#I really shouldn't have gotten her though and saved for something else

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Reacting To Your Tattoos

A/N: I have so many ideas for The Boys cast! Be sure to look out for more posts! I'm updating my request list to include them 😊 I'm sorry I've been a little MIA! I'll be getting back to requests asap! Hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher loves them. This is not the moment to say something, to react, but he definitely takes notice. You got hurt, really hurt, and the only way to save you was for Annie cauterizing your wounds, buying you a little more time. Butcher didn't need to hold you down, you'd already gone limp, losing all color in your face. He begs you to wake up, to stay with them. There was so much blood. So much red. He was covered in it, seeping through his shirt. Your jacket was thrown off, the collar of your shirt torn, ripped, for easier access to your shoulder and they both discovered the tattoos. Your chest, your arm, neck, you were covered. He had a feeling there were far more, wondering why you never showed any of them. You were always so bundled up, he never even questioned it. He warned you this was going to hurt, though he wasn't even sure you could hear him. Still, as Annie's hands grew bright, he cringes, hoping you were too out of it to feel anything, hoping this would all seem like a far away dream. Hoping you won't mind the large scar that will warp your ink.

Hughie is pretty intimidated by them. The Boys are already a scary looking group, but meeting you, he thought you were going to bite off his head. Your body was pretty covered. After getting to know you, he realizes how wrong he was. You're snarky and stubborn, but you're also thoughtful and funny. If it were up to you, you'd never hurt a fly, just Vought. Still, every so often you'll do or say something that reminds him of that first impression, especially when you feel threatened or your friends are threatened. You'll show up with a few new ones, filling in the gaps. When it comes to open wounds you're ready to treat it with a strong drink and duct tape. When it comes to your tattoos, you're meticulous in your aftercare. He's never seen you so serene looking as when you're taking care of them, so gentle. Something about that makes him feel like he shouldn't be witnessing it, but he's grateful that he is. When they're in tricky spots, he's the first to offer to help. He works with nervous hands, afraid he'll do something to ruin it. You just laugh, walking him through it.

Annie knows all about your tattoos. They are, after all, linked to the V in your blood. You didn't start developing them until your late teens, your parents assuming the V they injected was a dud. Images started appearing and with them, your powers. By the time she met you, you were covered. You didn't like showing off to The Boys. You still had a long way to go to gaining their trust. Parading around the fact that you were a Supe wasn't going to help. Still, when it was just you and Annie you were less reluctant to show her. All kinds of images adorned your skin: weapons, insects, animals. You liked the weapons the best. The thing could project itself from your skin as if it were real. In seconds, you had a sword in each hand, as real and sharp as if you'd physically gotten one. The best part? Your skin was indestructible. Every few months, maybe years, a new tattoo would appear, giving you a leg up in the fight against Vought. She thinks you have by far the most interesting powers of any Supe she's met.

M.M. hates them. Because they're linked to the V you got as a baby, he sees them more of a warning than anything else, the way brightly colored animals are poisonous. He hadn't realized the first time you met, what they were from, and you were smart enough not to tell him. It was only when you were fighting for your life did you use your abilities: the circles on the back of your neck, layered, you let out a sonic scream that shattered windows, set off car alarms, and drew blood. The group that had attacked you were coughing it up, it was running down their necks from their ears. M.M. was far enough away not to be affected, but the way he tells it, he was *this* close to having his insides turned to goo. Some were safe enough to run away. The ones who were closer dropped dead with a wet squelch. He trusts you even less for not telling him. When he breaks the news to everyone else, he's shocked to find out that they either knew (like Annie) or they were unfazed, more impressed than anything else, like you'd become this great asset. You apologize profusely, but you know it'll be a long time before he can even look you in the eyes.

Frenchie thinks they're so cool. He went with you once and got one of his own: while you were getting a rather large piece finished, he wants to get a smiley face on his ass cheek. Despite the discomfort, Frenchie's all giggles. He's more than excited to show this off to everyone he decides to moon. You try to tell him how to take care of it, but he waves you off. He's eager to show The Boys. He's lucky it heals properly and by the end of the week, everyone he comes into contact with has seen it. Besides that, his favorite thing is to study the ones you have. They're intricate and beautiful and some of them are pretty silly. You never understood the sentiment that there had to be some grand kind of meaning behind them. If you like it, you get it tattooed. He asks questions about them, most done all over the world or, a couple, in prison. He thinks you look badass, especially when you shed the bulky layers and show off what they normally don't get to see. Your back piece is his favorite. When you're wearing something with a low back, or disregard a shirt completely, he can't help but watch you. You're careful, covering them with clothes or makeup so that whatever illegal thing you're doing can't be traced.

Kimiko asks a lot of questions. Did it hurt? Why that image? What does it mean? How long did it take? You never mind, in fact you like talking about them. You spent enough time getting stabbed, you wanted someone to ask. She especially loves the ones on your hands. They look beautiful as you sign back to her. Some are still a little raised despite how well you took care of them, those are her favorite. She touches them delicately, afraid it might hurt, but you assure her they're all healed. She watches when you're getting changed together, how they move with your skin and muscles. They make her smile knowing you feel so much more at home in your body because of them, something you admitted to her late one night after a few drinks. They help you like yourself, covering up insecurities, making you feel cuter/cooler than you would without them. She's always the first to notice when you get a new one, making a point regardless of the situation to tell you how nice it looks and that she likes it a lot.

Bonus! Homelander thinks they're horrendous. Disgusting. Just another way you've defiled your body. He can't stand to look at them and made sure you understand that. Around him, you keep them covered, either by clothing or makeup. You know better than to draw attention towards them. Regardless of how you acquired them (Compound V or just an aesthetic choice) you know not to bring them up or let anyone else bring them up. A-Train noticed the one of the back of your neck and that put Homelander over the edge. You were both thrown out of the room. You consider yourself more than lucky. He could have killed you, both of you, but he was feeling generous. He had bigger things on his mind. You knew working for Vought would lead to sacrifices, uncomfortable situations, but being interrogated by Homelander about your tattoos was never something you ever considered. He thinks about using his lasers every time he sees them poking out from your sleeve or pants. But he needs you. As long as he needs you, you're safe. The moment you stop being useful, he's going to cut off every individual image until there's nothing left. Until you look normal again.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Can we get a fic with John Hancock with a shy, innocent virgin f!reader? I feel like he would just go feral with corruption/breeding kink and possessive/jealousy?! Like just wanting to ruin her for anyone else and mark her from other ghouls. Bonus for fluff as well. I love the idea of him falling for her softness and trying so hard to be a gentleman out of respect, thinking she deserves better while internally he’s thinking the nastiest filthiest shit.

(Also maybe you could do a Howard version sometime? I know you get a ton of requests so if not it’s fine, but I'm curious how he would be too) Either way, thank you ❤️ your blogs amazing and I appreciate it!

Carnal Lessons

Pairing: John Hancock x Virgin!Female Reader

Word Count: 19,965 (yes, for real)

Warnings: very sexual pining, loss of virginity, corruption kink, reader's first "real" orgasm, absolutely perverted thoughts, mutual and consensual drug use, shotgunning, discussion of addiction, canon-typical violence and bigotry, descriptions of wounds, mild exhibitionism, finger fucking, mutual masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), cock piercings, possessive sex, manhandling, hair pulling, breeding kink, slightly dishonest creampie, jealousy, self-hating John.

Notes: It's finally here! This thing absolutely refused to free me from its clutches, so I'm incredibly happy to have it all finished up. Thanks for the submission, Anon, and thanks for your patience while I worked through the forty-ish page fit it induced in me. I tried SO hard to keep this to a reasonable length (as I said, there's almost never a time when I'm not shooting to keep to around 5,000-7,000 words), I swear, but this idea really needed some room to develop. Please enjoy the first long-form piece on the blog that doesn't feature Cooper Howard in the lead role! As for the idea of doing a version of something like this with him in the future, someone else sent in a very similar ask that's been earmarked for just that.

Reader is a former vault dweller but is explicitly not Nora/the Sole Survivor. Post-Institute destruction.

John McDonough had always been more accepting of vault dwellers than most folks. A certain curiosity towards those who came from such different circumstances than him in youth had slowly grown over the years into some form of sympathy, even pity. There were those who looked down on the people who spent their lives hiding away in those armored chambers, saw them as craven and weak, but John found himself sympathetic to anyone who valued safety and stability for themselves and those they truly cared about. A hard-lived life of barely scraping by and sleeping in the gutter for years had granted him a thankfully varied perspective of the world around him.

When you'd first stumbled your way into his life, he had been very understanding of your plight; after all, you weren't the first poor schmuck that had left their vault, their safe little settlement, only to discover just how truly dangerous the streets and crumbling high-rises of Boston could be. You'd arrived in rough shape, though not the roughest he'd seen by far. Hell, you'd even managed to limp your way into Goodneighbor's front gates before collapsing, a bit of fortitude that had almost certainly saved your life.

Naturally, as the mayor, word of the collapsed, bloodied vault dweller laid out on the ground outside Kleo's had filtered up to him rather quickly, and his innate curiosity had gotten the best of him. Fahrenheit had tucked the information in between a few other pieces of news, seemingly hoping to keep it from garnering too much interest from her friend and boss.

"I think I'm gonna go check it out." he replied, rising from the rickety couch where he'd been perched, taking in his second-in-command's daily brief.

"I know you, Hancock. Maybe you shouldn't." she said, eyeballing him.

"I have no absolutely idea what you mean by that." he retorted haughtily before disappearing down the stairs and out the door. He made his way across Scollay Square, nodding to and greeting a few folks who spoke to him, cutting a wiggling path to the Rex where he'd been told they'd set you up in a room to rest after patching you up as best as they could. Seeking out the room number he'd been given at the desk, he was surprised when he poked his head around the corner to find Daisy still hovering over you a bit.

"Heard we might have a new friend. How're they doing?" he asked, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets. The merchant turned, smiling politely at him and straightening her jacket.

"Hey, Hancock. She's doing much better now, fortunately. Poor thing will probably sleep for quite a while, though. I'm shocked she made it through." she said, taking a half-step back to reveal your unconscious form on the bed. "Tough for a vaultie. Though, I suppose I said the same about Nora."

He hadn't fully heard a single thing she'd said after she'd stepped away, completely distracted by the realization of what Fahr had actually meant. When she'd had told him she thought it was best he didn't come down, he'd assumed it was a joking remark about how he'd disappeared for months the last time a vaultie had popped into their lives, but now he truly understood what she'd been getting at when she'd remarked about how she "knew him".

You were breathtakingly gorgeous, even battered, limp, and filthy like you were. Soft in all the right ways, from your statuesque face to what parts of your body he could see unobscured by the old sheets. Your vault suit was unzipped and yanked down to the waist to expose the dirty tank beneath, the swell of your breasts rising and falling gently as you slept. Your skin and hair were so perfect looking under the sweat and grime that he felt himself overwhelmingly drawn to caress you somehow, his palms itchy. He'd been around the block a time or two, and he'd met plenty of gorgeous men and women, but something about you was immediately captivating, almost haunting.

After a moment, he came back to himself, making abashed eye contact with Daisy once more to find that she was studying him closely. Of course, the older woman knew him well enough to figure he didn't have ill intent towards you, necessarily, but she recognized that glint in his eye as he gazed at you, and it made her hesitant to leave the room before he did, her instincts too strong to be ignored. Hancock, for all his vices and shortcomings, was quite adept at reading a room and quickly picked up on her thoughts.

"Well, I'll let her rest. If you see her up and around later, send her my way so we can chat, yeah? I'm sure she's got interesting stories." he said, trying his best to sound lax and casual. The other ghoul nodded silently, already turning her attention back to you as he turned to leave. Rounding the corner right out of the Rex, he ducked into a narrow alley and lit a smoke, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes with a sigh, trying his best to turn his mind to other topics. It had taken longer than he'd care to admit, but he finally succeeded and returned to the day's business.

When you'd eventually awoken, he'd been very pleasantly surprised to find you chatty and rather accepting of your surroundings for someone who had lived underground their whole life. You were kind, agreeable, though shaken by your ordeal, obviously; he guessed that you'd likely seen plenty of other wild shit on your way in, and that a semi-regular (if a little unsavory) community of folks who mostly just happened to be ghouls wouldn't be that high on the list of things that would trip you up badly. Incredibly thankful for the assistance you'd been given when you'd first showed up, you quickly proved him correct, eager to work, to help out, to find a place where you could fit in.

Early on, you did a lot of running around for Daisy and Kleo, searching for things that had been requested from them, but you'd quickly grown tired of prospecting and shifted to more community-based work, something that only endeared you to him more. You mentioned casually at one point that you'd been something called an "irrigation technician" back home, so it was no surprise that he often found you knee-deep in dirt, picking at weeds, evaluating soil and water quality like it was second nature to you.

Everyone around the neighborhood loved you, almost too much for his liking. More and more, he found himself asking you to do completely made up tasks, or things that were already an assigned job, just to make sure you weren't spending too much time getting close to someone else when he was too busy to hang out with you. It left a bad taste in his mouth to think that he might miss out on the chance to get close to you because of nothing but circumstance when it had been circumstance that brought you into his life to begin with.

Eventually, he'd gotten a bit of that familiar wandering itch, deciding to pack up and make the trip to visit Nora in Sanctuary. He'd invited you to come along with him, both interested to see what his two favorite vaulties would think of one another and hoping for an opportunity to get more personal with you. Besides, he wasn't naive. He couldn't leave you behind and expect you to still be available when he came back, that he knew; Edward Deegan had been in town far more often since the Cabots had left, asking around for you more than once, and he knew that the older man had a certain reputation...not that he had room to judge.

He also knew that he wasn't the only one to worry about.

Thankfully, you'd agreed to come along, openly eager to see more of the countryside and secretly eager to spend more time with John himself. His plan to get closer to you ultimately worked, and far better than he'd expected, but not for the reasons he'd anticipated.

The trip from Goodneighbor to Sanctuary wasn't terribly long, a day or two at most depending on your urgency. In fact, travel times all over had seemingly reduced as the roads had grown slowly safer, busier with the increased presence of the Minutemen and those who felt aligned with them. He had even noticed several trading caravans, though heavily guarded ones, making their way south, something he hadn't seen in years.

Unfortunately, he'd gotten a little lax, perhaps a bit distracted towards the very end of the trip and the two of you had been ambushed just as you'd entered the outskirts of Concord. He hadn't anticipated raiders so close to Sanctuary; in his overconfidence, a small pack of them had managed to get the drop on the pair of you, nailing him with a single round to his shooting arm from some distance before quickly hemming you in from uphill. Fortunately, he was both quick-healing and more than familiar with fighting in pain; his resilience, combined with your own strength and ability to pick several off yourself at a distance, quickly thinned their numbers, leaving each of you dealing with one or two stragglers.

Hancock had been retrieving his knife from the windpipe of the final one standing against him when he saw you fall out of the corner of his eye, your weapon tumbling a few feet away across the split, buckled asphalt. He immediately threw himself towards you, sizing up the burly raider who loomed over you as you attempted to roll out of his reach. The hulking motherfucker pivoted on one foot towards you, crushing the arm that was reaching out for your fumbled pistol under his filthy boot and snapping the bone with a sickening, audible crack. The agonizing cry that left you was sharp and heartbreaking.

Somehow, he'd teleported the ten feet or so that he needed to close the gap between him and the man raising his laser rifle towards you. He couldn't consciously recall a time when he'd moved with such urgency. The blow he delivered to the back of the guy's head with the butt of his shotgun caved in his skull cleanly and dropped him near instantly like a sack of rocks, but John still unloaded two shells into what was left for the satisfaction, his entire body vibrating with adrenaline and worry as he turned to you.

You were either attempting to sit up or curling upwards in pain, neither of which seemed especially comfortable as your mouth laid open in a silent scream. He acted as quickly as possible, gently moving your guarding arm away from the injured one to examine it. Thankfully, the bone hadn't pierced the skin, but the angle your hand sat at made his stomach roll, along with the way you began to whimper and hyperventilate. Wanting to move you out of the open before he administered one of the doctor's bags he kept with him, but distrustful of the surrounding houses, he scooped you up into his arms, wincing along with you as you cradled your limp limb against your chest. Holding his breath almost all the way, he trudged up the hill until he came across the Red Rocket truck stop, settling you gently on the old work bench.

"I'm real sorry, but this is probably gonna hurt, kid." he said, allowing himself the far-too-intimate gesture of pushing your hair away from your face, cradling your wet cheek for a split second. "When we get to Sanctuary, we'll get you something for the pain, alright?"

You nodded, eyes clenching tight as you extended the injured extremity towards him as best as you could. He was as gentle as possible patching you, uncomfortable with the idea of leaving you suffering completely, even for just the short walk across the bridge and up the hill. Eerily quiet despite what he was certain was fairly great pain, you let him do whatever he needed.

It had taken longer than he'd have liked to carry you to the short rest of the way to Sanctuary, his pace encumbered by his fear of jostling or mishandling you.

"It's fine. I can walk the rest of the way." you'd protested halfheartedly, your unmarred arm wrapped tight around his neck as you held yourself up as best as you could. However, you made no move to extract yourself from him. He'd pointedly ignored the handful of inquisitive looks the two of you had received as he'd carried you past the guard posts at the end of the bridge, quickly seeking out the settlement's little clinic building.

Nora, mayor in her own way, had almost immediately heard of your arrival, and found him smoking on the crumbling curb outside, staring off at the old gas station on the horizon absentmindedly.

"Is your lady friend alright?" she asked, lowering herself down beside him and holding out a semi-cool beer.

He smiled at her, almost full-strength, and reached out to warmly shake her hand. His friend looked a little older now, her time in the Commonwealth and her mountain of accrued responsibilities taking their own toll, but she appeared wiser (and more content) for it.

"She'll be fine. If I'm honest, I probably didn't need to rush her up here like that, but, eh. I panicked a little." he replied, cheeks warm as she appraised him with that knowing look. She didn't dig further, thankfully one of his few friends who had ever mastered the art of discretion. John was glad to see her, certainly, and tried his best to focus on their conversation as they caught up a bit, each sipping their drink, but his mind was inside with you.

Soon, she was pulled away, but promised to check in again before disappearing down the street, leaving John as he had been: worrying away on the stoop.

After the doctor had checked you over, fully re-set your arm, and given you another stimpack, along with a sling, the ghoul had helped you to a cot in an empty room at the back of one of the semi-restored houses. He'd offered you Med-X, eager to alleviate the pain he could see lingering, but you'd just shaken your head wordlessly, a nervous glint in your eyes as you sized the syringe up, your breathing still rather shallow and shaky as you sweated lightly.

"You're worrying me here, sister. I'm begging ya to just take something. I know you're healing up, but..."

"I'm fine, John. Really. I just need to rest a few more hours and it'll be healed enough to not hurt so badly." you huffed, resettling your limbs along the bed to allow him some room to sit beside you. You calling him by his real name, the one no one ever called him, didn't even really register.

"I've got some booze." he offered, embarrassed at how desperate he felt to get you to somehow accept what little help he felt he had to offer. "Or weed? Would you try that? I know you're hurting."

There was a different sort of hesitation in your gaze at that, your arm still cradled close in your sling as you stroked over it absentmindedly, protectively with your good hand.

"I really do just need to tough it out a bit longer." you replied, though your tone was a little softer. "Plus, I don't like to drink, and I don't exactly know how to smoke weed."

He chuckled at that, relaxing just a little.

"Not much to know. Inhale, hold, exhale." he said, smiling warmly at you. "I've got a joint if you wanna try it."

You were quiet for a long moment, taking a deep, steadying breath in the cooling twilight.

"Are you gonna light it?" you asked.

And he did, taking a puff or two himself to get the thing burning properly before handing it to you, showing you how to pinch it between your thumb and forefinger and watching with rapt attention as you lifted it to your own mouth.

"Easy!" he said as you pulled hard, the end of the joint glowing bright as it burned. Unsurprisingly, you began to cough wildly a moment later, cheeks wet and shoulders shaking hard as you hacked and gasped, desperately pushing the smoldering little cigarette back at him so you could wipe at your face. Resisting the urge to chuckle at the relatability in your tear-streaked mug, he patted your shoulder gently. Taking another puff himself, he leaned against the wall behind him, giving you a few minutes to collect yourself and find your voice once more.

"Wow." you said eventually,

"Feeling it?" he asked.

"Definitely. Also, that really hurt."

He tittered a bit at your glassy-eyed look, genuine relief washing over him as he took in your relaxing posture and slow, even breaths. Knowing that you wouldn't fess up to still hurting, he didn't ask your status, taking comfort in the knowledge that you were at least somewhat relieved of your pain as he fully settled in beside you, sitting up with his back against the moldering wallpaper.

"If only my friends back home could see me now." you chuckled, playing absentmindedly with your fingers. His stomach dropped a bit at that, always frozen in captivation and fear of stopping you somehow when you got to talking about home in any substantial way, which was so rare.

"Can I ask why you left? Of course, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." he asked, each word an uneasy labor to force out as he fiddled with one of his rings.

You were quiet for a moment, just long enough that his retraction was ready to launch off of his tongue when you finally responded.

"They wanted me to get married and I wasn't ready." you explained simply, following up after a moment with a very hesitant "Well, it wasn't just that. They wanted me to get married and start immediately popping out babies and stuff. Had a guy picked out for me and everything. I just couldn't go through with it. It didn't feel right. You know?"

John faltered for a moment, genuinely unsure if he did know what you meant. Sure, he was familiar with the feeling of being expected to fall into a certain role and failing, or rejecting the system that wanted to put you into that box completely. He knew what it was like to feel at odds with those who felt they knew what was best for you. But, through all of that, he'd been able to make his own choices, even if he sometimes wished he could go back and make different ones.

"I know what it's like to feel like you need to just get away, for sure." he replied after a hopefully-not-too-long pause.

You nodded slowly.

"So, uh...did you leave, or did you run away?"

There was a long moment of silence, and you didn't look at him when you answered, your voice just a little bit quieter.

"Closer to the second thing."

He nodded, hesitantly placing his hand on your knee in a gesture of comfort, smiling when you placed your own hand over his.

"Was he ugly?" he joked after a moment, earning a gentle laugh from you.

"Nah. It wasn't him. It was all of them, you know? And me, I guess." you replied, eyeballing the stars through a hole in the roof.

"Yeah, I hear you."

He held the joint out to you once more, but you declined, directing the thing away with a smooth turn of your hand.

"You sure you don't want some more? One hit isn't very much, even if it feels strong right now. Probably won't last long."

