#you have no idea how much time i spent searching for the images

[letterex-fyofm]

"(His) best possible partner," Yamaguchi Tadashi.

There are many reasons why I love Tsukishima and Yamaguchi together so much. It's all in the sentiment they carry. And I love seeing the interpretations people give to their relationship, so here I am sharing mine.

Aaa, how can I explain it?

It's all about the trust that Kei has in Tadashi, how he knew Tadashi would be able to make his service ace because "he has been practising serves the most." How Tadashi knew and never doubted that Kei would block Ushijima. And how they rely on each other in the court.

"A level-headed, disciplined shield...and its best possible partner, one that makes its decisions easy...a sharp spear."

Partnership is a recurrent motif in Haikyuu. We see it with Hinata and Kageyama, with Tobio being Shoyo's first real partner and being the person Tobio had been waiting for since he was a kid. We see it with Iwaizumi and Oikawa, who he couldn't be prouder to have as a partner. They are all seen as the best fit for each other, and this is no different for Kei and Tadashi.

It's important to remember how Tadashi was introduced. He literally was behind Tsukki, his face being in the corner of the screen, severely overshadowed by his friend. This, as everything in Haikyuu, is not there for the sake of it.

Tadashi and Kei are introduced as a pair, but there are a lot of questions about their friendship. It's obvious that Tsukishima is Yamaguchi's friend, but is Yamaguchi Tsukishima's? Does Tsukishima appreciate Yamaguchi? Is their relationship one-sided? If so, can it even be called a friendship?

Furudate emphasizes this in the CD drama of the first years walking home after the Shiratorizawa match. Kageyama says to Tadashi, and I quote, that at first, he "used to think that you were just Tsukishima's cheerleader." And, honestly, it really seems like it at first.

At first.

And then Tokyo Training Camp happens.

This is the first time that Yamaguchi is explicitly depicted as being ahead of Tsukki. And I think Tsukishima knows that too. In this panels, it really feels like Tsukki is alone for the first time. There's no Yamaguchi at his side, who was depicted as his sort of yes-man.

But there's something else in these panels that I would like to mention. Tadashi is described in the previous quote as Kei's best possible partner, and I think this explains why.

Tadashi doesn't stop himself from growing and evolving just because Tsukki is not ready to do so himself. And yet, he never doubts that Tsukki will do it. He tells him he will "see him at the top." Without any doubt in his mind. And Kei suddenly has this big expectation that he has to meet, but thinks he isn't able.

Level-headed. Rational, yeah, but there is a fine line with going from rational to pessimistic.

Luckily, he has his best possible partner ahead of him, but facing him face-to-face. The sharp spear who clears his mind:

And he does it again:

And again,

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request

Another chapter of Alley Boyfriends, if you don't mind, I love it so much. If not, no worries. I love your work and love to reread your stuff. May your food be filling and your bills be paid!

Danny carefully adds the finishing touches to the seahorse he’s carefully designing on the surface of Tim’s mug of coffee. He’s been practicing his latte art because business has been slow at Heart Attack in secret. The previous week, he had seen Tim watching videos of strangers creating works of art using the foams of their coffee with blatant awe.

The Halfa will admit to the sight of wonder on Tim’s face when the flashier artist created swans with colored foam, and his heart gave the oddest flutters. It had been so brief but intense that Danny had feared a new power was unlocking in their living room.

Thankfully, the moment passed quickly, but Tim’s expression lingered in his mind. Danny had abandoned the piano to search somehow for videos of latte art within the next minute of that strange heart flutter.  

Danny had learned how to play from Wes in an ill-fated attempt to get the ginger to date him. Danny hadn’t been able to get the ginger to be his boyfriend, but he learned a skill he enjoyed. His parents bought him a second-hand stage piano that he had used for the few years he lived with them.

It broke sometime in senior year- he thinks Young Blood had blasted him through it- and he hadn’t bothered getting a replacement. Mainly because he couldn’t be concerned, as it was a hobby he hadn’t time to participate in once he got close to graduation. It would have remained a forgotten past time had the apartment not come with the grand piano.

The sound was so much richer, with a resonating tone that bypassed his skin and sunk into his soul. Danny could not let the thing of beauty go to waste. He often found himself sitting on the bench, letting his fingers dance off the keys, finding melodies and rhythms that welcomed him home like a returning hero of a fairy tale.

He didn’t think he was skilled at it, but sometimes, when he played, Tim would move closer. His eyelids would flutter close, lying on the nearby couch and listening to Danny play with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes, Tim would fall asleep, seemingly at peace, as Danny strung through Dance of the Blessed Spirits only a few feet away.

Despite all the coffee Danny had provided him with, Tim was starting to develop a better sleeping schedule. The bags under his eyes slowly faded, and he was physically fit. Tim used their apartment building gym all the time, but his skin was gaining a glow previously not there.

He also seems much happier. Danny checked off another box of Tim being a ghost in development, with his Heart Attack Coffee being a big part of his obsession.  Maybe it would not be his sole purpose when he passed, but Danny suspected that the coffee was associated with a good memory that fundamentally shaped Tim’s sense of self.

Danny didn’t like to think too hard about it. He’s gotten comfortable with death, seeing it as a natural part of life now that he spent so much time around the Death-Brought Ghosts, but the idea of Tim passing always twisted his heart into knots.

Sharp, painful knots that leave him fleeing from the dark thoughts as fast as possible. It would be years before Tim would no longer be part of this world. He had better things to do, like adding bubbles and seaweed around the seahorse and taking time to add as many little details as he could to create the scene of a lovely underwater image.

Danny finishes just as the kitchen clock- an expensive cuckoo clock that had golden trimmings, blending so well with the dark wood and gorgeous forest theme carvings that Danny had fallen in love with the second he spotted it at a street art festival that the pair had stumbled upon during a drive they took. Tim bought it when he realized Danny liked it, and it hung up that night. - goes off with a loud chime.

Another day has officially ended. 

His roommate would be up soon for whatever he does at nighttime, where he vanished for hours, coming home nearly always after witching hours, exhausted and bruised. Danny would linger in the living room for a bit if he was awake before heading to his room with a half-made excuse.

Tim would then sleep for a few hours before he was up again, rushing around the apartment to gather his things and be out for his daytime work. A lot of his job he can do at home, but Tim was important enough that he sometimes had to go to work in person.

In the three weeks that the two have moved in together, Danny hasn’t been braved enough to ask what his roommate did for a living. He knows Tim held some big corporate job- where and what he did there was a mystery- but his second job was vague and downright denied at worst.

Whenever Danny hinted so much about what he was doing at night, Tim moved the subject away. He didn’t flat out deny answering Danny’s probing, as more as he danced around the question so well, Danny found himself waltzing in a different direction before he realized what had happened. Tim had a silver tongue that was wielded like a sword, sharp, cutting, and deadly.

 It was mildly alarming, mainly because Danny had no idea what Tim was involved in. Something big, something likely bad. It could be the only explanation for the large amount of seemingly never-ending funds and the odd hours that Tim kept.

A boring office worker by day and who knows what by night.

He also always came back home half stumbling over his feet. There was even that one time when Tim had been half-dressed, his knuckles split, and hard anger set at his jaw. Danny had been caught up with a new show, only realizing the late hour once his roommate had practically shut the door.

The pair stared at each other. Danny bathed in the glow of the TV while Tim was shirtless and standing in the shadows of the front door. He wanted to ask thousands of questions, but Danny had only lifted the heated blanket- a gift from Tim- when he learned how affected Danny was by the cold. 

Tim’s face softened as he barreled into the warmth and snuggled into the couch cushions, joining Danny in watching a Korean rom-con that the Halfa had been in the middle of. He had no idea what the plot was or who the characters were, but by the end of the third episode, Tim’s head had fallen on Danny’s shoulder so deeply asleep that he didn’t feel Danny wrapped up his knuckles or carried him to his room.

Despite this, Danny didn’t move out. He didn’t stop providing Tim with his much-loved coffee. If anything, he took his worries, boxed them up, and stubbornly turned a blind eye to the worrying signs that Tim was showing.

A door opens behind him. Tim walks out, an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder as he speed walks through the living room. His roommate is scrolling on his phone, tapping a rapid-fire response to whoever he is chatting with. Danny could see the bubble messages screen even if he couldn’t make out the words before sighing. “I’ll be out all night. I’ll probably be back tomorrow around noon.”

A pool of dread piles in his stomach, but Danny pushes it away. “Alright.”

He holds out the mug, drinking in every facial feature shift as surprise blooms over Tim’s face before it melts into tenderness when he sees the shape of the latte art. It was painstaking to learn how to make a realistic-looking one on such a problematic canvas, but Danny is happy he spent time on it. After all, Tim’s favorite animal was the seashore, so he needed to make sure it looked good.

Only a few people knew that from what Danny gathered from Tim's few mentions while working on their three notebooks. He also thinks Tim doesn’t often tell people his favorites, but Danny has been paying close attention whenever Tim reacts positively to the world around him. The way Tim’s eyes sparkled when Danny clicked on a sea documentary where the small, shaped fish had been a main feature. Danny had found it adorable how Tim seemed unaware that he would randomly blurt out a new fun fact about the seahorses in the following few days.

“When you learn to make this?” Tim asks, curling his fingers around the mug. Danny’s heart leaps in his chest at the tender warmth glowing in Tim’s eyes as he gazed at him. Coughing into his hand, he waves his hand.

“I had some time since there hadn’t been a lot of customers lately. Ever since that Dr. Freeze threat, people have been avoiding the café.” Danny ignores the guilt he feels about that.

The other day, his powers had gone out of control after he made the mistake of going too long without using his ice, and when he developed that stupid head cold, he accidentally froze the street.

One coughing session later, the entire neighborhood ran to take shelter, panicking that the rouge had chosen their homes for his newest mayhem. Thank goodness the villain had actually broken out of Arkham the previous day, so no one batted an eye at the fact the ice surrounding a single barista was in the middle of closing up for the night.

“It’s amazing, Danny,” Tim tells him, quickly snapping a picture with his phone before he takes a sip. His eyelashes flutter as he savors the flavor, this one is the original Batman theme coffee that Heart Attack discontinued.

Danny found the receipt in an older binder while doing inventory. Tim had tackled him in an enthusiastic hug the second he tried it and recognized the familiar taste.

“Thanks.” He blushes, trying not to notice that the bubbles have shifted slightly, resembling hearts instead of circles. Moving his eyes away from where the foam disappears into Tim’s lips, Danny mentally kicks himself for being weird about his fake boyfriend’s drinking.

He picks up the mug lid on the counter, turning it around in his hands while Tim takes another quick sip. There is some leftover steam milk on his lips when he pulls away, and the colorful seahorse is gone now. His core pulses, making a shiver run down his spine as Tim’s pink tongue darts out to lick away the teal green.

Danny coughs again as frost gathers on his back. Thank goodness he can feel it on his skin, which means it likely hasn’t passed through his comfortable sweater. He hasn’t told Tim about his powers, and he isn’t sure he wants to.

Gotham is an anti-meta city. Tim was as Gotham as they came. He can’t stand the thought of his roommate growing to hate him, especially for something that wasn’t precisely meta, but was the closest thing he was.

He leans forward, carefully sealing the mug. This was one of Tim’s favorites among his collectible mugs, primarily because it could shift into a traveling beverage holder.

Tim smiles at him. “I’m heading out then. See you tomorrow.” 

“Bye, stay safe,” Danny tells him to walk him to the front door. He stands there, feeling like he’s waiting for something to happen. But he isn’t entirely sure what that is, so all he does is lean against the wall as Tim slips on his running shoes, juggling his drink, phone, and bag. Danny smiles warmly when Tim raises his mug at him in a fast toast before he slips through the door, leaving their apartment with a soft “Sleep well, Danny.”

The wood of their door seals shut without a sound- apparently, the rich didn’t believe in noise because everything in the apartment was somehow soundproof. Tim moved like a shadow, rarely making a sound. Danny, by comparison, sounded like a bull in a china shop.

Once, when Danny apologized, Tim laughed.

“I like it, " he said while lounging in the hot tub on the balcony. Danny was on the other side, the warm water doing wonders for the frost forming at the bottom of his feet.  Thankfully, the water hid it from Tim’s sight. “It’s like you breathe life into the apartment with your noise.”

“Stay safe,” Danny says to the empty apartment. “Come home tomorrow.”

He rubs his face and figures he should head to be. It was ten at night, but Tim clarified that he wouldn’t return anytime soon. He’s tired from the previous three nights when he waited for Tim to come home. Thankfully, his shifts had been moved to the afternoon, so it didn’t mean much if Danny stayed up until three am for his roommate.

He strides by his piano, running his hand along the closed case of the keys without seeing it, for his gaze is locked on the city that glows under his window. It’s been nearly a month, and he’s still not used to the view of Gotham from this height. The penthouse towers over most of Gotham, and the city seems beautiful from up here. A Decorative lie of the danger that waited in the wake of anyone down on their luck.

This place was like a Siren. Beautiful and alluring until its claws and teeth dug into someone’s skin, dragging them to the darkest depths where no one could hear their screams. He prays that whatever Tim is involved doesn’t let Gotham swallow him whole.

 Danny’s fingers accidentally come upon cloth, making him snap his chin down to see what had been placed on the wood and blink at the side of Tim’s discarded sleeping long-sleeve shirt. His roommate peeled it off earlier tonight when he wanted to walk around in his shirt sleeve and flung it somewhere to take a quick nap before he left.

His fingers close around the fabric, slowly bringing it up to his face, breathing in Tim’s distinctive scent mixed with the soft lavender of his fabric softener. Danny hesitates for only a few seconds before taking off his sweater and slips on Tim’s long sleeve, allowing himself to find comfort in the familiar scent surrounding him.

He lets his sweater pool on the floor in the living room as he wanders to his room, crashing under his blankets and pressing the fabric of Tim’s clothes to his face. Eventually, he is lured to sleep, dreaming of playing in Gotham’s largest theater, hands flying over the keys at a skill level he does not possess. He moves with the music, uncaring that the seats are empty except for one.

That one belongs to Tim, who watches him perform with the same tenderness as his latte art inspired, but instead of a drink, Danny’s music causes that expression.

It’s the best dream he had in a long while.

As he dreams, he is unaware of the figure checking in on him, hanging from a grabbing hook near his window. The figure smiles when its white lens notices how Danny is curled up in a ball before it zips to the roof, their cap flaring behind them.

When they land, they reach up to link on their com "Red Robin reporting for duty. Where is Dr. Freeze's last known location? I want him caught tonight."

"Good night to you, too," Oracle responds. "Any particular reason we're in such a hurry for the capture of Dr. Freeze."

"He's making it hard for the hard-working people of Gotham to work," He huffs, knowing the rest of the bats will correctly link his complaint to his roommate.

There is a loaded pause before Red Hood grunts. "I got good news for you then. Dr. Freeze has spotted this very afternoon. Meet up at Heart Attack by Crime Alley to compare notes in an hour."

"I'm on my way."

[actuallybridgetjones]

so long (worst!wolverine x reader)

warnings: +18 minors do not interact, smut, fluff, female!reader, worst!wolverine, change of events, after d&w.

a/n: hi! since d&w got on disney+ i just had to rewatch it and had this idea. please note that this is my first fic ever and that english isn’t my first language. also, i can’t write wade accurately so here is my messy attempt. sorry in advance for any mistake (or if this seems to messy) and feedback is much appreciated. love, carol ♡

you and logan had a life together, both teacher at charle's institute. your relationship with him blossomed through late sleepless nights in the kitchen, when you listened to the older man, appreciating the little he shared with you everyday.

it was evident that you two grew close as each day passed. after lingering touches and stares, stollen kisses in empty classrooms, you eventually got together and boy, were you happy.

you had it all, you knew each other like the palm of your hand. you were logan's harbor and he was your safe haven. you saw how he would get when the nightmares were too much, feeling the urge to drink his worries away. you saw his flaws and his sins and still you stood by.

that's what made logan wonder at first. it made him wonder how a girl sweet and kind like you wasn't terrified by the thought of him. he would often even wonder what kind of good thing he did to have you only listening to him in the first place.

so, when that tragic night came, logan got reminded of how he didn't deserve any good, how everything of his always had a way to be taken, ruined. he was coming home from the bar, a solo mission went wrong, he decided to stop to drink it away before collapsing in your arms. he knew you would be home, you were always home.

until you weren't.

he got to the mansion to find it filled with dead bodies, jean, scott, storm, hank... everyone, it was a blood bath. logan's first thought was you. running into your shared bedroom, he searched, spent days looking through the damn corpses but there were no traces of you, nothing for him to mourn over.

logan turned to alcohol and self hatred, his healing abilities now appearing as a curse, as if nothing was hard enough to numb him from the pain of it all.

the day wade (or whatever was his name) came in saying that he would take him out of there, logan didn’t even flinch. if he didn’t have you, there was nothing holding him back to his timeline.

here he was now, storming in to help deadpool, the guy who gave him a second chance, stoping cassandra with the time reaper. his mind was filled with memory of the journey he had gone through, but not only.

through his head flew images of you. your smile, your eyes, your small almost unnoticeable freckles, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed and the way your cheeks always seemed to turn a warm pink shade around him. images of you underneath and on top of him, holding him or sleeping tightly in his embrace. memories of slow mornings tangled on each other and late nights spent panting.

after all was safe and sound, after wade’s world was no longer endangered, logan gave himself a second chance too. he let himself be friends with wade, agreeing to live with him until he figured something out. he always did.

wade, cheery as ever, took logan to his building, wanting him to meet blind al, the so infamous roommate. after climbing up the stairs logan feels a perfume he hadn’t felt in years. he turned to see you shuffling through your keys, trying to enter the apartment. you didn’t even have to turn his way.

it was you.

logan stood frozen, trying to figure out if this was another one of life’s tricks to him.

“peanunt, that’s y/n, she’s a sweet girl, but you’re literally drooling you nasty dog” wade says, and that’s when you turn to the two men, hearing your name coming from the mouth of your chatty neighbor.

the sight in front of you made your heart stop. was it your logan? could it be? or was it just another nightmare about the love of your life, just for you to wake to an empty cold bed?

your brows furrow as you look at him. he was older, thinner even despite his still very defined muscles. you were sure this was your logan from the way he looked at you, his hazel eyes seeming worn over but with the same love inside of them.

“lo-logan?”

“y/n?”

your breath hitched on your throat as tears fall down your face. you run to logan, wrapping your arms tightly around him. if this was a dream, you wanted to hug him for one last time, to atleast try to feel his embrace, his touch.

logan hugged you back, bringing your smaller body to his chest as he crouched to whisper, crying too. “is this really you? y/n, oh god”

you pull your head back to look into his eyes, meeting his hazel orbs.

it was your logan.

“i-i can’t believe…” your voice comes out shaky, small even as you look at the man. dirty, rugged and with stains of blood everywhere, but he was your man.

“oh darling… god darling girl” his voice is small too, contrasting with his own appearance. you wrap your arms securely around his neck once again, crying in pure bliss as his large arms came to wrap around your waist.

“i missed you so much” you say between sobs against his neck. “how-how did you get here?” he asks, finally finding all of his worries dissipating in your embrace.

“on the night of the attack… a portal opened and I came here, I had no idea how to go back, how to go back to you lo-” you say almost out of breath, feeling his hand now softly combing through your hair.

logan pulls back to look at you in the eyes, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek as he whispered “beautiful” and brings his lips to yours.

there’s no point in denying the hurry of the kiss, the desperation and the longing cursing through your veins. of course there’s always someone to wreck the party.

“peanut? honey? am i missing something or are we starting to make out with greasy strangers in the hallways now?” deadpool’s voice interrupts.

logan grunts and turns back to him, giving him a glare. “she was, is, the one i told you about” the wolverine says surprinsingly soft.

you smile and add shyly “he’s the one i told you about”, logan looks at you tenderly, a reminder of the love still in him. the love that he had burried deep down after that night.

“honey? you had no will to tell me that THE MAN YOU WERE FUCKING NASTY BACK IN YOUR TIMELINE WAS THE WOLVERINE?” wade adds excitedly.

you and logan both roll your eyes, you blush and turn to your neighbor. “i don’t know if he was going up to meet blind al, but i’m going to keep him for the night”

“don’t make too much noise”

before you pull your long lost lover inside with you into your apartment he turns back. “hey, wade… thank you”.

after that he was on you, door closed as he pinned you against it, arms wrapping around you, your own traveling down the hoodie he was wearing. your lips meet in a searing kiss, his tongue not taking much time in entering your mouth, joining your own in a slow and long known dance.

this was home.

“my bedroom his down the hall” you say between kisses and logan pulls you to wrap your legs around his torso, bringing you to your own bedroom. once you’re there he lays you against the bed gently, taking off his hoodie and moving to remove the tank top you were wearing, nothing underneath.

“what a fucking sight” he whispers, the rough tone contrasting with the love his gaze held, his eyes turning a deep shade of forest greeen now. reaching down, he kisses your neck, bitting and nibbling on the tender skin under his mouth.

"i- i need you logan" you say gravely, voice filled with need and passion. you remove your jeans and panties, laying bare under him now. "what a sight, princess" he hums against your hear, letting out a soft groan as he feels your desperate hands fumbling with his pants.

not longer after that, logan was moving inside you, his movements desperate as your manicured nails dig into the flesh of his back. his hands travel sloppily down your body, massaging the soft skin.

"i love you logan, i love you" you manage to say between moans, head thrown back in pleasure as you feel your high approaching. his hips grew more erratic, your words making his need grow "you'll be the death of me darlin' " he says between pants.

you feel the familiar stretch of his large cock on you, the familiar pleasure his calloused hands bring you. but you also see the depth of his eyes. the love and longing they carry. he shifts, now kneeling as his hands grasp at your hips, tight enough to bruise.

from the new angle it all feels too much and you can't even begin to process it until it's happening. "oh logan..." you almost scream in pure bliss, your whole body convulsing as your eyes roll to the back of your head, your juices spilling all over him.

the sight is too much for logan as he cums inside of you, the feel of his warm seed filling you up, making you squirm. he collapses on top of you, his hands anchoring his body as he looks you in the eye, still inside of you. "i love you so much princess"

you can only smile, new tears threatening to roll down your cheeks as you looked at the man that was, is, everything to you. in that moment you know it'll be alright, and he knows, feels it too.

as long as you've got each other, it'll be alright.

[ghsface]

Not sure if you are taking request but can we get an angst with Matt where like reader and him are dating for years but recently comments have been getting to her or people have been following her home and eventually she decideds to break up with Matt but Matt takes things to in his hands where he’s tells ppl to stop and they get back together?(Lol sorry if it didn’t make sense but thank you)

𝜗𝜚 new messege .ᐟ.ᐟ

Hey gorgeous, I really liked this idea, I hope you like it too.

You are the only thing I want - Matt Sturniolo

Sumary: You and Matt had a secret relationship and when you decide to make it public everything goes wrong...

Warnings: angst hate messages towards reader, this is just angst with a happy ending

A/n: Leave me ideas to write in my inbox because I'm running out of ideas. I'm sorry if something is misspelled or not understood. My first language is not English. By the way, what do you think of my new theme, in my opinion, it's very cute like the baby pink and light brown. 🩷🧸

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It had been exactly fourteen months since the first time you and Matt kissed. You hadn't imagined then how important he would become in your life, nor that being with him would be so complicated. Because, although you adored each other and the bond between you grew every day, that relationship had to be kept secret. It was a mutual decision, made for practical reasons. At first, the thrill of secrecy made everything more exciting. But now, you both felt exhausted.

You had spent too many nights talking secretly in the car, dates arranged down to the last detail so as not to be seen, or moments of solitude where, instead of shouting to the world how much you loved each other, you had to hide it like a forbidden secret. The situation was starting to weigh on you.

That night, you were on the couch at Matt's house. He was holding you, and your head was resting on his shoulder while you felt his fingers playing with the strands of your hair.

"Aren't you tired of this?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence.

You raised your head and looked at him, searching his eyes for what he really wanted to say.

"What are you talking about?"

"About having to hide… about not being able to tell anyone how amazing you are." Matt smiled, but his eyes reflected a sadness that you shared.

"Of course I'm tired. Sometimes I wish we could be a normal couple".

"Then let's do it", he suggested, giving your hand a squeeze. "Let's make it public. I don't care what others say. I want to be with you, and I want everyone to know it."

The idea made you feel butterflies in your stomach. The love you had for Matt was bigger than any fear, and the fact that he was willing to share your relationship with his fans made you feel special. You decided to announce it on social media.

When Matt uploaded the first photo of the two of you together, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The image showed an intimate moment, a selfie of the two smiling on the beach, with the sunset in the background. The caption was simple but powerful: “Over a year together, and we’re just getting started.”

For the first few hours, the response was overwhelmingly positive. There were comments from fans congratulating and supporting them: “They look beautiful together,” “Finally someone makes Matt happy as he deserves,” “What a great couple they make!”

But over time, other types of messages began to appear. “Her? Is he really with her?”, “She’s not enough for him,” “She’s only with him for fame, I’m sure she’ll use him to become famous,” “Poor Matt, he deserves someone better.”

At first, you tried not to take them seriously. But every time you checked your phone, more of those comments appeared. There were people criticizing your appearance: “She’s too basic for someone like him,” “She’s not even pretty, how dare she date Matt?”, “Matt deserves someone more attractive.”

The words cut you deeply. You knew you shouldn’t let those comments affect you, but you couldn’t stop the doubts from starting to poison your mind. Every time you looked in the mirror, you started to see those flaws that others mentioned. Insecurity began to invade you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

Matt tried to comfort you whenever he noticed you looking down. Sometimes, during the night, he would catch you reading the comments on your phone, and he would simply take the phone away from you and hold you, whispering that he loved you and that was all that mattered.

“You don’t need to listen to those people, babe,” he said, looking at you with a sincere expression. “They don’t know anything about you, they don’t know how amazing you are.”

The comments didn’t stop, though. Every day they became crueler and crueler. Rumors began to circulate suggesting that you were only with Matt to gain followers, or that you were using his fame to make yourself known. People commented on every aspect of your life, from how you dressed to how you looked without makeup. There were those who said things like, “It’s obvious that she dresses like that to get attention, can’t she dress up better?” or “She should thank Matt for giving her a chance, she’s just an ordinary girl.”

At some point, comments were no longer the only thing. People started following you home, taking photos of you without your permission, and even trying to get close to you to ask you invasive questions. You felt watched and judged at every turn, and little by little, you started to believe that you weren't enough, that maybe all those people were right.

The pressure began to be unbearable. Your self-esteem plummeted, and every time you looked in the mirror, you saw someone who, according to the world, wasn’t enough. Matt tried to cheer you up, to remind you how much he loved you, but you couldn’t stand it anymore.

One night, after one of your most difficult conversations, you asked him to meet you. Matt came over to your house, and as soon as you saw him, he knew something was wrong. He stared at you in silence as you searched for the words to say to him.

“Matt… I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“What are you saying?” he asked, frowning, clearly worried.

“I can’t be in this relationship anymore. The pressure, the comments… they’re tearing me apart. I can’t take it anymore.

Matt looked at you, unable to process what you were saying. He was trying to understand, but the pain in your eyes made it clear to him that you were really hurt.

“But… I love you, and I don’t care what other people think. They don’t understand what we have.”

“I know, Matt. I know you love me, but I can’t go on like this. I’m losing myself in all of this.” It's getting harder and harder to get up and pretend everything is okay.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your tears. “Matt… I can’t keep going like this. I can’t handle the pressure, the comments, the people following me everywhere. I feel like I’m losing myself, and I don’t want to drag you into this. I think… I think it’s best that we break up.”

The goodbye was hard and heartbreaking for both of us. In the days that followed, Matt stayed away from social media, not mentioning anything about what had happened. He isolated himself, trying to understand how the love of his life had to walk away because of the cruelty of others.

Weeks went by as you tried to get over the situation, even though you felt empty. However, one afternoon, while you were checking your social media, you noticed a post from Matt that surprised you.

It was a photo of you and him that Nick had taken, and the message was clear and direct: “I don't give a shit what others say about my girlfriend. I'm with her because I love her, and that's never going to change.”

Matt's public statement was not only a message to his fans, but a promise that he was willing to stand up for what they had. Feeling a torrent of emotions, you decided to call him. When he answered, his voice trembled with emotion.

"I can't go on without you" he said quietly, while you tried to hold back your tears.

