Idk

Enchanted Shadows: A Witch's Dance

Kai Parker x Reader

No pronouns used

summary: In the mystical realm of Mystic Falls, you, a young witch, find yourself entangled in the darkness of the supernatural world. Your heart heavy with its weight, you stumble upon one of the most feared and fascinating figures in the supernatural community—Kai Parker. With a reputation that sends shivers down the bravest spines, Kai's twisted humor and unpredictable nature draw you in despite the warnings. An unexpected encounter in your herb garden sparks a connection that defies the boundaries of your world. As you navigate the intricacies of Kai's troubled past and the allure of his enigmatic charisma, you're faced with a choice: stay away from the danger he embodies or risk everything for a love that seems impossible in a world where darkness reigns. 'Enchanted Shadows: A Witch's Dance' weaves a tale of forbidden attraction, empathy, and a love that flourishes amidst the supernatural shadows.

Enchanted Shadows: A Witch's Dance

The Mystic Falls night was shrouded in darkness, and you found yourself wandering through the abandoned streets, your heart heavy with the weight of the supernatural world you had become a part of. As a young witch, you had always been warned about the dangers lurking in the shadows, and it seemed that fate had led you to one of the most dangerous of them all: Kai Parker.

Kai had a reputation that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest vampires and witches. His twisted sense of humor and unpredictable nature made him both feared and fascinating. It was said that he had no regard for anyone's well-being but his own, yet there was an undeniable charisma about him that drew you in.

One fateful night, while you were tending to the herbs in your garden, you felt a presence behind you, a subtle but unmistakable shift in the air. Before you could react, a voice whispered in your ear, "You're quite skilled with those herbs."

Startled, you turned to find Kai standing there, his blue eyes sparkling with an inexplicable curiosity.

"You... you shouldn't sneak up on people like that," you stammered, trying to maintain your composure.

Kai chuckled, a sound that sent a strange warmth through you despite your better judgment. "I tend to do a lot of things I shouldn't."

Over time, you found yourself drawn into Kai's orbit, despite the warnings of your friends and the nagging feeling in your gut that told you to stay away. He was an enigma, a puzzle you couldn't resist trying to solve.

As the days turned into weeks, you discovered that there was more to Kai than met the eye. He had his demons, his past filled with pain and isolation. You couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy for him, a desire to understand the darkness that consumed him.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars filled the sky, you found yourself standing with Kai in the same garden where you had first met. His hand brushed against yours, a touch so gentle it surprised you.

"You're not like other witches," he mused, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "And you're not like other vampires."

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

You reached up, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, feeling the coolness of his skin. "I haven't decided yet."

In that moment, the world faded away, leaving only you and Kai in a fragile bubble of connection. It was a connection forged in defiance of the darkness that surrounded you both, a connection that held the promise of redemption and love in a world where such things seemed impossible.

As you leaned in, closing the gap between you, you knew that the path you were treading was dangerous, but it was a risk you were willing to take—for Kai Parker had become more than just a dangerous enigma; he had become the missing piece in your own complicated puzzle.

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i love this one so much ;-;. i hope you like it just as much, if not more!

Angelic Apologies

i finally wrote for Cas!!!! i love this man so much 🤣😭

Castiel Novak x Reader

No pronouns used

Summary: When a routine day in the bunker takes an unexpected turn, the reader accidentally punches Castiel in the face. Filled with guilt, apologies pour forth, only to be silenced by a surprising and passionate kiss from the celestial being. As the reader hesitates and pulls away, Castiel delivers a romantic yet slightly creepy declaration, showcasing his unique understanding of human interactions.

Angelic Apologies

In the dimly lit library of the bunker, you sat engrossed in a dusty tome, the weight of ancient knowledge pressing against your temples. The room was filled with a hushed quiet, the only sound being the faint rustle of pages and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Little did you know, an unexpected visitor was about to disrupt your solitude.

Out of nowhere, a fluttering of wings announced Castiel's arrival. The air displaced, and with a soft whoosh, he stood behind you, his trench coat brushing against the floor. Unbeknownst to you, his piercing blue eyes studied the words on the pages before him. In the eerie silence, you sensed a presence and, acting purely on instinct, you whirled around and threw a punch.

Cas barely had time to register the surprise on his face before your fist connected with his nose. His head snapped back, and a low groan escaped his lips. "What the hell?" you exclaimed, only to realize that the celestial being you had just cold-cocked was none other than Castiel.

Panicking, you reached out to him, stammering an apology. "Cas, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to punch you. I thought you were… someone else?"

Cas straightened, holding his nose gingerly. "It's fine, [Y/N]. I understand that you were taken aback."

Your remorseful babbling continued, the words tumbling out like a waterfall of apologies. Cas, growing increasingly impatient, raised a hand to silence you. "Enough, [Y/N]. It's fine, really."

But you couldn't stop. "No, Cas, seriously, I feel awful. I can't believe I—"

In an unexpected turn of events, Cas cut you off, closing the distance between you and capturing your lips with his own. The suddenness of it left you breathless, and you could feel the warmth of his kiss melting away your worries. The apology lodged on your tongue was forgotten as the kiss deepened, your hands instinctively finding their way to Cas's coat.

