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chaithetics · 4 months

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frothing at the mouth for any norm fics

Gaps of Sunlight

Pairing: Norm Maclean (Fallout) x f reader Word count: 4.5K Gif by @klausbens Warning: Barely proofread, pining, longing, maybe a little fluff and angst? a jab at Chet's weird crush, this is set before the events of Fallout S1 so some 'foreshadowing' I guess but doesn't have any spoilers! Mitski inspired! A/N: Ask and you shall receive 🙏(translation: thank you for enabling me!!!) This is my first time writing Norm and it's the most fun I've had with writing a fic in a long time! I feel like I'm a more descriptive writer and I haven't had an idea flow like this in quite a while. I feel like this is similar to 'Porce and the Shark' in terms of writing? Idk how well this flows as a story lol?!?! I've barely written any angst and I haven't really done any yearning, so I hope this is good! So please validate, I just felt like I was never going to finish or/fix it enough so I thought I'd post it as is. Thought about the queen of angst, @inknopewetrust's work a lot when I started writing this. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated 🫶

You lay in bed as you couldn’t help but think about it all. Once again. You could go outside to the corn fields but all that could offer you was a projection from a time and place well before you were even conceived as an idea. You’d never really know what the sunlight felt like, how it would heat your chin and what it would be like to bathe in that light. You had tried to live vicariously through that with what approved, classic literature had survived the war and through the vaults. Shakespeare didn’t offer you much beyond metaphors that were just out of your grasp with relatability to your environment, you hadn’t particularly enjoyed Chaucer, an opinion you’d kept from your father. While the Brontë sisters were able to perfectly let you know what rain in a different continent would’ve felt like against your face and how it would’ve smelt and made your shoes feel to run across an English countryside, they never enlightened you about what being bathed in sunlight would feel like. There were only so many times you could read and annotate Homer’s works awaiting a revelation.

Despite how everyone else moved around Vault 33, it was impossible for you to not help but wonder more of life. What it all was, and what it all meant.

You pull yourself out of a possible mental spiral and quickly get ready for the day as it eases on just as every other day does in the Vault. There’s breakfast with a pleasant conversation with your family, and you teach English classes to the youth of Vault 33, you participate in other extracurriculars just like most of the other Vault dwellers but teaching takes up the bulk of each of your days. You don’t mind that at all though, you enjoy it, even on days where everything feels like a complete rut. The mornings when the blue of the vault suits feels like too much, the pleasantries feel more like programming than authentic connections.

It had started like every other day and classes had happened accordingly, there was now the communal reprieve of lunch. As you slowly chew you look up and see him across the dining hall, despite being from the poster-perfect vault family, he’s Vault 33’s very own black sheep, Norman MacLean. He’s sitting there silently while his dad and Lucy are happily chatting away. Each taking turns trying to lure him into conversation, which he rejects each time with a quick, blink and you’ll miss it shake of his head. The same expression he always wears these days and has for years is etched onto his face, a chronic look of apathy.

You can’t help but stare at him for a moment, watching the way he looks on almost blankly. Even from across the room, you can see every thought in those brown doe eyes as if he’s saying them aloud. How is it that he’s still so misunderstood?

You’d grown up with Norm, he’d always been nice to you, even when you were at school. But that wasn’t exceptional, that was the whole thing with vault-dwellers, being nice people, even from a very young age. It’s not exactly a melting pot of cultures in the Vault like you know the surface once was but the culture is to be nice, chirpy, and practical.

Norm was nice, he had a quiet charm, he’d be a good politician, just in a different way and style as his father, he was practical but he didn’t have a cheery disposition. He lacked enthusiasm and at times it seemed to almost fascinate him how much that little rebellion could bother people. He didn’t put himself out there and you remember how he was smart, he knew answers to the questions that were asked but he’d never put his hand up for them.

It made you wonder at times if he was scared of his own voice. You feel your eyes squinting as you look at him wondering that question, as if studying his jawline for another minute or watching him lift his fork up to his mouth will tell you.

With a deep breath, you tilt your head discreetly to look around to see if anyone noticed your infatuated staring but nobody seems to. You still put a polite, chirpy smile on your face in case anyone did. That should be enough for anyone to notice anything your eyes might’ve been betraying.

Your mind still stays on him, because as always, you might see him better than anyone else but he is still a puzzle with pieces you have yet to find the corners to.

You’re sitting near the cornfield, trying to live vicariously in a world that’s not yours, one that will always be out of touch, just trapped into ink on a page and repeated for the ears of children, to fulfil a mission. But it’s his voice that pulls you out of the inner world of classical Greek horrors.

“Sunny day today.” He says as he looks down at you as you sit on the chair and look at his standing form. He says it as if it isn’t sunny every day with that projection meant to convince you of what the surface once knew and not instead fall flat and be more reminiscent of golden Hollywood-esque crops on sets of the films that have survived. Norm’s voice is quiet, he’s just as soft-spoken as you remember him being so long ago. His tone is bored, but it doesn’t deter you, how could it when he’s standing in front of you looking into your eyes?

He looks into your eyes, taking in the colour, worried that someday he could forget the flicks closest to your eyes. They might rearrange if he doesn’t look at them for another ten seconds to appreciate them. He could forget them. But he never would.

“Just like your disposition.” You quietly tease, offering him a shy smile.

Just as if it’s somehow not always sunny, a rare occasion worth being spoken about, so is his unchanging character. But beyond adding in a couple of cups of more confidence perhaps, you don’t think there’s much else that could be worth editing.

“And for that exact reason, I’m surprised I’m getting a job transfer with the reasoning being my enthusiasm levels.” He says with a breathless chuckle.

You tilt your head as you look up at him, he’s still standing, the toe of his shoe almost toying with something invisible on the artificial emerald green grass. You’d put your thumb in your book when he’d arrived but now you put your bookmark in and gently close it. Placing it gently on your lap.

It hadn’t been that long since you’d both finished your education, having had jobs and duties in the vault was important for its efficiency and functionality. But still, this wouldn’t be Norm’s second job. You were still the teacher you’d been assigned at the start of your adult life, most people in the vault only ever had one job, sometimes they would change and so have had two in their whole life and of course, there would be a change of two or sometimes three for overseers, but three while still being so young was very rare. You had questions and internal crises about this world all the time, there was always a moment somewhere in your world that you felt slightly out of place. But still, contentment had found a way to settle in your bones much easier than it did for him.

“What were the enthusiasm levels?” You ask quietly, slowly blinking. You already know the answer.

Norm looks down at the ground, at the grass he could tug out and it would just never grow back. No matter how desperately everyone would want to pretend it would. His foot is so close to yours, mere inches away, the toe of his shoe could just brush against yours and no one would know.

“Nought.” He says with disinterest, he slightly shrugs his shoulders as his eyes stay planted on the ground.

“Something will stick eventually.” You say.

You say stick, you don’t say that there will definitely be something he loves or that it’ll all be okay, it’s not what he wants to hear and you don’t know if there’s a role in this world that you both live in that would fulfil him as much as his father is fulfilled by being Overseer. He appreciates that. But he needs to change the subject.

“Is a literature teacher always reading?” He questions as if it’s a riddle that might amuse him.

“More likely to happen than finding them counting.” You say as you tilt your head. You don’t remember the last time he approached you for conversation, or the last time that he did and there were this many words. It would’ve been back when you were younger, still classmates. You can’t track an exact memory down which surprises you.

“So, what’s that one?” He asks looking at the book in your lap for a moment before his eyes slowly gaze back to your face, making eye contact for the first time in over a minute. You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at this. You feel seen as his eyes rake up and take in every facial feature and unique mark on you.

Everyone makes a false and fatal assumption about Norm. They assume that because he’s not extroverted and over-the-top warm like Lucy or Hank, that he’s not charming. That’s complete crap. You know it’s false. He’s not the same as his family or a lot of the people in your home vault but without a doubt, Norman MacLean oozes charisma. He knows just when to turn it on and how to utilise it in the best way with each person. And right now, it’s working on you.

