#types of scaffolding

[metrials]

What is Scaffolding? Types in Scaffolding -BuildersMART

What is Scaffolding Parts of Scaffolding, Scaffolding Types like Single Scaffolding, Double Scaffolding, Suspended Scaffolding, Trestle Scaffolding and Cantilever Scaffolding.

For more information please visit our site

[acornered]

NPC doodles for the campaign I'm running.

[mxrtified777]

the pain of the 24/7 nonstop music listener and character enthusiast combo. ive needed to draw something to express how my brain has associated Eau D'bedroom Dancing by Le Tigre with Nevin Jovel for twooooo months count em up thats nearly 8 weeks. 60 days. where i listen to my walmart in winter playlist and think of him but i just Cannot Fucking Draw It . to show my ideations to the masses. because of the curse.

[thistledropkick]

I translated the first ever interview with Young Lion Mikami Kyosuke, published on New Japan’s website, from March 8, 2010.

Hit by Hansen’s bull rope and awakened to pro wrestling! A quick interview with anticipated newcomer Mikami Kyosuke

The Act Tower Tournament was held in Hamamatsu on March 7th. There, a newcomer made his long anticipated debut against Taguchi Ryusuke.

His name is Mikami Kyosuke. Influenced by pro wrestling since childhood, he joined the prestigious Senshu University’s wrestling club in order to become a professional wrestler. We managed to catch Mikami for an interview before his match! In this first-ever interview, we talked to him about his current state of mind, his passion, and information about himself.

- Your debut match was decided rather abruptly, wasn’t it?

M: Yes. I was told five days ago. And I’m still about to b*rf (from stress.) I thought “Well, I’m debuting after Fale” (laughs) (Fale Simi Taitoko = a trainee from the same class / debuted in April)

- Mikami, please tell us about your background.

M: I did judo and amateur wrestling, and then entered Senshu University on a wrestling sports recommendation from Nigata prefecture’s Maki Agricultural High school (now Maki Sougou High School)

- That’s a famous college with a prestigious connection to pro wrestling, right?

M: Our coach was Hase Hiroshi (ex pro wrestler, current Lower House member) and Nakanishi (Manabu) would watch over our training sessions as well. Hirasawa (Mitsuhide) was a third year student there when I was a first year. But, I dropped out……

- Excuse me for asking, but why did you drop out?

M: Because I didn’t go to class. I was an economics major but I don’t have any interest in economics (laughs). I originally wanted to do pro wrestling, which is why I originally started amateur wrestling in the first place.

- So, after that?

M: I tried to enroll with New Japan Pro Wrestling, but my application didn’t make it past the initial screening. My dad scolded me, saying “What’re you gonna do about your student debt, you bastard!” and I thought “This is really bad” as I moved back to my hometown. 

I owe my dad a large amount of money to pay off my student loan. So after that, I worked construction for about a year, and then for about four years I was a freeter working at restaurants, at a beach resort, a pachinko parlor, and so on. But then in May of 2009, the (New Japan Pro Wrestling dojo) admission test rules changed, and the height restriction was removed. Hirasawa said “Hey, what’re you gonna do? You gonna go for it?” and I submitted the application one more time.

- And in June 23rd of 2009, you became a student. Were you always a pro wrestling fan?

M: Yeah. Due to my dad’s influence, I always was. When I was still in preschool, I got hit by Stan Hansen’s bull rope at an All Japan show, and my pro wrestling awakening began. All Japan, New Japan, FMW, I loved ‘em all.

- Did you tell anyone about your debut?

M: My parents and my local friends. And later I told my friends on GREE [Note from me: GREE is a gaming social media ap, so this is kind of like telling your Steam friends or something] I told them, "I'm gonna be in a match." The reactions from everyone were pretty intense. Because I hadn't told anyone I was a trainee at New Japan. I only told everyone once the company officially announced it and posted my name on the website. As you might expect, my mother is worried about me. But my grandma, who loves pro wrestling, said “YEAH, GO GET EM!” (laughs)

- What is your special move?

M: I’m just debuting right now, I don’t have a special move yet (laughs) But, since I’ve been doing amateur wrestling for so long, I think I’ll concentrate on a single leg, double leg, and tackle.

- And your “sales point” is?

M: I’ve got a stocky body type, but I’m going for “chubby yet agile.”

- And your rivals are?

M: Right now, the students in the dojo are Fale and Takahashi, and classmates are perfect as rivals. And of course I’m aware of Hirasawa as well.