When the kiss finally broke, you were left gasping for air, your eyes meeting Cas's intense gaze. His voice, calm but laced with a hint of something unfamiliar, spoke words that sent shivers down your spine. "You don't need to apologize, [Y/N]. In fact, I find your instincts rather endearing."

You blinked, the romantic sentiment juxtaposed with Cas's typical lack of understanding of human nuances. "Cas, that's… kind of creepy."

A small, bemused smile tugged at the corners of Cas's lips. "Is it? I've been observing human behavior, and I thought it might be an appropriate response."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Cas, you're a strange one."

His eyes softened as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Perhaps, but I am learning. And I believe that in this moment, my actions speak louder than words."

You couldn't help but smile, realizing that even an angel could be surprisingly charming in his own peculiar way.

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AHHHHH i'm so happy i finally wrote fro Cas lmaooo i just love him so much

Supernatural Masterlist

Dean Winchester

Heartbeat Symphony:

Summary: After a long day on the road, the couple finds solace in the comfort of the Impala. The story explores the quiet moments between hunts, emphasizing the deep connection and love they share. Back at the bunker, they unwind together, appreciating the simplicity of being a team both in and out of the field. The narrative highlights the strength of their bond and the sense of home they find in each other's company.

A Messy Christmas Surprise:

Summary: Dean and the reader are baking Christmas treats at the bunker while Sam is on a hunt. Amidst the festive chaos, Dean cracks an egg on the reader's head, leading to a playful flour fight. Dean then picks the reader up over his shoulder, and they share a laughter-filled moment. Sam returns, finding the kitchen in disarray, and discovers Dean and the reader surrounded by flour and baking ingredients. The messy holiday surprise becomes a memorable Christmas memory for the Winchester trio.

Sam Winchester

Christmas Tides:

Summary: Sam Winchester surprises the reader with a heartfelt gift and invites them to share a quiet and cozy night together away from hunting. The two exchange stories, laughter, and meaningful glances. As snow falls outside, they find a moment of respite and connection, sealed with a sweet kiss under the mistletoe.

Reluctant Guardian:

Summary: After Sam gets injured on a hunt alone, Castiel sends a trustworthy angel to heal him. There's a catch though, the reader and Sam seem to butt heads all the time

Castiel Novak

Angelic Apologies:

Summary: When a routine day in the bunker takes an unexpected turn, the reader accidentally punches Castiel in the face. Filled with guilt, apologies pour forth, only to be silenced by a surprising and passionate kiss from the celestial being. As the reader hesitates and pulls away, Castiel delivers a romantic yet slightly creepy declaration, showcasing his unique understanding of human interactions.

Heavenly Christmas:

Summary: Castiel experiences Christmas traditions for the first time with the Winchester brothers and the reader. As they decorate the tree and exchange gifts, Castiel learns about the holiday spirit. The story culminates in a magical moment under the mistletoe, where Castiel and the reader share a sweet kiss, making it a Christmas to remember for everyone involved.

Rowena MacLeod

Enchanting Christmas:

Summary: Rowena, the enchanting witch, confesses to the reader that the holiday season has awakened new emotions within her. The two share a magical moment, culminating in a kiss that transcends the ordinary. As they celebrate the festive season together, they discover the unexpected joy of love in the midst of holiday magic.

Jack Kline

Mistletoe Moments:

Summary: As the holiday season wraps its magic around the bunker, Jack Kline finds himself intrigued by the mysterious allure of mistletoe. Little does he know that this Christmas will bring about more than just festive decorations.

A Wolverine's Heartache - Part II

Part I Part II

Logan/James Howlett x Reader

She/Her Pronouns

Summary: The Sentinel battle takes a turn for the worst causing Logan to lose someone dear to him.

Before the Sentinels descended upon them, there had been a quiet undercurrent of tension between Logan and Y/N, an unspoken dynamic that lingered beneath the surface of their friendship. The Xavier Institute, a haven for mutants, had become a place where emotions and connections were heightened, but not always openly acknowledged.

Logan and Y/N had shared moments of camaraderie, their friendship deepening over time. Yet, a subtle dance of longing and hesitation played out between them, unnoticed by others but felt in the quiet glances and stolen smiles. Each held a key to the other's heart, but the lock remained unturned.

In the tranquil moments before the storm, Y/N often found herself stealing glances at Logan, a flutter of uncertainty in her chest. She admired his strength, both physical and emotional, and valued the camaraderie they shared. Yet, there was an unspoken desire for something more, a connection that hovered in the uncharted territory between friendship and something deeper.

Logan, too, grappled with his own conflicting emotions. He had always been a lone wolf, accustomed to the solitude of his own thoughts. However, Y/N's presence had become a soothing balm to his restless soul. There were times when he caught himself staring at her, a vulnerability in his gaze that betrayed the unspoken depths of his feelings.

