler, taking a long hit, draining the entire vial. You try very hard, not to notice the low moan flowing out of him, as the drug enters his system. Or the way his eyes flutter blissfully for just a second. 

- You never know, who might be needing help... - you mutter, wincing at the biting pain in your limbs.

- Well ain't that considerate of you - he coughs into his gloved hand, before sighing deeply, his head reclining back against the plane's exterior, his eyes closed.

From where you're sitting, he looks weirdly handsome. Rugged and very much Ghoul-like, but handsome nonetheless. The skin of his neck is pulled taunt, and in the flickering light of a dying bonfire, you can see a myriad of scars, littering any surface of his skin that's visible. Still, there were other matters at hand, that needed your attention, and you try to shift in your seat as quietly as possible, slowly but surely sliding the rope down your body. 

- Next time you try to run away, I'll shoot you - your efforts are stilled by his warning tone, and by the way he waves his gun at you, you know he'll make good on this promise.

- Thought you needed me in good condition.

To that, he finally throws you a look from under his cowboy hat. 

- Good... - he confirms, his other hand slowly shortening the length of the rope connecting the both of you - Ain't the same as mint. 

The loop suddenly digs further into your flesh, and you grunt at the uncomfortable feeling of the rough rope scratching at your exposed upper arms. 

Unfortunately, he's right. During your time as the local healer, you've done many questionable things to ensure the well-being of the town. One of those things, was dealing with organ harvesters. You've only bought a limb or a finger, every once in a while, as if that was some consolation for your darkened soul. Those moments quickly taught you, that something being good was most certainly not the same as ideal. Or mint, as your captor has supplied. 

- You a Vault-Dweller? - the Ghoul finally asks, breaking the small spell of silence between you.

The question doesn't surprise you, and you lift the Pip-Boy as far up, as the lasso allows you. Which isn't a lot. 

- Nah - the flames dance on your suddenly melancholic expression, and Cooper drinks it all up, curiosity spiking with each new information - My mother was. She ran away from her Vault when she was a teenager and joined the Brotherhood soon after. 

- The Brotherhood doesn't recruit women - Cooper turns his body towards you, fishing for lies like a shark sniffing for blood. 

- Oh, it doesn't? - your lips pull back into a teasing smile, which perhaps isn't the smartest thing to do, but entertainment is scarce in the Wastelands, and you're determined to have some fun - She posed as a man for years, picked up a job as a medic.

Cooper hums to himself, inviting you to elaborate with an inclination of his head. 

- There, she met my father - you continue, looking over at the last glowing embers of the bonfire - They were discovered, court martialed for treason. They escaped together and had me somewhere along the way.

Your Pip-Boy still cracks, the radiation emanating from the Ghoul making the Geiger meter go haywire. With soft eyes, your hand traces the outline of the screen, watching the way green light dances on your fingers. 

- The forbidden love of the Wasteland - you sigh into the silence - Sounds like a title of some romance novel, no?

- Or a bad porno - Cooper grumbles, rolling his eyes.

- What's a porno?

His head snaps towards you in record speed, a myriad of emotions running through his mangled expression. It settles on deep annoyance, when he notices the sly smirk on your lips, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. 

- Gotcha - your attempt at finger guns is pathetic at best.

- Oh, you think you're a fucking comedian, huh? - the bounty hunter asks, a slight amused tint to his words, which you consider to be a small victory.

- That's why they put a bounty on me - you giggle - I'm too damned funny. 

- Shut it.

The sudden change in his tone catches you off guard, and you cock an eyebrow at him, confused. The Ghoul looks much more tense than seconds ago, his hand tightening around his gun. One of his legs kicks up a pile of dirt, smothering the dying embers of the bonfire, as he leans forward, seemingly ready to jump. 

- Had I known you were such a buzz kill...-

You're not allowed to finish, as the Ghoul basically throws himself in your direction. Your yelp is cut short with a piece of flimsy cloth being shoved into your mouth. A series of muffled sounds, vaguely resembling "is this my robe?" escape you, and the Ghoul pushed against your head, until you fall back down onto the ground. 

His body is hot against yours, as he covers you entirely with his weight. It's quite difficult to breathe through the makeshift gag and the overwhelming scent of blood, gunpowder, and the sickly sweet undertone of rot. As well as the unfamiliar feeling of having someone so close. You were a hermit after all. 

- I said, shut the fuck up - he whispers harshly into your ear, and you shiver underneath him, as his chest rises and falls against your back. 

Then, a sound somewhere close to the forest line makes your head whip in its direction. Cracking of twigs and heavy footsteps, coming closer and closer with clear determination. 

- Healer? - your entire body stiffens, as a familiar voice rings out through the trees. - Are you alright, Healer?

Benny. The same Benny, which led this damned bounty hunter right to your doorstep is currently making his merry way towards the both of you. Your eyes follow the way the Ghoul's thumb loads the pistol with a click of finality, and suddenly new energy floods your system.

- Stop fucking moving - Cooper grounds down on his teeth, as you attempt to free yourself from both his grip, and the lasso's.

Images of Benny, bloodied and dead, flash through your mind, and despite your lack of any sympathy towards the man, you don't want to see it. So, you start to move again, violently shaking under the Ghoul, forcing the lasso to slide from your body. Your hips jerk from the ground, bucking into him like a wild animal, and somewhere behind your ear, you can hear him suck in a sharp breath. Which you have no time to dwell upon. Your tongue fights against the fabric of your robe, and after a second you're able to spit it out.

- Don't shoot him - you plead feverishly, hands gripping the Ghoul's forearm - I'll talk to him, he'll leave. Just don't shoot him, please.

Cooper looks down at you, his eyes hard on your face, as he watches out for any signs of deceit. Then, he presses his lips into a thin line.

- Make it quick, or I'll pop his head clean off his shoulders. - southern accent floods every syllable, and were you not fighting to save a life (again), you would've blushed.

- Yes, thank you. I'll be quick. Thank you. - words spill out of you like a broken faucet, whispered into the space between your bodies, as the bounty hunter tugs off the loop of his lasso. 

You take a moment to steady yourself, as he drags you up with him, hand twisted into the front of your shirt. Still a little stunned, you allow him to manoeuvre you, turning your body in his grasp, until your back is pressed flush against his front. 

Strong arm sneaks over your shoulders, hand clasping around the column of your throat, while the other one waits just outside of your vision. The barrel of the gun rests between your shoulder and your neck, and the coolness of the metal causes a myriad of goosebumps to erupt across your skin. 

- I'm here Benny - you call out, praying to anything that would listen, that your plan would work - Come out, slowly. 

To his credit, Benny has always been quite good at following directions. There weren't many attributes about him either way, a bit dim in the head, a bit too heroic. 

And definitely a bit too quick to pull out a gun.

Which is what he does as soon as he sees your peculiar situation. The Ghoul drums his fingers against your pulse point, and Benny approaches, a simple shotgun in front of him.

- What the hell...?

- Benny, I need you to listen to me - your voice sounds way too panicked, and you swallow hard to fake some illusion of control over this situation - I need you to turn around, and leave.

- But, there's a Ghoul with a gun behind you, Healer.

You nearly jump out of your skin, when you feel the hot breath of your unwanted companion on the back of your neck. You can almost imagine his chapped lips, so close to your skin.

- Time's a tickin', sweetheart - he whispers, and your blood runs cold in your veins. 

- He's a - you swallow, mouth going dry in an instant - He's my friend. Who's getting very anxious with the trigger, Benny, so please, just go home. 

Deep down inside you know there is no scenario, where the farmer leaves alive. He signed his death warrant the moment he stepped out of the shadows, yet for some unknown reason, that just makes you fight against the odds harder. Call it dumb optimism, perhaps you're possessed by your mother's spirit. Or perhaps the chems have finally scrambled your brains for good. 

- He's not looking very friendly - Benny's gun sways slightly, as he tries to keep it raised, muscles evidently straining against the weight - He's the guy that shot Pete.