"Me neither, Matt… I love you."

That night, they met again, and between tears and hugs, they knew that this time there would be nothing and no one that could separate.

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your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly, and feel free to leave a request ✮

⤷ Tags... @matthewsroses @sophand4n4 @strnilolover @lolastrniolo

[gojoluvs]

J'adore

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

summary, “her world turned upside down when her boss announced that he was the father of her unborn child. As she navigates her new life as a wife and mother, she finds herself falling for her husband's best friend, Suguru Geto. But is it love she feels? or just a desperate attempt to be noticed by someone other than her husband..”

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, violence.

Genre; angst, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader, modern au!, business au!

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message.

7k words

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"Welcome Mrs. Gojou, will you take a seat please?" The brown-haired woman gestured towards the chair in front of her desk.

You followed her instructions and sat down, taking in the sterile, white room around you.

The woman, who you assumed was the ultrasound technician, grabbed her gloves and a bottle of hand sanitizer, making sure to clean her hands before beginning the procedure.

As she prepared the ultrasound machine, you couldn't help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. This was your first ultrasound, and you couldn't wait to see your baby for the first time.

The technician, sensing your anxiousness, smiled and said, "Don't worry, everything will be just fine."

You nodded and took a deep breath as you slowly laid down on the ultrasound table. The technician applied some gel to your stomach and began moving the wand around, searching for a clear image of your baby. As she did so, she asked, "How have you been feeling, Y/N?"

You smiled and replied, "A little tired and nauseous, but overall, I'm doing well.”

As you settled into Satoru's lavish house, the only person you could really call a friend was his maid. She was kind and always made sure you were well taken care of. However, Satoru had a different idea of taking care of you.

He insisted that you stop working because, for him, he made over 7 figures as the CEO of one of the most well-known stock markets. He wanted you to focus on being a housewife and living a life of luxury.

You had never been one to rely on a man for financial stability, but Satoru's charm and wealth was hard to resist. Plus, he seemed genuinely caring and attentive towards you. However, as you spent more time in his house, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness and lack of purpose.

As she squeezed the cold gel onto your stomach, you couldn't help but think about your old job and the satisfaction it gave you.

You missed the feeling of being independent and working towards your own goals. But for now, you were stuck in this luxurious prison, under the control of a man who inherited his wealth and business from his father.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was the life you truly wanted, or if you were just settling for the convenience and comfort that Satoru provided. As the cold gel seeped into your skin, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was missing.

Although you were excited about your upcoming marriage, there was also a sense of unease and disappointment. You couldn't help but wish that your fiancee, Satoru, could be with you during this time.

But the reality was that he was always busy with work, his success as the youngest CEO in Japan consuming his every waking moment.

You often found yourself alone in bed at night, the emptiness and coldness a constant reminder of his absence. Despite the lavish and extravagant lifestyle that came with being engaged to such a successful man, you couldn't help but feel like you were missing out on something more important - quality time and genuine love.

After all, your relationship with Satoru was an arranged marriage, forced upon you after you became pregnant with his child. And as much as you tried to please his family and win their acceptance, there were always those who looked down upon you and your situation.

But deep down, you couldn't help but resent Satoru for his lack of affection and attention towards you, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were truly happy in this arrangement.

“If you can see here,” She grabbed her monitor turning it to face you. You knew her as one of Satoru’s friends. “Your baby is barely a tiny embryo, about the size of a pea.”

You smiled, seeing the small fetus on the monitor. You wished that Satoru could be here with you. Holding your hand and caressing your head but instead here you were. By yourself watching as the screen showed the small heartbeat of your baby.

After what felt like both the longest and shortest 20 minutes of your life, the technician turned off the machine and smiled at you. "Everything looks great, Y/N. Your baby is healthy and growing right on track."

As you stared at the screen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt and insecurity. Would your fiancee ever truly see you as his partner, or would you always just be a means to an end? The ultrasound picture in your hand seemed to mock you, a reminder of the life growing inside you that would bind you to this man forever.

But deep down, you knew the truth. Satoru was still in love with Asami, his beautiful and practical secretary. You had never been properly introduced to her, always feeling like an outsider in your own relationship. You couldn't even go back to work, as Utahime would constantly update you on everything happening in the office - including Asami's constant presence and the expensive gifts she received from Satoru.

The constant flowers and expensive gifts Satoru's lover received from your fiancée only added insult to injury. While you never expected extravagant gifts, you never even received a simple gesture of affection from Satoru. He never touched you, never kissed you goodbye, and never gave you a hug. Whenever you would try to connect with him by asking about his work or if he was hungry, he would give you the cold shoulder.

Despite not being a great cook, you made an effort to prepare breakfast for Satoru like a professional. You whipped up pancakes and served them on a platter, hoping he would enjoy them. But time and time again, he would make an excuse about being "late" for work and leave without even taking a bite.

It seemed like all your efforts to connect with Satoru were overlooked and unappreciated. The only person who seemed to enjoy your company was his maid, who was kind and always treated you with respect. It was clear that your fiancée was not only mean and an asshole, but also had no interest in building a loving and fulfilling relationship with you.

“Would you like me to print the picture for you?” She asked her soft brown eyes boring into you. She was absolutely gorgeous aswell, her noticable eyebags bringing her features out.

“Yes please,” Wiping off the gel she got up, throwinf away the piece of paper before leaving the room.

You sat there, the ac blowing. Placing a hand on your stomach you couldn’t believe you were actually having a baby with your boss.

You never really had a serious relationship with anyone, always having flings. Yet you found yourself making out with your boss after his promotion party.

There was something about the way his eyes stared hungrily at you, maybe it was the liquor that made you two sleep together but now here you were. Sitting down awaiting for a picture of your baby.

Fidgeting with the button of your jeans you waited nervously. Hoping that maybe this would mean a new opportunity to be with Satoru.

"Alright, everything seems to be good, here you go," said the doctor entering the room with a small picture of your ultrasound. She handed it to you with a warm smile, and you eagerly grabbed it, feeling a sense of joy and excitement wash over you.

"Thank you so much," you said, beaming with happiness. You grabbed your purse and quickly made your way out of the room, eager to share the news with your fiancee. As you hurried down the stairs and out of the building, you could feel your heart racing with anticipation.

Your fiancee was waiting for you in his black range rover, looking as handsome as ever. You opened the car door and climbed inside, a bit out of breath from the stairs. "What took you so long?" he asked, side eying you with a hint of annoyance.

"I'm sorry, I just had to grab something," you replied, handing him the picture of your ultrasound. But instead of sharing in your excitement, he just scoffed and spat out, "I'm not looking at that." He carelessly threw the picture back at you, his words stinging like a slap in the face.

You felt your heart sink as you looked down at the picture, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't believe the callousness and lack of empathy in his words. But you knew deep down that this was just a glimpse of the kind of person he truly was.

"Listen, I'm going to take you back home," your fiancé said, his voice cold and condescending. "Mina has a dress ready for you. There's going to be a business party and I want you to be on your best behavior." He licked his lips suggestively and pressed the button to roll down the car window.

You felt a knot form in your stomach as you nervously played with the picture of your ultrasound. You knew your husband's business parties were nothing more than excuses for him to flirt with his colleagues and show off his trophy wife.

"A business party? Will everyone from the office be there?" you asked, forcing yourself to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the road, not bothering to spare a glance at you.

"Of course they will," he replied, his tone condescending. "And I expect you to make a good impression. We don't want anyone knowing our personal business, do we?"

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to argue. You knew it would be pointless. Your fiancé always got what he wanted, and you were just a pawn in his game. But as he continued to talk about the party, you couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that had settled in your chest.

“There will be an after party as well, but you won't be attending since,” he paused for a moment, his eyes flickering down to your stomach before returning to the road. “You're pregnant.”

"Just because I'm carrying your child doesn't mean anything, Satoru." You spat back, angrily putting your picture inside your purse.

"I'm taking Asami with me instead. You can stay home and rest." You glared at him, feeling hurt and furious at his insensitivity. How dare he take his assistant and ex-lover to the after party instead of you? Your blood boiled with anger and resentment towards your fiancee.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Why would you need your assistant there and not me? I'm your fucking fiancee, Satoru," you snapped, unable to contain your frustration.

"She's not just an assistant, Y/N," Satoru replied sharply. "And what did I say about talking back to me?" He gave you a warning look, his gaze boring into you. You wanted to scream and punch him for the nerve of not taking you, but you knew it would only make things worse.

"You know what? I don't even want to go to the stupid after party," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'll stay here and enjoy some peace and quiet while you go gallivanting with your little plaything." You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, hurt and anger mixing together to form a bitter concoction.

The more you thought about it, the more resentful you became. It was bad enough that Asami was his assistant, but the fact that they used to be lovers only added salt to the wound. You couldn't believe he would choose her over you. It felt like a slap in the face.

Satoru's face hardened and he clenched his jaw. "Don't you dare talk about Asami like that. She's just my assistant."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Just like how she was just your lover, right?"

Satoru's expression turned dark as he glared at you. "Watch your tone, she is a professional and a valuable member of our team."

"Valuable in more ways than one, I'm sure," you retorted, your jealousy and anger fueling your words.

"Stop with your baseless accusations and insecurities," Satoru shot back, his voice dripping with irritation. "Asami and I have a strictly professional relationship, unlike you and your constant mood swings."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaimed, struggling to contain your anger. "You have no respect for me, even though I am pregnant with your child."

Satoru rolled his eyes and slammed the car door shut as he pulled into the driveway. You followed suit, opening the car door and slamming it with a loud thud. This man had no regard for your feelings or well-being, constantly belittling and disrespecting you.

As you entered the house, you could feel the tension in the air. You placed your things on the counter and grabbed the ultrasound picture, placing it on the fridge with a small magnet. You couldn't help but smile at the small embryo growing inside you, a glimmer of hope in the midst of your tumultuous relationship.

"Ms. Y/N," your maid appeared behind you, her gentle hands taking your coat and bag from you before leading you to your bedroom. You followed her, grateful for the brief respite from Satoru's intense gaze.

Satoru entered after you, his confident steps echoing in the hallway. He placed a hand on his tie before undoing it, his eyes never leaving yours. You closed the bedroom door, letting out a shaky breath as you leaned against it. Unbuttoning your jeans, you let them fall to the floor before walking to your bathroom. The cold marble floor felt refreshing against your bare feet.

"Um, Mina, can you please have my things out? We'll be leaving soon," you said, forcing a smile as you silently closed the door behind you.

Being away from Satoru's presence for a few minutes felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. You began undressing the rest of yourself, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were drawn to the tiny bump on your stomach, only six weeks along but already noticeable.

You open the glass door, feeling a cool breeze hit your skin as you step into the shower. You test the water temperature with your hand and adjust it to your liking before stepping fully under the stream. Grabbing the shampoo bottle, you slowly pour some onto your hand and massage it into your hair, relishing the feeling of cleanliness and freshness.

But as the water runs down your body, you can't help but feel a sense of unease. This whole thing feels wrong. You place both of your hands on your face, the water washing away any traces of tears. You hate this. You hate being away from home, from your family. Even though the only family you have left is your father.

The shower is quick, scrubbing your body with a loofah and doing all your essentials before stepping out. You wrap your body in a fluffy towel and slip on your slippers, walking out of the restroom and into your bedroom. The familiar scent of your own room comforts you, but it also serves as a reminder of how far away you are from home. You long for the familiarity and warmth of your family, but for now, this temporary living situation will have to do.

Your eyes were drawn to the beautiful dark red gown laid out on your bed. Walking towards it, you couldn't resist the urge to touch the fabric and feel the soft silk through the fingertips of your fingers. "Mina!" You yelled, quickly grabbing your underwear and putting it on before your maid came in.

Mina's face was slightly flushed as she entered your room and bowed, closing the door behind her. You could tell she was a bit flustered from seeing your body half-naked, but she remained professional as she awaited your command. "Do you think you can help me get into the dress?" You asked kindly, picking up the gown and passing it to her.

With a nod, Mina approached you and carefully helped you into the dress. She adjusted the straps and made sure it fit you perfectly, like it was made for you. You couldn't help but feel like a princess as you admired yourself in the mirror. "Thank you, Mina," you said with a smile.

Mina then handed you a pair of white gloves and you slid them onto your arms. Mina bowed once again, ready to leave and let you finish getting ready.

But before she could, you stopped her and said, “Please Mina, Help me with my hair will you?” You asked kindly, watching as she made you sit on your vanity, excusing herself for a moment to get the tools and supplies she needed you stared at yourself in the mirror.

As you sat in front of your vanity, Mina carefully brushed out your hair and began styling it into an elegant updo. You couldn't believe how kind she was being, helping you with something as simple as your hair. You were used to doing everything on your own, but Mina's presence made you feel cared for and pampered.

She applied makeup and added finishing touches to your hair, you couldn't help but stare at your reflection. You looked like a completely different person, someone who belonged in a fairytale or a fancy ball. This was all so new to you, as you were used to wearing work clothes or comfortable sweats.

But you had to admit, you looked stunning. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to feel like a princess, basking in the luxury of it all. But deep down, you knew this wasn't really you. You were just a simple person, and all of this was foreign to you.

Mina's hands moved quickly, expertly adorning you with various pieces of jewelry. "We have this pearl necklace, it brings out your collarbones more, and this one," she said, holding up a red jeweled necklace, "it brings out your facial features, especially your eye color."

As she placed the necklace around your neck, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Her short bobbed hair and dark green eyes were mesmerizing. You couldn't resist smiling at her as she finished her task.

"Which one do you think is better, Mina?" you asked, admiring yourself in the mirror.

Mina seemed taken aback by your question, stuttering slightly before recomposing herself. She carefully chose the red necklace and placed it back on you, clipping the clasp in place. "The red jewel really makes you look like a princess, Miss Gojo," she said with a smile as you turned to face her.

You couldn't help but feel grateful for Mina's help. Her attention to detail and eye for beauty made you feel like royalty. "Thank you, Mina," you said, genuinely touched by her kindness.

Mina smiled back and gave you a small nod before stepping back to admire her work. "You look stunning," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel confident and beautiful, thanks to Mina's expert styling. You were lucky to have her as your friend and maid.

The whole time you spent gossiping and getting to learn about Mina's life, you couldn't help but admire her. She was truly a sweet soul, always kind and hardworking despite being in a low-paying job as your maid. Her resilience and positive attitude were something you looked up to. As you walked through your luxurious home, you couldn't help but feel guilty.

Mina deserved a better life, one with more opportunities and less back-breaking labor. Your heels clicked on the marble floor, a reminder of the stark contrast between your lives. As you grabbed your designer purse and said your goodbyes to Mina, you couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility towards her.

"Please, take this time off and get some rest," you insisted, knowing how hard she worked every day. You watched as she reluctantly agreed, and as you walked out of your home, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you wished you could do more for her.

Closing the door behind you as you walked out of your house, you felt a sense of tension in the air. Satoru was standing on the driveway, his arms pushed into the pockets of his black suit, his back leaning against his sleek Mercedes Benz. As you approached him, his gaze was fixed on you, his eyes scanning every inch of your body. You could feel his intense stare, making you self-conscious about how you looked.

You were wearing a stunning dress that hugged your body perfectly, accentuating your curves in all the right places. Your face was glowing, and your collarbones were prominently displayed, making you feel both beautiful and vulnerable under his gaze.

But Satoru's reaction is what surprises you. His mouth slightly agape, he looks like he's seeing you for the first time. You pass by him, unable to resist a small smile as you hear him let out a soft sigh.

"Don't look at me like that," you say, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

You reach for the passenger door and open it, climbing into the car and trying to ignore the intensity of Satoru's gaze. "Like what?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Like you've never seen me before," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Satoru doesn't respond, but you can feel the tension between you. It's been building up since you walked out of the house, and now it's almost palpable in the air. You can't help but wonder what he's thinking, what he wants to say.

Finally, he opens the car door and gets in, his eyes never leaving yours. The drive to your destination is filled with a charged silence, the tension between you growing with each passing minute. But for now, you just sit in the car, the only sound the quiet hum of the engine and the beating of your heart.

Ignoring his presence, your gaze shifted to the window, taking in the familiar scenery outside. The trees rustled in the gentle breeze, and the sun was just starting to set, casting a warm glow over the quiet neighborhood. You watched as he backed the car out of the driveway and onto the road, his expression unreadable.

The car ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the occasional glance exchanged between the two of you. His hair was slicked back, accentuating his sharp jawline, and you couldn't help but notice the engagement ring on his finger as he turned the wheel to take a sharp turn. Your own ring felt heavy on your finger, and you couldn't stop fidgeting with it nervously.

Sitting in the luxurious car, dressed in a designer gown and adorned with expensive jewelry, you couldn't believe that this was your life now. Just a few weeks ago, you were a struggling employee, barely making ends meet and working for a difficult boss. You didn't know that he would be the man you would be engaged to, or that you would end up pregnant with his child. And now, you were about to marry him in an arranged marriage, all because of that one night of passion.

Looking out the window, you couldn't help but think about the life you could have had if you didn't get pregnant. Maybe you would have met someone else, someone who you could have married and had a family with. But instead, you were now a part of one of the most powerful and influential families in the country. The Gojo family was treated like royalty, and you were now going to become a part of it.

This was the man you would spend the rest of your life with, and it all started with one unexpected pregnancy.

Stepping out of the car, the bustling sounds of the city surrounded you. Gojo, your fiancé, opened the door for you and grabbed your hand, placing it gently on his forearm. The luxurious car door closed with a satisfying thud and Gojo handed the keys to the parking attendant who quickly took his car to the reserved section of the party.

Outside of the building, a sea of paparazzi awaited your arrival, their cameras flashing and voices yelling. You held onto your elegant dress, carefully making your way up the stairs as Gojo led the way. As soon as the paparazzi spotted your fiancé, they erupted into a frenzy, shouting his name and begging for him to look at their cameras. You held onto Gojo's arm tightly, feeling slightly overwhelmed by all the attention.

"Gojo! Over here!" they yelled, their voices competing for his attention. He pulled you closer, shielding you from the flashes and noise before finally stopping to pose for a photo, much to the delight of the paparazzi.

Satisfied with your appearance, you confidently walked over to the entrance of the grand building. As you stepped inside, you were met with the grandeur of the foyer - a large chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm and inviting glow over the space.

The sound of lively conversations and laughter filled the air as you made your way through the crowded hallway, passing clusters of elegantly dressed men and women. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as you walked further into the party, the energy and sophistication of the room enveloping you. Everywhere you looked, there were people engaged in lively conversations, sipping on glasses of champagne or wine, and admiring each other's luxurious gowns and suits.

Satoru cleared his throat once he spotted Asami, wearing a tight long black dress. She scurried towards you, glancing at you before smiling for a split second. Her smile seemed fake, as if she was trying too hard to appear friendly. You could feel your blood boiling as she placed her hand on his bicep and turned to look at you.

You could see the tension in her eyes as she tried to maintain her composed facade. "Do you mind if I take him for a moment?" she asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Your eyes narrowed at her before turning to look at your fiancé's expression. He seemed uncomfortable, almost avoiding eye contact with you. "I don't give a fuck what you do," you spat back, your anger and frustration rising.

You couldn't believe this woman had the audacity to try and take your fiancé away from you, even just for a moment. You walked away from the ex lovers, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor echoing in the hallway.

You walked away, Feeling Asami's eyes on you, almost like she was waiting for you to lash out at her. But you didn't want to give her the satisfaction. You didn't want to stoop to her level and engage in her petty games. You rolled your eyes at them, walking away and distancing yourself from the drama. You didn't want to deal with her bullshit, especially not while you were pregnant and already dealing with enough emotions. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just the fact that you couldn't stand her, but you were glad to have walked away from that toxic situation.

You were standing next to a table in the corner of the room, watching the crowd of people mingling and laughing. You let out a sigh, feeling a bit left out. You really did wish you could drink right now, but you knew you couldn't. Not with the baby growing inside of you. Suddenly, a girl approached your table, placing a cup of champagne on it before turning to look at you. She was wearing a beautiful white dress, her long brown hair cascading down her back.

"Are you the new fiancée of Satoru?" she asked, watching as you turned to face her. You were a bit taken aback by her sudden question. How did she know who you were? And why was she approaching you?

"Yes, who may you be?" you asked politely, trying to hide your confusion. The girl smiled at you, her eyes showing slight signs of exhaustion.

"Sorry, we met earlier," she explained. She extended her hand out, waiting for you to grab it and shake it. You smiled back and shook her hand, trying to place where you might have met her before.

"I was the ultrasound technician who did your appointment earlier today," she said, taking a sip of the champagne. It all clicked in your mind now. This was the kind woman who had performed your ultrasound and showed you the image of your little bundle of joy.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Ieiri," you said, grateful for her introduction. You couldn't help but notice the slight bags under her eyes, a sign of her long and tiring day.

"Please, call me Shoko," she said with a warm smile, retreating her hand and taking another sip of champagne. You couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity with her, and you were grateful for her presence in this unfamiliar gathering.

Thats when it happened, completely star struck. You instantly recognized him, Suguru Geto. The man who partnered up with your fiancee for one of the most known stock exchange in Japans history.

He walked into the room with confidence, his tall frame and sharp features immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He wore a sleek black suit, his hair styled in a neat bun with a few strands of hair falling out to frame his face. His dark eyes scanned the room, his presence commanding attention and respect.

As he approached your table, he had a warm and gentle smile on his face. He placed his glass of champagne down and turned to look at you. His eyes scanned over your body, taking in every detail. You could feel his gaze on you, causing your heartbeat to quicken. His eyes stopped at your face, lingering on your lips before looking back up to meet your gaze.

"Absolutely gorgeous," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. He reached for your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. Your heart fluttered at his touch, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of electricity between the two of you. He placed your hand back down with a smile, his eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn't believe it. This had to be a dream, a cruel trick your brain was playing on you. But as the music filled your ears and Suguru's hand gently rested on the small of your back, you couldn't help but feel like you were in a fairytale.

"I- Uhm," you stuttered, feeling your heart race as you tried to recompose yourself. "Thank you."

Suguru's gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on yours as he introduced himself. "I'm Suguru Geto," he said, his voice low and smooth.

"I'm Y/N. Y/N L/N," you replied, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks as he looked at you with a smile. You couldn't believe you were standing next to him, the man you've admired from afar for so long.

"Would you like to dance Y/N?" Suguru asked, his voice low and filled with admiration as he looked at you. His dark hair fell over his intense gaze, making you feel like the only person in the room.

"Me?" You stuttered, taken aback by his request. The Suguru Geto, known for his aloofness and cold demeanor, was asking you to dance with him at this fancy party. And to make it even more surprising, no one else was dancing.

With a nod, Suguru stepped closer to you. "Of course you, who else?" His hand reached out to gently rest on your back as he led you towards the dance floor.

As the music continued to play, Suguru's hand moved from your back to intertwine with yours. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as he led you to the dance floor, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The steamy tension between the two of you was palpable as you swayed to the music, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

He turned you to face him, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, making your heart race even faster. His hand clasped yours tightly, his fingers entwined with yours as he put his other hand on your back, pulling you close to him. You couldn't help but inhale sharply as you felt his cold palms touch your skin, the contrast between his cool touch and the warmth of his body sending your senses into overdrive.

As you looked away, you noticed people beginning to stare at the two of you, their eyes filled with curiosity and perhaps a hint of envy. But you were too lost in the moment, too entranced by Suguru's touch and the way his eyes seemed to burn into yours, to care about anyone else. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you became acutely aware of the intense gaze he had fixed on you.

And then, as if he could sense your discomfort, he spinned you around, his hand on your back guiding your movements as he pulled you even closer. Your dress flowed slightly as he moved, his eyes never leaving yours. And then, with a mischievous smile on his face, he leaned in close and whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Ignore them," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded as you continued to dance in a slow pace, others beginning to join you aswell. Before you knew it most of the people at the party where dancing along with their partners. Smiles and giggles filled the room.

You were smiling at Suguru, your heart beating with excitement as he spun you around on the dance floor. Suddenly, you felt yourself being snatched away from his grasp, and your eyes landed on your fiancée’s face that was full of anger.

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at Suguru, who was standing there staring at you and Satoru. Raising his eyebrows, Satoru cocked his head towards his best friend and said, “So we’re letting other men touch you now?”

You scoffed at his possessiveness as he placed his hand on your back, his nails scratching your skin as he pulled you close. You could feel his muscles tense as you danced with him, maintaining eye contact in defiance. “So now you want to start paying attention to me after I’m seen dancing with another guy?” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. As you spun around, your hands extended outwards, and he did a half turn, pulling you back against his chest as you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

Even though you were dancing with his best friend, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your fiancée's touch. His strong arms wrapped around you, his breath on your neck, and the way he effortlessly moved with you made it hard to resist.

"Your my fiancée," he said, his voice low and filled with desire. As he leaned in closer, you could feel his hot breath on the back of your head, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. "And he's my best friend," he added, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes.

"And? You were off with Asami doing god knows what," you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned away from him. But he quickly grabbed your arm and spun you back around to face him. His hands trailed over your body, causing shivers to run down your spine as you fought to keep your composure. But the music and the buzz of the party seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the middle of the dance floor.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes scanned over your dress and back to your eyes.

"No, disgusted," you spat back, narrowing your eyes at him. But he didn't seem fazed, his smirk only growing wider.

"After all, you are just a man," you added, pushing yourself away from him and walking towards the restroom. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away, and you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder to see him standing there, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

But your eyes quickly landed on Suguru, who was standing off to the side, watching you with a mixture of longing. You gave him a small smile before turning back to the hallway.

Sighing, you walked towards the ladies room and to the sink, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. You turned on the faucet, the sound of the rushing water a soothing background noise. As you washed your hands, you couldn't help but glance up at your reflection in the mirror.

But as you turned around to leave, you bumped into someone, causing their purse to fall to the ground. Immediately, you bent down to pick it up, dusting it off gently before handing it back to the person.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-" you began to apologize, but quickly stopped as you saw the familiar smile on Asami's face. Your annoyance with her grew as you realized she was probably enjoying this encounter. She scanned her eyes all over you, making you feel exposed and uncomfortable.

"It's okay," she said, her voice almost sing-song as she watched you with a pout. You couldn't help but narrow your eyes at her, your annoyance evident in the way your eyebrows twitched. But before you could say anything, she smiled again and turned to you, tilting her head slightly.

"Y/n?" She called out, her voice almost teasing. You turned to her, your expression still showing your irritation. But she didn't seem to care as she continued to smile at you, her head tilted to the side in a playful manner. It was clear that she was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you couldn't help but feel annoyed at her childish behavior.

"I'm so happy you don't mind that Satoru promoted me to take over your spot in the office," Her lips curled into a smile almost sadistic. Your expression went from annoyed to disbelief as you realized that she was reveling in your misery.

"Y'know, I really did like being his Assistant but now that he promoted me, I can be with him more often..." she paused, stepping closer and tilting her head, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "And maybe be even promoted as an associate!" she chirped, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

Clasping her hands together, she waited for you to speak up. But instead, you chuckled, licking your lips as you stared at her, the anger and disgust rising in your throat. "So this is what gets you off?" you said, lowering your eyes and looking at her with disgust.

"Huh?" she replied, stunned at what you were saying.

"Do you enjoy seeing me annoyed? Do you get pleasure from making me mad?" You scoffed, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms. The music of the party was muffled and the sounds of people talking outside could be heard, but all you could focus on was Asami's twisted enjoyment at your expense.

"Asami, you're nothing but a burden to me," You sneered your eyes cold and calculating. Asami's smile faltered for a split second before she began to laugh at you. The sound was shrill and mocking, causing a chill to run down your spine.

But then, Asami's laughter stopped abruptly and she stepped closer to you. "Is that what you really think?" she asked, her lips twitching into a sly smile. "That I'm a burden to you?" Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and you could see the anger burning in her eyes. "Well, Y/N, let me tell you something. I am not a burden. In fact, I am your worst fucking nightmare."

"You're just another weak and pathetic girl who thinks she can take my place in Satoru's life." She took another step closer, until your faces were only inches apart. "But let me make one thing clear, Y/N. Satoru will never love you like he loved me. And I will make sure that you suffer for trying to take him away from me."

Asami's breath was hot and putrid, and you couldn't help but gag at the smell. But she seemed to revel in your discomfort, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "And now, with you carrying his child, you are even more of a burden to him. He will never be able to fully commit to you because of that," she sneered, her words like daggers in your heart.

