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all-purpose-dish-soap · 6 months

Text

1.7k / 21 / soap soulmate au, part 2

...

Unfortunately, Ghost finds you before Soap does.

Ghost yanks you by the elbow, cuffs around your wrists, dragging you to an unmarked military vehicle, pistol in hand.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask him.

He shoves you into the back seat and slams the door, gets in on the other side and starts the car up. You right yourself, having been shoved hard enough for your ribs to bounce off the leather seats.

He answers without looking at you. "The base." Curt, cold, and pissed. He drops the gun barrel-down into the cup holder.

"We just left the base."

"Huh. So we did." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Ain't that funny."

There’s a chance he’s not 141. As if there’s some other brick shithouse of a man who wears a skull balaclava around.

You shift in your seat. "What do you want from me?"

“Nothin' that'll feel good, I can tell ya that." He rests his elbow on the center console. “We’re gonna have a long talk."

"And then what?"

“Dunno. Maybe a bullet. Depends on how much you piss me off. Got a lot of questions to ask you first.”

Great.

You look around. This isn’t a police vehicle. Barely a military vehicle. There’s no barrier between you and that gun in the front seat cupholder. But you’re not an idiot. He knows you won't go for it, too, but he wants you to try.

You lean back, looking out the window at your side. "You can still turn yourself in. You don’t need to resort to hostages.”

“I made my choice. Not a difficult choice, considering how corrupt Shadow Company is."

“Orders are orders.”

“You always follow orders to arrest your friends, no questions asked?”

“When there’s good reason to.”

"Good reason, my ass. You're just a mindless dog, doing whatever Graves says. You think he'll protect you from the consequences of his actions? He'll toss you to the wolves in a heartbeat if it means saving his own sorry ass."

"That's not true."

"It's the mercenary way, innit. Sell yourself to the highest bidder and tell yourself orders are orders."

You brace one boot on the other, slowly working one foot free from inside. "Military’s the same. Only difference between us is you're salaried."

“I fight for a cause. Can’t say the same for your line of work. All you know how to do is gun targets down for cash and a little approval from your boss. Pathetic.”

Your heel slides loose. “No cause is clean. You can’t tell me you’ve never seen corruption in your line of work. Or a bad call. Or an unnecessary death.”

He grips the wheel, glaring at you in the mirror. “Doesn’t make it right. Sure as hell doesn’t mean you turn a blind eye to goddamn betrayal in your own ranks.”

“Some bureaucrat in a suit fumbling the bag and trying to right wrongs doesn’t make us corrupt. Graves knows what he’s doing—"

"So you knew."

Your jaw snaps closed mid-sentence. Shit.

He's staring right at you in the rearview mirror, eyes so cold they could freeze the breath in your lungs. "You knew about Shepherd. Didn't you?"

You swallow, looking away from the mirror and out the window. Your left foot finally comes free, and you shift subtly to brace your heel on your right boot, beginning to work your right foot loose next. "Doesn't matter."

“You followed orders to turn on your own allies, knowing they came from Shepherd. Knowing all he cares about is covering his own mistakes." He grips and re-grips the wheel slowly, as if he's thinking hard about picking up that handgun and ending your life in a ditch somewhere. "Welcomed us into a slaughterhouse for a fistful of cash. Bet you sleep real easy at night."

You trust Graves. He’s never steered you wrong. You were doing the right thing by following orders. That mantra is stuck in your throat. You want it to be true, but then there’s Johnny.

Ghost hasn't mentioned him by name. The Shadows never found him—he got away—but you don't dare let yourself think about the implications of him being alive and knowing about you. You put it out of your mind as soon as the thought surfaces, even. You made a deal with yourself that you'd never dwell on it again. Much less ask his very hostile squadmate about it. You’re not about to offer your arteries up to a butcher.

"Shepherd is in your chain of command, too."

"Not anymore. You and yours made sure of that."

"You didn't have to defect. Commander Graves asked you to come quietly. You would've been fine. You didn't do anything wrong, right?” You hear an edge in your tone and blunt it back down. "You didn't have anything to hide. But you turned it into a firefight."

"You realize you’re defending the bastard that sold out me and my team. You think I'd lay down, let him put us in some jail cell to rot for the rest of our days? I've seen too many people follow orders, trusting that everyone above them has their best interests at heart. Seen more than a few of them get punished at the hands of men like Shepherd. I'm not giving him another chance to betray me.” You still feel his eyes on you in the mirror, but you don't look. "You never once stopped and questioned what you were told to do? Or did it not matter because your loyalty was to your company, not the right thing?" His voice is flat. "That's the difference between me and you. I don't look for excuses to feel better about my actions. And I damn sure don't turn my gun on my allies.”

Your stomach curls with discomfort. "You had a choice. You knew how this would end for you."

"Rather be a wanted criminal for the right reasons than a gun being pointed at whoever Shepherd wants dead. And wouldn't you know it--I'm in damn good company, too. Turns out sticking to a moral code earns you a little more loyalty than payin’ cash. But you want to know what the best part of being a criminal is?" He taps out an odd little tune on the wheel, but there’s nothing warm or cute about it. The loaded gun would be friendlier to contend with. “I don’t have to follow Shepherd’s orders. I’m free to deal with this little problem as I see fit, and no one can tell me I’m wrong. If I kill some mercenaries who would arrest me on sight, that's just the unfortunate collateral damage that comes with my newfound freedom and your buddies following orders."

You consider that for a long moment. “So when do you plan to kill me?”

"Depends on whether or not I like what I hear in the next couple of hours. Might change my mind in that time. Might not." He takes his hand off the steering wheel to lean back a little. The road is empty, stretching long into the horizon. "The more I hear you talk, the more I feel like shooting you just for the sake of it. But I've got too many questions for that, so..." He lets the implied you live for now hang in the air, then taps the wheel again. "We'll see how the rest of this convo goes."

You manage to slide your right heel free. You glance up to see him looking at you in the mirror again. Your heart skips. You think he's caught you. But he doesn't say anything, and you realize he's just examining you, mulling something over.

“I don’t know what you think I can tell you, but I don’t know anything,” you say.

“Why don’t you just stay quiet and think about all that stuff you don’t know. Maybe we’ll starve you until you talk; maybe we’ll grease your palms. That’s how you operate, hm?”

He’s trying to make you angry, make you take the bait, but you don’t. You know what you are.

You keep both feet carefully lowered into your boots so as not to rouse suspicion. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you and your buddy got hurt.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He frowns. A beat passes where he doesn't say anything, just watches you. Not angry or suspicious, just... calculating. "Not worth much. And his name is Johnny. But you knew that, didn't you?"

You look away. Ghost's cell phone rings.

The sound pulls his attention away from you. He glances down at the display with a frown.

"On with Ghost." A short reply. "Yeah, I got her. About three hours out." He glances at you once as the person on the other line says something else, but after a few more seconds, you can tell he's more concerned with what they're saying than with you.

This is your chance.

With his eyes fixed on the road, you silently pull your cuffed arms under you, lifting your feet deftly through the loop of your arms.

You glance down at the gun one more time. He’s holding the phone with his left hand; driving with his right. Still, even with your hands in front of you, you’re cuffed. You won’t have a chance if you go for that gun and he gets it away from you. It won’t end well.

Plan B, then.

You push your feet back into your boots and slide yourself behind his seat.

"Hey!"

Drill Sergent voice. Busted.

He hits the brakes, drops his phone, and reaches for the pistol.

You slam your feet into the back of his seat, sending him crashing forward and trapping him between the seat and the wheel. The horn blares. The car jerks and runs off the road.

Cuffed hands in front of you, you throw your weight against the driver's side door and grab the handle. He reacts, but not quick enough, his gloved hand snatching at the space where yours were a second after you get the door open.