Their interactions were laced with a delicate balance, a dance around unexplored territories. A brush of hands during training, a shared moment of laughter by the fireplace – each encounter left an indelible mark on their hearts, pushing them closer to a truth neither was ready to confront.

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The battle with the Sentinels unfolded in a crescendo of chaos and destruction. The ominous hum of their massive metal bodies echoed through the war-torn landscape as the mutants of the Xavier Institute rallied to fend off the relentless onslaught.

The sky crackled with energy as Storm unleashed her powers, attempting to create a barrier against the relentless advance of the towering machines. Colossus, his metallic form glinting in the harsh light, clashed with the Sentinels in a display of brute strength. Cyclops fired optic blasts with precision, desperately trying to hold the line.

Amidst the chaos, Logan moved like a feral blur, his adamantium claws slicing through the mechanical monstrosities with unmatched ferocity. The air was filled with the acrid scent of burning metal and the distant cries of mutants in peril.

Y/N fought valiantly alongside the team, her powers contributing to the defense, but the fear of being overshadowed by the more powerful mutants gnawed at her. In the midst of the mayhem, she kept glancing towards Logan, seeking reassurance, but his attention was consumed by the battle.

As the Sentinels closed in, a momentary distraction led to a tragic turn of events. Y/N found herself isolated for a brief second, and in that moment of vulnerability, a Sentinel seized the opportunity. A deafening scream pierced the air as Y/N was ensnared in its metallic grip.

Logan, several yards away, sensed the danger too late. His instincts kicked in, and he sprinted towards Y/N with an urgency that defied the chaos around him. With a primal roar, he lunged at the Sentinel, claws slashing through its armored exterior. The metallic giant released its grip, but the damage was done.

Time seemed to slow as Y/N crumpled to the ground, Logan catching her in his arms. The battle raged on, but in that harrowing moment, everything faded into the background. Logan's heart pounded as he held Y/N, the world collapsing around them as her life slipped away.

Logan's world shattered as he held Y/N's lifeless form in his arms. Time seemed to freeze, and the chaos of the battle faded into a distant murmur. The weight of grief pressed down on him like an unrelenting force, threatening to consume him whole.

In that agonizing moment, Logan's senses, normally keen and alert, dulled to the outside world. The smell of burning metal, the distant clashes of mutant powers, and the acrid taste of despair in the air became distant echoes. All that remained was the profound silence that accompanied Y/N's departure from the living.

Logan's heart, usually a steady rhythm amidst the storm, now pounded with a raw, aching intensity. His hands trembled as he cradled Y/N's lifeless body, unable to comprehend the reality of her absence. The world around him blurred, and tears – a rare expression of vulnerability – welled up in his eyes.

Regret and guilt gnawed at Logan's soul. If only he had been quicker, more vigilant. If only he had protected her better. The weight of responsibility bore down on him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed the one person who had silently meant more to him than he had ever admitted.

A guttural, primal scream tore from Logan's throat, reverberating through the battlefield. It was a scream of anguish, of a grief so profound that it echoed the depths of his soul. In that moment, the Wolverine, known for his stoic demeanor and unyielding strength, crumbled under the weight of loss.

As Logan clung to Y/N's lifeless body, the reality of her absence sank in, leaving him stranded in a sea of sorrow. The battlefield continued to rage around him, but in his world, everything had come to a standstill. The connection he had shared with Y/N, the unspoken bond that had grown between them, was now a painful void that threatened to engulf him entirely.

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ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! this made my heart break :,( i just wanna give him a real big hug now

i love this song so much

HELP

Please give me requests, i don’t know what to write about! HELP

The Bed Argument - Part II

Part I Part III

i recommend reading part 1 first but this can be read as a stand alone!

Stephen Strange x Reader

they/them pronouns used

Summary: Stephen and the reader wake up in a compromising position with Stephen's arm draped over Y/N. After Stephen apologizes profusely, Y/N becomes fed up with his constant apologies and decides to take matters into their own hands. They share an unexpected and sweet kiss that marks a shift in their relationship.

The Bed Argument - Part II

The soft Irish morning light filtered into the room, casting a warm glow on the two occupants of the bed. Y/N stirred from their slumber, slowly becoming aware of an unexpected weight on their waist. Their eyes fluttered open, and they realized that Stephen's arm was draped over them. It was a rather intimate position, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of flustered confusion.

Just as they were contemplating how to extricate themselves from the situation without waking Stephen, he started to stir. His eyes opened, and upon realizing the compromising position, he hastily pulled his arm back.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Stephen began to apologize profusely. "I didn't mean to—"

Frustration welled up in Y/N, not from the awkward situation, but from Stephen's incessant apologies. They turned to face him, their gaze softening. "Stephen, it's okay. You don't have to apologize for everything."

Stephen blinked in surprise at Y/N's response, still flustered but relieved that they weren't angry.

Feeling an inexplicable rush of emotions, Y/N leaned in closer, their lips brushing against Stephen's in a gentle, sweet kiss. It was a moment of pure impulse, their feelings suddenly taking over. The world seemed to fade away as they kissed, and for the first time, their interactions were marked by something other than argument and frustration.