Oh for fucks sake, your whole body starts shaking at this point, heart thrumming in your chest like a moth batting against a lampshade. You can feel the Ghoul smirk against the skin of your shoulder, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. His thumb presses slightly into your pulse, feeling it run rampant against his finger. 

- Please - somehow you hope the desperation in your voice will be enough - Please, leave. Benny, please.

Benny looks between you and the Ghoul peaking over your trembling form. You can see his brain working overtime, scrunched eyebrows, smacking of the lips. You're only praying it's working in the right direction. Then, some idea flashes across his expression, and you know in the hollow of your stomach, that this is his end.

- If I save you, will you marry me? - he asks, looking at you with the utmost hopeful expression.

- ...what?

Confusion doesn't even fully register in your mind, as the deafening sound of a gun being fired nearly blows up your eardrums. At first you're not sure, what you're looking at. Where there used to be Benny, now there's a carcass, mangled and bloody. It's hard to figure out, where individual parts of his body are, some bones sticking out from the chunky mush. A spray of red falls onto your face like a morning mist, and the scent of iron and gunpowder is stunning your senses. 

You can't move. Eyes glued to what once used to Benny, you don't even notice, as the Ghoul removes himself from you, placing the lasso over your head and around your body. The loop is secured tightly, and the bounty hunter tugs on it a couple of times, just to test its durability. Then, lazily, he picks up your messenger bag, swinging it over his shoulder. 

- The first time he came to me for help, he tried to domesticate a rad roach - you mutter absentmindedly, not caring if your unwanted companion is hearing you - Wanted it to help with the farm work. I had to stitch half his left side. 

- Stupid life deserves a stupid death.

- You're a fucking monster - you spit out, the feeling of Benny's blood on your lips almost making you gag.

Apparently, the Ghoul takes offense to that, because almost instantly, he's in front of you, his hand gripping your throat, and pushing you hard against the metal plating of the destroyed plane. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, as your head knocks hard into the wall, pain barely registering under the confusion.

- I have been more than accommodating to you, little princess - the Ghoul snarls in your direction, but all you can focus on, is his other hand, grabbing your bruised chin - I've entertained your little medical escapade, I let you negotiate with that dimwit over there.

The warmth of his body suffocates you stronger than any hand around your throat. You can't decide on the color of his eyes, as they seem to shift between amber and green, and completely black. Your mouth opens just a smidge, as you try to defend yourself in any way, but before you can speak, the Ghoul shoves two gloved fingers into your mouth, silencing you in an instant. 

- I could be so much worse, darlin', and I don't think you would like that - his voice lowers itself barely above a whisper, and he watches your expression shift under his grip.

You can't help it, really, the way your body reacts to this rough manhandling. It's not like you could predict being pinned to a wall by a stranger would make your thighs press together. Cooper looks down. He smiles like a cat, that's just found the fattest of mice, when his eyes drag back up to your face. 

- Or perhaps you would - his knee presses against the middle of your thighs, just short of forcing them apart, and you gasp around his fingers.

As if nothing has happened, he pulls away, so suddenly, you nearly fall over. His gloved hand glistens with your saliva, and gracefully, he wipes it clean on your shirt. Blushed, panting, and very angry at this turn of events, you stare daggers at him, as he tugs at the lasso, forcing you to start moving.  

- What is your name? - you demand, blood running hot and defiant in your veins. 

Cooper stares for just a moment too long. The way you seem to bristle in rage, even though that farmer truly was stupid, and you know it too. He likes the way your eyes harden, the way your jaw sets, when you realize this is no longer fun and games. When you recognize, how dangerous he can be, how mean and ruthless. He'd be a fool not to admit it,  it makes him feel powerful, revered. 

And the undertone of humiliation running through the length of your spine is just such a delicious addition. Almost better than chems. Almost more addicting.

Lips tugging back into a nasty smirk, he appraises you with his gaze, surprised when your resolve seems to harden even more. 

- You, Healer - your title sounds wrong coming from his thin lips, worse than any other time you've heard it - Can call me "sir".

Something akin to disgust runs through your expression, and you turn away with a grumble. 

- Fat fucking chance.

[forever-rogue]

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

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

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

AN | I love this concept. Enjoy❤️

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

Warnings | language; mentions of canon typical violence

Word Count | 3.1k

Masterlist | Main 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Radroaches.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should get going, darlin’.”

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

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

“2296.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

And Cooper had turned his back on you.

Only to come back to rescue you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s that, sugar?”

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

[bountydroid]

Darlin’

pt 2

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (right now there is nothing romantic, maybe in the future I am undecided.)

Description: After being captured by some cowboys, reader ends up in front of a ghoul and fearing for her life.

Notes: This is awful I apologize in advance. Please let me know what you think. This is just setting it up for the real story.

I sighed as I stumbled behind my captors. I am not even sure how you ended up in this situation. One day I woke up next to my fire surrounded by three cowboys, smiling menacing at me. Next thing I know my hands are tied and I am being forced to follow them everywhere. I heard them talking about a "last bounty" and rolled my eyes. I know their type, there is never really a last bounty.

It was night-time as we made our way to the graveyard, I was so tense you shuffled stiffly behind their leader as he tugged on the rope connecting the two of you.

"He's the best bounty hunter there is." Their leader rambles on. To be honest, I wasn't listening.

"How do we know which grave?" One of his companions asked.

"Well, Slim we look for the fresh one." He responded. "Dom Pedro has our friend dug up once a year. Cuts some pieces off and then puts him right back in the ground."

"That's awful," I mumble.

The four of us stop in front of the graveyard and see a cross with two bags of Rad-X hung above it. "Bingo." Their leader says.

"Shit." Slim replies. "You are telling me the supreme badass we're looking for is a godforsaken mutant?"

"Are you really going to let out a ghoul?" I asked, exasperated by the whole ordeal.

"Have some respec'!" Their leader interrupted. "That is your prospective coworker you's talking about Slim. And our ticket to a big payoff. And you -" He said turning around to me, "You's better keep your mouth shut. Who knows what he does with little girls like you? I imagine we will let him do whatever he likes." He growled.

"I thought you said you knew this guy?" His other companion asked.

"I said I knew of him. My pop worked with him once." He shrugged.

"Your pop?" His companion asked breathlessly. "How long's this asshole been moulderin' in the ground?"

"How do we know he's not feral?" Slim asked, obviously afraid.

"That is why we brought our little friend." Their leader said as he pulled out a cage with a chicken in it from behind his poncho. "A feral ghoul can't abide a chicken. If he goes for her, we kill him."

"Just like that?" I asked dryly. I knew this band of idiots barely stood a chance, and that this was likely where I would die.

"Shut up," Slim said before he grabbed a shovel and started to big. "Should make the bitch dig." He said turning to his friend who just laughed in response.

Some time later they finally had dug up the coffin. It was surrounded by chains, obviously keeping something strong within. I couldn't help the chill that ran up my spine. I looked over at the chicken tied to a stake and couldn't help but wonder, am I bait too? Is that why they brought me here?

The three of them watched with bated breath as they opened the coffin from afar, but I couldn't stand to watch and just kept staring down at the chicken at my feet. Their leader gave the rope tied to the coffin one last tug and it finally swung open.

A ghoul stumbles out of the coffin, groaning and coughing and cracking his bones. He obviously hadn't been let out in a long time. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. If he truly wasn't feral, then there was a person in there.

"Well well well." The ghoul finally spoke. "Why is this an Amish production of The Count of Monte Cristo or… just the weirdest circle jerk i've ever been invited to?"

I couldn't help the snort that escaped my mouth. His attention was then brought to me as I stood mostly hidden behind the leader of the gang.

After a brief silence, the leader started laughing as well, obviously trying to diffuse the tension. "Welcome back. I'm Honcho. Now you don't even know us-"

"No." The ghoul interrupted. "I do not." His gaze then moved down to the chicken. He slowly approached as he licked his lips in anticipation.