“The Three Theban plays, by Sophocles.” You whisper as your eyes bore into him, you don’t dare to blink. Too scared that he might just disappear if you do, and that when your eyes open again, this will all be confirmed as another of one of your many daydreams about him. “They’re tragedies, I’m reading Antigone, at the moment.” You feel yourself latching each word onto the next word as if you’re climbing a ladder and need to build more rungs at the same time, there’s some intrinsic need in you to draw this out for just a few more moments. His presence gives you some kind of glow. You finally blink, your eyes not able to hold it anymore, he’s somehow still standing in front of you once your lids open. You immediately wonder if you’ve said too much and try to fight the urge to sigh but the urge to not let on how embarrassed you feel is more of a priority, you need to keep that internal.

“And what has that taught you?” He asks with a small smile.

Someone else might’ve found the tone cold. If someone else had asked that exact question, it might’ve felt condescending. But you know exactly what it is.

Norm knows better, not better than you, he’s not that kind of arrogant. It’s because he’s always known that he knows better than most in these reinforced concrete and metal walls you all live in. But you live in a meritocracy. Everyone is in constant pursuit to be kind and to better and upskill as a contributing member of Vault society. Of course if someone’s openly reading it’s an academic pursuit, to be more well-read, that they can learn an important tale and moral lesson, or to use it as a quote to whip out at a convenient time in a council meeting or for intellectual criticism of another philosopher or writer’s thesis. And you both know it’s why each book that was chosen for survival by Vault-Tec was carefully curated, all in the name of intellectual pursuits and other reasons beyond either of your imagination.

“Just further proof why we have rules against familial relations.” You reply after a slow blink, you remember what his sense of humour used to be like in class, how teachers would occasionally stifle an eye roll and sigh or would take a moment to then replaster their smile back on. You look at him, and your eyes can’t help but take in the shape of his nose as if you hadn’t already committed it to memory a thousand times before now.

“Hah.” He says quietly, as if it’s amusing, which he finds to be a little as he lets out a small chuckle and his mouth quirks up and that makes you happy. It’s an expression that doesn’t grace his handsome face often. “Might need to pass that on to Chet, if that’s the case, I doubt he’s read it.”

You let out a chuckle at that, and Norm’s brow furrows for a mere second as he takes you in. His mouth is still in a small smile but not many people find his humour to actually be humorous, his father and Lucy love him but he earns more small sighs and tired smiles from them than anything close to a laugh.

“I’ll let you know when I’m done with this copy.” You reply with another slow blink.

You watch his mouth, mentally tracing his lips with your eyes as he sucks his lips for a moment and nods, his eyes dropping to the ground again. It’s only then that you realise how close the toes of your feet are to each other. He couldn’t be looking down because of that, or thinking about that though. You are cursed to yearn in silence. “Appreciate it.” He says with a small smirk as he looks up at your eyes, he raises his eyebrows slightly to replace any verbal goodbyes and he walks off.

Norm leaves you as he found you minutes before, all alone in false sunlight with a book in your hands. You still haven’t found the missing puzzle pieces.

It had been four days now. Four days since you’d had that conversation with Norm, there had been plenty of stolen glances, and a few returned smiles when your eyes met across corridors or the dining hall, but Norman MacLean was still, one of the only things occupying your mind.

You wouldn’t complain, why would you? How could you when the fact that those glances, and snippets of conversations were now a supercut in your head that provided comfort whenever you started to get into another emotional crisis about vault life and what the history was that had brought everyone to this point. But still, you couldn’t help but sometimes worry over this yearning. How unrequited it could be. How unrequited it felt.

You felt a hunger in the pit of your stomach each time that you saw his shadow, each time you two made eye contact you couldn’t help but feel as if it was a caress on your skin, even though the only time he’d touched you was to help you up when you’d fallen over outside when you were seven. He’d insisted on being the one to put the excessive amount of band-aids on your grazed hands. Hank had stood back and watched, finding it endearing, how concentrated Norm’s face was at such a young age. Maybe they should’ve thought about trialling him in medicine, but no, he probably still lacked the desired enthusiasm during the first-aid training vault-dwellers did.

You were seated with your family for a council update, everyone gathered to sit on the folded chairs, you and your family were always extremely punctual, you sat with them on one side while the other was still a row of a few empty seats.

As people slowly trickle in you see Norm come in, he looks mentally fatigued as he looks around, you turn your head to face your family so you don’t catch his eye in hopes of him not noticing your stare. How pathetic would he think you are if he saw you looking at him like a wide-eyed puppy, begging for love? You can imagine, but you don’t want to know. After a moment you hear somebody sit down next to you, the chatter of people finding seats fills your ears but you don’t hear any from whoever sits down. You feel their arm brush against yours, you know it’s nothing but you instinctively turn to see who it is and to give them a polite and welcoming smile.

It’s Norm. Of course, it’s Norm. But why is it? He’s just facing ahead so he hasn’t acknowledged you yet, although you’re sure he can see your smile and look in his peripheral vision. “Hey.” You say quietly in a warm voice as you look at his handsome side profile, he shouldn’t look that good. His face shouldn’t be so perfectly sculpted. “Hi.” He says quietly as he tilts his head giving you a small look that seems dramatically playful which makes you smile, and let out a silent chuckle. Norm’s face turns back ahead to face the front where his father now stands and the council sit. Your eyes follow his gaze and you turn back in your seat to look straight ahead as Hank MacLean starts his updates in his usual down-to-earth, selfless leader tone.

You can’t help but wonder if this is a sign, him choosing this seat, you even wonder if his arm brushing against you was intentional as he sat down and then again you wonder if you were being crazy for wondering that. As Hank’s words go on to fill the air, they don’t really fill your head, that’s too busy being at full capacity with thoughts of Norman. You rub your chin after a moment, hoping the feeling of your fingertips and nails against your chin might create a sensory distraction. You get a completely different kind of sensory distraction when his arm gently brushes against yours as he leans back in his seat, he adjusts himself so that your shoulders are touching and you can feel his arm against yours. You can’t help but silently gasp, hoping he doesn’t hear it and your breath traps itself as you hold your breath. Feeling far too scared to move. It has to be intentional, you look at him through the corner of your eye as you try not to move. He’s still looking ahead, his expression unfazed as he looks at the people in front of him but he’s still sitting in that position. He hasn’t moved his arm.

It’s intentional.

You try to breathe again as your cheeks heat up, and you bite the corner of your lip. The feeling of his arm against yours sends shivers up your spine and you can feel the warmth of that small point of contact radiating throughout the rest of your body.

The connection you feel with Norm is deep and for the first time in quite a while, this simple gesture of touching arms makes you wonder if these years of yearning maybe aren’t unrequited. You feel your shoulders start to slowly rise and fall again at this thought, this movement hasn’t disturbed Norm away. A smile grows on your face like the corn that’s picked around the year, as you smile and look ahead. The meeting continues like this, it isn’t till the end that you lose that gentle, physical touch, sweet connection that you long for as Norm gets up and leaves to carry on with his day, you smile as he stands up, he gives you as small smile and walks away. You’re now touch-starved all over again, and you think it feels more hollow after feeling a touch from him.

Maybe one day it won’t be just your arms touching but instead your hands, your hands will brush against each other and then your fingers will interlock together. You’re better at camouflaging but you’re certain that your souls are made of and connected by the same things.

It’s been what feels like an eternity since you felt Norm’s simple touch, it’s occupied every thought and been the reason behind nearly every smile since it happened. The question is though, has it been haunting Norm at all? You know he isn’t seeing anyone, secrets like that don’t exist here and it would certainly be talk with how introverted Norm is.

Hours is the amount of time you’ve spent trying to think of a reason to approach him but nothing feels right and you decide against it anytime you get close to it. You try to find any excuse to visit him and the one you can think of is beyond pathetic, and you know that.

You find another copy of a collection of plays and decide to give it to Norm, for him to decide whether he wants to read it or to fulfil a bit. It’s not a good reason, but it’s the best you’d been able to come up with. And at least with the book in your hands there would be some comfort in the pages, the smell of them and the remaining dust that haunted the corners that had been facing the wall. It can ground you and be something to hold onto anxiously while you make a fool of yourself. Norm conveniently answers after you’ve knocked at the MacLean family unit. He looks at your face and raises his eyebrows slightly, his face switches from an apathetic expression to one a bit warmer. “Hey.” You say, smiling at him but you think it must come off as panicked and scared as you look at him with wide eyes and feel an anxious parasite growing and feeding off of you in your brain.

