#I have so many head canons about these two

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hancock x F!Reader [ A03 ]

Summary: You are important to John Hancock; there is a radstorm brewing. As a skilled and reformed scavver, you’re after a part for a decommissioned lounger—it belongs to Doc Amari’s famed Memory Den.

Hancock's tense; he should have gone with you, but it’s not too late to search you out. He would be glad to have you home safe in his arms, only things don’t always go as planned, nor do you go unpunished for your negligence.

Explicit: NSFW / 18+ for PWP, PiV sex, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, whump / hurt and comfort, angst, gun violence, light bondage, praise, light sub/dom undertones, edging, use of chems, alcohol, foul language, and canon-typical violence and behavior. Other worthy mentions include fluff, romance, a worried and protective Hancock, and love confessions.

Notes: I am normally a Star Wars writer. This is my first time writing for Hancock, and my first fic for the Fallout fandom. I see Hancock as multifaceted, which I am having fun exploring. I have many ideas, but one fic can only contain so much! I used a few lines of dialogue from the game because they stuck with me T__T. I will also most likely try my hand at Nick Valentine at some point, (and maybe even Coop), but this ghoul stole my heart.

6.8k+

Feedback appreciated. Like? Reblog! <3 Requests accepted!

Eyes as black as tar pits searched the ground at his feet, though no answers would present themselves, the cold, grimy filth of the Commonwealth something he could relate to on an atomic level. Flecks of barren soil and bits of detritus vaulted upward in a stagnate aggregate of dust, cavalier leather boots—having seen better days—leaving a swirl of varied particulates in their wake.

Hancock paced, the Mayor of Goodneighbor impatient as a hungry mole rat, the man left to stalk before the door that led to the Financial District. A dreary, dark green pall signaled to anyone with brains that there was a storm looming on the horizon, and yet you had not returned.

“Where the hell is she?” a raspy voice asked its sparse audience, two ghouls dedicated to his cause doubling as bodyguards, though if he felt safe anywhere, it was here among his brethren.  Besides, it wasn’t his safety he was worried about, it was yours, and he wasn’t afraid to convey his feelings to the whole of town.

“Startin’ to get antsy. Gotta hand it to her, she’s got me sweatin’ like a whore in church over this. Hope she’s havin’ fun at my expense.”

Scavenging was lucrative, or it could be if you managed to score the right loot. You had to know where to look, or where not to look; danger was always in the cards. It was a game Hancock didn’t like to play, and especially not now, not when lightning streaked the sky, rain clouds pregnant with radiation threatening to burst open like a feral’s head looking down the muzzle of a sawed-off shotgun.

He knew what it was like to be forced to scour the bare bones of buildings, filching anything that was ripe for the picking. A single find could feed a man for weeks, and places like Goodneighbor just didn’t just build themselves. People needed things. Lucky for them, Hancock was able to provide. It was his one claim to fame—his rep was solid—but he didn’t look down on you for being one to scout for buried treasure.

“She’ll turn up,” one of his companions offered. It was a piteous attempt to console him, Hancock all but ignoring his dismissive comment. He felt his concern was obvious, yet his bedfellows were none of their business. Either way, he brushed it off like a decent man instead of snapping like he wanted to—the guy’d done nothing wrong.

Thunderclaps echoed through town, the first of many droplets pelting his marred face, the ghoul’s faithful tricorn not doing much in the way of shielding him from the dirtied water that had begun to trickle down onto its weathered surface.

He rued allowing you to go out on this wild-mongrel chase to begin with, not to say that you weren’t capable. What he might say is that you’re too good for this world, too good for him, but that hadn’t stopped him from falling head over heels.

You weren’t anti-social like most of your kind; you had a good heart, gave paying customers fair deals, and somehow you had kept the ruins from tarnishing your cheerful outlook; you sported a chipper disposition even at the worst of times.

In other words, you were his little ray of sunshine; Hancock had no qualms with telling you that to your face. And things as precious as you were to him? They needed protecting. It was becoming more obvious by the minute that he should have done the job himself.

“If this is her definition of ‘fast,’ we’re going to need to have a little chat to clear a few things up. Should have fucking gone with her, don’t know what I was thinking,” fried vocal cords scratched out, words tinged with worry as he made his way to the reinforced slab of steel that was Goodneighbor’s single entry point, not counting the alley behind Rexford.

“Maybe you weren’t thinkin’ at all, John…” that little voice inside his head nagged at him, reminding himself at every turn of the ways he’d failed, this on the verge of being one of them.

“Want us to look?” the other rejoined, aware you had been sent out on a job to find a replacement circuit board for Doctor Amari, as one of the memory lounger’s had been marked out of service. The doc would pay you well; everyone’s gotta eke a living somehow. Hers was made by sellin’ a man’s own memories back to him, and yours was made by sellin’ spare parts.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have skipped out on his Mayoral duties for one evening, Hancock mentally scolding himself, his sentiments leading him toward the need to kick his own ass.

Quick, adept and clever, he had no doubt you could pull it off, but you were used to traveling in a group, used to back up and a lookout. You had willingly ditched your crew and settled here for him, making Goodneighbor more or less your permanent home. He couldn’t help but feel like he was ultimately responsible for you and your well-being—so far, so good. He’d be damned if anything happened to you on his watch.

The coming radstorm was starting to sound like a stampede of angry Brahmin. Not even those of his ilk should be out in this mess. Technically immortal, sure, but not immune to accumulating all that bad stuff brewing in the atmosphere; he was comfy right where he was, but not without his lady by his side.

Their self-elected leader ignored the question, reaching into the confines of his red frock coat to unveil the firepower hidden just out of sight. His break-action, double-barreled 12-gauge had most of its stock removed for easy concealment; he knew better than to step foot outside Goodneighbor without packing heat.

“No, you might say this is a personal problem. Not to say she wouldn’t make a damn fine Ghoul,” he stated with deadly calm, kicking the door open with reckless abandon despite his unflappable demeanor, not caring what awaited him on the other side.

“I’m going with you, ain’t safe,” words spoken over harsh winds, a breeze not in the least bit refreshing having descended upon the Commonwealth as Hancock slipped out into the mounting tumult, both men following close behind. Truthfully, he was grateful for their loyalty.  

“Suit yourself, but don’t go gettin’ yourself killed. Would defeat the purpose of a search and rescue, ya feel me?”

A question not needing a response, he ventured forward, running headfirst into the growing tempest, chaos reigning overhead in the form of a blinding light show.

Hancock called out for you, yelling your name over the deafening commotion that was going to get worse before it got better, not about to go home empty-handed, even if it took the whole damn rest of the night. He hoped you were smart enough to know when to quit, or that you’d taken those Mentats he’d stuffed in your pocket on the way out.

“Get back here, scavver!”

Footfalls echoed in the dark, brisk in pace, inky, depthless eyes narrowing as the ghoul searched out the source. He had taken no more than half a dozen steps before he was forced to witness you at a full-fledged run, two burly raiders belting out insults and expletives hot on your trail.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but he was stone-cold sober, time standing still as you dove into Hancock’s open arms.

“There’s my girl,” the scoundrel purred into your ear, sinewy limbs enshrouding you as the sound of gunfire and discarded ammo casings nearly went unnoticed. Hancock let his own weapon fall to the ground to accommodate you, your pursuers dispatched like the trash they were. The members of the Neighborhood Watch who had accompanied him outside the walls made short work of both men; they deserved a drink and some chems on his dime.

“John,” you breathed out, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth as you held up that piece of scrap you were so proud of. His name off your tongue was musical, a warm sensation spreading through him like wildfire, better than drugs—it was a high he would never come down from.

“I—I got the part,” you spoke softly, your tepid breath tickling the remnants of a disfigured ear.

Hancock almost shivered.

But oh, no. He wasn’t about to let you off that easy, not when he’d felt that pang of anxiety and the sickening feeling in his gut like someone had shanked him with his own knife. He held you back by the shoulders, breaking your embrace, his face taking on a displeased, stern shade.

“What’s wrong with you, huh? Makin' me all kinds of nervous. Scarin’ me half to death. And some might say I don’t look too far off.” He breathed in nice and slow, exhaling through exposed nasal cavities, Hancock emitting a sigh to emphasize his disappointment. “Can’t be doin’ things like that, or you’re liable to give this old ghoul a—”

“—Sunshine?” His heart sank, as if the universe was out to prove he had every right to worry, Hancock’s attention inexplicably drawn to the red staining your fingers—it neared the color of his coat. You only now seemed to notice, that radiant light swept from your beaming face as you acknowledged the presence of your own blood on your hands; no wonder it had been so hard to take those last few steps.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, eyes blown wide as you apologized for upsetting him. You would collapse into a heap, the adrenaline that had carried you home seeming to dissipate all at once—at least your fight-or-flight response had done its duty.

---

“Move over, out of the way. I ain’t askin’ twice,” Hancock seethed, the distraught man’s threat to bowl over anyone who stood in his way not to be taken lightly, though his tone was traitorously even and his despondency well-masked. He stormed the Old State House, ascending the spiral staircase to the second floor, carrying your limp body to a tattered red couch.

Refuse and empty Jet inhalers, along with half-drunk bottles of alcohol and boxes of Mentats, were all swept aside, Hancock throwing open cabinet doors and dislodging drawers in his haste.

“Oh, you’re really in it now, aren’t you, sister? Just had to make a few extra caps!” he chided, the ghoul’s husky voice rising in volume as he took to another part of the room.

Having not yet succumbed to blood loss, you were barely cognizant as you fought to stay awake, your beloved Mayor nothing more than a blur of motion and splotches of red as he systematically searched every nook and cranny for the syringe that would save your life.

“Hang on, dollface, you’re not dying today. Not if I have anything to say about it—and you know how much I love to run my mouth.” Hancock spoke to reassure you and himself, filling the silence with something other than the curses he wanted to dish out every which way to the wind. You couldn’t help but to smile again despite your predicament, eyelids drooping as you thought about the idea of sleep.

“There you are,” he growled, your vision starting to glaze over, though you were aware Hancock had come back to your side. His scarred, yet deceptively handsome face hovered inches above your own; it was an acquired taste you had no trouble in accepting.

“This is gonna hurt, but it’s better than the alternative,” he provided in short warning, withered fingers fumbling to unbutton your top, exposing first your sternum, your ribs, and then your belly.

“Shit, they got you good,” Hancock grumbled, your hand rising to cradle his jaw as he had peeled back the flaps of fabric to inspect the wound in your side. You were surprisingly calm, thinking that if today was your last day on Earth, at least you had been blessed to experience his company. 

“I’m glad it’s you here with me,” your voice, meek and mild, declared. Hancock hesitated for one precious second, caught off guard, but pleasantly so.

“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me! Ain’t like these are your final moments or nothin’,” he assured, an audible tremble causing his words to waver, voice rising in pitch. He went on to stab you without ceremony, the needlepoint of a stimpak and its revitalizing medicine at once injecting itself into your damaged flesh and pulsing through your bloodstream.

You moaned in pain, hips arching as you lifted slightly up off the cushions before you settled once more, allowing yourself to finally relax as Hancock watched the regenerative process take hold, much to his relief.

---

You awoke, finding yourself supine atop a mattress, with Hancock crossed legged on the floor beside you. He had brought it down from upstairs, wanting you to have somewhere more comfortable to recover; the drifters weren’t using it, but he was sure he could scrounge another one up should the need arise.

The door was shut, the rest of the room empty, the man teetering off the edge of a high he wished he could prolong; he had pumped himself full of all those things that made him feel better. Riddled with guilt, he had imbibed both chems and alcohol, his body slightly swaying from left to right as he could not sit entirely still, yet he was too far off in his own head to notice you had come back to him.

You shifted, realizing he had draped his frock across your body to act as a temporary blanket. This simple gesture caused a flutter behind sore ribs, biceps activating so that you might push up and rest on the flat of your palms.

John was idle, near-dead to the world, eyes closed as he kept up that gentle rocking, back and forth, as if lost in music or in deep meditation. You only desired to watch him, studying the intricate, striated patterns of his ravaged flesh, gazing over the hollow of his once human nose, and admiring his sullied, foppish tunic that was a part of his infamous ensemble.

While some might consider him a monster, he was a being of light. He had superficial, obvious flaws, but he was no more guilty of sin than anyone else in this day and age. He was a beautiful soul, inside and out, and your opinion was the only one that mattered to you. Hancock always tried to do the right thing—it’s what drew you to him—even if that meant taking out a few loose ends. 

Your heart stirred, natural chemical processes taking hold that would prompt you to touch him, your hormones dictating that you wanted this man carnally.

The ghoul’s eyes bolted open as you shuffled forward on your behind; you set his coat aside almost reverently, folding your legs like his, knees brushing as you leaned forward to kiss his wiry lips. Soft flesh against textured skin, rough in comparison, felt no less wonderful, Hancock groaning out a throaty sound of appreciation as he slowly shut his eyes again.

That was all the encouragement you needed, pressing closer, crawling onto Hancock’s lap as his hands found the meat of your ass to give it a squeeze. “Someone’s feelin’ better…” he quipped, allowing himself to lie back on the floor. His smile was lackadaisical and content, his touch roving to your thighs as he gazed up at you, noting you were tugging off your already unbuttoned top to reveal your shapely breasts.

“How’d a guy like me get so damn lucky…” he drawled, Hancock’s normally assertive way of speaking temporarily replaced by a calming cadence—it was dreamy—his indolent tone arousing your most base instincts.

You didn’t answer at first, thinking you’re the one who’s lucky. You had wanted and needed a change of pace, not happy with the way your business partners were operating, willing to bring death to others in order to get what scrap they could. You only took things from the ruins, or from those who deserved to be robbed, the idea of senseless violence proliferating thanks to people like your ragtag group something you decided you couldn’t live with.

You’d come to Goodneighbor looking for work; Hancock had been willing to give you a chance, and you didn’t disappoint. After a few heady conversations and risqué flirtations at the Third Rail, you had wound up in his arms—a place you found yourself never wanting to leave.

“I could ask you the same question,” you finally muttered, grazing his mouth, kisses repeating, small pecks placed from one side to the other in a physical show of adoration. The ghoul laughed a wry, salacious little laugh, head turning to allow for this impromptu bout of affection, stretching one arm out behind his head to act as a pillow as he relished the attention.

Then, his smile faded, the chem’s effects lingering like background radiation, less intense than before—the high lasted mere minutes if that, his faculties gradually returning. The hand left free gingerly touched your side, just below where he had administered the stimpak hours earlier. Concern was apparent in glistening eyes, so dark and lovely, starry pupils reflecting the faint luminescence of his surroundings.

“Not lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he promised, every shred of levity fleeing to be replaced by austerity, low, somber notes causing a visceral reaction as the onset of something warm and fuzzy spread throughout your core.

“Bein’ out here with me? Means you don’t gotta work, but I should have had your back, sunshine. Ain’t got no excuse.”

“You can have me on my back,” you playfully retorted, the simple suggestion unleashing a purr from the bowels of the ghoul’s throat. The idea of being a kept woman pleased you, but you were more interested in pleasing him.