You dive outside, crash to the ground, roll ungracefully away from the back wheels as they roar past, and use the momentum to get back to your feet. The car keeps rolling, driver's side door still open. It's still moving fast, and you landed hard. That's going to hurt in a minute. Not yet, though.

You run.

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

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belovedcloud · 5 months

Text

Sick Days | Roommate! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Notes: Been pretty bedbound recently and thought about how Leon would be if he was sick and had his roommate help him out. This is literally just Leon and you being lovestruck by each other but you both are too scared to say it until he does.

WC: 1.9K

CW: Talks of Ada leading Leon on, nervous Leon but cute outcome. He loves you a lot and just can't convey it well. Fluff, maybe a Part 2?

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Lazing around in bed was nice every now and again, but that's when you haven't got a tissue shoved up your nose and the highest temperature possible. Leon never meant to get sick in the first place - but when you magically find yourself in a sewer and get stuck in shit-rotting clothes for a good few hours in the cold, it tends to happen. So here he was, trying to breathe properly whilst you tended to him every hour and so. If he wasn't sick he would've thanked you properly by getting you a gift but being bedbound was difficult enough. So his forms of gifts to you were sneezes and coughs as he tried to stomach the pills and cough syrup you gave him.

"Maybe try and not sneeze on my arm..." You jokingly said as he grumbled in bed, wrapping himself in his sheets. "Shut up.." He coughed out as he tried to hide his smile from you, it was impossible to not smile around you. The feelings you gave him were indescribable at the very least. It was like he was a teenager again, fumbling over his words sometimes and not being able to make sense of himself as you would smile at him. Your soft hands swat away the hairs that fell in front of his face as he sniffled, groaning in pain as his head ached continuously. "When can I have my pills again?" Leon asked as his teary eyes travelled up your face, taking in your beauty as you placed down another hot chocolate on the nightstand for him to gulp down any minute by now. "Uhh.. give another 30 minutes, I don't want you feeling even worse because you took your pills too early." You chuckled out as you saw his disheveled state, he really could be dramatic at times. "Fuck.. as if I could be in anymore pain." He muttered, taking the hot chocolate into his hands as he painfully sipped at it, the hot liquid seeping into the cracks of his lips. The lack of hydration causing his skin to dry out.

"Hold on let me get you some chapstick." Seeing you walk out Leon couldn't help but sigh. You were too kind to him, too kind to a man who killed monsters for a living. Yet you wouldn't mind hearing him sob out his monstrous nightmarish stories, you wouldn't mind helping him when he needed help. You would always be there, and that's why he fell in love with you. It took him a while to understand the concepts of love after being lead on by Ada back in Raccoon City. But he got there in the end and he was content with having a crush on you. Even though he thought you would never get with a man like him. Your smile and friendship was enough for him. For now. Your love for Leon was no different. The way he carried himself and his strength mentally was always something you looked up to. He was courageous, no normal person could be like him if they put up with what he was put through a few years ago. His kindness still resided within him - something that you longed for.

Moments later, Leon sees you coming in with a stick of chapstick. The pop of the lid makes him shuffle up from his homemade pillow and blanket mess, his groans apparent as he sat up. "Remind me to not lay down like that again.." He moaned out in pain as he saw you level up the chapstick. "Even when you're sick, you're still funny." You laughed out. "Finally admitting I'm funny now, when I'm on my deathbed?" He playfully rolled his eyes as he put his hand to his head, reenacting how someone would faint. "You are so dramatic Leon." The flick of your finger on his forehead made him yelp. "What the fuck?" Leon chuckled, turning his eyes back on the chapstick. "Red chapstick... really?" He looked at you with tired eyes as he saw your hands approach his head. "It's either this or you can have chapped lips, which one will it be grumpy?" You retorted out jokingly as your left hand tilted his chin up towards you. His face couldn't help but feel warmer... How the hell could it feel warmer when he was ill? A sense of embarrassment overwhelmed Leon as he pursed his lips, a sigh eliciting out his throat. "Fine, chapstick it is."

His gaze wondered over you as the feeling of chapstick replenished the moisture in his lips, slowly rubbing his lips together as you stopped applying it. "Looks like you have lipstick on." He heard you snicker out as your remark slowly made you burst out in a fit of laughter. "Shut uppp.." Leon couldn't help but laugh with you - your giggling made him smile. It was harmonic as he saw tears of joy appear in the creases of your eyes. Laughter slowly died down as you put the chapstick in your pocket - sitting down on Leon's bed. "Does princess Leon need anything else now?" You joked at him as he snuggled back into his fort of blankets. Leon rolled his eyes and averted them towards the side of the room. "You're so kind to me when I'm ill." He grumbled out, a small smile appearing on his lips. "You're welcome." You quipped back as you ruffled his pillows, fluffing them back up to their original shape.

"Thank you..." He hushed out, nervous as it escaped his mouth. Fuck, was that too obvious? "Huh? For fluffing your pillows?" Your head tilted in confusion as your eyes gazed back onto Leon's face. Even when ill, he was so handsome. "No, I mean yeah but.. Thanks for looking after me these past few days. When you could've been having fun with your friends." Leon stuttered out. His heartbeat felt rushed all of a sudden, scared of what you would say back. "You don't have to thank me Leon, it's nice being able to help you out." A soft smile appeared on your lips, he couldn't help but give a weak smile back. "And anyways, you would've done the same thing for me right?" Your hand slid to caress his. Aiding him in some sort of comfort as he mumbled out what he said next. "Yeah.. of course. I would help you with anything."

Leon felt himself get too hot as he hushed out his words. You couldn't help but feel nervous in this situation. His raspy voice hit spots in your heart where you thought it could never be reached. The way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. Were you both really just friends? "I uh.. Sorry if that came out weird." He broke the silence between you two, feeling scared if he had made things awkward. "No, don't worry. It was really sweet of you to say that." You stumbled over your own words trying to make him think otherwise. The way your soft lips moved as your hand kept caressing his hand made Leon crazy. All he wanted to do was kiss you, hold you in his arms. Make you his. "Leon?" You nudged at him. Oops. He forgot he was mid-conversation with you.

"Sorry." He chuckled out. Fuck it. "You're really pretty." He whispered out meekly. It had felt like you short-circuited. Did Leon just call you pretty? "Huh?" Was all that managed to come out of your mouth as you stared at Leon in bewilderment. "Pretty?" You asked him, as if you were begging him to say it again. A soft chuckle erupted out of Leon's throat as his gaze wondered all over you. "Yeah, really pretty." He made it clear to you his thoughts. "Inside and out, and I'm sorry if I made this awkward I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore." He groaned out as he plopped his head back on his pillow. A subtle smile emerged on your face, looking at the man who just confessed to you. "It's okay, I just didn't think you thought of me that way." A mellow laugh elicited out your throat. "What? Of course I do, I mean look at you... You're beautiful and oh my God.. you treat me so well. I can't help but be in love with you." Leon rambled out, hushing himself as he realized the last part. "Shit..." He mumbled out, knowing he had fully confessed his love to you. He anticipated a rejection, instead he felt a soft kiss press on his forehead.

"I'm in love with you too Leon." She couldn't help but have a wide grin as she relapsed his confession in her mind. Leon on the other hand couldn't believe what just happened. It soon sent him into a coughing fit, with you patting his back and laughing. "Agh.. fuck." His voice rasped out of his throat. "How about you get some rest?" You stroked his face, getting the stray hairs out of his eyes. "Uh.. so we're going to just forget that you kissed my forehead?" He joked as he looked at you with teary eyes, still struggling to breathe from him coughing fit before. "Well I can't kiss you on the lips can I?" You snickered as you pinched his cheek, a small whine escaping his lips. "Yeah.. okay. I'll make it up to you when I'm not dying." Leon groaned out as he melted into your touch. "How are you gonna do that?" Confusion laced in your voice as you asked him that question. "Well if I tell you that'll ruin the surprise." He laughed as he looked into your eyes. Feeling your body leave his made him whine. "Where are you going?" He held onto your hand.