The four of us moved back in fear as he picked up the chicken.

"Does that count?" Slim asked. "Should I shoot him?"

"Would you shut the fuck up," Honcho responded. "We-uh, we got a proposition for you." He said as he moved his attention back to the ghoul. "A bounty came down. A huge one. Enough to be a last score for me and whoever's with me. Yeah. Now, somebody made a run from the enclave." He said pulling out a sketch of the bounty and his furry friend.

"Now what makes you think I'd give a good goddamn about that?" The ghoul asked, obviously not interested in the bounty.

It ain't where he's running from I figured you'd be interested in." Honcho said confidently. "It's where he's running to. That witch Moldaver in California. That's where you from ain't it?" He smiled. "Originally I mean."

The ghoul stared him down for a moment. "Now, what the fuck would you know about where I'm from?"

I tried to swallow but my throat was so dry from fear that it was painful. I slowly took a step back from Honcho. I could feel that this was going to go bad quick.

"Well that don't sound like gratitude, do it, boys? Honcho responded with a sour tone in his voice. "How about we put you right back in that hole so Dom Pedro can have his fun with you for the next thirty years?"

The ghoul smirked as he looked between the 3 cowboys, amused with Honcho's confidence. "Well, I'll tell you what boys, whenever somebody says they're doing one last job, that usually means their heart's not in it. Probably never was." He said as he kneeled back down to the chicken. "But for me? Well, I do this shit for the love of the game."

It was barely a second before he had his lasso around Honcho, easily pulling him off his feet and throwing him across the graveyard. I stumbled behind him a couple of feet before the rope he was holding came loose and I fell to the ground. I stayed down and covered my head as I heard gunshots and the two boys falling to the ground. I slowly looked up at the ghoul who was staring down at me with a blank expression before turning his attention back to Honcho.

"You are right, friend, about one thing. This right here? Was your last job." The ghoul said while aiming his gun at the cowboy. "My paycheck wasn't quite what you expected, but, well you know what they say. Us cowpokes.."

"Wait! The girl! I brought her for you! Thought you might be hungry." Honcho mumbled around the rope in his mouth. I was barely able to understand him, but it looked like the ghoul did.

He stopped and turned around to look at me again. I stared back at him in horror, still on my stomach in the mud. "Well, that's no way to treat a lady." He smiled threateningly before turning back to his target, shooting the rope holding up his coffin, and watched as it dragged Honcho into the ground. "Us cowpokes, we take it as it comes." He finished.

Without a word he picked up his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and walked right past me.

I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I knew that I didn't want to be left alone. "Wait!" I said before I even knew what I was doing.

He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around to look at me.

"I'll die out here on my own," I whispered. "I could lead you to the bounty. There is information that the idiots didn't share with you. I could help."

At this, he turned to look at me and crouched in front of my kneeling body. "I know exactly where I am going darlin'." He responded. "I don't need your help."

"But I do!" I said as I gave him the best puppy dog eyes I could muster as I held up my still-bound wrists.

He scoffed before looking up at the sky. "No." He said before getting up and walking away.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Heart and Gentle People 3

Summary: It's been a couple of months since you've seen your ghoul. Neither of you expects to cross paths in the Mojave.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings. Some heavy putting and kissing here. Alcohol as well, i guess exhibitionist behavior?

Part 4 -> HERE

Freeside is one of the largest and relatively safest cities that Cooper has been to in his two hundred years on this cursed Earth. People still try to kill him, what's new, but this place has tall stone walls and well-meaning gangs that patrol the broken streets. The Kings make him huff and twist his lips as nostalgia hits him like a deathclaw.

The only bar in town is called The Atomic Wrangler, and Cooper castes his gazes across the bar and stage before he turns to the twins who own the establishment. They introduce themselves as Francsine and James Garrett, and Cooper tilts his hat in a greeting and orders a stiff drink.

Several hours later, he sits at a table, legs extended and pleasantly drunk as he laughs with the other patrons of the bar at the comedian on stage. He makes a sound of confusion when a shadow suddenly falls upon him, and then there is a smoothskin blocking his view. The curse that bubbles falls to the wayside when he looks up and realizes that it's not just any smoothskin. It was his.

You smile down at the Ghoul, that familiar amused quirk of your lips that Cooper hadn't realized he'd missed so much. So much had changed since the last time he had seen you, that this almost felt like meeting you for the first time all over again. Coop blinked up at you, jaw dropping as you step between his open legs, and proceeded to sit in his lap.

"Fancy meeting you here, cowpoke," you say, and despite his brain being soaked in alcohol, Cooper wasn't a complete fucking idiot. His hands find your hips and drag you close, manhandling you until you sit pressed flush to his front, your core already hot and pulsing with need. His cock throbs in his pants, and Coop bucks forward, a quiet sigh of pleasure escaping him at the friction.

"I'm too drunk for pillow talk, baby," the ghoul rumbles and his hands find your ass, massaging the globes harshly, and ruts up in a slow grind against your covered cunt. He finds your eyes, licks his teeth, and dives in to bite along the collom of your throat. He trails up your jaw and then your cheeks, lingering there as he hisses in your ear.

"Better get me outta here before I fuck you in front of all thae people. Give 'em a real show."

Your thighs quake at the dark promise, and you have to really think to yourself. Would anyone notice? Would anyone care?

Cooper watches your reaction, and a slow, evil grin creeps along his face. One hand leaves your ass and slides around, his thumb slipping between the apex of your legs and rubbing against your clothed clit. The pressure has you cursing quietly and falling forward, your face resting in the crook of the ghoul's neck. He laughs, rough and deep in your ear.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Darlin'. You'd want to show everyone in here just who you fuckin belong to."

You hiss through your teeth, already feeling like you're at the end of the rope. You hump against his hand, wanting to come so badly it hurts. Cooper goes back to sucking dark marks into your flesh, teeth nipping harshly, and it takes an embarrassingly quick time for you to tip over the edge.

Cooper swallows your whine with a kiss, shoving his tongue past your lips and tasting the nuka and rum you'd had earlier. He keeps you close as you come down from your high, kissing you until you have to push yourself away from him.

You already look fucked out, but Coop isn't nearly done with you, and tucks his arms under your ass and stands from his seat. He marches to the bar, where James hands him a key to the corner room upstairs without a word.

[bowieandqueen11]

Exchanging Pleasantries / Cooper Howard Imagine

Request: Could you please do hurt/comfort with The Ghoul? Like, maybe you got hurt during a fight with Raiders and he's being mean while stitching you up. Thanks pookie bookie ily

Omg bb @itsyellow ily too I couldn't wait to write this!! Hit me with that hurt/comfort that's my jam son

Also did I make this full of unresolved sexual tension? Frick yeah I did

As always, if you enjoyed please drop a comment to help me out and let me know!

Warning: slightly NSFW/ making out, mentions of injury and violence, slight mention of a choking kink? and some strong language!

(I do not own Fallout or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Y'know, you may be one of the stupidest goddamn people left on this planet. And I've seen a hell of a lotta stupid people.'

You know better to think that the one and only Ghoul: the slinking shadow that steadily tails and entraps every inch of the starkly barren world he can reach, the infamous bounty feared in every town, from Philly to Rivet City, would be one for pleasantries. Yet, even during your brief period travelling with the man across the wake of the formerly 'glorious' West-coast America, his callousness often left you wishing for the sweet silence of a Nuclear Winter.

Even Cooper Howard himself recognises the fact that he doesn't exactly, well, radiate off anything that could be called close to a succouring nature. Hell, he would be happy to radiate off anything that wouldn't have you spending his valuable time making detours to wandering doctors holed up in blood-splattered tents to use his hard-earned money in bartering for caps off your next bottle of Rad-X. He supposes, as you had shaken the bottle in front of his frowning face and wandered back off into the crowning desert sun, that if he could work himself back up to being unenthused, he would be able to count it as his first win in over two hundred years.