“You better watch your mouth, or I can’t be held responsible for all those things I’m going to do to you,” Hancock countered. He talked big game, but he was still feelin’ shook. He didn’t want to risk getting too frisky on the off chance your body needed more time to heal; you were only human, after all.

“I’m shaking in my boots,” you simpered. Hancock was quick to snark back.

“I know that’s a lie, ‘cause you’re not wearing any.”

You gasped as Hancock flipped you without warning, pinning both your wrists to either side of your head. He drank in the smooth, supple flesh of your curves, hungry eyes making damn sure to get their fill.

He couldn’t stop himself, exploring the swell of a perfect tit, Hancock’s mouth becoming newly acquainted with the sensitive flesh of your nipple. He flicked its pert tip with the point of his tongue; you brazenly rolled your hips as you tried to contain the lewd sound that threatened to escape you.

“I double dog dare you, ” you tempted, not in the least bit afraid of what he might have in store.

Hancock didn’t take the bait.

“Don’t want to hurt you, love, but let’s say I give it to you nice and slow… Or as slow as I can give it; hard to keep promises, lookin’ the way you do,” he argued, ruined lips applying pressure as he began to suck, his growing erection gently grinding into the meat of your thigh.

“You won’t hurt me.” You shuddered as he pulled back, gazing into murky, otherworldly eyes, their glow hypnotizing. You half-assed a struggle, wanting to pull your hands free if only to touch him, Hancock chuckling mildly at your efforts.

“Don’t be so sure, ‘cause I got a hankerin’ for human,” his voice dropped emphatically lower, toying with you, his dire inflection sending tingles down your spine. Coming from a ghoul, most people would run the other way, but you knew from experience, Hancock had a twisted sense of humor—it was something you loved about him.

“Eat me,” you jeered, snapping your teeth playfully like some creature that roamed the wasteland, Hancock pulling his head back just enough to satisfy you, as if he had a nose to bite off to begin with.

“That’s the plan, sister,” he snickered, finally releasing his grip on your arms.

You took the opportunity to take hold of Hancock’s already tousled vest, guiding him down to meet your lips. Your fingers busied themselves with its unbuttoning as the ghoul had his hands full, cradling the plump, healthy tissue of your blushing cheeks in the crooks of his palms.

Hancock fed a grating moan into your mouth before asking a pointless question he already knew the answer to, not one to miss out on a chance to have his ego stroked. “Somethin’ about me.. turnin' you on? Don’t know why you’d go for this ugly mug,” he conceded, fishing for a compliment. 

“You. You turn me on,” you whined plaintively, “everything about you,” you confessed, furling your tongue around his, willing him to shut his trap long enough for you to kiss him properly. He aided in the undressing, whipping his sash off in one fell swoop, an idea blossoming only to come into fruition shortly thereafter.

“That why you’re actin’ so desperate for me?” Hancock laced that bit of ragged flag around both your wrists, constricting them once more, his own arm extending to tauten its hold. He wouldn’t give you the chance to kiss him the way you wanted to, cinching its loose ends around the legs of the coffee table just behind your head, giving it a good tug to make sure you couldn’t break free.

In reality, it would have been easy to wiggle loose, but he knew you were the type to play along.

“What are you doing?” you asked, feigning alarm. The ghoul only grinned a shit-eating grin, crawling backward across your lap to adjust to a better position for his next course of action. 

“Makin’ sure you can’t skip out on me,” he said matter of fact, a mischievous lilt to his voice, “gonna have to punish you for all that worryin’ you made me do.” 

“But, Hancock—” you protested, realizing he was barring you from the one thing you wanted—full access to his person, unable to grope and caress all those parts of him you were so eager to touch and kiss.

“—Hmm?” he hummed, the bastard having the nerve to stand. He left you in a recumbent position with hands tied, unable to do anything but gaze up at the seductive set of motions he was now subjecting you to.

The ghoul painstakingly unfastened the remainder of his buttons, wizened digits fondling each in turn, his manner suggesting something that for now would remain unspoken. Then, Hancock shrugged his vest off, allowing his arms to hang as the garment dropped silkily to the floor. It was followed by a festooned shirt, leaving the man bare chested and amused; he wasn’t sure you had blinked even once.

“Like what you see?” he asked lazily, tracing a line across his gaunt pecs toward his navel with the curl of a finger, black eyes glinting impishly at the sight of you jostling your wrists as you failed to liberate yourself.

“Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly, unable to deny the effect his little striptease had on you. This in and of itself was torture, finding his brand of punishment entirely unfair.

“Good,” Hancock crooned, doing the unthinkable as he vanished from view. He even went so far as to walk beyond your peripheral vision. Instead, you were reduced to listening out for him, the ghoul shuffling around somewhere behind you. 

“John,” you whined, sitting up and scooting back against the coffee table the best you could. You endeavored to crane your neck, hearing the clink of glass preceding other innocuous sounds, the gentle thud of Hancock’s boots echoing across the rotting floorboards as he made his way back around. 

“You can say my name all you want to, princess, but it ain’t gonna change a damn thing,” Hancock stressed, words clawing their way out of cracked pipes as he nudged your knees apart with his foot; he knelt between your legs, a dispenser of Jet in one hand, and a dose of Rad-X in the other. “Open wide,” he instructed. 

You should have known what he’d been after, the drug-addicted ghoul popping the lone anti-radiation capsule inside his mouth after dispensing a heavy spray of the illicit substance into his lungs; its potency was limited in his case, but you were easily susceptible to its high. 

You gratefully obeyed, wanting any excuse to be close to him, Hancock’s silver tongue molesting you as easily as it had persuaded you to listen. He deposited the pill into your mouth, kissing you deeply, your beloved Mayor giving you a shotgun of thick, odorous chems without so much as a single protest on your part. 

Your heart thrummed, Jet leeching its way into your bloodstream to trigger a bodily response via your nervous system. In the meantime, you had almost forgotten to swallow your dose of Rad-X, Hancock prompting you by trailing the full length of your throat with a single, sallow finger. 

He massaged it down, feeling for the activation of those muscles that would help ferry it along, his thoughts drifting to the memory of his cock once upon a time being slopped on by the wet whorl of your tongue. His prick had throbbed almost painfully, sequestered snugly inside your zealous gullet, the powerful suction of your hollow cheeks threatening to wrench his soul from his body, or it sure as hell had felt that way.

He was drawn back to the present moment by the look in your eyes, your pupils dilating to rival the circumference of dinner plates. You gazed at the man before you; Hancock pulled back the edge of your bottom lip, exposing your gumline, the ghoul snaking another of his fingers inside your partially open mouth. 

The slender extremity would bypass your blunt teeth, saturating itself in your saliva. Even in this state, you had the wherewithal to pucker up, intaking that explorative digit to the knuckle, your plush maw behaving like a deluxe pre-war vacuum cleaner. 

The ghoul shuddered, though keeping his cool intact, lost in the depths of your unwavering stare. He slowly slipped back out, releasing your lip for it to snap gently back into place, Hancock satisfied with the knowledge you had swallowed the pill.

“Look at you, bein’ such a good girl for me,” Hancock praised, speaking in a low, sultry whisper. You did not reply, your desire for the man at its all-time high, that warmth in your belly having spread to complement the unparalleled ache of your loins.

“Hancock,” you whimpered, once more tugging at the cloth that bound you. You felt delirious with longing, your heart racing as you saw stars, euphoria overtaking all of your senses. You pushed forward, halted partway by that fucking flag that had you fettered like some common criminal, too blazed to even think about squirming loose. 

“Please,” you begged, lips reaching for his. Hancock evaded you, trailing a divot devoid of cartilage across your sateen cheek, directing it toward your lovely, intact nose. 

“Please, what, sister?” he ruthlessly teased, watching as your tongue tried to skirt his teeth; its vertex barely met its goal. Still, Hancock would return the gesture with a sweep of his own, flitting his against yours, inhaling deeply the scent of Jet off your breath as he was suddenly consumed by an almost feral need to taste your neediness—it was nearly palpable. 

“Please.. touch you? Please kiss you? Please.. fuck your pretty little hole?” he asked in a derisive tone, though his movements were languid, Hancock in no rush to oblige you, even as his veiny hands glided over every inch of your sleek skin.

“Is that what my little ray of sunshine wants?” the ghoul taunted, moving to unbutton the clasp at the top of your pants, then pinching the pull of your zipper, teeth parting to reveal clean cotton. You were nearly embarrassed by how damp your panties were, the chems only making your arousal ten times worse; Hancock wasn’t helping matters, a lecherous moan reaching your ears as the man slid back and realigned himself, bending forward to bury his face in the moist outline staining your skivvies.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet—” he marveled breezily, “—is it all for me?” Hancock rasped, nipping you through the fabric, a desiccated finger tucking itself into its elastic hem. Hancock dragged it down just far enough to expose your sweet-smelling sex, the ghoul’s tongue slithering easily between slick folds. 

You inhaled a disjointed gasp for breath, voice cracking as you cried out in ecstasy, Hancock having barely swiped your thrumming clit. That alone was almost too much, your hips bucking beneath him of their own volition as you pleaded with him to keep his promise.

“Don’t tease,” you sighed, naked breasts rising and falling with every labored breath. Hancock’s eyes traveled up your fine as fuck body before meeting your gaze, a twisted hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his ghoulish mouth. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he snickered, fingers grasping the entirety of your waistband to help you shimmy off your bottom layer of clothes. Your hips wriggled all too desperately, overjoyed to finally be free of their constraints. 

“But that’s not fair!” you entreated, unabashedly spreading your legs in the hopes of providing him a suitable meal, ready and willing to be devoured if you could only convince him to take the plunge.  

“And why not?” he asked in all seriousness, nuzzling into the lush flesh of your labia as his silky tongue entombed itself, gathering your moist heat from its source. He dipped back out to your chagrin—you had inhaled sharply in preparation only to be left disappointed—Hancock licking a stripe to the cusp of your throbbing bud. 

“Because I’ll die,” you replied, overexaggerating, writhing in bliss, albeit temporary; Hancock seemed out to drive you mad, retracting once more to glance back up at you, reedy lips downturned in a disapproving frown. 

“No, you won’t,” he asserted, voice taking on a sobering, sincere quality; even if you were being hyperbolic, after the events that had just transpired, Hancock didn’t find it funny, resolving to dine on you good and proper, as if it would be the thing to save your life. 

“I—” You were cut off mid-thought, lightning crashing thunderously outside, the ghoul introducing two coarse fingers into your clenching cunt as the radstorm raged on. Hancock’s neck sank low as you arched your hips, the flat of a thick tongue bringing you toward rapture as he succinctly lapped your clit in delicious combination, playing you like some Old World violin. 

“Aren’t you glad you’re trapped in here with me instead of out there cookin’ alive?” Hancock asked offhand, digits curling to find the seat of your pleasure, warm, wet muscle dancing slow, precise circles across your sensitive nerves. You halfheartedly yanked at your bindings once more, wishing for nothing more than to ravish him like a woman starved, deprived of sustenance. 

“Yes, yes— please, just like that,” you answered, urging him on, the man encouraged to keep at it, long, languorous strokes titillating you toward release.

Then, he simply stopped, fingers glossy upon exit, Hancock sucking your slick clean off with a scarecrow smile, tilting his head like a curious animal as you bemoaned your plight, left to suffer on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Relax, I ain’t through with you yet,” Hancock remarked, lifting himself up to a seated position on his knees. You whined indignantly, made to watch as he unbuckled and unzipped his own pants.

The rogue stood completely, giving you another show, kicking one boot off after the other before slinking out of the rest of his clothes. 

You took a moment to admire him, skin pockmarked with scars, deep pits of tissue missing where cells had inevitably healed all too quickly, John a mosaic of gnarled, misshapen flesh and keloid. Yet he was so handsome, charming, and cavalier, the man leaving nothing on but his tricornered hat, returning to his previous enterprise by way of interring his roiling tongue into your aching center. 

“Oh, John,” you murmured, voice hushed, the man’s thumb working itself concentrically atop your little pearl. 

For once, he was quiet, his strokes inside you meticulous, the nearly silent room filled with a plethora of obscene sounds as he feasted on you like a Yao guai over a fresh kill. Just a little attention was all it took, nails digging into the palms of your tied hands as you twisted beneath him, vocalizing loud enough you were sure the whole State House would hear.

A shiver rocked you to your core, riding out your climax for as long as you could stand it. You were unable to push Hancock’s head back even if you wanted to, the ghoul finding a new way to punish you, continuing to stimulate your already oversensitive clit. 

“Hancock, please—” you begged him under different circumstances, the ball of your foot gingerly pushing against his blatant hard-on. The ghoul finally let up just enough to chortle dryly, obviously nonplussed.

“Done already? Thought we were just gettin’ this party started,” he flouted, sitting up properly, probing fingers caressing the curve of your slit as they trailed upward, ghosting over your navel to tweak your nipple. They didn’t stop there, reaching just behind you to nab a cigarette off the edge of the coffee table, your expression giving away your confusion as he struck a match to ignite the end.

“No, John— you’re supposed to fuck me!” you berated, another devious little chuckle let loose from wilted lips. The ghoul inhaled a deep drag of nicotine laced with radiation, though the amount contained therein was so trivial he didn’t bat a lash—not that he had any.

He gazed at you through a thin veil of smoke exuded from eroded nasal passages—a short burst of pressure from his lungs propelling it outward—a freakish sight to some, but you had grown accustomed to it. 

“So, that is what you want,” Hancock digressed, snubbing the end of his cig on the floor after a few more laggard puffs. The Jet was wearing off, Hancock having already sobered completely, its side effects leaving you feeling used-up and exhausted. Hancock had forgotten what it felt like to come down from such an intense high; you pouted pathetically up at him.

“Baby,” you whined, immediately capturing Hancock's attention. He dropped the act, eyes softening around the edges, colorless voids somehow the most expressive you had ever seen them.

“What is it, sunshine? Feelin’ all right? Need somethin’ to take the edge off?” he asked gently, concern present in his tone, the ghoul finally being kind enough to reach over your head to free you from your bindings. 

“I need you,” you implored, your speech sounding childishly irritable, tired, heavy arms lifting to wrap themselves around John’s neck; you couldn’t help yourself, having been prohibited from touching him for what felt like hours, when in reality it had only been a short length of time. 

“I’m all yours,” Hancock vowed, whisking a stray strand of your hair away. A soft kiss was pressed into even softer lips; the man was two sides of the same coin, like night and day. Part of you prayed you would never cross him, his temper volatile, like an active volcano lying dormant until such a time the right conditions were met, inevitably causing an eruption. 

But he was also kind, genuine, and a good person, only wanting to make the Commonwealth a better place; he held within him a righteous anger, and for good reason, determined to stick by him through thick and thin. 

"Nice and slow?" you asked, bringing the conversation full circle, ushering the ghoul down on top of you as you laid back, gazing up with heavy-lidded eyes. He searched your face, as if double-checking for something, needing to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that nothing was wrong—you were only sulking. 