"I don't wanna hog all your fancy drugs." you responded facetiously, grinning just a little. "Plus, I think I'll literally hack up my own windpipe if I take another drag off of that thing. It's so..."

"...hot-feeling? I could shotgun it to you." he offered, trying to ignore the way his cock stirred at the confused look on your innocent little face. "It means you inhale my exhale. Makes it way less harsh. Only if you wanna, though."

"And it still works? The, uh, smoke, I mean?"

"Yep." he smirked.

"Hmm. Yeah, let's try it." you agreed, much calmer than before as you sat up a little taller and scooted close to him, your hips touching as he filled his lungs with smoke once more.

"Alright," he explained, words strained as he held his breath, "put your lips to mine and take a deep breath in."

You leaned in closer to do as you were told, you cheeks dusted with a tinge of blush as he closed the short distance between the two of you. Softly, he touched his mouth to your own, holding his lips open as he slowly, steadily exhaled. Hesitating for a moment, you eventually caught on, and surprisingly managed to take a rather generous inhale.

What surprised him more, though, was when he moved to pull away and you leaned in again, only to kiss him in full, your lips wrapping around what remained of his own instead of just sitting there. It began as a lingering peck, but after you pulled back a few inches to exhale, coughing much less this time around, he leaned in again, hand moving to cup the back of your head as he held you tight. You'd slept close to one another before, but that was the first night you'd chosen to sleep in the same bed, cuddled close and both content.

From that moment, things began to genuinely progress between the two of you, your relationship quickly blooming from a warm friendship with occasional flirtatious banter into something that was becoming quite serious, at least in terms of the relationships John had had in the past.

You were a flirt, but not in the forward, raunchy way he himself often was. No, you were a much sweeter, more playful sort of tease, and while he quickly found your affection high up on the long list of things he had a major fixation for, it also hampered him in its own way. It made him feel like such a creep to make more forward advances towards you when your own 'moves' tended to be more romantic in nature; hand-holding, soft kisses, chaste cuddles. Granted, he tried to keep in mind that your lack of experience may have made you less inclined to start or say things, less confident to put yourself out there; you often came across as eager, but nervous. He kept that observation to himself.

You were also a rather remarkable person, driven by how much you wanted to help people and make the world you'd found a better place. He found it almost funny how you tried your best to make it clear that you weren't one of those vault dwellers, though you sort of inherently were. As much as you liked to deny it, to insist that all of the "we must rebuild and lead America when we retake the surface" talk they'd drilled into your head where you'd grown up hadn't taken root, he saw some of it in you, in the way you were so eager to help run things, start up new settlements, provide assistance with improvements that would make life better for everyone.

Perhaps you'd decided to embody those values in a different way than you were taught, but it certainly came across as leadership behavior to him. Nora must've seen it, too, the two of you becoming quickly and warmly acquainted, you eager to help her out in any way you could and her with plenty of tasks that could use more hands. One of those tasks, funnily enough, was deciding what to do with the still-untouched Red Rocket. Too small to really be a proper settlement, it was decided that it would be emptied out and sized up for stability and how easy it would be to wire the place. He also insisted on a new guard tower at that end of the bridge to keep an eye on any Concord stragglers. Though, not too close to the building.

The two of you spent the next week or so cleaning the place out together, hauling away rotted junk and evaluating the old building's guts and foundation, which were pleasantly intact overall, much to his surprise. Nora stopped by when she could patch together any significant time alone from the few minutes here and there that she often had between tasks, offering assistance and extra supplies to stock the place up with. Knowing her, she'd long seen right through him and his feelings towards you; his suspicions were all but confirmed when she remarked that it was "quite the little home the two of you were building together".

Occasionally, she would bring Shaun along with her, introducing him to you after a couple of months of feeling you out. For the sake of his cherished friend, John treated the boy as normally as possible, even playing with him a bit when he requested it. But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force himself to let go of his lingering wariness of the whole thing. Yes, he was happy that Nora had her son back in whatever form it may be; he had seen firsthand how devastated she had been without him.

After all, that was precisely why he found himself so suspicious when she'd told him about the young synth boy. John had never been a parent, himself, but he knew Nora's heart, knew how deeply her love for her child lived inside her; it was exactly the sort of loss that could be easily exploited. She insisted that the Institute wasn't something they needed to worry about any longer, but he sometimes questioned her confidence in this. The facility itself may have been gone, but there was no way of knowing that all of their plans and orchestrations had been annihilated alongside it. Hell, if they'd been worth their supposed salt, they'd have been smart enough to guarantee that exactly that wasn't possible, that they would still be able to continue their work somehow. Shaun had showed up at too perfect a time, in his mind, and for that, he constantly kept one eye on the child who seemed to genuinely like him, calling him "Uncle John".

It was rather clear to him that you noticed the wall he kept up between himself and the kid, but you didn't prod much into it, and for that he was grateful.

The weeks continued to pass by, the Red Rocket becoming your sort of base; close enough to Sanctuary to be useful, far enough away to have some privacy for yourselves.

"We should really get you some actual armor and people clothes, y'know." he said one evening, reclining back onto the little bedroll he'd been using while you two searched for a proper bed and staring hard at your ass as you rummaged through your things. "That suit might protect you alright, but it's like wearing a target on your back."

And it's way too distracting to me, frankly, he finished silently, perfectly envisioning himself accidentally wandering off a cliff to his demise because he was too fixated on your various assets waggling around in that damn suit.

Fortunately for him, you actually agreed, long past growing tired of the perception of naivete and vulnerability that the suit drew to you. Though, he knew you were rather attached to the thing, one of the few slivers of home you carried with you always. You feared it being stolen if you left it behind somewhere, and he understood, helping you rig up a really good hiding spot in the Red Rocket ceiling tiles. The clothes you eventually started to wear around were, thankfully, less well-fitted than the vault suit, scrounged up pairs of jeans and threadbare tees, old button-ups and road leathers you tried your best to keep oiled and stretched.

However, when you felt truly comfortable (and weren't helping with some of the more intense work around the settlements), you'd often wear one of a couple of dresses you'd managed to trade for or scrounge up in your adventures, button-up things that hung well past your knee, but took the "form fitting" issue the vault suit had and multiplied it. Not only did the things emphasize every one of your sweet curves just the right way, they exposed the soft, strong flesh of your arms and legs, the line of your elegant throat as it disappeared into the swell of your breasts. As much as he loved to see you dressed so nicely, almost otherworldly beautiful in just how much you didn't fit into the dingy, decrepit background, it made it difficult for him to focus on any one task. Frankly, it made it difficult to focus on anything but the thought of hiking the flowing skirt up around your hips and having his way with you.

Simultaneously, it made him hypervigilant of exactly how others carried themselves when they were around you.

It had been irritating enough back home to have to deal with the Neighborhood Watch guys tugging you aside to whisper little bits of info to you, Ham's gaze lingering on you as you two passed into the entrance of The Third Rail, the number of people who had always wanted to talk or dance with you when you got inside. Caravan guards and traders trying their hardest to tail the pair of you on the road, pursuing your attention hard.

But once the two of you had begun spending a great deal of time around Sanctuary, the problem only intensified, increasing directly with the number of smoothskin men around who obviously did not see him as any sort of threat. Though he couldn't quite determine if the way they wrote him off was intended to be more emasculating or generally dehumanizing, John remained on his best behavior, both for your sake and Nora's, unwilling to embarrass either of you by association. Regardless, he was infinitely relieved when the former lawyer began to ask the two of you to start running errands to other nearby settlements. Sure, his patience was often tested again as soon as you reached whatever your new destination was, but the alone time in-between stops was incredibly regenerating for him, eager to get his hands on you whenever he could.

This was particularly true at night.

Often the settlements you were visiting weren't all that far away, but the two of you would usually choose to bed down for the evening somewhere on the roadside before turning up, both of you giddy at the unfettered access to one another, the privacy to discuss and say whatever you wanted. More than anything, though, he was desperate to feel you, to kiss you, to have you cuddled up against his chest the way he liked, and he was too nervous to paint you with the scarlet letter of ghoul alliance to be all that handsy during the day. When the sun fell, though, you were all his.

At no point did you explicitly tell him that you were a virgin. You didn't really need to, frankly; the way your lips and hands fumbled nervously against him, your lack of confidence to lead in this single situation, communicated all he needed to know. He wasn't especially surprised, anyway. The place you came from sounded pretty buttoned-up the way you described it, but you were also just a fairly guarded person in general; warm, friendly, but not overly eager to let anyone too close without a thorough sizing up. Fortunately for him, he somehow fit the specs.

It didn't take long for the two of you to start properly fooling around, much to John's partial chagrin. He hated to feel like he was rushing you, but at the same time, his self control completely evaporated into thin air the moment you stripped down to your skivvies to relax. He'd been hooked on you from that first kiss and the withdrawals were some of the heaviest he'd felt.

The first time he watched you come apart on his fingers, it took every ounce of strength in his irradiated body to not pin you down and fuck you until you literally couldn't handle any more. It was the most erotic display he'd ever taken in, the way your exposed chest flushed and heaved, your big, wide eyes brimmed with overwhelmed tears. As you'd crested into your peak, his hand buried in your panties while the other supported your limp head, you'd cried out so loudly he'd had to cover your mouth, soaking his fingers as your body twitched and jerked tensely.

"Holy cow." you'd gasped a moment later, a light sheen of sweat delicately clinging to your face and chest. "I wasn't aware I was doing that wrong."

"Well, I dunno about wrong..."

"Wrong, not as good as you, whatever." you dismissed, waving your hand at him playfully. "I hope you know that that's gonna be your job from now on."

"Is that right?" he grinned lasciviously, leaning down to kiss you on the cap of your bent knee and forcing himself to not firmly plant his rapidly growing head between your thighs. "Since when do you delegate tasks?"

"Oh, don't be that way, McDonough. We're all taking on extra responsibilities for the good of everyone." you replied diplomatically, your cheeks rosy as you rearranged your limbs to lie along his body.

He laughed genuinely at that, wrapping an arm around you and moving to recline himself. The small tent the two of you had set up was filled with your sweet musk, and he strategically angled his hips away from you so you wouldn't feel how completely stiff he was as a result, petting your hair as you drifted off to sleep. John was no stranger to knocking out for long periods himself, usually to will away a nasty come-down or hangover, but he found himself staying awake longer and longer to watch you, caress you. He thought it a much more worthwhile use of his time.

A while later, you'd been sent to the settlement that'd grown up at the center of the former drive-in theater a bit down the road from the Abernathy place. You were rather enamored with the place, both because of its historical use and because it had a fairly interesting crop setup, attempting to squeeze the most use out of what parts of the ground weren't paved. Personally, he felt less welcome at this place than he often did at other settlements, though other settlements coincidentally also seemed to have more ghouls already living there. However, when you wanted to stick around for a bit, caught up in helping work out some kinks with their crop watering system, he didn't object or complain, happy to see you happy. He'd simply make himself scarce during the day, often scavenging or patrolling the outer edge of the place and leaving you to socialize and play in the dirt, which is where he found you upon his return one early fall evening, the air growing chilly as the breeze blew through the little farmyard.

"How was your day?" you asked as he approached, sitting on the steps of the ramshackle barn the settlers had constructed and knocking mud off of your boots and the cuffs of your pant legs. The sun was quickly sinking behind the ridge at your back, darkness beginning to envelop the edges of the place.

"It was great. Camped out watching the ridge for a while, so I'm pretty stiff. Wanna go for a walk with me, stretch your legs?" he asked, rolling a loose cig in his fingers before jamming it between his lips. Smiling, you nodded silently in agreement, sweeping the remaining dust and debris from your pants after you stood before moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him, the two of you making your way northwest towards the other end of the paved lot. You chit-chatted a bit about the day's events, what each of you had accomplished. When you reached the decrepit building that made up the old movie screen, he took a pause to lean against the stained wall, finally lighting up his smoke. You busied yourself staring up at the stars quietly, leaving him to study you closely as he puffed away at the thing.

"Have you gone up top yet?" he asked eventually, exhaling the last of his cigarette through what remained of his nose as he tucked the butt into his pocket.

"No. Can you? I thought they had a guard post up there so I've been keeping away. I get so embarrassed when I get in the middle of their patrol routes." you asked, an excited glint in your eyes as you fiddled with the ends of your hair.

"They don't man it at night. Can't hardly see nothin' from it in the dark, strategically, and it's too hard to wire anything up there. Plus, anything happens and you're pretty far away, all things considered. Nor' says they're building a guard tower soon. Wanna take a look? Might still be neat."

You nodded enthusiastically, quickly reaching out to thread your fingers into his and tug him along, the slightly sickly glow of your Pip-Boy flashlight illuminating your way along the mostly intact path. The pair of you climbed the old metal stairs together, hand-in-hand, slowly making your way up to small walkway along the top of the massive screen.

He had been a little surprised that you'd never heard of a movie theater like this before you'd come here for the first time, since even he'd at least read about them once or twice (and vaulties often seemed to know so much more about the pre-war world than people from up-top), but Nora had gotten a kick out of showing both of you what remained of the massive projector in the decayed building at the far end of the lot, explaining to you how the whole place had worked back in the day. The wonder in your eyes had been adorable, and you'd spent quite a while afterwards talking about the few movies you'd watched growing up. It was rare for you to talk so much, so openly about where you came from, even if what you were talking about wasn't necessarily consequential information; he'd spent most of that night holding you in his lap, staring at you dreamily while you mused and remembered until you fell asleep.

"Wow. You can see so far!" you exclaimed quietly as you mounted the final step, pulling away from him by a few feet to look out across the scene. "Well, I bet you could see way further during the day. But still. How cool, John!"

He smiled, watching as you tested the strength of the hand rail before leaning against it cautiously, your head sweeping back and forth as you studied the inky horizon, dotted occasionally with flickering signs of life. There was a melancholic tang to the warmth he felt as he took in your excitement, your joy; this sort of small pleasure shouldn't be so novel to you, and it broke his heart just enough to color the moment.

Letting that feeling fall to the wayside, he leaned back against his own portion of the railing for a minute or two, fishing out the Jet container that sat in his pocket beside his smokes and hitting it quietly a couple of times. The pleasant, buzzing feeling of intoxication wrapping around his consciousness sent his head falling back laxly, lids heavy as he studied your silhouette against the moonlight, the lines of your body and the dancing form of your hair in the slight breeze. The smell of you in the air.

Nuzzling up close behind you after a beat, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his cheek to your temple as he held you close. His heart sped up further, already racing from the amphetamines coursing through him, when you relaxed into his grip, the back of your head resting along his shoulder. The two of you had been enmeshed in whatever your little entanglement could be called for a bit, and you didn't ever seem uncomfortable with him, personally, but sometimes more intimate contact still made you a bit skittish.

For a few minutes, he appreciated the view along with you, rubbing your sides softly, massaging the dip in your lower back where you often complained of tension after a long day. Eventually, however, his hands wandered further, grazing softly over your breasts and smirking at how you sighed in response, lips sliding down to tuck against your throat. Between his physical adulation and the growing chill of the dark, your nipples pebbled quickly, his fingers alternating between playing with each of them, setting you to squirming against him. He toyed along your belt line for a beat, forcing your attention to where his touch was landing as he gently unbuttoned your pants and slid his hand inside.

"It's alright, I gotcha." he assured you, supporting your stiffening form easily as his index finger teased over your swollen peak through your underwear, feeling a growing wet spot that made his core ache.

"I'm dirty, John." you murmured, voice hushed with embarrassment, your face and throat just a bit warmer under his lips.

"You think I'm clean?" he teased in response, nibbling at your earlobe.

The slightly worried fidgeting you were doing continued for another minute or so, but the more the damp patch expanded under his touch, the less nervous you seemed; still high-alert, but drifting further and further into his touch. Soon, you were relying on him to support most of your weight as your hips moved themselves back and forth against his hand. He could feel, see the signs of you approaching your orgasm, but dragged his fingers up and down the length of your slit a few times to tease you, to drag out the moment. The tension made you whimper sharply, teeth closing around your lower lip in an attempt to silence yourself.

"Better keep it quiet, cutie. You'll get us caught." he murmured, low and close to your ear; the shudder that broke down your spine, vibrating through your back and into his chest, was delicious.

His cock was aching against your backside, throbbing with anticipation, and it was unbearable. Head spinning, his hand that had moved to knead absentmindedly at your hip slipped further to press at the back of your thigh, pushing your knee skyward until your foot caught on the lower bar of the rail, balancing your leg there until you took over, bracing it there yourself. This new position granted him more reach, his fingers swiping lower along your now slightly exposed entrance.

"Mm, John." you whispered. A warning.

"Trust me, baby." he breathed in reply, stroking over the velvety soft spot a few more times before moving his fingers back to your needy clit. He wanted to sink his fingers deep inside you, to feel you wrapped around any part of him in that base, primal way, but resisted the temptation, sensing your hesitation.

Your more open stance also granted him easier access to roll your bud between his fingers, and quickly you were dancing along that knife's edge once more, your heat and sounds and smell all overwhelming him at equal speed.

His need had reached a fever pitch, your squirming and whimpering shooting sparks down his spine; this, combined with his already high proclivity for sexual behavior on Jet, was more than enough to send him wrestling his cock free through his suddenly unzipped fly. Your shirt had bunched up in the back, leaving a sliver of flesh exposed that he fixated on as soon as he'd noticed it. Stroking himself a few times in the cool air, he pressed closer, the pierced underside of the head dragging along your smooth, soft skin and making him hiss.

Feeling any part of your body against him like that drove him instantly mad, and he had to focus almost entirely on you to ensure that he didn't blow past you on his way to the finish line. Fortunately, it wasn't an issue, as you moved your hand down on top of his, pressing down hard, and soon stiffened completely against him, burying your face in his shoulder as best as you could to muffle your cries as you came apart; he followed you almost instantly, your sounds overwhelming him as he shot all over the ground.

The two of you savored the bliss of your aftershocks for a moment, clinging to one another, but quickly he felt you attempting to right your clothing, and he allowed you to pull away a bit. Probably smart anyway; neither of you had exactly been silent towards the end, though he couldn't hear anyone ascending the stairs.

"You alright?" he asked as he set to fixing his pants. You nodded silently, smiling shyly at him as you reached for his hand.

"Aht, watch out. Don't, uh, step in that." he murmured, guiding you to his side before you made your way down, passing by a couple people who side-eyed you on your way back to your shared bed, set up at the top of the projector room. Laid down for the night, your cheek on his sternum, he'd assumed you were asleep when you finally spoke up for the first time in a while.

"John." you whispered softly.

"Hmm?" he replied, eyes closed as his hand stroked your back.

You hesitated a moment, blush-heavy and squirming.

"Is your...ah..."

He allowed you some time to try and get your words out, but it was clear you were struggling.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, babe. Whatever it is, you can ask me. I won't be upset or anything." he assured, rubbing your shoulder gently.

"...is your penis pierced?" you finally whispered conspiratorially.

He was genuinely shocked into silence for a few seconds before breaking out in uproarious laughter, his head rolling limply to and fro as you giggled along with him.

"Wow, you could tell against your back like that?" he asked, rather astonished.

"I wasn't sure it's what I was feeling." you replied, sheepish. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be weird about it or anything. I just didn't know that was a thing that people did. Then again, I didn't know people pierced things in their faces until I met that lady at The Third Rail. Remember?"

He chuckled warmly at the memory, at your candor and the pink dusting your face as you sat up a bit, still looking at him curiously.

"You look like you wanna ask me more questions about it." he said.

"Did it hurt?" you asked quickly.

"Eh, it's been such a long time since I got it, I don't really remember all that well." he white lied, fully knowing he didn't remember how badly it hurt for entirely different reasons.

You nodded, the wheels in your mind clearly turning rapidly.

"Does it, uh..." The effort of forcing the uncomfortable words out of your mouth was clear on your face. "...does it have a function, or is it just for looks? Like, do you use it?"

"Oh, yeah." he grinned, ignoring the way he had started to grow stiff again.

You didn't ask for more elaboration on that front, but your mystification was clear, gaze wandering as the very faint smell of your arousal tinged the air. Eventually, you spoke again.

"What made you wanna get it?"

This question, shockingly, was the one that stopped him in his tracks. He'd told you not to be embarrassed when you'd first brought it up, the whole thing rather entertaining to him, but something about this specific inquiry agitated the ugly knot of shame that permanently lived at his core, his own face and chest suddenly feeling flush.

Was there even a way to phrase the truth that wouldn't just be embarrassing? What was the low-key way to say I was incredibly fucked up on Ultrajet at the time and it just felt like the right thing to do, so I did it myself?

There's only one thing he could think to say that wouldn't completely demean himself in your eyes, and it came out on the back of a halfhearted chuckle.

"Don't do hard drugs, kid."

Your face was unreadable in response to that, only for a heartbeat, but long enough to make him physically squirm in discomfort. But you simply chuckled in a satisfied, incurious way, laying a sweet kiss against his cheek before tucking in. He had trouble sleeping that night, but also found it tough to look too long at your sleeping face.

Eventually, you two made your way back northwest, making a very careful sweep through Concord as you went along. Both of you had jokes about what had happened last time; neither of you said a single word until you were turning into the crumbled Red Rocket lot anyway. The very first thing you did after you dropped your pack onto the ground was climb up and double check that your vault suit was still tucked away where you'd left it. When you were satisfied with what you'd found, you unpacked your things and asked if he'd like to go over to "town" and say hello. He agreed, ready for a stiff drink after how tense he'd been on the way back.

You held hands as you crossed the bridge, and it was a real labor for him to not actively gloat at the guards you always passed. After procuring a drink from the fairly well-stocked bar, he noticed you surrounded by the usual flock of folks who wanted to chat and exchange stories, so he stepped outside. Wandering over to where the handful of ghouls who'd taken up residence in Sanctuary usually hung out in the evenings, congregating beneath a little patched-up awning on some decently nice lawn furniture, he easily folded himself into the conversation and made himself welcome.

A few long anecdotes and one too many cigarettes later, the sun was beginning to dip behind the treeline to the west, and he figured it was time to make a reappearance and collect you. However, when he wandered back into the bar, grabbing another beer on his way through, he didn't find you. Exiting through the only other door, he cast his eyes downhill towards the waterfront and found you standing there with someone he never saw you alone with: Preston Garvey.