“Hi.” He says as he steps back letting you come into the unit. You walk in, and it’s nice and tidy but it’s the same as essentially your family unit and every other unit in Vault 33. You blink as you look around for a couple of seconds and your eyes land back on him, he’s been watching you the whole time.

“After Lucy?” He asks and you feel your cheeks heat up, you liked Lucy, she was an extremely lovely person and you did consider her a close friend. “No.” You shake your head, the admission makes you feel like coming here was an even worse idea than what you thought it was just a few minutes ago. “I brought a copy of tragedies, in case you needed any dark reading, or wanted to… pass them on…” You continue and bite your lip for a second.

Norm lets out a little chuckle that shakes his shoulders for a second but it’s borderline silent, almost not real. He looks into your eyes and takes a step closer, you’re not sure if he’s going to do the hospitality script you learn from a young age of offering a glass of water or cup of old Joe.

Instead, he quickly steps closer and Norm places his hands on the back of your neck, you sharply exhale and you know that the hair on the back of your neck is standing up. The feeling of goosebumps on every inch of your skin overwhelms your senses as his lips finally crash down.

His lips are slightly chapped and you can feel that against yours, the fine lines and cracks as they press against your mouth. There’s nothing you can do but melt into his touch as you’re overcome with warmth. But there isn’t anything else you’d want to do anyway.

There’s nothing else you can imagine feeling that feels this good. You kiss him back instinctively and put your hand into his hair as he deepens the kiss, his hair is soft and you run your fingers through it as you feel his tongue, and it’s a clash of your mouths against the other.

You immediately wonder if the physical warmth of where your bodies come into contact, his breath against your face, his warm lips, and the warmth that envelops you internally is what sunlight feels like. This feeling basks you in what you imagine would be similar to being basked in the light of sunrays would.

You don’t know how long this lasts, it feels like a sweet lifetime but still deliciously short as you kiss and feel his hair while his hand is gentle on the back of your neck. Like all things, it eventually ends. You look at each other with widened eyes and pant as your lips are no longer in contact. Your cheeks heat up and you almost want to giggle. You see his face is flushed and his eyes shine, you think it’s adoration but you could be projecting.

“My dad will be back soon.” He whispers knowingly as his eyes look glassy. “Oh.” You look around as if that’ll help you feel more composed. You weren’t expecting this to end so abruptly, this felt like something straight out of a dream and now it was a cold end, something want to shapeshift into a nightmare. You know you should leave, you’re feeling far too flustered to try and have a conversation with Hank and you know this isn’t a conversation Norman wants to try navigating around with his father. “We um… Well, we need to talk…” You breathe out.

He smiles and whispers your name, the tone is reverent as he says each syllable. “Not now.” His eyes look a little less glassy but it’s still a visible sheen and you can see it, the sun has withdrawn a little.

“Not now?” You repeat, it comes out as a shaky question though as you feel every muscle in your body tense.

This is rejection, this is what puts all those protagonists you’ve read of into a depression that only the seaside can cure if anything can cure it. Being in this vault, you don’t think you can ask for cornfield projections to change to windy cliffs with waves crashing and the artificial grass to be replaced with manmade sand. You’d always wondered about the sunlight but now you’d have to wonder what sand from a beach felt like as well.

“No.” He whispers. “That isn’t fair. Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” He blinks and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you.

“When?” “Maybe when you finish the book, not a copy, your book.”

“Not a copy?” Your face scrunches up, as your brain runs screaming.

“No.” He answers. “Yours probably has thoughtful annotations or something right?” He asks.

“Or something.” You whisper back.

“I’ll read that.” He says.

You nod, as you pick up the spare copy and walk out from the MacLean unit, you don’t feel like you’re controlling your body right now, it must be some form of muscle memory. Maybe you need to read and reread every book in the vault to further investigate if what you just felt was sunlight. Or, you wonder, are you still under gaps of sunlight, missing Norm more than anything?

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rulimaquina · 5 months

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Thinking about how horrified Lucy is when she goes to Level 12 in Vault 4 and believes that the women in the cryo suites are being used as incubators for the twisted experiment she assumes the people leading the vault are running. Only to find out that SHE and every other woman in Vault 33 and, prior to them finding out the truth, Vault 32 are walking incubators for the twisted experiment that the people leading HER vault —her father included, literally as the overseer— are running.

#fallout prime #fallout spoilers #lucy maclean #fallout show #fallout series #that's why i love that in vaultghoul lucy can't get pregnant

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 1 year

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So... I don't have a very specific request, I'm just a huge fan of your writing and particularly the smuts you've written with Leon lol, so I wanted to ask for something really naughty like AS PORNOGRAPHIC AS POSSIBLE and maybe related to degradation kink lol please I'M BEGGING YOU NOT TO JUDGE ME, I know this isn't much like canonical leon so feel free to use other characters you like, really just wanted to use the chance of asking you something before you close the requests <33 thanks!!

Okay... Your wish is my command! I hope you don't mind it that since you gave me freedom to pick a character, I actually chose to write Wesker porn. If it's not of your taste you can totally send me another request and istg I'll do it with any character you want lol now, I love Wesker, and I like to keep as close as I can to the cannonical personality, so I should warn this gives a hella toxic and abusive relationship hints! I hope you enjoy it, anon, as well as y'all <;3

Bunny | 3.2k

ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Albert Wesker x f! reader ✦ Summary: You wake up in Wesker's mansion after accomplishing a difficult mission and he gives you a new drug he's been testing. The effects are quite... dear to you. ✦ TW: HIGHLY NSFW MINORS DNI, explicit, very explicit, smut, very pornographic, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, very much porn, p in v, degradation kink, unprotected, he cums inside, dirty talk, petcalling, he humiliates you a bit, he's rather toxic as Wesker would be, uses you, no fluff (very slightly in his own wicked way) I inspired this in this song, since I'm dumb and don't know how to embed spotify songs in here, click here if you'd like to hear it <3

You open your eyes to a big, vast dining room in front of you. The walls are adorned with exquisite wallpaper and ornate trimwork. The ceiling is high and vaulted, with beautiful light fixtures hanging from what seems to be golden chains. The room is lavishly furnished with a massive mahogany dining table, with beautiful wine-red chairs that seem to belong to a very expensive collection. Crystal chandeliers cast a dim, flickering light over the table, and paintings in ornate frames hang on the walls, with their eccentric content - suits the owner quite well.

Doesn’t take you much to realize you’re in Albert’s mansion. You’ve never been here before, only perhaps by the gates, delivering something off to the doorman and that was far from enough to even wonder what secrets lived vivid inside of those walls.

“You’re finally awake… Good.” You hear his voice coming from behind you, and then his hands calmly taking over both your shoulders, his fingers brushing against the thin material of your shirt. As you look down at yourself, you realize you’re wearing completely new clothes, different from the used, semi-destroyed ones you were before on mission. You’re clean, you can feel the delicious smell of your own perfume sprayed along your hair and neck. “You've caused quite a stir among my colleagues, my dear…” He continues, with a faint smirk playing on his lips; you shiver.

“Is that so… May I ask why, Doctor?” You ask, your face lifting just enough over your shoulder so you can look up at him.

Wesker chuckles softly, his pale blue eyes burning into yours over the rim of his glass. He takes a leisurely sip of wine before setting it down on the table, along with another glass - one he offers to you, in a hand gesture. You accept, sipping a bit from it.

“Do you underestimate yourself? Your talent? Your own dedication to me and my projects, you see - it is enviable for many, bunny.” His predatory grin widens in pointy canines. “And you succeeded again. I trust you encountered no complications in your way? Despite the clear miscommunication at the end, of course, dear I should’ve let you know about my little creation there…”

You feel a mixture of unease and a strange sense of satisfaction at his words. Deep down, you know that you want it - his twisted form of affection, his praising whenever you succeed at something he longs for. You can’t hold back a sly grin from forming on your lips as a response.