“You got it, sister,” Hancock replied coyly, the fullness of a finger returning to you as he tested the waters; you were still so unbelievably wet. It was a stark contrast to the dry, desolate landscape that stretched for miles just beyond his little town, the ghoul humming in gratitude as you kissed him once again. 

You wasted no time, slipping your hand between the depression of your bodies where hip meets hip, his weight a warm, inviting presence that comforted you like nothing else. Your fingers toyed with his variegated shaft, thumbing a bead of loosed pre-cum to moisten its tip; Hancock moaned lustfully as he buried himself deeper into the column of your throat, teeth raking tender flesh, barely withholding the intention to bite.

“I’m thinkin’ you must be the single best thing to ever happen to me,” Hancock confessed in a dulcet whisper, voice quavering with emotion as you carefully escorted his cock inside you, one delicious inch at a time. Jagged breaths found their way into your ear, distorted, ribbed flesh, more than adequate in length and girth, stretching you open, a subdued sound of longing and relief birthed from parted lips. 

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to keep your feelings at bay, any and all movements ceasing before they had wholly begun.

You had closed your eyes; they fluttered open, fear wheedling its way inside your heart as Hancock gazed at you in silence. You cursed yourself, having never before expressed such a sentiment out loud, unsure how the man would take it, or if he even felt remotely the same—all signs pointed to yes, but you refused to be presumptuous. 

Then, he pushed up into your tight cunt with one slow, smooth stroke of his cock along your anterior walls, stimulating your G-spot. Pleasure radiated through you as you emitted a stilted breath, Hancock cradling your cheek, resting his forehead against yours to stare penetratingly into your eyes.

“Took you to be smarter than this, but I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that,” he breathed against your lips, slipping a motile tongue into your mouth, wanting to desperately deepen your connection. 

You readily accepted, your own tongue writhing and contracting in unison with his, heart beating fervently behind a wall of blood and bone. Your fingers clawed and grasped at his narrow shoulders and the tendinous flesh of his back, exploring every inch of your ghoulish lover, from head to jutting hipbone.

Hancock drove his cock into you, back and forth, keeping a steady, equal rhythm like the beat of a drum. “Why now?” he asked, voice tempered, each pump of his thick prick inside you unhurried and sensuous.

“Nearly dying may have had something to do with it,” you jested in-between indecent, muted moans, Hancock’s deliberate pace driving you toward orgasm. The arm not supporting his weight curled tightly around you. He clutched you to his chest, and you wrapped your thighs around his waif thin waist in return. 

“Mmn.. that it?” Spindly fingers moved to grip the back of your head, digging into tufts of your hair; your back bowed to support you in joining with him more fully, Hancock massaging your scalp as he massaged your insides, debauch, rich sounds filling both your ears.

“And because I have nothing to lose,” you reluctantly answered, breath picking up speed as you pushed back against firm, rawboned pectorals with the palm of your hand; you had the intention of arranging yourself at just the right angle to please— a simple slant of your hips would make things all too easy.

Within moments, you came, pinpricks of light overwhelming your senses. You were elated, as if your consciousness had been overtaken by a nebulous cloud of love and electromagnetic radiation, a soul set adrift in a swirling haze of thoughts, feelings and emotions that would amalgamate into something beautiful—it caused you to cry out a sound of intense, heartfelt bliss. 

Your mind went blank, only registering that John had simultaneously shared in the experience. It would take you both a moment to calm.

Then, you squeezed Hancock tightly between your legs, a signal for him to not withdraw, but to stay awhile, the tension in your body settling as you laid back down.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Hancock would smother you with his scant weight, caressing the point of your chin, his thumb snaking across your bottom lip. He gave a faint exhalation of breath, the concave outline of his nasal cavity grazing the convex shape of your nose; it tickled.

“Nothing to lose but each other.”

#john hancock #hancock #john hancock x reader #hancock x reader #ghoul #fallout ghoul #fallout 4 #FO4 #x you #x reader #oneshot #self insert #fanfiction #fallout fanfiction #fallout smut #my writing #fluff #romance #hurt and comfort #happy ending #pwp #angst #cooper Howard ain’t got nothing on this guy #😝

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Something Wicked | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implications of verbal parental abuse

Word Count: 4885

Series Rewrite Masterlist

The two boys were bickering over coordinates Dean had received from an anonymous number. 

“Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy.”

“Well, I'm telling you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what.”

“Well, maybe he's going to meet us there.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.”

You sighed. You weren’t about to get in the middle of this argument and tuned the rest of it out. Alas, Dean won the argument, as he often did. 

You stopped for some coffee along Fitchburg’s main street. The town itself was small, but it was quaint. A little too Middle America for your taste.

“Well… the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, no one's heard about anything freaky going on,” Dean sighed, handing you and Sam your respective coffee orders.

“Dean, you got the time?” you asked him.

“Ten after four. Why?”

You nodded in front of you at the playground you were looking at. “What's wrong with this picture?”

It was deserted aside from one child climbing on the jungle gym.

“School's out, isn't it?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. So where is everybody?” Sam added. “This place should be crawling with kids right now.”

You and the Winchesters walked over to a woman on a park bench reading a magazine. Dean approached her, saying, “Sure is quiet out here.”

The woman sighed, “Yeah, it’s a shame.”

“Why's that?”

“You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing.”

“How many?”

“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching,” she explained.

All four of you watched the little girl playing by herself, and the wheels in your head began to turn. Why would John send you all the way to Fitchburg over a few sick kids?

The three of you made your way up to the pediatrics ward of the hospital to investigate the sick children. Dean and Sam donned suits, and you wore a pencil skirt and heels. You couldn’t lie to yourself, Dean looked amazing in his suit, but you much preferred his usual leather jacket and biker boots. 

“See something you like?” Dean smirked at you.

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. He just snickered in response while your cheeks burned.

A doctor approached you and the boys before Dean could taunt you any further. You introduced yourselves and headed down the corridor with the man. “Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker,” Dean said.

“Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, some GP— I forget his name— he called Atlanta, and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch,” Dean lied.

“So you say you got six cases so far?” you asked.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now…”

“What?”

“The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are... wearing out.”

“Wait, but are there any signs of leukopenia?” you asked. “Any history in these kids of that?”

Dean looked over at you, confused by what you were saying. You continued to talk to the doctor.

“No, actually,” Hydecker answered. 

“What about neutropenia?”

He shook his head as a nurse handed him a clipboard full of papers.

“Then, whatever this is would have to be attacking the bone marrow as well as the respiratory system… Have you done biopsies?”

“No, we haven’t,” Hydecker answered. “I’ll give that a try.”

“You ever seen anything like this before?” Sam questioned.

“Never this severe,” the doctor said. “And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another.”

“You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean questioned.

“They’re not conscious,” the doctor replied.

You were shocked. “None of them?”

“No.”

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” tried Dean.

“Well, if you think it'll help.”

“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?”

Hydecker directed you to a man sitting on a chair against the wall in the waiting room. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He explained to you the oldest girl was first, and then his youngest. He told you that her window had been opened, but there was no one who could’ve done so except for his daughter because her room was on the second floor. 

You and the boys headed out of the pediatrics ward and back toward the car. 

“(Y/N), how’d you know all that stuff?” Sam asked you, referencing your conversation with the doctor.

“I like to read,” you shrugged. Sam smiled at your response and walked a little ahead of you. 

Dean came up next to you. “You were really serious about nursing, huh,” he said softly enough so Sam wouldn’t hear.

“I guess. I really do just like to read, though,” you smiled. “I think I just wanted to stick it to my dad. I always thought I’d be happier not hunting. But, uh, I just don’t think I could ever go back to being ‘normal’.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he responded. 

Sam turned back to you and his brother. “You know, this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia.”

“No way,” you shook your head, “pneumonia wouldn’t be lowering white blood cell count. It’d have to be elevated for it to be true pneumonia. Infection and all that.”

Sam hummed. “Okay, so then what’s your theory?”

“Honestly? Not sure.”

“I'll tell you one thing,” said Sam. “That dad we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home.”

***

“You got anything over there?” Sam asked Dean. The three of you had climbed through the home of the last two kids who had gotten sick looking for clues.

“Nah, nothing,” the older brother answered.

“Yeah, me neither,” you chimed in. You moved over to the window and paused. “Hey guys? I really don’t think it’s pneumonia.”

The boys came over and followed your line of sight to a rotted handprint with long, tendril-like fingers. 

“What the hell leaves a handprint like that?” Sam asked.

Dean seemed to get pulled away into his own mind for a moment before he began to look a little sick. “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.”

Dean raced down the stairs to the window on the back of the house you’d climbed through. You followed him close behind. You would ask him what had happened to him in the little girl’s bedroom later.

Dean explained to you on the ride to the motel what he thought you were hunting: a shtriga.

“So what the hell is a shtriga?” Sam asked as Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. This motel was a little cuter than the ones you’d visited previously; centered around a white cabin with green shingles. 

“It's kinda like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em,” explained Dean.

“Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.”

“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen, seventeen years ago. You were there. You don't remember?”

Sam shook his head.

“And I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates,” Dean went on.

“So wait, this…” Sam paused, waiting for Dean to remind him how to pronounce it.

“Shtriga.”

“Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.

“ ‘Cause it got away.”

Sam scoffed. “Got away?”

Dean was beginning to get frustrated, and you knew it was a cover-up for whatever was going on inside his head. “Yeah, Sammy, it happens.”

“Not very often.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning,” snarked the older brother.

“What else do you remember?”

“Nothin'. I was a kid, alright?” Dean said defensively. You followed him into the motel lobby only to see a little boy watching TV in one room and a boy around ten or eleven walking out of it.

“A king or two queens?” The boy asked, looking between you and Dean.

“Two queens,” you and Dean answered quickly. “And one king, actually,” you added, stepping aside to reveal Sam behind you.

A woman entered smiling at you both. “Checking in?”

You nodded to her.

“Do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner,” the woman instructed the boy. 

“I'm helping a guest!” he protested, but turned away under his mother’s hard stare. “Two queens. And a king.”

“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked you.

Dean took out his card. “You take MasterCard? Perfect. Here you go.”

You watched him look behind the woman at the boy pouring his younger brother a glass of milk. And there he went again; pulled into what you could only assume was memories of himself and Sam.

The woman before you held out his card to zoned-out Dean, and you took it from her instead. “Uh, thanks.” She handed you the keys, and you nudged Dean to bring him back to reality.

***

Dean explained to you and Sam what shtrigas fed off: children, most commonly. The only thing that could kill them were specially designed wrought-iron rounds while the thing was feeding. They often take the form of something unsuspecting; like an old woman.

“Hang on,” Dean said. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far and dead center?”

“The hospital,” you noted.

“Now, when we were there, I saw a patient; an old woman,” Dean continued.

“An old person huh?” questioned Sam. “In a hospital? Phew. Better call the Coast Guard.”

You giggled at Sam.

“Well, listen, smart-asses, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”

You and Sam stopped snickering and looked up at Dean. He raised an eyebrow at you.

And so, you headed to the hospital. Fortunately for her— but unfortunately for your hunt— the old woman with the upside down cross on the wall was just cataract-ridden and crotchety. Upon your return to the motel after thoroughly freaking out the old woman, you pulled Dean to your motel room for a talk before bed.

“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on a chair in your room. 

You sat on the bed across from him. “Where do you keep going?” you asked.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I just realized how stupid that sounded. You keep, like, disappearing into your own brain,” you responded. “Like in the motel lobby. You zoned out looking at that kid and his brother.”

“Oh, that,” he said quietly. “I, uh, it’s stupid.”

“Dean,” you leaned over your crossed legs and rested your hand on his knee. “I’m asking you. It’s not stupid. I just care.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Dean,” you said. “You made me a pinky promise at that scary asylum. You promised you’d tell me. Please?”

He huffed out a small laugh. “You know how I said my dad hunted this thing before?”

You nodded.

“Well, I’m the reason it got away.”

“How? Didn’t you say it was sixteen, seventeen years ago? You would’ve been ten, dude,” you responded.

“Yeah, but it’s complicated. My dad left us alone in motel rooms all the time. He made me repeat to him what I was and wasn’t supposed to do every time he would go out on a hunt. Sam and I would fight over the last bowl of Lucky Charms from the groceries Dad got us for the week; y'know, stupid kid stuff,” he chuckled. “But it’d been days. I was climbin’ the walls, (Y/N). I had to get some air. I went to an arcade to just… blow off some steam, I guess.

"When I came back, the thing was over Sammy’s bed. I was frozen. My dad came in and shot it a couple times, but it got away. Dad just... grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga had disappeared; it was just gone. It never surfaced until now. Y'know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask." He looked away from you attempting to swallow his emotions. "But he, ah, he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen; I almost got Sammy killed.”

“Dee, you were a kid,” you said softly. He went to cut you off, but you stopped him. “No, let me talk. I know how that feels. My parents left me with Stevie all the time. I would've done the same thing you did. We were kids. We had to take on parental responsibilities. Anybody would be going stir crazy, especially at ten years old like you were.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “You cannot blame yourself. I won’t let you. Would you let me?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly.”

He held your intense stare and rubbed a thumb over your hand. The two of you awkwardly pulled away from each other, and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, for, y’know—”

“Yeah, any time,” you said, walking him to the door. 

***

The next morning, you and Sam were teasing Dean about the old woman from the hospital the night before. You were headed to the car to go get some breakfast.

“ ‘I was sleeping with my peepers open’?” Sam laughed heartily, remembering the old woman's strange way of talking.

“I almost smoked that old girl, I swear. It's not funny!” Dean grunted.

“Oh man, you shoulda seen your face,” you giggled.

“Yeah, laugh it up. Now we're back to square one.” He looked over to the ten-year-old blond boy sitting on the bench behind his mother’s office. “Hang on.” He led you over to the child. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“My brother's sick,” he replied.

“The little guy?”

He nodded. “Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault.”

“Ah, c'mon, how?” You could tell Dean’s mind was racing just based on his tone.

“I should’ve made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't've got pneumonia if the window was latched,” the boy lamented.

You watched, frowningly thoughtfully, as Dean looked away from the boy. 

“Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?” Dean assured him.

“It's my job to look after him,” the boy frowned, tearing up.

His mother hurried out of the motel toward her minivan. “Michael, I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so don't bother with any of the rooms.”

“I'm going with you,” he protested.

“Not now, Michael.”

“But I gotta see Asher!”

Dean responded before his mother could. “Hey, Michael. Hey. I know how you feel— I'm a big brother, too— but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, ok?”

His mom dropped her handbag in haste, cursing under her breath. You rushed to pick it up for her.

“Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital,” Dean offered.

“No, I couldn't possibly—” she answered.

“No, it's no trouble. I insist.”

Michael’s mother handed Dean the keys and thanked him before addressing her son. “Be good.”

Dean turned to you before he went over to the car. “We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”

You and Sam watched Dean pull out of the motel parking lot, driving much more carefully than he ever did when you and Sam were in the car.

“C’mon,” you said. “You got the keys?”

“Yeah,” he threw them to you. “Where we goin’?”