The Minuteman second-in-command wasn't a bad guy by anyone's report, nor an especially exciting one, as far as John could tell. He was friendly, obviously eager to help out and have a positive impact on things around him, but he was also far too close to you for the ghoul's taste, and his heckles were raised high as he quickly made his way towards you. His sharp ears picked up on the conversation in progress, his steps unconsciously light and quiet.

"...just don't want you to have to deal with that, you know? People can be so awful, and you don't deserve that."

"That's very considerate of you." you replied politely, your eyes seemingly glued to the ground. "But your concern really isn't necessary, I promise."

John had largely closed the distance between himself and the pair of you, lingering about ten feet away, just far enough out that he didn't draw Garvey's eye as he approached. He hesitated to move closer, though, afraid of how he may react if things didn't go his way. The sweating beer bottle in his hand was already clenched tighter in his grip than was likely wise. His entire body felt like it was made of lead, dense and frozen and so heavy that he was sinking into the soft ground beneath him.

"Well, I won't act like I know what's best for you better than you do. I just wanted to say that I think you're great, and that I think you deserve someone who will treat you just as great." the younger man finished up, taking another quarter-step into your bubble and placing his hand against your cheek for a beat. This, alone, was enough to make John apoplectic, but when Preston had the gall to slide his crooked index finger under your chin and lift it your face towards his, he lost it for a split second, the glass vessel in his hand suddenly exploding into a plume of tiny shards, a crumbled, wet, sharp mess remaining in his bloodied grip. Fortunately, you seemed to teleport a few steps back, your hands up in a bit of a defensive gesture.

Every non-existent hair he had stood on end in that moment, his entire body coated with goosebumps as the realization that he was about to make a grave, grave mistake settled onto him. The broken remains of the bottle felt far too useful in his hand, suddenly, and he tossed the whole dripping thing to the ground before turning and pounding sandy soil up the embankment and back across the bridge. John wasn't necessarily one to lose his cool like this often, but he knew well enough that he needed somewhere to direct this anger before it boiled over in a major way.

Shoving the door open, he stomped past the few pieces of furniture you'd dragged in, coming to lean against the old counter top towards the back, the one that you'd told him you'd like to get rid of. However, the two of you had been unable to figure out how to extract the thing because it was welded to the floor. For a few weeks, he'd been pondering how to remove it cleanly to surprise you. He'd been unable to come up with anything thus far.

Something about the presence of the thing only fueled his breakdown, and he delivered a vicious kick to the side of it, the metal and vinyl folding and splintering where his foot met the side. Typically, this little bit of destruction and catharsis would've been enough to quell him into stopping. But seeing the evidence of his anger and his lack of self-control only made him feel like more of a fuck-up, like more of the undesirable, unstable junkie he often saw when he looked in the mirror, and the resulting rage was blinding. Before he knew it, he'd wrapped his arms around the lip of the thing, yanking it once, twice, then a third time with all the strength at his command, until the whole thing broke loose from the base where it had been sealed to the floor. Bits of rusted-out metal and fat splinters of rotted wood clattered to the floor as he swung around, forcing it through the doorway to his right and throwing the thing as hard as he possibly could. It flew further than he'd anticipated, arcing rather high and crashing through the moldy awning of one of the Concord homes down the hill. There was skittering, the flapping of wings in response, frightened creatures fleeing the sudden sound as John stood there in silence, the burning in his muscles and the pain in his hands finally allowing him to focus on something other than his ears ringing in anger. After a long, dizzy moment, he turned and went back into the living room area, slumping against the wall as he studied all the metal shards sticking out of the floor where the counter top had been.

"I thought maybe you'd left." your voice came suddenly from the doorway.

"Nah, I wouldn't do that do you." he replied, trying his hardest to mean it, to not be exactly that type of guy. He couldn't make himself look at you. "Just needed to get away for a bit. Didn't wanna do anything stupid."

"Honey, your hand." you pointed out as you came closer, brow furrowed with worry as he examined himself; the back of his scarred appendage was bleeding somewhat generously, sliced by a nail or something similar in his momentary tantrum. He felt nothing about the wound, any pain he'd felt from what he'd done quickly leaving his body as the smell of you quickly filled the small space, further clouding his already racing thoughts. His beer bottle hand was already healing rapidly.

"It's fine. It'll be fine." he barely muttered in reply, reaching out to grab you just firmly enough by the wrist to pull you close enough that he could give you a thorough once-over.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You nodded, eyes wide, hair wild and cheeks ruddy as you gazed back at him like a startled doe.

For once in his life, not using the Jet hadn't helped the situation, seemingly. His head still spun with conflicting emotions and thoughts, every muscle still wired with energy from the adrenaline and from your general proximity, making him fidget and grasp for words as his body rebelled, reacting strongly to you. He was drowning in your scent, the tang of your sweat, but it was realizing that Garvey's smell still clung lightly to you from your brief contact that was the final straw.

Your heart raced under your skin, your pulse flying under the press of his fingertips as he pushed you firmly against the decrepit wall. You exhaled harshly through your nostrils, hands coming to knot themselves into his work flannel as his mouth pressed forward with its assault on yours. He expected you to begin to push him away using the shirt for leverage, but couldn't force himself to pull back first through the blinding possessive rage he felt.

John had always been more of a “free love” sort of guy most of his life, jumping from partner to partner without much thought or care, and, because he'd never put much emotional investment or time into any particular partner, had never really cared enough about another person to feel possessive of them. Jealousy was such a negative, ugly emotion that he hated to waste any of his time on it, but the fire he'd felt in his gut from the moment he'd watched that asshole place his fingers under your chin to tilt your face up, obviously angling for a kiss, could not be ignored. This was the final straw.

He'd heard the whispers of the people around Sanctuary, around every settlement and trade outpost; the speculations about why a woman like you would choose to travel with a ghoul as a companion, why you'd spend almost all your time with him, how you were so comfortable touching and being touched by him. Criticism from shitheads about his own actions and choices rolled off of him like water off a mirelurk shell, valid or not, but it stirred him up fiercely to hear these people you'd worked so hard for, given so much of yourself to, judge you, as if they had any room. Some of the more hateful ones called you a fetishist and a freak when they thought no one else could hear, and if it weren’t for you specifically asking him to not start trouble around the settlements unless you started it first, he would have made those people swallow their own teeth long ago.

Preston had added himself to that list the moment he made it clear that he pitied you for your choices.

John hadn’t previously had much problem with the guy, save for noticing the glint in his eye when he spoke with you. He couldn't necessarily begrudge him his attraction to you, though; you were, after all, the most beautiful woman in the Commonwealth, hands down. Beyond that, you were kind, generous, hardworking, and terrifyingly smart. You’d give the clothes off your back to anyone who needed them, and would offer a stranger your shoulder to cry on if they needed. It was nearly impossible to not fall in love with you, just a little. He knew; he had tried and failed as miserably as he'd ever failed at anything.

The guy’s feelings themselves weren't the problem, though; the problem was that he obviously thought himself some sort of contender for your affections. Or, he was trying to make himself one. It couldn't be tolerated. Hell, replace him with Edward Deegan, that rat McCready, or any other random man plucked out of the ether...the conclusion was the same, regardless. If this trespass was allowed, every man in the Commonwealth who fancied you or cut of your under suit would feel comfortable trying to pick you up right in front of him, and it'd be nothing but trouble for everyone involved. John's tolerance for everyone else encroaching on what was his had finally run dry.

His mouth found the side of your throat, placing open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips the way he knew you liked in a beeline from your clavicle to your ear. When you squirmed, letting out an airy moan as you yanked him closer, he latched onto your pulse point and sucked, bathing the skin with his tongue hard enough to leave a spotted, wine-colored mark that you wouldn't be able to hide the next day. You liked that, too, but you’d never admit it out loud.

Well, unless he made you, maybe...

A low, drawn out moan escaped your mouth, your hands moving up to cup the back of his head, pulling him still closer. He obliged you, pressing the line of his entire body against you, making you feel his throbbing need against your belly, and you whimpered in response, your hands finding the top button of his flannel and beginning to work it open.

He paused his ministrations, reaching up to cup your cheek gently, your own fingers stalling for a single beat as he gazed into your eyes, trying to reassure you that he wasn’t upset with you. And he wasn’t. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But he was upset at that guy’s uncharacteristically bold actions, his disregard of his place in your life. The disregard of the others. The disrespect.

He needed to assert his place. He needed to show you how he felt.

Promptly, he resumed his ministrations. By the time you'd managed to undo the last cracked button, he’d left a huge, oblong purple bruise along the side of your elegant throat.

“John,” you whispered in between harsh breaths, your hands moving to yank the thin shirt over your head. “I want you.”

The tone of your voice was sure and clear despite how it trembled. When he fully looked up to your face, you were gazing at him dreamily, your brow furrowed with effort as your hips began to move, trying to find some friction against his. Just like the previous night, like every night, he could clearly see your desire, your trust, in the way you gazed at him. Still, though, a tug of guilt in his chest had him chastising himself as he hesitated; he should protect you and tell you to not do this. Not only because of the societal response you could expect for being with a ghoul, but because he was far from anyone’s ideal man. He didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t sure he could be everything you needed, and wasn’t sure a man even existed on Earth who could be all that a divine woman like you deserved.

Even knowing this, he couldn't pull himself away from you. The overwhelming desire he'd felt since the moment you'd met burned too hot in his gut, long transformed from a deep want to a need.

“John.” you repeated, slightly louder though just as winded, and it sunk in just how much you made it feel like his name again.

His head dropped to your shoulder, kissing across it placidly for a moment. Your hands traveled up his back, eventually moving up to grab the tricorn from his head and toss it onto the counter beside you. He felt the warm bloom of self-consciousness as you pecked along his bald head gingerly, your lips feeling extra plush against his ruined skin.

“This really what you want, sunshine?” he asked, forehead coming to rest against your own as his hands rubbed your sides.

You didn’t respond vocally, but instead reached out to stroke his cheek like he had yours, thumb swiping back and forth for a few moments. There was a silence, but a warm, comfortable one that wrapped you together in your own little bubble. When your eyes met again, he had his answer.

He led you by your soft hand to the next room, ditching his shirt, the two of you dropping onto the mattress in the corner, chuckling at the plume of dust that rose from the thing as you cuddled close. Your hands absentmindedly petted at him, one twiddling at one of the frayed tails of his shirt, averting your eyes. Soon, the unoccupied hand began to move down his chest, stroking the wiry muscle of his exposed torso. Your palm was warm and soft against him as you explored his chest, eyes following your hand as it slowly moved lower. He tensed a bit as your hand swept along his abdominals ticklishly, fingertips dipping below the waistband of his jeans. You hesitated a moment, your fingers retreating slightly to sweep back and forth along the upper seam, toying with the loose threads there.

John was radiating tension at the way you were touching him; you had never been quite this bold before, and his head swam with the overwhelming amount of emotion that he felt as your fingers began to dip below again, shyly. He was proud of you, knowing how much work you’d put into getting over your nerves to get to this point; at the same time, he was beyond touched that he was the man you’d chosen to share these milestones with. Both of these tender feelings made the overwhelming arousal he felt at your soft hands on his body a little embarrassing.

His breath caught in his throat when the tips of your fingers lightly brushed his erection, the sound odd. You froze, eyes moving to his to assess; he gave you a small head shake to convey that you hadn’t hurt him or anything, his usually silver tongue caught in his throat.

Given the green light, you slid your hand just a little further down, warm against the side of his shaft as you gently explored; your ginger poking and prodding was unpracticed, almost clinical, your hand trembling a little as you made him squirm. He was already rock hard, electricity sparking from where you touched him, and his frazzled emotional state didn’t help in the slightest. He gave a little grunt, trying to remain quiet and calm but feeling a mounting need to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you down against the filthy mattress and make you come undone.

He wanted you naked.

Generally, when you two got to fooling around, you were more than okay with him touching you both over and under your clothes, and you responded to him beautifully, making it easy to figure out what you liked and what you didn’t. However, you were often very nervous to fully remove your clothes when he made it clear he actually wanted to touch you. In the past several weeks you’d been so bold as to let him push up the hem of your shirts or open the blouse of your dresses to softly fondle and kiss your breasts, which you held and shielded with your hands when he wasn’t directly touching them, your face dusted with a dusky, embarrassed blush.

It hurt him terribly to see that you doubted your own beauty; if he had his way, he would spend every day from here to the next end of the world showing you how gorgeous you really were. But at the same time, the lingering shyness you demonstrated drove him wild.

A sharp inhale left his mouth when you suddenly wound your index finger lightly around the head of his cock, the softly calloused pad collecting some of the precum that dribbled from the slit and dragging along his piercing. You jumped a little at the sound, but when he looked at you in the dim light, your eyes were wide and the corners of your mouth were turned up ever-so-slightly in an expression of gentle confidence. He didn’t dare interrupt you, not wanting to risk throwing you off whatever wave you were currently on, instead tucking what remained of his lower lip between his teeth as you shimmied a little closer to him, the new proximity granting you a little more length of your arm to slide into his pants.

When your soft fingers curled all the way around his shaft, he nearly lost himself.

He cried out, the sound embarrassing and dragging out as you moved your grip on him up and down, slowly, hesitantly, his face burning with the shameful realization that he’d nearly cum in his pants like a teenager from a single touch from you. He was grateful his blush couldn’t be read on his tarnished skin as he dropped his face to your shoulder once more, placing a series of little kisses across the tan softness there as your blush began to work it's way down to your chest. One of his hands swept down your spine, caressing you softly as it slipped low and came to rest in the small of your back.

“Fuck.” he grunted, his jaw clenched tight as you continued your gentle ministrations, “I wanna see you, baby. Please.”

Your hand paused for a moment, giving a couple more gentle strokes before pulling back. When he lifted his head again, you were looking at him straight-on.

“Only if I get to see you, too.” you replied simply, your voice just above a whisper.

He was surprised at that; John had no real issues being a ghoul, but generally made it a practice to stay mostly clothed during sex for the ease of things (and, you know, just in case someone decides they don’t like what they see). His shirt was already hanging open, exposing his chest to you, but he went shirtless or open shirted frequently, both at home and on the road. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to you. He pulled back from you a bit to straighten up, his hands coming to work the fly of his jeans down as he gazed back at you, lips swollen and throat heavily marked where you sat, leaning back against the moldering wall.

“Deal.”

At that, you sat up more yourself, fingers slowly moving up to work the clasps on the back of your now well-worn bra loose. John stood and busied himself removing his jeans, taking a few extra seconds to fold them before placing them on the floor with his boots. As much as he wanted to stare at you, to fix his gaze on you and savor every moment of your undressing, he knew it would make you anxious or self-conscious, and willed himself to keep his eyes on the floor or the wall for a minute. When he looked back over, you were stripped down to just your panties, your knees drawn up to your chest, obscuring your breasts from his view as you watched him, waiting.

He felt a sudden and unexpected wave of self-consciousness as your eyes traced over his almost-naked form, straining to make out the details of him in the rapidly fading light. He was grateful that night was falling. Following your lead, he left his boxers on and returned to the bed, sitting down gently beside you. You responded by leaning towards him, leaning your head on his shoulder. A few quiet moments passed, the only sounds the creaking of the ancient place's frame and the wind in the trees outside.

"Nervous?" he asked, unable to help himself.

You nodded, but softly; he cupped your face lovingly, kissing you a few times and feeling you relax towards him just enough that he could maneuver you down onto your back. Giggling, your smooth palms ran along his own body in turn, coming to rest along the crown of his head as he laid kisses down your torso. An approving hum escaped you as he let his tongue lathe across one of your nipples, a hand teasing along your mound, but you froze up a bit when he moved towards your stomach. Feeling your tension, he pulled up just enough to look at you.

"I'm sorry. It's not you." you said, eyes avoiding his.

"I know it isn't, honey. It's alright. You didn't do anything wrong. Just relax, okay?"

Your eyes closed, hands petting at his head in soft affirmation as he dragged his lips along your soft skin, minding the few pale scars that decorated it. He could tell you were self-conscious about how soft you were in the middle, but he loved it, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into the plushness. More than once, a simple little peek at your tummy when you were reaching up or changing had been enough to turn him on so badly he'd had to excuse himself for a bit. You'd be incredibly sexy pregnant, he often thought. Moving lower, he switched up and laid some playful bites along the inside of your right thigh, and you let out the most adorable little squeak.

However, when he let his lips ghost over your bare mound for the first time, a heavy shudder broke down your back, your other noises choking down to nothing. It took a great deal of self-control, but he managed to drag out teasing you for a bit, barely letting his breath tickle you before peeking his tongue out to take a small swipe at your folds. He deeply suspected that he wouldn't last long once he finally made it inside you, and he wanted to make sure you were completely satisfied before that happened.

Soon, the temptation to dive straight into you got to him, and he closed his lips around your puffy clit, lapping and bathing it with the tip of his tongue. You cooed at the sensation, grasping at the back of his head and grinding your hips forward. He grinned, delving deeper into your most sensitive place. Quickly, you were trying your best to fuck his face, rubbing your slit along his tongue and nose until he was forced to hold your hips down, wriggling and writhing until you were calling out his name and coating his tongue in your taste.

He was lightheaded from how much blood had rushed to his groin by the time he lifted his head from yours, giving you a second to breathe and regain your vision before pulling himself on top of you. Petting and stroking his favorite parts of you, he found himself lost in admiration for a long second, holding his gaze on your face until you finally looked back at him. There was an electricity in the air between the two of you, a magnetism drawing him in until you were close enough to share breath.

A terse little noise left your throat when the head of him first touched you, just barely laying against you, nestled in the fold where your thigh met the rest of you. Though he’d anticipated it (advancing to a “new step”, as it were, always made you a touch anxious and jumpy at contact, but John’s skin crawled at the idea that he might be doing something to you that you didn’t want), his immediate instinct was to pull away, to hold you and tell you that the pair of you didn’t have to do this, that he cared for you for reasons other than what he could take from your body, and that it would kill him if you didn't feel that. But the way you wrapped your arms around his narrow shoulders, burying that beautiful face against the weathered side of his neck as you tried to pull yourself closer, steadied him. You wanted this, and he wanted to give it to you.

He rested there for a minute or two, not moving, letting you adjust to his presence and listening to your breathing. It was shaky, and he dropped his chin to place a few kisses along the crown of your head, lingering with each. Slowly, he brought a hand to your chest and gently groped your breast, thumb circling your nipple tightly in the way he knew made you crazy, earning a couple quiet whimpers from your lips. You loosened your grip on his neck a little, relaxing back onto the bed enough to allow him to kiss you again, his mouth distracting you while his free hand slipped down to grip his erection, giving it a firm squeeze to alleviate the nearly unbearable pressure he felt as he slid it against you.

He broke away from you before he was aware what was happening, pulling his mouth back to moan as he really felt the silky wet heat of you against him for the first time. Pins and needles of pleasure bloomed up his spine and across his scalp; he was so close to what he’d been fantasizing about for almost a year, what he’d spent so many late nights and hazy jet-fueled afternoons jerking off thinking about. Again, he throbbed dangerously, threatening to blow his load before he was ready.

Forcing himself to focus, to come back into his own body a bit and retreat from the heady pleasure he was slipping into, he braced himself and slid the blunt head along your wet little seam, collecting your lubrication as he stroked over your clit, the swipe of the little metal bar making you shudder. To his surprise, while you were trembling and he could still smell fear pheromones in the air, you let out a moan, your hips shifting to work against his, rubbing yourself back against him. Seeing you growing bolder in your actions, compared to how anxious and tense you'd been before, made his heart and his cock swell simultaneously.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.” he hissed, unable to keep a better handle on his filthy mouth; you responded with a sultry hum, seemingly appreciating his words but unsure how to respond. Your hips continued to cant against his, your breathing uneven, face pulled taunt in concentration. He groaned at the sight, rubbing himself against you a little faster. All the better if you came again before he slid home, he figured.

After another few minutes of continuing to stroke at your hard nub, you shuddered under him once more, moaning low and throaty as another rush of that shiny slick coated him. God, he’d been addicted to a lot of things in his life, but the best thing by far, and the only one he’d never be able to kick, was the sounds you made as you unraveled. No one else had ever heard your most intimate song, your sotto little moans and whimpers as you experienced feelings you'd been convinced you couldn’t feel before.

Pulling himself up from you just a little, his hand left his member and came up to brush your hair from your face once again, gently stroking your downy, flushed cheek as you worked to catch your breath. Never before had he wished he had a camera so badly; between your fully nude state beneath him, your kiss-bruised pout and throat, the wild crown of soft hair, and the way your deep, dark eyes beckoned to him as they slowly slid open, you were the most gorgeous sight he’d ever taken in. Cupping your face with both hands, he leaned in slowly, your eyes lingering on one another as he pulled you gently into another kiss. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his tongue.

For a few moments, he allowed the pair of you to fall back into you usual pattern of kissing; advancing, gently teasing, withdrawing before resurging once more like the sea. Slowly, his right hand pulled itself from your face, softly brushing the side of your breast and rib cage as it slipped further south. Fingers ghosting just barely over your mound, he gripped his aching cock where it hung heavy between you, giving a light squeeze around the shaft as he repositioned himself slightly, lining up. As the head of him nestled against your opening, you gave a small whimper, pulling back just enough to disconnect your mouths, lips brushing his as you spoke.

“John.”

He waited a long moment for you to say more, but you seemed unable to force whatever you wanted to say out.

“You ready?” he asked gently, voice a soft murmur against your mouth. His body was tense as he awaited your response, ready to pull back if needed, but you wordlessly cuddled up to him again and let out a deep sigh, wrapping your legs just a little tighter around his waist. Peppering your jaw and throat with small, distracting kisses, he pressed forward a bit, undulating his hips back and forth a few times until the head slipped fully inside. You tensed a bit, and he set to marking up the other side of your throat, drawing your attention and making you gasp and hum as he worked his way further inside.

When about half his length had been worked inside, he took a pause, sitting up a little higher to check on you, finding you staring shyly at him, worrying away at your lower lip. Your face morphed a bit when he gave a couple of thrusts of equal depth, and he watched you processing the new sensations, bringing his thumb to your clit again. Breathing heavily in response, you shuddered, and he let a low moan slip himself when you started to work your hips back and forth in a crude arc.

The way you were wriggling and clenching already beneath him set his hips to moving further, faster. Every muscle in his back and flanks burned with withheld strength, effort to not literally fuck you through the mattress, but eventually he'd built up to full-length strokes, using whatever bounce remained in the decrepit springs to move you easily back and forth along his length.

Taking in the bruising along the sides of your throat where he'd been kissing and sucking at your skin, John hummed approvingly, nuzzling you and taking a deep lungful of your rich scent. The lingering edge of his own smell that coated you turned him on more than he'd have thought, and he gave a much harder buck than he'd intended.