When they finally pulled away, Stephen was left slightly breathless. His usual composed demeanor had been thoroughly shattered. "I… I didn't expect that."

Y/N smiled, a hint of playfulness in their eyes. "Neither did I, but maybe it's time we stopped fighting and gave this a chance."

The tension that had been a constant between them seemed to melt away as they lay there, side by side. The mission had brought them to this unexpected point, but perhaps it was also the beginning of something new, a connection they hadn't anticipated.

As they cuddled closer to each other, wrapped in the warmth of the shared bed, the atmosphere in the room transformed from one of conflict to one of quiet intimacy. It was a moment of unspoken understanding, where words were no longer necessary to bridge the gap between them.

They began to talk softly, opening up to each other in a way they hadn't before. Stephen spoke about the pressures of his responsibilities as the Sorcerer Supreme, and Y/N shared stories from their past that had shaped their strong-willed nature. Their defenses were down, and they discovered a surprising common ground in their shared sense of duty and the need to protect the world from supernatural threats.

Hours passed in the comfortable embrace, and before they knew it, their conversation had transitioned into the early hours of the morning. It was a deep and honest exchange, one that forged a connection stronger than the tension that had characterized their interactions before.

As dawn broke and the first rays of the sun painted the room in a soft, golden light, Stephen and Y/N exchanged one more tender kiss. It was a promise of new beginnings, and the recognition that the friction between them had merely been a prelude to a deeper, more profound connection.

They may have been an unlikely pair, but the night had shown them that sometimes, in the most unexpected of circumstances, something beautiful can emerge from the chaos.

Person of Interest Masterlist

John Reese

Healing Hearts Under Fire:

During a dangerous mission, John Reese gets shot in the arm, and Y/N's concern for his safety turns into frustration. Y/N passionately lectures John about the risks he takes and the importance of their team's well-being. To reassure Y/N, John gently holds their face in his hands, which leads to a charged moment of vulnerability between them.

Shy Hearts Entwined:

In the bustling city, John Reese and Y/N are on an undercover mission, posing as a couple at a high-profile event to gather information on a criminal operation. Y/N's shyness around John is noticeable, despite their usual confidence. As the night progresses, their connection grows, and amidst the glamorous facade, their hearts race when their fingers brush or their eyes meet. On a balcony overlooking the city lights, John reassures Y/N that they don't need to be nervous around him. Their vulnerability deepens their bond, and they admit their feelings. The story culminates in the quiet of the library, where they hold hands, and John confesses his feelings, marking the start of a new chapter filled with romance and love.

Undercover Hearts:

Y/N and John are going undercover for a mission and things go side ways. Y/N ends up getting hurt and John helps them, although he is upset about it. While lecturing Y/N, he accidentally let's his thoughts slip.

Shadows of Justice: A Connection Unveiled:

{currently writing}

John Reese Having A Crush On You Would Include

Dating John Reese Would Include

Harold Finch

Coding Connection: A Partnership in the Shadows:

In the digital age, where information reigns supreme, a chance encounter with the enigmatic Harold Finch leads a brilliant computer whiz into a world of hidden surveillance, vigilantism, and moral complexity. As they work together to protect lives flagged by the Machine, a sentient AI, a deep connection grows between them. Despite the weight of their mission and the secrets they hold, a unique bond emerges, one that transcends the digital realm and sparks a love that blossoms in the quiet moments between lines of code and flashes of brilliance. "Coding Connection: A Partnership in the Shadows" is a tale of justice, trust, and the profound connection that can be found in the most unexpected places.

Sameen Shaw

Unspoken Connection:

Summary: In the bustling world of espionage and intrigue, a chance encounter sparks an unspoken connection between the enigmatic Sameen Shaw and an unsuspecting reader. As they navigate the complexities of their dangerous profession, they find solace in each other's presence and discover a bond that transcends words. "Unspoken Connection" explores the unspoken understanding between two individuals drawn together by fate in a world filled with secrets and uncertainty.

Root

Close Call:

Summary: after a high-stakes mission, the reader becomes angry at Root for not taking better care of herself when they discover Root has been injured. To calm the reader's anger, Root surprises them with a passionate kiss, conveying both her apology for not being careful and her gratitude for the reader's concern. The kiss brings the reader's anger to a halt and strengthens their bond, with Root promising to be more cautious in the future and assuring the reader that she'll always come back to them.

this is everything i could have asked for and more ;~;

Exchanging Pleasantries / Cooper Howard Imagine

Request: Could you please do hurt/comfort with The Ghoul? Like, maybe you got hurt during a fight with Raiders and he's being mean while stitching you up. Thanks pookie bookie ily

Omg bb @itsyellow ily too I couldn't wait to write this!! Hit me with that hurt/comfort that's my jam son

Also did I make this full of unresolved sexual tension? Frick yeah I did

As always, if you enjoyed please drop a comment to help me out and let me know!

Warning: slightly NSFW/ making out, mentions of injury and violence, slight mention of a choking kink? and some strong language!

(I do not own Fallout or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Y'know, you may be one of the stupidest goddamn people left on this planet. And I've seen a hell of a lotta stupid people.'