"Really, Asami?" You said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you were just a pathetic ex who couldn't move on." Asami's eyes narrowed at the insult. "But I see now that you're not just pathetic, you're also delusional." Your words were like daggers, and you could see them hitting their mark as Asami's expression twisted in anger.

"You know what, Y/N?" Asami said through gritted teeth. "You may think you have some sort of power over me because you're pregnant with Satoru's baby, but you're wrong." Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of her pregnancy, but she refused to show any reaction.

You couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. "Honey, you couldn't even handle a day in my shoes," you said confidently. "But hey, if you want to try and make my life a living hell, go ahead. I could use a good laugh." Asami's face turned red with rage, but she couldn't come up with a response.

Before she could say anything someone else walked in, breaking the small argument between you and Asami, smiling you walked passed her and out of the restroom just to be met with the face of Suguru. You looked stunned, he followed you all the way here?

Pushing past him he grabbed your arm, stopping you from walking away, “Y/N, wait,”

“I want you to work by my side,” he said taking the card out and handing it to you.

“Just call me,” He said before smiling at you and excusing himself.

You fidgeted with the card, feeling the rough material before turning and watching Suguru go back into the party.

taglist: @ryumurin @h0neysiba @satoruontopofme @nerdiellers @iaminyourfloors @aleigant @stariiesz

[pedropascallme]

Here Below

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!Reader

Summary: "He wasn’t used to need like this, the type that came with consequences less physical and more emotional."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) canon typical violence and lots of it, threatening language, angst, mentions of cannibalism, age gap obviously (Cooper is canon 200+ years old; reader is written as early 20s), loss of virginity, Coop’s got a thing for corruption, masturbation (m), oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v sex, dom/sub dynamics, biting, dacryphilia, like one (1) spank, so much dirty talk, degradation, praise, brief mention of anal, multiple orgasms what's a refractory period, creampie, phonetic spelling of Cooper's accent because I can, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: And here's part two!! Part one here!!

When he was young, Cooper had a mantra; live long, live well, live forever.

The idea of fading into nothing was horrifying enough to keep him up at night even when he wasn’t yet old enough to write his name legibly in crayon. So he became something—made something of himself, and carved out a lasting legacy in his career and in his daughter.

And where was she?

Where did the time go?

There was a cavity in his chest the size of his fist. It hollowed and cracked the longer he lived, and he knew he’d become a shell of the man he once was. Surviving didn’t cut it; the more time he spent in the wastes, the more often he considered fading into what he was so afraid of once upon a time.

But you were warm. Your cheek pressed against Cooper’s chest in a manner that looked uncomfortable; you sagged into him, sliding gently up and down the fabric of his shirt as you took soft breaths in your sleep. He felt it a priority to stay upright, to breathe softly and let his eyes dart ceaselessly around the cavernous building with its too high ceilings and echoey walls. To keep you comfortable. To keep you safe.

To keep you alive.

Because there was life in you, unlike any he’d been able to conjure up for himself. You were so unbelievably fucking willful, so optimistic in the face of end times. And even when you lost that optimism, the fear that you expressed was never selfish.

They had your face. You don’t have a name. I don’t want it to happen to you.

Cooper felt another bit break off from the hole inside his chest as he recalled your tears.

But when he looked at you now, frozen in unconscious bliss, the occasional twitch of your brow as you dreamed, he dared to consider the possibilities.

He wasn’t used to need like this, the type that came with consequences less physical and more emotional.

He wrapped an arm around you, muttering into the darkness about how you’d fall off of him if you kept slipping down the way you were, searching for an excuse for the action he knew was meant to ground himself.

That wasn’t to suggest that your presence offered no biological effects. Daily you found ways to make life more difficult, his pants tighter, and daily he thought about showing you what you did to him—over and over and over again.

He would never get over the image of you, nude from the waist down, choking on the syllables of his name as you made yourself cum. And he never wanted to forget it; you, so pretty and naïve, allowing for such corruption under his watch, glowing under his praise and keening at his demands.

He felt himself throb, the sore tip of his cock leaking enough to create a mark on the fabric of his pants. Despite the depravity of it all, he reckoned his only options were to take care of himself or walk stiff all throughout the next day.

He also knew that it was the depravity that really did it for him.

He took off his gloves; while the leather usually did just fine for him, he craved something more tender, more human. Carefully, with the hand not burdened by the weight of your head on him, he undid his belt, popping the button on his trousers and inching the zipper down. He reached into his boxers, pulling his length free and groaning softly at the relief he felt shoot through him. His cockhead, swollen and red from lack of attention, leaked with his arousal. His skin was hot, radiating lust as he wrapped a fist around himself, trying his best to leave you undisturbed as you stayed snoring softly on his shoulder.

Even in the fading light of the fire, he could see his fist, scarred and barely human, juxtaposed with the still peachy-tan skin of his cock. The irony of the one part he had that still looked the most unchanged being the one that gave him the most grief wasn’t lost on him, but he sighed, ignoring the mental gymnastics he was trying to perform and instead focusing on the squeeze of his hand around his erection.

He let himself fall into fantasy, imagining your hands, uncalloused and smooth, stroking him. He hesitated with each brush over his length, trying to encapsulate your willingness and uncertainty, your eagerness to please and your curiosity of his anatomy fighting with your lack of experience. Cooper mumbled to himself, the pleasure giving him the confidence to be unrestrained even with you pressed to his side, and imagined what he’d say if it were you: “Gentle like’at, sweetheart. Give it a squeeze, don’t forget the tip, there. How ‘bout you take a taste, baby—wrap them pretty lips ‘round my cock and lap up what I give ya. Wanna see ya take it all.”

His head fell back, ashamed but so greatly enjoying the mental image. He thought of you, spread in front of him and bucking your hips, struggling to fit two of your fingers into your cunt, and a gruff moan ripped from his throat as he pictured you in the same position, your fingers replaced with his cock as you begged for more, fighting to take him past the tip.

Your hands. Your lips. Your tongue. Your cunt. He wanted all of you, helpless underneath him as he showed you the ropes, crying out your want and your satisfaction. He wanted to corrupt you, ruin you for anybody else, and then some.

He tightened his grip, slowly stroking from base to tip and manipulating his wrist to bob over the head of his cock, forcing him to arch his back and let out a raspy groan of your name.

His jostling roused you from your sleep, and you sighed, blinking your eyes in the dark at the silhouette of his cock.

He didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t care, but your eyes stayed glued to him. The way he released himself to trail fingers up the underside of his cock, dropping lower to cup his balls before taking hold of his length once more to fuck his fist. His moans were choked back, clearly in an effort to keep you undisturbed, but they were beautiful nonetheless as they joined the sound of dry friction of his cock against his palm.

You tilted your head back, still comfortable on his torso, nestled into his stomach. You looked up at his face, his eyes almost closed, mouth open and panting. He looked back at you, and for a split second he looked scared, caught in the act. But when your lips parted, the ghost of a smile on your mouth as you blinked up at him, he slowed his hand, the unease fading.

“Y’want me t’stop, I will, darlin’,” his breathing was labored, his fist sinking down to the base of his cock, “Say th’word.”

“No,” your voice croaked with sleep, but the zeal was still present in your dismissal. “Keep going…show me.”

He sighed, resuming a steady pace. “Voyeuristic li’l thing, huh?”

“You started it.” You squeezed your thighs together, still sticky with the residue of your own self-pleasure session. “Wanna see how you do it.”

Cooper hummed, clenching his cock. “Y’gonna tell me ‘f’I do it wrong, same way I told you?”

“No. I’m gonna watch and learn,” you purred, letting your hand wander over his thigh, “So that I can do it right for you.”

“Christ, girl,” he groaned, hips stuttering into his hand, “Give a man a heart attack.”

“Mhm,” you smiled, skin heating up at the sound of his voice.

“Y’wanna take a turn?” He removed his hand once more, “Be my guest, sweetheart.”

Now your confidence faltered, unsure of where to go from here; did you know enough? Had the few moments you’d spent watching him fist his cock been enough to get it right? And was there even a right way to do it?

But this is what you wanted. Far from what you could’ve imagined in the darkness of your bedroom, this moment now was what you wanted; the whispers and dim light, tile floor sticking to the exposed skin of your back as your shirt rode up, stars fading into daylight in the sky—it didn’t matter that it wasn’t romantic by vault standards.

It was him.

“I—will you tell me how?” You whispered, “The way you did before?”

He chuckled, but it was drenched in lust. “Aw, what’s wrong, darlin’? Think those pretty hands won’be able to hold onto all o’that?” His cock bounced against his stomach, and you whimpered. “I’ll tell ya how I like it, baby, don’ you worry.”

The reassurance he offered, or perhaps more so the way he said it, made you squirm next to him; you rocked your hips against nothing, thighs pressed together tightly and begging the floor for some type of alleviation from the ache.

He watched you move, your futile attempt to get yourself off making his cock stand even more erect. He reached out, guiding one of your legs over his in a weak attempt to help you straddle his thigh. You nuzzled closer against him, bucking your hips and feeling the fabric of your pants bunch up over your legs.

“Now, gimme that hand,” he beckoned, and you lifted your hand to him. He took your wrist in his own hand, squeezing gently to encourage your fingers to relax open, and then licking a thick stripe up your palm. “Put it where’ya want.”

Saturated with his spit, you let your hand fall over his crotch, ghosting over his cock before taking the initiative to grasp onto the length. It was warm, throbbing and soft despite the taut pull of skin. You let out an inquisitive gasp, and Cooper had to dig his nails into the tile of the floor to keep from cumming the moment your hand made contact with him.

“Fuckin’ soft,” he groaned, “Sweet hands, darlin’. C’mon ‘n show me what’cha got.”

You stroked him leisurely, watching your hand run over every inch. You quickly learned to pay attention to the tip, and he bucked his hips into your fist when you moved your wrist over him just so.

“Tha’s’it—fuck me—jus’ like that, good fuckin’ lord,” he couldn’t stop running his mouth, unable to hide the pleasure he was getting out of your movements. “Sweet li’l girl knows her way ‘round a cock.”

You ground your hips into his thigh, not caring that the denim of the pants you wore dug awkwardly into your crotch. Giving him pleasure made you feel powerful, and made you equally as, if not more so, turned on as he was.

“Just doing what you tell me,” you squeezed him at the base of his cock before slowly moving your hand upwards until you got to his cockhead, turning your wrist and then repeating the motion.

“Y’like doin’ what I tell ya t'do, sweetheart?” He let his head drop to his shoulder, eyes shut and mouth open when he felt your thumb brush over his leaking tip.

“Yeah, Coop,” you liked seeing him this way—zero inhibitions and focused on you, trusting you with his body and letting you provide for him, for once. “Love it.”

“Fuck,” he groaned out, his hand coming up to grasp at your face, eyes opening to meet your gaze, “Say it again f’me, baby. Whole thing.”

“I love it, Cooper,” you mewled, leaning into his touch and moving your fist more rapidly over him now. “Love doing what you tell me to do.”

“Damn fuckin’ right, you do,” he growled, knitting his brow in appreciation of your ministrations, “Got you humpin’ me like a fuckin’ whore, one li’l taste of my cock ‘nd you’ll do anythin’ I fuckin’ say.”

“Yeah,” you whined, needy and unfamiliar with the want that you were experiencing. You couldn’t have denied it even if you had wanted to, eagerly grinding against him and letting his words push at your core. “Anything.”

“So work that fuckin’ hand ‘n make me cum, girl,” his jaw was clenched as he barked his words, body clamoring to focus on his immanent high. “Know y’got it in ya, sweetheart, lemme give y’what’cha want.”

“Want—wanna put my mouth on you,” you didn’t know why the thought occurred to you then, thinking back to things the older girls had spoken about doing in hushed voices at the back of classrooms, but you let it slip out into the jumble of moans already falling from your lips. You dug your face into his collar, “Please.”

“Won’t stop ya, sweetheart,” he had to clench his fist to keep himself from spilling into your hand; the image of you begging to blow him could've been enough to do him in completely.

You fell over yourself trying to get onto your hands and knees in front of him. There was a thrill in experiencing something of this nature without being shown how to do it first, and you were eager to please now; to show off for him and have him talk you through every flick of your tongue.

You lowered your face against his cock, feeling how the warmth of his skin seeped into your cheek, the sweet smell of sex flooding your senses. Your fingers traced over him, gentle and patient, as you sized him up and decided where to go from here.

You kitten-licked his cockhead, and he hissed, forcing a hot wisp of breath through his teeth.

“Tha’s it,” he was white-knuckling his thigh, trying to avoid looking directly at you for fear that he would cut the scene short. “Don’ be shy, now.”

You took his rasp in stride, taking the entirety of his tip into your mouth, tongue dancing circles around his length and savoring the bitterness of what leaked from him. He placed a hand on the back of your head, not adding any pressure, simply a gesture of goodwill, and what you could have.

“Mhm,” you moaned, mouth full of him. You reached for his hand and encouraged him to tangle his fingers in your hair. When he tugged at the roots, you whimpered, slipping down his length slowly, trying to hollow your cheeks and let all of him in.

“Fuckin’ desperate, ain’t’cha,” Cooper panted, fingers laced through your hair and moving along with you, “Mouth full’a my cock—y’enjoyin’ yourself, sweetheart? Workin’ at it, li’l slut that y’are?”

You groaned around him, pushing yourself further until you choked, pulling back to splutter as drool pooled over your lower lip and dripped down your chin. He wiped you off, rubbing your spit over his cock and fisting himself as he spoke.

“Y’wanna keep goin’?” He still had one hand in your hair, pulling you back to look at him while he drawled, “Gaggin’ and droolin’ like that, y’still want more?”

“Yes,” you heaved, lungs on fire and throat sore, but still so full of need for him, “Please, let me finish.”

That earned a sharp laugh, “Think ya mean let me finish,” he removed his hand from his cock, wiping the remaining spit on your cheek, slapping at your face softly. “Open wide, sweetheart, lemme fuck that pretty mouth o’yours.”

You did as you were told, breathing through your nose and letting him thrust deep down your throat. Despite it all, he remained gentle—by his standards, at least. Gaze focused on you and any tell-tale sign of discomfort, laser focused on the way tears sprung up on your lash line and how deep he had to go to make them fall over your cheeks; making you gag but not making you suffocate.

You felt like you were on cloud nine; his stare made you feel safe, a watchful gaze over you as you wrapped your lips around his thick shaft and let your tongue roam the veins on the underside of his cock. He was gentle enough, but not overly so—a perfect medium for your first experience of this kind.

“Y’gonna take it, baby?” He huffed, veins on his temples popping beneath scarred skin, “Take it in that hot fuckin’ mouth? Swallow my fuckin’ load, good girl that’cha’re?”

You let out a happy gasp, desperate to taste him, let him coat your throat with everything he had to offer you. You found one of your hands coming to cup his balls, tempted by the downy, pillowy skin and the way they moved in your palms.

When you gave them a squeeze, all bets were off for Cooper.

He held you by the scalp, roaring out his orgasm as he stuttered against your mouth.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he eased you off his cock, watching you lick your lips and gather any of his spend that escaped the confines of your mouth before you swallowed.

It was bitter, and it lingered. You coughed again, making a face.

“Tastes weird,” you complained, wiping the corners of your mouth with your thumb. You stayed between his legs, still happy to play with his softening length and lap up any cum you hadn’t gotten to on time.

“Were y’expectin’ lemonade?” He panted, groaning at the way you licked at his cock. He pulled you up, letting you settle back into the spot you’d been sleeping in earlier by his side. “Reminds me, though,” he shuffled, tucking himself back into his pants and rummaging through a deep pocket for something. “C’mere, darlin’.”

He uncapped a syringe of something, and you shuddered.

“Not until you tell me what that is…”

“RadAway,” he cocked a brow, “My swimmers look jus’ like me, sweetheart. Don’t want ya getting’ sick cause I couldn’t keep it in m’pants.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes in jest and offering him your arm.

“Good girl,” he punctured you with the needle, and you tried not to dwell on the way the penetration paralleled the way he’d pushed into your throat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, rubbing the spot where the needle had intruded and leaning against him.

“Should be thankin’ you,” he mused, throwing the syringe off into the dark somewhere. “Perfect fuckin’ mouth on you—when y’ain’t complainin’.”

“Just gonna have to fuck it next time I start talking too much,” you nudged him with your shoulder, getting comfortable as you readjusted into your spot.

He grunted in approval, snaking an arm around you.

“It’s my turn to keep watch,” you whispered, eyes droopy as the adrenaline you’d been running on began to crash.

“Go back t’sleep, y’irradiated li’l thing,” he smirked, “Don’t want’cha slowin’ us down tomorrow.”

~~~

You made a game out of avoiding the skeletonized remains of what once was while you walked through the waste. You tried to identify what bone you were looking at, who or what it might’ve belonged to.

The skulls were easy, it was the short bones that made the game difficult for you.

But it made the time pass faster, although you’d realized that over the course of the several weeks you’d been accompanying the Ghoul, time mattered less and less in the grand scheme of things. The sun rose and it set and then it rose again; you had nowhere to be and nothing to anchor you anywhere.

Not nothing, you shook the thought from your mind.

Cooper walked several steps ahead of you. He’d become more and more willing to let you out of his sight on the treks you undertook through the sand, though when the sky went dark, he still maintained vigil over you.

Maybe it was just that he didn’t care, but you liked to think it was a matter of trust and perhaps even confidence in your ability to survive.

He still walked beside you often, especially when you got chatty and he had full vials in his pockets.

That just made you think it was more so a matter of him trusting himself to stand by you.

Admittedly, you’d been quieter in the days since you’d left the abandoned mall. There was less effort put into small talk on both your part and his—and you knew it had mostly to do with your own racing thoughts, but you questioned his reasoning.

You hadn’t been able to bring it up. Any of it—from putting yourself on display to encouraging his own debauchery. You were unsure of whether or not it was even appropriate to talk about now that it was over.

Was it over?

He’d made no effort to mention it, either. Whether that meant he, too, was constantly mulling it over, or if he simply didn’t care, you couldn’t tell. You could never really tell with him. You just knew his gaze lingered more often, and that his hand wandered down the small of your back even when there was nowhere to guide you. It wasn’t unwelcome—not in the slightest; you basked in his attention, even when it meant being on the receiving end of off-color jokes about your survival skills or your time in the vaults. But you wanted him to be the one to acknowledge what had happened, to corner you with the reality and make you confront it head on.

Because if you brought it up, there would be no proof that he cared, too.

Not to mention, you liked seeing him take control in ways that didn’t involve killing anybody.

Cooper could hear you pause occasionally, muted footprints over the sand coming to a halt so that you could analyze another skeleton. He’d noticed your game, thought it was cute, even, that you’d managed to become some kind of expert in desert decay, but he stayed quiet out of the worry that him pointing it out would embarrass you.

That, and every time he spoke to you now, he could only imagine the drag of your hand down his cock, even after several days of trying to will away the mental image.

He swallowed dryly, spitting the sand from his mouth, and the cynicism with it. 

Truth be told, he had no regrets; including becoming the face of the corporation that would end life on earth as he knew it; including shilling himself as some kind of glorified party clown; including keeping the hat he still wore after 200 years.

So it wasn’t regret that kept him from opening his mouth now, but a strong sense of trepidation.

He had gotten so used to brothel whores and quick back ally fucks, and he tried to tell himself the worry lied in the notion that he’d gone too far, too fast. You were new to the world in so many ways, new to pleasures of the flesh, and part of him felt as though he had taken something away from you despite the eager consent he’d received. While he certainly enjoyed defiling you, showing you the way around your pleasure and his own—and knew that you enjoyed it, too—he felt, in the back of his mind, that he certainly shouldn’t have liked it as much as he did.

But more than the anxiety that came with corrupting you (which, in actuality, he was more than somewhat proud of) the real dread centered around the power you had over him. That wasn’t new, he recognized; you had, for as long as you’d been with him, been able to get your way. He was a weak-willed old man, he probably knew that more than you did. But in this respect, with your new ability to reject him outright—to tell him what had happened would never happen again—he couldn’t bring himself to give you the opportunity, fearing that if he opened his mouth, you would shut him down.

He’d tasted the forbidden fruit, and to be cast out of Eden would be an experience that he would, in fact, come to regret, despite himself.

Cooper tried to hide the angst he felt at the scenario of his own creation as he walked onwards.

“S’a radius,” he called over his shoulder to you, still stooped on your knees to find the bone’s hidden mysteries. “Human one.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, “Thought I finally found a deathclaw.”

“’Y'won't find a deathclaw, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “It'll find you. 'N them shits don’t die without a hell’f’a fight.” He stopped in his tracks to wait on you, watching as you trudged through the sand.

“The whole point of the game is that I have to figure it out by myself,” you huffed, the attitude in your voice only a half-conscious decision—you were bothered by his seeming lack of awareness around the tension that hung between the two of you, but you were also tired and hot. “Gotta start over now…”

“Could’a told me. Didn’ know there was rules to it,” he smirked, blissfully, or not, unaware that the turmoil in your mind paralleled his own, “Won’t ruin your fun no more, darlin’.”

“It’s fine,” you grumbled, purposefully kicking up dust in your wake. “You probably know more about skeletons than I do.” You conceded, trying to lose your edge and make friends again.

“Nah, don’t sell y’self short, there,” he tilted his head at you, the brim of his hat hiding his eyes momentarily before he poked it up with a gloved hand. “Y’self taught—real life Einstein.”

“Who?”

He cringed. “Not a lotta science classes down in th’vaults, huh?”

“We had science,” you defended your upbringing, not for the first time, and likely not for the last.

“He was a scientist,” Cooper sighed, “Told Roosevelt to build th’bombs. Smart guy.” He looked around aimlessly, “Not a lot o’foresight.”

“The bombs?” You cringed, not enjoying the comparison he’d made between you and someone who might’ve been behind the landscape you looked at now.

“No,” he shook his head, “Earlier’n that.” He fished a vial from his pocket, taking a sip of the contents. “Gotta get ya’a history lesson.”

“I’ll be fine with you teaching me everything,” you scoffed, “Fast learner, remember?” The words jumped off your tongue faster than you could swallow them, and you shifted uncomfortably, waiting for a response.

Cooper just laughed, hoping you couldn’t hear his nerves. “That y’are, sweetheart.”

He started walking again, and you followed suit, kicking yourself for your slip-up and promising yourself that you wouldn’t bring it up again unless he did.

“How do you know so much about bones?” You tried to bring the initial conversation back to its roots.

“Broken a lot of ‘em. Guess I jus’ know a lot about death.”

“But not dying…”

“Never that.” He cracked the knuckles on one of his hands, and you felt curiosity gnawing at you.

“Cooper,” you started, easing into the subject, and giving yourself time to flake out of it, “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” He grunted.

“Old enough…?”

“To be your granddaddy three times over,” he didn’t do the math, just ballparking it.

“Old enough to remember—”

“Yes.” He cut you off, “Not that I like t’dwell on it.”

“Yeah,” you offered a curt nod, immediately regretting trying to bring it up, “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he breathed, “Jus’ not what I’d call a fun memory.”

“Mm,” you pursed your lips.

There was a straight minute of silence before he filled the gap.

“Had a dog,” he mused, suddenly smiling again.

“Really?” The idea of the man next to you caring for a living creature without getting anything in return made you want to laugh—then again, he was taking care of you, wasn’t he?

And you hadn’t been bait in days.

“Really,” he nodded, “Good dog, sweet thing. He followed me everywhere.”

“Like me?” You laughed.

“No,” he turned to you with a wicked grin, “Dog listened.”

“I could probably shake hands if you asked me to,” you shot back with a smile, and he barked a laugh. “Dogs aren’t allowed in the vaults—no pets. No animals.”

“Damn shame…” His response was flat, like he was trying to ignore your words without sounding rude.

God, he missed that dog.

When the thrill of the conversation wore off, you walked along in silence again. The tension was still present, but there was comfort alongside it. But something nipped at your heels, lingering in the back of your mind.

Cooper cracked the knuckles of his other hand.

“How much longer?” You asked, staring straight ahead.

“What?” He eyed you in his peripheral.

“How much longer will you know about death but not about dying?” You looked at your feet, watching the sand make room for every step beneath you.

He stopped walking, sucking his teeth. “You still worried ‘bout what’cha saw back there?” His voice was empty of any emotion, but his face read as concerned.

“I—not so much the ferals but the, uh…” Out of nowhere, there were tears in your eyes, “Don’t really know what I’d do without you.” It was the closest thing to admitting your reliance on him that you’d uttered in all your time together.

“Sweetheart,” he cupped your elbow in his hand, and the subtle display of affection made the tears roll down your cheeks faster. “Y’ain’t gotta worry ‘bout it.” Whether you recognized it or not, he was swearing his allegiance. “’M in it for the long run—til ya get sick of me.” He smirked, still so uncertain of what to do when you got like this that he ran to humor first, “Specially cause I dunno what you’d do without me, either.”

You laughed through quiet sobs, and when he swept you against his chest into what might’ve been meant as a hug, the tears ceased. You felt his hand on your back, thumb rubbing over your shirt.

“You’d be so bored without me.” You sniffled, trying to match his witticisms.

“Yeah,” he tilted his head down to look at you, “Prob’ly right.” He kept you near him even after you’d stopped crying, enjoying the way you moved against his chest with every shaky breath you took. He fished a vial from his pocket with the hand that wasn’t cradling you, “Told ya, ‘s’long as we got these, we’re fine.” He didn’t know why he was saying ‘we’ as opposed to ‘I,’ a subconscious decision that had him projecting you into every aspect of his life—he wasn’t mad about it. And neither were you.

You dragged your cheek along his chest as you craned your neck to look at the vial.

“Cooper,” you whispered.

“Mhm?”

“That vial’s almost empty.”

“Well,” he huffed, “Was hopin’ y’wouldn’t notice that.”

“Einstein.” You mumbled against him as he popped the vial back into his pocket. “Can we get more?”

“S’where we’re goin’,” he informed you, and you peeled yourself off of him to the reluctance of both of you.

You walked side by side, knocking shoulders in silence.

~~~

“C’mon, few more steps—be a big girl ‘bout it,” you had fallen behind him, dragging your feet and letting your shoulders droop in the heat, and Cooper delighted in your obvious fatigue. “Don’t drop dead on me.”

“Free meal for you,” you tried to scoff but it quickly morphed into a yawn. Your skin was tight with sunburn and you felt exhaustion in the deepest recesses of your bones, but you were still awake enough to match his energy to a degree.

“Wouldn’ eat ya, darlin’,” he smirked, and it wasn’t a lie; he didn’t at all want to eat you, at least not in the manner you had implied. “Too sweet.”

“Yeah, I bet,” you muttered, “probably just taxidermy me, carry me around so you don’t get lonely.”

“Now, that is exactly what I had in mind,” he whistled, “How’d ya know?”

He coughed, stooping over with hands on his knees and blinking rapidly a few times to collect himself.

“Are we close?” You quickly grew tired of teasing him, acutely aware of how the muscles in your thighs tensed with each step, and how quickly he would deteriorate if he stayed without whatever was in those vials any longer.

“Close t’what, sweetheart?” He smiled, still happy to poke fun at you despite your disinterest.

“Wherever—vials…anywhere.” You yawned again.

“How is it’at someone who sleeps so goddamn much can’t stay awake more’an a few hours at a time?” He watched your mouth as you stifled another tired sigh.

“How is it that someone with no nose still manages to be so nosy?” You snapped back, smiling at the way his eyes widened.

“Woo. Down, girl,” he tsked, curling his lip. “I got a place in mind, ‘f’you would just hurry it up.”

You grumbled at him, picking up your pace to meet his stride. The setting sun offered respite to your weary bones, soft breeze pushing against the sweaty skin of your back. The Ghoul whistled, tuneless but beautiful, and with every few steps you let your eyes close for just a second.

You momentarily forgot about how tired you were, pleased to simply be in his presence.

“There ya go,” he pointed a gloved hand towards the horizon, and you followed it to see a building that looked to be more sand than structure.

“There’s stuff in there?”

“Stuff everywhere,” he took on a mocking tone, hearing the dismay in your voice that you’d failed to hide. “Don’t’cha trust me, sweetheart?” He smiled, and your gaze bounced from his lips to his eyes.