"Oh, f-" you gulped at the sudden stab before silencing yourself, the word he wanted to hear so badly teasing across his ears and sending him gnawing along your shoulder again.

"Go on, honey." he growled, his hips steadily picking up their pace, body pinning yours just a little harder. "Say it."

You didn't reply, your face as red as he'd ever seen it as his fingers moved to your abused clit again, earning a pitiful whimper as he began to rub at you again.

"Beg me to fuck you. I wanna hear you say it, baby. I need it."

"John...!" you gasped as he flicked the tip of his finger just right; however, he paused completely when you still refused to say the magic words, simply applying pressure near where you wanted it as he continued to pound away at you.

"Mmm." you whined, clenching around him over and over, those big eyes brimming with tears.

"Tell me."

"F-fuck! Fuck me, John! God!" you finally spat, everything tense and twitching and spinning as he fully let himself go, wrenching one of your legs up onto his shoulder and driving as hard into you as he felt he could let himself without splitting you in two, his fingers back at work. You squirmed under him at the almost punishing pace, fingernails digging firmly into his back; the pain made him growl again, and the sound was seemingly enough to push you over that edge, squeezing and fluttering around him fast and firm as you gasped and sputtered his name.

He was able to hold out for a few more strokes, his hips stuttering as the pins and needles creeping up his spine began to fully wash over him.

“God, baby, I love you.” he huffed breathlessly, overwhelmed and not giving you a moment to respond as his mouth crashed into yours once more. He couldn’t bring himself to feel bad or embarrassed for saying it; he did love you. He loved everything about you, and every day he loved you more and more.

Your reply, whether you'd fully heard what he’d said or not, was to throw your arms around his neck and kiss him back deeply as your bodies continued to glide across one another, yours faltering and growing limp as he crested the peak.

John had never really wanted kids before. He felt himself far too unreliable, too unlike someone anyone should look up to as a father figure. However, that didn't stop the most primal part of his brain from whispering to him how perfect it would be to knock you up, for everyone to see you full to the brim with his child and know that you were his and only his.

"Fuck, I wanna cum inside you." he growled, quickly following up with "I can't get you pregnant." when you made worried, bleary eye contact. Your responding whimper made his gut tighten, hot and sharp and so ready, but he also felt a sting of guilt behind his breast at what felt too close to a lie. Still, when you fluttered around him hard once more, it was the end, his head falling heavily into the crook of your neck, his moans filling your ear as he filled you completely, throbbing into you again and again as you clung to him.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, almost all of his weight pressing down on you until he regained the presence of mind to hold himself up a bit. Both of you panted like you'd been fleeing for your lives, exposing your overheated skin to the cool air while still desperately holding one another. There was so much racing through his mind, thoughts and creeping worries, but his exhausted body rebelled, refusing to allow him to even sit up. You appeared similarly situated, fighting your way into a comfortable position across his chest before letting your eyes close heavily. Quickly, your breathing fell even and gentle, your hair wild as it laid across his ribs. Somehow, you still looked so innocent to him.

Quickly, he followed you into sleep, clutching you close with no shame, his mind fogged with the smell of him all over you.

-

It was the chill of the very early morning air licking at your slightly exposed back that began to rouse you several hours of deep sleep later, a shiver breaking out up and down your spine as you curled yourself up closer to the man beneath your arm, staving off having to pull away and get up for a few more minutes by sapping his ample body heat as he snored lightly, blissfully unaware. You drew in a long, deep breath, stretching your back as best as you could without moving too much as the very familiar smell of him filled your lungs; tobacco, cologne, and that slight smell all ghouls seemed to carry that was somewhat like an old book. It was a great comfort to you, and soon you felt yourself beginning to drift back off into the inky embrace of sleep.

However, just a few moments later you began to feel the nagging tickle of your full bladder beginning to protest your posture, the feeling rapidly becoming more urgent as you laid there, trying your hardest to ignore it. You huffed, cursing your incredibly regular bathroom schedule mentally. Resigning yourself to your fate, you gently rolled onto your back, giving you just enough space from your still snoring partner to slowly sit up and look around the formerly abandoned gas station.

It was early, the night still holding its grip on the room as the sunrise struggled to break its way through the windows. Grasping around, you found your Pip Boy, strapping it onto your arm quietly as you rose from the floor where the two of you had constructed your makeshift bed set, tucking the blanket around your partner’s still snoring form as you gave another shudder, casting a glance around the room again in search of your jacket. When you didn’t locate it immediately, you made your way for the door, grabbing John’s long red coat from the table near the door where he’d left it instead, wrapping it tight around your naked body as you quickly padded outside. It wasn’t worth waking John up early if you didn’t have to just to turn your flashlight on.

Winding your way around the corner of the place, eyes scanning your surroundings for any new threats, you quickly made your way to the tree line in the back yard, picking a concealed spot before bunching the coat’s tails up around your waist to squat.

You hunched there, nose and toes freezing in the crisp air, and closed your eyes, trying to hurry though your task but distracted by your brain’s undeniable urge to run though last night’s events again in your mind, to dissect each moment for meaning and for the ability to store the memory away for later.

There were so many moments you wanted to keep hold of, turning each one over carefully in your mind as you cleaned yourself up, your walk back to the Rocket much less urgent; the way he’d pressed you against the wall, the heat of his insistent kisses and gropes, the sound he’d made as he lost himself deep inside you.

The sound of his rough voice, cogent, but overwhelmed, as he’d told you he loved you.

Your pulse raced as you remembered how those words hit you, how you’d struggled to try to return them against his smothering kiss. You’d loved him for what felt like eons now, and you were indescribably excited to have broached this particular milestone, despite the mild lingering doubts that he’d only been lost in the moment when he said it. The closeness you'd been building ever since you'd been introduced had always felt so easy, so natural, and so foreign to you, that you concluded it could really only be love.

As your bare feet stepped up onto the front stoop of the place you'd begun to see as home, you could hear the familiar sound of John’s lighter striking, your pace picking up as you hurried down the short hall to see him sitting up on the dingy mattress on the floor, tossing the old gold-plated lighter a bit to the side, onto his folded pile of clothes. Gaze lifting to appraise your body lazily as his head turned to face you, freshly lit cigarette dangling loosely between his thin lips, he smirked at you as you hurried across the cold floor, coat drawn tight around you.

“Well, ain’t this a pleasant surprise.” he mused, voice thick with sleep as he took a long drag, his face briefly lit up by the red-orange glow of the burning tobacco as he slowly looked you up and down. “I can’t lie, wearing my coat’s a real hot look on you, babe. Then again, you could wear a tato sack and look just as sexy. You really don’t need to try.”

Your cheeks burned with discomfort at the positive attention you were receiving, but at the same time, you giggled and felt a warm sensation deep in your stomach, standing a little taller as you approached. Shifting down onto your knees as you saddled up beside him, you kissed him on the cheek and leaned against him, seeking warmth beneath the blanket.

“Cold this morning!” you exclaimed, chattering your teeth as you snuggled your head into his firm chest. John wasn’t a large man in terms of his general build, but the muscle tone he did have was deceptively strong due to his ghoulification. He chuckled at your dramatic show of discomfort, slinging his free arm around you to hold you close, leaning back to blow his latest drag away from you.

“Sleep good?” he asked, rough palm rubbing comfortingly up and down your back, making the lightest of scratching sounds against the old wool.

“Oh, like the dead.” you replied, eyes peeking open to look up at him. “Better than I think I ever have before. I only even woke up because I was chilly.”

“You did seem like you were out pretty good. I woke up for a few a couple hours ago to readjust a bit but I was out. Turns out having the most gorgeous woman in the Commonwealth laying naked across your chest is quite the sleep aid.”

You blushed again as he threw a wink at you, giggling as you sank down further under the cover, your head coming to rest in his lap, the bit of blanket over his groin bunching up at the back of your neck. John had always been very flirtatious with you; he was a flirtatious man by nature, sometimes using it to disarm people, but he was also honest, and you knew he wouldn’t tell you anything he didn’t mean. You could see his attraction to you, the affection he held for you in his deep, soulful eyes when he looked at you, too, and it made you feel genuinely beautiful and not just objectified for the first time you could ever remember.

John finished his cigarette above you, discarding the butt by tossing it in the little sack in the corner for trash and junk, before leaning down over you, peppering your hairline, then your forehead and cheeks, with soft kisses, his rough lips brushing you gently. Working his way slowly down your face, he paused when your mouths aligned, bringing one hand down to cup your cheek.

“Think I’ve got a joint already rolled in the right pocket of my coat. Wanna split it?” he asked, voice low and soft, just a hair above a whisper. He was so close that his lips brushed yours and his body heat soaked into your face like you were laid out in the sun.

“Sounds wonderful.” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. His hand on your cheek slid around to the back of your head, cradling you against him as you smooched one another. In no rush to pull away, you stayed in his lap until he pulled back from you on his own before sitting back up, fishing around in the pockets of the old coat until you felt the little hand rolled cigarette, careful to not crush or bend it as you held it out to him.

“You wanna go first?” he asked, sifting through the pool of fabric beside him for his discarded lighter. “I’ll light it for you if you want.”

You thought for a moment, and then shook your head. You still weren’t confident enough smoking marijuana to not worry about looking silly. “Nah, I’m not sure I’m cool enough for the first hit yet.”

A warm, raspy chuckle met your ears in response as he placed the joint between his lips, hand cupped over his face as he attempted to light it. The slight breeze that danced across the floor kept catching the flame, bending it before snuffing it out. You drew yourself closer once more, bringing your own hands up alongside his, expanding the shield and allowing him to light it. He smirked at you as he drew in the first hit, holding it in deep as he held the smoldering joint out to you; you grasped it between your thumb and forefinger, feeling self conscious as you lifted it to your lips and inhaled a small amount. When you offered the thing back to him, he insisted you have another, so a second little puff disappeared up into the air.

“Taking awfully small hits there.” he teased as he accepted the joint back.

You blushed, looking down to the tattered blanket that covered your bodies haphazardly.

“It’s just really harsh and I don’t wanna die coughing!” you gave a little chuckle as you spoke. You toyed with a loose thread for a moment before continuing. “Do you think you could do that thing again where you, uh, pass it to me? It doesn’t make me cough nearly as much that way.”

He chuckled as he inhaled another hit, his voice strained as he held it during his reply.

“If you want me to kiss on you, babe, you can just ask. You don’t have to ask me to shotgun weed to you as an excuse.” he jested, leaning towards you, chin tilted down as he angled towards your mouth. You smiled at him as your lips met, his parting as you inhaled his exhale. This time, your lungs didn’t burn at all, but you could feel more of a head change as you pulled back, lips pursed for a long moment before exhaling the rich tasting smoke into the cool air, the tendrils dissipating lazily above your head.

Your hands slid further across the floor behind you, leaning back a little, head cocked in John’s direction, watching him as he took another hit. When he tilted his chin at you again a moment later, you accepted another kiss, another puff, your body sinking a few inches deeper into the pool of tingling warmth you were beginning to feel. Your eyes felt weighty, and your lids drifted closed for a moment in response to the general feeling of peace; when they opened again, he was raking his eyes up and down the exposed sliver of your torso and stomach that was revealed by the gaping, unbuttoned coat opening as you leaned back. Briefly, you felt the familiar urge to cover yourself, but you let it pass, trying to bask in your lover’s attention. You liked when he looked at you.

Things stayed like that between you for a while, the deep indigo of the room slowly fading into lighter hues of periwinkle as the warmth of the rising sun outside began to seep in, the world beginning its gradual awakening as the earliest birds began to sing in the distance. You shared more nips between you, the kisses after each stolen breath growing longer, deeper with each pass, tongues tasting one another languidly as you moved closer over time. The joint was growing short in John’s fingers, and you watched him evaluate it from where your head was resting on the point of his shoulder, your arms wrapped around the arm he was using to support himself.

“Probably one good hit left. Want any more?” he asked, taking a long inhale as the little roach lit up bright red.

You nodded silently, shifting up and scooting in more, hip to hip with him as your lips met once more. You kissed again, but this kiss felt different, the air electrified. Your body felt sluggish and heavy in the most pleasant way, a warm thrum building up between your thighs as you felt yourself begin to slick.

He pulled himself up, now free arm coming to wrap around your waist; you anticipated him pulling you a little closer, but instead, he used his strength to lift you with the one arm, gently swinging you into his lap and pulling a surprised little giggle from you, trailing into a slight cough as the last hit you’d shared left your lips and disappeared into the air. After a moment, you’d cleared your throat successfully and settled yourself, feeling your cheeks heat up just a little when the cleft of your ass pressed down onto his manhood through the thin blanket, finding it stiff. Your lower lip drew between your teeth as you slowly allowed your eyes to meet his, your arms winding around his neck as he smirked at you.

You exchanged a few more kisses, his hands slowly moving up your sides beneath the open coat, stroking you softly. Though his skin was rough and whorled, the radiation emanating from within producing an energy all its own, his touch was a great comfort and only made you relax further; there was no pain to be had from his hands, only pleasure, your body told you. Slackening further against his chest, you wound your palms up and down his torso, eyes following them, dipping your fingers lower and lower into the darkness under the blanket each time.

When John’s hands slowly ran back up, passing the sides of your breasts to tuck into the sleeves of the coat and sliding it ever so slightly down your shoulders, you made eye contact once more, his hands pausing as he looked at you, very clearly asking permission in the nonverbal way you’d come to develop. You hesitated for a breath before pulling your hands back, straightening your arms to allow him to tug the heavy garment the rest of the way off, laying it on the bedroll behind you as you leaned forward again, curling up against him as his arms wrapped around your bare back.

You still felt the unease, the trembling feeling in your stomach as you reclined nude in his lap, but to a much lesser degree than you ever had before, more a sensation of excited embarrassment than ashamed embarrassment, and you’d felt enough of the latter to know the difference. Leaning up just enough to look into his face, you smiled a little at him as his hands continued to stroke your back lovingly.

“How’s your ride, sunshine?” he asked after another few quiet moments passed, now stroking your sleep-mussed hair.

Grinning, you closed your eyes and leaned back the few inches you could for a moment. you felt pleasantly weighty and simultaneously floaty, swaying just a little as you hummed.

“I feel great. Good sleep and now this? I haven’t been this relaxed in quite a while.” you mused, bringing one hand up to cup his rough cheek, thumb sweeping along his thin lower lip. “Though, I don’t think last night hurt me on that front, at all. In fact, I have a theory about why I slept so well...”

Despite always feeling a certain degree of nervousness, exposure at your genuine expression of attraction, you tried hard to give the energy John gave you back to him, to reassure him that you wanted and...loved him as much as he did you. You always tried to return his flirtation in equal degrees, something you didn’t think he was quite used to. The hesitation you felt, the tension within holding you back when you wanted to love him loudly, enthusiastically, was a burden of your own and not one that you wanted to saddle him with. You knew that, as much as he may embrace and shield himself with his image as Hancock, wild, free-loving party-time mayor of Goodneighbor, in reality, John McDonough was really a very insecure man. Particularly after yesterday's events, which you were loathe to bring up directly, especially since he seemed to be in such an improved mood.

He smiled at you, wide and bright and genuine, very clear even in the still relative darkness of the room, leaning forward to kiss you again. Your legs wrapped around his hips tighter as the kiss deepened, pulling your bodies flush together as his mouth broke away from yous, trailing across your cheek, down your jaw and the column of your throat, settling in the hollow of your neck, bathing you with his tongue in that way that sent electric shocks down your spine. Combined with the tickling sensation of his heavy breath in your ear as he licked and kissed you, you quickly began squirming in his lap, flushing bright red in your hiding place against his shoulder.

The only thing that separated your bodies now was the thin fabric of the tattered blanket, and as you attempted to press yourself closer to him, you could feel him even clearer beneath you, prodding your inner thigh as you both slightly undulated against one another. To your surprise, you felt none of the typical seizing fear at the sensation, only more want; you buried your face further into his neck and let out a pitiful little whimper, hips grinding down harder.

John grunted in return, arms around you clenching just a little tighter as he throbbed noticeably against you. Your stomach tightened at this, the previously chilly room suddenly way too warm.

“John.”

His name left your lips for the umpteenth quietly, a tiny little huff of sexual frustration so quiet it barely touched your own ears, but seemed to reach his fine, as he squeezed you once more in response, holding you much firmer this time as his hips shifted beneath your own, arcing to rub himself along your increasingly sensitive seam. His lips left the spot they’d been tending to on your neck, nipping and sucking their way back up to your ear, breathless as he spoke to you in the hushed tone of a needy lover.

“Wanna go again?”

The question wasn’t just for show; no matter how insistently he was grinding himself against you, how desperately his hands may grasp you, you could say no if you wanted. No guilt tripping, no anger, no coercion. But knowing that only made you want him more, made you want to push away your option to refuse him even more insistently, even as you trembled in his lap.

Your lips found his throat, kissing at it sweetly and breathing wantonly to him, almost embarrassed by your own needy tone as you replied.

“Yes, please.”

Your body was loose and weighty as he lowered you down onto your back, the wool of his coat warm against your skin once more as he laid you down, the blanket falling away from his body and yours as you readjusted. He was kissing you again, rather chastely this time as his own warm body spread over top of yours, shielding you as he slowly kissed his way down your neck, across your chest, ghosting down across your breasts. As he moved his body further, he uncovered more and more of your own to the room, increasingly bright with the coming sunrise.

Pulling himself up onto his haunches between your feet, his hands stroked you gently as your heavy eyelids drifted shut. Rough palms brushed the sides of your breasts, cupping and groping them almost reverently, his breathing increasingly strained as his palms continued their southward exploration. You flinched a little as he brushed across the expanse of your midsection, which had grown softer during your time in Goodneighbor, but when he dropped his head to lightly kiss you there, you couldn’t help but giggle, gingerly cradling his head as he peppered your belly and hips with pecks.

Distracted by his gentle affections, you didn’t notice his other hand sliding up through the sheets before you felt him softly grab at the back of your thigh, sliding up over and across your hip as he sat up straight, leaving you pretty much entirely exposed. A little shudder ran up your spine, and you peeked at his face through barely open lids, watching him as he watched you. His left hand slid back up to knead and brush your breasts with his fingertips, swapping back and forth between the two as his right hand stroked the sensitive median between your naval and your mound. You bit back a giggle at the slight tickling sensation, instead giving a shudder as his fingers dipped lower, softly petting over the damp, dark curls that framed you.

Ever patient and ready to put in the work to prepare you, to move at your speed, he stayed that way for a while, paying thorough attention to your sensitive breasts while lightly teasing your apex, slowly re-acclimating you to his touch between your legs. As you slowly felt yourself building towards something, you relaxed, letting your thighs fall open further, and John took this as his sign to increase the boldness of his touches, sliding only the very tip of his long middle finger right down your slit. You gasped a little at the electric, but brief feeling of his rough finger pad ghosting over your swollen, sensitive bud.

Your eyes slowly slid back open, fixed on his face as he repeated these touches over and over for a few moments, his own dark gaze pinned on his hand as he stimulated you. Working to slick itself in response to his touch, your body gave a few little clenches around nothing, making you shiver as arousal wrapped around you in a ticklish gossamer curtain.

"I wanna try something." you blurted, garnering a sudden glut of confidence. John smiled at you curiously, pulling back enough to allow you some room to move.

You yanked yourself over him with far less grace than you'd have liked, but he didn't seem to notice in the slightest, his eyes glued boldly to the way your breasts bobbed and swayed with your moves. Peppering his mouth and face with kisses, you gave his chest a gentle push to urge him down fully onto his back. Your lips trailed down slowly, exploring the whorled skin of his chest, and he smirked at you, the tent he was pushing at you twitching. It was only now, this close and lingering, that you'd noticed he only had one nipple, the other simply absent along the plane of scarred muscle.

Pushing yourself further down his legs, your face came to around his navel and you pulled back to look at him, studying his reaction as you let your fingers play gently over his covered erection. A hiss flew from between his teeth, the sound vibrating just right down your spine and pushing you to grip him more firmly through the sheet, stroking back and forth slowly as you lowered yourself down onto your belly.

John was watching you incredibly close as his cock sprung into view, and it only spurred you on to run your tongue up the side of his shaft quicker, drawing a delicious shiver out of him. Your eyes locked with his as you dragged the tip up the underside, but by the time you closed your lips fully around the tip, his had screwed shut, his hands forming balled fists at his sides. Experimentally, you allowed your tongue to drag along the tip, doing small circles around it and tasting the slightly salty precum gathered there.

The piercing didn't feel as sharp against your tongue as you'd imagined it would, though it was an intriguing feeling nonetheless.

But John had other plans, it seemed, pouncing on you when you were most distracted, yanking himself free from your bewitching oral grip and pinning you down on your back once again. His hands were much faster and less gentle than the day before, eager and greedy and excitable as they groped at your breasts and tummy, slid wetly through your soaked folds. You tensed as he toyed briefly with your peak, but tensed more when he slid one, then two fingers inside you suddenly.

"Tease." he growled as he stretched you, his thumb playing harshly with your nub until you were nearly bowled over with a sudden orgasm nearly out of left field. The feeling of you tightening and gripping around his fingers must've been too much for him, as he was filling you for real before you were completely aware.

He wasn't nearly as gentle as he had been the night before, and the thrill knocked the air right out of you. The tempo of his thrusts was increasing with each passing moment, the blunt head of him beating against your tender cervix rhythmically as your body clenched and trembled around him, dancing on the edge of coming undone yet again. There was no hesitation from John as you let out a gasping shriek in response, your breathing uneven and shaky as your eyes struggled to focus. His hands gripped wherever he could reach with bruising intensity, the sharp, pinching pain of his fingertips digging into your thighs as he forced them open for him only adding to the pleasure you was feeling.

You felt his teeth ghost over your shoulder, replaced by his tongue as he seemed to grumble at himself chidingly. You let out a little whimper as you felt the sharp edge of his jaw disappear, your overstimulated brain fixating on the feeling of his teeth on your neck when he kissed you there. For a long time, you’d wondered what it would be like for him to bite you with real force. However, you couldn't ponder on the idea too long, interrupted by John's primal, almost absentminded growling.

“You know, if I were still human, I’d knock you up.” he said.

His words were low and hot in your ear as he drove himself in hard and deep once more, punctuating his statement with a growl. The words themselves frightened you, a threat to strip you of your autonomy in the name of staking a claim, the very thing that you'd given up everything to avoid. However, the fear, as well as the possessive connotation of the words, also brought forth another wave of arousal so intense that you tightened painfully around him, whimpering as he ripped you right to the edge of yet another orgasm.

