#gal gun returns

[flojocabron]

Now it's time for Plot! Here's my Gal Gun collection on multiple platforms. So far, PSvita, switch, and Ps4. I'm fairly sure there's a few more I need to buy. But it would be double dipping. All in due time. I got the first Vita version with the ESRB typo. And I've picked up lately the ones on switch. Have you played or heard about this ecchi game? What do you think about it?

[raleydrew-my-art-and-content]

Watch "Gal*Gun Returns - Part 2 - 🐰 Aoi's TRUE Ending 🐰 [ A Nintendo Switch Raythrough with Commentary ]" on YouTube

[galthegothamite]

It’s weird to run a cafe in crime alley, because while I’d have good business anywhere, only in Gotham would my two best customers be Red Hood and Red Robin, and the both of them try to outdo the other.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Your Own Happy Ending

Mouthwashing gang X Reader

AN: Can be read as platonic, and can be implied to be any/multiple characters. Except Jimmy. Fuck you Jimmy

Sum: Enough was enough. Time to get off this stupid Rock

Warnings: 18+, violence, sexual assault, revenge fic, talks about rape, gore, happy ending don’t worry, trauma, mouth wash, graphic violence, written by a victim of sexual assault and giving all of us that need to get revenge on our abusers. I see you, guys gals and nonbinary pals. I see you

This had to stop. He was going to just hurt more and more people. There will be more victims. You can’t become a victim, you can’t have the ones you love be under his hands. No. No one deserved this.

No one except him.

Curly was at deaths door, Anya is going to reach a point of no return in her pregnancy, Daisuke is on the edge of a mental break down, and even Swansea is shattering apart. One bottle of mouthwash at a time.

You didn’t know what will happen next. You were crashed in god knows where, but maybe there is a chance of hope. Maybe there is a way to get home. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe.

The cockpit is full of foam, but who says you can’t just cut away at it enough to access a transmitter? What’s else is left to do? Not like waiting and praying is helping.

Would explain why Jimmy refused to let anyone have the keys to the pit.

He didn’t want his sins to escape.

You’ll make them escape out of his damn body.

There was no way Anya was going to tell you where the gun was. Guess that means you’ll need to improvise. Had a ax. A ax can do it, but getting it away from Swansea is going to be troubling. He was keeping it as much for self defense at this point as you would have to.

You needed a weapon.

Your hands couldn’t handle it. Jimmy was able to do so much harm already. Anya was most likely not his only victim. He’s certainly done this before. Meaning he knows how to fight, and get someone pinned under him. There to do whatever he wanted.

You had to get him before he got you.

What else could be a weapon?

A knife? A knife!

You ran into the kitchen, much to the confusion of Swansea and Daisuke, only to start tearing the drawers out. Utensils flying everywhere as you tried to find something. Anything sharp.

To your horror there was no knives.

“He took all the knives….”

You looked over, same for Swansea, as it had been Daisuke who said it.

Daisuke said it.

“They are all in Curly’s old room. Since he’s the new captain now he has the ability to lock down that door. No one gets in, and no one gets out. Whatever he wants to hide is there. Noticed him hoarding things there. Was so confused…..Now I’m not anymore.”

Swansea looked ready to start swinging his ax at the nearest body of organs. He couldn’t believe this was real. That this was some shining bullshit.

This couldn’t go on.

“Swan, Daisuke, you guys gotta grab Anya and hide out in the med-bay. I’ll find something. I’ll find something-“ You rambled on, before Anya had poked her head in. Seeing Swansea holding Daisuke, and trying to keep that ray of sunshine from finally snapping.

“What’s going on?” She would whisper. Ever afraid if she spoke to loud that Jimmy would find her. Find her and do something else. Didn’t matter where she was. He was always breathing down her neck. One way or another.

“Little junior adventurer over there wants to finish the job.” Swansea would grit his teeth, as you still kept hunting down for something. Willing to tear apart cushions. You had to find SOMETHING. Maybe you could break a chair leg, maybe you could use some wires. Maybe maybe maybe-

That’s when Anya held your shoulder. Her tired eyes pulled you away from the incoming insanity. Brought you back to reality, and had you listen. Listen for just a moment.

“This is where the jugular vein is-“ She begun, as she pointed to her neck. Then started to name off more vital arteries, before pulling a scalpel from her pocket. Into your hands they went, as she kept listing off every vital vein possible. Weak points every body had.

Even a man like him.

“Last I saw him he was exploring the lower decks. Please…..Just make it quick.” As much as she hated him, she just could only bring herself to be only so cold. She could never be as cruel as Jimmy. To wish death onto someone. Never would she.

That’s what made her forever better than him.

“Come on, kid. You ain’t gonna wanna see this. Get over here, Anya. Come on. Let’s go have a sleepover with Captain Curly.” He would motion her over, and she would snuggle under his arm. The two safe in his arms, as he would walk them to the med-bay.

Was wise for him to keep the ax. That thing was what kept Jimmy from doing his own finishing of the job. You can’t over power him. No you can’t. There was also the fact Anya made sure to keep the gun hidden. You wouldn’t deny the idea it was in the med-bay somewhere. Just more protection if anything.

They’ll be safe. If you didn’t make it, at least you’ll make sure Jimmy is too weak to try anything more to hurt them. Weak enough for someone else to finish the job. What mattered now was them staying away until the job was done, and for you to figure out what to do next.

You needed that damn key.

You would stuff your hands in your pockets, grip tight on the scalpel, and started walking. Walking, thinking, listening. Eyes glued to anything that could offer an opportunity to be jumped. You had to be vigilant.

As you walked you would notice the door that was once Curly’s. How Jimmy didn’t deserve the luxury of what a Captain gets. Made you wonder what else he was also hoarding in that room. Maybe he was hoarding resources that should have been shared with the rest of you. There could be the slimmest chance that he was hiding away a transmitter even. Not having the guts to destroy it, and maybe even as far as to what for the rest of them to kill each other before he called for help.

That coward.

You had to get his keys. You needed those keys for those you love. They deserved to live. YOU deserved to live. No way in hell will Jimmy keep getting away with this. Never again. Never more.

Your nerves were getting tighter and tighter now. Even the sound of your own heart beat was painfully loud in your head. The sweat on your skin, the itch of your skin being too tight, the pounding of drums, the feeling of air pushing at your ribcage. So much as your eyes blinking was to loud.

Everything was to loud.

That’s when a bang of metal hitting metal alerted you. You spun around, and was just met with nothing. Just an empty, dark, hallway. No source of the noise. Maybe there was none to begin with. Just your nerves.

“Deep breaths. Deep breaths. You know you have to do this. There is no other option. You can do this. For Anya, for Daisuke, and for Swansea.”

A wipe to your brow and you returned to hunting him down.

Felt like an eternity. Just endless hallways in red lights of emergency. Hallways blocked off by foam. Was a scarlet bouncy castle of horror. Never did the ship feel so endless yet so tight. Maybe the ship itself was breathing to.

Never did you think you would be happy to see his ugly face.

He was down in the lower decks, seeming to be trying to access a door that Swansea had managed to block off. Swansea was stronger than he looked, and was a mechanic no less. Jerry rigged a makeshift lock for the door. If you recall correctly that was where the cryo-sleep pods were. He had been working to try and fix them up, but you doubt they survived. Guess it’s better to pretend you are doing something useful than do nothing at all.

“Hey Jim, whatcha doing?” You tried your best to act casual, as you watched him trying to get the lock off. A mixture of locking mechanics and bent metal that kept things in place. Jimmy just didn’t have the body weight to unbend them. Who ever said being fat wasn’t useful?

“Trying to get into this damn room. Be useful and help me, won’t you?” He grumbled, as he kept trying to pull the metal.

This was your chance.

This almost felt to perfect. He was distracted, hyper focused on something, and was crouching. You would have the upper hand. You can pull this off. You just had to fight your nerves.

“Yeah yeah yeah. I’m coming.” You would say, as you would walk closer to him. Flashes crossed your vision with each step. Was like blurs of a shadow puppet show. Visions of his talle outline pinning Anya to the ground, another of him pinning Daisuke to a wall. Even Swansea wasn’t free from the concept of being pinned to a surface and abused.

No one was safe with Jimmy still around.

You would soon be standing behind him, as he focused on the lock. He was right there. You just had to do it. Do what Anya showed you. His neck was exposed. It was right there. You just had to do it.

You pulled your weapon out, and took in a deep breath.

Just as you brought your arm to swing, Jimmy turned around.

Happened in a flash. You made contact with his skin, but it was his cheek instead. He would tumble over, and was quick to kick your legs out from under you. Had you slam your back to the ground. Knocked the wind out of you.

“I fucking KNEW IT-! YOU GOD DAMN BITCH-!” Was like he wasn’t even human anymore. Just as much of an animal on the outside as he was on the inside. You had to run. You had to get out of there. You fucked up your perfect chance. Your messed up and he’s going to remind you that you did.

You attempted to get up, but Jimmy was just that much faster than you. Your ankle was grabbed, and he was yanking you closer. You couldn’t stop yourself from screaming, as he would try and pry the medical tool from you.

“GET OFF OF ME YOU RAPIST PIECE OF SHIT-!” You nearly sobbed, as he stared down at you. Your wrists pinned above your head, as he just gawked at you. Was like he never even heard the word before.

“Rapist? You think I’m a fucking rapist? You little fucking bitch. I’m no such damn thing. What happened between us was nothing of the sort. It was just what happens when someone gets in my way. Reaching your goals isn’t a crime. Is it?” He asked you, as you kept struggling under him. Trying to get away.

“Fuck. YOU-!” And you slammed your face into his. Gave you a blinding headache instantly, but the shock of contact was enough to make him let go. You were soon crawling, and now running, away.

“IM GOING TO KILL YOU! IM GOING TO KILL ALL OF YOU LIKE IVE BEEN TRYING TO DO WITH CRASHING THIS STUPID SHIP!” His voice echoed like the demon from hell he was.

You never thought such fear like this could be in your body.

Your vision was a blurry mess from the head bang, but you just used the walls to offer you guidance. To try and find a place to breathe, and wait. To try again. You won’t give up. You refused to give up.

“COME BACK HERE-! YOU CANT RUN FOREVER! THERES NOWHERE ELSE FOR YOU TO GO-!” He would threaten you. His voice just seeming to be coming from everywhere. Was like he was inside of your own head. Like he was all of your insecurities crawling through your skull, and turning your brain into a mushy puddle of doubt and fear.

You still kept going.

You would find yourself back into the dinning hall, and took your chance in hiding in the kitchen area. Ducking down and hiding yourself by the elevated counters. If he kept running he shouldn’t notice you.

You would hold your knees, recollect yourself, and breathed.

The echoes of his running foot steps were like alarm bells in your ears. To hear them get closer, more distant, then closer again. Clearly having lost where you went, but still keeping up chance. How did he have so much energy? He must have been indeed hoarding resources. No way should someone surviving off mouthwash have this much stamina.

Your confused thoughts were cut short by the quickening pace of the foot steps. From banging on metal to proper flooring. He had entered the kitchen. He was breathing hard, and just boiling in anger.

“Where’s that fucking bitch? Where did that fucker go?” He would pant, as you would hear something sharp run over the counter marble. Must have grabbed a knife from his bedroom. Maybe that meant he left the door unlocked as well.

That could be your chance to get a proper weapon.

You just had to wait. Wait and pray he didn’t look over the counter.

You couldn’t tell where he was looking, but you needed to risk it. You would grab for one of the spoons off the ground, and threw it as far as you could. Into the hallway to the next part of the ship. You managed to get enough distance. The sound of metal hitting on the grates was loud. You swore you could feel the head thwip of Jimmy turning towards it.

“Found you-!” He shouted cockily, as he ran into that direction.

“Dumbass.” You muttered, as you soon ran the opposite way. Trying to find his room before he realized he was had.

You even went as far as to take off your shoes, so your feet made much less noise. Harder to be tracked and followed. Never did you think listening to Daisuke ramble about horror movie logic would come in handy. Gave some weird morbid hope that maybe Anya will be a final girl and make it out of here alive.

You would hear the foot steps echoing around you, as you tried to stalk quieter towards the dorm hallways. Was so hard to make out where they were going and coming from. The distant shouts of annoyance weren’t helping either. Was just making you more aware of your own mortality.

Luckily you managed to find the door. He snuck inside, and closed the door. Maybe he would think he locked it behind himself and not even think of checking in there. Maybe he was dumb enough to be fooled.

When in the room you couldn’t help but be disgusted by the sight. He really was hoarding food! The knives were also laid all out on his desk. Organized like he was planning to use them. There was also a trans communicator. Just as you thought there was. You thought it was suspicious there wasn’t a means to transfer information in case of an emergency. Even Pony Express had to have THAT. Suppose believing it was just consumed by foam was easier. Maybe it was and he dug it out himself.

No matter. You had hope.

You quickly grab the device, and turned it on. By god it WORKED!

“Hello? Hello?! This is the Tulpar for The Pony Express! We’ve been crash landed for months! Pony express has laid us off and hasn’t sent any rescue by proxy! Can you hear me?!” You couldn’t help but shout, as the transmitter would crackle.

“We read you loud and clear. How many are on the ship?” You were sobbing. No way. Someone was actually hearing you!