'Well, if you tried to stop fighting every single person still left out here I wouldn't have to risk my ass stupidly running in to save you', you retort, gnashing your teeth and trying your best not to squirm against his chest as he rips a fragment of broken plate from the back of your shoulder.

It wasn't often that you were allowed to light a fire in the wilds of the Wasteland: far too many radroach nibble bites littered your legs, far too many gash-covered tentacles slashes from the repulsive Centaurs marked your outer arms. However, as the two of you had spent your seemingly so lovely afternoon out on the highway being ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Raiders, you had browbeaten the Ghoul into allowing the two of you such a special treat. An empty bottle of Nuka Cola lies by your faded makeshift floor covering that acts as your mattress, and you sigh in relief as the warmth of the flames licks across your tired arms.

Your soon drawn out of your repose by the feel of The Ghoul's cowboy boots thumping against either side of your legs; he awkwardly tries to leave enough room that he's not straddling your back, but his legs won't quite dip down enough to be more than halfway off the floor.

It leaves him having to scrape himself forward until his groin is nearly pressed against your tailbone, and you can feel the hem of his hat brush up your neck as he idly surveys the extent of your injuries. As he fidgets the strap of your vest down past the joint of your shoulder, you have to breathe in sharply to stop yourself grunting at the sharp scratch of his glove's rough seams as he drags his hand down.

'You're right', he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, dragging a strip of musty cloth out of his satchel bag and pressing it against your oozing wound. 'Your ass really is fucking stupid if you think that you were helpin'.' You grimace as a flash of stimulation and mortification flashes through your body; whether the pain in your gut is from the flesh wounds or from the clutch of thick leather as the Ghoul tantalisingly rakes his fingers up the tender skin of your shoulder and grips, you're too distracted to try and find out.

Sweeping your eyes over the fire-brushed ground that cracked and and crumbled underneath your heel, you can understand his frustration at you. At the world. Scorch marks litter the dusty ground around your make-shift campsite, the plasma rifles and energy weapons the Fiends had managed to barter, steal, and smuggle out from the Van Graffs stock lying in blasted pieces around the fragments of rusted metal once shielding the long gone diesel pumps. The violence - the anger, it always seemed never ending. Gosh, what you wouldn't give for a canopy right now: to stop the sun burns from blistering your face, to hide the sudden hush of shame and embarrassment that rose flush up your face like a mushroom cloud.

'Yeah, well, I did come running- you're welcome, by the way-', you start, but the Ghoul, as venomous a man as he is, cuts short your reply by prodding the point of one of the needles holding the tail edge of his coat together into the hanging flaps of your skin. Your hand balls into a fist as you feel the sharp tip scrape over muscle; you try your best not to whimper as his poison slits through your veins and slithers down to corrode your very soul, but the relief. Oh, god, corruption has never felt so good as the Ghoul's free hand sliding down to cup your ribcage. His middle and ring finger took turns tapping against your waist, a slight huff coming from his mouth and tingling against the shell of your ear.

At first, you think the Ghoul is mad at you: pissed off that if any of the Raiders had survived and scampered off back to their chem-den to frenziedly retell their confrontation with a certain duster-clad gunslinger, a certain ruthless reputation - a certain long upheld persona, would be tarnished. That he was aggravated in having to waste his dwindling supply of bullets in wasting the spiky-hair fiend that had sprung out from the door of the thought abandoned Red Rocket Truck Stop just as you were busy body slamming his friend to the ground. That he was embittered at the fact that you had the incredibly anserine idea to stop off in the middle of goddamn nowhere: somewhere straight off your Pip-Boy map to nestle down for the night on your route to the New Vegas strip.

Enraged, indeed, by the fact that he may have to admit that he wanted to save your life.

'You call that running?', he puffs out a chuckle, unceremoniously wiping the blood of the needle by using the back of your vest. 'I call that leaping up yonder head over ass across that Nuka-Cola machine.' He lets go of your side, much to your disappoint, and looks at you disapprovingly as you turn around to face him. He's waving the syringe edge of a stimpak in your general direction, and you make sure to slap his hand extra hard as you grab it off him.

'You know, cowboy, you were the one that asked me to tag along. Not the other way round', you groan in exhilaration as you stab the needle into the knife wound on your thigh, and that first hit of the Stimpak courses through your muscle. Cooper has to clench his fingers into the leather of his fist to stop himself from going feral right there and then. He sniffs loudly, scrunching up his nose and casting his gaze to the fireside to try and hide his displeasure.

'Well', he manages to choke out between clenched teeth, gripping onto his own leg so harshly he wonders if he's drawn blood between his claws, 'you are such delightful company.'

For the first time in his life, Cooper Howard wants to just... ride away from his problems. That's all you were supposed to be: a solution. A resource. Another object to exploit, to foist upon his own callous needs so that he may survive another day in this merciless hell pit. A life for a hundred and fifty vials felt like a mighty fair trade in the disintegrating shit-show of post-apocalyptic commerce.

It had been easier that way, luring you away from the only small shack left among the rubble of the underground Subway Station that the Fiends hadn't left splattered with blotted rivers of crimson and half-mangled body parts. It had been so much simpler, as he had shoved the still fresh bodies of the murderers and cannibals off the side of the Metro escalator, that he was here to save you. That he had no knowledge of the bounty held over your head by the Enclave, or of the reasons that you had become so... acquainted with the New California Republic during your month long travels for the Crimson Caravan Company. As the door had groaned open, he was left pointing his pistol in your face: a towering penumbra, larger than life, that seemed to swallow every inch of swinging lamplight around your doorway in a veiled sinfulness. He had found it so much easier, as he peered down at your gloomy face and smirked as the unmistakable sound of a Ripper reared closer to his head, that he was here to be your saviour.

That's right. As he had offered you protection: a safe route away, a constant presence, your second shadow on your journey back to the Strip for only a measly few caps, he had found it so much easier to pretend that this wasn't personal. That the way you shook his hand hadn't made his skin prickle, hadn't been the first thing his nerves had alighted at since the last fading memory he had of caressing his wife. That the way you had strapped your leather armour pauldron around your left shoulder, and pulled up the hem of your trouser leg to strap a hidden knife to your calf didn't have him unconsciously dragging his tongue along the cracks of his bottom lip, and left him staring in bemusement. The incredulousness that had his eyes glazing over and the bottom of his stomach clenching as the two of you pried open the doors back up to the surface, and he had nonchalantly inquired as to who had... disposed of the Fiends before his arrival here. You had just shrugged, throwing a smirk at him from behind your shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth twitch up to mirror your reaction.

It had been so, so much easier to pretend that you were just another bounty. That you were the first person, since he had lost Janey in another life, that had made him feel something other than contempt. Or worse, nihility. Nothingness. Just a hodgepodge script of fabricated and fictional lines that he reeled off as if it were more than just second-nature; an amalgamation of everything hollow and horrid that he had spent so much of his long-lost life trying desperately to bury.

But Cooper knew better than anyone, that nothing, and no one, could stay buried forever.

And with every returned smile: every lingering brush of some Caravan Trader's fingers on your arm as they tried to sell you some over-priced snake oil, every repulsive simper of a NCR trooper as they tried to buy you a bottle of vodka during your rare stops at some remote barrack, had the rot he had constructed within his soul become that little bit more mutilating.

The silence between you is deafening. And so you do something really stupid: you decide to ask him about his dirt-stained outfit.

'So', you drawl, turning yourself around so your legs are crossed out by your side, doing your best to stay firmly seated between the tensing muscles of the Ghoul's thick thighs. He draws his spurs in a line across the sand, but to your astonishment, and wild delight, he doesn't pull his legs open any further. 'Did you rob a real cowboy or something? I didn't think they were real. The only ones we ever saw were those rugged, way too contrived looking ones on those old movies.'

Your fingers curl over the edges of his collar, tentatively letting your fingers drop to rest against the sharp gap against his breastbone.

A muscle in Cooper's jaw jumps.