Your lips pressed against his forehead again as you stood up. "It's time for your pills." Leon yanked you back down to him as he rolled his eyes, a yelp leaving your lips. "They can wait." He grumbled out, his arms slowly wrapping around you. "Weren't you just crying about not having your meds?" You snickered out as you melted into his touch. "Hush, I don't need them now." He murmured as he lifted up the blankets, covering the both of you. Leon couldn't care less about the medication if it meant having you in his arms, at least for a bit. "Leon.." You whined out, "You're going to get me sick." You tried to escape his embrace, but to no avail. "We can be sick together." He joked as he kissed your neck, feeling content in his sick body. "Shut up, I'm getting your medicine." Getting up from his tight embrace was hard, but it was possible in the end when he felt you kick his kneecap. "You're really going to leave me when I'm like this?" He huffed out, a small pout forming on his lips. "I'll be back soon with your medicine, it's not like I'm leaving forever." You flicked his forehead as you walked out the door.

He was so in love with you.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

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#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic

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headkiss · 7 months

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heyyy, how are you?? i love your work so much!!! i was wondering if you could write something about steve having a crush on r, but when they are together he gest shy and quiet and r misunderstands that and thinks he doesn't like her like everyone is telling her he is ???

im sorry if its confusing, english is not my first language,, anywayy feel free to change anything !!! ❤️

hi baby thank you so much!!! i’m so sorry this has been in my asks since september but i hope u enjoy all the same :,) i finally wrote something!!! yay!!! | 0.7k teeny tiny angst and fluff!!

You’re pretty sure Steve Harrington doesn’t like you. That’s what you tell Robin when you see her at the Family Video counter, alone for once. She bursts out laughing.

“I’m being serious!”

Before Robin responds, Steve walks out of the back room, grinning that grin you wish you didn’t love so much, his hair a little messy, like he didn’t have enough time to style it this morning the way he usually does.

He’s looking at Robin when he says: “what’s so funny?”

“I bet you’d love to know, dingus.” She nods at you and shrugs, “it’s girl stuff.”

It’s only then that he notices you’re there, his eyes flicking over your face quickly, his head ripping in a small nod. You might not have noticed it if you weren’t looking right at him already.

“Oh, right.” He smiles again, tight-lipped this time. “Hey.”

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hey,” he says again.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure Steve Harrington doesn’t like you, because this is what happens whenever you’re around. He goes quiet, awkward, where others have always found him outgoing and kind.

You suppose it only makes things worse when you want him to like you so bad. If only as a friend, even.

“Um, I was just grabbing…” You flounder before picking up a random movie by the front desk, “this.”

“Right,” he scratches the back of his neck as he says it.

Meanwhile Robin’s head is turning to look between the two of you like it’s a tennis match. You widen your eyes at her and she gets the signal, scanning your movie and letting you head out with it when she knows you’ll be returning it before even opening the case.

“You’re such an idiot,” she says to Steve as the door shuts behind you, the bell jingling with your departure.

“Robin-”

“No! You are, Steve. Listen, you know I love you, but she thinks you don’t like her. At all!”

Now, Steve knows that he acts like an absolute dork wherever you’re concerned, but he never wanted you to think that. Never. If anything, he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone before, and it terrifies him.

Any ounce of the confidence that’s left over from his ‘King Steve’ era seems to evaporate, and the words just don’t come the way they should. But fuck, he didn’t want to hurt you. He’d never want to hurt you.

“Shit,” he runs a hand through his hair, uncaring about how it might look for once.

“Yeah, shit.” Robin nudges her shoulder against his, “she’s still in her car, by the way. Just saying.”

Steve nods, muttering some kind of encouragement for himself under his breath. He pushes his way out the door, picking up his pace to a jog when he hears you start your car.

The knock on your window startles you, surprises you when you look over to find Steve standing out there, the sun a halo around his figure, his Family Video vest just a little crooked.

You shut your car off and roll your window down, squinting up at him, “Steve? Everything okay?”

“I do like you.”

“What?”

His chest is rising and falling quickly, his eyes wide and something like worry looming in them. “I do like you.”

“Steve, did Robin put you up to this? ‘Cause you don’t have to-”

“She didn’t. I promise she didn’t,” he leans down a little, his hands resting on your door. “She told me you thought I didn’t like you and I couldn’t let you leave still thinking that. I like you. A lot.”

You blink up at him, mouth opening and closing, trying to figure out what to say. For so long, you’d been convinced that he wasn’t a fan of yours, and here he is, sincerity written all over his face.

“You never talk to me, I thought-”

“I know. I know and I’m sorry.” Steve hangs his head for a second, inhaling once before looking at you again. “The truth is I, uh, have a crush on you. Probably more than a crush, and I didn’t know what to do with it so I acted like a fucking idiot.”

“You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah, I do. Kind of a big one.”

You can’t fight the smile on your face at that. “I have a crush on you too, Steve.”

It’s the first time you make Steve Harrington blush, the first genuine smile of his that you earn. And it won’t be the last.

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not-neverland06 · 4 months

Text

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick.

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around.

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks.

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it.

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill.

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way.

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore.

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them.

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world.

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long.

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand.

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited.

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening.

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him.

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would.

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires.

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it.

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal.

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls.

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby.

You don’t even know where they got that one from.

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots.

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them.

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is.

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table.

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap.

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist.

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed.

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other.

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I’m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.”

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb.

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches.

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground.

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from.

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her.

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose.

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own.

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?”

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die.

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop.

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them.

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares.

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair.

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face.

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.”

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge.

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink.

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper.

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face.

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t.

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly.

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help.

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face.

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement.

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground.

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can.

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it.

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it.

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again.

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him.

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here.

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it.

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end.

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him.

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?”

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her.

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her.

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down,

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief.

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him.

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it.

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part.

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit.

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane.

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer.

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him.

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt.

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable.

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips.

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again.

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable.

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him.

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.”

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth.

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice.

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned. “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you.

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least.

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing.

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?”

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home.

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels.

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard.

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you.

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words.

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity.

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now.

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass.

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside.

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly.

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn.

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store.

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot.

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you.

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming.

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do.

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life.

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him.

Or he could help you.

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve.

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other.

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him.

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him.

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap.

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go.

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on.

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together.

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different.

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed.

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be.

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once.

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns.

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit.

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same.

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover.

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely.

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have.

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more.

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him.

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again.

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it.

He’s giving in now, giving into her.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #how about a nuke?#cooper howard #the ghoul

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eddiemunsons-missingnipple · 8 months

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Just imagining what it would be like for you and Eddie to both drunk and looking for each other. You don't realize you've been talking to one another the whole time.

Steve's party had been going on now practically all night. You and Eddie arrived hours ago, and now you can't seem to find each other. He went off with his friends, and so did you. You mingled and stayed close together when you first got there. But soon, you unintentionally drifted away the drunker you got.

Your face was tingling, and your head felt so heavy. Your whole body just wasn't corporating. Your limbs felt like they were in a constant battle to keep you standing or even walking straight. You kept calling out for Eddie.

You wanted to go home but knew he wasn't driving. Not in the condition he was probably in. He got drunk way before you did. You saw him throwing back shot after shot. Then chasing it down with his favorite beer, a pbr. The thought of the taste is already making you gag. He was a lightweight no matter how much he tried arguing against it.