“Five! We have five people here! One in critical condition! Captain Curly! He’s alive! Alive but having suffered the most from the crash. We are running lower on medical supplies, we have very little food, we’ve been drinking fucking mouth wash to survive!” You weeped, as the person on the other end was taking in the information.

You said five for a reason.

“Keep on the line with us as we track your signal. Are you in any immediate danger?” The person asked.

“YES YOU ARE-!” Jimmy would shout behind you, before stabbing you right in your shoulder. You screamed bloody murder, as the person on the line gasped. Despite the pain, you were keeping your grip on the communicator. You weren’t letting go. No you fucking WONT.

“STUBBORN BITCH-!” He shouted at you, as you used your body to protect that communicator with all your body and life. You didn’t care if he was going to kill you now. You were getting everyone home. You were and you fufilled your mission.

“Just get it over with already you coward! How many people did you rape?! Huh?! Was Anya the first?! Like hell! She’s your most recent! Was Daisuke next?! Was I next?!” You called out, as you had nothing to lose anymore. You were going down with your own ship, unlike him.

“If you have to know, Anya wasn’t my last at least. She really thought leaving me alone with Curly was smart. Dumb whore-“ He would yank out the knife, making you bleed and scream. The hot searing pain was just beyond words. You were seeing stars, and not the kind you wanted.

“Was figuring how many I could get away with. Didn’t think she would actually tell anyone. Didn’t think much about her at all. Guess you live and learn. You live and l-“

Bang.

Silence.

Silence, the crackle of a communicator, and the ever breathing ship.

With a thud to the ground you were able to finally gain some vision to look over. Over to see Jimmy was dead on the ground, with a bullet hole through his forehead. Those terrifying eyes were now glsssy and empty. Looked almost relaxed. The only time he seemed to rest.

He was dead.

Your vision was blurring, and noise around you was muffled. All you could hear was muffled noise. Was like you were underwater. Your vision was starting to blur again as well. Couldn’t make out shapes.

You thought you saw someone with black hair above you. Seeming to grab something and speak into it. Was there something yellow to? Yellow and shaking you? There was also this almost pinkish blur as well. Came to you, and you swore you heard someone saying ‘you’re a hero’ before it all went to black.

One Month After The Call.

“Morning sunshine.”

You would groan, as you rubbed at your eyes. What happened? Was it all some bad dream? Where were you? This place didn’t look like the med-bay. Was so clean and white. There were windows too. Holy shit was that daylight? REAL daylight?

“Over here.”

You turned your head, and you saw him. Captain Curly. Looked so much better than when you last recalled him. His skin wasn’t as red, proper bandages were on him, and his lips even seemed to be healing back. Skin graphs? Was still laying in a bed, but far more cared for. Proper bedding, clean, IV bags, and…Wait…..Did he speak?!

“Been out a while. Don’t worry not much to catch you up on. You kinda went into a medical coma, from what Anya tried to explain to me. Everyone agreed to put you in the Cryo-Pod until help arrived. Was the only way to keep us both alive. All the resources had to go to me, sorry about that, so they had to pretty much freeze you in time. Big Swan had managed to make it function enough to work until the rescue team came for us. Welcome to the land of the living, hero.”

Even with his messed up complexion, and voice so hoarse you thought he himself was speaking through a communicator, you smiled. A hero huh? Wait. That meant….

“Did Anya pull the trigger?” You asked, with your own voice rasp from lack of use.

“Yeah. Yeah she did. We heard you screaming and she just….Couldn’t let you be his next victim. You gave her some bravery. I already knew she was brave, but damn. Who needs a Captain when you have her?” His laughter was painful, but you knew it was worth it.

“How’s everyone else?”

“Anya has been working with staff here. They took her in to be a doctor with them when they saw that the likes of me was still alive and functional. They really didn’t want to lose someone as smart as her. Daisuke has been glued here as much as us-“ He would weakly raise his arm, what’s left anyway, towards the sleeping solider. Curled up on a spare cot that was brought in for him. The staff having been understanding that he deserved to be around you both. His parents most likely were the ones to bring in all the video games for him to play with and show Curly as well. Even after so much he was still taking care of the ones he loved.

“Swansea?” You worried the most, since you wondered where he could be.

“Sueing the ever living fuck out of Pony Express for whatever damn dime they have left. Daisuke’s parents, and him, have been at the forefront on it all. He will come visit us soon. Get some rest, sunshine. You’ve earned it.” But you couldn’t help but worry. A worry that one person wasn’t accounted for.

“He’s dead. I do mean dead dead. By the time help arrived he had already well started decomposing. Swansea even went the extra mile and cut his head off from his body. Kinda overkill, but hey….Can’t take risks with monsters. Right?” You nodded at that, as you were able to rest.

No more Jimmy.

No more space ships.

Time to finally be a princess and get your beauty sleep.

“Sleep well, sunshine.”

“You to, Captain.”

A deep breath in of that sterilized air, fresh cut grass, and clean cotton.

You were free.

[simpforrooster]

actually, it’s captain.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.

t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.

Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.

Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”

You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.

“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.

“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.

And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.

“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.

Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.

But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.

You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.

Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”

Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.

“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.

“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.

“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”

At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.

“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.

Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.

Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”

“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.

You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.

“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back.

Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.

“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.

Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.

Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.

“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.

“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.

masterlist.

[ellieswrldd]

whiskey neat

pairing: cowgirl!ellie williams x f!reader

summary: ellie's a gunslinging outlaw who seems to have taken a liking to you, the pretty saloon girl.

content warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, thigh riding, train robbery, set during the 1800s, slightly awkward ellie, reader's 1st time with a woman

a/n: this is my thank u for 800 followers!! pic creds to riverexwren on pinterest 💗

“The necklace, hand it over,”

Your hands trembled with fear as you touched the locket strung around your neck. A shiny revolver was pointed at your nose and left you speechless.

Train robberies weren’t as common as they used to be, the law had grown stronger and outlaws were quickly becoming something of the past. At least that’s what the newspapers said.

Either the papers were wrong or you were just plain unlucky as you sat in the middle of a train robbery.

“I said hand it over,” The man holding the gun demanded, his eyes squinting as he inched the gun closer.

“Leave it, man, head to the front and help break those safes open, we don’t have time for your shit.” Your eyes darted past the barrel of the gun and landed on another masked assailant.

Auburn hair was tucked under a black cowboy hat, a scar running through one of her brows, striking green eyes, and a black bandana that covered the rest of her face. The man rolled his eyes and pushed past the woman, allowing you to find your breath. The woman’s eyes seemed to linger on your face before her brows furrowed and she looked back at the other passengers.

“Everybody stay seated, we’re just gonna take what we need and then we’ll be on our way, got it?” She stated loudly. Her hand rested comfortably on the handle of her gun as she spoke.

The following hour passed in a blur, you sat nervously in your seat as the woman kept watch. After a while, a few men returned and gave the woman a nod, bags of money in their hands.

“We’ve got the stuff, let’s get the hell outta here,” the man from earlier said. The woman looked back at him and nodded. She glanced back in your direction once more before leaving the train with her gang.

Just as soon as they had ridden off, the lawmen arrived. The train was up and running again and the officers went around interviewing the passengers as the train started toward the city. Everyone was rather shaken up but it seemed like there were few casualties, the only deaths being that of a few guards.

The rest of the day you were stuck in a haze, shaken by the robbery. People asked about the details but you simply shook your head and waved them away, it was clear you wanted to forget the whole ordeal.

Weeks passed slowly, spring turned into summer, and you eventually moved on from the train incident. Nothing ever came of it, the assailants were never identified and nobody was able to offer up any useful intel about the robbery so you simply continued on with your life.

You worked as a saloon girl at the local bar which wasn’t the best gig, but it certainly paid well. The busy atmosphere kept you entertained during the night and you were typically free during the days.

Dressed in a vibrant blue gown you sauntered around the bar, refilling drinks and sweet-talking some of the men, nothing you weren’t used to. As you made your rounds, you caught sight of someone who piqued your interest. She sat by herself at a small round table near the corner of the room.

Other than the saloon gals, women didn’t frequent the joint often so you always felt curious when you spotted a female patron. Something about this lady in particular seemed familiar despite the fact you couldn’t recall ever meeting someone like her. With that short, reddish hair she’d be hard to miss for certain, so why was she so familiar?

“You look like you could use a refill,” You smiled at her as you approached, a hand on your hip. She looked up at you and pulled her cigarette from her lips. After exhaling the smoke away from you, the girl sat up a little straighter and shrugged.

“Guess I could, or maybe I could just use some company.” Her voice was a bit raspy but it sounded like sweet honey to your ears. She passed you her empty glass and took another drag from her cigarette. “Whiskey, neat,”

You giggled and took the glass. You stepped away to refill the glass before returning to her table. She cracked a charming smile and nodded toward the seat beside her as she took the glass from your hands.

“Why have I never met you before? Passing through town?” You asked as you slid into the chair next to her. The girl tapped her fingers on her glass cup.

“Something like that. I’m not from ‘round here.” She took a drag from her cigarette and made sure to blow the smoke away from your direction.

“You seem awfully familiar, are you sure we’ve never crossed paths?”

“I doubt it,” She paused for a moment before speaking again. “I think I’d remember a pretty face like yours,”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks and you smiled. “Flattery won’t get you free drinks, miss…?” You trailed off, waiting for her to finish your sentence.

“Williams, but you can call me Ellie.”

The conversation between you two flowed easily, even with Ellie’s flirtatious banter. As it neared midnight you noticed the people begin to return home, of course, a few drunkards still milling about inside.

“I better go,” You said quietly, glancing at the door. Ellie bit her cheek and nodded. She threw back the remaining alcohol she had in her cup and stood up.

“Let me walk you home, it’s not safe for a pretty lady to walk home alone.” You laughed and rolled your eyes when you saw her outstretched hand.

“I assure you I am no lady,” You took her hand and stood up. Ellie chuckled and shook her head.

“Lead the way,”

You didn’t live too far from the saloon and for once you wished the walk was longer. Maybe it was stupid of you to get involved with someone who clearly didn’t plan on sticking around for long, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

“I like that necklace of yours, it’s real nice,” Ellie commented, her eyes gazing at the locket, then falling a bit lower to the low cut of your bodice.

Politely, you thanked her and continued speaking, but something inside of you was stuck on her comment.

It was then that you finally realized exactly who she was and why you remembered her. The intriguing gunslinger who couldn’t keep her eyes off you while her partners robbed a train was the very same woman walking you home.

As you stopped in front of your door, you turned to Ellie.

“Ellie, I need to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me.”

The other girl looked confused but nodded.

“It was you on that train, wasn’t it?”

She stared at you silently for a second, her mouth slightly agape, it was as if she was trying to think of the right response.

“Be honest with me please,” You sighed. “I know we just met, but I like you and I like your company, and I want to know who I’m talkin’ to. I’m surely not pure, I’ve done bad things too, I swear I would never tell—” You rambled on before Ellie interrupted you.

“Yes, that was me.” Her voice was a raspy mumble, and her eyes were focused on her dusty boots.

“Okay,” The words escaped you as a whisper and suddenly you realized how nervous you felt. The nerves could be partially attributed to the fact you had confirmed your suspicions, but you knew they were because of something more.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, I hope you know that—”

“Do you want to come inside?”

Ellie bit her lip and nodded, a small smile forming on her face. She followed you inside while she tried her best to conceal the stupid smile that was pulling at her cheeks. You watched as she slipped her heavy jacket off and hung it on the coat hanger, and you inhaled when you saw the shine of her revolver tucked into her pants.

“You’re lookin’ at my gun,” She stated and followed your gaze. “I can put it away or something if it scares you,”

You simply shook your head and ran your hands down the front of your skirt. “I’m not scared,”

“Okay then,”

The tension between the two of you seemed to fill the entire room and you couldn’t seem to look Ellie in the eyes.

“Maybe I ought to go,” Ellie murmured. It was evident that neither of you wanted that, the way she was inching closer to you certainly confirmed that.

“Maybe you ought to stay,” You looked up and finally made eye contact with her. “You make me so…” You trailed off quietly as you looked down at her lips and registered how close she was.

“So what?” Her hand reached out and gently brushed against your wrist.

“…Nervous,” You breathed. It seemed like your lips were only mere inches apart.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

Ellie ran her fingers up your bare arm slowly before gently cupping your cheek.

“Don’t toy with me,” You mutter and Ellie laughed softly. She pulled you in and kissed you softly, her lips molding against yours.

The kiss was everything you needed. It was passionate and messy and perfect. You had never done anything like this with another woman before and it scared you, but Ellie’s lips moved so sweetly that it made you forget all of your worries.

It wasn’t long until the kiss turned from sweet to fiery with Ellie’s tongue sliding against your own and her hands traveling down your back. A soft moan escaped your lips when Ellie squeezed your hips gently.

“God, you’re so— you make me—” Ellie breathed heavily and buried her face in your exposed neck, her lips moving hungrily against your skin. Your hands traveled to her hair as she sucked and nipped at your neck.

“Ellie,” You panted her name and tugged her hair gently until she pulled away.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?” She muttered, brows furrowed.

“No! No, I loved that, I just— I’ve never done this before, not with a woman I mean,” Her hands remained on your hips as you spoke.

“I-I’ll help you, I don’t mind,” Ellie’s cheeks turned pink and she pulled you close again. “Should we go to your bedroom..?” She asked.