Oh. Oh. You'd never seen him actually angry before, behind all that cowboy western shooter charade.

For a moment, you're worried you've offended him somehow; a faraway look seems to draw him into the pale billows that smoke up from the orange flames, and a look that you've never seen before- never could even contemplate drooping the face of the suddenly so haggard looking man sitting by your side flitted across his scrunching face.

Forlorn. He looked so forlorn.

Neither of you are sure if he's even conscious of his arm moving, snaking itself across the small of your back to clutch almost painfully against the meat of your hip. His thumb strokes against the outline of your bone: probing, testing, clawing and pinching as if he had repeated the action over and over and over again in his mind.

'This? This is as old as the dirt and the worms.'

He doesn't react, doesn't move the frozen stone of his stoic face when you hesitantly grip onto his fingers, and slowly... god, so slowly, pull his glove off and drop it on the ground. Suddenly feeling so exhausted, your droop your head down against the dried sweat on your neck and watch yourself place your hand gingerly over his own, holding him in a wary vice against your side.

'What... what's a worm', you tentatively ask, your eyes wide open in worry that your question might break the provisionary affinity of this moment.

Cooper actually... snorts, a smirk threatening to break across his face as he looks out of the corner of his eye at you. 'An 'ol creature that used to live under the soil.' His eyes burn a hole into your irises, and he finally cracks out in a sallow grin as he contemplates the fact that he has your whole, enraptured attention. 'In fact, almost a whole lot like you.'

You smack his shoulder, but he only tilts his head back with an inquisitive gloat on his lips. He tips his head down, moving his other free hand to grab and squeeze the other side of your waist, making you woefully buck back against the bottom button of his shirt as the pit of your bottom begins to thrum with a devastating heat.

'Now', you can hear the teasing in his voice as he dips his spine down to hover over the shell of your ear. 'The real question is, where in the sweet hell would you have seen such heinous films such as those?'

His hand crawls like sweet spiderwebs across to your bellybutton, taking your breath away as he cups his palm against your skin and carts you back till your resting against the side of his chin, entangling you against the last vestige of the man he's entombed within the Stygian shadows.

'My ma used to show them to me and my brother if we had been extra good. She spent a whole three months saving up whatever metal scraps she could scavenge to go trade over at the General Store in Goodsprings and buy ourselves a real life television. The picture was blurry as shit, and we only had one holotape that I swear I ended up being able to quote back to front by the time I was sick of watching it. But hell, if we didn't crowd around the floor in wonder and dream about being a mysterious, rifle swinging stranger that roamed around the wastes saving people.'

Cooper purses his lips, swallowing thickly as he lassos your words in a whirlwind around his mind. After what seems like an eternity of listening to the soft whistle blow through the cartilage of his nose, of noting the quiet scurry of Bark Scorpions barbing through the pale tufts of faraway brushes, and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribcage, each hit cracking your ribcage open with a sledgehammer, Cooper grumbles a reply.

'Y'know, there's an old saying back where I'm from - one that those folks in those movies you... respected use' to say. Feo, fuerte y formal. It means you're ugly, strong, and dignified. And shit, I can say for sure that you've got ugly ticked off that list.'

'You cheeky shit-', you start, but you can't help but shove your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from laughing. With a jolt forward over your stomach, you wince at the pain that flashes through your body at your only recently closed wounds. The Ghoul snarkily utters a tut tut, making you actually fucking whimper aloud this time when his hands grab your love handles, lifts you up, and slaps you down atop his lap. A faint slip from the curve of your buttocks sliding down to settle against his inner thigh has him hissing against the back of your head.

Even though there was no chance of it ever occurring, the Ghoul loosely clenched his fingers around your throat and tilted your head back until your throat went dry, as if daring you to move away from him again.

'Ain't your fault darlin'', he twangs out in that hoarse voice of his, his tongue flicking as smooth as molasses against the shell of your ear: his pointed edge darting a sticky trail up to your inner ear. 'It ain't your fault that you look like a molerat.'

You snort, and Cooper finds himself smiling at the sound of a noise he hasn't heard since his daughter was... since his daughter was...

'You remind me of someone I used to know, you know that? She was... she was far too sweet. Far too good for all this shit too.'

'Aha, there he is.' You wrestle out of his grasp and turn your head disbelievingly. The Ghoul looks almost taken aback, before he draws back into himself and fixes himself to stare you down. 'Finally making an appearance after all this time, are we? Good to see I'm finally getting through to you.'

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?', he bares his teeth, gnashing them together almost instinctively.

'I mean, I think that was as close to an honest exchange with the man inside you I'm ever going to have.'

That makes him start.

Pensively, he watches you, assessing and appraising the quirks and emotions that wander across your face as he waits for you to finish your accusation.

'And unless you stop sticking your blaster in the face of every creature that walks and talks, probably your last as well.'

The Ghoul swallows thickly, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner by the almost sinful way he's darting your eyes down to your lips and allowing them to hover there. 'Now darlin', I'm only exchanging pleasantries.'

'Is that really what you'd call yourself? And here I thought it was cantankerous.'

'Considering the literal crap-hole you grew up in I'm surprised you even know that word, now.'

'The sewers are empty, Cowboy - I'd say there's more piss on you from Dogmeat than down there. Besides, I lived in a Subway Station... asshole', you spit out at your feet, hitting the fragmented remains of one of your assailants helmet spikes.

A jab pokes at your inner thigh; the clenched thumb of the Ghoul branding into your skin as he finally looks you dead in the eyes with a cold stare. 'And there you are.'

And yet there's something. There's something lingering there, in the dark. In the swirl of his irises. In the only part of his body that still remains fully intact. Fully him. Something valorous. A convolution of steadfastness and pride. An imploringness.

'Suppose...', you inhale sharply, not realising that the two of you have managed to claw and scrape and crawl inch by inch closer to each other during your... showdown. 'Suppose', you buck your knees forward until you have enough leverage to haunch yourself up and turn, using the exertion to swivel yourself round and straddle the Ghoul's legs. Your gaze dips down to watch the purse of his strangled lips, his head slowly raising itself to unmask itself from the murk. 'That we aren't so different after all.'

Before you have time to regret your words, the stout pressure of clashing thumbs and fingers have jerked against your chin and pulled you down to smash against Cooper's mouth. Gnashing teeth pull at your bottom lip without a moment's warning, slicing down to draw blood. Cooper pulls back to snarl, before diving back in and licking away the thin trail of blood driplets that dribble down your chin dimple with the flat edge of his impoverished tongue.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly against your stomach ravishes you, growling as he reaches down to pull at the bottom of your thighs, and raise your knees up so he can cup your ass and knead the sweet flesh.

Part of you wants to rip his clothes off him right there and then, part of the recesses of your mind worries about the impending danger of the Wastelands: a roaming gang of looters, the unlucky shimmer that forewarns the arrival of a Nightstalker, but all of you wants to slam your hands around the side of this man's face and knock him straight to the ground with the ferocity of your kiss.

Before you can even make it past the squishing his cheeks phase, you’re distracted from your plan by the pressure point of his fingers teasingly prodding against the outline of your inseam. You can't enact your plan - you can't, not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh. Can feel the warm, almost ruinating nibble of his top teeth against the pulse point of your neck, before he leaves an apologetic slide of his inner lip against it: something bright and burning and beautiful making the nerves of his body scream as it gnaws away at their rot.

Perhaps, perhaps there was still time for the Ghoul to exhume the mouldering remains of Cooper Howard after all.

[usetheeauthor]

Kinktober Day 3: Brainwashing/Reprograming

Pre-War!Ghoul-ish!Cooper Howard x Reader

Summary: Cooper sure loves you; his little vaultie wife. Too bad you have no clue that you’re actually not the only two people left in the world.

Warnings: 18+ , non con mind control, implied age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, dub con kissing

A/N: I imagine Cooper in this in between his ghoul form and human form and the ghoul form is slowly corrupting his mind.