“Wait, you’re letting me drive?” you asked Sam.

He shrugged. 

You squealed childishly and jumped into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t lie, you loved this car. You loved how the steering wheel felt in your hands and the way the engine rumbled. 

“Seriously, where we going?”

“The library,” you answered. “Town records, national records, internet, anything and everything. Dean wants this thing dead, and I intend to get it done tonight. And I gotta tell you, dude, something’s really bothering me about this whole thing. I mean, I never even formally went to nursing school, but I knew it couldn’t be pneumonia immediately. Why would pediatric doctors be unable to figure that out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get you. Something isn’t right.”

***

You and Sam poured through as many books you possibly could as quickly as you could. Sam was at his computer, scrolling with a furrowed brow when his phone rang. “ Hey. How's the kid?... We’re at the library. We've been trying to find out as much as we can about this shtriga… Well, bad news. I started with Fort Douglas around the time you said Dad was there?... Same deal.

"Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years, it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitzburgh. In all these other places, it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the shtriga finally moves on. The kids just languish in comas, and then they die… Ah, I don't know. The earliest mention I could find is this  place called ‘Black River Falls’ back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show.”

Your brain began to make connections between all of those events. “Wait, Sam, put Dean on speaker.” 

He did so.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to stay with me on this one. This could just be me spitballin’, but—”

“Just say it, (Y/N),” Dean said through the phone.

“I’ve been thinking, why wouldn’t Hydecker immediately rule out pneumonia? If he’s such a spectacular and caring doctor, why wouldn’t he know that pneumonia ups your white blood cell count; not depletes it? And the chance of all six kids having a pre-existing condition that lowers your WBC is incredibly low. I mean, why else wouldn’t he biopsy the kids?”

“Okay, WebMD, what does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked.

“I told you to stay with me.” You began typing in your computer searching for articles on the earliest case Sam had found in Black River Falls. “The point is, I think Hydecker’s our guy. Think about it— the center of the kidnappings is the hospital. And any pediatric doctor would be familiar with what pneumonia actually does to a kid’s body.” You smiled sourly at a photo you pulled up of doctors surrounding a child’s bed in 1893. You turned the computer around to Sam. “Boom.”

“(Y/N), that is huge.” He leaned over and lightly punched your shoulder. “Good going.”

“Thanks!” you grinned. “Dean, meet us back at the motel. Don’t deck the guy in the face, please. Not yet, anyway.”

“No promises,” he grumbled.

“Dean—”

“Fine.” He hung up the phone.

“Alright, we gotta get back before Dean explodes,” you told Sam. “Can I drive again?”

“Sure, why not. Just don’t tell my brother.” He tossed you the keys and you giggled.

***

“We should have thought of this before. A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing,” Sam said. 

You and the brothers were back in the motel room. 

Dean threw off his jacket and paced agitatedly. “That son of a bitch.”

“I'm proud of you for not drawing on him right there,” you said.

“Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.”

Sam nodded. “Good call.”

“Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing, ‘cause I probably would've just burned a clip in him on principle alone.”

Despite the situation, you found Dean aggressively grumbling about guns very attractive.

“You're getting wise in your old age, Dean,” Sam quipped.

“Damn right. 'Cause now I know how we're going to get it,” replied Dean.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Shtriga works through siblings, right?”

You knew what he was getting at. “No, Dean, I don’t like that.”

“What?” Sam asked, clearly not picking up where you and Dean were at.

“(Y/N)—”

“No, dude, we gotta get Michael out of here. I’m not letting you use him as bait.”

“Dean, what?! That’s out of the question!” Sam protested.

“It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.”

“Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook,” Sam scoffed. 

“Dad did not send me here to walk away.” Dean turned away from you and Sam and gripped the edges of the dresser.

“Send you here? He didn't send you here; he sent us here,” Sam replied.

“This isn't about you, Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.”

“What are you saying, Dean? How is it your fault?” Sam paused, taking a moment to calm down. “Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on.”

Dean proceeded to explain what he had to you last night. Sam gave him the same lecture about how it wasn’t his fault, but Dean began to protest again. “Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”

You were surprised at the tough facade he gave his brother in contrast to the way he was vulnerable with you.

“But using Michael— I don't know Dean. I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait,” Sam tried.

“No, it won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed— it'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid.”

***

Michael was completely against the idea and even threatened to call the cops on you. You and the boys returned to their motel room dejectedly.

“Well, that went crappy. Now what?” Dean groaned.

“What did you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid,” the younger brother sighed.

There was a knock at the door, and you opened it to reveal Michael.

“Hey,” you said, surprised.

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?”

“Honestly? We don't know,” Dean told him.

“You said you were a big brother,” Michael started, “You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?”

“Yeah, I would,” Dean replied quietly. Your heart swelled at how much Dean and Sam cared for each other.

The young boy nodded. “Me, too. I'll help.”

Dean had hooked up a security camera to the boy’s room, and you and he watched the monitor closely. You were beginning to feel cross-eyed from how tired you were. It was around three in the morning, and your body protested against your will to stay awake.

“You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?” Sam asked his brother.

“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah, it's what Dad used last time.”

“Hey, Dean? I’m sorry,” the younger brother said softly. “You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.”

“Oh, god, kill me now,” Dean groaned.

You giggled to yourself, eyes returning to the screen. “Dean, look.”

There was a bit of movement off to the right of the screen outside of the window. You and the boys picked up your guns, holding them tightly and waiting for the right moment. 

“Now?” you asked.

“Not yet.”

The shtriga moved closer and leaned over the bed. You could see Michael tense under the covers and draw them closer to himself. The creature leaned over the bed, pushing the covers down. 

“Now?!”

“Now.”

You and the boys burst through the door and began to shoot the creature after Michael rolled away. It flew off Michael’s bed and fell to the side you couldn’t see.

“Mike, you alright?” Dean asked the kid.

“Yeah,” came his muffled reply from under the bed.

“Just sit tight.” Dean approached the shtriga, his gun at the ready. There was no movement for just a moment, before the shtriga shot up and grabbed Dean by his throat, throwing him across the room.

“Dean!” you cried, trying to run to him. The shtriga threw you to the side against Michael’s bed. Your back protested as you tried to roll and grab your gun that had fallen out of your hand in the chaos. You noticed the shtriga leaning over the top of the younger Winchester. Sam’s body went limp and began to go gray as the shtriga began to suck out his life force.

“Hey!” Dean gruffly spat. The shtriga turned to the older brother just to get shot straight between the eyes.

“Nice!” you said. You rushed to Sam’s side and smoothed a hand over his messy hair while he tried to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You okay, little brother?” Dean called from behind you. You thought it was adorable how much he cared.

You and Sam stood and you tried to help hold the tall man up on his unsteady legs. You guided him over to the shtriga, and Dean shot it three times at point-blank range. The shtriga’s body fell in on itself, disintegrating.

You looked up at Dean, whose face was still set in hard lines.

“It's okay, Michael, you can come on out,” Dean told the boy peeking out from under his bed. He rose to stand beside you, smiling tentatively. Dean put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. You looked on, feeling your heart swell at what you knew was a full-circle moment for Dean. You knew these moments were few and far-between in a profession like yours, and you had learned to savor them in your memory.

***

You and the brothers returned to your rooms to pack now that the monster was dead. As usual, you were finished packing before the boys were and leaned against the Impala waiting for them.

You watched Michael’s mom’s car pull up in the motel parking lot. At that moment, the boys came out to join you.

“Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?” Dean asked the mother of the two boys.

“Have you seen Michael?” she asked him.

“Mom! Mom!” the child in question ran up and hugged him. “How's Ash?”

“Got some good news. Your brother's gonna be fine,” she smiled down at the boy.

“Really?” Michael grinned.

“Yeah. Really. No one can explain it; it's a miracle. They're going to keep him overnight for observation, and then, he's coming home.”

You smiled as Sam asked, “How are all the other kids doing?”

“Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town,” she explained.

“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” you asked.

“Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something.”

You shot a knowing look to the boys.

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked her son.

The boy looked to Dean before responding, “Nah, same old stuff.”

“Okay.” Joanna smoothed a hand over Michael’s blonde hair. “You can go see Ash.”

A wide grin spread across the boy’s face. “Now?!”

She nodded at her son, who ran into the car. “I, ah, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself,” she told you and the boys. The three of you watched as Joanna’s car pulled out of the parking lot. Sam and Dean turned to you and placed their bags in the trunk next to yours. 

“It's too bad,” said Sam.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“That's not what I meant,” he shook his head. “I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark— he'll never be the same, you know?” He paused. “Sometimes I wish that....”

“What?” Dean questioned.

“I wish I could have that kinda innocence.”

Dean walked to the driver’s side door. He leaned on the roof of the car and said, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn

hi hi! quite a few tags were broken :( please let me know if i've misspelled your tag! make sure you have notifs for my blog on so you don't miss an update!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[kellycataclysm]

How does harvey seduce lyra? What's his favourite way to bang her?

Okay so this was absolutely the most fun to write.

Here’s a little list of all the things he has in his repertoire, other than simply existing, with a few bonus head canons and thoughts thrown in. 

Setting the Scene. Lyra’s Harvey is romantic, polite, gentlemanly. The cliches work. He’d light candles, play soft music, bring her flowers, slow dance, watch the stars with her, open the door for her. Some may see this as old-fashioned, he just sees this as being sweet and attentive to the person he loves the most.

Words - Part One. Flirty banter. They’re smart dorks. The words are part of the attraction. Bonus points if there are bad jokes, puns, nerd chatter. 

Visual stimulus. Harvey will catch her eye with cliches that he knows work for her. The tie loosened, the rolled up shirt sleeves, a little peek of that chest hair, a spark in his eye from behind those glasses, and Lyra is FLUSTERED. Plus, he likes to look smart, even when he’s casual Harvey. So, if they’re out on a date you can be sure he’s looking smart and that moustache will be perfect.

Eye contact. The way he looks at her, like he’s still trying to figure her out but, goodness me, if he wasn’t entirely smitten from the second she walked into the clinic and awkwardly asked him for a neighbourly coffee. Plus, you can be sure he's going to do the finger hook under the chin for this, which leads to...

Physical touch - Part One. Harvey is all about the gentle caresses; he’ll hold her hand intertwining their fingers, touch her waist or the small of her back, brush her hair behind her ear, his fingertip lingering on those star earrings Lyra wears. The man is straight up handsy, especially first thing in the morning when they have just woken up.

Words - Part Two. Harvey has no problem telling Lyra that he loves her and saying things he knows will make her melt. We also know that she loves his voice. Deep, calm, firm but gentle. He’s well-spoken and to be honest, she’d listen to him read the phone book. 

Physical presence. Our man is tall in a way that makes her giggle and twirl her hair and he will use this to his advantage. He is 6'4. She is 5'3.

Slow. Sure, he’s ready to rock and roll with little more than a suggestive look from Lyra, because when he knows that she wants him, that definitely gets him going. However, Harvey loves to take his sweet time, setting the mood, making her feel like she is the only person on the planet for him, completely worshipping her. Then let’s also acknowledge that once he gets started, he is a massive tease. Yes, there are plenty of moments in which my spicy dorks are positively desperate for each other, but he loves to hear her begging for him.

Control. He’s bossy in the bedroom and she gets the full benefit of this. Making her feel good does it for him.

Physical touch - Part Two. Harvey really does have lovely hands and he knows exactly how to use them. You can guarantee she is getting off more than once. Don't look at me. I don't make the rules.

Words - Part Three. He loves to whisper things in her ear. Our girl has a HUGE praise kink and he knows this. He also loves to talk dirty to her. If the man drops an F Bomb in the heat of the moment, she will straight up dissolve. Readers may also have noticed that he only ever calls her Lyra when they are in adult situations. It is like she is in trouble. The best kind of trouble. 

By this point, Lyra is a mess and absolute putty in his hands. He can do absolutely anything he wants to her and whatever he chooses will make her feel incredible. (Okay, did someone say soft dom Harvey?)

So, his favourite position. Lyra’s Harvey isn’t afraid to be a little adventurous. There was the time with the mirror. The video call when he was away. The time in the woods. The other time she made him watch. The time of Harvey’s birthday in which there were many interesting things explored. Plus, you just know the desk in his office has seen more than just paperwork. He is also happy to try new positions. However, while he isn’t averse to bending her over the armchair, his favourite are the more intimate positions. The ones where he can hold her close (the man loves to spoon) and where he can look into her eyes and kiss her senseless. So, while he absolutely loves to pin her against a wall or have her on top of him so he can ogle her, his favourite and most frequently used is missionary. He’s in love with her and wants to watch as she falls apart for him, because of him. 

Thank you so much for sending this positively delightful question! It was so fun to answer! <3

#stardew valley #stardew harvey #sdv harvey #stardew valley harvey #harvey sdv #sdv #stardew stardust #harvey stardew valley #stardew farmer #sdv farmer #stardew lyra #lyra and harvey #stardust and harvey #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley headcanons #headcanon

[babsvibes]

Boblin Fic Recs

Fics centered around Bob and Linda from Bob’s Burgers. This is by no means a comprehensive list, so please feel free to add your faves in the replies!

Canon Compliant

I'm in love with every song you've ever heard by @jimmypesto When Linda has one too many Pesto Coladas, Jimmy calls Bob to come collect her

I like the way you sound in the morning by @jimmypesto Six "morning afters" over the course of Bob and Linda's relationship

What's That Song? It Goes Pike... by @babsvibes Linda has a song stuck in her head, and now it's everyone's problem

gonna make love last forever by @neopetting soft otp prompts with boblin

After Date Night With the Belchers by @thestarstho A look into Bob and Linda's alone time after a date

Mixed Collections

you're in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing by @jimmyjrsmusoems A few important moments in Bob and Linda's relationship, as seen through the eyes of others

Boblin Week 2023, Day Extras: Unused Prompts by @sailoreuterpe Collection of ficlets using the prompts not selected for Boblin Week 2023

Bob's Burgers Drabbles by @aimmyarrowshigh Collection of Bob's Burgers drabbles

Sips From Your Lips by Gaynin Linda and Bob have always enjoyed wine and spirits, almost as much as they've enjoyed each other (mature)

Things You Said... by @daddygrandpaandthebeaver A collection of Bob's Burgers ficlets based on "things you said..." prompts

Pre-Canon

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace by @jimmypesto Bob and Linda break up for approximately twelve hours; wallowing ensues

not while I'm around by @jimmypesto Bob picks Linda up after a girls’ night just in time to find her being bothered by a creep

i think we do this love thing right by @br1ghtestlight Bob and Linda try to cuddle without waking up Louise

Through a Child’s Eyes by YAJJ There was romance and love in the world, and Teeny Tina knew it for a fact. All she had to do was look at her parents, after all.

just lay entwined here, undiscovered by @tully-blue Tonight, it goes: shelf, doorknob, nightstand, undressing with three stumbles and several muffled curses, vanity, and finally, Linda climbs over him and into bed. Well, if he wasn’t awake already, that would’ve done it

Canon Divergent

still my patron saint by @jimmypesto A Boblin Ghost AU (explicit)

I belong with you, you belong with me (you're my sweetheart) by @daddygrandpaandthebeaver Five universes where Bob and Linda Belcher are soulmates, plus one where they chose to be together anyway

clair de lune by @weatheredlaw Five things that didn't happen, couldn't happen, wouldn't happen

Of Pregnancies and Bumped Heads by @burgerspeople Linda's second pregnancy puts her on her ass.