“I dealt with it.” You summed. “No witnesses, and your little creation almost killed me, Albert.” You sigh, and Wesker lets out a wicked soft laugh to your commentary.

“Nonsense… I’d never let you go to waste like that. Do you really have so little faith in me?” One of his hands slides up from your shoulder, trailing a feather-light touch along your neck; fast enough, a motion of his wraps it up around your neck almost entirely. You feel shivers down your spine and straighten up your posture to the sudden bit of force he applies.

“No, of course not… All I meant is, it was a complication. I don’t think I’d make it if it wasn’t for you.” You admit, your eyes gleaming through the dim light of the chandelier and gazing through his icy crimson eyes. Wesker’s free hand reaches out for your face, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers in a calm yet firm motion; it lifts your face and now you have no other option but to stare deep into his soul-eating eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t. But then again, that’s what I was there for, hm?” He moves that bit of your hair from your face, wanting to see some more of you. The obscure gleam his eyes get anytime he lays them onto you is a terrifying feeling; not every man you met had enough power to unsettle you. In fact, none, till Albert. Till much before the weird chemistry and the hidden undertones to every aspect of communication between the two of you became unbearable, and you started falling for his disgraceful tongue, the desirable words he’d use against you. You started delivering yourself even further. If someone asked you when did it come down to becoming his personal object of pleasure - his slut, as he’d say himself, you wouldn’t know how to answer. The truth is, this has been happening for too much time now.

You get apprehensive, yet excited - he’s right. He wouldn’t leave you behind, he’d be right there when you needed him. You’re not that foolish - you know his goals are the highest peak of his life, but you definitely made your way to the top tier of his prized possessions, and you know that because it is for you he looks when he’s in need; it is for you he calls. Is that a good thing?

“Hm… you were keeping track of me all of the time? It didn’t look much like.” You ask, your eyes never really leaving his as they burn you in the gratitude facade he keeps whenever talking to you. You look suspicious for a moment, almost like you don’t believe him, like you accuse him of putting you through this risk. This man is a monster; you fell for those pretty lies he tells you; he plays you like a game, and you for one is having too much fun to let go.

“Oh, but I always am.” His thumb brushes your plump lips lightly, you feel fire spreading up across your thighs, a fluttering feeling brushing the walls inside you; your heartbeat speeds up ever so slightly, fact that doesn’t come unnoticed by his superhuman senses, almost like he can hear it - ba-dum, ba-dum. He smiles, a wicked grin, his laugh came out as a little nasal sigh. “Is this defiance I’m sensing right now? Are you mad at me?”

His demeanor is calm, calculated as it usually is; it doesn’t make you any less apprehensive now. Your heart beats faster. You regret doubting him.

“I’d never. You know so.” You refute, as quickly as you can. Your hand calmly reaches for his wrist, trying to ease the pressure he’s applying onto your cheeks right now; he doesn’t.

"Then give me a kiss." he purrs, his voice filled with an unsettling cruel sense of amusement from the fear he can sense from you; not too much, not enough to make you run away from him, just enough to remind you of your place here.

Your body leans towards his tall figure, you're devoid of self-preservation when it comes to him; your hand on his wrist seems to anticipate what comes next, when before you can even reach for his lips, his grip around your neck worsens and the air starts to feel thin around you; he doesn’t choke you enough to make you faint, he likes seeing you struggle, and there you are: this pathetic little thing struggling to find some air through his big slender hand, when he didn’t even bother taking off his gloves to touch you skin to skin.

“Where is my kiss, bunny?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing in a psychopathic face of false pity. You struggle to talk, why do you like this? You feel adrenaline rushing through your veins, the need of winning or at least passing through this game of power he forces you through. “You can’t speak? Pathetic little whore, let me give you some help then.”

In a sudden and calculated motion, he roughly picks you up by your neck and slams your body against the big dinner table. A cracking sound echoes through the room as his wine glass shatters on the ground, and the chairs move around by his motion. You gag as you desperately look for some air till relief washes over you when he finally loosen up enough so you can pull oxygen in again. You don’t allow a single tear to form in your eyes, no, not yet.

“Now now, I don’t like it when you defy me like this, bunny, just when I complimented your complacency?” He speaks out again while you still try to recompose, slight red handprints appearing across your neck; his red eyes wander over it with a sense of pride, his smile fades like it never existed. He’s sternly piercing at you now, an expression that makes it very clear he pities your struggle.

“It wasn’t my intention, Wesker-” You cough, your gaze following his; your eyes seem to be looking for his although he avoids them for your own torture. Wesker lays his forehead against your shoulder, his free hand lifts the hem of your shirt only enough so he can brush the bare skin of your waist. You thrill, intensely. A weird feeling starts taking over your stomach. “I really thought I’d die in that place.” You admit in a whisper, your voice comes out as a breath that hits hot against his neck skin. As your cheek brushes through his sharp jaw extension, his smell invades your nostrils - male cologne, expensive.

“You’re suggesting then it was too much for you to handle?” He asks in a whisper against your ear, and you almost let out a warm, low groan in a response.

“No. I can handle it, I can take everything. That’s not- I guess I just-” You interrupt

yourself; his body is way too close to yours, he towers over you, you’re sitting over the edge of that table now with your legs around his waist - you feel something sparkling inside of your belly once again; your core throbs to the simple thought of his proximity to you, his cocks proximity to you. It’s so close, barely there, only a piece of fabric. Your entire body starts feeling weirdly hot, warm, burning desire consuming you as his hand starts pulling you closer, getting rid of any space between the two of you. You can barely breathe right now, What’s with me now? What the fuck…

“You just what, bunny, babbles, rubbish, foolish things, shut up. Talk straight to me.” He orders, and you can sense from his voice tone that he has a devious smile on his face now. Wesker squeezes your waist tight against him, his fingers now digging onto your skin, his lips brushing against your collarbone and you can’t hold the air in your lungs becoming tight in your throat; you let out a needy sigh, a whimper; please undress me. Please, undress me, fuck me, I’m burning up, I can’t take this, please.

It was at the moment your mind cracked you finally perceived that although you’d tremble just at the thought of Wesker’s cock pushing hard onto your tight walls, that was not a normal reaction of your body. Not by far.

“What did you do to me- ahn.” You ask, your face flushing red, your entire body seems to be out of your control, you’re sweating and catching your breath. He laughs at your weakness.

His hands start rubbing up your legs, your exposed thighs, grabs tight onto them - his fingers digging like he feels like hurting you today. You moan, incapable of holding your own reactions out; he smirks, raising up your skirt to your waist in a slow, precise motion. Haven’t come to your realization so far, that you’re not wearing panties.

You can’t be angry at him. You can’t possibly concentrate on anything else but the wave of pleasure you feel at any slight move of his. Wesker pulls his hands back.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Brushing this needy little cunt of yours against me, you’re wetting my pants, slut.” He reprehends you, standing straight, not moving a muscle now. You look up at him, your eyes shining with need and your mouth watering in, your pussy aching for the touch he denies when he takes his hands off of you.

“Please.” You beg, realizing your hips are pushing against the hardened shape in the bulge of his social pants, staining it with your slick; he barely moves against you, his eyes locked onto your exposed throbbing cunt.

“You don’t deserve it.” He growls, before his hand palms your navel and starts brushing up your skin to your stomach. Wesker raises the hem of your shirt up enough so he exposes your breasts now and takes a handful of one; without a warning, his grip tightens and you feel your drugged sensitive body squirm in pain, projecting upwards, and your cunt throbs once again as you babble incoherently. “Is my little bunny in heat now?” He whispers against your ear as he bends down to you.

Thinking you can’t endure another second of this torture, your own hand trails down a path down your belly, and your fingers spread your folds - your middle finger parting them, rubbing at your own knob trying to give yourself some sort of release. He notices what you’re doing by the mewl you let out.

“Disgusting shameless slut…”

His hand grabs yours, stopping you from that momentary relieving pleasure. You whine once again, the heat you feel almost making you come to that very slight touch of his hand against your clit when he holds you.