You don’t remember what life was like before “the blank” or the period in which your vault had been attacked. But by the time you came to, everyone in your vault was long gone. Dead? Alive? You aren’t sure. Not a single corpse or evidence of their existence has been recovered. All you remember was a bright flash of light and suddenly you were alone in the arms of a man you hardly knew.

He says he’s your husband who’s been searching for you for years. He says he loves you. That he’ll protect you. And you surely do believe those things but…something about him just feels like he’s hiding something. But all he’s gotta do is say a couple magic words and suddenly you don’t care to question him. Maybe you just love him all that much that nothing he’s hiding matters.

It is much better when you aren’t questioning things anyway. He’s much more affectionate when you don’t resist.

“Little wifey,” Cooper calls out as he comes through the doorway of the little pod home you shared. You rush into his arms, beautiful blue and white sundress flowing behind you. “There ya are, sugar. Missed me?”

“Of course, I did.” You say, holding him tight. “I was so lonely. Every time you walk out that door, I worry you’ll never come back and that I’ll be alone again.”

“Not a chance,” He says kissing you on the forehead. “I’ve searched all this way for ya darlin’. Nothing can keep me away from you. It’s just you and me against the world.”

“What’d you get this time?” You beam.

“I got you this purdy little necklace you can wear.” He holds up the chain with a small ruby pendant on it.

The souvenir looks familiar and the moment you touch it, flooding memories of a woman in authority washes over. You clutch your head in pain.

“You alright, darlin’?” Cooper asks. He touches your forehead with the back of his hand, checking the temperature.

“W-where’d you get this?” You ask fearfully while cowering away. “Why does it look so familiar? Like it belonged to someone I—ow!”

You hold your head once again, squatting as you buckle under the weight of your rapid thoughts. Cooper snaps his fingers and you instantly tense, looking up at him as your mind suddenly goes empty.

“Evergreen,” He says and your body loosens. It’s that magic word. The one that makes you feel at ease and then everything goes back to normal. But little did he know there’s a resistance within you this time, one that fights for you to seek the truth in your situation. “I’ll be putting this necklace around you, sugar. You’ll behave, won’t you?”

You nod mindlessly.

“Good girl,” He coos. “Up on ya feet.”

You obey, waiting on his next command. He does a spin gesture with his pointer finger and you oblige, back facing him. He pushes your hair out of the way, draping the necklace around your throat then clasping it closed.

“When I count to three and yours eyes are on mine again,” Cooper begins, whispering in your ear. “You’ll be my sweet little wifey again. 3…2…1.”

He snaps again. You blink rapidly looking around the room in confusion then down at your necklace with a smile. You spin on your heels to face him. “It’s beautiful, Coop!”

You kiss him and he cradles your face so gently in his large hands. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, sweet pea.” He smiles.

He’d been a little risky offering you something that could have easily reminded you of your overseer. That would have been two years of properly training you as his good girl down the drain, if he hadn’t thought quickly on his feet.

But he can tell you’re succumbing to his love slowly but surely . Soon there would be no remembering the past and no more questioning things. Just you and him as it should be.

You pull away from kissing his full lips, caressing a hand over the ghoulish half of his face. It looks as if it’s spreading more and more as the days go by. Cooper doesn’t show it much but he’s insecure about his fading human form and in the back of his mind he fears you’ll find him repulsive and leave. And sure he could just make you fall in love with just the snap of his fingers. But if there’s a chance you could love him naturally without all the extra steps, he’d be more than overjoyed.

His breath hitches when your lips delicately graze web-like textured skin, showering him in soft kisses.

“Could I go to the storage area for some cake? I’d like to have some before bed.” You say, fingers interlocked behind the back of his neck.

“Too much sugar ain’t enough for mine, I guess,” He chuckles. “Long as you come back to me, you can eat all the cake ya want.”

“Yes, my husband.” You say as the dutiful, doting wife you are. Satisfied with your answer, he releases you.

Once you’re out of his grasp, you quickly scurry out and try to locate your nearest exits. You’ve been planning this escape for a long time: training yourself to resist his words, drawing and mapping out the facility’s square footage whenever you could, and finally waiting for him to come home so you could sneak the key fob from his pockets.

There were just too many clues. The blood on his shirt despite not having any wounds and the items he gifted you from time to time; you two weren’t actually the only ones on earth and you needed to get away from this man or who knows what he plans to do to you.

You stumble upon a locked room somewhere down a dark corridor, darting your eyes around to ensure Cooper isn’t around. Breaking the handle with a nearby fire extinguisher, you enter what looks to be an office.

From the information you’ve gathered based on the scattered paperwork, you were one of the scientists of this specific vault. A vault specialized with retaining war information from former war veterans. You gasp once you stumble upon Cooper’s file and the missing pieces of your memory slowly assemble accordingly. Your vault has conducted inhumane experiments on him and the other veterans from injecting them with radiation to test the effects on them to brainwashing.

Things came to a head when Cooper Howard set out of a pressurized blast within the vault that knocked you out as you were the only one furthest away from the site while the remaining of your crew got completely vaporized. The vault opening allowed for the traumatized veterans to eventually escape though Cooper stayed behind.

“I-I was the monster,” You whisper to yourself, tears streaming from your eyes. “No…I am a monster.”

“You’re nothing of the sort, sweet pea.” Cooper says from behind you. “You couldn’t help what you’d done. You were only doing your job. I never wanted revenge when it came to you. I just wanted to show you real love.”

“Is that why you’ve been hiding this from me? You wanted to protect my feelings?” You cry into his arms.

“I can make it stop hurting, ya know. We can go back to being just you and me. Forget the world out there.” He whispers.

“I’d like that. Please make me forget.” You plead.

“Of course, darlin’. Anything for you.”

Cooper cups the back of your head, his biggest ring digging into your scalp as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips. He lowers you on your back against the desk behind you. You surrender happily, smiling into the kiss and feeling safe.

You’ll never again part from him and Cooper’s, oh so, glad that you finally understand this. Maybe he hadn’t told you the exact truth you were searching for but he’d set things up just nicely for you to feel as if it were that way. The room was staged. Everything was staged, in fact, and there were no such things as the veteran experiments. But you don’t need to know any of that. He wouldn’t even begin to tell you the crazy things he’d done just to have you. All you needed to know was that Cooper would do anything to ensure that you remain by his side.

And, well, if you didn’t stay beside him, luckily he’ll always have a way to track you down.

[ihaznoclue]

Could I request Ellen, Ben, Wise, Belle, and Grace with a reader who can sleep anywhere anytime?

Alrighty I am back from being not being well mentally and physically but I'm fine now I just had a massive headache from the heat on a school day, even my classmates (Mostly the girls) was worried about me ANYWHO!

Pairings -> Ellen Joe, Ben Bigger, Wise, Belle, Grace Howard x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Just reader sleeping anywhere at anytime

Genre -> Fluff

Ellen Joe

Twins

Literally twins on sleeping anywhere and at anytime

Like literally

You and her would be best sleeping buddies

Like you and her would sleep in the mansion, while cleaning, fighting, missions, anywhere!