You were stumbling and kept calling for your boyfriend. "Eddie!"

You even grabbed some random dude just because he had longish hair. He was definitely not your Eddie. You made a face of diagust and mumbled "ew" under your breath when the guy turned around.

The party kept getting louder the drunker you became. Everyone kinda started looking a like. Your vision was nothing but a blur. You even confused Nancy for Steve at one point. All because she had on his jacket.

The funny thing is that she never even bothered to correct you. If it wasn't for Robin speaking up to tell you, it was actually Nancy you were talking to. You would still be calling her Steve the rest of the time.

The killer hangover you're destined to have in the morning made you wish you never started drinking tonight. Too late. You knew you were screwed by the fifth shot of tequila. You and Eddie were going to be in misery.

You stumble again and flop down on the couch next to someone. A man who you really can't even focus on any distinctive features. He's just there slumped back with his legs spread open holding a candle that he assumed was his beer can.

You may be drunk off your ass but not drunk enough to mistake a candle for a can of beer. You look over, and he's nothing but a blurry figure to you. You blink and blink, trying to figure out who he is. Your drunkened mind comes up with nothing. He is another stranger to you. Little did you know that's actually your boyfriend. Who you have been on the hunt for all night long.

You heard him mumbling something in coherent over and over again.

"What you say?" You slurred.

He burped before repeating. "I said you have seen my girlfriend? She's cute. You can't miss her."

"Oh no havent seen her...m'lookin for my boyfriend actually. He's a nerd you can't miss'em" you giggled and sat up a little.

"Haven't seen any nerds around." Eddie quipped and went to take a drink from the candle.

He made a face when nothing went into his mouth. He still has yet to notice his actual beer is on the table.

"Been lookin' for her all night. I even cried at the beer keg." He sounded like he was about to cry again. "Guys out there forced me to come sit down to calm myself."

You put your hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He sounded so sad you couldn't help but feel bad for him. "She's around here somewhere."

"My boyfriend is missing too, startin' to think he's in a bush passed out." You rubbed your eyes and laid back against the couch.

Eddie snorts and goes in his pocket to grab his pack of cigarettes.

"All I know is when I find that little shit I can pass out in peace." He slurred and practically ripped open his pack of cigarettes to get one out.

"Yeah, me too-- When I find my boyfriend, I'm passing out too." You hiccuped, and your eyes slowly got heavier. The party started to die down a lot. People were falling asleep or walking home.

"When you'd get here?" Eddie turned to face you. "Been lookin' for you all night!"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson concept #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x blurb

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tossawary · 3 months

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In "The Princess Bride", Westley is (forgive this phrasing, I mean it relatively fondly) "a petty bitch of a man", but I can kind of see where he's coming from giving Buttercup a hard time at the beginning. It's a very human thing to have a temper.

He went off to seek his fortune and was attacked by pirates, which I assume was a bloody and unpleasant experience. He had to beg for his life and spent a long time as their captive, threatened with death every single day, even if it later turned into a less serious morbid joke. Life on the crew of the most famous pirate in the world was presumably pretty harsh at times and he worked his ass off training himself up to be worth feeding and keeping alive, then to be able to hold his own in this new life. Piracy is hardly a very safe profession.

For all we know, Westley did attempt to send letters home, but he probably had to work hard to scrounge up the money for it and find someone semi-legitimate willing to carry it, and this is hardly an era of reliable mail. He probably had to just hope that Buttercup 1) wouldn't hear the news of his first ship's destruction and/or 2) would trust in his love for her enough to know that he was alive and fighting to come back.

When Westley finally becomes the Dread Pirate Roberts, he's still stuck with the former Dread Pirate Roberts for a little while, and then he has a pirate crew who have expectations of him. He cannot sail the damn ship himself. It probably took a lot of work, threats and persuasion and the slow building of trust, in order to get a ship full of men to eventually take him back to Florin. Like, would he even have told them about Buttercup? (It would be funny if there's a crew of pirates out there cheering Westley on in True Love.) Would he have had to promise them some reward?

He also went out in the world to make his fortune and he already knows that he's dreadfully late, so maybe his position is, "Okay, I will build up trust with my crew by building up our fortunes, WHILE slowly but surely moving back across the world in the direction of Florin so that I can see the love of my life again. This hellish experience traveling all over the damn world will all have been worth it for her."

It's possible that Westley was mostly having silly pirate adventures worthy of a comedic operetta, but based on the tragedies of Inigo and Fezzik's own backstories, this world is not actually that nice. Westley is being flippant and lighthearted when he later summarizes things for Buttercup, but he does seem to be one to make light of / ignore his personal suffering. I do think that he did probably make some friendships through this hardship and had some good experiences along the way, especially near the end, but I also think that the beginning of his journey must have been really shit.

So, Westley fights hard to get back home, then lands somewhere in Florin and is on his way back to the farm, but then finds out from some random villagers (or Buttercup's parents) that his shitty former prince is marrying an incomparably beautiful milkmaid named Buttercup. Like...? The love of his life didn't wait for him (she thought he was dead and is also being forced into this, so that Humperdink can murder her to start a war, Buttercup did nothing wrong) and traded up for some SHITHEAD PRINCE??? That has to HURT. (And Westley does not like admitting to feeling pain!)

Even if he loves mischief and drama, Westley is being an unnecessarily huge jerk when he kidnaps Buttercup away from her kidnapping, but also yeah, I see how his temper might be running hot. He's struggling with the fact that his True Love might have moved on after he's probably been using her memory as a thin rope of sanity for years.

#the princess bride #long post #spoilers #westley the dread pirate roberts #princess buttercup

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chiabeanz · 20 days

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Ice Packs and Peachy Delights

PAIRING: logan howlett x reader (she/her pronouns are used) SUMMARY: reader just got her wisdom teeth out and isn’t feeling very well, wade and logan are here to help | pure fluff, some tension and some swearing, PG-13 at most. WORD COUNT: 3k

The clinic's fluorescent lights flickered as the receptionist handed you a small slip of paper. “You’re all set,” she said, her tone a mix of sympathy and professionalism. You nodded, barely registering her words, and tried to say thank you through the gauze, probably sounding like something else completely but the receptionists understood. The local anesthesia had worn off just enough for you to feel the ache in your jaw, and the pain was starting to get worse by the minute.

Your face was a mix of soreness and the strange feeling of having no back molars. The dentist had handed you a small bag, its contents a bizarre souvenir from the day’s adventure—your wisdom teeth. You clutched the bag tightly, half-dismayed, half-amused at the thought of carrying around bits of yourself like a twisted memento, before carefully placing it into your tote bag.

You stumbled out into the waiting area, where Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, was leaning against the wall, casually flipping through a comic book. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he pushed himself off the wall with a flourish. “Look at you! Alive and… well, mostly intact.”

“I feel like shit,” you muttered, attempting a weak smile. Your face was still numb, but you could definitely feel the throbbing pain settling in. The gauze stuffed in your mouth made you talk with a muffled drawl.

"Well, I can promise you that you don’t look as bad as you feel." Wade tried to cheer you up, but you shot it down with a deadpan reply. "With blood pouring out of my mouth?" You say into the piece of tissue you've taken out of your bag to put over your mouth to at least save the eyes of the passerby, both of you walking towards the parking lot in front of the dentist after picking up the meds that were prescribed.

"Still a friendlier look than when you tried to throw that chair at me two months ago." He points out. "It was a joke, Wade." You reply trying to speak without messing with what feels like a crime scene in your mouth.

He replies in a softer tone, using an uncommon quieter voice he rarely used while sticking the keys into the ignition. "Still, it wasn’t very funny. Vanessa gave me that chair." You felt a pang in your chest, you didn’t mean for the conversation to shift like this, especially since he insisted from the day on that you mentioned that you had to get an appointment to get your wisdom teeth out because the pain and discomfort just kept coming and going to the point where you just did not want to procrastinate anymore, that he was going to pick you up from the dentist.