“I’m begging.” You pathetically whimper with teary eyes, aching for some more of his touch and as you do, you feel through his pants a throbbing spasm of his stiff cock. His hips push against you willingly this time in a lustful motion and he grunts, expliciting his arousal for seeing you cry. Psychopathic monster. You love that about him. “Wesker, please fuck me. i don’t need anything else just, I- oh-”

“Shh.” He whispers, and his hand reaches up covering your mouth by grabbing on your cheeks, sushing you, and pushing you sitting up once again. As he does pull back from you, he sits back at the chair you were sitting before, and manspreads; the abrupt motion makes you fall on your knees in between his legs, and he leaves your face. “Earn it.”

You didn’t need a second to start desperately unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants and setting free his long, throbbing length; it swings up and slaps against his navel, craving for you as you take it all in your small hands and start pumping it.

Wesker’s obscure crimson eyes watch over you as you struggle to fit his shaft in your mouth, a sloppy mess of saliva decorating the corners of your lips - soon enough, you find your way through. You moan against his skin with your mouth full, in slow, delicious movements like you’re having dinner.

He drops his head back, low and deep pleasure moans coming out of his mouth in a hum, almost like he refuses to give you intense reactions; he slaps you in the face, one, two, three times till you’re a mess with strands of your hair glued to your face.

“Oh- that’s right… Swallow me, fuck- stop, hmm- stop.” He groans, before grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you back with contained brutality. “Open up.” He orders, and you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to him; he gathers some saliva in his mouth and spits it against your tongue, to which you willingly swallow. “Whose slut are you?”

“Yours.” You answer quickly enough, and he smirks, straightening up and tapping his lap.

“Show me then.” He commands, and you finally and desperately hop on his lap, both thighs around him, your hands looking for support around his shoulders which he quickly refuses by grabbing them both together by the wrists on your back.

With a move of your own hips and without any kind of tactile support, you guide your entrance onto his cock, your head flying back as you feel the warmth of his tip brushing against your dripping wet folds now; you rub yourself against him a couple times and your legs tremble to the shock of pleasure that quickly ran through your lower belly. Without any patience or restraint left in yourself now, you slide down his hard shaft deep inside your walls until your back meets his thighs.

Your hips start rolling forward against him, his cock stretching your tight walls, a sound echoing through the dining room each time your skin meets his; he pants, squeezing his jaw and tightening his grasp on your wrists.

“Good fucking bitch- ah- so tight-” He groans, one of his hands grabbing painfully onto your waist and guiding you harder each second, his mouth quickly taking over one of your breasts that swing freely in front of him.

You swear you’re losing your own conscience when your movements are hard enough for you to feel his tip hitting hard against your womb, a painful but pleasure soft spot for you; he thrusts against you again, again, and again, your mind goes blank and you let out a painful lustful moan as you bury his cock deep within yourself once more - hitting your edge, that point where you start feeling your insides twitching and your clit quivering in your deep orgasm.

“God- fuck!” You feel your legs weaken from both the pleasure and your effort, and Wesker uses his hips to lift you up only enough so he can pump his cock inside you a few more times, his face flushed red in effort, the veins in his temples showing up as he twitches his stomach muscles and feel his body contracting once he finally and deliciously releases his hot cum inside you, in spaced spurts of his cock.

He lets go of your hands as you collapse over him with your body exhausted and a bit dizzy, possibly by a residual effect of the drug he gave to you. You close your eyes for a moment, nearly fainting against his chest;

Wesker holds you firmly, and slowly pulls out from you, fixing you over his lap trying to keep you steady and you give a little mumble in return, your forehead still a bit sweaty from all the effort and the drug withdrawing from your body, slowly,

“You need to rest, don’t you, bunny?” He asks, standing up and fixing his pants in place as he carries you like a bride around his mansion hallways, his hand slowly rubbing your shoulder in hopes you’ll relax and not experience terrible collateral effects now that the drug one is going away for good. “Let’s see how your body reacts… We need to get you prepared for the experimentation, don’t we?” He asks with a clever smile on his lips.

You can’t catch up with his talking, nor hear what he still has to say to you lastly for your body’s too weak and you’re almost fainting.

He carefully lays you on his own bed and covers your body, fixing the pillow cozily under your head. He observes you for a couple moments, proudly;

“You’ll be my best creation…” He mutters, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Rest well, bunny.”

#albert wesker #wesker #wesker x you #albert wesker x reader #wesker x reader #wesker smut #smut #resident evil fanfiction #albert wesker x you #albert wesker smut #fem reader #female reader

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inkmonster21 · 4 months

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Sing for Me

11. The Missing Songbird

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence.

From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

(Y/n) (l/n) lay frozen in that chamber for centuries. Stuck in a dreamland where everything was perfect. He should’ve left her there. She had peace in a sleep filled with dreams that would never come true.

But he was bored. He wanted a life, and a family, and no one was letting her out on their own accord. So why not him? He already knew everything about her. He could praise her and provide a good life for her here in the Vaults.

Henry, now commonly known as Hank MacLean wanders to Vault 31. Searching row after row of frozen chambers until he came across what he was looking for. Posted up in the seat, blue lips, and frosted lashes (y/n) (l/n) lay undisturbed. He smiles, pressing all the needed codes for her release. He injects her with a syringe. Just a little memory wipe to make the process easier on his part. He transports her to Vault 33, setting her up on the metal examination table and hooking an IV into her arm. All he could do was wait. He wouldn’t be so bored anymore with her around.

I open my eyes but quickly close them again due to the bright white light. I reach out into the air, my body weak. “Help,” I whisper with the little energy I have in my bones. My throat was dry and my lips were numb. My vision comes soon after the feeling in my fingertips. I look down at myself, seeing a blue suit lined with yellow. I choak out a sob, not entirely sure of why I’m sad. I was so confused. I couldn’t remember anything. The overwhelming feeling of fear taking root.

I look around quickly through tear-soaked eyes. I’m lying on a table, an IV drip in my arm. I start to breathe heavily. Was I sick? Did I pass out? Where was everyone? Where was I?

Who am I?

Then I heard it, “You’re alright. Would you like some help sitting up?” A single voice that calmed the nerves. I looked up to see a man. A small, weak man, with a wide friendly smile, “My name, is Hank. Everything is okay. Do you remember where you were before you fainted? Why you were running?” I stare at him in confusion. I shake my head, covering my eyes. “I… I don’t remember anything.” Hank pressed a smile and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well, you’re safe now. I’ll grab a tray of food and some water and be right back. You must be starving.” I feel my anxiety rising as he steps away. The fear of being alone again with unanswered questions claws at my brain. “Wait…” I reach for him, this stranger. “Would you stay? Please?” Hanks's smile spreads over his cheeks, “of course I will.”

Day after day Hank would arrive with breakfast, spending the hours of the day teaching me about the Vaults and how the community functions. It sounded like a dream. “I have your file from the Overseer of 31,” Hank excitedly says as he types away on his Pip-Boy. “So soon? I thought you said it would take them a week.” Hank smiles down at his screen. “It has your name.” A smile grows on my face.

A real name. My name! Something factual I could hold onto in this sea of uncertainty. I grab his arm tugging him close, looking down at the screen. I read the name slowly, the information warming my chest. “Melody Richards.” Hank smiles at me, “I think it’s a beautiful name.”

I sit with a grin, content with being Melody. Content with being someone.

“Everyone will love you, Melody,” Hank reassured me as he walked us down the corridor, arm in arm. Vault 33 had put together an entire function just for me. To welcome me into their community.

Life was good. I felt right at home in Vault 33 with Hank. He took care of me. He made sure I was always happy. It was hard for me to believe sadness was still an emotion I could have. We married soon after, and my days were happy. I was assigned to teaching, which I was surprisingly good at. Maybe I was a teacher in my past life. It had been a year and Hank and I were just so happy. The daily routine is memorized by my brain. Every day just like the last. A predictable happy day. Until one individual day when everything changed.