You nodded and intertwined your fingers with hers before leading her to your room. It wasn’t much but it was homey, charming even.

Ellie wasted no time to kiss you again, this time her hands moved presumptuously across your body. From sliding across your torso and chest to squeezing your ass through the delicate fabrics of your dress, Ellie’s movements only grew bolder with your responses.

Slowly, Ellie tugged the skirt of your dress up, revealing your skin inch by inch.

“Take it off me,” You whispered. And so she did, untying your corset like her life depended on it and carefully lifting the dress above your head, so as not to stretch anything. Then, finally, you stood before her completely bare.

“You are so beautiful,” She said, her eyes glued to the curves and shape of your body. You reached out and unbuttoned her shirt slowly but surely. Ellie’s breathing seemed to deepen as you moved lower, the curves of her small breasts now visible as you undid the last few buttons. Then, you took her gun from her waistband and set it on your nightstand for safekeeping.

Your hands found their way to the button of her pants next, shakily undoing them as she watched you intently. She kicked her pants off along with her undergarments and was completely nude.

“Show me what to do,” You met her eyes and waited for her to guide you. Her hands found yours and grabbed your wrists, moving your hands to her breasts.

“Touch me here,” She instructed. Ellie took in a sharp breath when you rolled her nipples between your fingers, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Th-that's good, yeah,”

“What else?”

She bit her lip and took one of your hands, moving it to cup her cunt.

“You feel that? How wet I am?” You nodded quickly. “It’s because of you, because of how bad I want you,”

“M-Me too,” You stammered, suddenly aware of the wet heat in between your legs.

“Lay down, I’ll take care of you,” Ellie smiled and stood over you as you lay on your bed. Crawling on top of you, Ellie kissed you sweetly a few times before she moved lower and latched her mouth onto your nipple. Her tongue swirled around your stiff nipples, drawing out needy whining from you.

Her fingers began to slowly rub your puffy clit in lazy circles while she kept your legs spread. She wanted nothing more than to fuck you in every way possible, rough and fast, but she knew you needed something slow right now, something caring and gentle to get you started.

Ellie kissed and licked and suckled across your tits, a trail of hickeys and saliva all over your chest.

“Ellie,” You whined and squirmed beneath her. She was moving so slowly and it was nice, but you were so needy and you couldn’t take the teasing.

“I know, just– hold on,” She pulled away and moved to sit against the headboard of the bed. “Come here,” Ellie reached her hand out to you. You sat up and crawled over to her, sitting in her lap as she pulled you on top of her.

Ellie spread her legs out and cleared her throat. “Sit on my thigh,” You followed her instruction and straddled her thigh, one of your thighs on each side. “Yeah, just like that,” In this position, you could feel the heat of her skin against your entire pussy.

“What do I do?” You murmur, glancing down and back up at her.

“Put your hands here,” She placed your hands on her shoulders. “And just rock back and forth, slowly,” She inhaled deeply as you did what she said and you started grinding yourself against her thigh. Ellie’s hands found their way to your thighs and she squeezed your soft skin.

Low moans and whimpers came from your wet lips while you rubbed yourself against her. As you moved back and forth, you had begun to push your knee against Ellie’s clit just enough for her to feel a delicious friction.

“N-Now you can speed up, you’re doing so well,” She panted and gazed at you with half-lidded eyes. Her hands slid up from your thighs to your hips where she helped roll your hips a bit faster and harder against her thigh. Ellie had also begun to grind her clit against your knee, moaning your name as she too chased the pleasure.

By now her thigh was covered in your juices, shining in the moonlight that poured through your windows. Ellie listened as your moans grew higher and louder, and took that as a sign that you were nearing your climax.

Everything was sloppy and messy, but it was the best feeling you’d ever experienced. Your two bodies moving together sensually, both of you craving and chasing orgasm, your skin on hers.

Soon enough, both you and Ellie were crying out and shaking while you were overcome with pleasure. You fell limp against her and her arms encircled you.

The room was silent with the only sounds being you and Ellie’s breathing.

“That was—” You sighed.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughed softly and rubbed your back. “You did good,”

“You think so?” You ran a finger along her collarbone.

“I know so,” She gave you a smile. “You ought to get some rest, it’s late,” Ellie kissed your cheek.

“Only if you promise not to run off?”

“Okay, I promise,” She whispered. You pulled the bedsheets over your bodies and settled down for the night.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed. You frowned and turned to the other side of the bed. Ellie stood by your window, a cigarette in hand as she blew the smoke through the opened window.

“Good morning,” She said when she turned her head to look at you.

As you looked at her your head raced with wild dreams and ideas, things you wish you could say and do, but you simply smiled at her and watched Ellie take another drag of her cigarette.

You would never be allowed to be with Ellie publicly, homosexuality was a sin in the eyes of society. Not to mention, Ellie Williams was an outlaw.

What you had done with her was wrong, so so wrong, and yet you couldn’t help but yearn for more.

[thedoodlenoodle14]

A little late to do spooky stuff, but I did it anyways :p

Sooo....a little backstory behind this....It's a concept I did based on my Murder Drones AU Story (It lives on Ebony 8), which takes place after the events of Murder Drones.

Xane (red dude) is controlled by Cyn, not as a host, but as a puppet instead. Cyn uses him to find a sustainable host and to therefore eventually make her return.

Eric (blue dude), is Xane's worker drone friend, and of course, Eric wants to protect himself and Green ( the green gal next to him XD), but obviously doesn't want to hurt Xane.

I'm thinking of using this concept as a possible test comic (just to see how characters would interact with one another as well as building up the planet my story takes place on.

But yeeea...poor Xane has gone a little insane....TvT....also, I realised I dunno how to draw a gun lol

[duffslut]

Be my daddy

Modern Izzy Stradlin x Reader

My Masterlist.

Word Count: 793

Warnings: Smut! Minors Dni.

Taglist: @guns-n-roses-gal @a4tumnvenice @used-to-love-her-06 @changbinsdummythiccahrms @guitarsfan @em-21 @their80smichelle @svrgs-blog @rocketttqueennn @wiifitboard @unknownperson246 @fxcethestrange @lovergirl4slash @rottoneggs01 @metallical0ver @brunette-barbie4562 @appetiteforattitude @prettypersuasion @gyaas @nenynra @brezeblog @damianodavds @ch3rry-earrings @1-800-meth-blog @hauntedrosie @inkieink @rocketqueen1989x @rafesgirl7 @thatsoversace @maverickman5k @metallicaloverrr @xoxytoxinx @queenoftheundergroundscene @beebemarie @yourowngirlie @impuls1ve

Izzy didn't leave his laptop all day working on his new songs, completely forgetting that you were also at home with him, bored and a bit needy too.

- Izzy, how much longer will this take? - You asked dramatically, pouting.

He looked at you quickly and then returned his gaze to the screen.

- A few more hours. - He said seriously, focused on whatever he was doing on his laptop.

- HOURS?! - You exclaimed and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder feeling the refreshing scent of his freshly washed hair. - I can't wait that long, I need you now...

Izzy ignored you completely but you didn't give up, he was just too pretty with that black button-down shirt almost completely open, revealing his chest. Something about seeing him like that, with such a serious expression, almost as if he were mad, made you extremely horny for him, you simply couldn't bear not to ride him for "a few more hours".

You kissed the soft skin of his neck, then behind his ear and back to his neck, his eyes still glued to the screen, you decided to go further, sliding one of your hands down his shirt, touching his stomach. Since nothing you did seemed to catch his attention, you lowered your hands even further and pressed his crotch, his hand immediately landed on top of yours and gently took it away.

- Not now Y/n. - Izzy muttered.

His refusal only made your panties wetter, you decided you wouldn't leave him alone until his dick was inside you, work wasn't a priority, you were. You sat on his lap, facing him, fitting your groin right on top of his member, you wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted his head slightly towards you.

- I want you daddy... - You whispered in his ear and immediately noticed the change in his posture. - I need you...

You smiled feeling his cock harden beneath you, he always went crazy when you called him daddy.

- You can't do this every time I'm trying to work, bunny. - Izzy said in a low tone, lifting your tank top exposing your breasts. - You dirty girl.

You smiled in satisfaction as his lips began to kiss your tits, the warm touch of his mouth made you let out a needy moan, your hips moved on his lap, rubbing your wet pussy over his covered cock.

Izzy continued to suck on your tits as he slipped his hand inside your panties, making your body shiver as his long fingers touched your cunt.

- Please Izzy... - You moaned, throwing your back back, biting your lips hard, feeling his fingers move inside you.

Izzy took his hand out of your panties and lifted your body, laying you on the glass table next to his laptop, pulling your panties off roughly.

- It's daddy for you. - He muttered. - Now say it.

You lifted your legs and looked into his eyes.

- Please rail me daddy. - You begged, feeling your pussy throb for him.

Your mind went blank for a few seconds when Izzy thrust his big, hard cock inside you without hesitation, pounding deep and hard into your cunt, your lips couldn't form a single word as his hand squeezed your neck, your mouth was half open and your whole body moved with his thrusts. your forehead was sweating just like his, your shirt now unbuttoned, keeping your gaze fixed on his abdomen as you felt your toes curl and your body contract, you just couldn't take it anymore when Izzy started whispering dirty words to you.

- I'm gonna put a baby inside you, honey... - Izzy groaned as he stimulated your orgasm by rubbing his fingers on your clit. - I won't stop until I've filled you with my cum...

You nodded, clenching your pussy around his cock as you came, moaning as the electrifying sensation coursed through your blood.

- Oh fuck! - Izzy moaned as he felt your cum smear his cock, taking it out of you and spreading it all over your pussy, surrounding your entrance and teasing your clitoris by slamming his dick against it a few times. - It's Daddy's turn now. - He murmured, throwing your legs over his shoulders and leaning down to your face, slapping your face before cupping your cheeks. - And you will take all of it, right baby?

His cock slid deeply inside you again, ramming your cervix making you moan desperately feeling it throbbing inside you.

- Make me a mommy, daddy! - You moaned, squeezing your own tits to relieve all the heat weighing down your body.

Izzy came harder than usual, and you knew he had filled your womb with his seed, probably impregnating you at that very moment.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Jus In Bello | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: yay arrests, canon violence, canon gore, henriksen being lowkey bigoted, mentions of smut (MDNI, 18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6043

A/N: my american readers, i know we are all mourning this week. i hope that this brightens your day a bit. i love you all!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Somewhere in Colorado, you and the Winchesters managed to track Bela down to a hotel. You rushed in with your gun stowed in your jacket and were surprised to find no one. Confused, you searched through drawers hoping to find the Colt instead. 

“Any sign of it?” Dean whispered commandingly. 

“No,” you replied. “This is definitely her room, though.” You held up three wigs from the dresser. 

Suddenly, the phone in the room rang. You shared a confused look with Sam and Dean. You picked the phone up trepidatiously, and didn’t say a word into it. 

“(Y/N)? Sweetie, are you there?”

“Bela,” you hissed. “Where are you?”

“Two states away by now.”

“Where?” you snarled. 

“Where’s our usual quippy banter? I miss it,” she sing-songed. 

“I want it back, Bela. Now.”

“Your little pistol, you mean?” she tsked. “Sorry, I can’t at the moment.”

“You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?” you argued. 

“What exactly is it that you think I plan to do with it?” she scoffed. 

“Uh, I don’t know, take our only weapon against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder?” you remarked. 

“You know nothing about me,” she replied bitingly. 

“I know I’ll stop you,” you said evenly. 

“Tough words for a gal who can’t even find me.”

“I’ll find you, I swear to god. Because I have absolutely nothing better to do than hunt you down and kill you,” you said. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re about to be quite occupied.” Her words had a sinking feeling forming in your stomach. “Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions?”

Suddenly, police officers burst into the room and pointed guns at you and the Winchesters. Immediately, you put your hands above your head and dropped the phone. 

“Hands in the air!” an officer shouted. “Down on your knees.”

“That bitch,” Dean growled from his position on the floor beside you. 

The officers forced you down onto the ground with your hands behind your back. When the officers repeated your Miranda rights, though, you noticed Bela had only given your first name. Thankfully, your full identity was still concealed. 

Though, that momentary relief quickly dissipated when you heard the voice of the man you’d spoken to on the phone of that bank in the shapeshifter case.

“Hi, guys,” Henriksen said. “It’s been a while.”

You watched Dean lay his head down on the floor beside you in defeat. 

***

Stoicism had always been your forte when it came to run-ins with the police. Dean, however, was as quippy and defensive as ever. You loved him more than anything, but that was definitely not going to work in your favor in this situation. 

Dean and Sam were shackled together and brought into the police station first. Meanwhile, one guard stayed with you in the police car. Unfortunately, you were frisked upon your arrest, and anything you had to help you get out of your cuffs were now unavailable to you. 

One other guard returned and led you into the police station. You cut your eyes at the secretary clutching a rosary and cowering in fear while she muttered what you assumed to be a prayer. You smirked at the irony of the situation. 

You were then thrown into the cell across from Sam and Dean; the only two cells in the entire station. You remained silent, not even talking to Sam and Dean. Your anxiety was quickly getting the better of you. No matter what escape plan you tried to think of, you knew it was a lost cause. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Dean called from across the hall. 