Ellen likes that she has a similar person that sleeps like her at anytime

So she always seems to come with you as she knows that you would sleep at a random time while on a mission so she comes with you just in case

to protect and to sleep with you

I feel like this girl is a light sleeper so that's why she comes with you because I feel like she wakes up quickly after hearing noises that might sound like a threat or any danger

But you and her literally sleep buddies and no-one can tell me otherwise

Ben Bigger

This big guy would always know when you are about to fall asleep

Like I feel like hw would have a blanket, a pillow and other comfy stuff for you

He would even stay with you when you sleep which is so CUTE

Ben is the type of guy to protect you from Ethereal Creatures if you fell asleep during a mission or a fight

But in the end you are there waking up without a scratch on you while the poor guy has some injuries on his fur

but fear not you would tend those wounds and you and Ben will have a nap together

I BET HE IS SO SOFTT

like a pillow, you would lay on him while he snores which I bet he will

But you two (mostly Ben) deserves a well nap

Even though you mostly fall asleep every time and any time at anywhere

But Ben is glad you are getting sleep but is also worried for you for falling asleep a lot

But luckily this guy is there is protect you

Even when everyone is being loud

He would tell them to be quiet

Wise

Hmmmmm

I would feel like Wise is the type of guy to let this happen

But he would stay with you, like for example

If you are at his store and in his room upstairs and you would randomly fall asleep

He wouldn't mind as he would try to stay quiet while either working on his stuff on his computer or maybe read some stuff while he waits for you to wake up

Once you do he would say "Good morning sleepyhead" When it is night time

You would have some bed hair as he would fix it for you

But when you are out for a mission, he's bangboo is always going to make sure you are in a safe area to sleep

If you do he would stay by your side as the others would fight

Like I imagine his bangboo with a angry face as he spread his arm and legs out to shield you

CUTEE

But wise would be a good person to sleep with

Like he's quiet and he's very respectful for your personal bubble but when you want cuddles he would always cuddle you

And then you would be knocked out a few minutes after cuddling

Belle

This girl gives me the vibes of speaking too much to the point you would fall sleep

Then she would notice and then suddenly go quiet

And when she does, you would wake up and asked why she stopped talking

It's like her voice lullaby's you to sleep which she finds cute

She would obviously play with your hair while your head is on her lap

Her gentleness when she plays with your hair as she gives little humming tunes

You would wake to your hair either braided, in braided piggy tails or just out all messy from the bed hair

she would most definitely brush you that after you wake up

She just loves your hair, it always so soft and fluffy to play with

But sometimes she would fall asleep with you when playing with your hair

Grace Howard

She gives me vibes of night owl and that she goes to bed late

But she would always make sure you are in a safe place when you fall asleep so she can keep an eye on you

But when you two are on a mission she would protect you

Honestly she your shining knight while you are the sleeping beauty

But when you two are not in a hollow and she working in her little area for her babies aka machinery

She would always have a little corner for you to sleep whenever

There will always be pillows and blankets and your stuffed animals because why not

Grace is like always in mother mode when you walk off anywhere without her permission but she worry that you would sleep on the road or something like that

But she would always find you in the end somewhere in the work site asleep, either sitting up or slouching somewhere

She would always carry back to her work space and put you on her lap to caress your hair or face

Or she would put you back in your little napping area

-A<3

[finniestoncrane]

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 3k the night after cooper finds out about barb and vault tec he goes looking for something destructive to do. his plans were to get black out drunk, but then he finds you, and you're far more destructive 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: cheating/affair sort of (he's asked for a divorce but it is not official yet), hate fucking, hair pulling, angst, shame, rough sex

There was a brief moment where Cooper wondered if he actually wanted this. Any of it. A divorce. A reason for Barb to get angry back at him. But he'd already decided in his mind, even if his heart was a little bit behind. The second he had removed his ring, setting it on the dashboard as he gripped the steering wheel, he'd sealed his fate.

With a deep breath, he left the vehicle and made his way towards the entrance of the bar. An expensive place, one he could afford now but potentially not for much longer depending on how the alimony worked out. But for tonight, at least, he could afford to be Cooper Howard, the movie star. Buying rounds, sending drinks in lieu of actual flirting, letting his money speak for him. Hopefully, given the clientele, he might attract someone worth hating himself for.

Because that's what he was here for. Someone else. Someone to comfort him. He didn't want his friends. He didn't want Barb. He wanted someone he could pin his anger to, someone to do something reckless with. Someone that would help him to understand that his marriage was over. A misdeed that would secure his separation.

He couldn't burn the bridge alone. Someone else needed to be there to hold his hand.

As his palm pushed open the door he was assaulted by the noise, and then the smell. A cacophony of chattering, soundtracked by the loud and frenetic jazz coming from the band on the stage. A sniff of perfume, the assault of cigarette smoke, and a lingering hint of desperation. It bode well to know that there were others here in the same state of mind as he was. Despite having this in common, however, Cooper refused to mingle, at least not until he was sufficiently addled by a few drinks. So he walked past the crowds and the groups at tables, noting each person who turned to comment on his presence which was almost all of them, and pretending to ignore the loud remarks and gestures as he found himself a seat at the end of the bar.

The darkened corner suited him, a slightly hidden spot for him to search out his target, his prey. But distanced enough that people might not notice him, or at least they might leave him alone. He wasn't sure if he would back out of this yet, and the isolation gave him the option at least. Although, as the hour passed by, Cooper felt distinctly lonely, a little bit put out by the lack of attention he had received. Even the bartender, who Cooper was sure had the look of a man who enjoyed a good Western, hadn't recognised him.

So when he noticed you staring, an attempt to surreptitiously confirm who you thought he was, his heart thumped, pathetically grateful for the morsel of attention you were offering him. He held back though. Nothing, he reasoned, would stink of desperation like speaking first, confirming that he was indeed the Cooper Howard to someone who might not know who he was, but just happened to find him attractive. But you were equally nervous, afraid to say anything to someone so far above your station. An actual movie star, and one you'd harboured a crush on to boot.

He was alone, but maybe that's how he wanted to be. What would you say to him anyway? How would you approach him? What did you expect was going to happen? He was a married man, you knew that from his interviews.

But there was no ring on his finger.

Rumours of Hollywood sham marriages, attempts to hide sexualities or proclivities that were a little too out there for mass consumption, but Cooper had always seemed so in love with his wife. Maybe he was a greater actor than you thought. Or maybe you'd caught him at his most vulnerable. Either way, you weren't brave enough to make the move, so with a sheepish smile towards the bar tender, you lifted your drink and began to walk away.

Realising that he was missing his chance at the only person who had looked his way since he had sat down at the bar, Cooper spoke suddenly, not even aware that he'd begun speaking until he could hear his own voice.

"You know, that tastes a lot better neat."

As you turned you pressed on your best smile, watching it melt away into a lopsided grin as his own smile took your breath away. You made an attempt to push away the immediate anxiety you felt from knowing that Cooper Howard himself was addressing you and looked at your glass.

"Are you sure?"

He raised his hands, opening himself up to you.

"I swear, I wouldn't lie to you."

He spoke so softly, an instant relaxation warming you as his charm put you at ease.

"Here, let me buy you another. And this time, you can drink it the right way."

It felt a little bit like a power move, but the way he winked made you feel ok with it. It was playful, mischievous, and maybe just an excuse to talk to you. And it worked. Once you had your drink he offered you the seat next to him and for the next hour you found yourself talking to him effortlessly. There was something so easy about him, like he had enough confidence to share, enough pull and magnetism that you felt like you were the only two people in the world. But there was still something holding you back.

Even with the flirtatious back and forth, the little movements of his hand against your thigh, his eyes lingering on your lips as he spoke to you, there was a block there. And you decided it was worth asking.

"Ok then, Mr Howard. You said you wouldn't lie to me, so I have a question for you."

His soft brown eyes focused on your own, watching you with a calm smile as he nodded to you.

"What's with the tan line? No ring? Is this... what is this?"

It felt completely invasive, but at the same time, you knew you owed that much to yourself. And to his wife. And to Cooper. But the guilt settled in immediately as his smile turned into a pained expression. Cooper stayed silent for a minute, sipping his drink and avoiding eye contact. But eventually, with a deep sigh, he spoke.

"It's over. That's what it is.

"Oh, god... Cooper, I'm so sorry."

Your cheeks felt warm, embarrassment at your social faux pas spreading through you.

"If there's anything I can do..."

It took a moment for you to register your own movements, but when you realised your hand had fallen to his thigh you chose to wait for him to move it away. When he didn't, you let your fingers squeeze the limb, emphasising the meaning behind your words as if there had been any doubt as to what you were alluding to. You were braver now, three drinks in, and he had given you the go ahead to flirt throughout your conversation. With his permission, his consent, there wasn't much that could stop you now. Especially not when he finally spoke, drawing his eyes from your fingers to your own gaze.