“Girls, is there something you’d like to say,” I ask politely as a group of 3 girls. The bell has rung, and class is over, but yet they remain in their seats. They giggle as they look at me. I feel myself shrink. Was something on my face?

Becca, a 13-year-old girl with long blonde hair smiles at me. “You look just like Mary from that movie we just saw last night. She’s so pretty.” I tilt my head, “I didn’t know I missed movie night! I wish I had known.” The girls jump in excitement, “We’re about to go watch it again! Do you want to come? We need a chaperone anyway.”

It was only 3:00, I didn’t have to make dinner for another hour or so. I could use a little break. I shrug my shoulders, “Sure, why not? Lead the way, girls.”

They skipped down the hall telling me all I needed to know about the film. “So Mary is a singer and she works for this bad guy who owns the club. Bill, the detective is trying to catch the club owner but falls for the singer in the process. He saves her and then she tells him off! And he chases her in the rain! They are so cute! Ugh! I wish I could meet someone like that.”

We take our seats in the theater, waiting for the picture to roll. The screen lights up, and a nightclub scene appears. The picture drifts to a stage where a stunning young woman walks through the curtain. She begins to sing. Her voice swims through the room beautifully. I watch in amazement as she belts the song. I wish I could sing like that.

A man enters to club and is instantly taken by Mary. She sings to him, reaching out. He trails from table to table until he takes a seat in the very front. She walks down sits on his table and finishes her song. The man smiles at her. It warms my chest to see a new love.

I did look similar, but in no way was I more than a resembling face to the old actress.

At the dock Bill pulls her away from gunfire, shielding her in the street. “You have to go, Mary.” She shakes her head, “I told you. I can handle myself.” He turns to her, cups her cheeks, and brings her in close for a passionate kiss. “I know you can, but if you get hurt. I won’t be able to handle myself.” He stroked her cheek lightly.

In such focus, I don’t think twice about the cold ghostly touch on my own cheek. I watch in a trance as they express their feelings. I run my fingertips over my lips, feeling a light tingling. What a reaction! This film was something else. The two actors sold the roles. They acted just like they really loved each other. The film finished and I was hooked.

The next few days I rented every film and every record by (y/n) (l/n). I danced in the kitchen as I made dinner. Spinning around I place the meal into the oven.

Hank walks in, a confused look present. I giggle and grab his hands. “Dance with me.” I hum lightly to the song as I attempt to get him to join. He doesn’t. Instead, he walks over to the radio and turns the record off. I watch him, and an unfamiliar clench in my chest rises. His eyes bore into mine. “Melody, where did you get that?” His stare is lined with a nervous smile. “The library. They’ve started renting out movies and records now.” He nods as he watches me. I return to cooking dinner silently. I turn my head to look at Hank. He reads the back of the record case with furrowed brows.

The cover stands out. She really was beautiful. Clad in a silky red dress, her hair done nicely, and makeup to perfection. “Some of my students said I look like her.” I smile at the thought of being that stunning. Hank looks at me, no expression on his face. “I don’t see it.” He gathers up the films and records into a pile. “I’m not a big fan of this type of thing. You’re so much better, Melody. I don’t want you to get a complex." Hank exits the vault without another word.

The right thing to do would be to listen to him. he was my husband and the voice of reason in the dynamic. However, I can hear someone. Someone deep down calling out. Begging me to sing those songs. I lay in the bed staring blankly at the wall. Someone won’t let me rest. Someone is clawing at my skin from the inside out begging to escape. I look at Hank. The man I had come to know seemed like a stranger. Such an out-of-character act for him. He loved music, any type.

I feel the haunting pull. Forcing me to get out of bed and slowly creep down the illuminated hall. I wonder, feeling my feet carry their way. I stop at the doors to the theater. The invisible tug pulls me into the room. The only light was upon the stage. A ghostly smile grows on my face as I advance to the stage. I stand on the elevated wooden floor, looking out over the rows of seats.

I can’t explain why or how, but I began to sing. A song I had never known or heard begins rolling out of my mouth. Emotion taking over my body. This lost soul pulling their way to the light.

“I can hear you but I won't

Some look for trouble while others don't

There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day

And ignore your whispers, which I wish would go away”

I see the mist of a figure seated in the middle. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide. He feels so familiar. Something inside myself was wrong. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a singer. I wasn’t a performer.

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear

And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear

Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls

I'm sorry, secret siren but I'm blocking out your calls

I've had my adventure, I don't need something new

I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you”

The figure is closer now, allowing the light to bleed into their frame. He stands from his seat, taking slow steps towards the stage. I fall to my keens awaiting him. It was the only thing that felt right.

“What do you want? 'Cause you've been keeping me awake

Are you here to distract me so I make a big mistake?

Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?”

It’s him. The man from the films. He pulls himself onto the stage, cupping my face in his palms. The warmth of his hands has me believing he’s real. He’s here with me.

“Don't you know there's part of me that longs to go

Into the unknown

Into the unknown”

I cling to him as I sing. His smile couldn’t widen anymore. His eyes dazzling as he watches me. His touch pulled the lost soul to the surface. Pulling her out and tossing Melody inside the cage.

This has been an entire trick. I see my entire past in his orbs. The movie, the secret meetings, the months of sadness, the party, the divorce, the engagement, Barb, and Vault Tech…

I breathe heavily as I finish the song. I stare at my hands I allow a tearful laugh to escape. I'm back... I'm me... The heavy weight of the unknown universe is gone.

It's just Cooper and I. I look up expecting to see him, but I'm alone. "Cooper?" I call out only to be met with my echo. The doors in the back open swiftly. I smile watching his figure walk down the dark path.

"Cooper." I go to run into his arms, but I stop at the sound of the voice, "You just couldn't leave it alone. Could you?" Hank advances the stage, stalking me with his eyes. "Henry." I back away with each step he takes.

"Where is he?" He shrugs, "Probably dead." He extends a hand, "Why don't you just come back with me? We have a good life." I shake my head, my back hitting the lush red curtains. "You tricked me!" Henry tosses his head back with a dark laugh. "I saved YOU!"

He lunged at me, grabbing my frame in his grasp. I scream as I struggle against him. "No!" I kick against him, "I'm not going back!" Tears fall from my eyes, "COOPER!" I ball as I violently thrash against Henry. He pulls out a syringe from his pocket. Shaking his head he holds me down. "I've got an idea on how to make you more... compliant." He stabs the needle into my neck. Second after second, I feel my limbs weaken. I fought to keep my eyes open, but I lost. Falling into my death that was disguised as a restful slumber.

Hank MacLean buzzed around the lab, watching the machine craft such a perfect specimen. “She’s beautiful.” He whispers lowly, in shock, he had never seen such an astonishing creation.

Fastened in a tube lay a newly built machine, recreated from past generations, but was lost, until he reconstructed it… reconstruccted her. He recreated her from the ruins she once was. Sitting in the dark storage unit, rotting away in the grave of all the failed experiments and equipment. Where the past had failed the future will succeed.

The young Hank overlooked the newly finished machine. She was sparkly. Her skin was smooth, her lashes long, her cheeks the color of rose, her lips plump, makeup drew on to perfection. She looked just like she did in the movies.

With one finger he types a single code into the computer system with haste. As the shield opens fog rolls out of the tube, kissing the floor. Her eyes open, knitting her brows together. A calmness washed over her. She steps out of the chamber completely nude. She smiles at the small madman. “Hi there, I’m, Melody. How can I be of assistance, Mr. MacLean?”

She was easier to… control. Hank had an easy life in the vaults, mostly because his synthetic humanoid wife listened to his every command without question She cooked his favorite meals, and cleaned until the home was spic can span. She was the perfect wife. What else could he want?

Short answer? He wanted Rose. One of the newcomers in a trade with Vault 32. He had become obsessed with her. Her beauty was impeccable. Not fake like Melody’s drawn-on liner. She was the sweetest creature he had ever come to know. Rose was made for him. Unlike Melody who Hank crafted to fit his narrative. However, this had to be fate. No one had made his heart beat like Rose. That night as he returned home for dinner. He had a plan. One final act and he would be free to woo Rose. To have and to hold her forever. He just had to get rid of Melody first.