You replied, a bit more pronounced than you wanted to especially with the two pieces of gauze still sitting in the same spot that you, somehow, forgot in this second "I told you I didn’t knooooow and I already said I was SORRY- OW!" The gums didn’t like that, so you were reminded. You carefully moved your hand to cup your cheek which was slowly but surely becoming more swollen.

"Ok that one's on me," Wade replied, smiling again. "For what it's worth, I forgave you for that long ago, I know you didn't know. And I'll shut up now, for the sake of your squirell-hiding-a-fuck-ton-of-nuts cheeks." You could only throw him a heavy case of side-eye because was he wrong? The reflection of yourself glancing back at you on your phone screen would say no. Your eyes moved from the phone in your hands to a shiny piece of plastic reflecting the sunlight, picking it up from the opened bag sitting on your lap.

As Wade drove, he glanced over at you and noticed the bag you held. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

With a smirk, you lifted it up. “My wisdom teeth.”

Wade’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Oh, that’s just wrong! You’re bringing home your wisdom like a trophy? How’s that for bragging rights?”

You chuckled, despite the pain. “Yeah, well, I figured I’d keep them as a reminder of how much I’ve endured for the sake of dental hygiene.”

Wade shook his head, laughing. “You’re braver than I am. I’d have left those suckers in the dumpster. I wanted to make a joke about your loss of wisdom but I guess you're still holding onto it after all."

You both shared a laugh, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics as Wade maneuvered through traffic. The absurdity of the situation made the discomfort more bearable, and the humor helped in forgetting, if only momentarily, the throbbing pain in your jaw.

---

By the time you reached your apartment, you were a picture of post-surgical misery: bloodstained gauze, swollen cheeks, and a general air of crankiness.

Wade was rummaging through your cabinets and muttering curses under his breath. “So, what you need is... Well you actually prepped everything here, I see ice packs, painkillers, and baby food- Look at this! We have 'Applesauce,' 'Carrot Puree,' and 'Peachy Delight.' If you have some left by the end of this let me know some of these actually sound kinda good-.” "Fuck…" You sighed when the realization hit.

You forgot the one thing that honestly feels like the most important thing right now with the presence of the blood and saliva mixture in your mouth. "I forgot to buy gauze and the clinic only gave one spare pair. Shiiiit."

You leaned back onto the couch before sitting up straighter again, reminded of what your dentist had said: "Try to sit up the first few hours after the surgery until the bleeding stops." You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

He turned to you “I’ll make a run to the store then." You grimaced, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

"Please don't." You replied. "You already went all the way to pick me up, I'm not gonna let you go grocery shopping too."

He smirked and said "What are you gonna do? Stop me by challenging me to a chubby cheeks duel?" If only looks could kill, he would've been six feet under.

"Besides I'm not gonna leave you here all alone. You know what would make this whole recovery thing a lot better? Logan. He’s just around the corner. I could get him to swing by and keep you company.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice muffled by the gauze. “I look like crap. I don’t want him seeing me like this.”

Wade raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure? He’s a big softie. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind seeing you like this.”

You shook your head, wincing at the pain. “No way. I’m fine. I don’t need him to—”

“Okay, okay. I hear you,” Wade said, though his grin suggested he wasn’t taking you seriously. He fished out his phone and started typing a message, not giving you a chance to protest further.

"Wade, I swear to god if you-" You speak after him as he closes the cabinets and grabs the car keys that were just recently plopped down onto the counter, making his way to the front door.

"Sorry can’t hear you through all the gauze byeeee." With that he slams the door behind him, leaving you to fume silently. The thought of Logan seeing you in such a state was mortifying. The last thing you wanted was to be seen like this by ANYONE, let alone HIM.

---

A short while later, the doorbell rang, and you shuffled to answer it, barely managing to pull yourself together. Logan stood on the other side, looking both bewildered and amused. “Wade said you needed some help?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over your flushed face and the half-empty bag of ice clutched to your cheek. Thank god the ice chips hack worked, you don’t think you would've opened the door if you still had to bite down on the gauze. Pretending to be dead would've been the better alternative. Maybe.

You tried to muster a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, well... Wade insisted. I didn’t ask for this.”

Logan’s expression softened as he stepped inside, a soft chuckle escaping him. “I see. Well, let’s make sure you’re comfortable, yeah?” You caught him glancing around the room, probably noting the slight disarray as you tried to make yourself comfortable.

As he made his way to the couch, you watched him with a mix of relief and embarrassment. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it.”

“No trouble at all. Wade can be a bit pushy, but he’s got a good heart.” He replied and sat down on the couch next to you. The minutes ticked by, with Logan asking gentle questions and helping you adjust the ice pack. He didn’t push you to talk much, which you appreciated more than you could say.

In a moment of comfortable silence, Logan notices you shifting the ice pack in your hands. "You alright with that?" he raises his brow.

"Yeah, just a bit cold, hands are a bit frostbitey but it's fine." You reply smiling sheepishly, waving your other hand to help signify that it really is not as bad, because honestly, nothing can feel worse than your bottom jaw right now.

With that, he reaches over the couch, automatically scooting closer to you. "Give me that." He gestures towards the ice pack, making your hands a bit tingly, whether it's the cold, the nerves from the procedure, or him, you couldn't tell anymore.

"No, it's alright really. I'm serious." You reply, only for him to shut your attempt down with a short, stoic, yet sweet: "So am I." You stare into his eyes for a split second too long before you defeatedly hand the ice pack over to him.

Logan had taken to holding the ice pack for you, his touch surprisingly gentle. At first, you’d insisted you could manage it yourself. "I can do it myself, you know." You say, your voice now only a tiny bit above a whisper with how close his face has gotten to yours, his touch truly careful, becoming even softer when he doesn't miss the tiny wince that you tried to suppress when the ice pack met your cheek. You could feel the warmth of his body with how close he was to you at this point, contrasting the coldness of the ice.

“I know you can,” he said softly, “but I want you to know that you don’t always have to.”

You really hoped that he didn't see your eyes falling to his lips for a millisecond before you forcefully pulled them back to his eyes, but by the way his gaze softened and one corner of his lips shifted up ever so slightly, you couldn't be so sure anymore.

The comfortable silence settled back in again, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of your ice pack. The shift within the air, while small, was quite hard to ignore, existing like a floating invisible thread drawing you closer and closer. Logan’s presence was soothing. The way he moved, the way he breathed, the way his eyes crinkled with quiet amusement—it all made you feel oddly safe despite the pain you were in.

Just as that thread pulls you two closer than ever before, a pair of red scissors and way too fucking many grocery bags bursts through the door and cuts it straight down the middle. How he managed to unlock the door so quietly, and how the door remained in one piece, still attached to its hinges will forever remain a mystery.

“Guess who’s back with your very important gauze and baby food, and yes, I managed to avoid all the worst of the baby food aisle!”

Wade burst through the door, balancing a collection of grocery bags and a mischievous grin.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, and you couldn’t help but laugh despite the throbbing in your mouth.

Wade set the bags down with a dramatic flourish. “I see Logan has managed to make himself comfortable. Good job, buddy. I knew you’d be the perfect substitute for me.”

Logan rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he held the ice pack in a way like he was offering it to you but also hoping that you'd let him hold it for you a bit longer. “He certainly knows how to make an entrance.”

You take the ice pack from his hand whispering a soft thank you.

Wade’s gaze turned back to you, his grin softening. “So, how’s our patient holding up? I got you a mountain of gauze because you can never have too much gauze. And some top-of-the-line baby food, most of this is for me but that's not the point."