- What kind of wrestler do you want to be?

M: Most of all, I want to be someone that everyone wants to cheer for. Basically, it’s stupid, but I love attention (laughs) I want to be the kind of pro wrestler that makes the fans yell “DO YOUR BEST!”

- The opponent you want to fight is?

M: There are too many to even name.

- Finally, express your enthusiasm to us in one sentence.

M: Anyway, pleased to meet you all and thank you for your support, I’ll keep working hard and doing my best. Taguchi is IWGP Jr Tag Champion so, having a person like that as my debut opponent is an incredible honor. Anyway, I plan to use the things that he has taught me. Pleased to meet you all, thank you for your support.

[leodanbrock]

"One thing we've never done is to actually make a good live recording in a venue. It's something we've been thinking of since the first tour: is there a good way to actually capture the energy of a good live show? You can film something beautiful, but often it looks a bit corny to us. 'Across the Universe' was our first attempt to capture that energy and we recorded it like pirate material. It's a pair of mics in a venue, so it sound shitty, and everything is saturated, but to us, it really captured what we felt with the energy at the time." — Xavier on recording live shows, from Clash Music interview

[yurislavlcathedral]

anyway, reading a very long document about classification of empires for my college course on asian empires of the premodern world really made me think about hetalia (hear me out) because what exactly are we considering qualifications for the assembly of a personified empire? would the mongolian empire classify as its own single personified entity? or was it the case like the USSR in the context of hetalia canon where they were simply the smaller nations bonded into a larger international organization? What about empires of the ancient world before formal modern nations were developed? Why was the Roman empire a single entity? What about smaller nations within it? Where is the line drawn?

[headspace-hotel]

Notes on Torturing The Character In The Science Facility

my takes on this trope rarely if ever have anything to do with the character being "special" or being studied for powers they innately have, if they are special its something that was done to them

it's about the medical trauma

it's about the violation and lack of bodily autonomy

the "living weapon" trope, but the key characteristic is catastrophic functionality

i love, love, love the concept of "catastrophic functionality" in a person: character that can tank ludicrous amounts of damage and just Keep Going in virtually all circumstances barring outright dismemberment. They can keep going, so do they "deserve" rest and/or pain relief?

after a lifetime of having their distress treated as whiny and unreasonable, they have what would be a dangerously high tolerance to pain and exhaustion.

another key function of the Science Facility is to fix the damage Character takes, maybe using enhanced healing technologies or 3D printed organs or something. this leads to Character's body being treated as relatively disposable cause "we can just fix them"

extreme version of this: Character can't die even if they wanted to

people who work with Character are informed that they're dangerous and arbitrarily violent, and their fear of Character makes it easier to justify restricting autonomy

It is TRUE, cause Character does not have tools to set boundaries or protect their body other than violence. vicious cycle of being perceived as dangerous and therefore denied autonomy, and being forced to use violence to defend autonomy

the restraints used to hold Character look like major overkill, which underscores how dangerous they are. LOVE this trope

character being desexualized to the point that their non-consent to touch, to being stripped down and examined, or to procedures is trivialized. There is no non-clinical context for their body, and the "clinical" framework eclipses any possibility for bodily violation to be understood as violent.

types of uncanniness: Character looks human but has some subtle inhuman traits or characteristics. (I'm obsessed with reflective eye shine, personally.) OR Character looks like they've been taken apart and put back together, like flesh pulled over a much more unforgiving and indestructible metal scaffold. OR Character gives off "undead" vibes; they're just not quite alive in a way that sets off air raid sirens in people's brains

Often, Character is dead and Came Back Wrong (varying levels of literalness)

anyways yeah. i never stopped writing this trope and probably never will. it's a good one

[tianjinwellmadescaffold]

320mm Scaffold Planks Manufacturing Video - Wellmade China - Ringlock S...

[equalonline]

What You Must Know About Choosing The Right Ladder

Most people, in and out of the trade, use different types of aluminum ladders on a daily basis. For households it can be a step ladder to reach higher shelves, changing the bulb, or even changing smoke detector batteries.

For the DIY projects typically embrace extended reaches. It can be as easy as splitting a panel (I would like my arms were longer) to assembling an elevated deck. Here, the necessity for various ladder types exists, depending on the work on hand.

For the professional, it’s a ladder collection like Step, extension, and multi-purpose ladders are all required. In some cases, scaffolds and pump jacks match the bill. Therefore here may be a primer on the criteria once choosing a ladder.