You know better to think that the one and only Ghoul: the slinking shadow that steadily tails and entraps every inch of the starkly barren world he can reach, the infamous bounty feared in every town, from Philly to Rivet City, would be one for pleasantries. Yet, even during your brief period travelling with the man across the wake of the formerly 'glorious' West-coast America, his callousness often left you wishing for the sweet silence of a Nuclear Winter.

Even Cooper Howard himself recognises the fact that he doesn't exactly, well, radiate off anything that could be called close to a succouring nature. Hell, he would be happy to radiate off anything that wouldn't have you spending his valuable time making detours to wandering doctors holed up in blood-splattered tents to use his hard-earned money in bartering for caps off your next bottle of Rad-X. He supposes, as you had shaken the bottle in front of his frowning face and wandered back off into the crowning desert sun, that if he could work himself back up to being unenthused, he would be able to count it as his first win in over two hundred years.

'Well, if you tried to stop fighting every single person still left out here I wouldn't have to risk my ass stupidly running in to save you', you retort, gnashing your teeth and trying your best not to squirm against his chest as he rips a fragment of broken plate from the back of your shoulder.

It wasn't often that you were allowed to light a fire in the wilds of the Wasteland: far too many radroach nibble bites littered your legs, far too many gash-covered tentacles slashes from the repulsive Centaurs marked your outer arms. However, as the two of you had spent your seemingly so lovely afternoon out on the highway being ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Raiders, you had browbeaten the Ghoul into allowing the two of you such a special treat. An empty bottle of Nuka Cola lies by your faded makeshift floor covering that acts as your mattress, and you sigh in relief as the warmth of the flames licks across your tired arms.

Your soon drawn out of your repose by the feel of The Ghoul's cowboy boots thumping against either side of your legs; he awkwardly tries to leave enough room that he's not straddling your back, but his legs won't quite dip down enough to be more than halfway off the floor.

It leaves him having to scrape himself forward until his groin is nearly pressed against your tailbone, and you can feel the hem of his hat brush up your neck as he idly surveys the extent of your injuries. As he fidgets the strap of your vest down past the joint of your shoulder, you have to breathe in sharply to stop yourself grunting at the sharp scratch of his glove's rough seams as he drags his hand down.

'You're right', he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, dragging a strip of musty cloth out of his satchel bag and pressing it against your oozing wound. 'Your ass really is fucking stupid if you think that you were helpin'.' You grimace as a flash of stimulation and mortification flashes through your body; whether the pain in your gut is from the flesh wounds or from the clutch of thick leather as the Ghoul tantalisingly rakes his fingers up the tender skin of your shoulder and grips, you're too distracted to try and find out.

Sweeping your eyes over the fire-brushed ground that cracked and and crumbled underneath your heel, you can understand his frustration at you. At the world. Scorch marks litter the dusty ground around your make-shift campsite, the plasma rifles and energy weapons the Fiends had managed to barter, steal, and smuggle out from the Van Graffs stock lying in blasted pieces around the fragments of rusted metal once shielding the long gone diesel pumps. The violence - the anger, it always seemed never ending. Gosh, what you wouldn't give for a canopy right now: to stop the sun burns from blistering your face, to hide the sudden hush of shame and embarrassment that rose flush up your face like a mushroom cloud.

'Yeah, well, I did come running- you're welcome, by the way-', you start, but the Ghoul, as venomous a man as he is, cuts short your reply by prodding the point of one of the needles holding the tail edge of his coat together into the hanging flaps of your skin. Your hand balls into a fist as you feel the sharp tip scrape over muscle; you try your best not to whimper as his poison slits through your veins and slithers down to corrode your very soul, but the relief. Oh, god, corruption has never felt so good as the Ghoul's free hand sliding down to cup your ribcage. His middle and ring finger took turns tapping against your waist, a slight huff coming from his mouth and tingling against the shell of your ear.

At first, you think the Ghoul is mad at you: pissed off that if any of the Raiders had survived and scampered off back to their chem-den to frenziedly retell their confrontation with a certain duster-clad gunslinger, a certain ruthless reputation - a certain long upheld persona, would be tarnished. That he was aggravated in having to waste his dwindling supply of bullets in wasting the spiky-hair fiend that had sprung out from the door of the thought abandoned Red Rocket Truck Stop just as you were busy body slamming his friend to the ground. That he was embittered at the fact that you had the incredibly anserine idea to stop off in the middle of goddamn nowhere: somewhere straight off your Pip-Boy map to nestle down for the night on your route to the New Vegas strip.

Enraged, indeed, by the fact that he may have to admit that he wanted to save your life.

'You call that running?', he puffs out a chuckle, unceremoniously wiping the blood of the needle by using the back of your vest. 'I call that leaping up yonder head over ass across that Nuka-Cola machine.' He lets go of your side, much to your disappoint, and looks at you disapprovingly as you turn around to face him. He's waving the syringe edge of a stimpak in your general direction, and you make sure to slap his hand extra hard as you grab it off him.