You kept your eyes at the ground. 

Then, the sound of footsteps you attributed to Henriksen approached. He stopped between the two cells, pacing around and addressing the three of you. “You know what I’m trying to decide?”

“I don’t know—”

‘Don’t do it, Dean,’ you thought. 

“What?” your partner continued to remark. “Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?”

“What to have for dinner tonight.” Henriksen clearly had no time for Dean’s comments today. “Steak or lobster, what the hell, surf and turf. I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you three in chains…”

“You kinky son of a bitch. We don’t swing that way,” Dean sneered. 

“Now, that’s funny.” 

“You know, I wouldn’t bust out the melted butter just yet,” Dean continued. “Couldn’t catch us at the bank, couldn’t keep us in that jail.”

“You’re right. Fucked up,” Henriksen nodded. “I underestimated you. I didn’t count on you being that smart, but now, I’m ready.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, ready to lose us again?”

“Ready like a court order to keep you in a supermaximum prison in Nevada till trial. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell, so that between you and me… probably unconstitutional.”

Your stomach flipped again at his words. 

“How’s that for ready?” Henriksen smiled. “Take a good look at Sam and— oh, nice to meet you, (Y/N)— you three will never see each other again.”

You felt like you could throw up. 

“Aw,” the officer mocked. “Where’s that smug smile, Dean? I want to see it.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You got the wrong guys.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry, Dean. Truth is, your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk, and no doubt, touched you in a bad place.”

‘Oh, fuck. C’mon, Dean, don’t do it,’ you silently begged. 

“That’s all. That’s reality,” Henriksen finished. 

“Why don’t you shut your mouth?” Dean spat through his teeth. 

“Well, guess what. Life sucks. Get a helmet. ‘Cause everybody’s got a sob story. But not everybody becomes a killer,” the officer pushed back. “And now I have three less to worry about. But what I’m curious about…” Henriksen turned to you. “What happened to you, (Y/N)? What’s your sob story?”

You stared up at him through your eyebrows angrily. 

“What, you met these two on the road somewhere? They convince you of this Satanist crap? Then what, you start givin’ it up to one of ‘em?”

“You shut your mouth now, Henriksen,” Dean roared. 

“Hmm,” the officer hummed. “I’m guessing it was Dean. I almost feel sorry for you. But I gotta tell you, that’s not your only issue, here. It took a while, but I figured you out. You an immigrant? ‘Cause you’re undocumented. Where you from? So I can send your ass back wherever you came from, and they can deal with you as they see fit.”

You still did not respond to him despite the rage and panic bubbling just below the surface. 

Henriksen seemed to get bored and look down at his watch. “Ah, well. It’s surf and turf time.” He laughed coldly and walked away from you. 

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked, reflex seeming to have him pulling on the chains attached to his brother to try and get to you. 

You nodded.

“So, this is how it ends, huh?” Dean tried to remark. 

“No, Dean,” you murmured quietly. “We’ll figure something out.” After the “Mystery Spot” ordeal, you just wanted to spend some time with Dean taking a quiet case or finding Bela. This was not how you would’ve chosen for his last three months to go. You couldn’t believe this was going to be your fate.

Your anxiety was quickly getting the better of you, and you wanted nothing more than to be in the cell with Sam and Dean just for some form of comfort. 

Instead, you were isolated from them. You were feeling more and more isolated from both Winchesters lately. Maybe not physically but mentally. Mentally, you were just living in fear of the day that Dean left you. You were scared of what you were going to become after his death, especially after what the trickster told you. 

A man entering the cells from the office area caught your attention. He closed the heavy door behind him. “Sam and Dean Winchester. And Ms. (Y/N). I’m Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure.”

“Well, glad one of us feels that way,” Dean sneered. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you three to come out of the woodwork.” Suddenly, Steven spun around and shot at you, hitting you in the left shoulder. You shrieked in pain. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean and Sam yelled. 

You fell back to the ground and scrambled around the cell trying to get away from the shots the man was firing. 

Sam must have realized the man was possessed and began the exorcism ritual, making Steven’s head whip from side to side. He stopped firing, thankfully. “Sorry, I've gotta cut this short. It’s gonna be a long night, fellas.” Then, the familiar black smoke shot out of Steven’s body, and the man screamed. 

Henriksen and two other officers burst through the door. 

“What the hell was that?” one officer asked. 

“Put the gun down!” another commanded.

“He shot him!” 

Sam froze, still holding the gun. “I didn’t shoot him, okay. I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“He shot me!” you squeaked pointing to the man on the ground. You rolled toward the cold cement floor holding your left shoulder with the opposite arm. 

“Get on your knees, now!” Henriksen ordered. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Sam mollified. “Don’t shoot. Please. Look. Here.” He passed the gun through the bars. “Look. We didn’t shoot him. Check the body. There’s no blood. We did not kill him. Go ahead, check him.”

One officer stooped to check Steven’s body. “Vic, there’s no bullet wound.”

“He’s probably been dead for months,” Dean explained. “What did you do to him?” Henriksen demanded. 

“We didn’t do anything,” Dean responded. 

“Talk or I shoot!”

“You won’t believe us.”

“He was possessed,” Sam began. 

“Possessed? Right,” the agent laughed coldly. “Fire up the chopper! We’re taking them out of here now.”

“Yeah! Do that!” Dean threw his hands up as best he could in his cuffs in exasperation. 

“Bill?” there was static on the other end of the radio in one officer’s hands. “Bill, are you there?” There was no answer. 

Henriksen nodded for the man to go check outside. 

The three other officers stood with their guns pointed at each of you. 

You continued to writhe, the bullet wound in your shoulder making the entire left side of your torso hurt, waves of heat emanating from the hole in both sides of your shoulder. 

“Could somebody help her for fuck’s sake?!” Dean grunted.

“They’re dead,” you heard the radio in an officer’s belt say. “I think they’re all dead.” His voice was cut off with a loud scream. 

Henriksen grabbed the radio. “What the hell was that? Reidy? Reidy?! Come in? Reidy? Reidy?”

Henriksen never got a response. He and the other officers left trying to help the one who was likely dead by now.

You started trying to shove the jacket around your body into your wound as best you could with the limited amount of fabric and range of motion due to the cuffs around your wrists. Then, you noticed a roll of toilet paper atop the metal toilet in the corner.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” Dean asked. 

You laughed through your pain as you crawled toward the toilet. 

“I know, I know, stupid question. I wanna come help you. I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault,” you hissed through your teeth, trying to keep pressure on the wound with the toilet paper. 

Then, the lights in the prison went off. 

Dean looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, that can’t be good.”

“Nope,” you groaned. “Fuck, man, what the fuck. What is wrong with our lives?”

Both brothers chuckled. 

Henriksen came back into the cell area. “What’s the plan? Kill everyone in the station, bust you three out?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean shot back. 

“I’m talking about your psycho friends. I’m talking about a blood bath,” Henriksen pressed. 

“Um, evidently, they’re not here to help us,” you groaned, motioning to the bullet wound in your shoulder. 

“She speaks,” Henriksen droned. 

“Look, you got to believe us,” Sam begged. “Everyone here is in terrible danger.”

“You think?”

“Why don’t you let us out of here so we can save your asses?” Dean begged. 

“From what? You gonna say ‘demons’?” He raised his gun, pointing it at the ceiling. “Don’t you dare say ‘demons’. Let me tell you something. You should be a lot more scared of me.” Then, he left. 

“How’s the shoulder?” Sam asked you. 

You took a pad of toilet paper with a large blood stain on it away from your shoulder. “I’ll live,” you shrugged. 

“Y’know, if we get out of here alive,” Dean added. 

“Right. So you got a plan?” you asked the brothers. 

Just then, you noticed the secretary peeking around a corner outside your cells. 

“Hey,” you said to her. 

Nancy backed off immediately, scared. 

“Hey, Nancy,” Dean said. “Look, my girl’s been shot real bad. Can you— Can you get her a towel, or something? Just one clean towel, okay?”

Nancy looked unsure. 

“Please, I’m beggin’ you here. Trust me, I don’t do that often,” Dean told her, trying to get her to open up a little. “Look. Look at us. We’re not the bad guys. I swear.” He gave her a smile, and Nancy shuffled away. 

You deflated. “Nice try,” you told Dean. “Thank you.” Your eyes sank to the ground, and then, movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

It was Nancy, who was back with a towel. 

“Thank you,” you smiled gratefully. 

“Thanks, Nancy,” said Dean. 

Nancy backed away from you when she’d given you your towel. Suddenly, Sam grabbed her from behind and pulled her against the bars. 

Nancy screamed, and an officer came in with a rifle.

“Let her go!” the officer demanded. “Let her go!”

Sam let Nancy go, and she left horrified. 

“You’re okay, Nance?” the officer asked her.

She nodded. 

The officer turned his attention back to Sam. “Try something again, get shot. And not in the arm.”

“Okay,” said Sam. 

“What the fuck was that?” Dean questioned, upset. 

Sam held up Nancy’s rosary. 

You snorted out a giggle. 

***

The towel was helpful, but not as helpful as some stitches, a clean bandage, and some antiseptic would be. 

“We’re like sitting ducks in here,” said Sam.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know. Would it kill these cops to bring us a snack?!” he shouted out his last words.

“Always thinkin’ with your stomach,” you snorted. 

Dean gave you a playful glare. 

“How many you figure are out there?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “But they could be possessing anyone. Anyone could just walk right in, and we’d have no idea.”

“It's kind of wild, right? I mean, it’s like they’re coming for us. They’ve never done that before.” Dean smiled suddenly. “It’s like we got a contract on us. Think it’s because we’re so awesome? I think it’s ‘cause we’re so awesome.” 

You and Sam rolled your eyes. 

A sheriff entered and unlocked your cell.

“Well, howdy, there, sheriff,” Dean said to the officer. 

You stood, immediately uncomfortable and alert. “Uh, sheriff?”

“It’s time to go, darlin’,” he said monotonously. 

You backed up into the cell. “Uh, I’m okay! I’m comfy right here. Thanks, though.”

Henriksen suddenly appeared. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re not just gonna sit around here and wait to die. We’re gonna make a run for it,” the man replied. 

“It’s safer here,” Henriksen pushed. 

“There’s a SWAT facility in Boulder.”

Henriksen stepped into your cell. “We’re not going anywhere.” Then, he shot the officer in the head. 

“Sam!” you yelled, and he tossed you Nancy’s rosary as you dodged a blow from the demon possessing Henriksen. You wrestled the gun away from him and threw it out of the cell. You scrambled to subdue the demon and dropped the rosary into the toilet. 

Between shouts from the brothers trying to break out of their cell and Henriksen grunting as you wrestled him, you got your cuffs around Henriksen’s neck and pulled hard. 

You knew it would hurt like a mother, but you flipped yourself over Henriksen’s head and pulled him to the ground with you where the holy-water toilet bowl was waiting. You shouted out an exorcism, continuously forcing his head into the bowl. You sat on his shoulders trying to use all your body weight to way the much stronger man down. 

“Hurry up!” you heard Dean yelling. 

“It’s too late. I already called them!” the demon told you between gasps as his head came out of the water. “They’re already coming.”

You shoved him back into the water and finished the exorcism. 

Henriksen screamed as black smoke shot out of his mouth and into the air vent in the ceiling. 

You got off the man’s back and sat down on the bed, panting. Henriksen had fallen to the floor. You then noticed the small crowd that had gathered around your open cell. 

“Is he… is he dead?” Nancy squeaked. 

Henriksen regained consciousness and coughed. “Henriksen! Hey,” called Sam. “Is that you in there?”

You got down to Henriksen’s level to give him a once-over. 

“I… I shot the sheriff,” Henriksen breathed out. 

You could feel Dean’s next quip coming. “But you didn't shoot the deputy.”

Despite yourself, you snorted out a laugh. You quickly regained your composure when you noticed Sam’s glare. 

“Five minutes ago, I was fine, and then…” 

You cut Henriksen off. “Black smoke? You were possessed.”

He looked up at you in disbelief. “Possessed, like… possessed?”

“That’s what it feels like. Now you know,” you shrugged. 

“I owe you the biggest “I told you so” ever.” Dean returned his gun to Henriksen. 

The agent stood and addressed the officer standing behind him that you’d just noticed. “Officer Amici. Keys.”

With said keys, he released you and the brothers from your cells and chains. 

Dean rushed to your side. 

“Alright, so how do we survive?” Henriksen looked between the three of you.

***

Dean insisted on patching you up. You insisted you could do it yourself, but Dean was just as stubborn as you were. Finally, you allowed him to work on you. 

Sam had drawn two devil’s traps on the floor of the station in the midst of Dean tending to you. The officer, whose name you learned was Phil, helped Henriksen prepare guns. 

Dean snorted at the guns. “Well, that’s nice. It’s not gonna do much good.”

“We got an arsenal here,” Phil replied. 

“It’s like using a BB gun on a T-Rex. That’s just gonna make them mad,” you informed them. 

“What do you need?” asked Henriksen. 

Dean smirked slightly. “Salt. Lots and lots of salt.”

Phil scoffed. “Salt?”

“What, is there an echo in here?”

“There’s road salt in the storeroom,” Nancy piped up from the corner. 

“Perfect. Perfect,” Dean sighed in relief. “We need salt at every window and every door.”