He smirked at you, free hand moving to cup your sweaty cheek as he teased you with a series of half-strokes, body pushing insistently against your own; your face pressed back against him, leaning into his touch to ground you as you fluttered around him. However, that grounding touch was quickly ripped away as his grip moved to your waist, flipping you off him and onto your stomach so quickly it disoriented you, your grunts muffled into the grimy mattress.

There was a slick sound as he guided his leaking cock back to your entrance, your body tense as the head played across your slit. He bucked towards you wildly, and when he failed to properly catch, the little metal bar along the underside just barely caught against your bud in an unexpectedly delicious manner, once, twice, a sloppy third time. The sensation made you coo enthusiastically, tossing your sweaty hair and arching your back towards him like a cat at the peak of heat.

"Beg me, baby." he said, teasing across your entrance.

You felt an instant wash of heat up your spine and into your face, equal parts pure arousal and the most genuine sort of embarrassment, and the sadistic look in his own eyes didn't help. Though your brain was running on reserve power, distracted by all the amazing sensations and pulled in a hundred different directions by desire, you knew what he wanted from you, and you were just cognizant enough to squirm over it.

"Go on. Tell me what you want."

Another half-thrust, another teasing bump against your clit. You forced your ass as high in the air as it would go, your voice embarrassingly whiny and nasal when it finally broke free.

"Please, John."

He chuckled darkly at that.

"As much as I enjoy your manners, kid, I'm sorta looking for the opposite." he chuckled, letting the hand that wasn't gripping his erection play along your slit again. "Tell me."

He was teasing you as cruelly as he knew how, forcing you to feel the pressure of the leaking head just about to breech you without the satisfaction of actually following through, and that would have been enough to frustrate you into begging. However, his teasing around your clit had also grown in ferociousness, sending your hips desperately searching out his fingers, and it was more than enough to break you down.

"Please fuck me, John." you whispered.

"Sorry? Couldn't quite hear you." he smirked, and it pissed you off more than anything.

"Fuck me, John! Fuck me!" you demanded, voice slowly growing louder out of pure sexual frustration. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

The last word didn't properly land, stuttered by the way he suddenly slammed himself home again and nearly collapsed you completely, but you managed to brace yourself against the bed just as he began to rut into you with wild abandon. His heavy, warm balls slapped against your clit harshly, making you whine even sharper than before. Your own fingers fought their way between your thighs, rubbing tight and fast circles around your abused clit, and it made you quiver around him. The feeling made him growl harshly, and he actually nipped at the back of your shoulder.

"Where do you want it?" he asked.

Confused and partially distracted by your approaching orgasm, you didn't say anything at first, unsure of his meaning until he clarified a stroke or two later.

"Where do you want me to cum, baby?"

You didn't have the brain power to truly string together a sentence, but you did, shockingly, have just enough control to say exactly what he needed to hear to lose himself in you completely:

"Do it inside." you sighed, and it's all he'd needed to hear before absolutely exploding, gripping at you with bruising force and jamming his cock as deep as physically possible inside you. Like the night before, you could taste him filling you up, an electric, almost acidic tang lining the back of your throat as you felt your warm cunt overflow down your thigh.

Again, the two of you clung tightly to one another in the aftershocks, but this time felt different; there were no rivals, no threats to what you had here, only the presence of love and admiration and the pure, unadulterated desire to express those emotions physically. John pretty much immediately collapsed down beside you, his throbbing, softening cock still buried inside you as he held you flush against him, running his tongue along your sweaty, bruised throat and humming.

"Man, you smell sexy like this, all full of me." he murmured, teeth playing along your earlobe. "Y'know, Garvey's lucky his nose isn't as sensitive as mine. I'd take you out there and walk you by him a dozen times just to make a point."

"Oh, John. Don't mention it. It was so embarrassing for everybody involved. He really thought that little chin lift was going to seal the deal and I have to live with the knowledge of that for the rest of my life!" you replied, playfully clamping your thighs on his hand as your cheeks heated.

The smile he flashed you was a warm one, content and confident in a way you didn't often see from the older man. You weren't sure you'd ever known him to be this...gratified.

"I love you, sunshine."

"I love you, too, John." you smiled, settling back against his chest to resume the lazy morning you'd been sharing together before the distraction. Things were quiet again, the only real sound the breeze in the trees, shaking and dancing together joyously as they shaded your perfect hideaway.

[imthepunchlord]

What's your thoughts about the unifications?

Conceptually, unification works. Honestly, I think it makes sense being able to dual wield Miraculous. Especially working off positive and negative energy/yin-yang.

It works off that theme of balance, having two different energies being able to work together.

But, much like anything in canon, I feel the concept could've gone farther.

Like, I think it'd be neat that unification could lead to animals that don't exist as Miraculous:

Ladybug + any feline creates a Leopard themed hero.

Any bug + any reptile creates a Dragonfly themed hero.

Any reptile + any bird creates a Dragon themed hero.

Any cat + any bird creates a Griffin themed hero.

Horse + Fish could've made a Seahorse themed hero.

Cat + Goat could've made a Chimera themed hero.

Not that they really went that way and just went weird with the naming, combing the names of preexisting heroes instead of letting characters name themselves and working off their own unique personalities. Like, instead of Pegabug, I could've seen Marinette calling herself Appaloosa or if you want to go punny, Appleloosa.

I also think that dual wielding Miraculous shouldn't be that difficult, as pairs are something that always exist, and I can see the body handling matching with two different types of magical energy. Now, wielding more than 2 I can see being set up to take a toll on the body as there's more magical energy to work off of, and the higher you go the more tired you're going to be.

Though I could just be biased as I feel the temporary heroes weren't necessary and Marinette and Adrien could've juts unified with the rest and continue to handle things; I also feel that, post meeting Fu and him able to see that they were trustworthy and dedicated and were able to succeed despite HM having the being an adult edge, they should've gotten a 2nd Miraculous to have full time, not only to help give them a boost, but also allow continued growth.

Ladybug/Tikki did help with Marinette's growth in confidence and being a leader, but there's nothing else TIkki is adding to her growth (which I find it's kinda debatable how much Tikki really added to Marinette's over all growth), but at this time, Ladybug and Tikki just work off this is a responsibility than something for Marinette to grow as a character. And now she's developing an Atlas complex and that anxiety is getting worse with the pressure and expectation of the role and no one there telling Marinette she needs to prioritize and value her own needs and wants. I don't even know if this girl knows how to relax at this point. And that there is the next phase for Marinette's growth. She needs to learn to put down boundaries, to say no, to not involve herself as much, and think about her own needs and wants, cause you can't really help others until you help yourself.

Cat/Plagg was good for Adrien to gain that independence he wants, be more rebellious against his father, and to self-prioritize. But now he prioritizes his wants way too much, doesn't really treat heroing with the seriousness required nor has he stepped up as a leader and equal to Ladybug, and still readily endangers himself, to the point of self-sacrificing. And that's the next phase for his growth, get a Miraculous and kwami that will address those, learn to be more serious in fights, not to say he can no longer be a wisecrack but save the flirting and pranks for night patrols not akuma fights, step up as a leader and truly share that burden, which would've helped his partner rely on him more and trust his capability more, and address that self-sacrificing. Either learn to be more cautious or think a little bit more before acting. Like, great, you saved your partner by sacrificing yourself, but you also left her alone to deal with things, and what if the fight went poorly because she was alone, and she fails, and that sacrifice was pointless. I don't know how many more times he did so, but man it needed to be addressed.

Another factor is that unification could've been extra interesting in that combing Miraculous could've created new powers through the combination of preexisting powers.

Like Shelter + Venom could've created Shell Shock, where hitting the shield would shock and stun a target.

Shelter + Cataclysm or Clout could've made Bombshell, put up a protective dome and it sends out a destructive blast or shock wave around you.

Mirage + Cataclysm could've made Nightmare, where the illusion creates someone's worst fears.

Second Chance + Cataclysm could've made Hissterics, getting a target to live in the worst timeline.

Time travel could've existed as a unification power through combining Horse and Snake/Rabbit, if the latter still has a time power.

Though neat an idea it is, it is something that would work better with fewer Miraculous, as 19 that canon has is a lot of powers to think of possibly combining. That is 361 matches to think about and how they make a new power. And now that I got 35 I won't be doing the concept either, even more so as I'm going with Miraculous having 2 powers to offer.

So unification is a neat concept, but I think it could've gone further if they were more creative. Definitely prefer it to the potions.

[waterfallofspace]

What A Way To Start A Year

T/im learns a little something about karma, friends, and care. Seems even J/on isn't quite as cold as he seems.

A M/agnus A/rchives fic, set somewhere pre-season 1. Shouldn't have any spoilers, but proceed with caution just incase~ (nothing late game, just character dynamic things)

Welcome to "I meant for this to be a little drabble and I wrote 3k words"~ Having a bit of hyperfixation and burn out as I started this new year, soooo I decided to make T/im suffer <3 Not promising quality seeing as I wrote this all in the span of tonight, but consider it a lil 'too long' drabble, and happy new years!

Best way to start off the new year, giving one of your lil guys a lil snz <3

Characters: T/im, M/artin, S/asha, and J/on. Word Count: 3.9k

(CW: There is some swearing, and light descriptions of high fevers)

Christmas had been good this year, maybe the best it had in a long time. Life of the party as always, Tim had enjoyed getting to spend it with his old, and new, colleagues. On top of that, Jon had been laid up with a pretty awful cold for a couple days leading up to it, so he wasn’t around to crush any brilliant ideas Tim came up with. 

This led to the budget receiving a fairly substantial hit, though many researchers donated to the cause when they learned this borrowing wasn’t exactly approved. Hell, even Elias had pitched in, claiming something or other about ‘archivists fit for the job not exactly growing on trees’, and wanting to ‘save some of Jon’s sanity’. 

“Tim? Are you even listening to me?”  

Pulled back to the conversation at hand, Tim lifts his gaze to the taller man fidgeting nervously in front of him. Martin was never one for confrontations, and usually the first ‘no’ would have been more than enough to lead to a string of apologies for even asking. Today however, he seems to have grown a spine. At the worst possible moment. 

“Oh come on,” Martin continues, missing the groan slipping from Tim’s throat. “Even Jon agreed to it!” 

“I’m not really in the party mood,” Tim retorts, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, Jon didn’t agree to celebrate, he agreed not to stop the celebration. Not the same thing.” 

From across her desk, Sasha gives a low chuckle. “He’s got you there, Martin.”

“Can you at least give it a little thought before turning it down?” Martin insists, completely out of character for someone usually so eager to please. 

What the hell has gotten into him today? He didn’t even seem to enjoy himself that much at the Christmas party. Sure, he had a few drinks and mingled with the staff, but he’d left as soon as it was over, not waiting around for chatting like Tim and Sasha.

Clearing his throat with a grimace, Tim casts Sasha a dark look as she chuckles again. Knowing far too much, as usual. Especially when it came to him. If it was anyone else, Tim would hate it with all his being, but given that it’s Sasha… well it’s a welcome invasion. 

Still, it would be nice if she didn’t rat him out. And to Martin of all people, well let’s just say he saw what happened when Jon was sick. Yeah, passing on that one. Attention is great, Tim lives for it, but the coddling? Not really his style. 

“hiEH– guh…”

Damn, that had been a close one. Thankfully Martin seems oblivious, though Sasha sits up in her chair, reaching down into a drawer to fish something out. 

Turning his focus back to Martin, Tim provides an offer, desperate to just have the interaction come to an end. 

“Fine, I’ll show up, but I don’t want any part in planning it.” 

“Oh of course, I’ll handle all the details, I mean it’s just a new years party, how much can there really be to do? I mean food, timing, gotta make sure we have keys to the building– oh but if Jon’s there, that shouldn’t be a problem…” Martin says, rambling beginning to fade into the background as Tim finds himself unable to- 

“hH– ek’CHhiew!” 

“-Oh, bless you!” Martin says, his own thoughts long forgotten. 

Unable to get a word out, Tim merely waves a hand, ducking into his shoulder for another, “eTChhew!” 

“Bles-” 

And another, “iTSChh’ew!” 

“Oh ble-” 

And another, “ehh– kTChh’iew!” 

Silently Sasha stands, handing Tim a pack of tissues. Must have been what she was looking for in the desk. Once again, knowing more than she should, of course she picked up on his patterns. 

Accepting them gratefully, Tim pulls a few out and roughly rubs at his nose, pointedly avoiding Martin’s worried gaze. Gripping his still trembling nose through the tissue, Tim sucks in a tight breath through his teeth, holding for a beat, before finally spinning around in his chair for a final- 

“hH’ETCSHh-ieuw! Whew, bless me.” 

Martin’s hands are fidgeting again, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself as Tim gives his nose a light massage through the tissue. He’s aware enough not to point it out, but is nearly shaking with the effort of suppressing his concerns. 

With a sigh, Tim meets his eyes. “I’m fine, Martin. I always sneeze like that.” He leaves out ‘when I’m sick’. It also happens if he’s suffering allergies, though he doubts that would be a point in his defense given it’s the middle of winter. 

“Yeah he’s not kidding,” Sasha pipes up, throwing Tim a wink as he glares. “You should hear him in spring, once it starts he can be going for hours.” 

“I wouldn’t say hours, Sash-” 

“Remember the cherry blossom incident?” Sasha interrupts, sending a sugary smile over to Martin. “He was wrecked for the rest of the day, I was almost certain he was never gonna stop. Even considered giving a statement here, that reaction was almost supernatural.” 

Tim winces, an audible moan slipping from his lips. “We swore to never speak of it again.” 

Sasha laughs, Tim giving her another playful glare from behind his tissues. “You swore that, I did no such thing.” 

Thankfully Martin doesn’t pry, having enough common sense to offer a polite chuckle, and offer some excuse about ‘planning’. Still, he can’t help himself from shooting a meek “I hope you feel better soon” over his shoulder, Tim giving him finger guns in return. 

“This is karma, you know,” Sasha calls after Martin’s outside earshot. “You took pleasure in Jon’s suffering, so now it’s your turn to suffer the same fate.” 

“No, thi- eTChhew! Scuse me,” Tim says, rubbing his nose with the tissue one last time before depositing it in his nearly overflowing trash can. Another tissue is plucked as his eyes begin to water, nostrils flaring with reckless abandon. Never just one. 

“kTChh’uew! hh’iTChh –uew! Tihhckles… eTCHh! etchh’uh! hiehh–” 

The last one toys with him, tracing the rims of his nostrils, back up his sinuses, a gentle itch that seems to burn against every inch of his nose. Finally, with a desperate gasp, Tim ducks into his wrist for the last, “heh’ATChhh –iew!” 

“Many blessings. Sounds like you need them,” Sasha offers with a wince, tossing another pack of tissues over, which Tim catches with a single hand, the other still gripping his nose. 

After taking a moment to clean himself up, Tim shoots her his signature smile, ignoring the eye roll she shoots back. “Where was I?” 

“Admitting this is karma?” 

“It’s not karma, it’s lack of common sense. Going to a party where a coworker is sick, and still drinking and eating the same meals” Tim says, aiming a rough cough into his sleeve. 

Sasha winces once more at the quality of the cough, hands rummaging through her drawers once more as she tosses a reply back. “And yet you’re the only one who caught it. Seems like karma to me.” 

Closing the distance between them in a single stride, Sasha places a hand on Tim’s shoulder, voice softening. “It’s two days till new years, why don’t you go home and try to get some rest? I doubt Martin will object, and I’ll cover for you with Jon.” 

Before Tim can form his rebuttal, Sasha places a box of paracetamol and a jar of vapor rub in front of him. Nodding his thanks, Tim lets out another harsh cough into his arm, leaning as far away from Sasha as he can manage. 

With a light rub to his shoulder, Sasha walks to the door, holding it open with a pointed look. “Go home, you sound awful.” 

“Alright, alright. I got the message. hH’ETchhiew!” Tim says, gathering his care package and beginning his walk down the hallway. 

“If I hear the rest of that fit happening in this building, I’m telling Martin how ill you really are,” Sasha calls after him, a smile flashing over her face as Tim holds up his hands in mock surrender, before ducking back into his arm with another muffled burst. 

— 

“You look horrible.” 

Tim manages a weary smile from behind the tightly wound scarf. “Thagk you.” 

Martin winces, standing in the doorframe, seemingly oblivious to the winter chill soaking into Tim’s bones. Even just the walk from the train station was hell on earth, standing out here is doing him no favours. 

Turning away with a throat scraping cough, Tim manages to clear the congestion enough to finish the sentence somewhat understandably. A great feat, given how fast his voice is retreating. “May I remind you that I’m only here because you insisted.” 

“Right, well I… I didn’t know how bad-” Martin begins, realizing spreading across his face like a wildfire as a chill leaves Tim breathless. “Oh god, I’m making you freeze to death while you’re already this sick, I’m so sorry, come in, I’ll go make you a tea.” 

Tim nods his thanks as he piles inside the warm institute, cursing his aching lungs as each breath of warm air seems to burn them from the inside out. Martin rushes away, nearly crashing into a few researchers as he makes his frantic dash for the kitchen. 

The scarf is reluctantly removed, a shudder running through Tim’s back as the warm air does nothing to soothe what he’s now certain is a growing fever. A few researchers wave to him, offering some idle chit-chat as he makes his way inside.

For the most part, people give him a wide berth, apparently he looks as bad as he feels. Tissues in hand, gripping them like a lifeline, Tim finds his way to a couch and lets himself sink into it. The party buzzes around him, fading into background noise. 

Martin returns soon after, the mug vibrating slightly as he attempts to steady his hand. “I wasn’t sure what kind you’d want, we have a pretty limited amount, but I have a few extras in my desk– oh I could have probably found one for colds and flus, I’m not sure which this is, I thought cold before but you look-” 

“Martin,” Tim interrupts, voice cutting uncomfortably through his raw throat. “Can I have the cup?” 

“Oh, right, sorry!” Martin says, a sheepish grin crossing his face, nerves more than anything else, as he hands Tim the mug. Tim gives another appreciative nod, taking a cautious sip. 

The warm liquid feels like heaven against his throat, and he barely manages to choke back a whimper. The flavour is still a mystery, Martin never actually got to that part. Given how little he can taste at the moment, seems it’s gonna remain that way. Still, the heat beginning to warm his chest is a welcome relief, and Tim has to fight to keep his eyes from drifting shut…

“Watch out!” 

The voice rouses him, his eyes snapping open just in time to witness Jon dropping to his knees in front of the couch. The realization doesn’t sink in for another minute, Tim blinking the tired from his eyes and trying to figure out why people are staring… and why there’s a hand on his finge– 

Oh, the tea. Thankfully Jon’s reflexes seemed to kick in just in time, his hands guiding Tim’s cup to the table next to him. Judgement clouds the boss's eyes as he turns back, fully ready to chastise Tim, no doubt. Jon opens his mouth, one hand beginning to point, but as his eyes scan Tim’s form, his demeanor changes instantly. 

“You don’t seem well.” Jon’s voice is still firm, but with a hint of something Tim can’t quite place. On anyone else, he’d call it concern. On Jon… perhaps concern isn’t far off, though the underlying criticism of the statement irritates him. 

“I wonder why that could be? It’s almost as if someone came to the Christmas party sick enough to fall asleep standing. Twice.” Tim says, sarcasm lining his words, alongside the congestion he can’t seem to fully shake. 

“Well in that case,” Sasha chimes in, cheerful voice a natural antithesis to the misery coursing through Tim’s system. “Seems you’re halfway there!” 

“Hey, I was lying down, that’s hardly the sahh… same thing– hH’ETchh!” 

“Here we go,” Sasha says, already turning on her heel to find a tissue box as Tim’s hitches increase in desperation. 

“aHTChh’ew! gn’tchhew!” 

“Bless,” Jon offers, a brief confusion crossing his face as Sasha laughs, shaking her head. 

“He’s not done,” She says, handing over the tissue box. 

Tim grabs for it blindly, too caught up in the fit to even attempt dignity. Still, the eyes on him do leave him with a hint of embarrassment, and the onslaught is muffled as best he can manage. “hH’MMpshhew! eMPFShh’ieh! hh’MFSHhueh!” 

Blessings sound out from the room, Tim managing to wave a hand towards the ones offering them, eyes still watering. As the fit seems to stall, he lowers his tissues, red nose now visibly twitching. 

“Are you alright?” Jon asks, the hint of concern from before now plainly evident. That’s frankly more alarming than it should be, and Tim finds himself wanting to… reassure the boss. 

“I’m okay, it’s juhh… j-just… huhh–” But it seems his nose has other plans, a tissue being raised once more as Tim paws at the appendage. “‘Scuhhse me, I still have… hahhve to… to… hiHh– eTCHh’ew! hk’ASCHh–oo!” 

This time the tickle fades with the final pitchy sneeze, Tim letting out a low groan as he mashes his nose into the ever growing collection of tissues he’s clutching. A few people call out final blessings, Sasha laughing out hers as Tim’s face goes red once more. 

Martin picks this time to enter the room with drinks, Tim letting his eyes flutter shut as the focus shifts off his misery. A gentle touch keeps him from drifting off to sleep, prying open an eye to find Sasha settling onto his left. 

“Careful, don’t want to catch this,” Tim manages, leaning against his right shoulder to muffle another stream of chesty coughs. Sasha winces as it goes on past the realm of comfort, her hand finding his back. 

“Don’t worry about me, I haven’t earned this cold, I didn’t make use of Jon’s or your suffering,” She says, the playful tone not masking the growing worry in her posture. 

While she can read him like a book, she’s no mystery to him either. The tension in her fingers, absentmindedly stroking patterns on his back. The way she subconsciously tries to support his body weight, despite them both sitting. The look in her eyes when he manages to stall the coughing long enough to meet them. 

With this brief respite from the attack, Sasha takes the chance to bring Tim’s tea back, his fingers wrapping around the warm mug. The first few sips burn, his lungs protesting, begging to return to their efforts to expel all the irritation. By the third, however, the warmth is spreading once more, easing the spasms. 

“Alright?” Sasha asks, beginning to stand from the couch. Tim nods his reply, taking another slow sip. “Think you’ll make it till midnight? We’ve still got a few hours to go.” 

He nods his approval again, not yet trusting his voice enough to make an attempt. Sasha simply smiles, easing back into the party that– Tim had almost forgotten existed. That fever must be worse than he thought, given how loud it is. A fact that’s now pounding against his head in harmony with his heartbeat. 