Types of Ladder

This may seem to be such a basic question, however different ladders are designed to securely guide you through different project types. Finding and choosing the correct ladder is your first step (pun intended) to obtaining the correct tool for the work.

Some basic types embrace household ladder, industrial ladder, multipurpose ladder and scaffolding ladder, telescopic ladder (a must-have specialty item that saves professionals on Occupational Safety and Health Administration fines). The list will prolong with specialty ladders like attic ladders, step stools, rolling ladders as well as accessories that create your ladder do more.

First, let’s take a glance at the four most common ladder types:

Household Ladder

Have you shifted to your new home recently? From cleansing up the spider net on the ceiling, fixing the bulb or changing the curtains, a ladder is required to do some basic work at home. Imagine not having a ladder for home; going to those zones would be such a frightening task. Explore EQUAL household Ladder to search out a perfect ladder to fit your needs.

Many people have a basic step ladder or a ladder reception to induce the essential jobs done, wherever a little bit of extra height would facilitate. Our ladder must be helpful for doing all such ménage work with ease.

Industrial Ladder

The industrial ladder is the strongest sort of ladder that you can buy. These types of ladders are designed for onsite use and are designed to be in use perpetually. An industrial ladder is a superb alternative for the one that has to work on-site constantly.

EQUAL industrial ladders follow the EN131 standard for safety and build with T5 grade aluminum. EN131 is the most important certification for any ladder because it is that the sole way to make sure that the ladder meets the security requirement for trade and domestic use.

Multipurpose Ladder

A multipurpose ladder is a must for any tradesperson – multi-functional, economical and infrequently cost-efficient, they’re one amongst the top items of kit we suggest. Any ladder than may be accustomed to accomplish the tasks of 2 or more kinds of the ladder is taken into account multi-purpose.

Scaffolding Ladder

Scaffolding Ladder allows you to store the tool more expeditiously while also adding the flexibility of adjusting the peak as required. Different variations of this tool are straight, or hole ladders, which are the only section wherever a collection length is used over and over (think library ladders for the employment of one-height needed)

Extension rung locks take the bulk of the abuse on this ladder-type and may contribute to early failure. Some corporations are using advanced polymers to strengthen this key part. Polymers have replaced steel and aluminium in several applications nowadays, together with cars and trucks.

Telescopic Ladder

This aluminum telescopic ladder has been designed to telescope and retract succinctly, making it easy to store and maintain around the home. The extension is simple to use, and additionally, the retraction is usually created with a lock at the foot, that closes the ladder with a no-pinch system. It has been manufactured to a trade normal which will be used by each industrial contractor and for at-home projects. The Extension & Climb ladder may be a wise and easier-to-use solution to chunky ladders. This ladder is lightweight and durable as a result it has been designed especially for simple transportation.

It features an integrated carrying handle that produces transport and storage even easier. The telescoping ladder has been designed to be time-saving and easy to use. It features applied science designs and lockup tabs for safe and secure use. That’s why it's nice for each house or business. It’s manufactured from aircraft-grade aluminum alloy for strength and sturdiness. This ladder is definite to look at you through every job or task you've got at home or work.

The main advantage of telescopic ladder is the simple fact they can be simply stored. The sleek style means they can be slotted right down to a size smaller than a deck chair, creating them excellent for putting in the rear of a work van, a small storage cupboard or a shed.

We have designed our telescopic ladders to be as compact as doable, we have a tendency to additionally put in Associate in the nursing anti-pinch system to safeguard your fingers. All of our telescopic ladders are created from aluminum which means they are terribly light-weight, this makes them glorious for transporting, domestic use, industrial use, and for a great deal of. The aluminum does not simply make the telescopic ladders durable and lightweight, they additionally mean they need a rust-resistant surface.

Ladder Height

That’s right; there are two factors to think about while selecting the correct ladder. However, they’re calculated depends on the kind of ladder that you are using.

Step ladders would come with the length of the ladder once open likewise as a maximum height you wish to reach, calculated for an average person’s height of 5’9” with a vertical reach of 12”.

So if you recognize how high you wish to reach, let’s say 10’, you would doubtless purchase a 6’ step ladder permitting you to safely stand virtually 4’ on top of the ground.

Selecting a ladder height is a combination of Step ladder size, approximate highest standing level, and maximum reach.