Henriksen and Phil left to go retrieve it. 

You hissed as Dean made a particularly rough jab at your arm with his stitching and grabbed his wrist. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

You stroked his wrist with your thumb briefly before dropping your hand. You turned to Nancy, who looked on silently. “How you holdin’ up, angel?”

“Okay,” she shrugged, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “When I was little, I would come home from the Church and start to talk about the devil. And my parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh?” 

You laughed softly. “Evangelical?” 

“Yeah, actually,” she replied. “I would ask if you are, but…” 

You laughed. “No. Raised Catholic, though.”

She made a sound of disapproval.

You laughed again. “Yeah, I’m not exactly crazy about it, either.”

Dean finished wrapping the bandage around your shoulder while you talked to Nancy. “Thank you,” you told your partner. 

He kissed your forehead as he stood from his chair. Phil returned at that moment. 

“Hey, where's my car?” asked Dean. 

“Impound lot out back,” Phil replied. 

Dean moved to leave. 

“Wait.” Phil stopped Dean. “You’re not going out there?”

“Yeah, I got to get something out of my trunk.”

You immediately stood to follow him. “I’m coming with you.”

“(Y/N), no,” Dean warned. 

“Dean,” you responded, leaving no room for argument. His gaze was intense, but you held it with equal ferocity. He was the first to look away, informing you that you’d won the argument. 

You smiled cheerfully and followed him out to the Impala. 

As soon as you were outside, Dean was angrily ranting. “I’m gonna fucking kill Bela, I swear.”

“Not if I kill her first.”

“I mean, she nearly got you fucking killed. Over a gun that means nothing to her. What the fuck is she playing at?” 

“Dean—” you tried to cut him off. 

“I swear to god, I’m gonna make it slow and painful.”

“Dean—”

“She’s gonna wish we got locked up in supermax,” he growled. 

“Dean—!”

“What?!” he asked, turning to face you. 

You were looking at him with such admiration, and his shoulders relaxed immediately as did his angry expression. “I love you,” you told him. 

Dean leaned down to kiss you fiercely in the middle of the impound lot, cupping your chin. You pulled yourself impossibly closer to him.

He pulled away from hungrily kissing you momentarily. “I would fuck you right now if I could.”

You laughed. “Demon hunting’s what does it for you?”

“Watching you demon hunt does it for me,” he said. “The way you held your own against Henriksen? Damn.”

You pulled his lips back down to yours but pulled away after a quick kiss. Dean’s lips chased yours, but you turned and started walking forward. 

“(Y/N),” he groaned.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you told Dean’s car as you approached it. You helped Dean pack his duffel bag with various weapons quickly until you caught sight of black smoke hurrying toward you. The lights in the lot flickered, and you smacked Dean’s arm frantically to get him to look. 

Dean immediately pulled you away from the car after shutting and locking it, and the two of you raced back to the station. 

As quickly as you could, you got back in the doors. “They’re coming!” you shouted, slamming the doors behind you and Dean. 

Black smoke hit the window beside Nancy, and she screamed. You grabbed Dean’s and Nancy’s hands and pulled them into the center office with Sam close behind. 

Dean tossed two sawed-off shotguns to you and Sam, and Henriksen looked between the three of you in admiration and confusion. 

Phil, Nancy, and Henriksen had salted the windows while Sam spray-painted devil’s traps on the floor. The building shook as the demons hit what you imagined was the invisible wall keeping them out. 

“Everybody okay?” Sam asked. 

“Define ‘okay’.” That was the first time you’d heard Henriksen’s voice tremble. 

“Alright, everybody needs to put these on,” ordered Dean, handing each person a protection necklace. “They’ll keep you from being possessed. There you go.”

“What about you guys?” Nancy asked.

You pulled down your jeans just enough to reveal the tattoo on your hip while Sam and Dean revealed theirs on their chests. 

“Smart. How long you had those?” Henriksen asked. 

“Not long enough,” Sam replied. 

***

You stayed in the office with Dean and Henriksen while Phil, Sam, and Nancy went to check the perimeter. Henriksen stared sadly at Melvin’s nameplate— the officer he’d killed— and your heart hurt for him. As much of a pain in your ass as Henriksen had been, he had a big heart. 

He then picked up one of the shells you were filling yours and Dean’s guns with. “Shotgun shells full of salt.”

“Whatever works,” Dean shrugged. 

“Fighting off monsters with condiments,” Henriksen said more to himself than you. “So. Turns out demons are real.” He took off his tie and began filling his own gun with the rocksalt shells. 

“FYI, ghosts are real too,” Dean noted. “So are werewolves, vampires, changelings, evil clowns that eat people.”

“Okay then,” the agent nodded. 

Dean smiled. “If it makes you feel better, Bigfoot’s a hoax.”

Henriksen snorted. “It doesn’t. How many demons?”

“Total?” you asked. “No idea. A whole lot, though.”

“You know what my job is?” Henriksen asked. 

“You mean besides locking up the good guys?” Dean smirked. “I have no idea.”

Henriksen began, “My job is boring; it’s frustrating. You work three years for one break, and then maybe you can save... a few people. Maybe. That’s the payoff. I’ve been busting my ass for fifteen years to nail a handful of guys, and all this while, there’s something off in the corner so big. So yeah… sign me up for that big, frosty mug of wasting my damn life.”

“You didn't know,” you told him.

“Now I do.” Henriksen looked thoughtful. “What’s out there? Can you guys beat it? Can you win?”

“Honestly? I think the world’s gonna end bloody,” Dean replied. “But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin’.”

“Plus, you got nothing to go home to but your brother.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dean replied, nodding at you. 

You smiled. 

“So I was right,” Henriksen nodded, smiling lopsidedly. 

“What about you? You rockin’ the white picket fence?” Dean asked Henriksen.

He shook his head. “Empty apartment, string of angry ex-wives.”

“Well, if there’s anything this one’s proven to me,” Dean nodded toward you again, “it’s that there’s someone for everybody.”

“Look at you getting sappy,” you said. “Imagine that.”

Dean smirked and clicked the barrel of the shotgun back into place. 

Suddenly, you heard a crash. You grabbed your gun and ran out into the lobby. 

A woman had broken in, but you couldn’t quite see who it was around Sam. 

“How do we kill her?” Henriksen asked, stepping up beside Sam.

“We don’t.” Sam lowered Henriksen’s rifle, informing you exactly who had gotten in. 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, god.”

“She’s a demon,” Henriksen replied, confused. 

“She’s here to help us,” Sam replied. 

“Are you kidding?” Phil piped up.

“Are you gonna let me out?” Ruby asked. 

Henriksen looked to you, confused. You just shook your head in exasperation.

Sam scratched the ground to let Ruby out of the devil’s trap. 

“And they say chivalry’s dead,” she remarked. “Does anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here.”

“Show off,” you murmured.

Dean smirked. 

Ruby walked past you into the main office, and you, Dean, and Henriksen followed closely. 

“How many are out there?’ you asked. 

“Thirty at least,” she replied. “That’s so far.”

“Oh, good,” Dean snarked. “Thirty! Thirty hit men, all gunning for us.”

“Who sent them?” you asked. 

Ruby looked to Sam, who stood in the doorway. “You didn’t tell them? Oh, I’m surprised.”

“Tell us what?” you asked, cutting your eyes at Sam.

“There’s a big new up and comer. Real pied piper,” she explained. 

“Who is he?” Dean questioned. 

“Not ‘he’. Her,” Ruby answered. “Her name is Lilith.”

You laughed, immediately recognizing the name. “Like, from Isaiah? That Lilith?”

Ruby nodded. “Look at you, sparky. You almost impress me. She really, really wants Sam’s intestines on a stick. ‘Cause she sees him as competition.”

Dean turned his attention to Sam. “You knew about this?” Sam didn’t answer.

“Well, gee, Sam. Is there anything else I should know?!” Dean roared. 

“How about the two of you talk about this later? We’ll need the Colt.”

“About that,” you said to Ruby. 

She looked at you in anticipation. “Where is the Colt?”

“It got stolen,” you admitted. 

“I’m sorry. I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands. Fantastic. This is just peachy.”

“Hey, look,” you said. “You’re not my mother. Spare me the reprimanding, okay?”

“Shut up,” she told you. “Fine. Since I don’t see that there’s any other option, there’s one other way I know to get you out of here alive.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked. 

“I know a spell. It’ll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. So, you let the Colt out of your sight, and now, I have to die. So next time, be more careful. How’s that for a dying wish?” she spat. 

“Okay, what do we need to do?” Dean asked. 

“Aw,” she tsked, “you can’t do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue.”

Dean nodded. “I got virtue.”

The demon snickered. “Nice try. You’re not a virgin.”

The older brother laughed. “Nobody’s a virgin.”

Ruby looked at Dean and then at Nancy. 

“No. No way. You’re kidding me, r— You’re…” Dean trailed off under your warning gaze. 

“What? It’s a choice, okay?” Nancy’s cheek blushed, and she looked down to her ballet flats. 

“So, y-you’ve never… Not even once? I mean not even – Wow.” “Dean!” you scolded, lightly smacking the back of his head. 

“So, this spell. What can I do?” Nancy smiled at Ruby.

“You can hold still,” Ruby replied, almost smirking, “while I cut your heart out of your chest.”

“What?!” the woman squeaked. 

“Are you crazy?!” you pushed back. 

“I’m offering a solution,” Ruby said in response. 

“You’re offering to kill somebody,” Dean argued. 

“And what do you think’s gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?”

Henriksen piped up. “We’re gonna protect her. That’s what.”

“Very noble,” Ruby scoffed. 

“Excuse me!” Nancy politely interjected. 

“Guys—” you tried, having heard Nancy trying to speak. 

“You’re all gonna die. Look. This is the only way,” Ruby continued, talking over you. 

“Would everybody please shut up?!” Nancy yelled. She turned her attention to Ruby. “All the people out there… will it save them?”

Ruby nodded. “It’ll blow the demons out of their bodies. So if their bodies are okay… yeah.”

Nancy paused thoughtfully. “I’ll do it.” The room erupted into a string of “hell, no”s.

“We don’t have a choice,” Ruby argued. 

“Yeah, well, your choice is not a choice,” Dean asserted. 

“Sam, you know I’m right,” Ruby tried, but the younger brother wouldn’t look at her. 

Dean smiled, thinking Sam would agree with him. “Sam? What the hell is going on?”

“Sam,” you urged. “C’mon, man.”

“It’s my decision,” Nancy tried. 

“Damn straight, cherry pie,” Ruby commented. 

“Stop! Stop! Nobody kill any virgins. Sam, I need to talk to you. (Y/N), you, too.” Dean led you and Sam out into the hallway. “Please tell me you’re not actually considering this. We’re talking about holding down a girl and cutting out her heart.”

“And we’re also talking about thirty people out there, Dean. Innocent people who are all gonna die, along with everyone in here,” Sam responded. 

“It doesn’t mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans. I’m not gonna let that demon kill some nice, sweet, innocent girl, who hasn’t even been laid. I mean, look, if that’s how you win wars, then I don’t want to win,” Dean stated. 

“Then what? What do we do, Dean?” Sam pushed. 

Dean turned away, and the wheels in your head turned. “Wait, I have an idea,” you announced. “It’s, uh, a stupid one, but it beats killing a virgin.”

“How stupid?” Sam asked. 

“Like, Dean-level stupid,” you answered. 

“I’m standing right here,” Dean said. 

“I’m kidding. You’re very smart when you wanna be.” You patted his shoulder softly.

“Okay, so, what’s the plan?” Sam questioned.

“Open the doors,” you said. “Let ‘em all in, and we go to town.”

***

You stood near the main entrance waiting for Dean to give the “all clear.” Ruby left moments ago through the doors you stood near, and it gave you a clear view of just how many demons lay ahead of you. 

Nancy and Phil waited on the roof with bags of salt to lock the demons in the station with you to carry out your fabulously idiotic plan. 

“All set?” Dean called to you. 

A string of “Ready!” came from you, Sam, and Henriksen. 

“Let’s do this,” called Dean. 

You broke the salt lines and devil’s trap protecting the doors in front of you. You threw the outside doors open, and suddenly, a demon appeared from above to kick his feet at you. You shot at the demon while you scrambled backward to try and scramble into the office. 

You stumbled toward the audio room, shooting shot after shot over your hurt shoulder. You met Henriksen inside, providing him cover while he waited for the symbol from Dean. 

Your shotgun clicked, having run out of shots, and you chuckled the gun at the snarling demon in front of you. 

“Henriksen, now!” Dean yelled, much to your relief. 

Henriksen turned it on while you wrestled with the demon in front of you, and the demon shoved you to the ground. He had your discarded shotgun pressed to your throat as the beginnings of the exorcism you had recorded played over the station’s radio system. 

The demons screamed horribly as your voice carried over the loudspeakers, and the demon above you rolled off, allowing you to breathe once more. As the exorcism finished, you struggled to get to your feet. You checked on Henriksen behind you, who’d also had a tussle with a demon, and he sighed in relief. 

You stumbled out of the audio room with Henriksen in tow, and you found the boys making their way out of the office.

After stepping over the collapsed, formerly possessed people scattered across the floor, Dean tucked you into his side as you took in the scene around you. You wiped blood off your lip and laughed in relief. You put your arm around Sam, and the three of you stayed there silently for a moment. 