“I do,” you admitted aloud for the first time, and you saw a flash of something in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but you continued; “Just seems a little…sad…”

“It ‘n’everything else up here,” he sighed. “C’mon.”

You shuffled along with him, and the building became clearer as you approached. 

It wasn’t a house; you could tell that much. There were no visible signs that it had been used as a living space for at least a few decades. Broken glass and lack of amenities aside, you could see rows of shelves and what looked like a counter, and you recognized it as—or what had once been—a pharmacy.

You tripped over the piles of sand that had blown into the entrance, grabbing the outer brick wall to steady yourself. Cooper came up behind you, steady on his feet despite the terrain.

“Ye olde apothecary,” He sniffed, spitting in the sand, “Y’believe me now?” He walked past you, raising his arms as if to expect a welcome from the empty store.

“Never said I didn’t,” you leaned against the empty doorframe as you watched him strut through the aisles. You raised a brow, “Where’s your medicine, Coop?”

He waved you off, shooing you with a hand thrown over his shoulder as he walked towards the counter in the back. He was moving slower, as if to downplay any pain he felt, to rest his surely weary bones. You sighed, following him.

“Stashed some shit in here, few months ago—carryin’ too much,” he jumped over the counter, trying to hide the way he winced when his feet hit the floor.

“How do you know nobody took it while you were gone?” You challenged.

“Ain’t nobody gonna be dumb enough to steal my shit.” He grumbled.

“How would they know it was yours?”

He ignored you as he shucked his duster and ammo belt, tossing them to the ground. He sighed in relief, the extra pounds of fabric and metal no longer a hindrance to him in his weakened state. He began to rummage through moldy cardboard boxes, “It’ll be here. Had to dump it somewhere I knew. Didn’t trust myself t’savor it.”

“Tastes that good, huh?” You smiled, maneuvering yourself over the counter to meet him.

“Y’got no idea, darlin’,” he shook his head, elbow deep in a box. He grunted, yanking at something deep, before hauling out a smaller, metal box from the cardboard. “There y’are.” He kissed the tin, and you rolled your eyes.

You let yourself wander a bit further past him, delving into the boxes that were stacked up where you could reach them.

“Got anything else hidden away in here?” You mused, cringing when your hand made contact with something slimy in one of the boxes. You wiped your palm down your jeans.

“Maybe…” He thought, still fiddling with the tin in his hands, “Guns, ammo somewhere, probably.”

You moved on to another box and found a pistol packaged away in a rag. You swiped it, trying to push it into your belt loops as a makeshift holster.

“Y’ain’t need one.” He knew what you were doing without even looking your way, still wary of letting you carry a weapon after the feral debacle. “Y’get too in your head.”

“You could teach me how to shoot properly.” You turned to him, offering a shy shrug. “Please?”

“Y’really know how’ta make a man swoon, sweetheart.” He had resorted to banging the top of the tin against the table, unable to find the latch to open it. “Christ—c’mere with’ose pretty li’l fingers ‘f’yers.” He held the case out to you.

You shoved the gun into the depths of your back pocket, walking over and taking the tin. You did what you could, fiddling with the rusty lid and praying that whatever liquid was in the vials inside didn’t begin to seep through as a sign of broken glass. You leveraged your nails beneath the rim of the top and used any remaining strength you had left in you to tug hard.

“I almost got it,” you felt pride, happy to be able to provide for him, and you looked up expectantly.

He wasn’t looking back at you.

He was turned away from you slightly, his head up and eyes darting over the front of the store. He stretched one finger out in front as a signal, telling you to pause, but you continued anyway; separating the halves of the tin with a pop that seemed to echo through the derelict building.

When you heard the bang of the front door swinging open behind you, and the crack of glass beneath boots, you shuddered. He brought his finger to his lips, shushing you. You scrambled to grab the vials in the tin, shoving them into your pocket and hoping they wouldn’t break before you could leave.

You shook your head, trying to apologize, trying to ask him to conceal himself, to fight quick and wordlessly, without his usual flair—not like this, not in his worsening condition. But the wick had been lit; the ferocity in his eyes burned bright, and you knew it was only a matter of time until the powder keg exploded.

You remembered, too late, that his belt was across the room, and with it, his gun.

Someone whistled. Someone else laughed. And you felt utterly helpless—a deer in headlights, with no chance of making it to the other side of the road on time.

“Well,” a man’s voice. “Lookit that. Boys, it appears we’ve found the holy grail.”

You turned, slowly. The Ghoul sucked his teeth.

“Nice t’see ya alive, Jed.” Cooper offered a sardonic greeting. You couldn’t see his face, your back now to him, but you knew he was smiling.

“And well!” Jed laughed.

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Cooper scoffed.

“Always so hospitable,” Jed shook his head, finding his way around the counter with his backup close behind. “Ain’t ya gonna introduce me to your friend, here?” He came close to you, near enough for you to see the dry skin on the tip of his nose and the frayed, twisted ends of his beard. He knocked the open tin from your hands, and it clattered to the ground. Thank god you’d emptied it.

“She’s gotta voice,” Cooper ticked his jaw, “Why don’t y’ask her yourself? Or has it been that long since you’ve gotten a good look at a woman?”

Jed backed off, focusing on Cooper now, and you closed your eyes as if deep in thought or prayer; there was no back exit, not even a hole worn into the wall that you could climb through. The cronies Jed had with him maintained their gaze on you, and you swallowed.

“What’s that now?” Jed leaned in towards Cooper, who remained amused by the situation despite everything.

“I’m sorry, I—I was just wonderin’ ‘f’you’re still as big a pussy now as y’were when I last saw ya.” Cooper tipped his hat to the younger man.

Jed smiled, laughing along with Cooper, before suddenly going deadpan and punching him in the gut. Cooper doubled over, cursing, and you sucked in a sharp breath upon hearing the commotion.

“Now, look,” Jed straightened, “You’ve upset the lady.”

“She’ll live,” Cooper groaned, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You so sure?” Jed countered.

“What is’t ya want, Jed?” Cooper took a long breath, trying to shut down whatever it was that crossed Jed’s mind in that moment, forcing his attention from you. “Or did y’just drop in t’say hi?”

You turned to watch now. Jed’s face went from one of amusement to ire; his mouth dropped with his brow, creasing his face and making him speak with a sneer.

“I want,” he crossed his arms, “to ask you about your trip down to Filly.”

Cooper sighed, and you watched him drop his head as he spoke, hiding his face with his hat. “You wanna ask me ‘bout that brother o’yours.”

“That’s right.” Jed looked red in the face, “I wanna ask you why you think you can play god, Ghoul.” He took his gun from its holster, turning off the safety as he continued his tirade. “I wanna know what the fuck gives you the right to kill any son’bitch that gets between you an’ some caps.” He breathed heavily, mixing his grief with a stronger sense of brutality.

Cooper looked back up, and for a moment he looked almost remorseful—sorry to see a man so torn up about the loss of kin. But the tinge of sympathy didn’t last long.

“He died like a bitch, Jed.” He grinned.

Jed looked ill, like he was unsure of himself, on the verge of tears or vomit. But he pulled the trigger, anyway.

Two shots sounded, and you flinched at each one.

“Well, there—maybe you do have some charm,” Cooper shook his head, still standing, swatting at the holes in his pants where Jed had shot him—once in both legs, “Sure are makin’ me weak in the knees.” You sighed, relieved, but not out of the woods; his tone remained suave, but his voice was cracked at the edges. His jaw was clenched tight, like he was biting back the pain you hoped he couldn’t feel, and you desperately wanted this situation to be put to an end so that you could force the liquid in the vials down his throat yourself.

Jed said nothing, swallowing thickly and turning to his companions. “Don’t kill him—get him tender for me.”

“What about her?” One of the two other men nodded towards you, and you stared back at him.

“Leave her.” The three men turned to Cooper, and you continued your silent surveillance. He looked pale, if that was possible; a greyish tint on what would otherwise be an angry pink.

Jed let out a slow whistle. “I think I found your Achilles heel, friend.” He moved in on you, poking his gun into your back and forcing you to move directly in front of Cooper. His backup approached the Ghoul, and you shuddered in ugly anticipation.

“She’s got nothin’ you want, boy,” the threat came out more pleading than he’d meant, but Cooper stuck to his guns, “Leave her be.”

Jed sneered, and you looked at your feet. “Make sure he can see her while you beat him—‘nd go slow. Wanna make sure we all get a show out of it.”

With his gun still pressed to you, Jed signaled for his friends to take action. You’d never felt more insignificant; in the vaults you had your dreams, in the wastes you had the stars, but now, watching Cooper allow these men to land blow after blow with the intention of maintaining your safety, you felt utterly hopeless.

And though he kept his head up, snarking occasionally when he had enough breath to fuel him, Cooper looked bad; you didn’t think he could bruise, but in the low light of the shop he looked discolored and hurt. You tried to search his face, for a sign or a signal, but he avoided your gaze.

You found yourself wishing you could see another day of empty desert and inherent danger, as long as it was with him—only if it was with Cooper.

Jed moved to push his gun hard against your face, and you wondered if this meant it would be the last time you’d have a pistol aimed at you. You wondered what you could do if you had an opportunity, if you weren’t so defenseless.

The gun.

You felt the cold metal through the thin denim of your jeans, heartrate skyrocketing when you realized the implications of the weight in your pocket.

You’d never shot a gun. Even when he let you carry around that old, beat-up piece, you’d never gotten the opportunity to fire it. But you’d watched Cooper do it hundreds, probably thousands of times.

He flicked the safety, he aimed, he fired.

You could do that. You prayed to anybody that you could do that in this moment, if never hereafter.

With the focus of the hired muscle already on Cooper, you waited for Jed to let his gaze wander; his eyes, emotionless rocks stuck into his skull, leered at you in a manner that made your blood run cold.

But then he turned his head, watching his companions batter the already worse-for-wear Ghoul. You fished the pistol from your pockets, trying to move quickly.

“Think after this we should have ourselves a li’l party, boys. Nice piece of ass like this, shame for it to go to waste before we—”

A shot, loud and tooth-rattling, engulfed you as you pulled the trigger. Jed fell down, dead.

Your hands were shaking. Your entire body was shaking. Your ears were ringing and your head felt cloudy—with fear or rage, you didn’t bother to define it.

“Get out,” you cleared your throat, now pointing the pistol at the two men who loomed over the Ghoul. Despite your trembling, the men seemed uncertain, lost without their leader and unwilling to find out if you were bluffing. “Get out!” You doubled down, encouraging them to lose their nerve. You watched as they backed away, hands raised in surrender, scooting around the counter and quickly running out the door.

You gasped for air, feeling faint and almost buzzed, before shoving the gun onto a shelf and moving to fold yourself over Cooper.

He was lying flat on the floor, a bit dazed, but not bloodied—you shoved aside the curiosity that popped up in your head, begging the question if he even had blood. His hat had been knocked off and now lay several feet from him. He was smirking at you like he had not a care in the world.

“Look at you,” he coughed, ragged and chesty, and you fished a vial from your pocket. “My little killer.”

“Shut up, Cooper,” you bit the cap off the vial you’d grabbed and spit it out to the side, forcing his head up and pouring the contents down his throat. He coughed at first, before giving in to your control and swallowing the chem. He wheezed when you’d poured all the vial’s contents out, grabbing your arm and squeezing gently.

“Jesus Christ,” he shook his head, collecting himself, “You’re a goddamn angel, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed in relief, letting your head rest on the linoleum next to his. You stayed like that, sprawled out with your body pressed to him, watching the life come back to his eyes. You let him adjust in the quiet, waiting for the right time to discuss what you considered the highlight of what you’d just endured.

“Leave her be?” You put on a less than stellar impression of him.

“Didn’want that filth touchin’ ya.” He muttered, stretching and unconcerned.

“You don’t seem to have a problem when it’s your filthy hands.” You pointed out, somehow feeling that now was the most appropriate time to bring up what had happened between you days ago. In light of recent events, you didn’t care anymore if you were the one that brought it up.

“Exactly,” He turned his face to look at you, “My filthy hands.” He rested his palm on your stomach, “Mine.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow and stared, taking him in; his color was back, the proper pink, sun kissed flush you’d come to appreciate, and his eyes were still in their sockets; his voice was less raspy, at least compared to how it had been while he was getting the shit kicked out of him, and he was forming real words.

His stupid, shit-eating grin was once again plastered on his lips.

He was ok. He was still Cooper—beautiful, wild, stupidly stubborn Cooper. And you realized that you were still shaking, pent up adrenaline trying to find its way out of your system, squeezing at your heart and clouding your brain.

So you kissed him. You grabbed him by the face and pulled him up to you, crashing your lips to his in a frenzied, out of body manner that left you both panting. You clawed at the back of his collar, fingers dancing over his shoulders and down his chest, and still you wanted more.

You pulled away to take a breath, and Cooper licked his lips, chest heaving.

“Think you should kill more people.” He smiled, running a hand over his head.

“Only if you don’t face the brink of death in the process,” you smiled back, a healthy whirl running through you.

It was comfortable—you were comfortable; by his side and safe again, itching for his attention and knowing it was you and only you who would get it. This is exactly what you’d always wanted.

It was exactly what you wanted.

“Cooper,” you sat up, placing a hand on his chest and fanning your fingers out to grab loosely at the fabric of his shirt, “Show me more.”

He cocked a brow at you, unsure of what you were asking. “Show y’what?”

“Like how you did when you showed me how to curl my fingers,” you shuffled closer to him, hand trailing further down his stomach, “And when you showed me how to use my mouth—I want more, please, I want…” You whined a little, biting your lip so you wouldn’t lose your nerve, “Fuck me.”

He stared up at you, your hand dangerously close to his fly and your eyes looking as pleading as your voice sounded.

You were so beautiful, so genuine and virtuous. And he was already destined for a hell, if there was one.

He grabbed you by the waist, hauling you over him and kissing you again. Your chest pressed against his, legs moving to straddle him and squeeze his waist as he tugged you impossibly close. His hands drifted over the curve of your ass, squeezing so hard he thought he might tear through the denim of your jeans.

He tried to go slower, savor the taste of your tongue and the feel of your body on his, but he gave up the moment you began to grind your hips on top of him.

“Bloodthirsty thing,” he muttered against your lips, “All wound up, huh, sweetheart? One bullet out the chamber ‘nd you need me to fuck it better?”

You let out a whine, and he dragged his tongue against your throat, licking up your neck until he reached your jaw. It gave you enough time to think about his words.

“Wait—Cooper,” you pushed off of him and held him by the collar.

He removed his hands from you, resting them on the floor on either side of his head. “What’s wrong?” He swallowed, trying to subdue the ache and the nerves that flickered through him, “What’cha thinkin’, sweetheart?”

“Dead body,” you hooked a thumb over your shoulder, pointing at the blood-soaked spot where Jed still lay dead.

“Not doin’ it for ya?” The Ghoul smirked, and you frowned down at him.

“Not exactly how I imagined it.”

“Y’want me to get rid of it?” Cooper lifted his head to sneer at the deceased man on the floor. You nodded. “Then I gotta get up, darlin’,” he bit his tongue, taking on a playful tone.

You sighed, weighing your options, before relenting and easing off of him slowly.

He got up with a groan, tilting his head to crack his neck as he walked. He moved to grab his hat and place it back on his head before making his way over to the corpse on the floor. You tried not to pay too much attention to the way Jed’s body lolled around as if boneless when Cooper lifted him and threw him over his shoulder.

“Coop,” you called after him, waiting for him to turn back to you, “Don’t eat him.”

“Got another item on th’menu I’m more interested in samplin’, sweetheart,” he shook his head, walking out. “Smartass.”

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself when he left, hauling the body off somewhere out in the sand. Should you pose? Strip? Both?

You stood, unzipping your pants and letting them pool around your ankles, kicking them off into the corner with the least blood.

“This your way o’tellin’ me I wasn’t goin’ fast enough?” Cooper spoke, leaning against the counter as his eyes trailed up your naked legs. You hadn’t heard him come back in—maybe that was his goal. “Had t’start without me?”

You smiled impishly, biting your lip and peeling off your shirt, throwing it over into the corner where it joined your pants in a heap.

You stood bare and felt as though you must have looked awkward and uncertain, but Cooper clearly felt otherwise as he hopped over the counter again and took hurried steps over to you. You took a step back for every one he took forward, hands clasped behind your back and a mischievous grin on your lips.

Your back hit a wall, cornered, and Cooper drank you in.

“You try’na tease me, baby?” He stuck his tongue out to wet his lower lip before sucking his teeth, his hand coming up to your chin and beckoning your gaze upward to meet his. “Cause it’s workin’.”

“…You’ve got blood on your shirt.” You purred, pressing a finger into a dark spot on the fabric.

Cooper, rather ceremoniously, took off his hat, holding it to his chest. “It ain’t mine…” He let the hat fall from his hands, and you watched it wobble through the air before landing quietly on the floor. The corner of his mouth twitched upward into a faint smile, “I can…take it off ‘nd prove it to ya.”

You nodded eagerly, putting any remaining shame to bed and embracing the urgency of your desires.

He bit the forefinger of his glove, peeling the leather from his hand before tugging off the opposite glove. His fingers were thick, though boney, and looked calloused; strong from decades of roughing it and pulling triggers. You watched them, entranced, as his hands flew to his collar and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Now don’ get all yucked-out,” Cooper mumbled, shucking the shirt off his arms and letting it drop to the floor, “Ain’t what I used to be under these rags.”

You couldn’t do much but stare. His torso looked like the rest of him; angry red and riddled with crossing scars. He was lean, but there was still muscle pushing against the damaged skin of his chest and arms.

You reached out to touch him, and delighted in the fact that he didn’t flinch now or try to grab your wrist. You dragged your knuckles down his front, back and forth over his skin before reaching back up to let your palm rest on his chest.

“I like you the way you are…” You said it like an oath, a promise to him, echoing the sentiment you’d shared after being confronted by the ferals and meaning it now more than ever.

“Don’t go soft on me, sweetheart,” he feigned distaste, but he couldn’t hide the way his body relaxed into your touch, the warmth of your palm becoming some sort of beacon that coaxed him in.

“Thought you’d like me soft…malleable,” you smiled, “I remember you enjoying being able to, uh—to guide me through the motions.”

Cooper bit his tongue, stifling the rumble that began in his chest before it could make its way past his lips. He wanted to eat you whole; lick your skin down to the bone and savor every part of you, hoping he’d be lucky enough to hear you sing his praises. But even he knew there was a line, and he’d never forgive himself if he fucked this up.

He took your hand from his chest, rubbing your palm with his thumb. He was closer now, looming above you with a predatory glint in his eyes, and you found yourself content to be his prey.

“Wanna do things t’ya, darlin’,” he stopped holding his tongue, “Give y’the whole goddamn experience that you deserve.” His thumb stopped moving, and he squeezed your hand. “Y’still trust me?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I trust you.”

“’M gonna go as slow ‘s’ya need me to,” he swallowed, “Gonna make sure y’fuckin’ listen, just like last time—liked taking orders, ain’t that right?” He let go of your hand, reaching up to cup your jaw.

“I like it.” Your eyes fluttered, his fingers dug gently into your skin.

“Atta girl,” his hand trailed down over your collar bone, sweeping his fingers over it once before dropping it further to cup one of your breasts. You shivered, his palm engulfing you so easily, squeezing gently before drawing his hand back to squeeze your nipple between his knuckles.

“Dreamed about these tits,” he mused, watching your back start to arch when he tugged just right. His other hand came up to match the pace of his kneading on your other breast. “So fuckin’ soft,” he bent forward, squeezing your breasts together to smother himself in the cavern between them, licking at your sternum.

He came back up to kiss you, and you craned your neck, desperate to greet him with your mouth using the same urgency you felt bubbling in your abdomen. His tongue pushed through your lips, and you moaned, leaving him the space to pull back and bite at your bottom lip.

“More,” your head tilted back when he returned to your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth and trapping it with his lips and teeth. His tongue flicked over the pebbled flesh while his hand doted on your other breast, and a flood of arousal dripped between your thighs. “Please, Cooper.”

“I told ya, ‘m takin’ my sweet time,” he spoke into the plush skin of your chest, sucking deep purple marks into you. “Woman like you needs t’be approached with care.” He was smiling, you could feel the curl of his lips against your chest as he continued his teasing ministrations.

“Approach me with care faster,” you whined, thighs beginning to squirm together as the familiar heat began to rise in your stomach.

Cooper released his hold on you, straightening up. One of his hands found purchase on the back of your neck, grabbing at your hair and pulling so that you were forced to look up at him; his other arm circled your waist, pulling you towards him so that you could feel the heat of skin-on-skin.

“You’re fuckin’ greedy,” he growled, taking pleasure in the way your breasts pressed firm against his own body, “Here I thought I was helpin’ get you ready f’me, but I don’t think you care.” He kissed your nose, and you whimpered. “Jus’ don’wanna break ya, s’all.”

“I’d be happy to let you break me.” You were serious; you knew what he was capable of, now and in any event, and you knew there were plenty of things you didn’t know much about—some you didn’t know about at all—but in his hands, you knew you were safe.

Even if it meant being broken. You had no doubt that he’d put you back together.

“Y’don’ know what’cher sayin’…” His hand dropped to squeeze your ass.

“S—aid you’d teach me,” you gasped through your words, blindsided by his touch, “Didn’t you?”

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, stepping back and kneeling in front of you, “I am goin’ to thoroughly enjoy showin’ you the ropes.” His words put the image of you tied up and begging for him in his mind’s eye, but he would save it for another time.

His hands caressed your sides, kneading your hips. He placed kisses down your stomach and the top of your thighs before glancing back up at you.

“Put’cher leg up, baby,” he was on his knees, hand gripping your calf and encouraging you to hook your knee over his shoulder. You did what you were told, your core pulsing when you felt his breath fan your bare cunt. “’Bout time I returned th’favor. Had that sweet li’l mouth on me, wanna taste ya from the source.”

You whined, eyes fixed on him when he brought two fingers to your core and slid them through your folds, collecting the slick that threatened to drench your thighs. He brought his hand up to his mouth, sucking on the digits he’d coated with your wet and humming.

“Like candy, sweetheart,” he placed his hands on your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he drew you in closer and let his face hover just centimeters from where you both wanted him to be. He inhaled, chasing your scent. “Goddamn precious thing.”

You didn’t have time to come up with a reply, instantly met with the sensation of his tongue lapping between your folds before he had even finished his sentence. He licked straight through your slit, letting his tongue dart over your hole and circling it with care before plunging it into you.

You felt hot, unsure of what to do with your hands as the stimulation sent jolts of pleasure through your body, coupled with the vibrations of Cooper’s groans as he buried his face against you. You grabbed at his free shoulder to steady yourself, fingers straying to cup his face and feel the way he hollowed his cheeks while he fucked his tongue into you, guzzling the slick that drenched your thighs.

“Jesus Christ,” he trailed his lips over your thigh, catching his breath, “Look at what y’did, darlin’—makin’ a fuckin’ mess o’me.” He licked his lips, humming as the tang touched his tongue again.

“Feels so good,” you were slack-jawed, staring down at him with saucer eyes.

“Can you believe there are fellas out there who don’ wanna taste their ladies?” Cooper mused, swiping his fingers through you again before positioning them over your clit and applying just enough pressure so the sensation made you bend at the knees. “Goddamn travesty—think I could stay here forever…” He watched you squirm under his fingers, rolling your hips against his hand.

“I’d—I’d let you,” you managed to moan out, trembling.

“Yeah?” He grinned, “Y’want me fuckin’ you with my tongue all day, sweet thing? Y’wanna drown me with this fuckin’ cunt?”

“Cooper—” You felt dizzy, the haze of lust completely cloaking your mind.

“Could y’handle it, sweetheart? All this mess b’tween your pretty fuckin’ thighs—givin’ it to me like the li’l slut I know y’are? Bet ya’d ask for more. Y’always want more, ain’t that right?”

“Yh—ess,” you whined, breath shallow as you neared your high, letting his words wind up the spring in your core.

He’d never felt more triumphant in his life; for someone who had stared death in the face for decades upon decades, it was only now that he felt prepared for it. Covered in your pleasure and listening to your cries, he knew he could die a happy man—but only if he could see you through to your high.

“I’ll give ya more, darlin’,” he bit into your thigh, and you yelped, head falling back, hips pushing against the fingers he still had on your clit. “Always give ya more.”

You felt his fingers leave you, easing further back and pushing against your entrance. You moaned out a plea, something half-assembled and whiny, to make him hurry up. You bit your lip, gasping, when his two fingers pushed into you: thick and deep and immediately locating the spot he’d shown you all those nights ago.

“Fuck—” You cried out, the pads of his fingers punching up into you deliciously.

“Bigger’an yours, huh?” He laughed, unable to tear his eyes away from the way your cunt swallowed his digits, “Y’feel’at stretch again, sweetheart? Pretty cunt nice ‘n’full o’me?”

“It’s s—it’s so good,” you shook your head, lost in overwhelming pleasure. You started bouncing your hips, riding his hand; the slick sounds and the way he moaned out at the sight only served to spur you on further as you hurtled closer to your orgasm.

“Pretty whore, that’s it. Ride these fuckin’ fingers, girl. Wanna see that pretty face y’make when you cum for me.” He was growling, face twisted into a wolfish sneer as he pushed his fingers deeper into you, watching your face contort as your body made space for his intrusion.

When his lips wrapped around your clit, working in tandem with his fingers, your vision went white. Even with your eyes closed, there was still a trace of light, a halo under your eyelids as your body went slack for him and your thighs trembled through the burn of staying in one position for so long.

“Got a tight fuckin’ cunt—squeezin’ me so nice when you cum, baby.” He licked the juices that leaked over the fingers still buried deep inside you, flicking his tongue over your clit and watching your body jolt at the overstimulation.

“Oh my god,” you leaned against the wall behind you, panting. “Cooper—fuck, too much.” You whimpered, reaching for his wrist and pulling him up to you. He leaned into you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“’M sorry, sweetheart,” his words were muted, spoken into your skin between kisses that were likely to leave marks. “So pretty when y’shake like that.”

“No, it’s—it was the good kind of too much.” You giggled, breathy and coquettish, at the way his lips felt on your neck.

“S’at right?” He groaned into you, and your hands came to rest low on his back, just above his waistband.

“Think you knew that…” You mewled, hands looping around to his front to tug on his belt.

“Well, maybe,” he moved to rest his arm against the wall, caging you next to his forearm, “Certainly think I know one thing.”

“Yeah?” You nearly had the buckle on his belt loosened enough to pull it off of him completely. “What’s that, Coop?”

“Think I know you’re a grabby, impatient li’l thing,” he grabbed you by the elbow, halting your attempt to remove his belt. “Think you were serious ‘bout lettin’ me break you, seein’ how those hands keep wanderin’ without permission.”

“Wanna touch you.” You whined, desperate to see if his threats would become promises.

“Touched me plenty,” he laughed, not caving to your pleas, “Don’t’cha wanna feel me in that pretty cunt?” He cupped your still dripping sex, “I know she does.” He pressed the heel of his palm into your clit. “See how far I can push ya?”

His fingers threatened your entrance again and you swooned, rocking your hips forward. Before you could get any satisfaction from his hand, he brought it back up, fingers beckoning your lips open. You licked at his fingers before resting them on your tongue to suck; he tasted like the ash of gun smoke and the tang of your cum, and you whimpered into him.

You released his fingers from your mouth with a quiet pop, and squeezed his hand, admiring the rough skin and the dark eyes in front of you.

“Get on the counter—‘nd spread those legs.” He pulled you towards him by the hand, easing you forward and encouraging you to make the journey to the counter on your own.

“Don’t wanna fuck me up against the wall?” You purred, more so anxious about how you’d look on your back than disappointed that he didn’t fuck you where you stood.

“We’ll get there.” He drank you in as you walked away, eyes darting over your body, unsure of which part of you he enjoyed looking at most. “Wanna get you comfortable.”

You hopped up on the counter, spreading your legs and chancing a look between your thighs. You were soaked, even beyond how you looked after touching yourself for him; the mixture of the two of you, your cum and his spit, that sat sticky on your thighs and over your folds made you squeeze around nothing, and you dipped a hand down to explore your already wrecked cunt.

“Wanderin’ hands…” The Ghoul remained in the spot you’d left him in, hand on his belt buckle as he eyed you.

“Well…” You smiled sheepishly, keeping your fingers perched delicately over your clit, “Come do something about it.”