"Well, now that you mention it..."

Cooper placed his hand over yours, his eyes boring into you. As you looked back into them you could see that they were sad, something glimmering behind them that told you how tired he was, how much he was aching. But beyond that, there was something pleading, begging you. He needed a little bit of attention, of something good to keep him going. So you grabbed his hand, fingers entwined together, and you pulled him out of the stool, waiting for him to toss down more than enough cash to settle his bill, and led him out of the bar.

Outside, Cooper began guiding you instead, tugging your hand towards his car.

"You're drunk, Mr Howard. I don't think you should be driving."

He stopped for a moment before stepping closer to you, his hands gliding around your waist and settling at your back as he pulled you into him.

"I agree, I can't drive. But I'm not drunk. I don't want you thinking that I don't know what we're doing here. I'm very aware. Are you?"

With a smile, you leaned in to kiss him, lips meeting his with a sharp inhale as you realised what you were doing. He was kissing you back, though, assuaging your concerns that you were overstepping his boundaries, or setting yourself up for embarrassment by thinking that someone like him would be interested in a stranger in a bar. As you pulled back, he grinned.

"I'll take that as a yes, then, shall I?"

You nodded, raising your hand and waving to one of the cabs in the rank outside of the bar and taking Cooper's arm as you walked towards the one at the front. Ever the gentleman, he remained polite and civil in the back of the cab. It was only a short distance, anyway, and the driver insisted on spending the journey telling Cooper how much he loved his last film, asking when he'd see him again on the big screens. And Cooper avoided any definitive answers, maintaining an air of gratitude despite the tell-tale expression of disappointment he wore on his face. Still, he tipped generously when they exited the cab, shrugging his shoulders at you as he opened your door and walked you up the steps to his apartment. He stopped at the front door though, pausing for a moment, as though he were reconsidering everything. And afraid that that was exactly what was happening, you took the opportunity when it presented itself, lunging into a kiss when he turned to speak to you.

It worked, knocking him back against the wall, silencing him from whatever he might have been about to say. Instead of hesitation, he was now focused on the moment, his hands tracing your sides, gripping at you as he caressed your body, exploring it, new and exciting. Only when he ran out of breath did his palms find your shoulders, pushing you off slightly, but keeping his fingers tensed so you couldn't get away.

"I assume that means you will join me for a drink inside?"

You barely managed to nod before he had grabbed you once more, his hand flung clumsily around your waist, free hand working his key into the door and fumbling with the knob. Once you were inside, he wrapped both arms around you, keeping you to him as he kicked the door closed and walked you to the bedroom. No drink. No sofa. No chit chat while he waited to loosen you up a bit more. Cooper wanted you to have your wits, to be able to consent to this. He didn't want to make this mistake any worse than it already was.

As you made your way to the bedroom, Cooper began grabbing at your clothes, pulling hard enough to let you know how desperate he was, but gentle enough that he wasn't about to ruin anything you had on. You tried to express your gratitude, to confirm your enthusiasm for what you were sure was coming next as his hands caressed you lips grazing over your neck hungrily, but you found it hard to catch his eyes.

In fact, since entering his apartment, you'd found it hard to make any eye contact with him, as if he was avoiding it for some reason.

And he was. Cooper was well aware of your efforts to catch his eye, knowing that it might provide you with some comfort but unable to afford it to you. He was too full of hate, angry at himself for going through with this, angrier still for wanting it, wanting you. If he stopped for a moment and let that feeling sink in, let your eyes see behind his and into his pained soul, then neither of you might have the stomach to continue. But he needed it. He needed to feel the heat of desire, the warmth of another person, the self-congratulatory pride of orgasm.

With his lips firmly pressed to your throat, tongue lapping out over your skin in intermittent flicks, he brought his hands to your waist and sat down, pulling you with him, resting you on top of his body as he sank into the mattress.

"You ok... with this?"

He sounded nervous, his voice quiet and low, almost shaking. It could have been excitement, perhaps anticipation of what you were about to do, but it felt like the unmistakeable shudder of fear that lingered below the deep tone of his words.

"Of course. Of course."

With that, he rolled you over onto your back, quickly settling himself on top of you. His eyes still avoided yours, but it wasn't bothering you all that much now that his hands were skating over your sides, his lips peppering gentle kisses over your exposed skin as he undressed you, his hands fumbling with his own shirt and pants until you were writhing together, entirely unclothed. The sweet sting of whisky on his breath, the dark musk of his nervous sweat mingling with your own scent as you became one on top of the sheets.

Each kiss felt almost deranged. Angry, passionate, hungry. Lips that dragged down over your skin, teeth that were bared, scraping over you. His fingers, ghosting over your chest, circling your nipples until he pinched at them softly, then firmer, releasing the grip only when you hissed, wincing slightly at the dull ache.

He was considerate. And that at least calmed some of your nerves as you considered what you were in for when he decided to start fucking you. You'd only managed to steal glances at his body, his firm chest, surprisingly toned abdomen, and the worryingly large, fully erect cock that pressed against you.

"You look nervous?"

He followed your gaze, glancing at his own length before giving you a slick smile.

"Don't think about it too much, it's not so bad. In fact..."

His fingers dug into your waist, rolling you over under him until you were on your stomach, legs spreading in anticipation of his cock. Cooper retrieved some moisturiser from the drawer at the side of the bed, not exactly a good substitute for lube, but you weren't about to question him. You waited patiently, instead, quiet except for the small mewl you gave as he pressed the tip of his dick between your folds and lowered his body onto yours.

With a soft roll of his lower body, he inserted more of himself into you, an immediate filling sensation dulling your other senses, your eyes half-lidded as you focused on letting him enter you as completely as he wanted to.

The gentle pace didn't last long, however. The moment he felt your walls cling to him, the feeling of his head hitting the furthest point in you, he begun to rut wildly. You were wincing in pain, moaning in pleasure, allowing yourself to be flattered by the fact that you felt so good that he was struggling to control himself.

But the animalistic way he had begun to pound you was less an expression of arousal and more out of anger. He was full of it. Anger for Barb for what she had done, for what she had made him do. Anger for himself, for stooping to this level, for not seeing the truth sooner. Anger for you, because you were letting him fuck his emotions into you, every aggressive thrust of his cock a little bit of relief from the pain and misery he felt, but only for the split second afterwards, because then it came back ten-fold. It was a vicious cycle, one he could get addicted to, pummelling himself into your open, willing cunt over and over, just to briefly rid himself of the feeling of loneliness and misery that surrounded him.

He ran his hand up your spine, tangling his fingers in your hair before he pulled your head back. Your body arched a little, raised off the mattress as you hissed in pain. He didn't let up though, in fact, as he saw his wedding ring glinting though the strands of hair wrapped around his fingers, he only got rougher.

Cooper's eyes drifted backwards, and when he pulled himself back to focus, he caught a glimpse of the photo of Barb on the dresser, a memento he'd taken from the house he once shared with her. Shifting his attention to something else, anything else, he found a spot of damp on the wall, yet another thing to add to the list of shit in his new apartment. He stared at it intensely as he rammed his hips into your body, pushing the rage and dissatisfaction out of him, letting it fill you instead.

That notion, the idea of getting rid of his bad feelings, of depositing them inside of you instead to keep them for him, had a profound effect on his psyche, an instant relief, and one that he felt physically too. His cum, warm, copious, drained inside of your welcoming cunt, walls painted white, inner thighs dripping in him as he pulled out and lay down on the bed with panting breaths.

When he rolled onto his side, you did the same, facing away from him, unsure of what he wanted you to do now. He hadn't asked you to leave, but he hadn't asked you to stay either.

You got your answer, however, when you'd moved away from him a little bit, trying to give him space, and he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back to him. It was so obvious to you that he wasn't sure what it was that he wanted, or what he needed, but whatever it was, you were grateful to have the opportunity to offer it to him.