He hauled her mechanical body to the top floor, disposing of her and all of the remaining items. Her belongings, movies, albums, clothes. Anything Hank had hidden away to shield the truth from her. It worked for some time. He wanted more. He had the perfect wife, but he wanted real raw emotions. Yes, she has a real brain and a heart, but it never truly belonged to him. She would forever feel the attachment to the old actor long gone with the land.

He set everything down with a huff. He took one glance at her cold emotionless face before looking down at his wrist to input the codes. The codes to shut her off, to put her to death once and for all.

Just as he brings his finger down to hit the last number, his finger curls around his hand, and forcefully turns it upwards. The synthetic copy of (y/n) holds Hanks's wrist with a bone-crushing grip. She leans in, dark eyes as she bends his wrist to look at the screen.

“You were going to shut me off?” She twitches her head. An internal battle raged in her mind. Two lives battle for dominance, but clash together in a confusing mixture. Hank yelps as he tries to hit the last number, but she is faster. She quickly breaks his other wrist. He screams in agony, glaring at her. “You bitch!” He grits his teeth as he tries to grab ahold of her. She kicks him in the face knocking him out cold.

Get the box and go.

She twitches as she grabs the box in her hands.

Run.

RUN!

The internal voice screams the commands. She swiftly opens the vault door, the sunlight shining in blinding her. She doesn’t look back at the sorry excuse of the man who had created such a machine. She left in search of something unknown.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #fallout #fallout imagine #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fallout #fallout ghoul #walton goggins #the ghoul fallout

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degin00 · 10 months

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I am so excited for Fallout live action series, so might as well draw a tribute. I drew my favorite FO4 gals wearing the Vault 33 suit. (pls forgive curie, she's very shy)

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 cait #fo4 curie #piper wright #fan art

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artia · 4 months

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twosides--samecoin · 5 months

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After watching the fallout tv show, I wish there were an au where Barb was the ghoul instead of Cooper.

She did everything to protect her family, her daughter, and (maybe?) failed. She set the world on fire and had 200+ years to live with the consequences. She knows vault tec intimately, knows the experiments, the secrets, all the ugly parts.

Barb smiling at Lucy's 33 vault suit and conving her to help, because she knows 33's purpose and knows how to use it to her advantage. She knows Lucy was born and bred to be a good little colonizer, and she knows the flaws in Bud's designs.

Just imagine the drama once we got the reveal. Everyone guessing how she became a ghoul if she supposedly had been accepted into a "safe" vault, guessing as to why she joined the hunt for the cold fusion. Loyalty to vault tec? To gain power to herself? Maybe she believes in some faction or another?

The season finale with Lucy following Barb because she is curious (just like her mother) and wants to know more about vault tec and, by extension, her father and, hey, Barb could use a new assistant since Henry--sorry, Hank--is no longer filling the position.

I like Cooper, but damn, I'd love to see how Ghoul!Barb would play out.

Hey gamer, thanks for the ask. Cool idea and you should write it, hit me up if you ever do!

Personally I have so many questions about Barb and her motivations and life before the bombs. She's one a handful of characters who remains a mystery by the end of the first season.

Barb's perspective is worthy of exploration. Her fate is unknown, aside from being on a roundtable of capitalists trying to ensure their survival, with the thin veneer of doing it for humanity (let's be honest, House, Vault-Tec, RobCo, Big MT and West Tek all have a vested interest in their own survival and getting ahead of the game after the war). Sure, she's doing it for her family, but a mention of Janey is also a bargaining chip for her to negotiate. Was she a lawyer before Vault-Tec, or in another career where one is required to form arguments with an awareness of what people respond to?

There's a blurring of lines; mother trying to protect her family, but also political and business savvy. She looked up at someone while seated at the roundtable and adjusted her Pip-Boy, perhaps listening to a radio frequency. What's her position at Vault-Tec, anyway, aside from being an executive? She's speaking on behalf of the people who pull the strings, but where are her hands on that thread? What relationship did she have with Moldaver, if the latter found the selling of her life's work personal enough to insinuate Coop didn't know his wife as well as he thought he did?

What was her life like as a Black woman in the pre-bomb Fallout society? Did Vault-Tec really set off nukes on the day her daughter was at a birthday party with Coop, or were they and Los Angeles caught off guard? What is the fate of their daughter - did she get into "one of the good vaults", or not? What if just Janey and Barb got into a vault together, but not Coop? What if Janey got into a vault, but Barb and Coop are both ghouls, walking the Wasteland? What if Barb is in Vault 31, or in a pod next to Mr. House?

#thanks for the ask!#fallout show #barb howard #cooper howard #fallout #fallout meta

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thebisexualdogdad · 1 month

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Living in vault 33 as a wastelander - Lucy MacLean x GN!reader

● after the events of season 1 Lucy brought you back to vault 33 to live with her and help rebuild her home

● you got a taste of what it was like to live in a vault when you were at vault 4 but you still had so much left to learn

● the first time you meet Norm he's pretty standoffish

● after everything that happened he doesn't know who to trust anymore and he really doesn't like an outsider being in the vault

● but if Lucy trusts you he will eventually trust you too he just needs time to warm up to you

● you've never slept as well as you have in the vault

● back home you had a shitty old mattress on the floor that had springs popping out of it

● but now you have a pillow and a blanket and best of all you get to sleep next Lucy to every night

● the one complaint you have is wearing the vault tec suit

● “how do you guys wear this everyday it's so restricting”

● “but you look so cute in it”

● “you think so? Wait don't distract me from how uncomfortable this is, can't I go back to wearing my old clothes”

● “your old clothes were filthy and had holes in it and blood stains”

● “you guys have those fancy washing machine things I'm sure they can get the blood out”

● Lucy shows you so much new food and teaches you how to cook

● out in the wasteland you ate whatever you could find but here you actually have options

● and fresh vegetables which you didn't even know vegetables could be fresh and not from a can

● the first time she shows you how to use the oven you touch the hot pan and yell out in pain

● “Y/N baby you need to use the mit whenever you take something out of the oven,” she tells you as she's tending to your burnt hand

● getting to shower regularly is also a game changer

● everybody in the vault smells so nice all the time

● and everything is kept so clean there's no bugs or rats or anything

● Lucy shows you all her favorite movies

● and you listen to her favorite vinyl records

● the first time you tell Lucy you love her is when you're dancing together in your unit

● you spin her around before taking her in your arms and it just slips out, “I love you”

● “I love you too Y/N,” she smiles back at you

● it takes you a while to get used to doing your rotating job duties

● you were a part of a community now, you weren't only looking out for yourself and since half of the vaults residents had been killed in the raid you all had to step up and cover double the amount of jobs to maintain everything

● but then you got to watch Lucy in a tank top working on heavy machinery and maybe having to do this kind of stuff wasn't actually so bad

● you and Lucy have made out all over the vault

● she'll pull you into a storage closet or an empty corridor unable to keep her hands off of you

● usually you get away with it but occasionally someone will interrupt you

● Norm once found you in a closet with your hand in Lucy's suit as he was looking for cleaning supplies

● he slapped his hand over his eyes and reached around for the disinfectant and left without saying anything

● “Uh should we go back to our unit to finish this?”

● “nope,” is all Lucy says and pulls you back in to kiss her

● one day you see someone carrying a cake lit with candles and you ask Lucy what's going on

● “oh it's Matthew's birthday”

● “what's a birthday?”

● “you've never celebrated your birthday before?!?”

● a week later she decorates your unit with balloons and whatever other party supplies she could find and makes you your very first birthday cake

● “what is all this?”

● “well we don't know when your actual birthday is so I'm declaring today your birthday! I made you a cake you need to make a wish when you blow out the candles”

● “I'm not living in the wasteland anymore and I have an incredible girlfriend what more could I wish for?”

#fallout imagine #lucy maclean imagine #lucy maclean x reader #x gender neutral reader #headcanons

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somethingaboutvampires · 5 months

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Things about Fallout that I can't stop thinking about:

Alimony is brought up meaning Cooper divorced his wife after learning she suggested dropping the bomb. The bombs were dropped while his daughter was with him so either she knew and didn't care that her daughter would maybe die or was surprised by that timeline and panicked. Coop demands to know where his family is, so assuming he brings his daughter to safety / his exwife / a vault successfully then he and his dog aren't allowed in? And he's been searching for them for 200 years so he doesn't know which vault they were taken to but assumes they're still alive.