His jaw clenched, and as he walked over to you with long strides, he undid his belt, unzipping his fly. He didn’t bother ridding himself of his pants—not only was he in too much of a hurry to care, but part of him felt a buzz at the notion that he’d be able to smell you on the fabric for the next few days to come.

“Y’wanna touch so fuckin’ bad?” He pulled his cock out, and you watched, wide-eyed, as he stroked himself. “Go’head, sweetheart—just like y’did last time.”

In the light of day, without the hindrance of sleep in your eyes, and with more illumination than just the dim assistance of a dying fire, you were able to properly appreciate him; long and thick, his tip angry and purple, marred with veins rather than the scars that littered the rest of him.

“Is it a side effect of radiation or are you just lucky?” You smiled nervously, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock.

“Stroke my cock, girl, not my ego,” he laughed, his amusement cut short when you swiped your thumb over his tip. “Christ, ‘at’s it.”

“I remember what to do.”

“Not about rememberin’. Slut like you, was probably hardwired into your system. Pretty fuckin’ thing.”

You took more initiative now, caging him between your legs and urging him closer to you; you moved your hand to the topside of his cock, pressing the underside of him to your cunt and bucking your hips slightly against him.

“Fuck me, I ain’t teach ya that,” Cooper looked down, slack-jawed, at the way you moved.

“Hardwired…” You muttered, you yourself entranced by your ministrations.

“She’s gonna look so pretty stuffed full o’me,” he thrust his hips against you, matching your casual pace. “Y’think ya can take it, darlin’? Gonna lemme fill y’up ‘n’then some?”

“Please,” you struggled to hide your excitement, “Show me—break me.”

“Well, shit,” he groaned out, fingers of one hand gripping your thigh while his other hand wrapped around the base of his cock to line himself up with your entrance, “’F’you insist.”

He went slow, teasing you, dragging himself through your folds before finally pushing forward just enough to let the tip of his cock penetrate you.

“H—oh,” you stuttered, feeling a brief squeeze of something in your abdomen.

“Jes—us, fuck. Jus’ relax, sweetheart. Gonna be gentle for ya.” His voice was raw with desire, and gentler than you’d ever heard it. That alone helped you feel more at ease. He worked you open, inching into you until he was fully sheathed. “Look’at’cha, baby, see how that pretty gash drools for me?” He couldn’t even try to hide his pleasure, heavily lidded eyes paired with his incessant narration. “Lord, bury me in this tight fuckin’ cunt.”

You shivered, feet hooking into his back and quietly urging him to do more. You felt your walls clench around him, familiarizing your body with the pleasant new intrusion.

“Gonna move now, sweetheart. Y’alright?”

“Please,” you gasped when he pulled back an inch, “Let me feel it. Wanna feel you ruin me.”

The hand he didn’t have on your thigh moved to wrap loosely around your neck. “Y’got a dirty fuckin’ mouth.” He leaned forward, inadvertently pushing his cock deeper within you and making you moan wantonly into the kiss he offered. “Now you look at me, baby. Keep those eyes on me while I break y’nice.”

He pulled back before plunging into you and setting a fast but compassionate pace. You wiggled free of his grasp on your throat, head falling back in shock and pleasure.

“What’d I fuckin’ say?” He snarled, grabbing you by the nape of your neck and forcing your face up. “You look at me while I’m fuckin’ you—want y’to see who’s makin’ you feel like this.”

Though your eyes rolled back slightly with each press of his hips to yours, you managed to keep your head up with help from the hand he had on the back of your neck.

“Fuck,” you mumbled out a whine when the tip of his cock nudged at your cervix, a pinch of pain that was drowned out by the overwhelming pleasure. You’d never felt fuller, or more complete, than you did in that moment—connected to him on a much more literal level.

You rolled your hips, desperate for more, pleading for everything he had to give you. You tried to match his pace, but your movements were more urgent than his own and you found yourself squirming pitifully on his cock.

“Thought you’d need it gentle,” Cooper growled out, his teeth clenched, “Was gonna be so patient. But y’really are just a needy fuckin’ whore, huh?” He wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you to him and effectively quieting your movements. “Ain’t’cha? Say it. Tell me what’cha’re, girl.”

“Needy—needy whore.” You let yourself collapse under the pleasure, burying your face into him and letting his skin mute your words.

“That’s right. ‘Nd who’re you needy for?” He goaded you, hips still pistoning forward while you clawed at his back.

“You,” you managed to choke out.

He pulled you back by your hair, and you yelped out a moan as he forced your eyes to meet his. “Say my fuckin’ name. You’re my needy li’l whore, ain’t that right, darlin’? C’mon.”

“Y—es,” you whimpered, grabbing handfuls of him wherever you could reach and pulling him forward to you for a sloppy kiss.

“Don’t be shy now, tell me.”

“I’m yours, Cooper—yours.”

“Shit, there y’go,” he moaned, leaning his head back and granting you access to his neck, where you trailed open mouth kisses.

When he used the arm around your waist as leverage to pull you closer and drag you over his cock, you sucked your lips between your teeth, biting down and trying to let the sounds that traveled from your throat die before they reached your mouth.

“Don’t get shy on me,” he punctuated his words with sharp thrusts of his hips, “Wanna hear y’screamin’.” He tilted you back so you were lying on the counter, wrapping his mouth around the pillowy flesh of your breast, sucking and biting down on you until you caved and let your moans flow freely from between your lips.

“Cooper—fuck,” your voice was strained by satisfaction, “It’s—yeah, taste me while you fuck me.”

“Atta girl,” he groaned, licking over your nipple before biting down on it, “Sound pretty when you’re cryin’ for me like that. Usin’ all your dirty words—what would they think down in that vault o’yours ‘f’they saw ya givin’ it all up to a man like me? Gettin’ split in half by a fuckin’ ghoul ‘nd likin’ it?” He was rambling, getting off on the thought of people seeing a pretty young thing like you, smooth and soft and lively, speared on his cock.

He'd fuck you out in the open next time, if you’d let him.

“Don’t—don’t care—" you were panting, overstimulated and loving it, “Want more.”

“Greedy bitch,” he reached between your bodies and pinched your clit, eliciting a high-pitched mewl from you. “Been nice enough to fuck y’rough like ya needed ‘nd you’re still actin’ desperate. Just gonna have to keep you on my cock like this all the time.”

“Yes!” You moaned, the thought of him keeping you full like this made you more than happy. The excitement in your voice did little to quell his thoughts of keeping you beneath him, hoarding you to himself and stuffing you every free moment.

“Yeah, ‘at’s what’cha need. Dumb fuckin’ hole to use, s’at right? Y’just wanna be a cunt f’me to fill.” He sped up, and in his haste his cock jabbed against your g-spot repeatedly and with no mercy.

Nobody had ever spoken to you like this, held you liked this, or fucked you at all, let alone in a manner so aggressive and hungry for you. You loved it, you lapped up the attention and the degrading praise that he lobbed at you and begged for more.

“Fucking—anything, I’ll do anything for you, Cooper,” you meant it, too, “Use me how you want, whenever you want, I’ll fucking let you—I’ll let you.”

“You be a good girl ‘n’cum for me, I’ll help you make good on that promise.” He drawled, not planning to let up anytime soon but aching for the feel of your cunt squeezing him even deeper. “Soak my fuckin’ cock, I’ll bend y’over til y’forget your own fuckin’ name.”

“O—fuck, please,” you wanted it, craved the feeling of his cock pounding into your already sore center even more as he demonstrated to you all the ways that you could take him. He rolled your clit between his fingers, combining the movement with gentle strokes using the pad of his thumb. “C—ooper,” you hardly managed to breathe his name, the now more than familiar feeling of white-hot arousal coating your veins and clouding your senses.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he muttered, “Lemme have it—drown me with it.”

This was the closest he’d ever felt to feral, wild and primal and absolutely hungry for the way you convulsed when you came. He pressed harder against your clit, coupling the motion of his fingers with long, deep strokes of his cock.

Your nails dug into the counter under your head as you let go, your chest heaving. Whining, you arched your back, the satisfaction of feeling him so deep in your cunt prolonging the electricity of your high.

“Fuck,” Cooper was rasping, his words catching in his throat and tugged out by the pleasure of feeling you clench around him, your slick dripping over his length. “Goddamn sweet pussy, there’y’go baby—that’s what I wanna see.” He continued to roll his hips against you, enjoying the way you whimpered for him. “Y’gonna let me bend ya over now?” He cooed, pushing hair from your face.

You opened your mouth, breathing heavily, trying to find words to respond.

“Don’t waste your breath, sweetheart—f’you open your mouth again I’ll be tempted to fuck it.” The thought made you moan, any words you’d been able to think up dying before they reached your lips. “You’d fuckin’ like that, though, huh?” When you nodded dreamily, he laughed, and seeing the rise and fall of his chest, and the genuine smile on his cracked lips formed from affection rather than disdain, your fading orgasm was replaced with burning desire to let him give you another.

“Bend—bend me over.” You whispered, voice soft and dry after overworking your lungs.

“Gonna have’ta pull out first.” He cocked a brow, teasing you just for the hell of it. He was obsessed with the image before him, the sweet headstrong vault dweller that he’d managed to get in such an unholy position; corrupting you like this was his new favorite pastime.

“Mm,” you mewled, loosening your legs from around his waist and letting them go slack by his sides. “Fast.”

“So desperate to be stuffed, can’t bear a couple seconds?” He pulled out slowly, and you shivered. The hollow feeling in your lower half made you clench around nothing, and you were eager to have him replace the emptiness.

You shook your head in response to his goading.

“’Nd that’s why you’re a whore.” He spoke with a sense of finality, more than ready to get you beneath him.

Cooper tugged you forward by your hips, easing you off the counter until your feet hit the floor with a dampened thud. You swayed, and his hands moved to your waist to ensure you didn’t collapse into more of a lusted-out heap than you already were. Slowly, he turned you, encouraging you to bend at the hips and let your hands drape over the front of the counter.

“Pretty thing. So fuckin’ nice to look at.” His words were quiet, meant only for the two of you to hear, and even then, it was mostly for his sake; he kept moving, kept speaking, to ensure this was all really happening and that he wouldn’t wake up hungover in a cold sweat, craving his body weight in jet.

“Christ…” He dragged his hands down your sides when you had made yourself comfortable, “So smooth.” He ran one finger down the length of your spine, and a contented sigh that verged on a laugh slipped through your lips. “So damn pretty—God, you’re a fuckin’ prize, sweetheart.”

“Your prize,” you mumbled into your arms where they cushioned your face. “Deserve something pretty.” You didn’t know why you said it. Maybe in your post-orgasmic haze you thought it would make more sense, maybe you would’ve been embarrassed for saying it if you had any sense of shame. All you could really think about in the moment was having him between your thighs again.

But it made sense to Cooper. And all the guilt and impurity he’d dealt with while traveling with you, and before, and all the reasons he felt marked by the devil (or at least some ungodly imp that had it out for him) faded from his mind. Caps be damned, you were the best reward he’d ever gotten, and it didn’t matter if he felt it was undeserved—you thought he’d earned it.

“Think you’re right,” he sighed, gripping his length and lining himself up with you. He took it as an opportunity to admire your form before he ravaged you again: drinking you in, listening to your quiet, urging whines.

He pressed the head of his cock to your entrance, spitting once and letting the strand pool between your ass. He watched with anticipation as it dripped, groaning slightly at the sight of his spit making its way to puddle over his cock where it connected to you.

His eyes darted over to the tight rim of your asshole; the trail of his saliva had left it glassy and he couldn’t help the way his thumb brushed over it.

“What about here, sweetheart?” He pressed leisurely against the puckered hole, “Y’ever think about takin’ it here? Gettin’ fucked where the sun don’ shine?”

“C—ooper,” the pressure was different, but not unwelcome. You’d never considered the possibilities, but now he had you wondering.

“I’m pullin’ yer leg, baby…’nother time.” He huffed a breath, adding it to the list of profane things he wanted to expose you to.

Besides, he was tired of teasing you—teasing himself. He didn’t have the restraint to keep his cock perched at your entrance any longer. He thrust wildly into you, bottoming out immediately and knocking the air from you.

“Shit—Cooper, fuck—” You gasped, arms shooting forward and nails scratching at the countertop. This position allowed him so much more free reign, and you could feel him deep in your stomach. “Oh, my g—yes, yes, yesyesyes!” 

“You’re a fuckin’ dream,” Cooper leaned over you, pressing his chest into your back and wrapping a hand around your throat to keep your head still while he growled into your ear. “Fit like a fuckin’ glove. Y’feel that?” He dragged his cock out of you before punching it back in, and you cried out for him. “Made for me, ain’t that right?”

“H—n—yes!” The back of your head settled into the crook of his neck, and you were thrilled to be surrounded by him; his hand on your throat and his body above you, stuffed full of him and dripping down your own thighs—it was perfect. “For you, Cooper.”

“Gonna make sure y’don’t forget it,” he straightened back up, moving his hand to your upper back to pin you down, “Mold this fuckin’ cunt just for me—ruin ya good, nobody else’ll have a fuckin’ chance.”

His hips pressed against your ass, every thrust somehow deeper than the last; you gave up on forming coherent words, mouth agape and producing muddled whines. You felt tears gather in the corners of your eyes and then flow down your cheeks, overwhelmed by the bliss of his cock punching into your most tender spot and unable to keep up with the arousal that coursed through you.

“Don’t even have to see that pretty face to know what’cha look like right now,” Cooper continued his onslaught of affectionate degradation, “Fucked out so good yer cryin’. Stupid, cockdumb li’l thing.” His hand moved up from your back and he laced his fingers through your hair, tugging from the root and pulling you up to him so that your back arched and he could look at you while he spoke. “Pathetic li’l girl.”

You offered a delighted, if not incoherent, reply.

“Just that good, huh? Bet’cha ain’t know it could feel like this.” He licked a stripe up your cheek, following the salty path of your tears.

“’S‘mazing—” You whimpered, eyes rolling back. You pushed yourself back against his thighs, desperate for everything you could get from him. “Cooper—‘s’o g—ood.”

“Fuckin’ look’t you,” Cooper bit down on your neck, running his tongue over the spots his teeth had left dents in, “Work for it, sweetheart.”

With the energy you had left, you rocked back on your feet, leaning against him and pushing your ass into his hips. The noises you let out were pornographic, practically inhuman, and Cooper lapped it up. His free hand fell to your hips, squeezing the skin there before tracing down to your thigh and then up over the curve of your ass. He kneaded the flesh, then let his hand come down in a quick smack before repeating the motion. You let out strangled moans each time, unable to wrap your mind around how he managed to make everything feel so good, so natural.

“Gonna cum f’me?” He used his grasp on your hips and hair to take his control back, dragging you over his cock like a toy and listening to you cry out. “C’mon, girl, wet this cock again.”

“Fuck,” it was the first real word you’d managed to speak in a while, “Ca—an’t…” You had never tried to give yourself multiple orgasms, usually sated and in bed after you’d given yourself one. You were almost certain that you wouldn’t be able to give him what he wanted a third time in a row, despite how badly you wanted it, too.

“Oh, yes y’can, sweetheart,” the hand he’d had on your hip wrapped around your front, fingers immediately dropping to your clit and massaging it in quick, tight circles. “Just gotta make ya.”

Your legs were spasming and your tongue lolled from between your lips; you felt wrecked and used up and it made the fire in your core burn twice as bright.

You screamed his name, cried it out repeatedly while you drenched his cock.

Cooper let go of the grip he had on your scalp, groaning at the feel of you wrapped around him and the sound of his name falling from your lips.

“Good girl—only fuckin’ word y’gotta know.” He moaned, still thrusting into you, though his pace had slowed, and his fingers pressed more gently into your clit as you rode out your high. “Y’gonna let me bust in that pretty mouth again?” He reached forward, two of his fingers hooking the side of your cheek before adjusting to rest on your tongue. You closed your lips around them and sucked. “Wanna swallow what I got for ya?”

You tried to respond, but your words were garbled by his fingers.

“Speak up, girl,” Cooper tsked, letting his hand fall down to your throat and giving it a squeeze.

“Not—not my mouth,” you spluttered, “In my pussy.”

You heard him let out a strangled sound, one he quickly tried to swallow in order to regain composure. He wanted to argue—tell you that you weren’t just a quick fuck he’d toss chems at and forget in an hour, that he’d paint your chest or your ass or your face instead, give you all the glory of the reward without the poisonous aftereffects.

But damn if he didn’t want to see you full of his load, letting him watch while it dripped from your swollen, used-up hole.

“Y’sure, sweetheart?” He pressed, holding back his imminent high for a moment longer to make sure you weren’t just letting your libido speak for you.

“Cooper…” You whined, purposefully squeezing your walls tighter around him, “Fill me up.”

He had to hand it to you: even fucked stupid, you were still stubborn as all hell. And incredibly convincing, at that.

It made him smile into the back of your neck, leaning forward to pin you down again while he sped up the motion of his hips.

“Fuckin’ whore. Y’wanna get filled up so bad?” He caged you between his arms, trapping you between his body and the counter, “Fill y’up every fuckin’ day—keep ya drippin’ for me so I can slide right back in. Fuckin’ cumslut.”

He was getting sloppy; his thrusts were more erratic, and he’d given up completely on keeping a steady pace.

You craned your neck to the side, eyes lidded and dry tears clinging to your lashes, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. He stared down at you. You looked completely wrecked, and absolutely beautiful, and it was the first time in over two centuries that he felt right.

He kissed your temple.

“Cum in me,” you whispered, “Please, Coop.”

“Cryin’ for me, beggin’ t’be pumped full’a cum by a fuckin’ ghoul,” he was heaving, his words just as needy sounding as they were ragged and controlling. “Y’wan’it? I’ll fuckin’ give it t’ya. Desperate slut—Christ—fuck! There y’go.” His moan of your name was gruff, almost choked as he pumped into you. You felt him pulse, his chest pressing against you as he took labored breaths, still whimpering quiet whispers of your name. You clenched around him, half on purpose and half on reflex, and he groaned behind you.

You stayed like that, together in a heap, barely supported by the counter beneath you. Finally, he moved his head to pepper kisses on your shoulder.

“Gotta get y’up,” he mumbled against you.

“Don’t wanna.” You were perfectly happy to stay where you were, with the cold counter pressed against your cheek and his cock still inside you.

“RadAway.” He said it like a warning.

“I feel fine.”

“Don’t test me, darlin’.”

“Or what?” You goaded, arching your back against him and wiggling your hips.

He cursed under his breath. “You’ll get sick ‘nd whiney ‘n’I’m the one ‘at’s gotta deal with it.” He nipped at your neck, and you giggled.

“Sick, maybe. I don’t whine.” You rolled your eyes.

“Uhuh.” Cooper chuckled, standing properly. He winced when he finally pulled out of you, but the discomfort of having to remove himself was quickly remedied by the way his cum dripped from your cunt and down your thighs. He watched transfixed as the gooey mixture of the two of you slid down your legs. Raising his hand almost subconsciously, he swiped at the liquid as it trickled over your skin and pressed two fingers inside of you.

“Cooper,” it was more a gasp than a coherent call of his name.

“Said I’d keep ya full…” He was muttering, eyes never leaving your swollen cunt as he pushed his spend back into you. You whined, sore but content, when he leaned forward to press kisses into the globe of your ass, biting down with minimal pressure just to savor the bounce of your skin against his teeth.

He managed to tear himself away after a while, leaving you to your own devices momentarily while he tracked down his duster and laid it out on the floor.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” his palms were back on your hips, and he helped you find the energy to stand up straight. He whistled as he guided you to the spot on the floor he’d chosen, hands never leaving you when he got you to curl up on the duster.

“No room for you,” you complained, stretching out an arm to emphasize the uncovered floor next to you.

He smiled down at you, kneeling to rustle through the pockets of the coat under you to find RadAway.

“Y’think I care ‘bout sleepin’ on the ground? Slept underground before, sweetheart. Not one t’bother with comfort.” He kissed your thigh, trying to distract you from the sting of the needle he pressed into you. “Long’s I’m next to you, I’ll be jus’ fine.”

You winced when he delivered the RadAway, but the press of his calloused hand against the spot of the intrusion offered instant relief.

He found his way next to you, lying on the floor and putting out his arm for you. You curled against him, draping a leg over his side and resting your head on his shoulder.

You lay there together, appreciating the company and basking in each other’s quiet affection.

“This’s what it’s s’posed to feel like.” Cooper spoke.

“What?” You’d almost fallen asleep in the tranquility.

“Livin’.” He said simply.

“You’d know better than anybody…” You smiled, “What, a hundred years old? One-fifty?”

He craned his neck to look at you, smirking.

“Two hundred? You’ll stop me if I get it right, right?” You pushed him.

He just grinned, rolling his eyes and lying back down.

“Never told you how bad it was for me before I found you.” You kept talking.

“Now, ‘f’I recall correctly, I found you, sweetheart.”

“Y—shut up,” you laughed, and he laughed with you. “I thought I could be part of something. And then I thought I was dead.” You explained, “Or at least…dying.”

“No. You would’a pulled through.” He wrapped a strand of your hair around his finger, letting it uncurl before repeating the cycle. “Y’always do, Einstein.”

And even after everything, that’s what made you blush—his recognition, his praise of your skills.

“You are part o’somethin’. By the way.” He didn’t elaborate, just wrapped his other arm around you to pull you closer.

“Yeah, well…” You could only imagine what he meant, but no matter what, you had a feeling that he meant it wholeheartedly. “Helps that I’ve got you now.”

“Helps that I got you.” He echoed, barely above a whisper.

You both fell into silence again, his hands still combing through your hair.

“Meant it. ‘Bout how I feel really…alive.” Cooper stopped fiddling and rested his hand on your back. “Never thought I’d…” He had backed himself into a corner, unsure of how to describe his feelings. It had been so long. “I never thought I’d appreciate havin’ someone by my side quite as much as I appreciate you.” He chose his words carefully, not yet willing, or able, to put into words the true depth of his devotion to you.

You smiled; you knew exactly what he meant this time, and it made you feel like crying and kissing him and letting your heart burst through your chest.

Instead, you breathed deep, letting him flood your senses. “I love you, too, Coop.”

He moved to kiss the top of your head, chaste and vulnerable, and you leaned into him further.

“You’re a good person. Yknow that?” His thumb swept over your skin where his palm was resting, “Capable. Smart. Good all ‘round.”

“You think?”

“As good ‘s there are stars in th’sky.”

“Even after I killed a man?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Especially after that.” He nodded in reassurance.

“…What now?”

“Figured we could just lie here a while longer,” Cooper stretched, raising his arms over his head before they settled back around you.

“Yeah,” you let out a small yawn, one of your hands pawing at his chest lazily.

“And after’at…we keep on walkin’.”

“Together?” You asked, your fingers pressing against his skin.

“For’s long as you’ll have me.” He smirked, squeezing your hip.

“Forever, then,” you smiled into him, letting your eyes close. “Forever.”

“Yeah, I think’at sounds good,” he leaned his head against yours, basking in the glow of you. “I like that.”

Maybe you had miscalculated, and certainly you had been wrong about plenty.

But you got to be someone. You got to see stars.

And you got him.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆ Tags: @tragicdruid @lokis-right-femur

[photo1030]

Pls do a fic or smthing where readers old guy friend finds her and they reconnect and they’re both crying and Arthur is like who is this and reader is like he’s my closest friend from home I haven’t seen him in ages and Arthur is all jealous kinda

Hi, Kids!

So sorry for the wait. Life has been busy, but I've been plugging away on this one. Thank you so much for this "ask"! This was actually an idea that I had for my regular "Arthur x reader" fic, so I was happy to oblige. I wrote this to coincide with my reg fic and I decided to go more angsty than smutty for this one, so I hope that is OK for the Anon who asked.

**Special thanks to @readingcoco for beta-reading for me. Your help was priceless.

LEATHER AND LACE - SAY HELLO TO AN OLD FRIEND

Summary: Arthur is none too pleased when you run into an old friend from your previous life. 

*This is not my image. This belongs to Rafa on Pintrest. Beautiful work there.

Masterlist

Tagging: @daisybvck

The banging of an anvil echoes heavily in your ears, the deafening ringing thumping in your brain. You and Arthur have wandered into the busy town of Cripple Creek to see the local farrier. You have spent the last day hunting and while coming down through the valley pass, your horse, Blue, had thrown a shoe. Never one to neglect your horse, you insisted Arthur take you into the closest town to get him some attention immediately. 

Now, Arthur is a firm believer in taking proper care of one’s horse, as a man’s horse means his survival. But the way you fuss over this spoiled animal as if he were your child causes Arthur to just chuckle and shake his head at you. 

Coming out of the farrier’s building, you shield the sun from your eyes as you look around at the townspeople. The area seems pleasant enough. It is a depot location for one of the railroad lines, so there is a lot of traffic. People are coming and going, always in a hurry to go somewhere or nowhere. But always in a hurry to get there all the same. 

You passed several pungent livestock farms on the way here, but now you can inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air being pulled into your lungs. A slight breeze kicks up, lifting the soft tendrils of hair that frame your face to sway gently in its wake.

Arthur looks over as he lights his cigarette, amused at how your eyes roll closed and your whole body relaxes in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He really should get you out of that camp more often. Maybe he’ll hold off a bit on returning home, and the two of you can spend some more time alone together.

You can feel the bulk of him leaning in closer to you as his gloved hand runs down your spine to land on the small of your back. “Well, what do ya think? Should we get a room for the night or just rut about in the woods like we usually do?” 

Your lips pull into a smile at his suggestion, and when you open your eyes, you are met with Arthur’s twinkling suggestively at you. Your face immediately brightens as you turn your body into him, hands finding their way to his broad chest. Your fingertips play with the upturned collar of his faded black button-down shirt. Giggling with excitement at the idea, you push up onto your tiptoes, your nose flirtatiously inches from his. Arthur’s hands settle comfortably at your hips, his arms enfolding you.

“Y/N? Y/F&LN, is that you?”

 A vaguely familiar voice distracts you from answering Arthur’s question, but you can’t quite place it. Turning your head in confusion, you search for the source, and suddenly, your eyes widen with recognition. 

“Robert?” Your gaze lands on a tall, slender man making his way through the crowd towards you. He is well-dressed in a blue and gold brocade vest and has auburn hair neatly combed back. He’s sporting more facial hair than you remember, giving him a distinguished look. He’s a bit older now, but you’d recognize that wide, toothy smile anywhere. An unexpected shriek of excitement escapes your lips as your hands slip away from Arthur. “Robert!!”

Arthur stands there dumbfounded as he watches excitement overtake your whole body as you run into the waiting arms of this mystery man. Who in the hell is this person? And why did you just abandon Arthur to embrace him like that? You and this strange man hug each other tightly, laughing and smiling as if God himself had gifted you each other.

“I thought you were dead, Y/N!” the man exclaims, holding you at arm’s length so he can take a good look at you. 

“I thought you went to Europe! I thought I’d never see you again!” you laugh incredulously. Shaking your head in wonder, you throw your arms around the man’s neck again.

Arthur stands quietly, eyebrows knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line. He doesn’t like this one bit. The only person he’s ever seen you this excited over is him. Arthur’s fingers tap impatiently along his belt where his hands sit idle, as he waits for you to finish this reunion. Eventually, he clears his throat to try to turn your attention back to him.

Finally remembering yourself, you turn towards Arthur. “Arthur, this is Robert, my best friend.” Arthur’s eye catches how your arm eagerly loops around the man’s elbow. “We knew each other as kids. We grew up together back east!” You continue to gush as you present your old friend to your current lover. “Robert, this is Arthur.” You motion to the mountain of a man standing to your right. 

Robert’s face lights up as he boldly strides closer, extending his hand out to shake Arthur’s. “So nice to meet you, Arthur!” His voice chirps with bravado and swagger, instantly making Arthur’s skin crawl. When Arthur doesn’t reply with the same enthusiasm, Robert turns back to you, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “So, is this your…husband?”

A slight giggle comes from your lips at the suggestion. “No, we’re not married. But he is mine.” You smile proudly at Arthur, your hand reaching over and squeezing his. Arthur smiles down at you as his body drifts slightly closer to yours. His strong arm snakes around your waist until you rest protectively against him. When he sees you beaming at him, it sets him at ease a bit with this intruder and he tries to relax a little. 