Had Me at Hello by @golden--doodler Bob and Linda's big day has finally arrived after what feels like forever.

Explicit

brought purpose to your hips by @jimmypesto Linda wakes up in the middle of the night

falling for you is easy (like sunday morning) by @thisaliennerd Maybe there’s no such thing as fate, but one chance meeting is about to change the course of two people’s lives forever. Bob and Linda are falling in love fast, but can they balance their feelings with the practical realities of dating? (explicit)

Cheesus the Meatsiah by @babsvibes The night Bob almost gets the Meatsiah right

know that body like it's mine by @jimmypesto Bob and Linda always use hotel rooms as opportunities to experiment

our love's the only thing that could matter (must be signed in to view) 31 days of my favorite married couple doing sexy things. Sometimes kinky and sometimes vanilla, but they’re always very in love

#babsbles #boblinweek24 #boblin week #bob’s burgers #bobs burgers #fic rec #fic rec list #boblin #bob belcher #linda belcher #Bob Belcher/Linda Belcher #‘oh I’m noticing a lot of Caroline on this list’ you think I’m going to put together a boblin fic Rec list that doesn’t star jimmypesto? #out of your mind #long post

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! Mostly about weird dicks and ehh having kids I guess…

characharing asked:

''Is Ruggie's grandma packing?'' OF COURSE SHE IS, ANON, GILF RIGHTS

Yesss!! POWERFUL GRANDMAS OF TWST!!

Anonymous asked:

Somtimes i feel like when I leave this blog for a few days, idia gains like, 270 new kinks

Exactly, now imagine how Idia feels. Every new day should feel like a holiday, but he sure is struggling lol

Anonymous asked:

Yesss, Riddle gets to savor all the exotic dicks whether he likes it or not as the Queen intended. Wonder which one he'll like the most? I feel like Deuce might also join in but probably by accident

I am a romantic at heart, so I would assume that Riddle’s favourite one would be the long, supple and slippery eel one. It just sounds right. 😌 It’s also probably the most unpredictable because it moves, and Riddle hates unpredictability, so we get a perfect match.

Deuce would definitely join in by accident, and he would probably feel kind of guilty for enjoying the exotic dick so much… maybe because of how much adrenalin and panic he felt when he experienced knotting for the first time, but his body reacts very strongly to Jack now. And experiencing one of the tweels would feel so weird that it would actually fry his brain for a couple of hours…

Che’nya should visit NRC more often. For no reason in particular, he just should.

Anonymous asked:

On the topic of parents, I was asking myself who would be the most likely to raise a kid together in canon in the future, and I think that if Kalim has kids he will definitely rope in Jamil, no matter the kind of relationship they have. His life would be even more at risk as the head of the Asim, so I can imagine he would try to get someone he can trust to become the legal guardian of his child/children in case something happens to him, and we all know that there is no one he trusts as much as Jamil. "And when I'll die you'll take care of them" "When!?". I don't know, it's just kind of funny to think about how even without Kalim, Jamil would still be stuck with the kalimlings (who probably don't even get along with da-, I mean, uncle Jamil)

Oh there is absolutely no chance for Jamil to get away from nurturing another Kalim, even if the first Kalim hires 10 nannies for the kid. For the sake of protection too.

“When I’ll die” lol so ready to kick the bucket and leave Jamil with kalimlings…what a word 😭 Jamil’s entire life is Kalim. Even if Kalim is gone, Kalim is still there. Maybe Kalim will do what his father did and leave 30+ kalimlings behind just so uncle Jamil doesn’t get lonely.

Anonymous asked:

out of the twst cast, who do you think would selfishly ~baby trap~ their partner? like tbh i don’t see floyd as the type, if anything a baby would make him fuck off lol

Yeah, a baby would absolutely make Floyd fuck off lol Which is ironic, because while I don’t see Riddle as someone who would necessarily do it, he gets pretty unexpectedly unhinged sometimes… I don’t see it, but I don’t not see it if that makes sense. It wouldn’t be a premeditated decision; it’s more like a crime of passion. If he manages to make a baby with magic somehow… the chances are super low, but considering how unstable Floyd can make him, never zero lol

To answer your question properly, I can’t think of many options to be honest, but two characters who came to mind first would be Malleus and Azul. My reasoning for Malleus: lay an egg => demand attention.

And Azul would do anything to tie a person to himself if he needs to; a baby would bring a lot of unnecessary expenses, but if nothing else works, putting a bunch of eggs inside his lover’s body is always an option. Wow, both of them are egg related…

We are talking about the boys here, but I feel like even if Azul was a lady, he wouldn’t want to get pregnant herself. The world would hear the most menacing “I’ve already paid the surrogate, Idia-san” ever.

Ortho could do it in a yandere scenario, I think. Sebek and Kalim are also suuuuper not likely, but somehow more likely than the rest of the boys.

#replies #headcanons

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Reckoner: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Your world is turned upside down when you get in trouble for something you didn't even do. The entire team is in uproar over this but Hotch says he will take care of it. Can he? Or are you doomed to live out the rest of your days in misery?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Justice without force is powerless; force without justice is tyrannical." - Blaise Pascal

"How is your knee feeling?" you ask Spencer when you walk out of the elevator.

"Still hurts, but the brace you have around it is helping. I'm not moving it too much."

"I might not be a doctor in medicine but I know a thing or two."

You two walk into the bullpen where the rest of the team is. Derek, Emily, and Penelope are huddled around JJ who is showing them pictures on her phone.

"What are you guys looking at?" you ask and set your things on your desk.

"Pictures of Henry."

"My Godson? Let me see!" You and Spencer head over to her and admire the pictures of her son. "Look at his chubby cheeks. He's so cute. You guys are still bringing him over this weekend, right?"

"Yes. Will and I are very excited to go out of town."

"Well, don't worry. Spencer might be crippled but we can take care of him," you joke.

"Hey!"

You look up and see Hotch and Rossi in Hotch's office with an agent sent from the Witness Protection Program. Everyone knows it's Jack's birthday so it's especially hard on Hotch right now. The agent leaves promptly, leaving both older men to talk alone.

"How he is doing?" you ask and nod to your boss.

"How do you think?" Derek sighs. "That agent came by earlier to show him a video of Jack. It sucks but that's about as much as Hotch is gonna get for it."

"We're gonna catch Foyet before something bad happens," you promise.

"We should get to the briefing room," JJ announces and puts her phone away.

You're about to follow everyone when you see several Virginia police officers walk into the bullpen.

"Excuse me, where can I find SSA Y/N?"

"Right here. What can I do for you?" you ask and step forward.

"You're under arrest for the murders of Juan Lopez, John Dimateo, Chase Williams, Eric Price, Jeffrey--"

As the officer is speaking, he turns you around and handcuffs your wrists behind your back. Your gun and badge are still on your person which he also removes. He says two more names which makes a total of seven people he thinks you're responsible for. The entire bullpen is in chaos as Spencer and JJ protest against your involvement, Penelope is just confused and asking why, and Derek immediately gets Hotch and Rossi involved.

"Hotch! Rossi!" Derek yells.

Hotch looks through the window and sees you in handcuffs. He and Rossi are out of their seats and out of the office in record time.

"Excuse me, what is going on?"

"Who are you?" the officer who handcuffed you asks.

"I'm her superior. What is going on here?"

"She's being arrested for the murders of seven men."

"Hotch! I didn't do it!" you say but they're already pulling you away.

"Wait, where are you taking her?"

"Virginia Police Department for questioning."

"Hotch! Spencer!" you say as they practically drag you away.

For five seconds, no one can say anything. No one can believe what they just witnessed. You? Murder? You dedicate your life to helping others, not to end their lives. You've had so many bad things happen to you and by doing good, you think you're making up for the bad. Why would you go out and murder seven people? When would you have the time to? If you're not at work, you're at home with Spencer.

After those shocking five seconds, all hell breaks loose. Everyone starts talking over each other. What is going on? Who are these victims? There has to be some kind of mistake. Y/N would never murder anyone. They've got the wrong woman. Even people who are not on the team start whispering to each other.

"Everyone calm down," Hotch says loudly. He turns to Rossi who is trying to keep a confident face on. "Take the team with you to Long Island." He addresses the team. "Listen, I'm going to go down there and figure out what's going on. In the meantime, there is still a case going on that needs our attention. JJ and Rossi will brief you on the case. When I'm done, I'll fly up there on my own."

"Let me go with you," Spencer says.

"Spencer, I know how hard it is for you right now, but I need you with the team. I'm going to take care of it."

Everyone hates that they can't be there for you right now but they understand where Hotch is coming from. When Hotch was released from the hospital, they all wanted to take care of him but stayed with the team and worked on other cases. However, Hotch was bedridden. You're in fucking jail.

After Hotch leaves and the rest of the team is getting ready to fly to New York, Spencer is still stuck in his spot. He can't seem to move from it because all he is thinking about is you. He wants to cry. He wants to break down at the thought of you being all alone in that interrogation room. Derek does a double take and walks over to Spencer.

"She's going to be okay, man. They have the wrong person. We both know this."

Spencer has to believe this otherwise he doesn't know what he is going to do. Everyone piles into the briefing room but it's like they are zombies. No one knows how to act because your chair is empty. Spencer won't be able to concentrate on a word JJ says much less anyone else, but she begins the briefing.

"Last night, Ben Vanderwaal was killed in Commack, Long Island. He was shot at close range once in the heart, once in the head with a .22 caliber. They found hair and blood trances from Ben's wife, Heather."

"Not Heather?" Rossi asks.

"No, she's still missing and presumed dead. The caliber and placement of the bullets match that of two previous victims. The first is Rita Haslat. Eight months ago, she went missing from her home in New Jersey. Four weeks later, she was found in a trash bin."

JJ puts pictures of what Rita looked like before and after being found.

"She went from that to this in under three weeks? She's totally emaciated," Emily says.

"Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles indicate she was constrained." Derek looks over at Spencer to see him staring at the desk. "One in the heart, one in the head like Ben."

"It sounds more like an execution," Rossi says. "What about the third victim?"

"His name is Bill Levington. His appearance was certainly altered."

JJ allows the others to read about what happened to Bill. There's no way she's going to put those pictures on the screen. Spencer grabs the file and flips through it but he's not really reading it. He's only doing this so he doesn't get in trouble for not paying attention.

"His genitals are missing. Though the method of mutilation is different in each crime, there is clearly a signature. The question is, what?"

"In Ben's case, his hands were taken. Bill's genitals were taken. Rita was completely different. She was starved, tortured, and executed. There's no sign of postmortem mutilation," JJ says.

"Why would he take Heather and not simply kill her?"

"Maybe he hasn't and she's still alive," Derek says.

"The only thing concrete is the MO which depicts an efficient no-nonsense murder. We need to figure out what each act of mutilation means to the unsub or to the victim. Wheels up in twenty," Rossi announces.

He gets up, takes out a file from his inner jacket pocket, and places it in front of Spencer. The noise of the paper slapping the desk is enough to break Spencer out of his trance. He looks at the file and then up at Rossi.

"What's this?"

"You told us you were cleared to fly. You lied."

"Naughty boy," Emily chuckles.

"No, I didn't. I am a doctor, so technically, it wasn't a lie," Spencer stutters.

"What was it, then?" Penelope asks.

"Second opinion."

"You're my bitch now," she smiles and walks out of the briefing room. Everyone else walks out leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. He allows his tears to fall now that he's alone. Penelope pauses when she hears him sniffle so she backtracks into the room. "Spence..."

"I'm fine," he sniffles and wipes his eyes.

"No, you're not. We're all not fine. She's going to be okay. Hotch is going to get her out of this."

"Yeah, I know," he whispers.

Hotch arrives at the Virginia Police Department sooner than he thought. He won't let you go down for something you never did. He's known you for around five years. He knows the kind of person you are, especially when you tackled him away from a car bomb and stayed by his side when he was stabbed by Foyet. He's not going to let anything happen to you.

The police department must know he was coming because they are on his ass as soon as he walks through the front door.

"You can't be here. You have no authority. This case isn't Federal," the arresting officer says.

"Like hell, I can't. I am her boss. She has rights."

"Which have been read to her. She hasn't lawyered up."

"There is a big misunderstanding here--"

"There is no misunderstanding. Y/N committed these crimes and didn't try to hide it very well."

"With what evidence?"

"Oh, we got a buttload of evidence and it all points to her. Sorry, but you're not on the case. I can't release that kind of information."

"I need to see her. I have a right to talk to her as her superior and as a lawyer."

The officer knows he's not going to win this argument so he decides to let it become his supervisor's problem.

"Be my guest."

The officer leads Hotch to where you are. They took you to one of the interrogation rooms as soon as you arrived, and you've been sitting here with an incompetent officer asking you questions. You're handcuffed to the desk even though you've shown no signs of being violent. You've complied with all of their rules but you haven't said a word to them. You know how interrogations work. You know how someone can incriminate themselves just by talking. You're going to let them get all their questions out before lawyering up.

"Care to explain to us why we found your DNA on all seven men?" No answer. "All seven men were murdered with different weapons that we traced back to your apartment. Your possession. Care to explain?" No answer. "My question is how did you manage to murder seven very fit and strong men that brutally? You're an FBI agent. You must know how to cover your tracks, no?"

"I want my lawyer."

The officer sighs and closes the file they have on you. He can't ask any more questions until your lawyer arrives. He chooses to leave the file there and exits the interrogation room. You immediately grab the file and look through it to see what they have. All seven men were brutally murdered like he said, but you didn't think it would be this bad. You're a strong woman but not strong enough to do this kind of damage.

Each man was killed with a different murder weapon--all that you recognize. They're items from your and Spencer's apartment. A kitchen knife that JJ gave you as a set for you moving into Spencer's apartment, a worn-down hammer you got from your parent's house to put up more shelves, one of your heels that Spencer got you as a present just because he loves you, the fire extinguisher you keep underneath the sink, the iron you keep in the bathroom, one of your phone chargers, and a box of Spencer's matches.

All of these items can come back to you since you're the one who bought them all besides the heels. Who are these men? Who actually killed them? They were all killed in close proximity to your home and work, so whoever killed them must be local to the area. Why frame you for the murders? What does this person or people get for framing you? There are a whole lot of questions that the police aren't asking.

It seems like all they see is murders, some DNA that belongs to you, so you must be the killer without asking the important questions. The door opens and you quickly close the file and return it to the spot in which you found it. You go back to the stoic look on your face but that drops when you see Hotch at the door.

"Hotch!" He closes the door to give you two some privacy even though you know someone is watching you. "I didn't do it. You have to believe me."

"I know. I believe you," he nods and sits across from you, "but someone did and they really want you to suffer for it."