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Thanks, Wade. You really didn't have to.”

He shrugged, winking at you. “Hey, you’re the one who got her wisdom teeth yanked out. It’s practically my duty to be overly dramatic about it…Wait, don't tell me you don't need gauze anymore." He adds as he notices the lack of gauze-ness in your speech.

"I'm afraid so since you chose to take your fucking time," Logan adds as he gets up to put the now almost room-temperature ice pack back in the freezer, switching it with a new one.

You couldn’t help but smile at the friendly banter. “I appreciate it. Both of you.”

Your gaze lingered on his hands which, thank god, he didn't pick up on. Turning to Wade, however, confirmed that your eyes weren't as secretive as you hoped they were, as he wiggled his eyebrows at you before winking, earning a subtle middle finger from you while you pretended to move a strand off from your face.

Logan walks towards the couch and hands you a neatly wrapped icy cool ice pack which you take from his hands, fingertips brushing, but pulling yourself together pretending that that didn't happen because you've let yourself slip one too many times already today. You lean back against the couch and softly put the ice pack back on your cheek, feeling a bit sleepy after the entire ordeal today. Wade turns the TV on to see if anything interesting is on, settling on the armchair next to the couch while Logan takes the gauze out of the bags.

"Do you store these in your bathroom or the kitchen?" He asks looking at you, whose eyes are closed, trying not to think about the pain. Ibuprofen WILL be taken after the next meal you promised yourself.

"Both are fine but you can leave it in the bathroom, on the shelf under the mirror maybe." You reply.

"Yes ma'am," Logan replies causing you to take a subtle but deeper breath. Why was that so attractive, c’mon he's just trying to help you out what is wrong with you, you thought?

You could only say "Thank you." in return, trying to keep your voice as unaffected by whatever that was.

As Logan comes back into the living area he gestures to Wade and says "You bought so much baby food, do you know that?"

"Do you have something that you want to tell us about?" You open your eyes and jokingly raise your brow at him.

"Not in the way that you think, no, but this baby right here-" he holds his stomach. "Loves to explore all types of cuisines and he's been lustin' after 'Peachy Delight' from the second he laid his eyes on her."

"Your stomach has eyes?" You and Logan deadpan at the same time making you look at each other in amusement. You add a quick great minds think alike, narrowing your eyes in a tone of semi-seriousness but also lighthearted comment before tuning back into Wade's culinary rant. That rant then turned into a dinner party of three, taste-testing of the best of the best jars of baby food, according to the now culinary master apparently. Before the conversation moves to the couch and armchair in front of the TV.

A few more hours in, the ibuprofen after dinner has kicked in, and the comfort of the fluffy blanket you have draped over your thighs has returned, no longer being drowned out by the throbbing pain in your jaw, which is subsiding bit by bit. This return to coziness has made your eyelids feel rather heavy, something Logan noticed when he sensed your breathing become more calm and even. Wade was too glued to the TV to notice anything really. Logan’s gaze falls on your slightly flushed face caused by the ice packs that have been held against your face for most parts of the day before his gaze drifts from your cheeks to your lashes.

“You’re starting to fall asleep,” Logan said softly, adjusting the ice pack gently. He has to fight to tear his eyes away and redirect them back to the TV. “We should let you get some rest.”

You blinked sleepily, nodding in agreement. “I think this is the first time it doesn’t feel like I'm being screamed at by my own jaw since this morning.”

Logan offered a reassuring smile, carefully standing up from the couch to not disturb you, and stretched slightly. “If you need anything, just knock on the wall. We’re right next door.”

You managed a small smile, feeling a sense of comfort in his words. “Thanks, Logan. I’ll do that.”

Wade, now standing by the door with a grocery bag of baby food in hand, gave a dramatic sigh. “Alright, alright. I guess we’ll leave you to your rest. But don’t be shy about knocking. Seriously, I’ve got more baby food than any one person should ever need.”

Logan smiles at you while he grabs the doorknob. “Let’s give her some space. You know where we are if anything comes up.”

You watched them with sleepy eyes, feeling a mix of warmth and gratitude. Logan’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a hint of something unspoken in his eyes.

“Rest well,” he said softly, heading towards the door with Wade in tow.

As the door clicked shut behind them, you settled into the couch, feeling the soothing quiet of the apartment around you. The soft murmurs of their conversation through the thin wall were a comforting reminder of their presence. With a contented sigh, you allowed yourself to slip into sleep.

A/N: just got all my wisdom teeth out this morning so this is how i cope with the pain y'all, i also usually don't write stuff so i'm sorry if this was shite oops (edit: there were so many typos and mistakes i missed last night i’m so sorry to everyone who read that version omg)

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spicyyy-muffin · 2 years

Text

protective smartass

ghost x reader

i made up a random ass character just for this. super cheesy but enjoy! this is nothing but fluff.

“who did that to you?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

“yes it does y/l/n”

ghost was struggling to keep up with me as i walked as fast as i could in the opposite direction.

“why so you can tell him not to harass other team members and he will just do it again? or so you can make him run 30 laps on the track tomorrow?”

he gripped my wrist pulling me into him.

it looked worst then it really was but then again luke tried to beat the living shit out of me. we were sparring again. and he took it too far. again.

my lip was split open and the black eye he gave me was already starting to swell shut.

“who the fuck did this to you?”

his hands were cold and soft as he traced the end of my bruise.

“you should see the other guy” my lips perked up in a smile but ghosts face remained placent with the mask on.

his other hand slid to the back of my neck examining my jaw. which aparently didn’t look good judging from the look on his face.

his gaze hardened. “luke”

his hands slithered away as he took a step back i grabbed onto him this time. “ghost please just leave it”

my eyes pleaded with him the best i could. “i’ve got it under control.”

he stood silently for a few more seconds before the palms of his hands reappeared on my cheeks faster than i could blink. i cringed in pain as my right jaw screamed from the interaction. he pulled it away. the fire in his eyes only multiplied.

“how many times?”

well only, everytime i trained with him. which was once or twice a week, but when the guys were on missions without us it was a lot more. and those were a lot harder to hide.

“i can’t even believe i’m asking you.” my brows scrunched in confusion.

he shut his eyes one more time, “please just let me take care of him.” we stood in silence for a little while longer before i muttered “okay” and he was gone.

walking into the weights room the next morning there was no sign of ghost or luke. just two newbies who were trying to bulk.

“fuck dude did you see ghost destroy that kid last night?”

my veins ran cold.

“bro that man is goated! Luke is lucky if he ever fucking walks again man!”

i dropped my towel walking straight to his room. my thoughts aided as a distraction on the way. and when he finally opened the door he was in nothing but grey sweats and a mask leaving his freshly showered hair exposed. along with his lean torso covered in tattoos and scars.

and the image was enough to make me forget why i was there in the first place.

“you-“

my words were caught in my throat. jesus christ how long had it been since i got laid?

“my eyes are up here baby”

my cheeks flushed as i looked back up to him.

“i know that smartass i was just- just- coming to say thank you.”

“mmm” he pushed the door open further walking in. an invitation.

my feet hit the solid metal floors as i shut it behind me.

“so is he, gone?”

ghosts back was faced towards me as his shoulders shook in silent laughter.

“what’s so funny?”

he turned around making eye contact with me before sitting on the corner of the bed manspread with his arms resting on his knees and his eyes still on me.

“he’s lucky if he can even talk after what i did”

i stepped closer to him.

“what if something happened to you ghost? what if he got the drop before you did? or-“

he pulled back sitting up straight. “you worried about me baby?”

i ran my hands through my hair tugging at the roots before he gripped my waist pulling me to stand at the edge of the bed.

“what’s the matter with you?”

my hands traced the paint on his mask.