'You know, cowboy, you were the one that asked me to tag along. Not the other way round', you groan in exhilaration as you stab the needle into the knife wound on your thigh, and that first hit of the Stimpak courses through your muscle. Cooper has to clench his fingers into the leather of his fist to stop himself from going feral right there and then. He sniffs loudly, scrunching up his nose and casting his gaze to the fireside to try and hide his displeasure.

'Well', he manages to choke out between clenched teeth, gripping onto his own leg so harshly he wonders if he's drawn blood between his claws, 'you are such delightful company.'

For the first time in his life, Cooper Howard wants to just... ride away from his problems. That's all you were supposed to be: a solution. A resource. Another object to exploit, to foist upon his own callous needs so that he may survive another day in this merciless hell pit. A life for a hundred and fifty vials felt like a mighty fair trade in the disintegrating shit-show of post-apocalyptic commerce.

It had been easier that way, luring you away from the only small shack left among the rubble of the underground Subway Station that the Fiends hadn't left splattered with blotted rivers of crimson and half-mangled body parts. It had been so much simpler, as he had shoved the still fresh bodies of the murderers and cannibals off the side of the Metro escalator, that he was here to save you. That he had no knowledge of the bounty held over your head by the Enclave, or of the reasons that you had become so... acquainted with the New California Republic during your month long travels for the Crimson Caravan Company. As the door had groaned open, he was left pointing his pistol in your face: a towering penumbra, larger than life, that seemed to swallow every inch of swinging lamplight around your doorway in a veiled sinfulness. He had found it so much easier, as he peered down at your gloomy face and smirked as the unmistakable sound of a Ripper reared closer to his head, that he was here to be your saviour.

That's right. As he had offered you protection: a safe route away, a constant presence, your second shadow on your journey back to the Strip for only a measly few caps, he had found it so much easier to pretend that this wasn't personal. That the way you shook his hand hadn't made his skin prickle, hadn't been the first thing his nerves had alighted at since the last fading memory he had of caressing his wife. That the way you had strapped your leather armour pauldron around your left shoulder, and pulled up the hem of your trouser leg to strap a hidden knife to your calf didn't have him unconsciously dragging his tongue along the cracks of his bottom lip, and left him staring in bemusement. The incredulousness that had his eyes glazing over and the bottom of his stomach clenching as the two of you pried open the doors back up to the surface, and he had nonchalantly inquired as to who had... disposed of the Fiends before his arrival here. You had just shrugged, throwing a smirk at him from behind your shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth twitch up to mirror your reaction.

It had been so, so much easier to pretend that you were just another bounty. That you were the first person, since he had lost Janey in another life, that had made him feel something other than contempt. Or worse, nihility. Nothingness. Just a hodgepodge script of fabricated and fictional lines that he reeled off as if it were more than just second-nature; an amalgamation of everything hollow and horrid that he had spent so much of his long-lost life trying desperately to bury.

But Cooper knew better than anyone, that nothing, and no one, could stay buried forever.

And with every returned smile: every lingering brush of some Caravan Trader's fingers on your arm as they tried to sell you some over-priced snake oil, every repulsive simper of a NCR trooper as they tried to buy you a bottle of vodka during your rare stops at some remote barrack, had the rot he had constructed within his soul become that little bit more mutilating.

The silence between you is deafening. And so you do something really stupid: you decide to ask him about his dirt-stained outfit.

'So', you drawl, turning yourself around so your legs are crossed out by your side, doing your best to stay firmly seated between the tensing muscles of the Ghoul's thick thighs. He draws his spurs in a line across the sand, but to your astonishment, and wild delight, he doesn't pull his legs open any further. 'Did you rob a real cowboy or something? I didn't think they were real. The only ones we ever saw were those rugged, way too contrived looking ones on those old movies.'

Your fingers curl over the edges of his collar, tentatively letting your fingers drop to rest against the sharp gap against his breastbone.

A muscle in Cooper's jaw jumps.

Oh. Oh. You'd never seen him actually angry before, behind all that cowboy western shooter charade.

For a moment, you're worried you've offended him somehow; a faraway look seems to draw him into the pale billows that smoke up from the orange flames, and a look that you've never seen before- never could even contemplate drooping the face of the suddenly so haggard looking man sitting by your side flitted across his scrunching face.

Forlorn. He looked so forlorn.

Neither of you are sure if he's even conscious of his arm moving, snaking itself across the small of your back to clutch almost painfully against the meat of your hip. His thumb strokes against the outline of your bone: probing, testing, clawing and pinching as if he had repeated the action over and over and over again in his mind.

'This? This is as old as the dirt and the worms.'

He doesn't react, doesn't move the frozen stone of his stoic face when you hesitantly grip onto his fingers, and slowly... god, so slowly, pull his glove off and drop it on the ground. Suddenly feeling so exhausted, your droop your head down against the dried sweat on your neck and watch yourself place your hand gingerly over his own, holding him in a wary vice against your side.

'What... what's a worm', you tentatively ask, your eyes wide open in worry that your question might break the provisionary affinity of this moment.