"I've never even met these men in my life. I don't know who they are. How could I have murdered them? I practically live at the BAU."

"They say they have strong evidence against you but they're not saying what it is. I'm not your lawyer."

"How's Spencer?"

"As much as you'd expect him to be. He wanted to come here but the team is on a case on Long Island."

"Hotch, what do I do?" you sigh with tears in your eyes.

"I'm going to do everything I can to get you out of here. It's just a matter of time. You might be spending a few days with PD."

"Yeah. You should go to Long Island and help the team. Like you said, they're not gonna let me leave anytime soon. I'll probably still be here when you get back."

"I can stay here."

"Hotch, go help the team. People are dying. I'll be fine."

"Okay."

Hotch gets up to leave but you stop him before he can.

"Tell Spencer I am okay. My family has a lawyer I am going to use. Tell him I will be home soon."

"Alright."

As soon as Hotch leaves, your confident shell fades away. You're not sure if you're going to be okay. PD has their suspect in custody. They're not going to let you go easily. 

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

[exhausted-archivist]

Heights Based off Official Model Scales, Dev Words, or Lore specified

Updated: 05/2024

I find it delightful and fits into the feral and desperate need I have for Thedas to be experiencing mega fauna and flora. Important note, the only height that is canon is Bull's as it is mentioned in the lore books World of Thedas vol. 2. The rest are based off scaled models and dev words; the latter up to personal preference on how canon that is.

I've also updated these since the last post as wonderful people reached out and gave me their numbers as well as updating Dorian's height to what his character model height is based on Gaider's tweet.

Going from shortest to tallest we have this:

Varric - 5' - 5'3 / 152.4-160.02cm [Source]

Morrigan - 5'8 / 172.72cm (Sans heels) [Source]*

Alistair - 6' / 182.88cm [Source]

Dorian - 6' / 183cm *

Solas - 6' / 182.88.cm [Source]

The Iron Bull - 8' / 243.84cm*

Elaboration (Below the Cut)

Varric:

Varric's statute details included below. I used the range because when I previously posted about heights there were disagreements on his height. But it also led to several people giving me their measurements on the statue! Which thank you so much for sharing! Measurements can vary wildly, so the more data is always better.

Additionally, the 153cm / 5' height is echoed by his in-game model, so I think that is a definite minimum for his height.

Morrigan:

Morrigan's statue details and the help of a friend who has her statue, gave us the numbers for Morrigan's height with and without heels. These numbers are also echoed in her in-game model of 173.81cm / 5'8 sans heels and 178.44cm / 5'10 with heels. (Please excuse the lack of a face on her. For some reason my blender says it is an invalid file and I can't figure out how to fix it.)

Alistair:

The Sideshow listing and the manufacturer Three Zero listing give two numbers 12.5" and 12", with the latter being the one repeated the most.

I will note that there are some issues with the provided numbers as 12" is 30.62cm and the listing states he is 32cm which is 12.5". But considering previous conversation on the matter and that cm in scaling of these items seem a bit more unreliable in the actual size of the product (they are approximates after all) I chose to stick with the provided measurements in inches due to it matching up with his in-game model height of 183.5cm / 6' (technically its 6' and 1/16 of an inch but rounding down here).

If you want to choose to stick with the cm measurements, on 1:6 scale, 32 cm would be 190.5cm / 6'3 for Alistair.

Dorian:

When asked about Dorian's height, David Gaider specified that: "He is as tall as the character artists made him." [Source]

Originally, I had put Dorian's height at a range due to the fact he is the ideal proportions at 8 heads tall which by modern industry standard means he's 6'2, but by earlier standards means he's 6'. But now that I have access to the character models used in-game and blender, we know for certain his height is supposed to be 6' / 183cm.

Solas:

So the listing images gave off a very incorrect estimate of height, but kind of to be expected when they photoshop soda cans in. Thanks to the many people who sent me numbers, here and on other places. Solas from front foot to head is 18" / 46.5cm of his 20" / 51cm statue.

This height of 6' is also echoed by an old tweet from Trick Weekes saying Solas was 6'-ish ft.

The Iron Bull:

In World of Thedas vol. 2 p. 255 they have the description that he is 8' tall.

Everyone in the Chargers is someone who can look at an eight-foot horned giant and say, 'Yes, I trust that man with my life.'

If you're wondering if that includes the horns? Up to you, it's not specified. If you want to do sans horns, according to the scaling of his statue, they math out to adding roughly 5". Which would make him 7'5 (226.06cm).

It took a lot of math on my part, measuring his calf, thigh, and then up from there. But he does measure to 8' / 243.84cm when you scale the number of 62cm / 24".

Additional Notes:

For transparency, as noted in this post on in-game character model heights for Inquisition, Solas is noted to be 5'10 / 179cm and Iron Bull is 6'9 / 204cm. These are at odds with the dev word and lore notes, so they aren't used for comparison here. As there are likely game reasons/limitations they do not have wholly unique character models in terms of height. (Such as doorways, animation differences, armor, ect.)

#dragon age #meta #gaming heads #alistair #alistair therin #dorian #dorian pavus #morriagan #iron bull #the iron bull #solas #varric #varric tethras #To reiterate #the only canon height is Bull's #The rest are just assumptions based on official merch and game models

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Pretty little letters 2

Dbf Negan x fem reader

Synopsis - After finishing college you decide to on a gap year to take a breather after many years of hard. Setting out to travel the country, you promise to write to your dad every week, what happens when his best friend Negan makes you promise to write to him too.

Warnings- No apocalypse AU, dads best friend, large age gap, feelings, love confessions, adventures, reader travelling, reader described as female, mentions of cheating, Negan is the one cheated on in this fic by ex wife, struggles with feelings, dad finding out about relationship, some angst, obviously not canon at all, smut in this chapter, p in v, unprotected sex, both reader and Negan are consent king and queen. So yeah 18+ only please.

Let me know if I’ve left anything out

Word count - 6.1K (sorry another long one)

This is two of two chapters in this mini series.

_______________________________________

Waking up the next morning was a task in itself, your head was pounding, and the light filtering in from the cheap motel curtains was making things worse. You looked over at the wall clock 9:00am, pulling yourself up with a groan you headed for the shower, once in you began lathering yourself with soap to remove the stale alcohol smell. God last night was a blur, a few flashbacks start filling your mind, you remember sitting with a few women who invited you to their booth for some drinks, and you remember leaving before they dragged you onto the dance floor.

As the warm water spray roused you more you remember staggering home and passing out, ‘could have been way worse’ you think to yourself. After brushing your teeth and packing up your room, you grab your phone and car keys and make your way into town to find somewhere to eat. Maybe a good breakfast will help, although luckily your head hurts more than you felt nauseous.

Walking into a cute little diner you sit down and ask the waitress for pancakes, whilst waiting for your breakfast you pulled out your notebook and pen, deciding it was the perfect time to write your letters, it’s been a while since you’d written properly to your dad, and after your conversation with him last night you felt guilty. Thinking back on the phone calls of last night though your stomach drops, Negan and his date, argh! Surely he won’t go? He really didn’t seem that keen on it, you needed to put it out of your mind today, just be in the moment of the day! So you write your dad a little letter explaining where your off to next, before moving on to Negan's.

Hey Negan,

I’m currently sat in a cute little 50s style diner, I’m hoping breakfast cures this hangover a bit.

Maybe I had a little too much fun last night, though sitting with the middle aged women having a girls night seemed to be the right call, as I made it back to my room in one piece!

I’m going to head through New Mexico today on my way to LA, planing some stops on the way though. Going to stop in Arizona and see the Grand Canyon, I’ve always wanted to see it, maybe visit my best friend Gemma who lives in Tucson now, her and her husband have recently bought a puppy so I’m gonna be right in there!!

I hope you and dad are doing well this week, I miss you both a lot today, and please make sure dad doesn’t burn the garden shed down with his BBQ this weekend!

With love

Y/N

Xxx

On your way back to the car, you post the letters in the postal box on the sidewalk. The warm breeze kisses your skin as you walk, leaving goosebumps in its wake, it’s a beautiful day and you take pleasure in the little things that morning. Birds chirping, children laughing in the streets, a man who is dancing down the road with his headphones blaring out classic rock, not a care in his mind as to who may be watching.

Once back in your car you set your sat nav for a small town in the Gila National Forest, New Mexico and hit start, you’ll see how far you can get in a day, as you’re excited to get to Arizona. Whilst turning up your music you hear your phone buzz, ‘I’ll get that later you think’ eager to get going this morning, you have a long drive ahead of you.

_______________________________________

The flight had been awful, he was squished between a screaming child and a sweaty bald man, who felt it appropriate to tell Negan his life story. So once he had stepped through customs he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, good god he thought that was hell, but at least he will be with you in just shy of an hour, checking his watch he checked the time 8:30am he had time.

Once he secured a taxi he gave the man the motels address and counted the minutes down, he couldn’t wait to pull you into his arms and tell you he felt the same, that there’s no way he’s going to go on this date, that the only women he wants is you. Checking his watch again 9:35am and only 10 minutes until he’s at the motel, he ran over in his mind again everything he needed to tell you, he hasn’t ever declared love to someone before and he wants it to be perfect. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, he’s so nervous and he doesn’t know why? It’s you! He’s never been nervous around you.

“Here we are sir, Eunice south motel”, “Thank you” Negan answers, handing the man his money before grabbing his bags out the trunk, once the cab had left he made his way over to the reception, entering he found a young lad at the desk, he must have been 19 at the very oldest. “Hello sir, welcome to Eunice south motel, are you checking in?” He reads it out like a scripted monologue that’s ingrained into his brain. “Hello there, I’m wandering if you can help me, see I’m looking for a young woman, she checked in yesterday. She’s called y/n y/l/n, she is about this tall ‘Gestures with hand’ and she has h/c hair.” Negan asks.

“Oh yes! I do know who you mean, she was in room 27” the boy answers.

“What do you mean was?” Negan asks.

“Yeah well she checked out this morning, about 20 minutes ago actually, you just missed her” the boy nervously answers again.

Panic sets it, your gone how can you be gone already!

“Did she say where she was going at all?” Negan asks.

“Said something about finding some breakfast in town”

“Ok thanks” Negan responds before rushing out and calling another cab, hoping he can find you before you drive off. He tries calling your phone but it goes straight to voicemail. “Shit!” He mutters before deciding it was quicker to jog into town than wait for the cab to arrive. Hauling his backpack and duffle on to his shoulders he starts a steady jog into town.

Once he arrives he notices a 50s diner, that would be the exact kind of place you would go he thinks. Upon entering he asks the waitress if she has seen you, “Yes I’ve seen a girl matching that description, how do I know you’re not a pervert chasing her though hmm?” The waitress sneered, reluctantly Negan fished his phone out of his pocket, showing the waitress his Lock Screen, it was a photo of you and him, his arm looped around your shoulders pulling you in close, big grins on both your faces.

Negan was loosing time and patience, “Please have you seen her?” He asks once more. “Yeah I saw her she left about ten minutes ago, she left this accidentally” the waitress mentions, handing him your debit card. “Shit” he mumbles again, “She isn’t going to get far without that” he sighs. “Ok thank you I’ll see if I can track her down” he says as he leaves, your card in hand.

_______________________________________

You’re singing along without a care in the world, your phone is still buzzing in your pocket. You will check it once you stop for gas, you’d need to stop soon looking at the dash it’s saying there’s only 80 miles left.

Spotting one ahead you pull in, pulling out your purse when you notice it, your card is gone “Fuck!” You call out to no one. Luckily you noticed before you put gas in, pulling out your phone you notice you have 5 missed calls from Negan, that’s odd he doesn’t usually call that many times knowing you’re busy. You’ll have to call him back later you have bigger things to deal with right now, walking into the shop part you ask if they take Apple Pay, to which they state no. Groaning you go back out to your car, pulling it forward and out of the way of the pumps.

What are you going to do now?

You call your dad but he doesn’t answer, probably busy with work, you could call Negan back see what he could do, but he’s the other side of the country, there’s no way he could help. Sighing you close your eyes and groan, did you even have enough fuel to go back to the diner, that must be where you left it. But it’s 100 miles back and you only have 80 at a push! Checking google, there’s a town with your bank in ahead you could get a new card issued, that’s only 70 miles away, cutting it close but it’s the best option you had.

Searching your glove box for your phone charger you came across a scrunched up ball, pulling it out you found it was a $20 dollar bill and a $10 dollar bill. “Yes!” You cheer, that can definitely get enough gas to get me to the next town, once your car was filled as much as you could afford you set off once more.

Little did you know Negan was frantically trying to catch you up, now in another cab following the route that he was praying you took.

_______________________________________

You’d had success at the bank, another card would be ready for you to collect in the morning. They had also given you a cash withdrawal to pay for your motel tonight, all in all things weren’t too bad. You'd found a nice motel close by making it easy to walk over first thing, so with everything sorted you settled in your room for the evening.

Maybe you could find somewhere for dinner? You weren’t all that hungry though, you’d had a hell of a day and really you just wanted to rest. You’d spoken to your dad and assured him you’d sorted it, when he said he would leave now and come get you, you’d had to laugh though, he’d do anything to have you back earlier.

Laying yourself back on the beds itchy covers, you close your eyes, a nap may do you good.

Meanwhile Negan was going out of his mind, where were you! The cab driver was loosing his patience too, telling him to pick a motel and call someone else in the morning. He was just about to give up hope when he spotted your car in a motel carpark. “Stop! There! That’s her car!” He shouted, tears now filling his eyes from sheer relief! “Thank god for that” the cab driver muttered, Negan grabbed his bags with urgency, paid the driver and shot over to your car. That was definitely your number plate! He looked into the room behind the car, there you were, asleep on the bed safe and sound.

He gathered up all his courage before knocking on your door.

You shot up from the loud knock, it was heavy and urgent. You slowly shuffled to the door, as quietly as you could muster and peaked through the peep hole. Negan??? It was Negan, you grabbed the handle and swung the door open.

There he stood right in your doorway, with a face you couldn’t quite read, you usher him in closing the door “Negan what are you doing here? Not that it’s not good to see you! This is the best surprise ever! It’s just I’m confused why are you……..” your rambling was cut off by him flying forwards and smushing his lips against yours in a searing kiss, his hands found your cheeks as he pulled your body into his, after recovering from the shock, you threw your arms around his neck pulling him in even closer.

“I love you” kiss “So much” kiss “So Fucking Damn Much!” He punctuates between fierce kisses, you’re now struggling to stand upright, your legs buckling as so much emotion fills you, this is everything you’ve ever wanted. “I love you too Negan, so so much” you mumble against his swollen lips. He smiles against your mouth “I know, I got your text” you're confused now “My text?” You ask, “The one you sent me last night before you fell asleep” he mentions, now staring down at your beautiful face, memories start flooding back! You did text him, you told him not to go on the date and that you loved him.