***

You bid goodbye to Henriksen, Nancy, and Phil, and the FBI agent had said he’d kill you, Dean, and Sam in his report back to the Bureau. Despite how rocky your relationship with the man had been, you were grateful for the way it’d ended. 

Now, in your motel room, you packed up, and Ruby appeared at the door. 

“Turn on the news,” she ordered, walking into the room. 

You did so.

“The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff, including sheriff Melvin Dodd, deputy Phil Amici, and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents, identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen.”

Your hand flew to your mouth in horror.

“Three fugitives in custody were also killed. We’ll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim.”

Ruby turned off the television and looked at the three of you with an “I-told-you-so” look.

“Fuck you, Ruby,” you huffed. 

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” she responded. 

“Must’ve happened right after we left,” said Sam. 

Ruby tossed hex bags to you and the brothers. “Considering the size of the blast, smart money’s on Lilith.”

“What’s in these?” you asked.

“Something that’ll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail… for the time being, at least.”

You nodded to her in thanks, and Sam thanked her audibly. 

“Don’t thank me,” she scoffed. “Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin, plus a half a dozen other people. So after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out, your plan was the one with the body count. Do you know how to run a battle? You strike fast, and you don’t leave any survivors. So no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time, we go with my plan.” With that, she left. 

Your head dropped in exasperation, and Dean reached over to grab your hand. He squeezed tightly, and you and the Winchesters sat in silence for a long while. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[missmarveledsblog]

hey i see you write for the walking dead and was wondering if you could do negan x reader like the whole " only soft for her thing" ?

ask and you shall receive nonny !!!

Different ( Negan smith x Reader)

Summary : while taking supplies negan decide he wants something a little different ... different in the form of Y/N a smart mouth and stubborn woman

Warning: its a negan fic do i need to give a warning as it should be warning enough 18+ slight soft negan

Sun bright in the sky , clouds clear barely would think the world fell as he looked around  watching his trucks filling up  with many things he didn’t but it was the pure fact of wanting . Sure negan knew he was going to get us of it somehow give some of the shit to the wives keep the gals happy , stop their bitching and moaning  or tears for some reason not understanding it was the best . but apart of him tired  of the harem he made  , it was more of a power play getting people to bend to his will anyway he wanted like now taking shit he didn’t need but fuck was it fun  .  the smug shit eating grin and mood high as the sky only for the sound of a body hitting the ground turning to see one of his men hitting the ground and young woman standing over him ready to kick the man again ignoring the fearless kill happy leader approaching or his men’s gun aimed in her direction . 

“Touch me again and i’ll cut your balls and feed em to you” she spat  feeling something spikey skimming her shoulder as she turned grabbing the bat in her hand ignoring the sting of the prongs cutting into her flesh . 

“ and what gives you the right to harm one of my men?”  watching interest not moving the bat from her hold , taking her in  from the little worn down sneakers to the equally worn out dress on her perfect little body .  “ we take what ever we want darling those the rules” 

“ i don’t care what your arrangement is , he can take anything but the moment he puts his hand on me i will knock him on his ass” she shrugged taking her hand off the bat . 

“Did you grab her ass?” he looked down at his man , a sniveling little prick . 

“  he did and now he’s on the ground so either do your bat happy swing or shoot me because honestly over it , if not i will be on my way “ she went to walk off only for the guns click  not that it stopped her . 

“ i’ll take someone for her treatment although shoot this fuck “ he called as a bullet hit the man before he could even plead for his life then his eyes stopped on maggie , one who was still mourning her love and pregnant with his child .  “ i’ll take her “ he smirked as his men went to grab her only for a click of a gun at his head . 

“ y/n stop “ rick growled as negan turned a glint in his eyes.

“ take me  or i’ll drop you where you stand “ she finally said as Carl stood forward telling her to stop . 

“ what would stop me from smashing those beautiful brains all over the ground  “ . 

“ the bullet that will go in yours ,  so it either me or  nothing “ she easily shrugged as they all stood quiet knowing it was too late , she was stubborn but shit she would die happily to protect her friends. 

“ you got a deal darling “ he chuckled . 

“ i’m keeping my weapons “ was all she said, turning to go to the van  shooting a teary eyed maggie a wink and kissing a carl on top of his head. 

“ you don need ta do this “ daryl glared at the men before his eyes soften on her. 

“ don’t worry Dixon, I'll have him returning  me after a week “ she winked  and a chuckle fell from her lips and a small smirk on his own face . they all watched pained expression as she got in the truck . 

“ well i hate to keep a lady wait … who’s got that truck “ he called as simon stood forward already handing him the keys .  “ great seeing you all we should do this more often “ he chuckled heading to the truck  her face turning to her group as she yell out of the window “ don’t worry “ .  With that they watched the truck driving off and negan smiling like he won  the jackpot . 

The truck ride back was quiet , her eyes locked firmly out the window as confident and cocky her demeanor was she was scared it not like she didn’t  know who he was . she was there that night like her friend repulsed and filled with grief as they watched their beloved friend die horrendously .  she knew what kind of man that she was sat next to and if it meant her friends were safe she didn’t care what was to come of her even if meant she was scared .  she heard the story  of the savors and they way they treated their people or the group of women that were forced to be the cruel sadistic leader’s wives .  She knew her fate the moment she step foot in that truck and she would do it all again no matter what was to happen . 

“ you got balls bigger ones than grimes princess i’ll give you that, a mouth on you too “ he chuckled as she rolled her eyes . “ silent treatment now  awh that’s a shame sweetheart i though we were bonding here ” he mocked sadness  almost watching and waiting for her reaction . 

“ balls and a mouth i think i was the wrong one to take … i’m not judging each to their own “ she gave him tight lipped smile .

 “ holes a hole darling “ he winked. 

“ come near any of my holes and i’ll cut it off “ 

“  i doubt you would honey let be real little boys back there wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you but i do “ he almost purred . 

“ so this is how leia felt when she was taken by jabba “ she huffed out only to hear a booming laugh from her captor . 

“ how the fuck do you know star wars “ he chuckled . 

“ because  world fell to shit when i was  sixteen not six “ she rolled her eyes. 

“ ah the nerd turn hot chick cliche “ 

“ let me guess your the middle aged man living out some sort of compensation era, “ she shot back, noticing how quiet he went. “ what was it working a nine to five while everyone stepped on you so now you think fuck it won’t let that happen again “  only to hear the click of a gun .

“ shut your mouth or i’ll drive back and line them up one by one and make you watch “ he spat . 

“ get your gun out of my face or i’ll blow the thing that makes you a man off”  the click of her own gun aimed at the crown jewels .

“ your a twisted little fuck huh ?” a shit eating grin on his lips as he pulled his gun back . something about this one he liked a little too much . 

“ pot meet kettle “ she yawned ,  pulling her gun to her side, laying her head against the window  and dozing off. 

Pulling into his commune , he could see them all looking at her , curious eyes trying to catch a peak at the new comer as he and his men pulled up beside her . simon at the ready to come pull her from the truck only for him to stay standing open mouthed as their fearless leader went to the door and gently lifted her up and carried her to his personal quarters , he wasn’t the only one who looked shocked  , each man looking at each other . 

“ get me some clothes that will fit her bring them to my room “ he muttered to the women  who look plain depressed and terrified all in one . setting off he carried her in  and up the stair walking down the hall and placing her in own personal room   and placing her softly on the bed . looking down at her sleeping figure something about this one was different , something about this one was all his .   He couldn’t explain it or may he could and was ignoring it or embracing it to quickly  shaking his head and turning to his door knowing he had shit to do .

“ i’ll be back later “ he said, almost gently making her stir but remain asleep  , a smile on his lips as he headed out the door taking one more look at her sleeping on his bed , where she was meant to be and where she was staying from now on . 

  The room was dark when she sat up groaning , confused as fuck . it wasn’t because it was a strange place but the fact it wasn’t a cell or something similar , it was fact the bed was warm and comfy  that confused her . she expected to walk up on a cold floor or tattered mattress. Standing she looked around the space taking it all in seeing her knife and gun on bedside table was also surprising to see her wish respected the whole thing was nothing as she expected .  the click in the door ok that was something at least as three  women walked in one holding a bundle of clothes and the other two had  a tray  of food . 

“ put them down and get out “ the booming voice called out as they flinched  and left without so much as a look in her direction. Negan stood at the door as while she continue to look around the room pretending he wasn’t there, like his presence didn’t nor would it bother her. 

 “ sit” 

“ excuse me “ she turned arching her brow. “ since when am i fucking dog” she crossed her arms. 

“ since your acting like a bitch “ he chuckled .  “ sit down and lets eat “ he  nodded his head to the trays . 

“ is it posioned ?” she asked wondering what the fuck was going on . 

“  nope look “ he grabbed forkful off each plate . 

“ well suck to be you i like poison” she muttered heading sitting in the chair across from him  hating how good it looked  and suppressing the moan of how it tasted as she let it sit on her tongue . 

“ you can change after dinner” 

“ oh can i, too kind and what if i don’t like the clothes “ she mused . 

“ feel free to go in your birthday suit actually i fully encourage that one “ he winked . 

“ pig “ 

“ bitch “ 

“ why all of this? where is this room? “ she asked curiously killed the cat the moment her eyes opened . 

“ my room princess  like it “ he wiggled his brows . 

“ i’m not being part of this harem you got that ? “ she scoffed . 

“ the harem as you call its been disbanded or downgraded plus even at that they never came here” he said easily . 

“ what are they concubines now cause i’m not being part of that either “ .

“ more maids now “ he shrugged. 

“ what do i expect to sleep in same bed as you ?” 

“ sleep on fucking floor for all i care” 

“ you left me with weapons what’s from stopping me from killing you in your fucking sleep “ 

“ we both know you wont princess , look you haven’t  threatened my cock and balls in ten minutes progress already “ he chuckled  , hating herself for the little laugh that came out . 

“ i want my things” she finally said . “ if you're keeping me here i have things i want that mean alot to me”

“ already got them “ . 

“ you went back and got my things” 

“  grimes told me you’d want them when i went back to warn them not to come for you or i kill them all slowly “ . 

“ why me ?” she finally asked the burning question . 

“ because baby you're different”

let me know if anyone wants more parts !!

[flojocabron]

04/12/24: It's been a long and busy day! So now I have a chance to show some Switch stuff that finally came in. I ordered from videogamesplus over a month ago. Since it was a pre-order, nothing shipped out until the item arrived. So that Ys game delayed the rest. I'm too lazy and tired to give you the dollar to Canadian exchange. But the Ys reprint was less than what other online retailers had it for. And Gal Gun I wanted another on switch since I have them on Vita and ps4 already. And the last one was just to get it high enough for free shipping. Yay for stuff!

[dragonagitator]

House MD fans: You wake up in the PPTH ER in summer 2004. What you doing?

Scenario parameters:

All your memories of the show and the past 20 years are intact.

You are stuck there/then and cannot return to our universe/year.

You have nothing but the hospital gown on your back.

Questions:

So, what do you do?

How much would you tell House?

How would you get him to believe you?

Who else would you tell?

How much would you tell them?

Inspiration:

The author self-insert isekai fanfic "Intervention" by VivatRex (aka @acrownforaking). They've been writing it for the past 11+ years and are still updating. It's already nearly 300k words long despite only being up to the events of S02E15. I AM IN AWE.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this scenario ever since I read that fanfic a month ago. I'd love to discuss it with other House MD fans and hear what you would do.

(Apologies to the mutuals for the abrupt blog topic change. A new brainrot has taken hold.)

My short answer:

My long answers are below the cut.

So, what do you do?

My primary objective would be to enlist House in averting the pandemic.

My reasoning: If anyone can nip it in the bud before it gets out of Wuhan, I figure that a world-renowned genius doctor who is an infectious diseases specialist, speaks Mandarin, and now has a 15-year head start would have the best chance.

Difficulty level: Babysitting a narcissistic manchild with the self-preservation instincts of a toddler until the year 2020 so that he makes it there then alive, out of prison, and with his sanity, medical license, and professional reputation intact. To quote Quantum Leap, "Ohhhhhh boooooooy."

Strategy: I'm in the "I could fix him, but whatever's wrong with him is way funnier" camp, so I wouldn't try to change him (that always backfires anyway). Instead, I'd try to change his circumstances:

A stable romantic relationship would help, so I'd seduce him if I can (I'm not his type but a gal's gotta shoot her shot), try to get him together with Dominika earlier if I can't, and tell him how horribly his relationship with Cuddy ended so he knows better than to even start it.

Avert the shooting. Moriaty was a patient so his info is in the PPTH files. I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS. Or for a less murdery approach, try to get him arrested in April 2006 for violating New Jersey's strict gun laws.

Warn House about Tritter so he can switch patients with another clinic doctor.

Warn House to never get on a bus with Amber.

Tell Kutner I'm from the future and he's the only one who can prevent something horrible from happening (he's a Trekkie so he'll want to believe), then unfurl my big timeline poster and point at the "Kutner suicide early 2009" stickynote and ask him "so what's up with that, dude?"

Tell Wilson everything I can remember about his cancer -- he's an oncologist and thus can work backwards from there to figure out when to start checking for it so he can cut the tumor out while it's still just a tiny baby.