The party continues on, Sasha and Martin taking turns checking in on Tim as he slips rapidly in and out of consciousness. Seconds turn to hours, and before he knows it, it’s two minutes to midnight. 

As Tim blinks against the harsh fluorescent lighting, it’s Jon that stands before him, hand hovering near his side. Tim begins to speak, breaking off into a cough as his voice comes out rough with sleep and congestion. 

“What’s up boss?” He manages with the second attempt, not missing Jon’s wince at the nasal quality. 

“You simply look… well, the festivities are nearly over, I was just inquiring as to…” Jon seems to get stuck, eyes wandering down to the couch as he finishes. “I know you took the train here, I was seeing if you needed an escort home.” 

“How kind, I’d be delighted to have your accompaniment,” Tim responds, the wit clouding the fact he… hadn’t actually considered needing to go home. Jon seems to take this answer as satisfactory, ignoring all the sarcasm as he gives a tight nod and an out of practice smile. 

From across the room Martin calls out, something about a countdown. Tim attempts to pull himself to a stand, finding Sasha’s arm around his waist, guiding him to the wall. Leaning against it, he lets his rough voice join the chorus as they count into the new year. 

Despite how the lights and noise had pounded into his skull, everyone chanting in unison helps Tim realize that… there actually aren’t that many people here. Aside from his coworkers, there’s only a few researchers, and Elias is not in attendance.

Honestly, thank whatever cosmic being may exist for that one, he had been none too fond of Jon’s arriving sick. Tim shudders to think what he would have said about this state. He shouldn’t have come, but… something about how insistent Martin was… well he just couldn’t disappoint that loveable idiot. 

Somehow Tim finds he’s managed to keep up with the counting, despite being worlds away in his thoughts. As they approach the final numbers, a feathery sensation begins to spread through his nostrils- no. 

Absolutely not, this is not the time. It’s never just one, there’s not enough people here, someone’s gonna notice. And I mean, it’s not like he’s hiding the fact he feels like death, but… drawing that much attention is also not the goal. 

“Five! Four!”

“hiehh- h’ngTchh!” He manages to stifle the first, the congestion pounding in his head as the tickle seems to only get worse. 

“Three! Two!” 

“I cad’t– nNDtch! nGTCh’uh!” 

“One–” 

As the cheers begin to erupt, Tim ducks into the tissues with a scraping, “ehg’TCHhiew!” 

“Happy new years!” 

“yiEShh’iew! etchh’uh! hH’AESHH –oo!” Tim dips into his hands again, managing to sink down against the wall as he lets out a congested blow, ending the fit.

“What a way to ring in the new year,” Comes Sasha’s voice, her form blocking the light from Tim’s eyes as he looks up, fever blurring his vision.

“Shud ub.” 

“Christ Tim, you sound awful,” Jon adds, his form appearing behind Sasha’s. 

“Thagks boss,” Tim retorts, groaning as he notices a third form, Martin’s nervous fidgeting easy to spot even from this angle. Martin remains silent, though his eyes seem to hold more concern than any of them, and… guilt? Or maybe that’s just the delirium. 

Glancing up to meet Sasha’s gaze, Tim offers a weary, “Tibe to go hobe?” 

She nods softly, kneeling to help him to his feet, Martin wordlessly taking his other arm. Jon stands off to the side, hesitating. What for, who knows. All Tim can focus on is one step after the other, just gotta make it home, then he can sleep. For the rest of forever, at this rate. 

As they get to the door, Martin helps wrap the scarf around Tim’s neck, forcing him to lift it from its perch against Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha, for her part, supports his weight with ease, she was always stronger than she looked. 

Martin keeps casting glances towards Tim, obviously fretting over something. Too tired to manage his usual charm, Tim gives Martin the softest look he can manage. “Jusd say id, please. You’re makigg me nervous.”

“I’m so sorry I asked you to come, you’re obviously so unwell, and I know I didn’t really know that at the time, but I should have, or at least texted and checked in, I just… I wanted us all to get along so bad and I thought if you came it would mean more fun because you’re always so lively and good at talking to people and-” 

Tim holds up a hand, eyes glazing over as Martin stops short, breath coming almost as rapidly as Tim’s. After a minute goes by, Martin starts to open his mouth, seeming confused by the interruption, before nearly jumping out of his skin as Tim ducks into his fist. 

“eTCHh’ew! hH’YEAShh –iew! Sorry, I feld those cobigg… waid– hih’ETCHhew! heAYSHh’oo!” Tim ducks down again, Sasha grabbing him tighter to support the harsh shudders as he attempts to keep his balance. 

“Oh bless you,” Martin offers, voice coming out timid. Tim gives him, what he hopes is, a warm smile despite the fever taking hold of the last corners of his mind.

“If I didn’t wanna cobe, I would have stayed hobe. I dod’t blame you.” 

Martin nods silently, a relief seeming to flood his face. Taking his place once more supporting Tim, they move towards the exit. Opening the door, the first wave of cold floods the entryway, and a chill so violent runs through Tim that both Martin and Sasha take a step back to brace him. 

It’s now that Jon speaks up, voice strained with a type of worry Tim hadn’t heard before. “No, we’re absolutely not doing this, I refuse.” 

The trio turn towards him. Though perhaps a more accurate description is that Martin and Sasha turn, Tim simply goes along for the ride. Martin mumbles something about ‘no other choice’, but Sasha asks what Jon’s on about. 

“It’s too cold out there, it’s the middle of the damn night, there’s no way I’m letting him go home like this.” 

“And what do you suggest we do as an alternative? He can’t stay here-” Sasha begins, pausing as Jon turns towards her. 

“Why not? I’m the archivist, this is my archive,” Jon begins, pausing for a moment, before adding, “Well, Elias’s, but I hardly think he’d suggest we send an employee home in this weather while they’re this sick. That’s just bad management, he’ll freeze to death before even reaching the train.” 

As if to confirm this assumption, Tim shudders violently, ducking into his chest with a tired, “hh’eshhew! eTCHh’iew!” followed by a heavy sigh. Martin mumbles something about covering, but quickly silences himself as Tim begins to tremble again. 

Sasha gives Jon a look, seeming to read him for any hints of doubt, perhaps searching for an ulterior motive. After a brief pause, their eyes meeting, she gives a tight nod, approval of some kind. 

“Come on Martin, let’s get him back to that couch, he can sleep there for the night,” Sasha directs, Martin nodding his acceptance. 

Tim manages to catch snippets of the conversation as they get him settled. Jon fetching him a blanket he keeps in his office. Martin providing some more tea. Sasha grabbing tissues and medication for when he wakes up. Something about Jon sleeping in his office so he’s not alone, and Sasha coming in early to help him home. 

With his final bout of consciousness, Tim holds up a hand, the conversation immediately pausing. “Thagk you guys. And… esSHhh’ew! And, I’b sorry.” 

All three stare at him for a minute, before Sasha breaks first. Her laughter fills the silence, Martin joining in soon after, and even Jon letting a few chuckles slip out. When they’ve finally collected themselves, Sasha gives Tim a warm smile. 

“Sleep well, Tim. I’ll come fetch you in the morning.” 

With a content sigh, Tim lets his eyes drift shut again, his consciousness fading to the soft hum of his friends in the background. 

Alright, so maybe coddling isn’t quite so bad after all.

[binary-not-found]

Episode 13 season 2 🛳

And everyone cheered! 🥳

I really wanted with everything in me to post this episode immediately after it came out, but things happened and it's only now that I have a chance to do so, let's get started.

I know if you guys are at least a little like me you screamed the moment you heard Lucy's voice for the first time after months and you screamed even more when the camera showed her 🤭

"You applied for the job to avoid dealing with your feelings for me."

Do you want to know how much Kate loves Lucy? She mentions the real reason Lucy applied for that assignment as a way of letting her know she can say it, plus it's fun to call her out 🤫

"I miss you."

I love the fact that this call exists, that it was just them catching up, talking about things not too important and taking the opportunity to let each other know that they already want to see each other again 🥰

"Be careful."

Nothing else to say, I love that they love each other and I love their love

Now, I've been saving this for a month, let's talk about Special Agent Afloat Lucy Tara in all her glory 🤗

Let's start with the fact that I know for a fact that she never believed what happened was what it looked like

Lucy is still a junior agent within NCIS, we are used to seeing her taking orders and not giving them, giving ideas and waiting for them to be approved, but in this case we got to see her work on her own, proving that no matter if she is the least experienced agent in her team, she can stand on her own

Another thing I loved to see in her, is that she immediately noticed the sailor getting uncomfortable in the presence of his superior and then gave him the opportunity to get out of there, he didn't say anything but she immediately noticed the change of attitude in the way he expressed himself as opposed to when it was just the two of them

Once again when talking to the "fun boss" she knew something was wrong, Lucy knew she was the one who was hiding something and for a moment she thought it was the sailor the woman was dating

One thing I can't not mention is the way she didn't hesitate to clarify the authority she had within the case, she was the one who was going to solve what had happened and the moment he asked something he shouldn't have, meddling in her work, she made sure to make this clear to him

My baby has grown so much 🥺

Once again Lucy proving she's smarter than all of us

Pausing just to tell you how lovely it is to me that Ernie and Lucy were having video calls while she was on the boat, it shows how much they love and care for each other

Back to the case, I told you guys that she knew something was wrong. Even though everything is technically solved she knew it couldn't be that easy, she knew there was something else she wasn't seeing, and she was right.

She casually unpacked everything while making time to find exactly what she knew was there

That's the expression she always makes when she knows she's right and we love to see it

And trusting her instinct, not settling for the answer she had gotten, she found the truth

This episode became one of my favorites, because it allowed us to see how much Lucy has grown as an agent and to see her work on her own using everything she's learned and proving she can do it. I think a lot of Jane's example, she always looks for the answer of things until she is sure that what she got is really the truth and Lucy proved to have learned this during this episode.

That's it for Lucy in this episode. I'll be back later with Kate's scenes

Lucy episode 13

[purposefully-lost]

Chris reached towards the dash to shut off the AC. He'd been parked in the farthest corner of a travel stop parking lot for the past hour, and now that the sky had been dark for a while, the air had finally seemed to cool down. He leaned against the window as he listened to his phone ring for the third time, counting each repetition until he was certain it was just going to send him to voice mail again.

"Hello?" Asked a voice on the other line. He'd been so sure that he wouldn't get an answer that it had to repeat itself. Chris blinked as it registered that he'd finally gotten through, sitting up in his seat.

"Hey," he started, before he broke into a grin, something that was more for the man on the other side of the phone than it was anything else. "Hey, Charlie, how've you been?"

"Uh.. fine," came the answer. "S'been good. Hey, I uh, I- I'm sorry I missed your call, the other times. I was kinda busy."

"Busy doin' what?" Chris asked, and now the grin was genuine, a teasing tone slipping into his voice. It was hard not to tease Charlie, sometimes. The kid just made it easy. "It's almost eleven. You're not workin' this late, are you?"

"N- no, I just.. I had shit to do. Clean, or whatever. Wh- why're you callin', anyway?"

"I can't just call 'cause I wanna hear from you?" He asked. His smile started to slip. He glanced up at his review mirror and frowned when he realized he was no longer catching a glint of something wet when he looked towards the backseat. The blood had dried. It was gonna be a real bitch to scrub it out and he wondered if he shouldn't just get something to lay over it to save himself the trouble. Couldn't be helped now, though. He had another target he was waiting on. "It's been a while, man. I just wanted to hear how things were goin'."

"Well, uh..." There was something hesitant in Charlie's voice. There almost always was, but there was a catch to it just then that, for Chris' whole life, had always seemed to spell trouble. He frowned as he Iistened. "It hasn't been too bad. I've, uh... I've mostly just been.. workin', so, y'know. Uh.."

"You've gotta get a hobby or somethin'. You still keepin' an eye on those horses for Charlotte?"

"Uh, yeah, sometimes, I guess. I guess- I- I guess I did, uh, meet someone, actually. Kind of. That's been..." There was a short sound from the other side of the line, a half of a laugh that sounded like the happiest thing he'd heard from Charlie in a long time. "That's been goin' good, actually."

"Met someone?" Chris teased. That was the kind of thing he wanted to hear! The last time they'd talked, Charlie had sounded like he was having a real rough time. They all were. But maybe he'd finally gone and got himself some friends, if not something even more than. "What's her name?"

"Uh..." There was a long pause. He was starting to wonder if Charlie had either forgotten or was just plain bullshitting him when he finally continued. "Uh, Victory. He- I- he goes by Vi, usually."

He? Chris paused, letting that settle, then fell into another laugh. He! God, of course it would be a he. He heard Charlie start to stutter again and quickly cut him off. "Victory?" He asked. "That's one hell of a name. Maybe I'll have to come by and meet this guy sometime."

"Yeah," Charlie said, and then a little more energy poured into his voice. "Yeah, you- you should. He's.. he's really somethin'." Chris could hear the smile as it must've found his brother's face. "He's been really good to me. I'd love for you to meet him."

"I'm happy for you, man. Listen, I-" He glanced up and cut himself off. A truck he recognized had just pulled into the lot. He mouth set into a hard frown. "I've gotta go. I'll see you around, though, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll--"

Chris ended the call. It was time to go.

[implausiblyjosh]

Been watching Superman & Lois recently, and with the 3rd season wrapping up, I wanted to talk about what I saw as "Drama Busywork" in this season.

One of the b-plots in this season is that Jordan, one of Clark & Lois's sons, is dealing with Teenage Issues. In episode S3 E12, he sees people make fun of his superhero alter ego right in front of him & he responds like most kid superheroes do in these types of shows, basically saying "so what if this new superhero is a kid and wears goggles? seems like this new superhero is kinda badass and saved some kids!"

That exchange makes his ex, Sarah, think that Jordan doesn't care about his secret and having a secret identity… despite the fact that she saw the entire conversation start to finish and saw him keep the secret, all he did was kinda go "whoa hold on peers, what if the kid hero is cool and awesome instead???" Sarah, going off of this wild interpretation of events laid out in front of her, tells her mom, Lana Lang.

But this game of telephone telephones-back? It starts as "heyyy what if the new kid superhero is cool haha", then Sarah sees this as "Jordan doesn't care about his secret, so I shouldn't have to care about keeping his powers a secret", which Lana Lang takes to Clark and Lois as "he cares too much about his alter ego", and finally Clark & Lois go to Jordan with "you don't think people knowing about your alter ego is bad". And this last point isn't in a "People should know Superman and Clark Kent are the same person" way, it's in a "People should know Superman exists" way.

So Jordan doesn't actually get to address the core problems here, which are:

1) he is a bit of a Teen Weirdo dealing with Teenage Adolescence on top of being a Teen Hero

2) His relationship with his ex, Sarah, is Bad

Watching the season finale right now, and we haven't gotten any meaningful closure on this Jordan arc. So, like, what's the point?

It really feels like meaningless drama that isn't really adding much to the story or the characters, it's just giving them something to do. Just a lot of characters handling things horribly, AND characters who aren't handling things poorly have the memories of goldfish.

One of the other characters, DOD Grandpa (cannot remember his character's name, but he's Lois Lane's dad) is the one who got Jordan on this whole alter ego track! But when everything comes to blows about Jordan wanting recognition as his alter ego, he gets to just kinda peace out of that whole conflict.

Another example from this same episode is a Clark and Kyle interaction, part of the C-Plot of Jonathan (Lois & Clark's other son) feeling kinda left out of the whole family because he doesn't have powers like his brother and he's not someone of worldwide importance like his mom.

Jonathan has been working as a firefighter in-training with Kyle, Lana Lang's ex. Recent developments have made it so Kyle knows Clark is Superman. This has had an impact on how Kyle treats Jonathan, since Kyle knows that not only is this Superman's son, but also Kyle used to be Clark's biggest bully. Clark goes to Kyle and asks to not treat Jonathan any different because Clark is Superman, and clearly and concisely states that this is about Jonathan not wanting special treatment and Jonathan wants to make it on his own merits.

Kyle would literally not be receptive to that idea from anyone other than Superman, he's still in "this man could kill me and coulda killed me in high school when I was his biggest bully" mode of thinking. So, how does Kyle take this new info to Jonathan? like Jonathan went and ratted to his dad! Even though Jonathan clearly states that's not what happened, Clark just overheard him talking about work! Jonathan's obviously comfortable talking to Kyle about these issues, or else he wouldn't expand on them and defend himself by basically saying "what, you expect me to never talk about work outside of work?"

This is the drama equivalent of worksheets. This is busywork. I don't feel like anything productive is happening here in these interactions, either as character work or as narrative. This doesn't get into the fact that a lot of underlying issues here are just… not really brought up again!

If we focus back on my two points with Jordan, there's one that's just normal High School Drama Stuff. The second is his relationship with Sarah, his ex. Despite this second point being a huge driving force in a lot of Jordan's B-Plot (I'd argue the reason he wants to be recognized as his alter ego is directly caused by this awful relationship) there isn't much movement on dealing with the relationship.

This angle is completely unresolved. The Sarah & Jordan angle starts going sour because Sarah cheats on Jordan over summer camp. They talk it out, and are still together despite it, until Sarah decides because of her own cheating she just wants to be friends. Jordan is (understandably!) heartbroken about this, and tries to continue to be friends with her and it bleeds into that first point. Now he's gotta deal with this heartbreak, on top of the usual High School Drama Stuff. It is the catalyst for all these other things in his life, and all his actions, but like… nothing satisfying is happening there!

(Additionally, this plot point hits really close to home for me! I've been on the cheated-on end of a situation, and watching all this knowing it comes from this unresolved issue that hits close to home makes watching Jordan's B-plot hard! However, that's a Josh-Issue not a Writing-Issue, but I felt it needed to be said so you can take that together with my criticisms)

Again, this all feels like busywork. I don't think any character development is happening, and I don't think the character work being done is good in these scenes. It's just… nothing. I know "Filler" gets thrown around a lot, but this feels like that! This feels like padding. It feels like taking up time to hit a word count.

Next season a lot of these characters are leaving the show. On the one hand, it sucks cause I think they're good on-screen! I don't necessarily dislike these characters! On the other, I think having a smaller cast with less of this writing baggage will likely be for the best, or at the very least we get a different type of bad writing.

[sunny6677]

Flames.

Summary: Skid is saved from a situation he never thought he'd be in. But now he has to heal from everything he went through. And he doesn't know how.

Chapter 11: Keender.

TWS: REPETITION, TRAUMA, NIGHTMARES, SKID HAS A NIGHTMARE, PEOPLE BEING ASSHOLES, PEOPLE SIMPING OVER A LITERAL ABUSER, UNFORTUNATELY REALISTIC DEPICTIONS OF HOW PEOPLE TREAT BAD PEOPLE WHO HAPPEN TO BE SOMEWHAT GOOD LOOKING, PHYSICAL ABUSE, CHILD ABUSE.

(SERIOUSLY. SKID GOES THROUGH A LOT IN THIS SHIT. BE WARNED. YES, THIS IS A STORY ABOUT HIM SLOWLY HEALING FROM HIS TRAUMA, OR AT LEAST TRYING TO. BUT THAT DOESNT MEAN ITS NOT SOMEWHAT DARK. BE WARNED. DONT WORRY THOUGH, IT DOESNT ROMANTICIZE ANY OF THE DARK THINGS IN IT THOUGH. IT IS POTRAYED AS A BAD THING. THIS IS JUST ABOUT SKID HEALING FROM A BAD EXPERIENCE.)

(I ALSO PARTIALLY WROTE THIS STORY TO KINDA COPE WITH MY TRAUMA, SINCE WRITING ABOUT PEOPLE SLOWLY HEALING FROM THEIR TRAUMA KINDA MAKES ME FEEL BETTER ABOUT MY OWN EXPERIENCES.)

————

Skid wouldn't be going to the candy store for a little while.

Well, that was at least what his mother had told him. She had apologized to him, saying she shouldn't have brought him there and that she should have known better. And despite Skid's pleads for her to know she did nothing wrong, she refused to believe otherwise.

As of now, Skid had already been suited back into his pajama's. They felt comforting against his skin, like a warm hug being pressed against himself. In all fairness, he really did need a hug right now. The sky was now a color of midnight black, stars speckled across the plane of the source of the darkness from above. The moon was shining brightly and peacefully from on high. Skid could hear the faint chirping of the crickets from outside.

As of now, he was in his bed. His mother had decided that maybe it was best he got some rest for the night. He had been tucked comfortably beneath the fuzzy covers of his blanket. His knees felt weak and numb underneath the blanket. And for literal minutes now, he had basically just been laying there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling helplessly. What was a kid like him to do?

Pump was already gone at this point. His mother had sent him off, saying that maybe Skid would need to rest for a little while. Yet, even as Pump left, Skid could see a concerned shimmer in his eyes. Pangs of guilt shrouded Skid internally, like a knife being forcefully shoved into his chest. It pierced deeply, as if a physical wound had really opened up inside of him. Skid was really starting to wonder just what was wrong with him.

He turned over. He could hear the muffled sounds of the TV from outside of his door, despite it being closed. His mother was still in the living room, most likely sitting on the couch and attempting to watch something in order to forget most of what had happened today. Skid gulped. Internally, he scolded himself for.. for what had happened today. He didn't know why he broke down in the candy store today, but he felt as if it was all his fault.

Skid weakly looked upwards. A thought entered his mind. He considered perhaps attempting to get out of bed and apologizing to his mother, but.. she'd be angry, wouldn't she? If he had gotten out of bed. No.. she wouldn't. She wasn't like that. Skid knew that so! So why did his mind seem so intent on portraying her like she was going to hurt him even though she never did?! Was it a fear? Some kind of anxiety?

Or maybe he was just ungrateful..

Skid grumbled weakly. He raised up one of his hands, and lightly bonked himself on the head. What was he thinking? Treating his own mother like she was some sort of monster... just what was wrong with him?

As he laid there in silence, he suddenly heard the audio from the TV switch to something else. Despite it being outside, he was able to tell that it was clearly on something else entirely now. It wasn't anything important certainly. He considered just trying to sleep for a few moments more, and possibly apologizing tomorrow so his mother wouldn't be worried for his own sleep. A part of him kept thinking that for whatever reason, she would be angry though.

Then, he blinked. He could hear what the voice on whatever channel his mother was watching was saying. Judging by the firm but professional tone in the male voice that was on the channel, he assumed that most likely, it was the news channel. He arched a brow—wondering why his mother would be watching the news late at night.