“Robert, is it? Well, Robert, looks like you and Y/N go way back, huh?” Arthur asks, trying not to come off as annoyed as he feels right now. 

“Oh boy, do we. We used to get in all kinds of trouble together.” Robert waves his hand in emphasis, then reaches out to tap your arm. “Y/N, remember when we used to sneak out and stay up ‘til 3:00 in the morning?”

You cover your mouth in embarrassment. “God, if my father ever found out what we were up to, he’d have taken a belt to me for sure!” you roll your eyes.

Robert’s dark eyes fall upon you with a sweet and nostalgic look, one held with affection of a time long past. “Used to be you and me, spitting off the edge of the world, right?” He leans over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from Arthur and into his side.

You smile affectionately back at your friend, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. You and me.” 

‘You and me’ - The phrase sticks in Arthur’s brain, a phrase you should only be using in reference to him… not some other random fella. His lip curls into a slight sneer of contempt, however, you are too caught up in the camaraderie with your friend to notice. 

“We need to catch up! Come on, let’s get a drink and a bite to eat. I want to know everything that’s been going on with you since we last saw each other,” insists Robert, tugging on the sleeve of your white cotton tunic. 

“Oh, yes!” You turn towards Arthur. “Can we, Arthur? We have time, don’t we?”

Right now, Arthur wants nothing more than to get you away from this man, this town and everyone else in the world. But he can’t say no to that wishful look on your face. He doesn’t have the heart to crush your hope. That has always been Arthur’s weakness:  he can never say no to you. 

“Fine, I guess we got some time to spare,” Arthur reluctantly agrees, trying to hide the disdain that threatens to break through his patient facade. You clasp your hands together, giving a little hop of excitement.

The three of you turn to head down the side of the street, with you and Robert chit-chatting incessantly the whole time. As you stroll along, Robert explains how he has become a lawyer and is traveling to California to take care of some estate affairs for a prominent family. He is just stopping for a layover in Cripple Creek to catch a connecting train.

Instead of going to a saloon, you reach a little restaurant along the main strip in town and head inside. Robert orders a bottle of the best liquor the bar has to offer, and you all sit around a table as he proceeds to tell you of all the gossip from back home. 

Robert is so animated and full of life and fun, not caring at all about the judgmental looks of others as he loudly tells you anecdote after anecdote. But he’s always been like this. For as long as you’ve known him Robert doesn’t care what anyone thinks and therefore is free to do as he pleases. This is something that you have always loved about him and why you were such good friends when you were younger. He was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy upper-class world. And to be honest, you always had a bit of a crush on him, too.

“So, David and Clare got married, you know,” he smirks. Of course, Robert is referring to your ex-fiance who you were betrothed to, who, as it turned out, was sleeping with your friend the whole time. 

“I figured as much,” you reply dismissively.

“Huge obnoxious wedding, of course.” Robert waves his hand with a flourish.

You huff out an unimpressed chuckle. “I figured as much,” you repeat again.

“Wasn’t even six months, and the rumors were flying about his infidelity.” Robert laughs at the absurdity of it. You roll your eyes and take a large swig from your glass. “You dodged a bullet there, my friend.” Robert gives you a wink. 

Arthur has to stifle a snicker at the irony of the man’s choice of language.

“Probably should’ve just married you myself,” smiles Robert. The statement makes you blush a bit under Robert’s affectionate gaze. But it is a statement that sets Arthur on edge. 

Arthur patiently pretends to listen as you and Robert continue to laugh and joke about old friends and the social scene you left behind, the pair of you growing more and more chummy, until eventually, you find yourself resting a hand on Robert's forearm as you speak. Arthur clenches his fist tightly under the table, his eyes staring at your fingers and watching as they absentmindedly dance along Robert’s arm. It is not intended to be a flirtatious move, as it is a mannerism that you often do when you are excited about what you are talking about. But it is an action that Arthur resents all the same right now. 

You try your best to involve Arthur in the conversation but to be frank, you are discussing people and places that he has no frame of reference for. The only thing that does pique his interest is the way Robert keeps referring to you. That certainly has Arthur's attention. But he has to be careful. He can see how happy you are and doesn't want his temper to burst your little bubble. However, if he had his way, he would be grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the closest hotel to make you forget your own name, let alone another man's.

Arthur hates that you have this “other language” and bond with someone who is not only outside the gang, but outside his class altogether. He’d forgotten where you came from and what you’d given up to be with the Van Der Linde gang and him along with it. And this conversation with this ghost of your past only confirms it. Arthur tries not to glare at Robert as he takes in the man’s fine clothing and clean hands that have probably never seen a day of labor in his life. 

The whole thing is a harsh reminder that Arthur may not only be holding you back in life but actually pushing you down. 

“So,” Robert finally turns his attention away from you, ”What do you do for a living, Art?” Robert asks innocently.

The very sound of Robert’s voice makes Arthur bristle. “The name…is Arthur,” he grits out. “And it’s none of your damn business what I do.” At this point, Arthur wants nothing more than to plant his massive fist in this pompous fool’s face.

You instantly pick up on Arthur’s annoyance. You can see his steel blue eyes set hard as his fist clenches around the glass in his hand. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he watches Robert, and you know from experience that he is measuring the man up. Robert is only being nice, ever the extravert, but he has no idea what sort of man is sitting across from him. 

“Easy now, Arthur,” you chuckle nervously as you pat his burly forearm. “Robert is only asking out of curiosity.” Arthur shoots you a look that you can’t quite place. “Arthur does a little bit of everything,” you quickly answer Robert to avoid further awkwardness. “He’s done bounty work, loan collecting, things like that.”

“Interesting,” muses Robert. 

“Well, I’d rather be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite,” asserts Arthur as he levels his gaze across the table at Robert.

“I assume you work with horses quite a bit, too, then?” Robert pushes as his eyes roam up and down over Arthur.

“I do.”

“Figured as much. You seem pretty ‘rough and rugged’ like the cowboys we read about back in the city.” Arthur’s eyebrows knit as his mouth turns into a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, friend! You look fantastic!” Robert insists. “In fact, I couldn’t be happier for Y/N. Looks like she’s got herself a real man. Those sniveling, uppity simpletons back home were never her type.”

“And I assume you are?” Arthur asks. This causes you to look at him questioningly. 

“Me? Oh, no. We were never like that.” Robert waves the comment off, not reading the underlying meaning of Arthur’s question.

“He’s right. Being married to Robert would be like being married to a puppy,” you joke, trying to lighten the ominous mood that Robert is thankfully oblivious to.

“True. But, you have to admit, we would have made quite the pair, wouldn’t we?” Robert leans over and nudges you in the side with that wide smile of his again. 

Arthur roughly grabs his glass of whiskey and throws it back, the bitter liquor hitting his throat, before he slams the glass down onto the table. 

“What are you gettin’ at, there, Robert? Hmm? You think Y/N would be better off with you than me? Is that it?” The icy stare that Arthur throws at Robert is cold enough to frost the windows of the room. His chiseled jaw sets tightly, his body tense as if about to explode. Your stomach drops as you realize that Robert has indeed crossed a line with Arthur, whether he has intended to or not. And you find yourself at an impasse:  do you stand by your man, or do you defend your oldest and dearest friend?

Finally, seeing that Arthur is not amused by his antics, Robert takes the hint and clears his throat nervously. “Well, it has been so wonderful to catch up with you, Y/N!” He stands up from the table and adjusts his vest, running his hand over his hair to make sure everything is still in its place. You and Arthur stand as well in anticipation of the farewell. You are reluctant to say goodbye to your friend, and Arthur is anxious to leave. 

The three of you silently file out of the little restaurant together and onto the busy sidewalk.

“I truly hope we can do this again sometime soon, Y/N. Maybe if I swing through these parts again, I’ll reach out.” Robert says hopefully.

“I’d like that, Robert. Please do.” You affectionately place your hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since I’ve been out here.” You give each other a tight hug, one that lasts a bit longer than Arthur’s liking. But then again, Arthur doesn’t like anyone touching you for any reason. 

“Arthur, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Robert smiles and sticks his arm out to shake Arthur’s hand again, which he reluctantly does. Arthur’s large hand dwarfs Robert’s as it clamps down extra hard. “Take good care of our girl, yes?” 

“Sure,” Arthur deadpans. “Our girl.”

Robert gives you both an awkward smile and turns to head back down the street towards the train depot. Your eyes follow him as your chest feels heavy at having to say goodbye to a part of your past. 

When you turn back to Arthur to thank him for his patience, you are met with his hard face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snaps. 

Sighing in exasperation, you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t give me that.” You knew this argument was coming. 

“Just that you seem awfully close with that Robert fella.” The contempt in Arthur’s voice is not lost on you.

“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend.” 

Arthur’s jaw clenches just a bit more at your answer. “Uh-huh.”

Your head tilts slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as you study him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Like I said, you two seem awfully close.” His voice drops low and slow, almost spitting out the words like a spoiled piece of meat.

“That’s because we are. He was the only true friend I had, Arthur.” You shuffle your weight from hip to hip, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Arthur’s scrutiny. You suddenly feel like one of his marks.

“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s simple responses quickly escalates your annoyance as you watch him pull a cigarette out of his pocket, striking the match on the nearby building with enough force that the wooden stick almost snaps between his fingertips. 

“Oh my God, are you jealous?” you ask, disturbed at the turn in the conversation. 

“Nope.” Dipping his head down, his eyes are hidden by his dusty, worn hat as his fingers bring the cigarette back up to his lips. 

“No?”

“Alright, maybe I am,” he suddenly spins on you, face turning crimson. “Maybe I don’t like how excited you get to see another man. Maybe I don’t like you all laughing and smiling at someone else.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your ears, taken aback by his surge of anger. “Arthur-”

“Don’t!” he barks at you. “Just…don’t! I can’t compete with that, and you know it!” He points his finger accusingly at you. 

“Arthur, I'm not asking you to compete with anyone! In fact, there’s a reason why I left all that behind.” You step towards him, arms raised to embrace him, but he blocks your hands with his own.

“Save it!” And he storms off, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, leaving you queasy. A storm of guilt, frustration, and yes even anger, rages inside your chest. You wrap your arms around yourself as you try to make sense of what just happened.

“Damn it, Arthur,” you mutter. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Rather than chase after him, you decide to leave Arthur be and give him time to cool off. There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, as it usually escalates into a fight if you push it. You feel awful for making him feel bad, as you are well aware of how self-conscious he is. But then again, what about your feelings? You have every right to visit with an old friend and a dear one at that. Yes, you know how it looks. You and Robert always did have a special bond that bordered on the flirtatious side. But you love Arthur. And he knows that. You love him with a depth that could swallow the stars. And you are getting tired of having to constantly prove that to him.

After an hour of wandering the local shops to stall for time, you decide to find Arthur, knowing exactly where you’ll find him. Your boot heels click along the worn floorboard of the porch outside of the saloon. You can hear the chatter and piano music coming from inside. You look through the window, eyes searching for your target. Between the small sea of dusty hats and hulking shoulders, you catch sight of that familiar form that you seek. 

Walking into the building, your hands roll over each other, fingers intertwining, as you take a shaky breath when you approach Arthur at the bar. You glide onto the stool beside him, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable. He sits quietly, still brooding with a menacing vibe radiating off of him. You motion to the bartender, who walks over when he catches your eye. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

“A beer, please.” 

“Comin’ right up”. It only takes a minute for him to grab a bottle and set it next to the coin you’ve already placed for him. His thick, ready fingers pick it up off the bar top with a pleasant nod of approval as he sets about his previous task. 

You spin the bottle between your fingertips, looking at Arthur from the corner of your eye. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

He continues to sulk quietly, lifting a shot of whiskey to his lips and downing it in one. His jaw clenches at the sting of the cheap liquor, but he promptly pours another shot into the diminutive glass, the bottle half empty at this point.

“Alright, fine.” You take a swig of your beer.

“Where’s your ‘friend’?” Arthur grunts without even looking at you. 

“Robert is about to get on a train.”

“Mmhmm”.

“Arthur-”

“Alright, look, I’m sorry,” he interupts, slicing his hand through the air as if to end the argument right here. “Please don’t make a big deal outta this.”

“What were you worried about? That I’d run off with Robert?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he blurts out bitterly.

“You can’t be serious?” Your face twists up in shock. He only answers you with a snort of derision. “Arthur, I was excited to see an old friend. That’s all,” you stress emphatically. “You have to remember, I am surrounded by your people, your family, all of the time. This is the first time I’ve seen someone from my previous life.” Your tone unwittingly begins to take on one of annoyance as you try to plead your case. But it is an argument that is falling on deaf and angry ears.

“I’m sorry, I thought the gang was ‘your people’, too,” he bites back. Arthur can be a reasonable man until he is provoked, and then reason doesn’t factor in at all. 

“Well, they are,” you backpedal sheepishly at his harshness. Your gaze falters to land on the bottle in your hands before attempting to meet Arthur’s again. “But you know what I mean. You can’t be angry because I was happy to see someone from my life that, heaven forbid, didn’t involve the Van der Linde gang.” 

Artur just pouts in silence. You are getting really irritated at this point, but trying to remain calm and not cause a scene.

“So you’d just let me run away with Robert rather than talk to me and ask me to stay with you? Is that it?” you huff.

“Couldn't help but notice how excited you were to hear about everything back home. Almost like you miss it. Pretty damn clear after your little visit today that you don’t even belong here. Maybe you should.” And another shot gets poured into the glass.

Damn it, and there it is. The thing that always seems to be present in your relationship:  the idea that you still don’t belong, even after all this time and everything that you’ve done. Arthur still doesn’t see you as “one of them”. And it is a sting that doesn’t sit well with you at all. 

Your eyes begin to well up as you try to fight the lump forming in your throat. ”I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Your lips tremble slightly with emotion, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling and bubbling up inside you like one of Pearson’s stews.

The very insinuation is hurtful to you. You have turned your life upside down for the gang and for him. And yet, it seems it will never be enough. It’s as if you are being punished for having a decent life before you were thrust into this new one. You didn’t fit into society back east, and it seems you still don’t fit here either. 

“Stop with the theatrics. I ain’t in a mood for it.” Arthur slings back another shot of whiskey. 

“You really are an ass sometimes, Arthur,” you stammer in disappointment.

He immediately slams his shot glass down on the bar, shattering it. The action startles you, your eyes shooting wide open. Arthur finally turns to face you now, his eyes burning into you so intensely that it causes you to cringe. You know damn well that you’re not perfect. But, it always made you feel special that Arthur seemed to think so. But the look he’s giving you right now is plain enough for you to know that he no longer believes it. 

And the wounded expression on your face enrages Arthur even more. The sight of you cowering like a lamb to slaughter because of his anger is too much. He’s furious at the everything right now:  you, Robert, this town, and more importantly, himself. He grabs the whiskey bottle on the counter and whips it at the wall, sending shards of glass flying into the thick smokey air to rain down onto the immediate vicinity. 

With your breath shaking, you slowly stand and back away from him. For the first time ever…you are afraid of him.

The tumultuous noise alerts the bartender, who promptly yells at Arthur. “Hey, watch it! You gotta problem, you take it outside! Don’t be causing a ruckus around here!” He shoves his thick, meaty finger towards the doors. 

“Mind your own goddamn business ‘fore I give you a problem!” Arthur shouts back, now standing as well, leveling his gaze at the bartender. 

With Arthur distracted by the barkeep, you turn and push your way through the now-curious crowd and make a dash for the door. 

Your feet clumsily carry you down the steps as you sprint into the street, eyes watering and hands trembling from anger. 

“Hey! Hey! (Y/N)!” It doesn’t take long before you hear Arthur’s gravelly voice hollering down the street for you. 

“Leave me alone, Arthur!” you shout over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. Tears of anger are dangerously close to flowing as you walk even faster, your arms pumping back and forth to propel you further down the road. But Arthur is quick to catch up to you with his long strides.

“Where you goin’?” You can hear him quickly stalking up behind you, his spurs jingling heavily in the dirt of the street. 

“Doesn’t matter, right? I don’t belong here, remember?” You throw his words back into his face with such a biting tone. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s a seat next to Robert on the damn train!”

“Like hell you will!” Arthur yanks on your arm, his grip painful like a vice, spinning you around. 

But before you can even think clearly, your hand flies as if of its own accord, and you hear the sharp smack land across his cheek, cracking in the air before you feel the sting against your delicate hand. Arthur’s head snaps to the side from the strike, his eyes twisted shut from the impact.

Gasping, your eyes shoot open in shock as your hands immediately cover your mouth. You stand there, silent and trembling. Your chest heaves with broken breathing and choked sobs as you take a few steps back from him. You hate him so much right now. Not because of what he’s said, although that is bad enough, but because he has pushed you to this point. You never, ever want to hurt him. Arthur is dearer to you than life itself. You had never imagined raising a hand or weapon to the man you so desperately love, and yet, he has pushed you, backed you into a corner, to do so. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” you utter, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears as your unwavering gaze never leaves his face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. As you blink rapidly, a tear finally escapes your lower lash to cascade and roll over your hot cheek. 

Arthur freezes before his gaze slowly turns back to you. But what he sees shocks him. The very sight of you in your heightened state almost breaks his heart in two. Shame coats his insides as he realizes his jealousy has gotten the best of him. And the pain and fear in your eyes is worse than any bullet to the gut, rocking him to his very core. 

Arthur’s expression journeys from one of rage to shock to one of absolute remorse. He says nothing, which begins to terrify you even more. Arthur is known for his temper, even taking his frustrations out on you when needed. You pride yourself on the notion that Arthur may be difficult to handle but never for you. You have always been able to read him, to know his mind better than himself, which is why he relies on you so greatly. You set his world to right when it goes off-kilter. But now, you feel a great divide between you. You stare at him with no idea of what will happen next. 

Arthur’s strong arms extend out towards you as a silent apology. But instead of falling into them, you shrink back from him. He halts immediately, turning his palms up in surrender. But slowly, he steps a bit closer to you. Arthur reaches out again, wrapping his hands carefully around your biceps. He can feel you tremble slightly under his fingertips. 

Regret sits heavily upon his brow. You can see the self-reproach embedded into his eyes as he stares into yours, searching for forgiveness that he prays you’ll grant him.

Your eyes leave his face, a silent understanding settling between you as you focus on the buttons of his shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with his calming breath. 

With a deep sigh, he silently escorts you into the privacy of the immediate alley, gently pushing you back against the siding of the post office. 

“You’re mine.” Arthur does not say this out of anger or possession. Nor has he faltered into a blubbering mess. He simply utters the statement as pure fact, no question.  

“Am I?” you stammer. Your eyes lift to search his, looking for any doubt that may still linger. 

“You sure as shit are.” Arthur’s voice is low but carries the loving undertone you always take refuge in as the slightest hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Really? Ten minutes ago, you were ready to let me walk out that door. Told me that I shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur pulls his lips inward at the dismay in your quaking voice. “I shouldn’t ‘ve said that. That was me being a goddamn idiot. But, it is true, ya know. You don’t belong in that gang, Y/N. I keep tellin' ya you’re too good for it. You deserve the finer things in life, things like Robert can give ya.” 

Your shoulders fall with a painful sigh as your eyes gently drift shut again. You are so tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“But,” he continues, “I do want you there. I want you with me. I need you, Y/N. We need you. It’s selfish, I know.” His chin bobs slightly in acknowledgement. “God forgive me, but we do.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Arthur. I want to belong somewhere. And to someone.” You look at Arthur with an almost desperate expression on your face. Your whole life, you’ve been floating like a leaf in the wind, bobbing about with no particular place to land. You thought you had finally found your place, your home, with the Van Der Linde gang, no matter how unlikely it seemed. And when Arthur threw it back in your face, it was like being pushed off a cliff to free-fall backwards with no one to catch you. 

He lifts his rough hand to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “I won’t ever let you go, Y/N. Not ever. Not even if someone else comes along.” Your eyes begin to flutter again as the feeling of his skin on yours reassures you. You wrap your own hands around his wrist, holding his hand in place as you lean your face into his warm palm.

“Arthur, I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. The way you make me feel when I look at you is why I could never look at another.” Your eyes sparkle brightly in earnest, the last of your tears rimmed along your lashes. 

He only hesitates a moment before he pulls you close to him. He secures you safely against him where you belong, your chest pressed up against his as powerful arms coil around you to lock you in. Arthur lowers his face to nudge your nose with his before planting his lips to kiss you slow and deep, taking your breath away.

When his lips separate from yours, Arthur briefly rests his forehead on yours before pulling back to look into your face once more. His eyes are intense and reflect a deeper shade of blue than you’ve ever seen. A wolfish grin begins to emerge under that peppered beard stubble as his finger tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like I said, Y/N, you…are…mine.”

[moviecritc]

second best ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x teammate!reader

summary: max realizes that your situationship isn't going anywhere, so he decides to start a pr relationship for his own public image

word count: 1K

warnings: angst, hurt without comfort

a/n: this turned out amazing actually, i'm very proud of it <3 yk i loveee to write abt this blond dutch

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

“I think it's better if we stop seeing each other.”

Y/N frowned slightly. She was under Max's arm, lying on the bed in the hotel in Imola.

“We’re on the same team, Maxie. We see each other all the time,” she said, completely oblivious to what Max was saying. She even smiled a little.

“I mean this,” Max sat up, forcing her to do the same. He swallowed a bit. “I think we should stop sleeping together.”

Y/N pressed her lips together and wiped the trace of sweat from her forehead. “Oh,” was all she could articulate as she chewed over that sentence. “Why?”

“For our careers,” he said immediately, as if he had it premeditated. “There are already a lot of rumors, if this got out…”

“What?” That didn’t make any sense. “We've been sleeping together for over a year, and now all of a sudden you're worried about rumors. Don’t bullshit me, Max. What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N felt around the edge of the bed, searching for her underwear.

“I'm telling you, this is affecting our careers.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and stood up, finishing getting dressed. “Bullshit, Max. When you want to tell me what's really going on, let me know.”

Y/N left the room, slamming the door. Max leaned back, knowing that Y/N was right. It wasn’t about their careers, but about the pressure. His father and the rest of the team were pressuring him to have a relationship with a model, and YN was an obstacle in that equation.

Max never explained anything to her. They stopped seeing each other outside of work environments and even while working, they avoided each other as much as possible. Y/N refused to feel hurt. It wasn’t a breakup because there was nothing to break. In the end, they were just two teammates with too much sexual tension to satisfy. Even if that tension lasted a year and a half, three vacations together, a Christmas dinner, and countless private dates.

Y/N was determined to move on, focusing on her job, fighting for the title, and maybe—just maybe—accepting that date with Carlos at the end of the season.

But Max had other ideas, because two weeks after the breakup, the pages were on fire because finally, someone had conquered the cold heart of Max Verstappen. He and a woman nine years older had been seen dining and kissing in Monaco.

She was surprised, that was the last thing she expected from Max. Nine years older than him. Y/N couldn't help but dig a little, stalking her profile and seeing how pretty she was. That really hurt, had it meant so little to him?

Y/N flew to Monaco alone when she used to go in Max's private jet. From then on, she realized how much Max was in her routine. Arriving at her apartment, she found it cold with the plants dried up; she hardly had any clothes there. She knew she’d have to write to Max to get her things back, but she delayed it as long as possible—which wasn’t long. Y/N wrote to her friends to see if they wanted to go out, but no one responded; she hadn't written to them in over four months.

She spent that night alone at home, looking at her phone every now and then without expecting any messages. She found herself drinking and then went out for a walk, desperate to feel something. The next morning, photos of her were out, looking horrible with traces of mascara under her eyes. She also woke up to a simple message from Max:

Can we meet?

They agreed to meet at her apartment, Y/N knew the way almost with her eyes closed.

“Good morning,” said Max. He looked as usual, shorts and a t-shirt, a bit of gel in his hair, and clean-shaven.

“Hello,” Y/N said, clearing her throat. She stood still at the door until Max motioned for her to come in.

“Come in, please,” he said calmly. She nodded and entered, looking for traces of that woman, though the apartment still smelled of her perfume.

“Is she not here?” she asked, turning on her heels to look at him.

“No. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You want to talk to me about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

She let out a laugh, the same thing she had told her friends at a dinner while he had a hand almost reaching her inner thigh.

“You never have girlfriends, do you?”

“Y/N, it’s not what you think.”

She crossed her arms. “You know what I think? I think you’re a hypocrite. A damn hypocrite who, because I didn’t suit him, found someone easier.”

Max approached Y/N. “It’s PR, they forced me.”

“They forced you?” she let out a painful laugh. “Did they force you before or after ending things with us?”

Max stayed silent. They had pressured him, but the final decision had been his. He couldn’t find a way to explain himself. That silence meant everything to Y/N.

“You're pathetic. Totally pathetic.”

“Y/N, I’m sor-” he took half a step towards her but backed off immediately.

“Bullshit,” Y/N exploded. “Do you think apologizing is enough? You treated me like a fucking toy, damn it.”

“I didn't… I never wanted to hurt you,” Max choked on his words.

“But neither did you want to treat me well.”

Max stayed silent, feeling like the stupidest man on earth. He wanted to shout that she was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time while kissing her until he ran out of breath. But he said nothing. Y/N looked away with a long sigh.

“I’m going to collect my clothes,” she said, clearly disappointed in her voice. She hoped that Max would follow her, not let her pack her things and beg her to stay. That he’d tell her she was worthy of love.

Max waited, sitting on his couch, running his hands over his face, searching for the words.

Y/N came out of the room and walked past the living room, intending to leave without saying goodbye.

“I'll break up with Kelly,” Max stood up, stopping her with his words.

“Do you think that will help? You’ll still hide me as if you’re ashamed.”

“Y/N…” He couldn’t find the words.

“No. I'm leaving. I'm tired. Of you and all your crap.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What profession do you see Harry in? When I was younger I was adamant he would have been a professor. After reading the book again in my late 20’s I can’t see it anymore. I think he would have been a Auror because solving mysteries and catching felons would intrigue him more than dealing with a bunch of students grading papers. I think he would get bored and would resign after a year or two. I know people who love professor Harry love pointing out him teaching in Dumbledore’s Army and I think people forget he only had to do the practical part, not the theory aspect. I can’t image him reading multiple essays on the same topic. It would drive him bonkers. (Hermione would be in cloud 9 though). I love teaching my nephew and his friends how to play soccer, would I ever take it as a profession? Never. It’s a part time passion not a career. Im sure he made surprise visits to Hogwarts as a guest lecturer but that’s it. In an AU where Jily lived I could see Harry becoming a quidditch player or even taking a liking to potions because of his mom who didn’t put the bitter taste in his mouth like Snape. In canon the only two careers I could see holding his attention is curse breaker and being an Auror, purely because of the mystery of solving puzzles and being on his feet. The one thing I still agree with my younger self is Harry would have returned for his 8th year and so would have Ron. I think he needs a year to just be a kid who sneaks around the castle exploring different corridors to make out with Ginny. 

Well, I do like the idea of Harry returning to teach DADA at Hogwarts, as I mentioned here, here & here. Though, an anon did bring up a cool idea for Harry to be more of a private investigator than an auror for a few years before becoming a DADA professor. I just don't see Harry as someone who'd be good at receiving orders and working within the ministry. Like, with everything that happened with the ministry in the final 3 books, I find it kinda insane Harry chooses to work there after we spent 3+ books going over how corrupt and ineffectual they are and how much Harry dislikes it. It just feels iffy to me.

I think Harry would surprise you with his patience, honestly. I think he is very capable of reading dozens of essays about the same thing and grading them. Like, the fandom likes to forget it, but Harry read all his course books before first year:

Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. 

(PS)

He does do reading and research on his own and with Hermione when he needs/wants to:

There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend. Harry still hadn’t mastered Summoning Charms, he seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. They consequently spent a lot of time poring over books during their lunchtimes.

(GoF)

Harry was already hurrying up the spiral staircase to his dormitory. . . . He would grab the Invisibility Cloak and go back to the library, he’d stay there all night if he had to. ... “Lumos,” Harry whispered fifteen minutes later as he opened the library door. Wand tip alight, he crept along the bookshelves, pulling down more books — books of hexes and charms, books on merpeople and water monsters, books on famous witches and wizards, on magical inventions, on anything at all that might include one passing reference to underwater survival. He carried them over to a table, then set to work, searching them by the narrow beam of his wand, occasionally checking his watch. ...