I would take a harm reduction approach to House's drug use, e.g., suggest that he try microdosing psilocybin and extend his liver's lifespan by substituting cannabis for some of his Vicodin and alcohol consumption.

Methods: Even though he doesn't have one for most of the show, House mentions a few times that he's entitled to hire an assistant, and I happen to be excellent at administrative work.

I think he'd be willing to hire me because working as his executive assistant / department secretary would position me to recognize patients as they come in so that I can discreetly pass along anything I remember, e.g., the kindergarten teacher has pork worms in her brain, ask the scientist in Antarctica to show you her feet, etc.

Meanwhile, I could lurk around the hospital preventing miscellaneous shit, e.g., get the gift shop volunteer from S01E04 to go home sick, ensure that the gunman from S05E09 is promptly admitted, diagnosed, and treated before he snaps and takes hostages, etc.

Possible sidequests:

Use my foreknowlege to get rich by milking online poker bonuses until the passage of the UIGEA in 2006, use my poker money to start flipping houses until 2007, get in on the "Big Short" in 2008, and set a Google Alert for "Bitcoin" so I can start mining/buying it from day one. Unfortunately, I haven't paid enough attention to individual stocks to play the market other than knowing that Amazon would be a good long-term buy & hold.

Use my riches to change the outcome of the 2016 election and try to steer the development of the internet and society in general in a slightly less stupid direction.

Send Pete Carroll a letter postdated just before the 2013 Superbowl telling him the outcome, then suggest for the final play of the 2014 Superbowl that the Seahawks try handing the ball off to Marshawn Lynch instead of throwing it because that throw will be intercepted. PRIORITIES.

How much would you tell House? How would you get him to believe you?

Your story about being from the future of an alternate universe in which House and everyone he knows are characters on a fictional TV show is already too batshit crazy to believe even without his kneejerk "everybody lies" skepticism. How would you differentiate yourself from all the patients who pull crazy stunts to try to get him to take their case?

My answer: For the "from the future" part, I'm hoping there's some sort of test that House could run to confirm that I was indeed vaccinated with a mRNA vaccine against the COVID-19/SARS-COV-2 virus. Given that neither of those things existed in 2004, that would be physical evidence that I'm not from around here now.

If producing physical evidence isn't possible, then I know that Vegetative State Guy from S03E15 is already a patient at PPTH because he'd been there for 10 years, so I'd find him and tell House about his son. I could also tell House enough about the cases from the first few episodes that I'm pretty sure he'd believe me by Christmas. I want in on Chinese food with Wilson.

I would wait until House accepted the "from the future" part before broaching the "fictional TV show" issue. Until then, "I watched a TV show about your life and cases" is a 100% true statement and it's not my fault if he assumes that show was a documentary. :)

Once he believed me, I'd tell him everything.

Who else would you tell? How much would you tell them?

There are people out there who would literally kill for your knowledge of the future, so going public or being too open about it seems highly risky.

My answer: I'd tell House, Wilson, and Chase right away. Kutner but not before Jan 2009. Maybe eventually Cuddy and the rest of the Diagnostics team if keeping my foreknowledge of the future from them proves too difficult.

House is the only one who gets to know everything. Everyone else is on a "need to know" basis.

I might also bring Bill Arnello (the brother/lawyer of the mob informant in S01E15 "Mob Rules") into the circle of trust because he could be a very useful resource for some of my sidequests, e.g., changing the outcome of the 2016 election far far far in advance and in the most direct way possible. (Hi, Secret Service! This is a purely hypothetical discussion about time travel and not at all indicative of any real criminal intent, pls do not pay me a visit, kthxbai.)

I think the only people I would tell the "fictional TV show" part to would be House, Wilson, and Chase, because there are things I need to warn them about that definitely wouldn't have been in a documentary. Like Chase needs to know that killing Diballa is 100% the right thing to do but he seriously needs to work on his OpSec. Everyone else gets the implied documentary lie of omission.

If I get caught knowing too much by random patients, I'll just claim to be psychic. Way more people believe in that than would believe in time travel.

What would you do?

[carionto]

I like to think the humans ambassador hides black powder weapons around their office instead of Lazer guns or plasma, just walks about with 2 hidden flintlock pistols

You sir or madam or otherwise have given me the biggest grin with that idea, thank you.

(me from after having written it out) I did not know where this idea would take me, stream of consciousness writing will do that.

----------------------

Every delegate of every integrated species aboard a Coalition governing station in their respective segment of the Galaxy receives full accommodations in the form of an isolated embassy structure.

One day, as per a Human custom, the main delegate - Ambassador Glenn York, invited several other delegates on a tour of his embassy. With some hesitation from a few due to their prey-like ancestry and associated cultural background, but ultimately won over by the Human's eager friendliness, they embarked on this little cultural exchange.

It was a little difficult to move about, as each embassy is adapted to suit the environmental preferences of the respective species, and Humans live on a high gravity and dense atmosphere world, so much so in fact, some of the less physically suitable delegates had to put on an exoskeleton, while many others required a breathing apparatus to thin out the poisonous air.

Once we were underway, Glenn showed us that the Humans were diligent in their work - acquiring information from and learning about all the various species within the Coalition, establishing communication lines with the respective counterparts in the disparately varied local government structures, and most importantly continually updating the translation modules.

In addition, we admired their art they had installed along the barren walls. Most, Glenn explained, was done by the delegates and their staff themselves during free time, and it ranged from tiny contraptions painstakingly assembled within a minuscule glass container (we did not realize they could hone their dexterity to such a precise degree!) to large murals covering an entire wall with the most vivid color and shape combinations one could imagine; from the very clear and obvious to impossibly abstract! Though the music they had to turn down - the vibrations of the thick atmosphere were beginning to overload the dampening systems and one of the delegates almost passed out.

Near the end of the tour, Glenn invited us into his office to show off what his "hobby" is:

"The boys and gals I work with are all talented people, but none of them appreciate the kind of craftsmanship I prefer. It's kind of a ancient art form, you see, high maintenance too, very delicate."

He pulls out a pair of ancient looking projectile weapons, at least judging by the shape, but none of us can quite grasp, aside from the trigger, how it operates. We are all silent as he pours some sort of fine grain from a small bag into the upturned tube then drops a small metal ball and proceeds to jam it further in with a cloth and stick.

"I handcrafted these myself. Sure, I could get a printer to do it and it'd be perfect, but perfection just ain't right when it comes to work of the soul, amirite? I find it therapeutic, to mold the shape, heat the iron, cast the shape, smooth the edges, straighten the barrel, carve the grip, roll the bullets, grind the powder... just..."

He lets out a long sigh of relief? satisfaction? euphoria? as he gazes with great affection at the pair of devices in his hands. We feel the urge to end the tour. Like. Right now. But Glenn insists on a demonstration. We hesitantly follow him to a largely empty room below where he sets up a couple of small wooden block on a pedestal. As he points one of the devices and is about to pull the trigger, he stops, looks back at us and says:

"Almost forgot, you'll want to take a few more steps back and turn your dampeners to max."

Heeding his advice, we do so, and after he appears satisfied with our... safety?... he returns his gaze to the wooden block and pulls the trigger.

[cacophony]

We awaken after a short while, the sturdier of our fellow delegates say the rest of us were out for just a few moments, but the ringing reverberation of the shockwave through the Human atmosphere still resonates throughout our bodies. Glenn, worry in his eyes, is apologizing profusely:

"Oh I am so sorry, I didn't think you'd still react so poorly. Is anyone hurt? I even put in less gunpowder than normal, but I guess that's still too potent. I--I'll file an official apology and compensate for any damages I may have caused to any of you. I will take full responsibility for this incident. Please do not think poorly of us as a whole due to the willfulness of one individual, it was never my intention to inflict any injury on anyone."

---Later---

After a thorough medical examination, it was determined that only a few delegates suffered a minor case of shock, which was alleviated rapidly at their respective medical stations. Ambassador Glenn York was reprimanded and sent back to Earth, a replacement will arrive shortly. The one permanent remnant of the incident is the wooden block that was struck by Glenn's pistol - now put on a small display in one of the inner rooms of the Human embassy. The bullet still embedded half-way and the splinters it shot out arranged in a chaotic manner, befitting an explosion, down in front.

[chick-with-wifi]

Meta: Root's message for Shaw

In 4x05, Root says, "if the worst comes to pass, if you could give Shaw a message?" when she believes she will die in the fight against Martine. Although we don't hear the exact wording of this message, the context and Finch's reply of "I think she already knows", tell us it is a declaration of love.

Then in 5x13 when the Machine is fading, She tells Shaw, "There's something I think Root had wanted to say to you. You always thought there was something wrong with you because you don't feel things the way other people do. But she always felt that was what made you beautiful. She wanted you to know that if you were a shape, you were a straight line. An arrow." 

During their time together, Root's flirting consists of exaggerated innuendo to push Shaw's buttons ("I'll do yours if you do mine" in 3x23, "I love it when you play doctor" in 3x17), and in return Shaw pushes Root's buttons by aggressively pretending she doesn't care about Root ("I missed you like I'd miss an intestinal parasite" in 3x20, "I wouldn't want anything to happen…to the dog" in 4x10). Root never disrupts the delicate balance of this dance, never asks Shaw for more than she's willing to give or demands any confirmation of her feelings, beyond light teasing such as "and is that why you came to see me?" in 4x07.

But in the event of her death, she wants Shaw to know the true extent of her feelings. Given that she always intended it to be this way, this means the message isn't for her benefit - it's for Shaw's. She wants Shaw to know beyond a shadow of doubt that Root loved and understood her for exactly who she is, and has no expectations for what her grieving process should look like. She doesn't want Shaw to ever feel like she isn't enough.

A variation of this also appears in 4x11. In one of the Machine's simulations, Root calls Shaw while knowing she doesn't have long left and it is the only time we see her push for any sort of confirmation about their relationship. She says, "Why are you so afraid to talk about your feelings? [...] We're perfect for each other. You're gonna figure that out someday." and is elated with Shaw's reply that "maybe someday [...] we can talk about it."

Since the Machine is able to accurately predict Her assets and knows Root's final request well enough to carry it out in 5x13, She knows this is the one situation where Root would push the issue enough to make it clear that she loves Shaw and that she would be thrilled with any degree of confirmation Shaw chooses to give.

Their conversation in the real timeline begins in exactly the same way, with Root in a dire situation calling Shaw to say, "Hey, sweetie. You busy?". Shaw replies, "A little. Skip the verbal foreplay, Root. Why are you calling?" and Root says, "Can't a couple of gals take a little break from work to catch up?". However, at this point Shaw arrives in the stock exchange and the team's chance of survival increases considerably.

The rest of their conversation plays out similarly, but is toned down. Root says, "We're so good at this together. You're gonna realize that someday." Where the simulation began with Root asking a direct question about Shaw's feelings, this is an open statement that doesn't put any pressure on Shaw to respond.

Shaw replies, "Root, no offense. You're hot, you're good with a gun. Those are two qualities I greatly admire. But you and me together would be like a four-alarm fire in an oil refinery." Just like how Root in the simulation was happy with Shaw's response, she cheerily replies, "Sounds cozy." Since at this moment her life is no longer in immediate danger, she doesn't feel the need to say anything further.

[atrueneutral]

May - June - July ( Fallout TV Show - Lucy x The Ghoul)

AO3 Link

---

Sex.

It was nice - the few times she’d had it.

It started with messing around with her cousin, which in the initial days included shy fumbling, apologies, and a lot of trial and error. Lucy was grateful for those experiences (as awkward as they were), for she always intended to use what she learned to make her wedding night unforgettable for her husband - whoever that turned out to be.

Who her husband ‘turned out to be’ was a no-good raider.

Who was now dead.

Drowned in a barrel of pickle juice.

All that aside - the sex was nice! Lucy didn’t at all feel any awkwardness in jumping his bones, and her husband, Monty, was very eager to get the show on the road (in more ways than one, now that she thought about it). His penis had been an average length with a decent width, but, most importantly, Monty knew how to use it.

So well in fact that, in the heat of riding on top of him, she’d fleetingly wondered how often he experimented with a cousin in Vault 32.

Anyways, with the combination of her hand and the wonderful usage of her good-for-nothing husband’s penis, Lucy orgasmed three times. Each orgasm had been toe-curling and back arching with waves of pleasure that coursed through her body, and each celebrated her spouse by having the name ‘Monty’ leave her lips. At the end of it, for Monty’s release, he’d pulled out of her and ejaculated onto her stomach with closed eyes and her name nowhere to be heard.

Hardly romantic for the consummation of their marriage, but it was fine! Overall, a very satisfying endeavor for husband and wife both that left them sweating in their shared bed, silently contemplating their life together. Lucy thought of little else outside of a wholesome future that involved raising children, scheduled meal plans, making her husband happy, and more sex.

Meanwhile, her husband thought of little else outside of how to kill her and the rest of Vault 33.

It’s fine; her husband got his comeuppance, was rightfully dead and was nothing but a rotting corpse partially smelling of pickle juice.

What wasn’t fine was the wholesome future she’d envisioned; there would be no raising children in the vault because Lucy wasn’t in the Vault any longer (and she had no idea when or if she would return); there was hardly a meal to be found in the wasteland; her happiness was shot at the reveal of who her father was and is, what he’d done and -

Deep breaths.