When Lucy is at vault 4, they were surprised that she was from a vault when she's clearly in that jumpsuit with those 33 pins on her collar. Like, there's one uniform. Wtf? And they gave Maximus an opportunity for a hot shower but didn't offer to wash Lucy's uniform? She didn't wash the blood off her uniform while there.

They clearly don't have doctors or teach medical skills in vaults 31,32,33 because when crazypants goes into labor she's just doing strangely. (Edit: there seems to be one person with a dr like feel and is there when she's in labor but, ya know, zero obgyns or major medical in a vault meant to propagate human kind is shocking but also typical).

How did vault 33 not know vault 32 was dead for two years? If the overseers did, then the wedding makes zero sense, the overseer would know those couldn't be from 32. If 31 brain roomba knew for two years that there was no communication from vault 32 why did that sit right with him?

Betty, new 33 overseer says she helped McLean bury his wife and i think that means she helped him bomb Shady Sands.

No one talks about how a (edited, thanks for the correction) fusion core can power an entire town but only one BOS suit. Like the gross misuse of resources for the army, now for the Technology Cult. If they dismembered the BOS suits, they could already have more equality of power generation but no one on the show brings that up? It's not cold fusion but it's definitely something.

So typical that the BOS suits had a major flaw that killed thousands of soldiers and they never fixed the flaw.

Anyone at all wanting to mention how Lucy wanted to blow up Moldaver and everyone in that area out of vengeance, but didn't. When that's exactly what her dad did to an entire town, so that blood lust and anger and irresponsible bombing is exactly what's learned in her do-good teachings. Her naivety is stark and blowing up everyone as a symbol is exactly that.

It's strange to me that the actor of Lucy stated that viewers see her character as the hero of the show, when I just see her as a pompous naive entitled person who doesn't listen to many people, thinks she's always right, and if she did take other people's advice about a land and people she's never met and had an ounce of humility, then half of the bad experiences wouldn't have happened to her. I see no hero in this show.

I see the "average viewer" as Coop/the ghoul and that's why so many people like him best.

#fallout #fallout spoilers #fallout amazon #these are just my thoughts so if you feel argumentative then okay but don't expect a response

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aghostbride · 7 months

Text

Greetings!! Just posting a fanfic I wrote for my homework :33 (Yes, it is Lennabel) this is also posted on ao3 and wattpad!

——————————–-`♡´-–——————————

A Clandestine Night

In the heart of town, a wealthy man threw a lavish ball, inviting only his closest friends. The event hums with excitement as guests anticipate a night of luxury and camaraderie.

Annabel Lee Whitlock, an undercover spy seeking the rich man's wealth, disguised as one of the man's guests. As for her disguise, she posed as Arabella Delphine, one of the plush man's trusted friends. For her plan to work out, she must not be seen by the host otherwise she would be caught with no way out.

To fit in with the guests, she wore a Midnight Blue bust down strapless evening dress with a black shawl around her upper arms, she had black long satin gloves.

There she arrived at the party right on time, the greeter at the entrance checked her name on the guest list. She was let in effortlessly, she smiled at this—this was gonna be easier than she thought. She walked among the crowds, the giggles and laugh of the other guests rang in her ears yet this didn't distract her, she continued on with her mission of finding the host’s vault.

She was wandering around trying to find a way to sneak into the vault when suddenly she stumbled upon a… woman with a suit? “How unusual…” she dusted off her dress, staring into the woman right in front of her.

“Greetings, I apologize for bumping into you.” she hurriedly spoke, worried.

“It's fine, really. What's your name dear?” Annabel smiled, tucking a strand of her curled hair behind her ear.

“My name's Lenore, Lenore Vandernacht. Pleasure to meet you.” Lenore smiled back, kissing the back of Annabel's hand.

She introduced herself. “I'm Arabella Delphine.” She continued on her disguise, not letting that kiss on the hand expose her.

“Ah! You're one of the host’s friends, yes?”

“Indeed, are you not one of his friends?”

“... I am, yes! I just thought you were one of the staff.”

“A staff?.. wearing a dress?”

"Oh! Well, can the staff not wear formal dress wear in a party as well?” Lenore smiled innocently, a hint of an annoyed tone hidden behind her voice.

Annabel glared “Hm, I suppose.” She uttered in defeat.

The two stood there awkwardly, waiting for the other to speak. It was only a few seconds but time seemed to drag on endlessly, Annabel just wanted to leave and continue to her mission but the other woman spoke.

“What brings you to the party?”

“Well I was invited, of course I would attend it. I never miss a party.”

“Ah, a partygoer. What's your work?”

“Oh, my dad owns a company. It's called ‘AD’ he's planning to make me CEO.”

“I've heard of that company before, are you the daughter of Ambrose Delphine?”

“Indeed, I must leave. I'm meeting up with a friend.”

“I understand, apologies for disturbing you.”

“It's quite alright, it was a pleasure talking to you. Ta-ta!” With that, Annabel quickly left.

Lenore, with a gleam of mischief dancing in her eyes and a playful smirk curling her lips, watched intently, her gaze fixed upon the target. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she transmitted her observation through the concealed earpiece, her voice laced with amusement as she confirmed, "Yeah, I got her in sight.”

At the same time, Annabel finally found the vault. Thoughts of getting richer crossed her mind, but she reminded herself to focus on the task at hand. There she twisted the lock instantly opening it, she smiled at the sight of glowing gold before her. Before stepping in, she stopped. She thought for a moment, “This is way too easy,” a hint of suspicion lingered in her voice, she continued “There must be a catch.” she observed inside the vault, trying to find anything unusual or suspicious. When she found none, she took a deep breath before stepping in. No alarms were set up, she let out a sigh of relief. She took out a bag and started with the money first.

After that, she moved on to the gold but she was stopped. She heard a familiar voice behind her speak, her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Well, well, well.. Hello ‘Arabella’.”

Annabel turned around facing the woman she talked to earlier, Lenore. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was worried that you wouldn't find your way to your little friend.” Lenore spoke sarcastically. “Tch, I knew you were aiming for the vault. I knew you from the start Annabel Lee Whitlock.”

A drop of sweat fell from Annabel's face as she glared at the woman in front of her. She could feel the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. “What do you want, Lenore?”

Lenore just smirked playfully, walking closer to the Spy. She whispered in her ear, “Put those back Annabel Lee.”

Therefore Annabel lunged at Lenore, pinning her to the ground. Afterwards Lenore punched her in the face, leaving a bruise. Annabel groaned and stood up, a death glare could be seen. Lenore pinned her against the wall, leaving almost no space between them.

Annabel kicked her in the stomach and ran with money and some gold in her bag. Lenore stumbled and fell on the floor, landing on her butt. She quickly stood up and ran after Annabel, but it was too late, Annabel was already near the exit and Lenore would never reach her. However she kept running after her.

Annabel took off her heels and ran even faster. She got into her getaway car, and the driver drove off, leaving Lenore behind. She stood there, fuming that she hadn't caught the criminal. With a sigh, she informed her boss that she hadn't succeeded in apprehending the criminal. With that, she returned to the party.

During that time, Annabel began to breathe heavily once she got in the car. Exhausted from the running, she glanced at the driver, who wore a puzzled expression.

“Prospero, I- *pant* I didn't get all of it. But I got some!”

Prospero, the driver spoke with a satisfied tone. “Well done, Annabel.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Btw this is what Annabel was wearing :3 (CREDITS TO @/rednflynn ON TWT OFC!!!! :DDD)

≽^•⩊•^≼

#nevermore #nevermore webtoon #fanfic #writing #writers on tumblr #lenore nevermore #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee nevermore #annabel lee x lenore #lennabel #OH MY GOD THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG #1K WORDS?? AM I INSANE??????#I loved writing this either way #I THINK I DID GOOD

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