Gasping your hand flies to your mouth, “Oh my goodness” you shake your head in embarrassment. “You were drunk weren’t you” he laughs, “Yeah a bit” you mumble still feeling incredibly flushed. “Hey” he moves your chin up to face him, “Don’t be embarrassed, I feel the same about you doll, I flew here! Chased you down in the back of a cab until I found you, god I sound like a stalker now don’t I?” He laughs, “No” you shake your head in disagreement, “I think it’s incredibly romantic, I’m so happy you found me!”, “Me too beautiful, me too” he agrees placing is forehead against yours.

“Oh I almost forgot! You left this at the diner” he mentions, handing you your debit card. “Oh ” you giggle, “I have already cancelled and replaced it, I’m collecting the new one in the morning.” You explain. “Hmm well maybe look after that one better” he laughs, you nod in agreement, before bringing your lips back to his in another passionate kiss.

Pulling him against you, you run your hands through his hair, slightly tugging the strands causing him to let out a low moan. Smirking at his reaction you do it again, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth in tandem. “Careful sweetheart, you’re going to start something you can’t finish” he groans, “Who says I don’t have every intention in finishing it!” You tease. He growls picking you up and throwing you onto the bed, before crawling over you and attaching his lips to yours once more.

You slowly start running your hand under his shirt exploring the planes of his toned chest, you can feel his heart thump under your fingertips, the rhythmic drumming grounding you, he is really here, this is really happening. “I love you” you blurt out once again, he smiles against your throat, “I love you too beautiful”. Moving your hand back down you tug at the hem of his shirt, “Are you sure sweetheart?” He asks, watching your features for any hesitation, “I’m sure Negan, you’re all I’ve ever wanted” you admit.

“Ok baby girl” he offers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before shuffling back to stand up. He smiles down at you as he pulls his shirt off, you sit upright tugging your sleep shirt over your head leaving your top half bare, before bringing yourself onto your knees. “You’re so gorgeous sweetheart” he admires as his eyes run over the exposed parts of your body.

You run both hands over his chest again, the look of love and admiration on his face as he watches you, brings up a mix of strong emotions. You’ve never felt so loved or so wanted in your life, the few college boys you’d been with before never took their time like this, they never made you feel this special and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Cupping your face in his large hands he pulls you in for another slow kiss, sweeping his tongue against your lips seeking entrance, which you grant happily, deepening the kiss. You move your hands downwards, fingers playing with his belt buckle, hesitating you break the kiss and look up at him, meeting his warm hazel eyes.

“Go on baby, I’m all yours” he whispers, that was all the confirmation you needed, you make quick work of his belt and jean buttons, before pulling them down his legs, he steps out of the offending material kicking it to the side. You lay back against the sheets lifting your hips, encouraging him to do the same to you. His fingers hook under your sleep shorts and panties before pulling them both off in one swoop, leaving you completely naked.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed he tugs sharply on your ankles, pulling them up and over his shoulders, bringing your soaked heat to his face. “This ok baby girl?” He asks, “Yes!” You reply pleadingly, lifting your hips a little as you speak, feeling like if he didn’t touch you soon you’d combust. “So needy baby” he teases, running his forefinger through your slit.

He groans when he feels just how wet you already are, “Shit baby, this all for me?” You whimper nodding frantically, “Negan please” you beg, becoming needier by the minute. He gives your inner thigh a playful nip before licking a firm stroke through your folds, you throw your head back with a breathy moan, fingers finding purchase in his hair.

He sets a steady pace, alternating between licking and suckling at your clit. He quickly learns what you like, as he starts working you open with his fingers, angling them upwards and reaching that spot that makes you see stars. “Fuck Negan I’m gonna come” you cry, reaching your peak fast. He works you through your high before pulling away and placing a gentle kiss to your hip bone.

As your catching your breath he pulls his boxers off and rejoins you on the bed, once more hovering over you. “Still sure baby?” He asks again, letting some self doubt fill his mind, he’s still unsure as to how someone as beautiful, young and brilliant as you, would want an old man like himself. “Yes, I told you, you’re all I’ve ever wanted Negan, please I want you” you answer, rolling your hips into his seeking that friction you so desperately needed. “Fuck baby girl, ok” he moans, taking himself in his hand he rubs the blunt end of his cock through your folds, before notching it at your entrance and sinking forward.

As your hips meet flush against one another you both let out deep moans, getting lost in the feeling of each other. “Shit baby you feel so good” he groans, “God I’ve thought about this for so long, I’ve needed you so much, can’t believe you’re now mine” he rambles, slowly thrusting in and out of your tight heat. “Fuck baby girl say it! Tell me you’re mine!” He begs, “I’m all yours Negan, fuck I’ve always been yours” you cry as you start meeting his thrusts.

The room is filled with the sounds of soft moans and broken gasps, you grab his shoulders pulling him in as close as you can, “Faster! Please go faster” you plead, moving your hips harder against his, he indulges you picking up speed, his movements becoming more frantic. “So close, don’t stop” you whine as the familiar feeling in your core builds, Negan moves his hand between your bodies rubbing your clit, causing your whines to grow louder, “That’s it baby girl let go for me” he encourages you, throwing your head back you give in to it coming hard, white hot pleasure cursing through you.

“Fuck! There you go baby, shit I’m close where do you want it” he asks, “Inside” you gasp another orgasm building, “I want it inside me” you affirm. His thrusts become rougher, rhythm becoming sloppy as he reaches his high stilling against you as he comes. You reach your high simultaneously, grasping onto him for dear life as you repeat his name like a mantra.

When your heart rates steady and the fog clears he looks down at you, removing a sweaty lock from your face, “you’re going to be the death of me, you know that baby girl?” You grin up at him, “Yeah but what a way to go huh?” You reply, he huffs out a laugh, “Yeah” he agrees, nuzzling in against your throat, “Let’s get cleaned up yeah?” He asks, “Yeah ok”.

Cuddled up in bed, drifting off in each others arms your heart felt so full. “I love you” you whisper before falling into a dreamless sleep.

_______________________________________

The next morning starts in a rather frantic rush, it was amazing to wake up beside the man you love, but you had a lot to get through. You’d managed though to go to the bank, collect your new card, grab breakfast together and pack up your room in just over an hour, leaving you feeling quite accomplished.

Walking out from your now vacant motel room Negan asks “So baby are you driving or am I?” You grin at him teasingly, “Oh you most certainly can drive! I want to relax. I’ve loved every minute of this trip, but it’s been heavy going” you admit. “You’ve got it sweet cheeks, today you can be my passenger princess” he proposes. You giggle at his comment as you enter the car, “So where too baby girl?” He asks, “Well I was heading towards Tucson to see Gemma and her new puppy” you mention, “Ok we will make our way there then, did you want to get it up on the sat nav?” He suggests. “But will you really want to come with me to see her?” You ask nerves settling in.

“Of course I do baby, I want to meet your friends, if you don’t want me to come with you, I can drop you off and collect you later?” He offered, “No I’d like to bring you with me, I guess I just got into my head” you sigh, “Hey sweetheart look at me” he says lifting your chin up to meet his gaze, “I am in this for the long haul baby, I don’t throw I love you around pointlessly, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you beautiful. So that means meeting your friends, your family and we do need to tell your dad.” He explains.

Your face falls at the mention of telling your dad, you would need to tell him, you couldn’t start a life with Negan and not tell your dad, and you knew Negan wouldn’t want to keep anything from him. The thought though terrified you, what if your dad can’t except it? What if he hits Negan?, shouts at you both? Refuses to talk to you? Fear sinks in your gut as you think of all the consequences.

“Hey darlin’ let’s not worry about it right now, but in the next week we need to tell him, yeah it may not go as well as we hope, but I can’t live without you, so we will have to make him see won’t we?” He asks, and he’s right, you cannot live without him either! You want the whole lot with Negan, a home together, marriage, maybe a dog? “Yeah ok your right we do need to tell him, just not today. Let us just live in this bubble another day?” You ask, “Yeah ok sweetheart” he smiles, before putting the car into drive and heading out to the highway.

_______________________________________

You’d reached Tucson by 2pm and after giving Gemma a quick call from an hour out, she’d told you she was home and excited to see you. Pulling up outside the address she gave you, your nerves were replaced by excitement of seeing your best friend again. As you got out of the car her front door was thrown open as she bolted out to meet you! “Y/N!!! Oh my god it’s so good to see you!” She gushes throwing her arms around you in a fierce hug, one you returned effortlessly. “I know!! It’s been too long! How are you? And where is this cute puppy I’ve heard so much about?” You ask excitedly.

“Oh he’s inside with Alex!! Gosh, I haven’t seen you since my wedding day home in Virgina! How’s your dad? Oh and your Nan? Are they well? We have so much to catch up on!!!” She rambles out without so much as a breath. You laugh at her antics, “Dad and Nan are both well yeah” you return. She looks up from you then and clocks Negan behind you, “And who is this?” She asks teasingly, grinning like a Cheshire Cat! You step back grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together, “This is Negan” you answer, recognition flashes on her face, “As in the Negan? Your dads best friend? The one you’ve been in love with for years?” She whispers into your ear, he hears though, laughing at her very loud whisper.

“That would be me, but I’m lucky enough to be her partner now” Negan replies, you smile at him and then back at Gemma “Sooo puppy?” You ask again, Gemma giggles “I swear you’re more excited to meet the dog than see me!!” She laughs, “Well yeah?” You offer smiling.

The afternoon was great, you and Gemma sit on her kitchen floor playing with the puppy, while Alex and Negan talk about guy stuff and you can’t help but smile at how easily he gets on with everyone around him, despite being a couple of decades older than you all. It all feels so effortless, and you can’t help but feel excited for your future together.

Once alone Gemma asks you “So you haven’t told your dad yet?”, “No not yet, it’s only been a couple of days that it’s been official you know? I wanted to live in this happy bubble before my dad bursts it. I know he won’t be happy” you sigh, “Well if you two were this obvious before, then I think he already knows, or is at least waiting for it to happen.” She offers, “What do you mean?” You ask confused. “Y/N, you look at each other like the other hung the moon in the sky, you are obviously very much in love, and that didn’t happen over night. I’m telling you he knows something, your dad isn’t a stupid man. I think he’d be more upset if you kept it from him now it’s happened, than the actual happening of it, if that makes sense babe?” She asks.

“Yeah, it does. I just worry because I can’t loose him you know?” You sigh, “I know and you won’t, you’re an adult remember? He can’t stop you both being together” she offers giving you a playful nudge, you nod at her giving a small smile. You are still worried though about how this will all go. Just then the men walk back into the room breaking your train of thought, “You’ll both stay for dinner yeah?” Alex offers, “Yeah that would be lovely thank you” you smile.

The journey to the motel that night was quiet, you were deep in thought and Negan didn’t want to pry and make you uncomfortable, he ran a gentle, comforting hand over your thigh. “We need to tell him” you blurt out, “My dad I mean, we need to tell him, Gemma is right, he’d be more upset about us not telling him than anything else” you offer, he gives a deep sigh glancing at you “Yeah I think she’s right too, when did you want to do it baby?” He asks.

“Tonight” you declare, “The longer we leave it the worse it will be” you decide. “Ok baby girl.” He agrees. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shitting it, but it needed to happen, he couldn’t have a life with you in secret.

_______________________________________

It’s been an hour now, an hour you’ve been sat in the motel room. Well Negan is sat, watching you from his spot on the bed, as you pace back and forth the room clutching your phone. “Sweetheart, just call him it will be ok, I’m right here.” He comforts, grasping your hand as you try and pace past him again.

“Ok ok” you give a deep sigh before calling your dads cell phone. “Hey kiddo! It’s been a couple of days, everything ok?” You dad asks, “Yeah dad I’m fine, actually I’m really good. I’m in Tucson I’ve just got back from seeing Gemma” you mention, “Oh that’s great honey, how is she it’s been a year since her wedding!” Your dad answers, “Yeah she’s good, her and Alex have a new puppy, he’s super cute” you say, “Aww that’s good, you spent the day playing with him then?” He asks, “Yeah that, and just catching up you know?” You reply, “Yes I know well how you two get when you are catching up” he laughs.

“So I have something I need to tell you” you say biting your nails nervously, “Ok kiddo? You ok?” He asks, “Yeah like I said I’m really good ummm, Negan’s here with me” you say, “Negan is with you? What as in right now?” Your dad asks and you can hear the confusion in his voice, “Yeah as in right now, here in my motel room with me” you say nervously, “Hey Mike” Negan speaks up, confirming he was in fact with you.

“Negan’s with you in Tucson? In your motel room with you? Why is he there with you? How is he there, he was here just a couple of days ago.” Your dad asks his voice becoming more frustrated while he tries to put together what is going on. “Yeah he flew out to me a couple of nights ago dad” you respond, you know you are beating around the bush, buying time but the anxiety is overfilling now.

“Put him on the phone Y/N!” Your dad demands, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea dad, just talk to me” you deflect, but Negan hands out his hand for your phone, reluctantly you hand it over to him. “Hey Mike it’s me” Negan answers, “Do you want to tell me why you are in a motel room in Arizona with my daughter Negan, because I am really struggling to understand this.” Your dad asks angrily, “Well it’s a long story, but in short she admitted her feelings to me so I flew to her to tell her I felt the same way” Negan answered, trying to keep as calm as possible.

“Feelings? What feelings Negan?” He was definitely confused, his mind not quite catching up with everything, or wanting to ignore what he already knows. “I love your daughter Mike, I have for a very long time, and I think deep down you’ve known this a while too” Negan replies, “Well I knew you two were close, and I had suspicions, but I never really put much thought into it. She’s young enough to be your daughter Negan!” Your dad shouts, “I know that, I know the age gap isn’t ideal Mike but I love your daughter very much. This isn’t some fling I want to assure you of that, I’ve never felt this way before. I want a life with your daughter, a home together, the whole nine yards.” Negan explains calmly hoping to make your dad understand.

“I’m going to need some time to come to terms with this….. I need to go” beeep, the phone line goes dead and you look down at Negan worriedly. “Come here baby girl, it’s going to be ok, he’ll come around” he says pulling you into his arms. “He just needs some time, we did the right thing not keeping it from him” he continues, kissing the side of your head.

Later that night while Negan is softly snoring behind you, you lay awake worrying. Your phone buzzing tears you from your thoughts, it’s a message from your dad.

Hey kiddo

I have to know how long has this been going on really? Xx

Hey dad

We were being honest, it’s been just over 24 hours, we couldn’t keep it from you. Although we hid our feelings from each other for years this is very new. I love him too though Daddy, I can’t live without him now, and you know he’s a good man, he won’t hurt me. I don’t expect you to understand it, I just hope you can come to except it.

Xx

Hey kiddo

Thank you for telling me from the start, I’m glad you don’t ever keep things from me. And I can appreciate how hard that was to do, I need some time ok? But I love you that will never change ok? Xx

Ok dad, love you too xx

_______________________________________

You both spent another two weeks travelling, you saw the Grand Canyon and it literally blew you away, but that niggling feeling in your heart kept twinging “We need to head home Negan, I need to see him and fix this, I haven’t heard from him in weeks” you say, “Ok sweetheart, let’s go home” he agreed, he hated seeing you so churned up.