(GoF)

Harry is so capable of sitting down and grading essays if he wants to. He's actually not averse to studying and reading at all, not on his own. He's just mirroring Ron and the other Gryffindor boys to fit in because it's what Harry does.

He'd be one of the teachers who give bonus points if a student writes something funny in their essay, I just know it.

Also, even for the DA, he actually made lesson plans:

Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts, which had superb, moving color illustrations of all the counterjinxes and hexes it described. Harry flicked through the first volume eagerly; he could see it was going to be highly useful in his plans for the D.A.

Like, he read through Defence books and organized plans for spells to teach, in what order, and how to teach them. Harry spends a lot of time thinking about the DA in his head in OotP. About the successes of his students that he feels so proud of but also when he's gonna do the next meeting and what he'd teach.

90% of his DADA professors can't say the same.

Also, Harry actually kept track of the state of every student and applied the teaching method best for them and didn't pick favorites:

They all divided up obediently; Harry partnered Neville as usual. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of “Impedimenta!” People froze for a minute or so, during which their partners would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx. Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Harry had unfrozen three times in a row, he had Neville join Ron and Hermione again so that he could walk around the room and watch the others. When he passed Cho she beamed at him; he resisted the temptation to walk past her several more times.

(OotP)

Like, the fact he wanted to pay more attention to Cho and then didn't because he knows that's not what he should do as a teacher is already better than a good chunk of Hogwarts professors (McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore, and Slughorn all clearly have favorites).

Like, Harry is putting into the DA more effort than just showing them practically what they need to do. He spends all his lessons with Umbridge thinking about the DA. He reads and studies so he can teach them better. He put a lot of effort into it.

Not to mention Harry was dealing with the DA that included about 30 members compared to the average Hogwarts class, where a professor only needs to manage 20 students in the classroom.

As for 8th year. Yeah, I like to think he comes back. I think it'll be a good healing opportunity for him. Though, I personally do not envision him making out with Ginny since I don't like Hinny. But the idea is that the poor boy needs a break.

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Hiay so read the one you did for sebastian vettel the one where they break up??

What if xoz did a part two??

Where maybe it is rumoured that reader has started dating mark or jenson? But not really casue he did to show that seb still loves her

Shenanigans happens and in the end seb and reader are back together?

Thank you ❤️❤️

a/n: Thank you for requesting! Part two takes place around five years later. Sebastian drives for Ferrari. 

Part 1

Couple of years have passed since your breakup. You thought you moved on but you couldn’t bring yourself to get in a relationship with anyone other than Sebastian. You had no idea how he was doing. Anything you knew came from a tabloid or scant information provided by your mutual friends. He seemed more mature and calm than before which made your heart ache as the lack in those aspects caused your splitting. 

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, the hum of the paddock a distant murmur as he scrolled through his phone. His eyes widened as he stumbled upon the latest headline: "Mark Webber's New Flame: Sebastian Vettel's Ex?" He clicked on the article, his heart pounding as he saw pictures of you and his now ex-coworker at a charity event, laughing and appearing close. The rumors spread like wildfire, and his mind raced with a mix of jealousy and sadness.

He tossed his phone onto the table, frustration bubbling up inside him. The thought of you with Mark stirred something deep within - a realization of how much he still cared about you. The memory of your breakup, the harsh words exchanged, and the lingering pain of your absence came rushing back. He had been trying to move on, he changed a lot during the last couple of years, but seeing you with someone else, especially Mark, made it impossible to ignore his true feelings.

A few days later, after a practice session, Sebastian found himself pacing in his hotel room. His mind was a cluster of thoughts, and he couldn't shake the image of you and Mark together. He knew he had to talk to you, to clear the air. He couldn’t believe it was true. You two hadn’t spoken for a long time but dating Mark was unlike you. 

He picked up his phone and hesitated for a moment before typing a message: "Can we meet? I need to talk to you”. He still had your number saved on his phone, hoping for a moment like this one where with a rush of adrenaline he would text you.

The reply came quicker than he expected: "What happened to “hi, how are you”? Sure. How about that cafe near the circuit tomorrow at 3?"

The next afternoon, Sebastian arrived at the cafe, his heart pounding with nerves. He spotted you sitting at a corner table, looking even more beautiful than the day you two broke up and certainly more beautiful than in the pictures alongside Mark. As he approached, you glanced up, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and anxiety.

"Hi, Seb," you greeted him softly, a hesitant smile on your lips.

"Hi," he replied, taking a seat across from you. For a moment, there was an awkward silence as you both gathered your thoughts.

"I saw the article," he finally said, breaking the tension. "About you and Mark".

You sighed, shaking your head and smirking. "It's not what you think. Mark and I are just friends. The media blew it out of proportion, as usual. You know I wouldn’t break up with you and just go date your enemy”.

Relief washed over him, but he still felt the need to explain. "When I saw those pictures, it hit me hard. Not because I don't trust you or I'm not a fan of his, but because it made me realize how much I still care about you. Even after all those years".

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I never stopped thinking about you. I know I messed up, and I've spent every day regretting it. The partying, the distractions - I let them come between us, and it was the worst mistake of my life."

"Seb..." you started, but he cut you off gently. "Please, let me finish. I've changed. I’ve had to face some hard truths about myself, and I realize now what I lost. Seeing those rumors made me confront the fact that I still love you. I never stopped loving you. I have changed a lot, you know it".

You were silent for a moment, processing his words. Then, you reached out and took his hand, your touch sending a jolt of warmth through him. "I never stopped loving you either, Seb. But things can't just go back to the way they were. We have both evolved".

He nodded, squeezing your hand. "I understand. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I just want a chance to make things right”.

A small smile spread across your lips. "Then let's take it slow, one step at a time. We'll see where this goes".

Sebastian's heart swelled with hope. "I'd like that. More than anything. So, how have you been? What were you up to for those past years?”.

As you both sat there, hand in hand, the world outside the cafe seemed to fade away. For the first time in a long while, Sebastian felt a sense of peace and excitement thinking about your relationship. You spent hours catching up, getting to know each other and rebuilding broken bridges between you. 

Not even half a year later the two of you were spotted walking hand in hand and giggling. This time the headlines weren’t lying. 

June 9, 2024

[guiltysungho]

— Daybreak

genre : tags. fluff, summer romance, small town romance, angst (?), found family (?)

pairing. barista!sungho x fem!reader (she/her used)

wordcount. 3714

a/n. submission for the onedoornet summer event. i love writing stories set in the summer tbh most of my stuff is set in summer lol. this is heavily inspired by summerstrike, favorite k drama !! ty to @ddingdongz + @loserlvrss for helping beta reading this.

@onedoornet

Picture this. An empty room, your empty room, with you in the middle of it taking in the nothingness of it all. You tried to see it a different way, but that was all it was, an empty room that would probably stay that way unless you chose to fill up the space. A thought that often crossed your mind but never got any further.

The summertime somehow made it worse for you, with no plans you were forced to stay 24 hours in that void. The hours you would have usually spent in the office performing remote tasks with radio noise thoughts, you now have to spend in complete consciousness. You would try to distract yourself, but it was always the same thing every day, the same dreams wasting away.

This was the only life you knew; you had a job and place to stay, you had to find contentment in what you had, but it was harder than that. Maybe you had to seek out new perspectives to understand how to live again.

Run away and leave it all behind, the first step would always be the hardest but once it was done, it would be up to you. Small drops make a mighty ocean, right?

One day was all you needed, you would take the first bus in the morning to wherever it leads you and then… you would just try to live for once. Forget that your room is empty and that your dreams aren’t as easy to achieve so you could have a clear mind for the future.

No matter how much you planned, you would never know what exactly you would meet there so you kept the planning minimal, trusting fate to make the day memorable.

At 4 am, you were ready at the bus stop waiting with three other people in complete silence, half asleep as you stood there. The bus arrived soon enough, and you let yourself doze off by the tinted windows, counting the cars passing by.

8 am and you were finally there, you weren’t entirely sure where “there” was, but you were somewhere else and that felt like an achievement in itself. The sky was already well lit up, clear and blue. Everything seemed so new, so different even the sky looked a different shade of blue. The seagulls cried loudly echoing back and forth as you walked along the roadside, the ocean filled the horizon swaying along with the wind, crashing against the sandy beach.

You made up your mind to stay on the beach for a while, long enough for hunger to settle in, and you would figure out your next stop from there. You had been used to seeing crowded beaches so much in your life that you had forgotten how beautiful the ocean was, how calming the beach could be. The fresh smell of sea-life, calm breeze rushing through your hair as you sat there on the sand watching the push and pull.

You thought of taking a commemorative photo, but you had the funny idea to “forget” your phone this morning. You had this useless attachment to it, even when you were doing nothing productive on it. So, you figured it wouldn’t be necessary, and maybe you were right, but you wanted to keep this image safe from the inaccuracy of memories.

It was just as you dreamt it, the quiet, the peace, you could sit there for ages, let the sand envelop you and become a timeless myth, an artifact forever tied to the spot, but you had other plans.

Checking the watch around your wrist, you read the time, 9:43 am. A good time for breakfast. The problem now was finding where to eat breakfast, but you needed to not know so you could want to find out. So, you walked around, letting your feet lead you wherever, through all sorts of streets looking around for any kind of food.

It felt like a long search, but you had walked for less than 30 minutes before you found a nice cafe, deeper into the town, further from the beach but it held the essence of the ocean, encapsulated in all sorts of trinkets decorating the space.

A chiming ring echoed across the room as you stepped in, not a single person in sight for the first few minutes. It seemed empty despite the sign on the door that read “open”, so decided to move on. Almost like he heard your footsteps, ready to walk out the door, a tall young man came out from the back, tying his hair together and out of his face as he smiled at you.

“Welcome, please make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right with you.” You took a couple steps closer, completely hypnotized by the young man’s beauty, taking a seat right by the counter.

He somehow looked the part, exactly how one would imagine a barista in a small town in the middle of nowhere, precisely out of a daydream.

He handed you a menu before retreating back to the kitchen in the back. You scanned through meticulously, picking enough food to keep you filled for the rest of the day.

He came back out to meet you, this time with a name tag on, Sungho you thought as he asked you for your order.

“Long trip?” He smiled at the small list you had picked out from the menu, you nodded in response with a thin smile trying to ignore the urge you felt to stare at him. 

“It might take a few, I’m the only one in today.” you let him know you were in no rush, and just like that he left the room with a thumbs up and a smile.

It was a shorter wait than you’d expected considering it was just him in the kitchen. He’d started bringing over side dishes for you 10 minutes in, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he placed the plates in front of you. A few strands fell out of the grip of the hair tie falling perfectly on his face, he sighed, shaking the hair at his face before looking at you. 

He thought about it for a second, leaning in as he spoke, “Sorry to ask this but could you push this strand behind my ear?” you stared at him wide eyed, blinking at his face right in front of yours.

You reach for the hair hesitantly, carefully pushing it behind his ear. He flashed a thankful grin, backing up completely and out of the room.

After nearly an hour you got your full meal, your first meal of the day, and probably your last, so you ate it like it was. Big portions, cheeks filled, satisfied groans. Completely forgetting the other presence in the room.

He was looking at you, watching you purse your lips as you chewed on the food, the moment you looked up you were met with his stare, your eyes widened from the sudden eye contact.

“Sorry,” he chuckles nervously looking away from you, “…Are you here on vacation?”

“Oh yeah, I’m just here for the day.” you answer finishing the last crumbs off your dish. 

“What are you hoping to find here?” He asks curiously with an amused expression. The question sets you off into a whole explanation on your boring life and your strong will to see new things. You aren’t sure you will find what you were looking for here but that’s somehow part of the journey.

“…I guess I just want to see the world now, instead of locking myself inside.” you let out a light laugh, as if to lighten the mood after your slight rant.

“That’s really cool. I think you’ll like it here.”

“Really?” you beam, he lets out a light chuckle as he nods grabbing your empty plates to clear the space.

“Honestly. I could show you around a bit if you want.” he disappears into the kitchen as he suggests it. You sit  there with a smile on your face waiting for him to enter the room again to accept his proposition. 

“I’d love that, I didn’t really have a plan so you’d be helping me out a lot.” 

“Perfect. I’ll just clear up this place and close up for the day.” you mouth a quiet oh, surprised he would close the whole shop to help you. He notices and smiles reassuring you, “Don’t worry it’s usually empty on Saturdays.”

After a short wait he steps out with a light linen summer shirt, his hair is untied, shaping his face perfectly. When you thought he couldn’t get more attractive he just embodies the idea of a summer crush. He gives you a gentle smile gesturing for you to follow him out the back door, you watch him lock the doors waiting closely behind.

This was one of those things you would have never done a month ago and standing there you realize how absurd the idea of following a man around in a place he knew so well while you knew nothing about was, but for some reason you felt you had nothing to lose in the moment. Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s incredibly attractive.

He introduces you to his bicycle, letting you know that that was his means of transport and so it would be yours. Biking seemed more appealing to you, it had been a while since you had been on a bike so when you hold onto him as he rides by the beach it feels like a lost memory that you had forgotten in the midst of all your working. You listen to the seagulls cry, feel the nice summer breeze on your face as the hot sun taps on your skin reflecting yellow beams onto the canvas.

Even his presence feels like a strongly cemented part of the memory, like he made it whole, you could feel him so close under the thin fabric of his shirt and it made you realize that the touch of a human was something you had been missing for the longest time.

“It’s really nice here.” You hum, resting the side of your face on his back.

“Yeah it feels like home.” He says with a smile looking over his shoulder to look at you. 

“Isn’t it home for you?” He nods as he turns back to the road, turning into streets, waving to the townspeople, before answering you. 

“I guess you’re right..” he let out a light chuckle, his bright smile lingering as he continues, “I actually moved here when I turned 18, I just needed to get away and I found myself here.” 

“Wow, that's such a bold move.”

“Yeah it was so out of character for me but I needed to and it was probably the best decision I’ve made.” he slows down his peddling gradually before stopping in front of a big house. You had been riding uphill for a while and now you could see why. 

The whole ocean right beneath you, you could see everything so clearly and it was so beautiful. You could feel your eyes glistening as you looked at the landscape with so much marvel. A sudden realization that life isn’t supposed to be dull, it’s meant to be filled with beauty and splendor. 

“This is so…” you look around searching for a greater word to describe all that you are feeling but nothing comes close. 

You only realize you are still on the bike once he gets up, taking your hand to help you off as well. He looks at you pleased, that you enjoy the sight as much as he did when he’d been here for the first time. 

“Come, let me show you something.” You follow behind him eagerly, watching him ring the doorbell to the only house that stood on the hill.  

The door opens soon enough and there stands an old lady with the kindest smile and soft rosy cheeks. You watch him give her a hug as he greets her, letting her place a kiss on his head.  

“And this is your girlfriend.” Before either of you is able to deny the claims, she gives you a warm hug. Such a loving hug you don’t want it to end, the type of hug you needed daily. 

“Such a lovely girl, what’s your name darling?” You give her a polite smile as you answer, letting her soft hands hold onto your for a little longer. 

You glance up to find Sungho staring at the both of you with a soft smile, your eyes meet and he gives you an apologetic pout. 

“Mamie,” she turns over to him still holding your hands, “I wanted to ask you a favor.” She rushes over to him. 

He leans towards her and whispers a few words to her, making your curiosity grow, her smile grows as she listens to his request and as soon as he’s done she goes back into her house, leaving you there clueless. 

You turn over to him, narrowing your eyes with curiosity, he flashes a smile before turning away, waiting for her to reappear. 

“Here you go darling.” She walks up to you and hands you an ethereal conch shell. You had never seen one before but you never knew they could be so pretty. You stare at it for a couple seconds completely in awe, before looking up to her with a grateful smile. 

She stretches her arms out once again for you, hugging her tightly as you thank her. “Sungho could use the company. He doesn’t like mentioning it but I know. So if you’re ever thinking of coming back, don’t hesitate, just come, okay?” 

After saying your goodbyes, you get back on the bike, riding downhill back into town. Her words stay stuck on your mind as you ride through the small streets, a reminder that you would be leaving after today and you would have to accept that. Every part of you wanted to stay.  

“Was she a relative of yours?” you ask looking over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around his waist and he peddles. 

“Not biologically. When I first got here I was stranded but she took me in, and I stayed there on the hill for a while.” He explains as you arrive on a market street, a small crowd walking through the street, “This is where the fun happens, trust me.” 

He parks his bike in a hidden spot, helping you off and ready to guide you through the small market. You glance up at him amused by the liveliness in the street, such a crowd in such a seemingly empty town. 

A light tap on the back of your head makes you look down at your hand, you look up at him curiously. He takes your hand in his as you stare into his eyes with a puzzled look, pulling you closer, and leaning to your ear. 

“It can get a bit rough so just stay close, okay?” You nod at him, letting him guide you through the small crowd. 

As you walk together, he tells you about each stand and how the market works, how it changes depending on the month and the regular stands that people line up for. It could have been the least interesting topic but for some reason you were fascinated by the community, the dedication of each person to hold a stand as early as 7 in the morning. 

“Do you hold a stand for your coffee shop sometimes?” He smiles at the question, nodding in response. 

“Sometimes, but it’s mostly for festivals or big events. The market is more for the necessities and street foods.” Just as he mentioned it a savory smell hit your nose, you turn to the stand beside you watching the lady behind it cook the snack with extreme focus.  

He notices you staring and stops in front of the spot, to let you taste the speciality. The lady looks up from her workspace and her expression brightens as she sees Sungho, and even more when she notices you. 

“Sungho! Is this your girlfriend?” He shakes his head letting out an awkward laugh. “What are you waiting for?”

“She’s not from here.” She frowns for a second before glancing at you. 

“Do you like the town?” She asks you, hands still working on the food making. You nod, answering her with a polite smile. 

“She likes it here. You’re stalling.” 

“How am I—“ 

“Here’s a snack young lady, take care of the boy for us, okay?” You laugh softly as you accept the treat, he reaches out for his wallet and the lady smacks his hand. “Keep it and start saving up for the ring.” She laughs a mocking laugh before going back to her work, leaving the both of you stunned.  

Walking away neither of you speaks for a bit, just snickering as you walk side by side, “I’m sorry about that.” He says with a smile, you shake your head completely dismissing it, giggling as you did. 

You walk around a bit more, eating your snacks together and looking at the different stands. Watching the owners show off their craft, getting interrogated by the townsfolk on your relationship. You enjoy every moment with him, even just walking in complete silence feels right and you just met him. 

All your life you had been looking for this, you dreamt of being close to someone beyond the materialistic standards, of being with someone you could just be with and right now that was all you could feel. You hadn’t come to this place to find someone to help you out of your misery but you found someone and it was nice. 

But it only makes you dread the moment when his comforting presence wouldn’t be so close. He stops by one of the stalls, and you follow. A jewelry stand, handmade crafts with sea life trinkets, pearls, shells, squid ink, it is all so unique. You watch him look at the pieces, scanning through the selection before landing his eyes on one. 

He takes it from the display, a teardrop shaped pendant with sea water inside, dangling off a silver chain. He glances at you and then at the necklace, before asking to pay for it. After that he keeps it to himself, fidgeting with the paper bag it was in, waiting for the right moment to hand it to you. 

The walk soon ends and you take the bike once again, this time he rides you down to the beach, almost as empty as in the morning. You sit together on the sand just as you did in the morning and for the first time since you saw him you check the time. 5:27 pm, the day is nearly over, but you’re still enjoying it. 

“When will you be heading back? I’ll take you to the station.” He says quietly, eyes on the vast horizon. 

“I’m not sure I was planning for 7:30 maybe?” He nods, registering the information. “When is the last bus?” 

He turns to you, surprised by the question and somewhat relieved, that you didn’t want to leave so soon, “10pm, they don’t go too late here since nobody is really coming and going.” 

Those 5 hours seem like nothing, you want to stay forever but it would be irresponsible, irrational, you had to go back. You sigh, it wouldn’t be responsible to tell him how much you enjoyed his company today, since you weren’t sure when you would be back but you could feel the words itching at your throat. 

“I really liked spending time with you today, y/n.” He says, staring at the sand below you, voicing out your thoughts before you can. 

“I did too, you really did make me like it here.” 

“I’m glad.” He turns to you with a smile, it takes everything in you to not kiss him then and there. His hair flows in the wind, orange sun shining on his skin.  

“I don’t want to leave.” The words slip out mindlessly, as you stare at him.  

“Then don’t.” His stare shows more intent, all the begging he couldn’t do, his eyes reveal, “You came just like I did, with a backpack and now look at me, I’m running a coffee shop.” 

You give him an apologetic smile, it was too much for you leaving a whole life behind. You could come back eventually, but right now you couldn’t stay. 

“You can come work with me at the shop. The ladies in town are so welcoming, they’ll help you with everything.”

“Sungho… it’s not that easy.” He sighs, nodding as he turns back to the calm ocean view. 

“I know… It was worth the try though.” He laughs softly, you smile, taking his hand in yours. 

“I promise I will come back though.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You feel your heart bounce at the sound of those words, he makes you feel so special in everything he does. 

You stay there on the beach till the sun sets, enjoying the last moments together without thinking of the looming separation that is awaiting you. Once you reach the bus station, it’s about 9:48 pm and time is still moving as much as you wish it would stop for you. 

You look at him once more, one last time, he finally hands you the paper bag with the necklace he’d bought earlier. “A small souvenir, just for memories.” 

You ask him to put it on for you and he does. Pushing your hair aside, standing so close behind you, you could feel his breath. He comes back to your view after hooking it, looking at you with a pleased smile. Such a small pendant, yet it elevates your beauty in so many ways. 

The last call for the bus brings you both back to the moment. You both walked towards the bus the whole way in silence, waving each other goodbye as you entered the vehicle. You watch him out the window, as the bus starts he stands there looking at you. The words are inaudible but you can tell what he says as the bus drives off: “I’ll miss you y/n.”

[great-and-small]

Your blog is lovely and I love learning things from it and when you talk about native or non native plants and such, but I wanted to ask; How do you know which is which?

Are there specific search terms I can use to find out for my own area? or books?

I like teaching myself stuff, but this is one of those things that I have no idea where to start really

Love this question! Truthfully I am still very much a novice at identifying the vast majority of plants and animals out there, but I am constantly making use of the information at my disposal in order to learn more. We are so lucky to have such a wealth of knowledge about the natural world so close at hand!

I have a bachelors in biology with a focus in conservation, but even so I would say that a majority of my field identification skills are self-taught. I cannot recommend enough utilizing citizen science apps to get familiar with your native fauna!

I once spent a single summer where I challenged myself to take a photo of every single animal (bird, insect, fish, etc) that I couldn’t identify by name. I would post the images on an app like iNatualist or another reliable identification forum, and once I had a name I’d do a little research to learn more about my neighbor. This is how I came to recognize quite a few introduced species that have made my ecosystem home.

If you ever find yourself with a little extra time (+/- money) on your hands, you could also consider taking an adult naturalist class. If you happen to live in the United States for example, most states have a certified master naturalist program that anyone over the age of 18 can sign up for to learn about the local ecosystems. This would be a fun, if a little more involved, way of getting familiar with your local flora and fauna.

[cephei-ea]

Genshin - Argument pt2

Characters: Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: You walked out after an argument and the guys are a mess

Warnings: cursing, mentions of assault, mugging, car crash and murder/kidnapping, ch*lde content, no HCs for this one sorry😔 Can be read as a stand alone but it may be confusing, refer to part one for a full experience. (Argument, genshin 2)

A/N: can you tell i rushed the fuck out of this after realizing how long it’s been since this was requested? This is not my best writing I have to admit my heat wasn’t in it for some reason and I’ve been super busy. I was hit by some old man in a sedan a few weeks ago and I only recently healed so I just finished. Enjoy

___

Diluc

Diluc ripped the blazer pulled taut around his strong torso off and discarded it haphazardly on the floor below. The material clacked together and landed with a dull thud with its weight in front of the fire. He stood, ripping his gloves off of his hands and loosening the shirt constricting his airway.

He hadn’t experienced true panic in a long time but the thought that you were most absolutely pissed off with him gave him chills that ran violently through the vertebrae of his spine. The fact that you up and left, intensified those chills. He was unsure whether you would be back tonight, next week or ever at all, but even considering entertaining the idea of you never returning to him made his blood boil beneath his veins despite his years upon long years of steeling himself and building walls up around himself. In his mind, you could do no wrong and if his dear lover had deemed it necessary to leave the house because something he said that had stung so badly, it must have been true that he deserved it.

Ripping the leather gloves from his hands, his skin crawled at the image of your back facing him. At the idea that you were somewhere he couldn’t find you and that you could have been in immense danger. At the sour, fist clenching reminder that despite the long hours of search he conducted for you, it proved inadequate, Diluc slammed his hands aggressively against the nearby ebony console stand. In one swift, yet piercingly angry motion, Diluc had belted every set of papers, folder, candle and any other item on the surface, to the floor. The crimson seeping from his hand did not cease for a moment and instead smeared against the wood of the console stand. The fire wielder dragged a hand through his unruly red hair and found that the knots building in his locks had become out of control. The hair tie used to keep his hair from his face was proving inadequate after so many hours of running and panicking.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of trashing his office and then another 30 spent roaming the winery aimlessly in search of the strongest liquor he had and knocking down anything in his way, Diluc sat down at his couch. With his messy thoughts and scrambled heart, the building was left in total shambles.

The fire in front of him was dimming, the numbness and amnesia it’s bright light and the buzz from the alcohol he managed to dig up gave him, at once began to fade. Luckily, with his worried heart and a pounding headache, the world favored Diluc and allowed him to find sleep. Though his rest was all but pleasant, Diluc awoke a much more sane man. His irrationality from the previous night of delirium had worn off and he was ready to ask around for you. Call in as many favors as he needed.

Against his plans and his wishes, before the redhead could manage to sit up, an aggressive, dull pounding emerged beneath the skin of his forehead. He fell immediately back onto the couch, gripping his head, skin wrinkled with pain. For a moment, Ragnvindr did not attempt to so much as open his eyes again until he was sure he wouldn’t fall on his ass or vomit the second he watched the world spin. What woke him, albeit the pain all over his body and the protests his muscles screamed at him, was the sound of the doors to the winery opening.

Had he lost his mind?

Diluc must have lost his mind.

The maids and butlers wouldn’t be here for another hour or two and the building, still, was a mess. To say the least. He shot up from his seat, praying that when he turned to the door, he would find a servant that arrived early, rather than a customer.

Not only were his expectations not met, but they were far, far exceeded at the same time. Instead, Diluc found himself staring at you as you gaped at the mess burdening the building. Your jaw all but dropped, wide eyes staring at the shattered glass of a vase he swore he liked when you asked him, papers and an old telephone from an antiques store you two visited in your free time left forgotten on the floor. Everywhere. Looking up, you noted that Diluc himself, had been mirroring his panicked mind in the state of his winery. His hair was ruffled and knotted, clothes from the night prior still glued to his body.

“Diluc what the hell happened!? Did someone break in!?” You shouted, kneeling in front of a flower vase nearby and lifting it back into place. You liked that one, thankfully it was intact. A painting of you two in your 2 year long honeymoon phase was tilted on the wall. “I leave for five minutes, Diluc!! What happened to you, why are you bleeding!?” The vase as well as the painting, however, were both quickly forgotten. You instead lent your focus to your lover, crawled out of the couch and staring at you like you weren’t real. A thick white wrapping of bandages covered your abdomen, wrapped around your waist and the smallest of patches of red had seeped through the side. Where the glass shard from earlier had hit you. Dilucs mouth hung agape, he couldn’t find the words to say to you before you were kneeled before him. Using your strength to gather him in your arms and help him up. Though it didn’t require much effort on your part, Diluc could feel you picking up the pieces right in front of him. The pieces of his heart that had dropped when you left. He was quick to wrap his muscle corded arms around your neck and hold you against him.