“i just don’t wanna see you hurt.”

his eyes lit up in amusement “and how do you think i felt seeing you get your ass handed to you by a little boy?”

i shoved his shoulder as he pinched my behind gently. “don’t be a prick.”

but the smile on my face told him i didn’t really mean it. “if no one lays there hands on you i won’t have to be.”

“you can’t protect me from everything riley.”

his thumb traced the outline of my lips. “you questioning my skills again y/l/n?” my smile widened before he grabbed my waist pulling me flat on top of the bed with him hovering over me.

“you should put some clothes on it’s distracting.” i traced his tattoos absentmindedly.

“why would i do that when your clearly enjoying yourself.” my hand slapped his stupid abs, as he hid his face in my neck laughing.

his mask lifted up pressing gentle kisses on my neck. “be careful riley, that’s dangerous territory you’re entering. it’s hard to get out of.”

his face hovered over mine his lips still in view before he leaned down and kissed me. his lips were warm in comparison to his cold body as his tongue traced my lower lips. maybe it was the lack of oxygen but the pleasure from just this alone was hard to pull away from.

“it’s a good thing i’m not going anywhere then isn’t it?”

#ghost imagine #simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #ghost fanart #ghost imagines #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut

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fraugwinska · 3 months

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Since your the queen of fluff, I had to make this request.

It’s more an angst/comfort/fluff, but I want to see Alastor dealing with his girlfriend/lover having body dysmorphia. The comfort in O Mother Mine for him was beautifully portrayed and I want Alastor to provide comfort back. Cant wait to see what you write🩷💖❤️

This was - and still is - an ask that hit very much home for me. Struggling with my self image and a long, very taxing time living with an ED since my teens, I had to take my time writing this - Because with all this history weighing in my own back pocket, I wanted to write something my younger self would've found comfort in reading. Which is why there's a lot of my own experiences woven in. Thank you for this ask, my dear. And to all who fight the fight against their own head each day - I see you. And you are worthy of every bit and piece of love, external and internal. I let our dear deer take it from here.

TW: Explicit depictions & mentions of ED and body dysmorphia - 3k words

“Why don't you want one? Do they look bad? Don't you like my chocolate chip cookies?”

Niffty stared at you, her one big eye glazed and watery, and you felt that at her whining remark all eyes were on you. Shit.

You had been at Charlie's group therapy activities for hours by now, everyone was exhausted and hangry enough for Vaggie to intervene and propose a lunch break. You managed to discreetly dodge every dish that was going around the table, making sure to have an alibi piece of bread and a few leaves of salad on your plate, just in case anyone would look at you funny, and it was good that you did. You glanced around the table to find Alastor of all people staring at you from the other side, and pretending obliviousness you turned to Angel with a smile, laughing at whatever he said, and shoved a few bits of salad into your mouth. ‘See, I'm eating, all good.’

You thought the worst was over when the others pushed their dishes into the middle of the table with content sighs and filled bellies. But then Niffty had been hopping around, offering everyone the masses of cookies she had been baking with Pentious the evening before, and Niffty was just not dodgeable.

“Aw Niff, of course I do, and they look amazing! But I'm so full, stuffed, I really can't take another bite.” Perhaps you imagined it, but you thought you heard a static crack of feedback and you shot a quick glance over to Alastor, but he was drinking his After-Lunch coffee with closed eyes, detached and apparently trying to drown out the babbling sinners around him. Irritated, you turned to the little, pouting cyclops girl again, your voice purposely louder as you said “Tell you what, I'll take one now and save it for later, okay? I can't pass up on your delicious treats, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick, and when you wrapped the cookie you took from a beaming Niffty into a napkin and slid it in your pocket, she and everyone else seemed satisfied and they turned their attention elsewhere - At least you hoped they were.

Another few long, dragging hours later Charlie finally released you all, and the communal groan of relief was only overlapped by the pitter-patter of multiple pairs of feet rushing behind Husk to the bar in desperate need for a strong drink. You were contemplating to join them, even if it was just for a glass of water, but that thought was instantly buried when Angel called over to you.

“Oy, toots, come on and drag ‘ya fat ass over here, I need ‘ya to tell sourpuss here to let me pluck his overgrown eyebrows. Bitch is starting to look like Frieda Kahlo.”

It was an innocent, friendly-meant remark. You knew that. Angel was your friend, you knew that. The laughter that followed his call was a reaction to his crassness. You knew that. But your already aching stomach twisted, and it took everything in you to keep your face from crumbling, and the smile on your lips felt fragile when you answered.

“No can do, Ange, I’m heading to my room. I feel a headache coming up. See you guys later.”

You hurried out the hall as fast as you allowed yourself without looking like you’re fleeing, passing Charlie in vivid conversation with Alastor, throwing her a dismissive wave of the hand when she broke off in the middle of her sentence to ask if you needed anything and ignored the red eyes that were burning your back as you speeded to the lift.

For a moment you felt safe inside the elevator, closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall to deeply breathe in and out to calm your racing thoughts when the doors closed. But then you opened them again, your reflection was staring back at you from the mirrored wide wall of the lift cabin. You stared blankly at the hated body in front of you, eyes mapping every curve that was too wide, every point your clothes wrinkled over a roll of fat.

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here…Fat ass..Fat...

You ran out of the cabin the moment the 'ding' announced your arrival at your floor and the doors opened, vision blurry from the pooling tears. As soon as you slammed the door to your room shut and turned the key in the lock behind you, you sobbed, leaning your head on the hard wood of your bedroom door. Tears were streaking your face as you sank down to sit on the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking from suppressed and failed attempts to cry silently. The room was silent, but your head was loud. Too loud.

Honey, you can't go to school like that, you look like a stuffed sausage. Go back and change…

No, pumpkin, the hamburger is for daddy. You’ll eat a salad, like mommy. Don’t you want to be as beautiful as mommy…

A Bikini? Wow, someone's feeling brave today...

You'd look so beautiful babe, if you'd only lose a few pounds...

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." It was no use. Begging them to stop never helped. Your hands pressed down on your ears but they couldn’t silence the insistent, ghostly voices inside, louder and louder and louder, repeating the same sentences over and over again and you wanted to rip them off, just to maybe get them out, deafen them, make them…

“Stop that now, Darling." Two hands that were not your own were on yours, long fingers peeling them away from your ears and taking them in tender but firm grips to pull your arms apart. Those foreign hands were dark and warm and much bigger than yours, holding you by the wrists as they pulled you away from the door and back onto your feet. Without releasing them, you felt a chest pressing against your back as the hands on your wrists guided them into an embrace, cageing you with crossed arms in front of you in warmth and the firm, humming body of Alastor. "There now, that's much better isn't it. Now breathe, dearest, with me. Do it with me."

Your mind was a haze of scattered and pained thoughts and fears that were struggling and lashing out to the surface, but they quieted into soft whimpers and whizzing like a dying steam train with every steady, deep inhale Alastor took with you, his chest rising against your back and his breath steady in your ears. He waited a few moments after he had made you breathe normally again before letting go and gently turning you to face him, hands now on your shoulders as you avoided his eyes, but when he looked at your face and your tear streaked cheeks he wiped the wetness away from your skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Why did you come?" You sounded husk and defeated. You knew your jig was up. You've been found out. At last.

"How did I not come sooner would be the better question, darling." Alastor answered, leaving his hand cupped on your cheek, thumb still in mid-stroke as he talked to your averted face. His voice was clear, even-keel, just loud enough for you to hear. And you heard him all the better for not facing him, his signature transatlantic accent and theatrical flourish in his tone, always so strong and prominent, was missing entirely as he continued. "For a few weeks now I've suspected that something was not right with you, my dear. Though I didn't want to press the matter, today has confirmed this. You've not eaten any of the food prepared, spare the few bits of greenery that wouldn't even nourish the roaches that pester this hotel, and we both know you only did because you knew you were being watched."