Cooper actually... snorts, a smirk threatening to break across his face as he looks out of the corner of his eye at you. 'An 'ol creature that used to live under the soil.' His eyes burn a hole into your irises, and he finally cracks out in a sallow grin as he contemplates the fact that he has your whole, enraptured attention. 'In fact, almost a whole lot like you.'

You smack his shoulder, but he only tilts his head back with an inquisitive gloat on his lips. He tips his head down, moving his other free hand to grab and squeeze the other side of your waist, making you woefully buck back against the bottom button of his shirt as the pit of your bottom begins to thrum with a devastating heat.

'Now', you can hear the teasing in his voice as he dips his spine down to hover over the shell of your ear. 'The real question is, where in the sweet hell would you have seen such heinous films such as those?'

His hand crawls like sweet spiderwebs across to your bellybutton, taking your breath away as he cups his palm against your skin and carts you back till your resting against the side of his chin, entangling you against the last vestige of the man he's entombed within the Stygian shadows.

'My ma used to show them to me and my brother if we had been extra good. She spent a whole three months saving up whatever metal scraps she could scavenge to go trade over at the General Store in Goodsprings and buy ourselves a real life television. The picture was blurry as shit, and we only had one holotape that I swear I ended up being able to quote back to front by the time I was sick of watching it. But hell, if we didn't crowd around the floor in wonder and dream about being a mysterious, rifle swinging stranger that roamed around the wastes saving people.'

Cooper purses his lips, swallowing thickly as he lassos your words in a whirlwind around his mind. After what seems like an eternity of listening to the soft whistle blow through the cartilage of his nose, of noting the quiet scurry of Bark Scorpions barbing through the pale tufts of faraway brushes, and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribcage, each hit cracking your ribcage open with a sledgehammer, Cooper grumbles a reply.

'Y'know, there's an old saying back where I'm from - one that those folks in those movies you... respected use' to say. Feo, fuerte y formal. It means you're ugly, strong, and dignified. And shit, I can say for sure that you've got ugly ticked off that list.'

'You cheeky shit-', you start, but you can't help but shove your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from laughing. With a jolt forward over your stomach, you wince at the pain that flashes through your body at your only recently closed wounds. The Ghoul snarkily utters a tut tut, making you actually fucking whimper aloud this time when his hands grab your love handles, lifts you up, and slaps you down atop his lap. A faint slip from the curve of your buttocks sliding down to settle against his inner thigh has him hissing against the back of your head.

Even though there was no chance of it ever occurring, the Ghoul loosely clenched his fingers around your throat and tilted your head back until your throat went dry, as if daring you to move away from him again.

'Ain't your fault darlin'', he twangs out in that hoarse voice of his, his tongue flicking as smooth as molasses against the shell of your ear: his pointed edge darting a sticky trail up to your inner ear. 'It ain't your fault that you look like a molerat.'

You snort, and Cooper finds himself smiling at the sound of a noise he hasn't heard since his daughter was... since his daughter was...

'You remind me of someone I used to know, you know that? She was... she was far too sweet. Far too good for all this shit too.'

'Aha, there he is.' You wrestle out of his grasp and turn your head disbelievingly. The Ghoul looks almost taken aback, before he draws back into himself and fixes himself to stare you down. 'Finally making an appearance after all this time, are we? Good to see I'm finally getting through to you.'

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?', he bares his teeth, gnashing them together almost instinctively.

'I mean, I think that was as close to an honest exchange with the man inside you I'm ever going to have.'

That makes him start.

Pensively, he watches you, assessing and appraising the quirks and emotions that wander across your face as he waits for you to finish your accusation.

'And unless you stop sticking your blaster in the face of every creature that walks and talks, probably your last as well.'

The Ghoul swallows thickly, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner by the almost sinful way he's darting your eyes down to your lips and allowing them to hover there. 'Now darlin', I'm only exchanging pleasantries.'

'Is that really what you'd call yourself? And here I thought it was cantankerous.'

'Considering the literal crap-hole you grew up in I'm surprised you even know that word, now.'

'The sewers are empty, Cowboy - I'd say there's more piss on you from Dogmeat than down there. Besides, I lived in a Subway Station... asshole', you spit out at your feet, hitting the fragmented remains of one of your assailants helmet spikes.

A jab pokes at your inner thigh; the clenched thumb of the Ghoul branding into your skin as he finally looks you dead in the eyes with a cold stare. 'And there you are.'

And yet there's something. There's something lingering there, in the dark. In the swirl of his irises. In the only part of his body that still remains fully intact. Fully him. Something valorous. A convolution of steadfastness and pride. An imploringness.

'Suppose...', you inhale sharply, not realising that the two of you have managed to claw and scrape and crawl inch by inch closer to each other during your... showdown. 'Suppose', you buck your knees forward until you have enough leverage to haunch yourself up and turn, using the exertion to swivel yourself round and straddle the Ghoul's legs. Your gaze dips down to watch the purse of his strangled lips, his head slowly raising itself to unmask itself from the murk. 'That we aren't so different after all.'