He then heard, and began to process the muffled words of the voice that was speaking. "Last night, there was a 35 year old man by the name of Keender Roosevelt arrested for kidnapping and possibly child abuse. He was faced with charges, but some individuals online have taken a strange liking to him."

Skid clenched his sheets, his eyes widening.

The voice continued to speak. "Most of the followers online are young women, who claim that Keender shouldn't be in jail because reportedly, he's 'too handsome to go to jail'. Some individuals online try to claim that what he did was justified for various reasons, and some even empathize with him. Some have even written fan letters to him."

Skid's pupils shook, water beginning to form in his eyes. He didn't understand exactly what he was hearing.

"Other information about Keender Roosevelt reportedly states that he was a failed screenwriter. Supposedly, the monster had a wife and a son of his own at the age of 28, but the two apparently mysteriously went missing. The last reported sighting of Keender's son had apparently been—"

...the voice stopped. Judging by the sudden clicking sound, and the muting of the audio, the TV had most likely been turned off. His mother had turned the TV off. In the gaps of his hearing, all Skid could hear now was the sound of the air conditioning and the chirping of the crickets.

Skid clenched his sheets yet again, tears slowly seeping out from the corner of his eye. People.. liked Keender? But—but why? He didn't even understand any of what he had just heard. In the silence, Skid continued to lay on his bed, his eyes wide open in the dark.

Skid then heard the sounds of distant light footsteps.

He then clenched his eyes shut, burying his face into his pillow. He hoped to god that soon he'd drift off to sleep and forget all about what he had just heard. The footsteps drew nearer, Skid's skin grew clammier and more tingly. But even as it did, Skid felt his muscles become numb, and the world around him slowly began to fade into the cage of slumber that resided within his innocent mind.

————

In a hazy vision, Skid was in a car. Upon the hot metal seating of a car, in fact. He was in the back seat of a car. The seat beneath him felt hot, warm. Painful, even. He could feel it underneath his tiny legs. It ached, and he wanted so badly to squirm in his own slight agony. Yet for whatever reason, he didn't. He held it back. He held back the urge to quietly whimper.

He could feel heat against his pale skin. The warm summer air of.. wherever he was. Most likely, the AC in the car wasn't on, and due to that, it felt warmer than any fire that could be started. Skid could see the light blue sky outside, and various cars that were parked near. He didn't know where he was, but it almost felt familiar.

In the car he was in, Skid could see various items. Stacks of unmoved clothing, bags of opened snacks, an empty can. He could smell something foul, but he wasn't really sure what it might have been. The sun blazed it's glow upon him, and he held back another whimper. His eyes clenched tightly shut. His skin felt clammy and hot, and he could feel a wet feeling in the corners of his eyes. He felt weak.. weaker than before. He didn't even know what was happening.

"Jesus fuckin'.. I swear to.." He heard Keender's masculine and rough voice speak from in the front of the seat. Skid raised his head up, not out of curiosity, but to see what exactly it was that Keender had been cursing to himself about. As he raised his head, he could see Keender in the driver's seat with a cigarette held between his slender fingers. There was a light red cut on one of his fingers. Skid already knew what it was from. He had recalled a few days ago that Keender had somehow given himself a paper cut whenever he was trying to take a piece of paper from Skid. Skid internally blamed himself, feeling at fault for what happened.

Even so, Skid couldn't tell what Keender was mad about. A wasp buzzed from outside, and lightly ran into the car window that was beside Skid. Hesitantly, Skid spoke up. His voice still sounded meek, as it usually did whenever he spoke to Keender. "I—I'm sorry.." He didn't know what he did. But he assumed that Keender was most likely cursing because of him.

Keender turned his gaze toward him, and a chill went down Skid's spine. A bead of sweat slightly trickled down Skid's cheek. He held back the urge to whimper in the sheer fear of Keender staring at him. Keender then grumbled, saying, "Sorry for what, kid? And didn't I tell ya not to speak unless I spoke to you? What the fuck are you speaking for?"

Skid merely quietly whined in response, looking off to the side. Keender looked away from Skid, sighing. "Jesus fuckin' Christ.. whatever, kid. Just don't talk, okay? We'll be back at my house once I'm done smokin'." Keender stated. Keenders lips then lightly touched his cigarette, and outwards came a puff of smoke. Skid couldn't exactly see his face when it was turned away from him. He was weirdly glad he couldn't see his face though.

Skid then looked away. Beside him, there was a chipped cup of water. It was something Keender had gotten for him while they had been out on this little trip of theirs. Skid didn't really know why Keender decided to take him. He was going to consider yelling for help whenever Keender wasn't looking, but considering Keender was with him at all times, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to do that.

A bit of thirst internally pulsed inside of Skid's throat. He was longing for something to drink in this heat, and his water was the only thing he had. He looked at the cup, his eyes feeling dry from how many times he had cried today. He then lifted up his hand weakly. It shook slightly, violently even. It was hard to really hold onto things with how weak he had been lately. Yet even so, he continued to reach out for it.

Finally, his palm touched the cold glass. He held back a whimper, and let his fingers clench onto it. Then, carefully, he began to slowly try and grab it so he could pull it toward himself. Successfully, he managed to grab it. Tightly, with his hands clenched around it, he pulled it close to his dry lips. He needed something to drink right now. And fast.

He then tipped the cup, and let the liquid enter his mouth. It felt cold.. a bit of a chill ran down Skid's spine when he drank it. But it tasted weirdly good even so. Water never really tasted good to him. So maybe the heat was just affecting him? He then slowly stopped drinking it, and slowly pulled it away from his lips.

Skid then began to try and put the cup back where it was. A puff of smoke went out from Keenders lips again. His hands kept shaking, yet he tried to keep them steady. Steady. Steady. What was steady? He was starting to forget the meaning of the word because of how long he had even been around Keender.

Then, it slipped.

It fell from his hands, and onto the fuzzy messy floor of the car. Liquid poured out from the cup, and it fell with a hard thud. It was almost a miracle that it didn't break. Skid gasped softly, his voice barely audible. He immediately looked upwards at Keender, his gaze helpless. Already, Keender had been looking back at him. "What.. what the fuck?" Keender cursed. Pants began to violently escape Skid's mouth. Keender leaned his head over to see whatever had just fallen. In the darkness of the floor of the car, Keender could barely see.

Keender then looked back up. And judging by the sharp glare in his eyes, it was clear he wasn't happy. His brows were furrowed, his mouth was drawn back into a snarl. Skid opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He suddenly felt a hand wrap around his neck, and with a push, a sharp pain formed on his face! His body contorted further back into the seat of his car, and on instinct, he began to curl up into a ball.

Sharp, hurtful slaps began to be inflicted on different parts of Skid's body. Skid covered his head with his hair, and his eyes remained tightly shut. He could tell it was Keender who was slapping him, even though his eyes weren't even open. Keender began to yell violently, his voice tinted with an unpredictable rage that had been unleashed from him like a volcano. "You little brat! I just fucking got that water for you! How could you?!"

Skid whimpered. Sobbed. Cried. But there was nothing to be done in this situation, no one was around to help him.

He began to cry, whining. "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

A final blow was landed near his head, and in that last moment, he sobbed again, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm.."

————

Skid began to writhe violently on his bed. His legs began to kick, his arms gravitated towards his eyes in an effort to hide his tears. The tendrils of his hair were now messy thanks to his constant tossing and turning. His eyes were completely wet with tears that he had presumably been crying while he was asleep. A pitiful but tiny scream began to escape his mouth. He whined, over and over through tears and gasps, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

The door immediately opened. In this moment, he wasn't able to tell who it was. But whoever it had been approached fastly toward the bed, and two arms were softly wrapped around his body. A hand went to his head, stroking it gently. "Agh!" Skid yelped. It wasn't hurting him. But he couldn't help but yelp anyway.

"Shhh.. shhh.. its okay, it's okay.." Skid heard his mother's voice speak. It was only then he processed that it was his mom speaking to him. He began to cry more in the realization. "Mama.. mom.. mom!" He whimpered. His eyes were still shut, tears pouring out from them like a waterfall.

His mother continued to presumably hug him, speaking in a soft tone, "It was just a nightmare.. its okay.. I'm here.. you're not there anymore.." She seemed to have known what happened despite not even being there herself. Was Skid really that obvious?

Skid sniffled again, his sobs becoming quieter. He opened his eyes. He could see his mother's concerned face in the dark of the room. His hands instinctively went to her, and he could feel her shoulders beneath his hands. "Mom.." He quietly whimpered. "Its okay.. you don't have to tell me what happened. You're here now. You're safe." She assured him.

Skid let out one last sniffle, and began to quietly cry, for it was all he could do. But even with his cries, he could have sworn he heard sniffles coming from his mother too.

//////////////////////

E

[elibean]

Thanks for answering my ask. Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

of course, thank you for asking! :D oooooh sure!! i'm not sure I have 10, actually ^^; let's see...

yukine!!!! my darling sweet baby boy. ha i bet y'all thought it was tsuyu, huh? most people do. i fell in love with yukine after reading ahead in the manga when the anime was airing (and i do believe this bit was untranslated at the time?) and learning that he takes the hit from yato. this baby bratty child doing something so brave and selfless when just chapters before he was hurting yato....good good stuff. and he's only gotten better from there. and he gets to keep his brattiness! he's a tsundere lil baby but he loves fiercely and would do anything for yato and hiyori and... and after learning his backstory and everything else and GOD I LOVE HIM

tsuyu. i don't have nearly as compelling a reason for loving her as much as i do as i did for yukine. she's....she's a cute frog girl.....idk what you want from me. she is a good character in her own right, she's strong and human (like when she broke down bc she felt bad for telling them they shouldn't save bakugou) but as her nature as a very very side character, she doesn't have a whole lot of development or much to work with. i like her and she's cute. the end!

dazai. he's alllmost tied with tsuyu. actually i thought about reordering those two. i'm not really sure. i just have way more tsuyu merch than dazai merch (though that doesn't mean a whole lot bc i hardly have any yukine merch at all BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FUCKING EXIST anyway). i love how morally grey he is...well, almost morally black lol. like dude has murdered and tortured people but is still on the side of the "good guys". his backstory with oda is great, the idea that he's on the side of the good guys not because he WANTS to but because it's what his friend wanted; and also that he doesn't even really care either way, that it's not like he had some deep change of heart or anything but just. was that devoted to his friend is just. mwah, good stuff. i don't like how he's written sometimes as like, he knows EVERYTHING and is ALWAYS 5 steps ahead of everyone else; gets kind of annoying, sometimes, but i still love him.

- the rest// yeah ok now is when we're starting to falter. from here on down i don't really have a solid order. i adore amajiki (and i love how hori made a joke about him being...well, a stand-in for hori in some ways lol), i love kirishima, i love deku (i ADORE deku as a protag i think he's great). i love rin from yuru camp. a recent fave is lu guang; love how he's willing to risk EVERYTHING for cxs and is a total hypocrite, but for him to properly make this list is gonna depend heavily on how the show writes his background, his motivations, and the resulting fallout and how that's handled. oh i love tanuma from natsume yuujinchou too! he's wonderful. oh big fan of atsushi too!! and poe....ok i'll shut up now hehe, these are all "characters i like a lot" but like, not characters i actively think about often (with the exception of lg bc of current brainrot...again, we'll have to see if that holds up and he can get properly added to this list)

[linagram]

>:D Now you have to tell me what songs you'd assign to Eiji and Miki!

OKAY OKAY so i actually did have some t2 covers for them in mind, but i don't think they're gonna get a new profile this time because uhhh, i feel like "the end of the first trial" and the pre-t2 vds show their personality changes well and also if i tried to describe their t2 personalities more, it would be like "but you will see that in one of the future vds!" or "but i can't say much about it because spoilers!", like sure, i have to keep a lot of info about my prisoners secret too, but when it's the guards who are like, literally the protagonists, it's very hard to hide everything. and i didn't want to make a whole new profile just so for their covers (and possible voicelines) soooo yeah i'll talk about them here! also i was too lazy to draw their t2 versions.

Milgram covers.

Eiji: Yeah, he gets Bring It On this time. I had to do it to him. I also thought of giving him Harrow, but let's be honest here, I like to joke about Eiji and Kotoko's similarities, since both of them are so passionate about justice and both of them punish the guilty prisoners, but.. That's where their similarities end. Also, I don't know much about Kotoko, I'm not like, her biggest fan here (though I don't dislike/hate her), so I can't say much about her, but I feel like Eiji is more.. uh.. Basically, sure, he wants to punish all criminals and he wants to see them in pain, but it's not because he wants to make this world better or anything. He's just really obsessed with revenge and he wants to feel in control for once. Honestly, it's actually kinda scary to think about, because like.. What if Eiji went "You know what, maybe I shouldn't focus only on criminals AND I SHOULD JUST HURT EVERYONE". I feel like it really could happen if after T1 there were more guilty prisoners and not the innocent ones. Also I just think his Bring It On cover would sound really cool and that last scene with Fuuta looking anxious and staring at his phone and realizing what he had done?? LITERALLY T2 EIJI SEEING EVERYONE'S VERDICTS AND DOUBTING HIMSELF.

Miki: She gets Triage! I feel like her cover would sound really soft and pretty :) The lyrics sound a lot like her T2 version: yes, she's still blaming herself for Asahi running away from home and not protecting him enough and she also wants to help the guilty prisoners, but also now she knows how much influence she has over everyone here. She can save them. She can save both innocent and guilty prisoners. So please, give her another chance. Yes, she thinks she's worse than all the prisoners here and she thinks she's the worst older sister ever, but also, she's one of the guards. Most prisoners like her and Eiji is willing to listen to her. She's indispensable.

DECO*27 covers.

Okay, this one was hard because to be honest, I was just kinda planning to make them follow in Es's footsteps and cover Hibana together dkdksdlsl. But I tried my best to assign them separate covers.

Eiji: Hmm, I don't think it sounds like something he would sing because I imagine Eiji usually covering more "loud" songs, but I decided to go with At! Now, again, as with pretty much all DECO*27 songs, this one is about a romantic relationship, but hear me out. Like, look at the lyrics. "The day after you die, I wonder what I would eat", "If I voiced it out, you would have gotten mad at me, so I'm keeping that in my head", "Why is it when I'm certain of it, I end up wanting to cry alone".. Or how about "The day after I die, I wonder who you'll rely on"? Or "And I'm surprised, you've been having the same thoughts as me"?? OR "UNTIL THE FAR, FAR FUTURE, LET'S KEEP HURTING EACH OTHER"?? OR "BECAUSE UNTIL WE GET TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER, I'LL NEVER LEAVE YOU"?? OR "HITTING AND SHARING THIS EXPERIENCE TOGETHER BECAUSE WE'RE WRONG, WE'RE SHINING MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE NOW, RIGHT??? Yeah, I think you know who I'm talking about. I was so shocked when I read the lyrics because?? THIS IS LITERALLY KEI AND EIJI'S RELATIONSHIP?? Like, even lyrics like "So as we feel troubled, let's tell each other "I love you"" sound a lot like them because GOD THEIR DYNAMIC IS INSANE. Eiji constantly reminding Miki how much he hates Kei for everything he did to Eiji and having understandable reasons for wanting to kill him, but instantly going "protective older brother (who is actually younger)" mode when he sees Kei suffering?? Like seriously, if he could kill Kei, he would. But he didn't. Kei is injured, but still alive. Why did Eiji hold back? Is it because he's still scared of him? Is it because he's so used to Kei's abuse that it feels weird to do the same thing to his older brother? Is it because in a very twisted and also sad way, it's too hard for him to let Kei go and he actually loves him?

Miki: I decided to go with Find the Light! (Both songs are also from the same album, so yay, they match!) The lyrics sound so much like her T2 version and they actually sound a bit scary in this context: "The light slowly vanishes here in this dark world" (her talking about Milgram in general and how there's three guilty prisoners now and the prisoners' relationships are starting to become more toxic and even her relationship with Eiji is a bit different now), "Loving yesterday but hating tomorrow" (She actually gets to hang out with some prisoners sometimes and she ends up having fun, but then she remembers about Trial 2 and Trial 3.. and yeah, those thoughts scare her), "Only a monochrome black and white is reflected in my eyes" (The whole "Innocent or Guilty" thing), "Pushing back the needle of hopes with a finger" (She really is the guilty prisoners' only hope right now and the innocent prisoners also have to ask her for help too).. Some of them are kinda wholesome though, like "So that even if this voice breaks, cry out with a voice that reaches out to recolor the darkness" or "The smiles that I want to protect are right here".. Miki is such an interesting character to me, because at the same time she's a very naive girl who genuinely wants to help others, but also, just like Eiji, she really wants to be in control. Not for the sake of revenge though, but for the sake of stability. She just wants everything to be peaceful for once. And if anyone tries to disturb the peace, well, here's another reminder that she's still one of the guards.

Non-DECO*27 covers:

Again, I wanted to give them one song as a duet and that song is Punishment Game by Kururingo! Like it describes their T2 dynamic so well, or at least that's how Eiji sees their relationship now. Miki is mostly chill about it, but Eiji is slowly starting to see her as a rival. Some moments are so fun to imagine with them too, like "You're wearing that docile expression just to hide your own nervousness, am I right?", "You look like you're enjoying yourself", "You’re trying to keep up that quiet personality, but it’s falling to pieces, I can see it on your face", "No way, could it be that I was the one struggling uselessly this whole time?" and especially "Punishment game, but I'm not laughing, the person on the other end of the strings that move this world, who is it?"/"Hmm, I wonder who it is..".

But if I had to give them separate covers..

Eiji: Hitori Yurari by Kanaria and Maretu! Again, IT'S BECAUSE OF HIS DYNAMIC WITH KEI. IT'S A BIG PART OF HIS CHARACTER PLEASE UNDERSTAND ME. (Or maybe I'm just in that mood because Kei's profile is next and I'm. I'm looking away from his VD. His album trailer voiceline is also such a huge spoiler actually.) But honestly, I'd just love to hear his cover and I think it would sound so cool! The lyrics describe his and Kei's dynamic well too, like Eiji constantly repeating "There's still just no love at all" and also some hints about Kei's past are also there ("You're reeling alone, reeling alone in your dreams, you cried under the shade of a tree in an empty corner") and also lyrics like "Complaining about this and that, you looked down on me, "I love you!", "I hate you!", such an absurd character" and "The way things have gone, I'd prefer it if you'd fall down into hell" AND THE SONG ENDING WITH "I CRIED UNDER THE SHADE OF A TREE IN AN EMPTY CORNER" AND "I WANT TO LIVE WAY LONGER THAN YOU"?? YEAH.

Miki: This one is probably a bit sudden, but.. I decided to go with And Then You Became The Moon by Kikuo. I JUST HAD TO GO WITH A KIKUO SONG FOR HER THIS TIME IDK WHY LIKE I FELT LIKE I HAVE TO DO IT. Now, why this song in particular? Well, this is a cute song about two children playing in the snow and then both of them dying in a blizzard and becoming the Moon and the Star. So, uh.. Miki and Asahi <3 LIKE. THIS SONG SOUNDS SO CUTE AND SO SOFT BUT MIKI SINGING IT MAKES ME SO SAD. She literally thought her little brother died and she blamed herself for it 😭 Honestly, I feel like this song would sound cute as their duet too. I think Andou siblings' voices would sound very soft together. And also the lyrics like "At the very bottom they are together forever" are making me go :') because.. yeah.. It literally took both of them becoming a guard and a prisoner to finally reunite.. So yes, both guards get songs about their siblings this time!

[septembersghost]

Since I haven't seen you discuss this topic:

What do you think is Tom's feelings regarding hiddleswift/Taylor these days?Do you think he holds some resentment towards her? Because I feel like he was really into her and thought that relationship was heading somewhere. He also chose to date her in the peak of kimye drama(something we (rightfully) praise joe for) and it cost him a role.His reputation and the respect he garnered as an actor was Lower than ever after that. He introduced her to his family and was really hurt when asked about her at golden globes. But Taylor not only used him to get out of a toxic relationship but also had eyes on someone else the whole time. Then she released a song(that slaps btw I LOVE GETAWAY CAR) that blatantly calls him a rebound. We know her enough to know her reasons to do it, what she was going through, how joe was her light et ...but if someone used me like that I would take a long time to forgive them if ever. So do you think taylor is the 'bad ex'(zhe is not she is flawed) in his love life?

[Inspired by recent comments from Tom's team regarding his relationship with zawe

A source said: 'Tom really has fallen for Zawe in a big way. But he is so paranoid about his private life since his relationship with Taylor that he has gone to great lengths to keep this under wraps.'

Tom told the New York Times after his romance with Taylor: 'Yes, I'm protective about my internal world now in probably a different way. That's because I didn't realize it needed protecting before.']

i don't talk about this too much for ~reasons~, but it's a late night conversation so i saved it for liminal hours

there are certain fans of taylor's who are shockingly nasty about this and treat tom like trash and mock him for falling hard and fast (lol hypocritical. as if she doesn't?), and act like he somehow was in the wrong here, and i think they are VERY WEIRD.

there are certain fans of tom's who are misogynistic slut shamers who will offer her no grace for the extraordinarily Bad place she was in when all of this happened, and i think they are frightfully mean.

i was a fan of both of them before they hooked up, and remain so, and i have a lot of sympathy for them both in this situation, but the way she handled it was a mistake, and hurt me for him. i say that with nothing but care for her, which i'm sure you know is clear. people we like can still do the wrong thing. getaway car is a banger showstopper incredible never the same, my fave rep track, but it took me...a while...to be able to listen to it without a twinge of guilt...? "if someone used me like that I would take a long time to forgive them if ever." same, and i don't think he has any obligation TO forgive her, though i'd imagine he has.

so. here's where we have to have space for people to be human and thus flawed. she acted rashly and i believe somewhat carelessly in this situation. "i wounded the good and i trusted the wicked" has actually always read as a quiet tom reference to me, but then she did long story short and...anyway. he has a particularly stellar reputation as a thoughtful/considerate/gentlemanly guy. the profile he did with gq where he talked about her is an interview that i find remarkably compassionate and honest. the fact that swifties will quickly weaponize for her when she's slighted at all, yet mock tom for being deeply hurt by what happened, does not sit right with me. she fucked up. she shouldn't have gotten entangled with him, to escape calvin nor when she already had the deep feelings we know she had for joe. you can say that and still recognize that she was VERY hurt and struggling enormously with various things in her life at that point. i don't think any partner could've withstood the scrutiny piled on tom at that moment, nor the heinous fallout of the kimye drama. but he clearly wanted to support her, and she was...not there and not okay.

the fact that it dinged his reputation (sigh) or cost him a role is horrible, but not her fault, it's the industry being ruthless and a nightmare at times. but he's rebuilt himself from that quite well, and never lost respect where it mattered, no matter what tabloids might print.

i don't believe he resents her, partially because he doesn't seem to be wired in that way. he's never said anything but lovely comments about her as a person, as the woman HE knew. i DO think he profoundly resents what that relationship did insofar as the press coverage and surrounding hoopla and meanness, and that it jaded him quite severely (understandably) and caused him to clamp up and share far less with the public, which...is well within his rights, people were weird as fuck towards this man due to the marvel stuff LONG before he dated taylor, so it might've gotten bad for him eventually regardless, but the mockery and judgment and cruelty that happened there...he didn't deserve that at all, he still doesn't. what happened with tom changed taylor too, it's a big part of the reason she and joe keep things so tightly under wraps and have for over six years. i do not blame tom for being a bit paranoid (i mean, GROSS things happened when he was on broadway totally disconnected to the taylor aftermath that probably would've made him more careful/paranoid anyway, some people have no boundaries), and i definitely don't blame him for trying to keep the woman he loves who is his partner and the mother of his child as far out of that glare as possible. i hope they're so happy and have a wonderful life together. tbh i hope he barely thinks about any of this and is just thriving in his personal life and career in whatever ways he chooses to follow.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 98

Swap Meat/The Poison Sky

"Swap Meat"

Plot Description: While investigating a school, Sam is the target of a teenager's body-switching spell

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died.