Watched by him. You sighed quietly at the accuracy, finally turning to look at him, awaiting to find judgment and ridicule, though the red deer demon didn't move at all. He just carried on his stroke with the thumb under your eyes, which started tearing up again, his expression strangely soft.

"My shadows reported that you were hiding food given to you just to throw it away later, and I took notice how you constantly avoided reflective surfaces. Darling, your image must haunt you and I cannot imagine the reason why. I find myself asking: What would drive you to starve yourself, to hide from mirrors and cut your eyes to any remarks looking for underlying maliciousness?"

What a loaded question, asked so simply. And he seemed honestly confused. No smirk, no tilted head. You paused for a long while before answering him.

"You... you won't understand, Alastor."

"Then help me to, darling." He coaxed you, now moving both his hands to hold your face and pull your head closer to lean his forehead to yours, looking firmly in your eyes. And it dawned on you then that the radio demon, the overlord who never revealed weakness, never showed real emotions or shared much with anyone, the one demon who walked these halls smiling and sneering with menace and mystery and endless pride, was purposely and genuinely showing you that he cared.

Maybe it was the fatigue and the despair finally getting the best of your defense system. Maybe it was because he wasn't just anybody. Alastor was so many things but most importantly, he was your friend, had been ever since you and him found mutual interests in each other in countless nights that were spent in quiet by the fireplace in the hall. He liked your level-headedness, your ability to listen, really listen, patiently and actively. You liked his vivaciousness, the vast knowledge of him that he could share when one was just willing to let him talk. Yes, the others were nice, and yes, you felt close to all of them after a few months. But you felt the closest to him, proven by the fact that not Charlie knocked on your door, or Angel noticed you were paler and thinner than weeks ago. But Alastor. Maybe you just needed that final push and he had given it to you.

So you spilled. Through sobs, tears and sighs, you told him everything:

From your family that wouldn't stop comparing you with your thinner friends, fostering a hatred for food because of misguided care. You shared that your health became less and less important with every diet and lost pound, seeing your aching stomach as a sign of sucess. How you'd hate yourself for lack of discipline when you starved yourself so much your brain snapped and you ate any- and everything you found until you felt sick and disgusting. How your friends while alive were never intentionally hurtful, yet dismissive about your insecurities, complaining to you about their sizes while you felt like they were mocking you, being stick thin and conventionally beautiful. And you told him about your one and only boyfriend, who accepted the relationship under the pretense that you'd change to fit his preferences, always waiting for you to drop weight he saw as too much, to shape you the way he wanted you to be, threatening to keep you secret from his friends and family until you did. And you did. But you paid the bitter price - got cheated on while you counted calories, and when you finally reached the set weight he dictated, he left. Leaving you hungry and confused, thin and sick and so, so lost.

With every word his hold on you grew tighter and tighter. But so did yours on him. This time, it was him who listened quietly, never interrupting, and only at the mention of that asshole ex is when he made a sound, his ears went flat against his skull as a low growl rumbled in his throat, but his expression remained perfectly stoic, absorbing your words quietly. After you finished you leaned heavily against Alastors chest and hid your face there, feeling drained and guilty for soaking his expensive coat with your pitiful tears. Your entire body was numb with exhaustion and pain, so was the emptiness inside of you that your self-deprecating thoughts have been inhabiting for years, and you dreaded the response Alastor could give to your pathetic life-story.

"All those people have proven to you to be thoroughly disappointing." was what Alastor said first, speaking very softly with his chin leaning against your scalp. "It makes the blood call for revenge when thinking about the throes you've had to put up with. You don't owe anybody to change anything about yourself that you do not wish to."

You couldn't hold back another tear that rolled down your nose and onto Alastor's shirt, clinging tighter to him and shaking your head against his shoulder, nuzzling his shirt in desperate and trained denial of comforting words.

"Aren't they right though? I'm not like Charlie, or Angel, or even you. I'm not...they are so… just... look at me." You muttered and tried to push out of the hug to avoid looking him in the eye, but the demon didn't give.

"Oh, I am." He gave you a stern stare, unintimidating and almost tender as he pulled you back closer. "Darling, I am looking at you, more than you think. And all I see is a strong, intelligent and beautiful little sinner, so willing to give everyone more grace and gentleness than herself that she hides from every compliment she deems unworthy of her, ashamed of her lovely shape that was the source of so much torment." Alastor sighed, cupping your face in a loose grip, shaking his head in disbelief. "Everyone of us has flaws, we are inherently imperfect creatures, some more than others, and yet you've managed to convince yourself those flaws and imperfections define you in their entirety."

Your instincts told you to flee, to run from this kindness that was offered to you so alluringly. It has to be a trap, your head told you, don't trust those words, don't give in. And you almost tried to, your muscles tensed as if to bolt, your breath quickened as if about to run, your heart pounded as if preparing to fight his arms for release. But you didn't.

Maybe, a long forgotten voice spoke in your mind, maybe it wasn't a trick. Maybe he was earnest, like he had been the past couple months in your company. He's here now, isn't he? Holding you and reassuring you and calming you in a way no one ever had. He hadn't put an inch between him and you to allow your doubts space to creep back in, keeping you at his side - not just now, but over the last weeks continuously, had never spoken ill of you or tried to change you, had no agenda, nothing to gain from lying to you.

Alastor smiled when you sank back into his arms, and this time when he stroked your tears away, he let his fingers come to rest at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. And without a word he leaned forward, eyes half closed, and kissed you on your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, as if to wait for your reaction, asking a question without words. And you answered it ever so silently, turning your head to meet them with your own.

The kiss was a revelation of truth. Because he was kissing you the way you always longed to be kissed.

There wasn't passion in it, it wasn't hungry and fast or hard and demanding. It wasn't meant to make you hot or make your legs weak, but to tell you that you were cared for, that you were accepted exactly the way you were, imperfections included, and that all the days you've suffered for the wrong reasons were gone with the past and needn't to be re-visited. That you were enough. You always have been.

When he parted from you, Alastor looked content. More than that, actually. Not smiling wide as usually but with eyes sparkling in mirth that could have easily matched that of Charlie on a particularly good day. When he leaned into you again, you almost expected another kiss, but he reached into your pocket, pulling the napkin with Niffty's cookie inside out of your pocket, holding it up expectantly.

"Now, I think it's high time you feed yourself, darling - and you did promise our little Niffty you'd enjoy this later, which it is now."

You stared, first at Alastor, then at the baked good, the guilty conscience you've nursed for so many years creeping back into your thoughts.

"Alastor, I don't know... if I can."

He tilted his head contemplating, turning the cookie in his hand before he snapped it in half, handing you one half while he brought the other to his mouth and raised a brow.

"We'll share it then."

This gesture was everything. It was everything, because you knew he really didn't care for sweet treats. But he cared for you.

You took your half from his hands, feeling the corners of your lips pull into a small smile at the way he scrunched his nose at the sticky thing in his hands when you both bit in. But his free hand found yours, entwining your fingers as he suffered through his bite, and as you watched him him struggling to keep an unfazed expression, you thought that - while Niffty might've put in her best efforts - nothing she or anyone could make could ever sate your hunger more than his lips could.

Tagging my lovely testreaders @bapple117 and @macabr3-barbi3, who really encouraged and reassured me. I love you both, as well as the others in Bapples discord server (TRUST US and join NOW) who never tire of lifting me up when I'm struggling <3

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel husk #Habin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel alastor #body dysmorphia #eating disorder #quickfic #angst and fluff #soft alastor #you are worthy #you are loved #you are not alone

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