Arriving back in Connecticut felt weird, seeing the familiar streets pass by in a blur, as you head to your home street. Pulling up in your drive you notice your dads truck is there, signalling he was home. Negan gives your leg a gentle squeeze “Come on baby, let’s sort this out yeah?” He asks, “Yeah” you sigh exiting the car.

Entering your house you take in its familiarity, you let that in itself comfort you. Taking Negan’s hand in yours you make your way through to the kitchen, you notice your dad in the garden mowing the lawn, no wonder he hasn’t come greet you.

You tap loudly on the window causing him to snap his head up, emotion filling his features when he sees it’s you. He kicks off the mower and rushes inside, you let go of Negan’s hand and throw your arms around your dad. “What are you doing home kiddo? Not that I’m not happy to have you home! It’s just your not due back for months” he asks, “I couldn’t be away with everything up in the air dad, I had to come home and see you.” You admit.

Your dad looks over your shoulder at Negan and then back at you before giving you a small nod, “Yeah ok let’s sort this” he sighs motioning for everyone to head into your living room.

“So I’ve had some time to think it through, and I guess I did always notice something between you both. I guess I just hoped I was wrong” your dad starts, his confession causing Negan to wince, “But you are both my favourite people on this god forsaken Earth, and I do want you to both be happy. So I will except it, but I can’t say I understand it” he offers.

You go to speak but your dad cuts you off “I also know that you won’t listen to anything I say y/n so there’s no point going there. It’s not like I can stop two adults from being together. But if you ever hurt her Negan I swear to god” he threatens, “Absolutely man, I’d expect no less” Negan agrees. “Ok then, come here kiddo” he offers pulling you into another hug. Then he turns to Negan shakes his hand and gives him an awkward side hug, “I’m trusting you ok buddy, with the most important thing in my life, you understand that?” Your dad asks, “Yeah I know, I can promise you I will love and cherish her for every day I have left” Negan affirms.

Your dad gives him a nod, “Ok then guys it’s Friday night, so pizza and a board game?” Your dad offers, “Sounds perfect dad” you smile, snuggling into Negan on the sofa,

Just like that everything was right again, you were home with your boys eating pizza and fighting over monopoly, everything was as it should be.

Taglist

@lanadelnegan @lunajay33 @akah565

#Dbf Negan x reader #negan x you #negan smut #negan x reader #negan smith #negan fanfiction #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan imagine #dbf x reader #dads best friend

[oifaaa]

Bruce: Perfect. Now my second son can wear full-body armor and pants when he’s following me around in Gotham. // Dick Grayson: Hey Jason. You wanna be cool like your big brother :)

Honestly I buy that the real reason why Bruce was against Jason becoming Robin was purely the lack of protection and then dick just shows up out of no where not only telling jason he can be Robin but gifting him the exact same Robin outfit dick wore short shorts and all

#ask #Dick definitely knew what he was doing #Also #I do find it funny that post crisis tried to have the same cute wee #Dick gives Jason the Robin outfit moment #But bc of time line stuff #Jason was already Robin for like a year #And dick gives him the exact same outfit he is already wearing as robin #So um yeah I've combined these two instances to make my new head canon #That dick just likes gifting Jason the exact same Robin outfit every few months #Like yes I still support you being Robin #A bi yearly check up to see if Jason still can be Robin #(excuse to bug Jason about how many flips he's can do) #Randox-talore

[sophiethewitch1]

dick 'theres got to be a logical explanation for this' grayson x reader 'i think I'm in a different dimension but fuck me if ill say it' not-wayne

#sophie speaks #series:www #dick is an overthinker its actually in canon. while reader. reader is doing her best to never have a single conscious thought in her head #together these two will make so many awkward silences you'll vomit #girl WHAT am i doing i wrote like. 1.5k yesterday and the two days before i wrote 0 #the disability is doing some disabling gang and im not happy about it

[quietwingsinthesky]

im just saying that a guy whose worldview is inflexibly based on the idea that the only two groups of people in the universe are the controlled and the ones who have the power to control them, and that there is no other way to exist, and who has done everything in his power to make sure he’s always in the latter group. i’m just saying that it’s possible this is not unrelated to. that time when he was used as a child by rassilon himself. its possible.

#and i want to be even more clear that this is not me trying to woobify him. you would know if it was because i would be much more annoying #about it. im not trying to lay this out as ‘the drums mean that the master’s actions are excusable actually. all those times he killed So #Many People was fine because he was hurt as a kid.’ #im trying to point out like. now that this is canon. now that this is a part of him. that it is foundational to why he would build up that #worldview at all. yeah? #i keep coming back to the powerlessness of that moment. of the drums. he can’t *do* anything about it. #but he *can* be the master and never be one of the weak people in the universe who ‘allow’ themselves to be controlled #he knows he’s being used in EoT and still expects the time lords to take him with them. because he’s on their side isn’t he? he gets to #ascend too doesn’t he? he gets to be as powerful as they do right? #but. that’s not what’s happening here. it’s what he’s built up in his head but the minute rassilon hits him with the truth. that they have #abused and used him and will now destroy him. just. augh. #a whole world under his heel and its not enough. it will never be enough. he has separated the universe into two parts and neglected to #realize that just because he can put himself in control of some of it doesn’t mean there aren’t other people who have a hand around his #throat still. and it drives me insane #the master #doctor who

[phoenixcatch7]

If there's one thing I like more than time travel it's crossover reincarnation, so.

Botk link reincarnated as Damian Wayne.

An incredible weapon master of all types, but especially prodigious with a sword - he was beating knights at the age of 4 and with his memories as intact as they get for him I can see that goalpost moving even further (probably with traps and tricks, a 3yo doesn't exactly have great bodily control).

He's an excellent survivalist, agile, strong, durable, cunning and creative. He can move like a feather in the breeze, strike from behind with ease. His first kill, an animal, did not stir him as it did the other children. With his poise, grace, skills, obedience, he ought to be ra'as' finest assassin in the making, a jewel in the crown of the league.

Except he never speaks a word. Half his targets escape unscathed. He skates by true punishment on the merit of his skills and achievements in other missions. Testing has shown it is not a physical deformity that prevents his speech, but not even talia has been able to coaxe a word from him past his second birthday.

It is a defect ra'as is growing more and more frustrated by, as each attempt to fix these two final flaws ends in resounding failure. Less extreme solutions are running dry.

Talia fears those solutions. Her child does too, she knows. For them, there is a possible solution, more extreme than anything ra'as would tolerate.

She sends him out of the league. To his father.

To Gotham.

#'gee phoenix that sure sounds like that dp x dc you're normally rattling on about' yeah lol I steal tropes and sell them on the black market #Anyway this has been slowly rotisserie-ing in my head for a while I just like shaking canon like a magic 8 ball #I'd love to explore how link would react to Gotham and how he might see getting suddenly dumped in a found family as the youngest #And how that contrasts with both his expectations in the league and his role as the saviour last hope of a whole country #Because that kid cannot have a modern interpretation of killing. Like monsters? Kill with prejudice loot the corpses. #The yiga might have a little more hindsight understanding and he never killed them anyway but zero hesitation blowing them up #And ganon is so far removed from the concept of 'killing is bad' because a) human??? Monster??? B) literally the problem #C) he's been killing people so it'd even out d) everyone wants him dead So Bad e) been killed already like a dozen times what's one more #I get the feeling he'd assign the same role to the joker like 'widely considered the source of all evil. 'died' several times and came back #personal source of absolute misery for several heroes. Killed many' = slay the monster. Straightforward. #Like yes link always chooses kindness and has a strong morality and Opinion on killing people it's just a lot would be solved #By hitting the joker until he stopped making life miserable for everyone and if that means permanently well that's kind of link's job. #And like with Jason the bats understand that a lot better than they pretend to. But that is a 10yo who should not be thinking like that. #I think it'd be interesting to see how that'd change their reactions to 'Damian'. Like he holds a very similar opinion to og and Jason he #Just goes about it completely differently. #And I'd love to explore the differences between two fictional worlds and how they can go from pretty much the most black/white morality #To probably one of the greyest areas while still holding near identical themes and methods of dealing with that. #Found family compassion as a weapon against evil and copious amounts of weapons and cool gear lol #Also link should keep the arm he's earned it. Reincarnating with all his memories knocked a few other things loose I'd imagine #Mostly because all the loz games I've played have absolutely altered the way I view any link and also I love referencing them. #Damian with telekinesis and infinite glue would be great. A tiny 10yo sword master choosing instead to drop a dumpster on you #In between hurt comfort link beginning to bond with his family and begin to speak and learn sign language from cass #There's also the sound of explosives and a small figure clinging to a flying door as it crosses the Gotham night skies #Speaking of cass I bet her and link would be great friends in this au. #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #loz au #Loz #loz totk

[goldenflurry]

I’m so normal about this duo /s

#okay but head canon time #these two teching sc #how to use their power #is a really soft thought #I’m ignoring canon /j #most of my coming art is probably going to be #about avm instead though #because I have more thoughts about it #and its a bit longer #as well I just have so many #art ideas written down #that goes with avm #and its storyline #golden’s art #ava #animation vs animator #ava the chosen one #ava tco #ava the dark lord #ava tdl

[fantasy-hoe-25]

Inside me there are two wolves. Savian/Lamb and Majud/Curnsbick. And they both demand fanfics to be written about them.

#listen you cant just say Curnsbick is canonically gay and take his stingy husband away from us #you cant #don't even fucking get me started on savian and lamb tho #i already wrote one fanfic and i have so many to write about them still #Abercrombie was just. working up to some gay shit. #like fr #you can feel the gay tension in red country #and then when the thought finally formulated in his head he was like. leo dan brock #and then he was like KING JAPPO #and im telling you it all started with one ginger machinist and a Kantic haggler #and two old men #one rebel and one murderer #tbh it happened even earlier #not just with terez but #also with monza sticking a digit up shivers #and him being like nah thats fine but theres somsone breaking in #i dont know where i was going with this #oh yeah Savian and Lamb are totally in love #first law #joe abercrombie #red country #the first law trilogy

[neptunite-stars]

i need to be stopped

#delete later #rambles #neppy's game talk #anyway ive got the cute lil chibi icons for like 5 characters now :D #aoryugrhgrhrghgr i wanan see whats in this fandom so badly.. but also im scared im gonna see some rly bad takes #but also theres like two sides to this game. the story/art and the gameplay.. im more of a story type guy but idm learning new kits i could #build :O but also like. theres this thing i have where i specifically dont wanna get into a fandom / read fics for a fandom/ship bc i fear #that theres gonna be bad takes and people are writing characters dynamics wrong and reducing characters to one single trait etc etc #to which i find that canon (and the ideas in my head) are good enough for me < this has happened with so many things #to name a few: tri.gun; gomens; hades.game; link.click and a couple of others #i just think Thinking About Them is better than diving deep into the fandom ykno. however this is not true for en.stars because there is #both not enough and way too much to read! anyway ill stop ranting in the tags lmao

[unblot]

@utsubotm : the first kiss is against his cheek, then another at his brow-- his forehead- his nose-- it continues until floyd stops to rub his face against azul's hair. he can't really curl around him the way he might had he been in his mer form. but both arms squeezing him in a hug will just have to do. / woe, flaz be upon ye

The sudden smothering is unexpected, but not entirely unprecedented. As opposed to his brother's preference of toying with his food before he eats it, Floyd often favors a more direct and hands on approach. Ordinarily Azul takes measures to prevent being either of their choice of prey, but Floyd just so happened to catch him off guard this time around. Yet even with all the measures he takes to be prepared every possibility, there's very little that could have helped him prepare for this.

Floyd's touch is overwhelming, Azul feeling the air leave his lungs like a helpless human dragged into the depths of the ocean. He drowns in Floyd's embrace, momentarily frozen & unable to fight against the sudden flood of something that had simply gone unspoken between them up until this point. Just as he starts to remember to breathe again, another biting kiss sears against his skin.

Floyd's placement of his kisses are not lost on Azul. Cheek, nose, brow, jaw, & so on. Practically every inch of exposed skin is accounted for, all except one. It confirms to Azul everything he already knows. This is not affection shared between loved ones, this is the attempted conquering of a predator upon prey. This is not love. This is possession.

Here they are at an impasse. Azul does not want to be claimed or controlled. And Floyd-- Floyd does not want Azul the way Azul wants to be wanted.

Floyd's grip slackens. At last Azul is able to find his breath again.

Their embrace ends just as abrupt as it started. Floyd is strong but Azul is stronger. So it's easy to pry the other off of him once he uses enough force.

The mer that Floyd is faced with now hardly resembles the suave & silver-tongued Octavinelle housewarden. In his place is a haughty & flustered octopus possesses all the clumsiness & idiocy expected of a teenage boy his age. His sleek hat has fallen from his head, the silver curls under it now disheveled and misshapen. Azul's glasses lay askew as well, threatening to fall off his nose before he hastily pushes them back up.

However, the most notable change to his appearance now is the deep blush painted across his cheeks and ears. A blush that Azul is doing everything in his power to ignore. Floyd may have succeeded in getting under Azul's skin, but he'll die before he relinquishes the power he's fought tooth & nail to possess. He won't let himself be devoured by anything or anyone, no matter how pleasant the sensation might have felt in the moment.

“ Floyd, settle down. ” Azul's voice is crisp, yet lacks its usual command as he steadily recovers from Floyd's ambush. “ There's no need to make such a spectacle in front of everyone. ”

It's only then does he even acknowledge the fact that they're not lone in the space. They may have closed for the night, but there are still a few bus boys cleaning a couple tables away, as well as a certain vice housewarden behind the bar. Even without looking he can feel his heterochromatic gaze on him, practically hear his low laughter.

That's all this is, isn't it? A joke, a game. Floyd only wants to make a mockery of him & undermine his authority. How stupid of him to be affected by childish antic. No matter, he won't lose himself next time. Floyd won't humiliate him like that again.

“ If you'll excuse me, I have to count the revenue made from today's sales. ” Azul smoothes out the creases from his suit, huffing quietly as he desperately tries to maintain his composure. “ Have a good evening, gentlemen. ”

With that he quickly strides in the direction of his office as fast as his puny human legs can carry him, careful not to spare a glance in Floyd's direction as he exits. Azul won't let him get the last laugh, he won't acknowledge the gleeful smile he's certain Floyd is baring him with that deadly maw of his.

Therefore he's unaware of the truth that lay behind him, turning his back on it without a second thought. And with the overworked bus boys focusing on their cleaning, the only one to witness the frown that falls on Floyd's face as Azul departs is Floyd's own twin.

#utsubotm #asks. #interactions: azul. #verse: canon. #idk if this even makes sense but??? #tfw you have so many issues w/ trust and your self esteem #that you fool yourself into thinking your crush is being affectionate to you to make fun of you #initially i was gonna have some kind of metaphor about floyd being like a cat nuzzling to display ownership but it felt too lighthearted at #*atp #sorry floyd he has issues #and has got it into his head that the tweels are out to get him asdfgfds #azul: yes i am attached to and love these two more than i can describe #azul: but they cannot know this because if im ever soft again i will get killed