“You good back there?”

“Yep! Fine and good!” Lucy replied, giving the back of her associate a cheery smile as they traipsed through the desecrated remains of an outlet mall. At the Ghoul’s discretion, one of the stores was to be their campsite for the evening, and it would be swell if whatever-store-chosen was already emptied of people; Lucy wasn’t in the greatest mental state for a firefight, and she wished to not spend another night covered in blood and guts.

Being a glass half-full kinda gal, at least she still had her blood and guts - thanks to the Ghoul’s perception, his exceptional gun-slinging skills and his ability to save her butt as she continued to acclimate to the violent and unpredictable world she was now a part of.

On paper, there was a lot to not like about the Ghoul; he avoided telling her his real name, he was prickly at the best of times and insulting at the worst of times, conversation tended to lead to debates, and he never offered anything in the way of personal information - even after she unloaded her entire life’s story upon him. To be fair, he didn’t ask to hear it, she just… felt like talking, and there was a lot of dead air to fill as they trailed after her “stuck-pig” of a father.

But, though he was a cold, hard wheeler and dealer, Lucy liked the Ghoul. She found him alluring - handsome, even. It didn’t matter that his skin was taut and burned to disfigurement by radiation - or that his nose was missing and his teeth yellowed. The remnants of a handsome man were there, and the remnants of a good man were there, too - somewhere hidden in the depths of his eyes.

She was sure of it.

Which made her feel better about wanting to jump his bones.

Lucy would be the first to admit that she was sexually frustrated, but it wasn’t as if she was to the point of throwing herself at everyone who was anyone (which would be a very stupid thing to do out in the Wasteland). The last time she’d felt this amount of pent up horniness was with Maximus in Vault 4, and that hadn’t gone well. Maximus’s bewilderment at her proposition wasn’t unsurprising (she did kind of unexpectedly throw it out there), but his inexperience and lack of knowledge in the sexual side of the birds and the bees became blatantly apparent by time he recited the myths he’d heard.

Especially that myth about a man’s orgasm.

The Ghoul had experience in a plethora of departments - more importantly, the department she was looking for, or so she presumed. She wouldn’t risk ridicule by asking if he knew that the head of a penis wouldn’t explode upon ejaculation; the man had a family at one point (which included procreation), and he likely partook in a handful of sexual liaisons within his two hundred years of still-standing (assuming his penis remained intact - a question she would never dare ask, no matter how bold she was feeling).

She supposed her interest sparked one of the few times he’d said her name. He’d said it in admonishment, chiding her for trying to hold onto the ethics instilled in her by her Vault - the ethics that kept her from sneaking behind an armed raider and cutting his throat. To make a poor point, the Ghoul ended up shooting him in the back instead, leading to a firefight that led to him confidently taking out four raiders without breaking a sweat (if ghouls even sweat) and led to her needing a stimpak after an encounter with a woman on Psycho.

“Could have been done the easy way, Lucy.”

Said in that slow drawl of his and said whilst staring down at her from within the cast shadow of his wide brim hat, the chill he elicited down her spine wasn’t the bad kind. Lucy played the sound and image of him on repeat as she laid in her bedroll in the following nights; she could imagine him over her, threatening to teach her another lesson of the Wasteland with the same knife he wanted her to use against the unsuspecting man he’d blown to bits. Every night, the fantasy progressed into the Ghoul drawing the knife down her vault suit, slicing through the dirtied undershirt underneath, cutting open her bra to reveal her breasts… her name on his lips…

And every night Lucy’s arousal reminded her of how badly she wanted sex.

“Look alive, Vaultie,” the Ghoul said from over his shoulder. His shotgun was locked and loaded in his hands as he stalked towards the blown out glass door of a two storied department store. “We’ll clear out this here store and hold up for the night.”

“Roger that!” Lucy replied, getting her pistol ready. “Dogmeat and I are right behind you!”

It was a win in her book that no one needed to be shot, or stabbed, or blown apart with grenades; both levels were devoid of any activity aside from their own careful clearing of sections, aisles, and backrooms.

The place was a mess - as was natural when anything and everything (aka the entire world) was a mess. The aesthetic of ruin persisted wherever they went. Looting had long purged any remotely useful item from the shelves, and what was left for the pickings were broken toys, upended furniture pieces, other random household goods, and clothing that was mostly nothing but scraps of fabric that barely held onto their hangers.

It was determined by the Ghoul that they would station themselves on the upper level with a strategic view of the escalators and stairwell entrance. A minute later, and the Ghoul was halfway down the unmoving steps of the escalator, hollering the command that Lucy set up their makeshift camp - he’d be back after a bit of exploring the other stores and, if need be, clear them out of any lingering occupants alongside Dogmeat.

Having been left to her own her own devices, Lucy began by dumping her pack and clearing a decent sized space for her bedroll, and she was thoughtful enough to set up a makeshift bedroll for the Ghoul that was made from remnants of a few comforters she’d seen in aisle 42. She next neatly laid out their rations for the evening: some banana yucca fruit that looked… okay to eat, some mystery jerky she wanted to leave a mystery, and a tin of absolutely-irradiated Cram.

Her stomach became queasy the longer she looked at the offerings, and, hoping to distract herself from thinking about perfectly normal Jell-O salad, Lucy decided on embarking on a more thorough exploration of the department store.

She started with the nearest section; a showcase of the latest and greatest home appliance models of the time. Introducing her to the department was a life sized advertisement depicting a wooden cutout of a housewife who elegantly showed off an equally wooden, ‘clean’ button up shirt - having just removed it from the bent, rusted dryer she stood beside. The woman’s smile might have been white-toothed and embellished with a radiant sparkle - were everything above her shoulders not hacked off to leave splintered ends.

As Lucy leisurely strolled down the aisles, it became a game to pretend she was shopping for a new washer and dryer. She mentally checkmarked what she liked and disliked about each model (price included), and at the end of the section, she eventually had an entire list of theoretical appliances she’d go home and excitedly tell her non-existent (and not-smelling-of-pickles) husband about.

The following sections weren’t as fun to peruse; items not made of enamel and steel weren’t nearly as indestructible, therefore Lucy quickly lost interest in scrutinizing scrap. Thankfully, a new interest unfurled in wanting to learn more about the lives of those who came before - what belongings had they left behind, and what stories could she piece together?

Forcing a spring in her step (it’s better to be optimistic), she headed down to the first level and beelined for the break room she last examined with a pistol at the ready.

It was, luckily, still empty.

She walked over to the radio and switched it on - only to switch it back off when nothing but white noise came through. She opened the cabinets to find nothing of note, and she eyeballed the Nuka-Cola vending machines that, of course, had nothing in them but broken glass.

Nothing.

Lucy sighed - unsure of what it was she was hoping to find.

A broken door in the corner revealed a staff locker room meant for the storage of personal items, and she breezed in with the intent of opening every locker she could.

Nothing…

Nothing…

Nothing…

Of the ten lockers, nine held nothing, but the tenth and final locker seemed promising - only because it was locked.

Feeling excitement, Lucy reached into a leather pouch attached to her belt for her trusty screwdriver and bobby pin. She crouched down beside the locker, carefully inserted the pin into the keyhole, and began to meticulously pick the lock - a skill she was developing a penchant for.

A minute of concentration later, the combination lock clicked open. A proud smile split her face as Lucy put away her toolset, and she held her breath in foolish anticipation for the revelation of what was hidden inside the locker.

Probably nothing, but her finger pulled up on the latch and pulled the door open to reveal-

Her mouth parted in astonishment.

It was precisely the kind of treasure she was hoping to find.

It was perfect!

Of course, it wasn’t entirely perfect; the calendar was a little worse for wear, but the color remained rich despite time and the pin-up suggestively posing on the page for the month of October was beautiful in her black and orange themed bikini, dark lips, and exaggerated expression. The witch hat she wore was tilted on a head of curls, and she sat atop a large grinning pumpkin looking very alluring and very cheeky.

Lucy slid the calendar away from the magnet that held it to the door, and she eagerly flipped through each page from January to December. Every woman was delightfully dressed themed to the month, and she was enchanted by their beauty, spunk, and sexiness.

During her third flip through, and by the month of May (perhaps her favorite of the pin-ups), an idea began to take root in her head - a profoundly crazy idea that could very well lead to her being as headless as the wooden woman on display in ‘Appliances’.

An idea that she, Lucy MacLean, would seduce the Ghoul with a little help from May, June, and July. [Part II]

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #1: Steer

Tires thudded over the curb. The engine backfired. Bullets clanked against the frame. And Dugald was driving like his life depended on it.

He had never expected to be put behind the wheel, honestly. At least- Not in the first few days of knowing the driver. Or the car. It felt impersonal, you know? You didn’t drive someone else’s car until they trusted you with it or they were dead. And neither were particularly applicable right now- But he supposed the latter might happen if he didn’t make the next turn. The Thorton skipped over another curb, the side scraped against a wall, the owner hollered her complaint over the sound of returning gunfire. He white knuckled the steering wheel. Another bullet ricocheted off the frame. Another was sent in return. He looked in the rearview mirror. Scavs. It had to be scavs. One clear memory in his head- of a few, at least- and it was in a high speed chase that he could remember how he felt about scavs. Probably not an uncommon feeling towards them. I mean, who could like butchers who’d sell you for every bit of metal you have in you- right down to the fillings in your teeth? He thumped over another curb as he swung the truck around into an alleyway. Honestly it wasn’t surprising that his only memories of them were negative. The sound of the mirrors scraping against brick and metal was just as evocative of their chop shops as the actual sound of them screaming behind them. How much was he worth? Hell, how much was this gal worth? Between the two of them they probably had a pretty decent score. At least he had a feeling the car wasn’t what they were after.

The car groaned, same as him, as he swung it wide around the corner and back onto the road. Potholes thumped the suspension as he pointed the nose towards the distant promise of an easier time, an easier escape- The only highway ramp not currently blocked by NCPD or some Maelstrom popup… Gathering. Gathering was the best way to put it, he thought. Really the only problem with all the thoughts before, of course, as he stomped on the pedal and listened to the automatic transmission whine in horror at what he was making it do- Well. This thing wasn’t exactly going to go zero to sixty fast enough to escape the scavs’ slipshod dragsters. Whether from shitty parts, old age, or factory limiters- “WALKER-” She dropped back down into the passenger seat as a grenade soared past the car and landed in a heap of garbage. It exploded as he swerved around it- much to her and the car’s complaint- and he felt another backfire take them down a gear. The look she gave him was wild, frenzied even, and frankly he didn’t appreciate the unspoken complaints about his driving. Not his fault he wasn’t carrying any guns at the moment. Not his fault that the car couldn’t go above sixty and take corners without screaming in agony. What had she been doing to this thing? Or, rather, hadn’t been doing? It’s not his fault that he couldn’t make it go faster. Not…

He looked in the rear view. They were getting closer. The Thorton was blowing smoke. Slowing down. If he could get on the highway it still wouldn’t be fast enough in the straightaways to get out of their territory. He was pretty sure they were about to blow a tire, too, to make it all that much more palatable. They’d be able to catch them in a heartbeat. It’s a Thorton. He stared in the rearview.

Chop shops. Metal. Chrome. Thortons. He looked down at the steering wheel. It was a Thorton. Scavs weren’t after the car- In a fit of memory-induced insanity-

Dugald gripped the console with both hands, his fingers slipping into grooves meant for technician tools. Augmented hands and arms would have to do for the moment as he groaned… and tore the module right off and into his lap. Within the same second, in a memory as rote as blood flowing from a wound, his arm slipped open in all but the same way to expose a monofilament blade that sprung cleanly from his forearm and out under his palm. And then he jammed it straight into the ECU plug. Sparks flew. Chop shop. Metal. Chrome. It was a Thorton. The only difference between any damned model of the thing was the limiter the factory put on it and the armor the customer slapped on it. Limiters could be removed. Engines could be tuned. Not in real time, no, never in real time. Not for anyone sane at least. Not for anyone who wasn’t currently being shot at and thoroughly invested in staying as alive as possible for the next 30 minutes- give or take a few. Oh but that’s what he remembered. The Scavs. The chop shops. Oh he remembered it all.

It was right as they hit the ramp that the Thorton screamed- no, roared- to life like a truck of its caliber likely never had before. The volume of if deafening, the rattling of it frightening, the speed of it exhilarating; and all the while Dugald stared dead at the the road while his arms twitched in time with the engine’s pistons. From zero to sixty. Sixty to one hundred. One hundred to one hundred twenty. Pretty sure they just put some sports cars to shame. Jerking the car between what few other drivers were still out on this side of the city. It was easy enough to tell when they weren’t being followed anymore. The fireball of a collision not even a quarter mile behind them. But he kept it going. Taking highway turns like they were hairpins, taking ramps like they were jumps, throwing the Thorton down the highway like a rocket that might just explode if he stopped it. He didn’t check on the state of his passenger. The speed would shut her up for now. His driving would shut her up for the next hour after that.

It wasn’t until they were out of the city lights that he finally let it slow back down to a crawl. Or, rather, that the car finally gave up. No amount of coaxing- no amount of manual control, really- could get it back to speed. She was tired. So was he. …Aaand he was being yelled at.

He leaned back in the seat as he retracted the blade back into his arm. He didn’t bother listening.