"I would like to purchase and alcohol please" this kid who has freaky friday'd Sam is already precious to me. Sorry. This kid...is me when people roughly my age are subtly dropping hints that they're flirting. This kid was already a gigantic nerd (affectionate), but now he has Sam Winchester's frame to match the...giant-ness...i have an English degree...

Look...*I* know Sam and Dean are taking this seriously and aren't bad guys, it's obvious their old babysitter and her husband know that, too, but even if a poltergeist carved "murder (child)" onto my stomach, if i were a teenage girl, I'd be really uncomfortable about having to pull up my shirt to show that to the 26 and 30 year old strange men in my house.

I know this isn't a McDonald's but remember when McDonald's had those salads you shook??? What a weird time...

That kid just hit Sam with a blow dart and knock him out??

This kid has NO IDEA what he's gotten himself into. Also, could this have been a weird loophole to the whole Lucifer Wearing Sam to the Prom problem? If it's not really Sam in there/if it's Sam but not his body? Just something to consider

Sam. These are a lot of judgements...they might be accurate, but fuck you anyway

Why does this kid's dad loo like Great Value Tom Wambsgans?

Is this going to end up being one of those "you better appreciate the brother you have" episodes??

Kiddo...you gotta be way better at being Sam. I wish we could see Jared say these lines, though...

WHY DO THESE KIDS WANT TO KILL DEAN???? Omg...these kids are idiots playing around with LITERAL DEMONS

It was purely a breather episode, which is oddly nice to get with the fate of humanity on the line. Yes we got some small info drops, like apparently, you don't have to be Sam's consciousness to consent to being Lucifer's vessel. You just need to be in Sam's body. Seems worrisome.

"Been On My Mind...": Does it count if it's Sam's body but not his mind??

"The Poison Sky"

Plot Description: With planet Earth choking under the poison sky, the doctor mus stop the Sontarans' threat to the planet

I would have HATED to wait a week to see them get Wilf out of the car.

Evil Martha doing evil things.

[Insert "I've Had Enough of This Guy" meme here re: Rattigan]

I don't like that so much of Martha's time was taken up with jealousy over Rose, and now in order to...I dunno, make it up to her? She's hopping in on a WHOLE bunch of Donna's adventures. And I know part of that is David getting ready to leave, too, but still...5 out of 13 episodes Donna gets without someone who is, was, or will become important to the Doctor tagging along. 4 if you count the fact that Peter Capaldi's appearance in The Fires of Pompeii gets added into the canon of the Twelfth Doctor.

Literally every fucking time this fucker opens his mouth, I feel like he's an Musk stand-in but from like 2 years after twitter launched. His tantrum over how clever his is after everyone from his institute leaves, everyone he chose to continue the human race after the Sontarans killed everyone else. He had a MATING PLAN AND THOUGHT THAT WAS NORMAL.

Moms fucking HATE the Doctor lol

I love how much the Doctor believes in Donna <3

YES YES YES, GIRL. Whack the Sontaran with a fucking hammer

NOT THE "ARE YOU MY MUMMY?" REFERENCE

This...probably shouldn't work exactly the way it is. I'm no scientist, but I feel like setting fire to even just one toxin overtaking the whole Earth's atmosphere would have a much larger effect

The Doctor saves the whole day, avoids dying, and Donna hits him upon seeing him again. Love them

I'm gonna cry SO MUCH at the 60th anniversary special, won't I? I just love Wilf a lot.

[kitkatt0430]

Okay, so time has come for me to watch Mask of the Red Death part 2 - here's hoping this goes better than the last episode.

Stream turned white as soon as I went full screen. I feel like this is an omen. Anyway, let's restart and try again.

So far so good, I can now see the previously on. So full of plots I don't care about compared to so few the ones I do.

Okay, so I guess we're starting with the CCPD, but it's hard to care about the CCPD with David and Joe gone. I can never remember any of the officers though I recognize at least a few background recurring characters and Kramer just hasn't really grown on me all that much. That said, I'm glad someone remembered that Kramer has powers because hey, she uses copying Roy's powers to pretty good effect, even though doesn't work for long.

Allegra arguing with Hartley, Jaco, and Keith (Goldface, I just got tired of using his nickname all the time) over leaving Blaine behind feels hollow because odds are Blaine isn't dead anyway. Like I said last time, no body? Probably not dead.

Everyone's tired and scared, Barry's been nerfed, but at least Iris has her head on straight. Keith speaks for me when he says "I always liked you" to her. :D

Iris is definitely the brains of the operation. That said, if all the power was basically out, how did they get the tech working to interface with Cecile's powers. That was a big problem last episode and no one ever fixed it. Maybe something hit the cutting room floor that shouldn't have?

Cecile feels that someone is out there in lots of pain and oh apparently Blaine's still alive. Surprise. Anyway, he's clearly been tortured and I do get why Barry wants to rescue him. If there is one thing Barry has that is stronger than his speed, it's his guilt complex.

Khione - Well fine if you won't save Blaine, I will.

Hartley - I cannot let my new friend-shaped person go into danger without me.

*snicker* I mean, that's basically how fast Hartley caves and he goes from angry/annoyed voice to his softer voice. Finally, Hartley and Khione friendship showing up again.

I mean... maybe there's some guilt about Caitlin mixed in there, but Hartley never liked Caitlin in this timeline. Respected her, clearly yes since he went directly to where he thought she'd be for help a few episodes earlier, but doubtful they ever got along well. And now she's gone, so they'll never have that chance. But I do think he's just genuinely fond of Khione for herself.

Jaco folds next. And then Keith, but he's not happy about it.

Kramer - You won't be able to hack our satellite. 'Cause ARGUS upgraded it.

First... since when does the CCPD have it's own satellite????

Second, ARGUS' firewall crumples like tissue paper. There is a joke there about Cisco's inability to secure shit.

third... where the heck did all the Red Death suits come from? Did they spawn like rabbits between episodes???

Barry is right to tell Khione 'no' when they're going into danger and she has zero combat skills.

Since when has Allegra had x-ray vision. Was this something she gained when I wasn't watching last season? Or at least had foreshadowed??? (Probably not on both counts.)

Oooh, Hartley's enhanced hearing comes up again.

Jaco - Feels like a trap to me. Feel like a trap to anyone else?

He is immediately correct. Red Death arrives to monologue!

Okay, so the suits are psychic manifestations apparently? How does Barry even know that? But then how does Ryan know about the vision of Savitar stabbing Barry that almost killed him two seasons ago???

Oh, hey, Grodd is here. And apparently he's connected to evil Ryan now? And the Gorilla City gorillas are gone now, so lets feed that guilt complex of Barry's huh?

And then the band with the Rogues breaks up. Can't blame 'em, but I know they'll be back later.

Iris and Khione talking is lovely. Iris gives Khione some good advice. I just wish we'd gotten these interactions with Caitlin instead.

Was Khione kissing Blaine to activate her healing powers on him (or whatever that was) necessary? I swear if we get Khione/Mark Blaine as an end game ship I will be so fucking pissed off.

Time for a Joe West pep talk for Barry. Or for Barry to pep talk Joe? I do love their father-son relationship. But I knew that Joe wouldn't be a series regular anymore this season, so I suspect this is him bowing out. Or the start of it anyway.

I do love how much use Nash's teleporter is getting in these two episodes. I miss the Wells characters, but it does feel a little like Nash is still there helping them. Just a bit.

Grodd blaming Barry for being alone isn't really fair - Barry isn't at fault for that and it's not like Grodd ever let Barry know what he'd discovered about the Gorilla City gorillas. And I think on some level he knows that and that, more than Barry's speech, is what sways Grodd. He can look into Red Death's mind. But he can look into Barry's too.

Red Death's episode long break down continues. And somehow Barry got his speed back from Grodd? Whatever.

More speedster running/chase scene/fighting. It is pretty fun the way it's done, though. And the Rogues showed back up to help Barry, as I predicted. :D

So does real Ryan! Woo, so good to finally see her. And she nullifies evil Ryan's speed for a Batwoman vs Red Death fight.

Jaco - We'll help out anytime.

Hartley - Ehhh...

Jaco - Anytime.

Hartley - Okay, why not.

I... don't know that I liked the cheesy fourth wall breaking joke the Rogues ended on though.

Chester fanboying over real Ryan is hilarious. And I like how Ryan and Iris low key fangirling over each other was cute too.

So where was real Ryan all this time? I... don't think anyone ever said.

There is so much unexplained in this episode.

Joe leaving to raise Jenna is the right call, but I hate that he's apparently semi leaving Cecile to do it? He's done the single parent raising a daughter before. He deserves to raise Jenna with her mom too. Not just on the weekends. And how do they afford any of this anyway? Joe is retired, so what is their income even looking like?

So much unexplained.

Oh no. Oooooh no. Chester/Allegra is happening. Make it stop. They still have no chemistry. At least Barry is still his usual oblivious self about it.

I... do not like how they find out Iris is pregnant. I mean, it is a bit funny that Khione didn't realize they didn't know yet when she blurted it out, but still. Iris deserves better than the writers are giving her once again.

Anyway, that's it for the episode. It was better paced then the last one and I enjoyed it more, but there were a lot of plot holes in there. So many plot holes. I can't say I really like how the Red Death arc ended.

But Hartley, Jaco, and Keith were fun and it seems like they'll show up again later in the season? Here's hoping anyway.

I feel like a number of things in this episode would have gone better with foreshadowing. Grodd's involvement, Allegra's x-ray vision, the Red Death clones (psychic whatevers)... And other things just needed an actual damn explanation. Especially real Ryan showing up out of nowhere at the last minute. Where was she? In the timeline that Red Death came from? Took a wrong turn in Albuquerque? Where was she this whole time??? We know she was missing, so what the hell?

I think the biggest problem is they were trying to do too much at once in these two episodes and thanks to how poorly paced part one was, they squashed too much into part two.

Anyway, teaser for the next ep shows discussions about the pregnancy happening early - so there's probably concern that the baby she's pregnant with won't be Nora? And then Khione training her powers, which seem to be healing but cold? I'd be more interested if the person training her wasn't Blaine.

His first intention after Khione was born was to kill and replace her with Frost. So Blaine helping Khione figure out her powers is not what I'd call a great idea. And it looks like we may be heading into Khione/Blaine territory, which... him using Khione as a replacement goldfish for Frost, even hypothetically, creeps me the fuck out.

So I might not watch the next episode. Or i might just skim it/skip around looking for good parts. I dunno.

[tinkering-survivor]

Can you tell us a little bit about how you feel about your... err... 'coworkers'?

He reclines back in the armchair, settling in comfortably.

"Well, I've worked with a few Wilsons on the set over the years. Most of them were okay - kinda spacey, kinda eccentric, but ultimately still okay sorts, barring a few specific... exceptions. Lemme tell 'ya, though, never in a million years expected to be paired with one, but I think it's let me explore some interesting facets of my character I don't think were ever in mind when they first brought me on."

"Most Willows are pretty alright - surprisingly easy to work with, too. I know, most folks wouldn't figure that, right? Completely blows me away every time."

"I swear, every single Wes they've brought on must be some kind of method acting maniacs- nono, I mean that in a good way, I swear! Really dedicated to the part, all of 'em; never hear a peep out of 'em, even when the cameras aren't rolling. Oh, and I can totally relate to 'em on the whole hair and makeup thing - I don't think anyone else really gets it, y'know?"

"I've only gotten to work with a few Maxwells, but they're way more similar to Wilsons than you'd think- like, they've got a lot of the same hang-ups and all that. Yeah, some of that beef is genuine home-grown; honestly surprised they can get 'em on a set together sometimes. Guess stars feel like they gotta be the brightest one in the sky or something - makes me glad I usually stick to bit parts."

"I'm just gonna be honest here, 'kay? Charlies kinda scare me! Yeah, that's right, I'm secure enough in my masculinity to admit it if I'm intimidated by a woman -HEY, before you start laughing, I'd like to see you go toe-to-toe with a gal like that while one or both of you is strung up by the wire crew. 'Sides, they're all so different every time - never know what to expect when I'm watching one do her scenes."

"Haven't gotten to work with too many Woodies or Wigfrids and the like, 'specially as much as I'd like to have. You know how it is, everyone wants those bigger, juicier roles- can't blame anyone for that. Always love what they bring to the table though; you can really tell they're here out of love for their characters- not so say nobody else is, good Lord no, but you can just... really feel the passion they're bringing in whenever they're working, y'know?"

"Listen, I know it's supposed to be a whole deal, 'Augh, I hate that pug-nosed son of a bitch, he took my place in the story!', but the other Wagstaff is really pretty cool actually! I mean, yeah,he can come off like a self-centered prick when he's behind the lens, but he's actually really down to earth when we're not rolling! Just goes to show 'ya: shouldn't let someone's work influence how you feel about them as a real, actual person. Really love what he does with his character, too."

"Had the pleasure of working with a few one-offs over my time on the show. Didn't get to do scenes with all of them, and there's-there's quite a few I'd approach totally differently if I'd done them now instead of then, but hey, you never know, folks could always come back! Hell, I'm no stranger to hiatus myself; I think it was something like some... three or four odd years ago, couldn't get me out there to run through a scene to save your life; was a pretty rough year for me, you see."

[razorfst]

Andrei wasn't the one who was used to providing comfort. That wasn't who he was, not even close. He was the one that made people upset, they feared him if they didn't respect him. There was one thing he was certain of and that was that his mean trusted and respected him. Not a single part of them questioned him and he valued that, they were family not just in the name of who they worked for but in a feeling as well. That never extended outwards, his trust having to be earned for that to be the case. Sure he could lie and put on a mask to the outside world who nothing of the criminal behavior he took part in, but in the end that was all it was. This? This was an unknown situation but he was trying his best to handle it the proper way he knew how. Part of that was making sure she didn't get lost in the flashbacks, that was something he at least understood from his own experiences. Though he had no one to ground him, he could at least provide that for her. His words, honest, bot entirely sure if they were the right ones but it was the least something that was true. They were dead, that entire building had been wiped out by him and his men. He only watches her repeat him, seeing as the words do at least something else to calm her aside from his touch. Seeing her come back down, come to the present, he had thought it might be time for him to leave. She might have sense the movement because the next words to leave her mouth was a request that caught him slightly off guard.

Remaining in his seat, his position readjusting to the slight movement he had just done. The fear with which she meets his gaze is hard to ignore, it keeps him in his spot and in that moment it also has him make his decision. She doesn't need to explain because in a way he already understood why that was something that frightened her, strangers touching her after what she had been through. And even though he was one himself, he had still gotten her free. "I'll stay. You don't....need to explain." He says it in as comforting of a manner as he could, not sure if it was effective but he was doing his best. Maybe it was because of the fact he had saved her that made her feel safe and he wasn't about to ruin that or have her retreat more into herself, so he stayed. Her look was enough. She didn't know but Andrei could understand to an extent, her frightened look almost reminding him of how he had been when he was a child. A family he thought loved him had betrayed that feeling and showed their true colors. It was what sent him on the path that eventually got him sitting beside her bed, though it hadn't been something he saw coming at all. None of it really had been, but he was used to adapting when he needed to and this was going to be one of those situations. And as much as he would like to finish what he had started, he knew he had to wait until things with her got better. A sigh leaves him as he nods, his hand still holding her's. Patience, something he would have to work with it seemed. "It's fine, I shouldn't have asked you so soon."

His brow furrowed as she tried to say something else, something that the Romanian couldn't quite understand. But then he remembered, patience with her. Then there it was, the word owe. It made Andrei sit up more as his expression grew slightly serious before his head shook slowly. "You don't owe me anything. I don't want you thinking you do." Andrei wanted that to get through to her because it was how he felt. There was nothing she needed to do to make up for what he did. Maybe it was because he hadn't been there originally to help her but in the end it didn't matter, she didn't need to do that. "I will stay because....for some reason my presence helps you, I'm not going to take that from you." Though he would need his hand back if he was going to work a bit from her room. "But I will nee to step out from time to time, for your family and my own work. That's all I ask. And if there is anything you remember, you tell me. I'll handle it from there." There's a small pause, a look towards the door and then back to her. "And I hope you don't think I am a cop, but also don't tell them much of anything else. What they know, from what I told them, is enough." There's a small squeeze to her hand, a reassuring one. "Everything has been handled, alright?"

@kookheiress

⸻   the   pressure   of   the   squeeze   pierces   through   gruesome   flashbacks   ,   her   own   grip   tightening   like   a   vice   as   though   his   hand   were   a   lifeline   .   doe   like   gaze   peers   up   into   stoic   emerald   ,   lower   lip   quivering   mildly   as   she   nods   in   response   to   his   reassurances   .   in   truth   the   entirety   of   the   little   wolf   trembles   ,   each   blink   just   enough   time   to   picture   the   faces   of   her   captors   behind   fluttering   eyelids   and   elicit   a   new   whimper   of   agonized   vulnerability   .   ❝   not   there   anymore   ,   ❞   emma   parrots   quietly   ,   timbre   soft   and   distant   as   panic   gives   way   to   dissociation   .   ❝   they're   dead   .   they're   dead   ,   they're   gone   .   ❞   sculpted   brows   furrow   with   concentration   as   she   repeats   the   words   like   a   mantra   ,   watching   in   her   mind   as   the   bodies   fall   and   her   wrists   are   freed   from   shackles   dipped   daily   in   wolfsbane   .   lashes   lift   ,   gaze   flitting   down   to   where   the   marks   have   already   healed   themselves   over   with   smooth   ,   unmarred   dermis   .   good   .   at   least   something   is   healing   .   it   appears   as   though   the   scrapes   and   bruises   the   poisons   had   allowed   her   to   sustain   have   all   faded   ;   she   hopes   that   was   before   anyone   got   a   decent   look   at   her   .   but   the   last   day   or   so   has   passed   in   such   a   blur   that   the   blonde   cannot   for   certain   pinpoint   nearly   any   specific   event   succeeding   the   moment   she'd   been   freed   from   the   basement   .

❝   . . .   could   you   stay   with   me   ?   ❞   emma   breathes   ,   a   surge   of   panic   tightening   her   chest   as   she   fluctuates   between   visceral   fear   and   abject   numbness   .   ❝   i   hate   it   here   ;   they   keep   coming   in   to   run   tests   and   take   blood   and   every   time   they   touch   me   i   just   feel   -   ❞   breath   quickens   ,   eyes   shut   tight   as   another   flashback   sends   her   free   hand   shooting   out   to   lay   atop   strong   forelimb   .   palm   flattens   against   battle   -   worn   dermis   as   she   grounds   herself   again   ,   swallowing   forcefully   and   directing   a   timid   gaze   back   up   to   his   visage   .   ❝   it   would   just   . . .   it   would   be   a   lot   less   terrifying   if   you'd   stay   .   ❞   on   her   very   best   day   ,   words   do   not   come   easily   to   the   youngest   martin   ;   not   when   it   comes   to   communicating   what   demons   plague   the   inner   workings   of   her   psyche   .   in   her   freshly   traumatized   state   she   finds   it   nearly   impossible   to   vocalize   all   that   she   feels   ,   all   that   she   fears   .   she   can   only   hope   that   each   unspoken   word   is   clear   enough   behind   petrified   ,   empty   irises   which   until   now   -   until   him   -   had   been   entirely   devoid   of   hope   for   the   majority   of   her   captivity   .   

emma   knows   that   he   needs   information   which   more   than   anything   ,   she   wants   to   provide   .   but   each   wave   of   panic   sets   her   back   the   moment   she   begins   to   think   about   the   events   of   the   last   two   years   ,   frustrating   the   little   wolf   to   no   end   .   ❝   i   want   -   . . .   i   want   to   help   ,   ❞   she   whispers   ,   offering   another   timid   squeeze   to   large   ,   rough   hand   as   she   attempts   to   steady   her   breathing   .   ❝   i   think   that   if   -   if   you   just   -   . . .   ❞   shoulders   slump   as   she   comes   to   realize   just   how   treacherous   it   will   be   to   journey   along   the   road   to   recovery   .   to   come   face   to   face   with   each   nightmare   lived   through   .   each   man   ,   each   icy   rinse   ,   each   no   and   stop   and   please   that   had   done   absolutely   nothing   in   the   face   of   her   living   ,   waking   hell   .   in   her   current   state   ,   it   seems   as   though   peace   is   a   concept   hidden   deep   inside   a   vault   to   which   there   is   no   combination   .   but   this   man   is   the   reason   she   can   once   again   see   the   sun   .   he   is   the   reason   that   while   she'll   be   haunted   by   memories   for   the   foreseeable   future   ,   she   will   never   again   be   haunted   by   those   men   .   ❝   i   can't   -   if   you   stay   with   me   for   a   little   while   ,   i   think   i   can -   . . .   i   owe   you   my   life   . . .   i   want   to   try   .   ❞

[crapolicedolls]

paid for a yo sd yesterday 🤡🤡🤡 purely so my dollsbe pumpkin can have a similarly chubby fruend his size