“I’m... so sorry.” He didn’t lift his head in fear that if he did, you would be reminded of what he did, and leave him again. “Don’t go. Please, don’t.” The red head was only put at ease when he felt your secure arms hold him back. And though your hands didn’t reach far enough to touch around his back, Ragnvindr had never felt so at home and so relieved than in your warm embrace. He finally allowed a sniffle to escape him; but was sure to block you from the view of the countless tears slipping down his cheeks. “Where- where can I go without you?” This failed, however, as it was all too clear that you’d heard his quiet sobs of relief and the desperation in his voice. The last question in his mind was whether or not you would forgive him or not. Whether or not you could move on and forgive his outburst. The fit of rage that had left a small gash on your abdomen. And even if you could find it in your heart to accept his apologies, Diluc knew this night would be branded into his memory with a hot iron rod. His fingers tightened against your clothes and the knight could swear he felt his knees weaken when he saw the blood staining your side. How could he ever recover from this? From such a wicked sin? He couldn’t, for once, imagine the day he would forget hurting the single most important person to him. The idea itself was so repulsively vile that his stomach tighten with the weight of his actions. He gently pressed his hand against the wound, through the pain seeding through his own skin. “Darling, I don’t have the words.” He shied from your gaze, constantly blinking away the tears that threatened to spill again. What could he say to you? How could he know what you were thinking?

“Okay- okay, Diluc come here.” You placed a hand against his and gently pried it from your side, instead placing your lips against his knuckles when you felt the tremble beneath his skin. And the crimson dripping down his arms and outlining his veins. “It’s alright-“

“It’s not. It’s not alright.” He suddenly spat, eyes having softened upon watching as you forgave him.

“Diluc it’s okay. I wouldn’t lie to you, alright?” The knight latched onto your hand so tightly, you feared it might have fallen off, should he have let go. “It’s okay.” Small sniffles, and another sob erupted from your ever stoic lover. Finally the walls of the strongest man you knew were coming down and you were awaiting readily to gather him in your arms and accept every apology he chanted.

Ch*lde

As soon as Tartaglia’s key alights his car with its colored LEDs, the gas pedal is nearly floored. You couldn’t have gotten far, surely. Surely, you were okay with all of the snow and slush caking the concrete roads at this ungodly hour. Surely, you would have kept a level head while driving and ensured your own safe. All the same, Childe gripped the steering wheel like it was keeping him from losing his shit. That it was. His eyes, burning bright and blue searched every bus stop, every bench, every dark sidewalk where you may have stopped.

“Crash reported ahead.”

His navigation blared, pumping a newfound level of fear into the blood of his popping veins. He never imagined a few words could end with the love of his life running in search of escape from him, of all people. That it could have resulted in the possibility of losing you so suddenly. That the consequence to his mistake would have been so grand. The ginger ground his teeth to dust, pressing on the gas until he was doubling the speed limit. Still, not a gust of a wind of your presence or merely your scent, whatsoever. Nevertheless, his speed did not hinder him from checking the car parked on the side of the road, it’s hood decimated horribly by a girthy tree. The second he did not recognize the vehicle, he sped on, sighing a breath of relief he had no idea he’d held in until the moment it escaped him. Childe could not comprehend all of the terrible things that might have happened to you in this cold, icy weather. Nor did he want to. The guilt from his having said something cruel enough to make you leave crushed him under its weight alone. The ginger wanted to pull out his hair. Might something have happened to you during the time which you were meant to be under his protection, his worries would not have lied with his reputation. But in the fear that you would not return to him.

Childe slammed his hand against the steering wheel, blaring his horn at a slow car in front of his. He didn’t have time for this. No time to wait for you. No time to wait on this perfectly sane person. No time to be waiting around for you as if you’d fall into his hold once again. He could not, Childe opted, give you the time to consider leaving him because you really would this time.

“Piece of shit.” He seethed through his teeth, swerving past the small Sudan as soon as a clearing to the side of the road opened wide enough. And it astounded him above all else, really, how fast you must have been going to have avoided his sights for so long. The wind howled, the blizzard seemed to pick up significantly, ice and snowflakes blaring at his window. It took the ginger all too long, too much driving, too much fear, too much gas to finally catch sight of the car you’d taken. Seeing it, a newfound relief washed over him like a tidal wave and he floored the gas pedal again. Childe thanked the good heavens that the freeway the two of you had entered was fairly unoccupied. Between the cars and the lanes of the road came opportunity for the ginger to swerve skillfully between tanks of metal in order to finally approach yours. You were quick to make your exit not long after, however. He was glad you didn’t seem to notice his car following you but as he thought about it, Childe hadn’t thought about what he would do when he found you. At the time of his chase, he had been too panicked to decide on how he would get you back home to him.

The car you’d picked came to a stop in front of the ocean. Though you couldn’t see the moon nor the stars, the blizzard seemed to have calmed momentarily. Hopefully, you thought, long enough to dip your toes in the freezing sea water and distract your mind from the screams of the argument you hadn’t resolved.

Childe watched you exit the car slowly, hair blowing wildly in the wind and frost almost instantly forming on the soft locks of your hair. You hadn’t expected it, despite the weather, to be so difficult to move your legs. To step away from the car you two shared and in your mind, just one step farther from a solution with your lover. Walking away from that car was like walking away from him, so your lead-heavy legs worked like steam engines to push you forward with your hesitation. It did not pass the harbinger how you had removed your shoes and left them in the car, reddening your toes and making your fingers tremble from the sheer cold. His panic hadn’t dissolved, however, and Childe struggled to unbuckle himself as quickly as possible. His lithe fingers fumbled hurriedly against his buckle and the car door handle. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fortunately for him, you stopped dead in your tracks the moment you heard his car door shut behind you. With wide eyes meeting his, you paced backwards.

How did he find you? You didn’t know. You thought you’d been sure you sped enough to escape him, even if he’d followed right after you (which you weren’t actually expecting). Just as quickly as you met his eyes, he’d sped to you so quickly you couldn’t back up. Childe looked livid, volatile and like if you said the wrong thing, he would turn red and explode. So you kept your mouth tightly shut when he picked you up and quite literally shoved you into his passenger seat. Finally sitting beside you once more, he looked to you, the windshield, down at his lap and back to you again. His hands trembled, unsure of whether to touch you, support his pounding head or slam against the wheel in frustration.

“What are you thinki-…. What were you thinking!!!???” Childe screamed at you, wiping a palm against his mouth in an attempt to calm himself. “Can you even fathom how afraid I was!? There is a Snezhnayan blizzard out here right now and you want to hit, what, 110 on the fucking highway!!?? Are you out of your mind!?” His eyes were red, a sudden change from his blue irises. “What if you crashed!!?? Huh!!?? What the fuck do I-…” he covered his mouth for a moment before continuing. “What am I supposed to do? If I can’t find you one day?” His tone was soft now, cold and shaky hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice and head resting against his forearms.

“You’re yelling at me again?” You spoke after many too moments of silence but Childe didn’t so much as lift his head. “Is this how you want it to be? Constantly screaming and cursing at each other over things that can be prevented?” You were sick of seeing merely his orange tuft of hair. How could you get him to meet your gaze? “How do you think I’ve felt for months now, Tartaglia?” The ginger immediately shook his head and for once leaned back into his seat.

“Don’t say that. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name.” The harbinger was long past recognizing his mistakes. His issue now was his guilt. Because, yes, he definitely knew how you felt. Those nights coming home half breathing had flown past him. Never would he have thought that they affected you so deeply, had you not said something. And at those times when he was so very tired, so very sore and ultimately craving sleep and nothing more, screams of displeasure and fear from his lover we’re of his least concern. He imagined you felt the same way at that moment. Listening to him scream about how you could have died had the highway not been so fortunately empty was likely nothing but a passing nuisance to you now. Hearing his harbinger name form on your tongue cut deeper than any wound he’d earned in battle. That name was reserved for those he did not trust and those who did not care for nor trust him either. The only name his ears craved to hear you speak was Childe, Ajax or a pet name. Now after such a long day and so much stress and screaming and driving, Childe swore he was going to have a heart attack if you continued using that godforsaken name of his.

“Try again. Maybe an apology, Tartaglia- why don’t we start with th-” you retorted, unprepared for him to cut you off with yet another scream.

“-That’s not my name!!!” He still wouldn’t opt to meet your eyes but you could tell he craved to with how his head shook. “I’m sorry. Okay, I’m sorry.” Finally his eyes were visible and you leaned forward to put yourself in his line of sight. Hesitant but relieved you didn’t seem angry, Childe finally complied. “I didn’t know it was so important and I brushed it off because I really didn’t think much of it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, if I knew it pained you this much I never would have ignored you.” He fought a small battle in his mind. Whether to try and grab your hand and selfishly soothe his own nerves with the softness of your skin or to allow you to come to him. He placed his shaky hand open in front of you, fingers bent and aching to enclose around yours. “Please. Don’t use that name.” If it made him feel like he’d lost you, it was clear you did not care. But when you placed your hand in his scarred palm, his fingers reacted like the teeth of a Venus flytrap and ensured you could not let go of him. He’d felt so sure of himself when he thought that you were overreacting when you scolded him for returning home hardly alive. Of course while it was clear to him how dangerous his line of work was, it hadn’t occurred to him that it would pain you emotionally as much as it did him physically.

“Okay, Childe. Tell me honestly. If me driving in the snow was so scary, how would you feel if I returned home every day from now on on the brink of death and bleeding into the carpet? Just imagine it-“ You’re voice shook with each word, holding back tears of frustration at the reminder of how much you despised the night time upon catching sight of his bandages again. The harbinger shook his head furiously in an instant. Then he did again, even more aggressively this time and his nails dug into your hand. He didn’t want to imagine that. He couldn’t. You reciprocated, knowing that he could imagine the stress he’d caused you. “Childe because I can’t-“ you clasped a hand over your mouth for a second and dragged it down with the tear that slipped past your defenses. “I can’t keep seeing you like that.” Your voice was a whisper and Childe took that as his queue to stop being pathetic. After all, he was the one who cursed himself to death or a fate worse than death a mere few minutes ago. A life without you. “And I can’t… literally can’t handle it. I’m not strong enough, I’m sorry. I never imagined you felt that you’d rather die than stay with me. If you felt that way you could have said something. I’m not here to hold you down and if you- if you di… die-“ your tongue went rigid. Hiccups and small gasps of fear erupted mortifyingly from your throat. You couldn’t finish your sentence fast enough before your lover yanked you into his embrace and curled his muscle-corded arms around you.

“My god I didn’t mean that. A life without you is worse than death. A life without you is stripped of meaning. Is bland and colorless. I can’t do…” he smooshed your face into his warm chest and you muffled a sob into his chest. “Cant do without you.” He rested his cheek on your head and rubbed it snuggly into you. “Love you so much. Cant leave me okay? Okay?” He chanted with a voice so genuinely dripping with honey that you quite literally melted into his arms. Your body went limp in his hold apart from your hands gripping the back of his black t-shirt. “You’re not leaving me. You can’t.” He smiled to himself, eyes red and trained on your smaller figure smooshed like slime to his. You only hummed in response. And if that meant you would die before leaving him; and if it meant he would kill anyone before letting you leave him, you didn’t care.

“Okay.”

Dainsleif

If Dainsleif had gone insane, he wasn’t sure. But waiting for a few hours at your shared house had never felt so long. Nothing had felt so long. The blonde could brandish his achievement of living for centuries at any moment. And it was clear in his appearance, his intelligence, experience and demeanor that he’d had already seen more than he could handle. He’d experienced wars, heartbreak, torture, decades in complete solitude with no one to care for nor anyone to care for him. When you came along and lit a small wisp of a flame in his heart, it made all the difference. He found himself quickly addicted to your smile and the way your heart beated for him and him alone. You made as much clear. This warm love for you was not exempt from becoming a problem, however. Though Dainsleif would never admit it, he loved you sincerely, cripplingly and cruelly. Dainsleif found himself searching for you at his lowest, with you at his highest and when without you, paralyzed. You'd forced your nimble fingers into the cracks of his shielded heart and wedged it open, finding a way to corrupt his steeled mind to depend solely on you and your affection in order to survive. He knew then, when you'd left him in your house alone that you'd succeeded. The moment you shut the door and whispered his greatest nightmare to his face, the blonde couldn't breathe. He stumbled over himself when his legs instinctively took action to catch up to you but it was almost immediately that he failed. His boot caught on his heel and Dainsleif almost went tumbling to the wood floor.

Should he follow you? Should he wait here? Should he call you, knowing there was no chance you wanted to hear from him? He was lost when it came to you. You were the only one who could ever rule him completely disoriented. It took him a long while to realize he had been taking himself in laps around the living room. His mind raced faster than his heart. Where were you? Were you okay? What if you’d been kidnapped or mugged or assaulted or raped? He felt his blood run colder than the endless snowstorms that ruled Snezhnaya at the prospect of not being sure whether or not someone had their rancid hands on you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Any sailer would have been proud of the string of prays and curses Dainsleif muttered every few seconds. As long as you returned, he told himself. As long as you came back to him unharmed and alive, everything would be okay. That obsession he had with you had, somewhere along the way, had given Dainsleif the irresistible urge to brutally disembowel and skin alive any person who spoke to you for too long. Anyone who smiled just a little too much beside you. If he said he hadn’t hunted down at least one or two people for crossing a line with you, he’d be lying. Now, however, the only solution to his guilt ridden mind was to have you chew him out.

You, nevertheless, were too plagued at the brain with thoughts of insecurity and doubt to even think of returning home to your worried lover. Your mind drifted to his scrunched face, angry tone, and the phrase that lived only in your nightmares until that day. The nightmares you would wake from in a cold sweat, yearning for his reassurance and affections. Hoping so dearly with everything within you that you would never screw up bad enough to receive such a world ending look directed at you. Dainsleif was usually hyper aware of your doubtful mind. Sensing the moments when your insecurities surfaced in the slight stilling of your dulled eyes or the way your fingers twitched. Tonight, you realized quite vividly he hadn’t noticed a single one of those signs.

Instead, the worried man was questioning whether you were alive. Or if, instead, you’d been stolen off the streets at the ungodly hour it was. Maybe you’d been hurt. Or raped. Or murdered. What scared Dain the most, above anything in the universe that could possibly frighten him, was the unknown. More especially when it came to you. Not knowing where you were, if you were healthy or okay. Not knowing what to do in order to soothe his heart pounding through the gaps in his rib cage and attacking his chest. While his impenetrable immortality was a benefit when it came to protecting you, if you were not there to be protected, Dainsleif was the most powerless man on the planet. And he couldn’t stand the feeling of knowing that if you were screaming for his help to save you at that very moment, he wouldn’t know until later that night when the police arrived at his door with news that you’d been stolen from him for good this time. And that moment would crush him under the weight of every syllable. And his world would legitimately collapse within an instant. And his sanity would shatter like a cheap wine glass in front of his very eyes. And his life and his purpose would crumble away.

If you should have returned home, you didn’t know. What was clear to you was that you were ready to make up with him. Whether he wanted you there or not, you were unsure of as well. But you were prepared to pack your bags if he asked it of you. If what he said was true, in that extreme moment of anger, then it would be better to remain there, at the beach you walked down as you released every milliliter of terminal heartbreak in the form of every tear your eyes could manage. Avoiding the thought of him was impossible; as you’d found a long, long while ago, without being dead. Dainsleif occupied and owned every fiber of the pathetic excuse for a brain you called your own. Any waking moment was lived entirely in hopes that maybe he would praise you, give you a kiss or lend you some of his precious time. And now that your world had crumbled before you, you weren’t sure of how to react. Sure, there had been nights were your dreams turned to nightmares in which Dainsleif would leave you, abandon you or incidents like these would occur. But similar to dying in a nightmare, you’d woken up before they progressed and were left to dread every idea of an outcome. Now that those vile words had actually been directed towards you, all that preparation to feel indifferent about heartbreak over the years went out of the window. As you sat silently and pathetically alone by the water, you sobbed with fear. Fear that you weren’t sure of how to react. How to move on. How to respond to his humiliating confession. How was it possible to move past this? You’d wanted to believe so desperately that you were dreaming still, your brain finally able to fabricate some form of a story to break your heart again. Alas, you heard your lover speak it with his own lips. And ignoring the invisible fist gripping your heart painfully, you stood with shaky legs and a trembling lip. You knew what was to come.

Now, whatever you may have thought was to come, definitely had not looked anything like that. Arriving home to find your calm, collected boyfriend ripping his hair out. Like literally he ran in laps around the room, hands gripping the light of his locks and letting an unnatural amount of hair fall to the floor. You cringed at the awful state of your home. Had the house been ransacked in that short period of time you’d been gone? And was Dainsleif so disoriented that he would let an intruder tear your home apart to such a degree? Why was there a knife lodged into the flat screen tv that took you three months to save up for? With part of the carpet torn up from the floor and the biggest knife of them all gripped tightly in your lovers hand. Of course, that wasn’t the least of it. Plenty of other sharp objects had been stuck into various spots around the room, a plate or two shattered on the kitchen floor and your dining table quite literally knocked over.

You were surprised at the level of shock Dain must have been experiencing considering the fact that he didn’t so much as notice your return to the house for a few minutes. You stared in awe at the prospect of your sweet lover making a mess of the place. He’d never been one for a mess, for trouble and certainly not for any kind of chaos. Being as calm and collected as he was, it was out of character when Dainsleif whipped his head to you with wide, red eyes when your keys fell with a tension shattering clatter. It was like he’d seen a ghost with his hollowed irises. Had he truly been jumped in your absence? If he had, it wasn’t like your immortal lover was incapable of defending himself. He was more than adept at subduing any threat that crossed his path.

“Dainsleif what happened in here?” You asked in genuine concern. He could only open and close his mouth in shock, likely not having had expected you to return. And most definitely not having a word to say in response. In all honesty he, too, did not know how the apartment managed to reach such a state. More than likely, the disheveled rooms were a reflection as well as a result of the delusions he’d fabricated in the confines of his own mind. It showed in the trembling of his fingers that were gripping another knife he planned on throwing into some other expensive piece of furniture.

“You… here… why-when did you-why did you come here?” You hardly had to ponder the answer to his question. You knitted your brows together, confused beyond belief.

“What do you mean why, Dain? I live here. With you. Remember?” You scoffed, trying to imagine a reason behind his clear outburst.

“You haven’t… chosen to leave?” The five words he’d spoken out of fear in that moment told you everything you needed to know. He was afraid. He’d expressed his grief and crippling fear in the destruction of countless items in your home together. Finally— and likely for the first time that night— Dainsleif looked around him at the chaos that had ensued. It would take a burglar effort to cause as much damage in a number of hours that Dainsleif had in only one. It astounded him what he was capable of when he didn’t put his mind to it. Truthfully, he’d felt so many negative emotions for the first time that night that the memory of destroying the house was but a fleeting concern. Now with you having returned when he could have promised that you were to leave him, Dainsleif teared up.

“No! Why would I leave you, Dainsleif that is ridiculous! Did you do this shit!? What are you, five!?” It’s clear in your tone of voice that you’re not happy with him, but Dainsleif could not care less about how angry you would be with him. Even if he hugged your leg with sweaty skin and teary cheeks, at least you would interact with him. Thankfully he opted to refrain from touching you. You looked angry. Confused or overwhelmed. He couldn’t tell which. You looked so troubled that despite his desperation for you touch, he wouldn’t risk losing you.

“Are you upset with me?” He whispered, straining his wilting muscles to stand up. You weren’t mad. Not with the looks he gave you. Not with how much he loved you so preciously. You knew he hadn’t meant what he said. Dainsleif wasn’t the type and never had been. You weren’t stupid; well aware of the fact (especially with the disorder in your home as a consequence to your absence for a mere hour or two) that he had regretted what he said. The look in his eyes when your eyebrows furrowed at his question reassured you of it.

“Dainsleif I’m not mad. I just wouldn’t have taken you as the type to trash the house in a hissy fit in a matter of, what, an hour?” His face scrunched with what looked to be discomfort.

“No! Please don’t do that. Be upset with me. Hit me.” Was he angry?? Surely not. He stepped closer to you and gripped your wrist. Thrusting your hesitant hand against his chest and repeatedly slamming it against himself, he looked as though he would cry. “Yell at me.”Watching your lover as he lifted your hand once more and hit it harshly against his face broke your heart. Thud after thud, he was unrelenting. “Hit me and label me with terrible names. Hate me.” You began to bawl. Maybe your arm pulled back in protest but Dain had always been stronger. Smarter. More experienced. You couldn’t overpower him or his insatiable desire to feel you release your anger onto him. You tried. And with all your might to stop him from forcing your hand against his skin. To stop even yourself from leaving such red marks against his skin. “I’m sorry.” Now he slowed. Suddenly he loosened his grip on your hand; it hardly mattered. Your guilt ate you alive. You made him feel this way. If you’d had no heart to be upset with him for what he’d said, now you certainly had no right. You weren’t even strong enough to tell your lover to stop hurting himself. It hardly mattered whether he would retain the damage or not. Never would you lay a hand on the man you loved. Dainsleif, however, could say the same thing when it came to how tears spilled down your cheeks. He’d been the cause despite his endless promises to protect you.

“Don’t make me do that to you.” Your wrists fell from his hands. “I could never do that-“ your sniffles must have ripped courage from Dainsleif. He’d found the strength to wrap his arms around your smaller frame and crush you against him. “I could never hate you. I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Burying your face into his warm chest, you kept a mental note to speak with him. I’m the moment, your priority would be to hold him in your arms and drill the fact that he was long past forgiveness into his heart.

___

Thanks for reading

Sorry for the delay, it will be a normal occurance

[bones4thecats]

Hello, I have another idea for Aku x eldritch!reader.

Do you remember episode with Aku in disguise(Ikra)? So when he was traveling with Jack and Reader, he flirted with them every opportunity, but Reader was not impressed. And then, at some moment, Reader gave him a peck and whispered that he had a good disguise. And then they went back to Jack after that, as if nothing had happened.

You can write headcanons or scenario.

— 👹Anon

Aku As Ikra Flirting With Eldritch! Reader

Character: Aku Requester: 👹Anon A/N: Instead of doing Hastur, I changed it to be a different Lovecraftian 'God'. This time, the Reader is themed after Yig, the God of Serpents in the Lovecraftian Mythos. There's a link to his Google Search below! This may not be my best piece, but I hope it's at least a little good. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of murder (not explicit) ⚠️ Yig, God of Sperents - Lovecraftian Mythos ; Link Here Images I based the Reader off: One, Two, Three

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Aku ═════════════════════════════════╝

👹 He had tried multiple times to get that Samurai to pass on so he could continue his rule, but this was getting ridiculous!

👹 Despite the fact that the man wielded the only thing that could kill him, he now had a new weapon he could use against the demon; an Eldritch being that could punish everyone who dared kill one snake that was the descendant of one of the most anger-filled deities

👹 Aku just so happened to witness this 'awakening' of yours, and he saw how you would defend the Samurai with the biggest amount of loyalty he'd ever seen

👹 Over the past few days, he was beginning to lose his patience. While yes, the warrior who called himself Jack, did not use you all of the time while fighting, or rather you would come out and pretty much... y'know, rip someone apart...

👹 Instead of going in as Aku, the Shogun of Sorrow decided to disguise himself as a woman, though he needed to come up with a name sooner or later. He'll think of one while manipulating the two of you

👹 While he spent time going 'after Aku in order to free Ikra's father', he begun to see just how deadly, yet compassionate, you were. Every time you would witness Jack or Ikra being put through something a hair bit overwhelming, you would slither down from a building's roof and attack their enemy

👹 He also saw how you fluently spoke to any serpent-like being the group came across, ranging from full-blooded snakes to monsters that were like snakes, you just connected with them very well

👹 Before he knew it, you had been staring at him more and more. Did you find out who he was? Heavily doubtful, the Samurai's guard was always up unless he truly trusted someone with his presence. And if he didn't know, you certainly couldn't...

👹 But, why did he enjoy your looks. Why did he like it when you would lightly pat his, or rather Ikra's, hands in reassurance when he needed to act like she was thinking of her father

👹 Eventually, you three had come across a more jungle-appearing area. You sniffed the air and sighed, your serpent-signally hood flaring down in relaxation while your once slit-pupils molded to be the average circles

👹 Jack looked at you and smiled before pointing towards a snake's nest. Aku watched you kneel down and pet the mother snake's head while the two observed you hum a slow song to her as she relaxed and you used a small spell to cover the next with an invisibility spell

"Won't that make it almost impossible for the snake to find her next again?" The shapeshifter asked.

"Oh far from it. This spell only works on those who would risk the safety of the animal. Though, on this one, only the mother snake, her babies, and those such as I can find the nest. I cannot risk one of my children to be harmed like others have done so."

👹 Samurai Jack began to walk forward after observing you and motioned for you both to follow deeper into the fruitful land. Ikra looked at you as you stood and began to walk towards her

👹 What were you going to do-

👹 Leaning your head slightly down at the demon, you kissed their cheek, making him falter. He had been flirting with you for the entire journey, hell, when he first saw you, he had winked at you, which made you scrunch your nose slightly with distaste instead of doing it back to him

"W-what..."

"Congrats on the masterful disguise, Lord Aku~" You whispered to the male, making his face flush a bright red matching Ikra's lips.

👹 While the rest of his plan went right and he escaped from Jack and you, he was flushed as he arrived back at his home, brushing his sharp fingers against the area you kissed just a couple hours prior

"How bold of you, Ancestor of Serpents."

[moonliched]

Hello baby!

Kisses u on the forehead

How r u feeling? I just finished rereading your fic and damn i love it so much it's in my solid top 3 of mer fics and is keeping its 1st place proudly. I just melt into a happy puddle while reading it! And during a day my mind often drifts to think and theorise about your work! Also you are so cute and bubbly it only adds on to the whole vibe in the book. I loved little fun facts! They are adding so much character and perspective to the people and situations! Can we have some more?

Btw can we give you some ideas for plants and stuff?

Kisses!

can't wait to see more of your magic 🌸✨️

you n me, perchance (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

i am feeling like i need a long holiday! i hope your autumn is off to a good start🍁🍂

you have no idea how big of a complement this is aaaaaaaaa, i always wanted to make a fic likeable enough to reread xD you're so nice to me❤️

you can absolutely give me whatever ideas you'd like, i welcome the excuse to chat n make up cool fantasy stuff😊✨ thanks for the ask, i am absolutely squeezing you in a hug rn!!

i gotcha more fun There Are Many Benefits facts ;3

🪸 Sun and Moon coexist calmly and happily. they are very close and their bickering isn't in seriousness. so if you join in, at any moment they might exchange a glance and gleefully gang up on you at the drop of a hat

🪸 Meryn can see a deeper range of certain colours than the mers can, like the difference between the white of Sun's eyes and his paler pupils. so Sun thinks he's being sneaky when he looks at Meryn without moving his head, but obviously Meryn can tell that he's staring dead at them. they find it funny

🪸 after Meryn revealed in chapter 16 that they intend to build BON-BON a body, he promptly spent the rest of the night searching up cool robot images and brainstorming stuff to put in it. he 100% has not thought about the sheer work that's going to go into making just a regular body, nor the fact that Meryn would never ever trust him with rocket launchers

🪸 Sun and Moon are aware on some level that Humans Wear Clothes (though how they know this is a spoiler!) but they don't fully understand the minutiae of the when and the why humans keep covered. so, just enough to get flustered when they're removed lol

🪸 Meryn was considering getting piercings before their hand webbing was removed. now they have lost their taste for any permanent body modifications

🪸 BON-BON spies on the Glamrock team's meetings, but not as much as he used to. he gets bored easily and a lot of what they discuss references previous tasks and goals he also didn't really listen to when they were first brought up. as a result, he misses out on a lot of stuff that would make for juicy gossip-and-mystery-solving content to share with Meryn😅

🪸 Sun thinks that Meryn's 'nest' (bed) is tragically bare. it must be because they have no one to take care of them! he has plans to rectify that

🪸 Meryn typically responds with a one word 'okay' when they're agreeing without meaning it

🪸 BON-BON thinks the Glamrock team's apparent bleeding-heart stance on AI is just performative, and that if the time comes to ever put those beliefs into action they would fall back on reporting him as sentient

🪸 Vanessa only followed Meryn's example of using he/him pronouns for Sun when he spoke like a human, by mimicking her words

🪸 it's often obvious to Sun and Moon when Meryn doesn't understand something, and they find it amusing to call them on it, or let it play out if Meryn doesn't express their confusion. they think it's cute

🪸 As of chapter 16, Meryn is getting sick of Monty helping himself to their food and drink and has a plan to punish him for it >:3

🪸 BON-BON's enjoyment of shopping is more to do with the new experience of getting to express himself through his appearance than fashion itself. he's still learning what he likes and how he wants to present himself

🪸 Sun and Moon love making Meryn laugh, as they don't actually laugh or smile by themself often. but tbf all of their expressions are super interesting to the mers