Before you have time to regret your words, the stout pressure of clashing thumbs and fingers have jerked against your chin and pulled you down to smash against Cooper's mouth. Gnashing teeth pull at your bottom lip without a moment's warning, slicing down to draw blood. Cooper pulls back to snarl, before diving back in and licking away the thin trail of blood driplets that dribble down your chin dimple with the flat edge of his impoverished tongue.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly against your stomach ravishes you, growling as he reaches down to pull at the bottom of your thighs, and raise your knees up so he can cup your ass and knead the sweet flesh.

Part of you wants to rip his clothes off him right there and then, part of the recesses of your mind worries about the impending danger of the Wastelands: a roaming gang of looters, the unlucky shimmer that forewarns the arrival of a Nightstalker, but all of you wants to slam your hands around the side of this man's face and knock him straight to the ground with the ferocity of your kiss.

Before you can even make it past the squishing his cheeks phase, you’re distracted from your plan by the pressure point of his fingers teasingly prodding against the outline of your inseam. You can't enact your plan - you can't, not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh. Can feel the warm, almost ruinating nibble of his top teeth against the pulse point of your neck, before he leaves an apologetic slide of his inner lip against it: something bright and burning and beautiful making the nerves of his body scream as it gnaws away at their rot.

Perhaps, perhaps there was still time for the Ghoul to exhume the mouldering remains of Cooper Howard after all.

A Hearts Misunderstanding

Loki x Reader

They/Them pronouns

Takes place right before Thor: Ragnarok

Summary:The reader, accompanied by their best friend Thor, visits the grand realm of Asgard. Little do they know, Loki, the enigmatic prince of Asgard, has always had a not-so-secret crush on the reader, who had been rather rude to him in the past. As Thor shows the reader around and makes them laugh, Loki's jealousy reaches its breaking point, leading to a heated argument. In a burst of anger, Loki confesses his feelings, leaving the reader surprised and speechless.

After a moment of silence, the reader kisses Loki and admits their love for him, sealing the beginning of a budding romance. Thor, always the good-natured mediator, playfully remarks on the young love, taking credit for bringing them together.

A Hearts Misunderstanding

You stood in awe as Thor guided you through the grandeur of Asgard, its magnificent palace towering above you, every corner adorned with exquisite craftsmanship. Thor had been a perfect host, sharing stories of Asgard's history, its people, and showing you the hidden gems of the realm.

You couldn't help but laugh as Thor recounted one of his childhood misadventures, and as you did, you noticed a certain someone lurking nearby. Loki, the ever-elusive prince of Asgard, had always had a mysterious air about him, and you had never really been close. In fact, you'd been rather rude to him on several occasions, unknowingly hurting his feelings.

As Thor's laughter echoed through the halls, Loki couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy deep within him. He had harbored a not-so-secret secret crush on you for quite some time, but he assumed you held nothing but disdain for him. Your closeness with his brother only fueled the fire of his insecurity.

Loki's patience wore thin, and his emotions got the best of him. He interrupted your merriment with Thor, snapping, "Must we continue with this incessant laughter and endless tales, Thor? There's more to Asgard than your futile anecdotes."

Your laughter ceased, and you turned to Loki, your eyes flashing with annoyance. "Loki, if you're so uninterested, then why don't you just leave?" you retorted sharply.

Thor, sensing the growing tension, stepped in to mediate. "Come on, you two, no need for this."

But Loki, consumed by his jealousy, couldn't be dissuaded. "Maybe I will," he spat, storming off with a heavy heart.

Your anger flared. "What's his problem, Thor?" you questioned, hurt and anger bubbling inside you.

Thor sighed, a mix of frustration and sympathy in his eyes. "He's got his demons, Y/N. I'll go talk to him."

You nodded and watched Thor go, trying to make sense of the sudden conflict. Moments later, Loki and Thor returned, but the tension still hung in the air like a thick cloud.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Loki suddenly burst out, "You think you're so clever, Y/N, playing these games with Thor, laughing at his jokes, and pretending you don't see me, but I see you! I've always seen you."

You were taken aback by his outburst, your eyes widening in surprise. Loki's expression had shifted from anger to a mixture of sorrow and vulnerability.

"Say something, anything," he implored, his voice trembling.

You were at a loss for words. The revelation left you unusually quiet. Uncertain of how to respond, you tentatively reached out, your hands resting on his cheeks, and you kissed him softly.

"I love you, Loki," you whispered, your forehead pressing against his. The weight of your unspoken feelings finally lifted.

Loki's eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and elation dancing in them. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as he murmured, "I love you too, Y/N. I always have."

Just when you thought the moment couldn't get any more perfect, Thor, with his ever-endearing sense of timing, appeared beside you. "Ah, young love," he quipped, a mischievous grin on his face. "I knew this tour was a good idea."

You and Loki couldn't help but chuckle, your hands still entwined as you shared a knowing glance. Despite the rocky start, Asgard had become the backdrop for the beginning of something beautiful between you and Loki, and Thor was more than happy to take the credit for his part in bringing you two together.

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i hope you guys had as much fun reading this as i did writing this!