Extension ladders have a number of different concerns. Here, the utmost operating ladder length and highest standing level come in to play, based on similar physical characteristics of the individual delineate above.

Since there's a user-defined angle of use on a ladder, an overlap of the sections and also the projection of the ladder on top of the lean point, selecting the correct product here could be a bit trickier.

Weight Capacity

Most of the house users do not need a heavy duty ladder. Professionals, in distinction, need to ensure the ladder they use will support them and their tools. This can be all simply resolved by knowing what duty ratings really are.

Duty rating is a class assigned to an aluminium ladder. It’s a way to simply tell how much total weight a ladder can bear in each of its steps without any risk. It’s written in Roman Numerals going from lighter loads to heavier ones. They begin at III and head to I, then adding IA and IAA for even heavier loads.

Remember that these ratings include all of the load the ladder can support. Some individuals make the mistake of mounting a ladder because they’re below the assigned weight limit, not pondering the serious tools they’re carrying.

Here’s a duty rating reference chart:

TYPE IAA – 375 lbs. Load Capacity | Professional Use | Extra Heavy Duty | Suitable for MRO and Industrial construction

TYPE IA – 300 lbs. Load Capacity | Professional Use | Heavy Duty Use | Suitable for Roofing, Building Maintenance

TYPE I - 250 lbs. Load Capacity | Industrial Use | Heavy Duty Use | Suitable for Building Maintenance, Sheetrock

TYPE II – 225 lbs. Load Capacity | Commercial Use | Medium Duty | Light commercial and General Repair | Painting & Cleaning and Household Usability

TYPE III – 200 lbs. Load Capacity | Household Use | Light Duty | Light Cleaning and Painting

Weight Capacity

EQUAL ladders make all types including step, extension, multipurpose, scaffolding, and telescopic using the aluminum material. Here are some features of aluminum:

Lightweight

Long-lasting Construction

Resists Corrosion

Ideal for Painting, Roofing, and Siding

They are not suited to use near electricity, as they are conductive, and doing so may cause accidents

At the end of the day, choosing the correct ladder starts with thinking about what kind of job you’re going to be using it for. Then ensure you’ve taken all of the previous steps to confirm your product won't underperform, or, on the opposite hand, you’ll purchase a ladder with features that you simply won’t ever be using or plain previous overspending thanks to a lack of knowledge.

Interesting Facts About Ladder

Ladders are one of the oldest and widely used devices that change us to achieve high places and points safely. Despite its presence, though, not many of us apprehend a lot regarding it and sometimes take it and its safe use for granted.

It is assumed that ladders have been in use since the Mesolithic era, about 10,000 years ago.

Falling off a ladder is the most common injury a person can suffer from while climbing a ladder.

There are more than 21 types of rigid ladders available in the market.

John H. Balsley invented the first folding stepladder in 1892.

Aluminum is the most common material used in the manufacturing ladder.

Thanks for reading this. We are the leading manufacturer of aluminum ladders, platform trolleys, and weighing scales. If you have any questions, let us know. 

[scaffoldsonline]

Step Ladder

ASCEND ACCESS SYSTEM SCAFFOLDING established in the year 2006 as a manufacturer of all types of aluminum scaffolding and DIY (Do-it-yourself) or industrial ladder. We have largest inventory in the business, manufactured by trained professionals who understand the customer needs while maintaining quality standards and work regulations. As a trusted brand in the growing business, we export our products across Middle-East, Africa, Turkey, and Russia."

[upaboveroofing]

A scaffolding structure provides strong, formidable support to the workers in a construction project. The entire structure plays a major role in providing easy access to greater heights. As a result, constructing buildings becomes much more efficient and takes less time.

[seaofspirits]

i swear, eventually i'll get proper about pages set up... there is just A Lot when it comes to characters like azure and river

[knittinglizards]

my primary idea/plan/desperate hope for Thing to do after quitting is doing part-time groundskeeping/maintenance for one of the local parks for several reasons including that if i'm outside the majority of the time (and not near crowds) i Wouldn't need to mask (the majority of the time) at work

[grsscaffolding]

various Types scaffolding materials are used in construction. Steel scaffolding offers strength, aluminum is lightweight and corrosion-resistant, wooden provides a traditional touch. At GRS Scaffolding, India's top manufacturer and supplier, we offer a wide range of high-quality scaffolding materials to meet the unique demands of every project, making us the preferred choice for construction professionals across the country.

[mangooes]

Dodge a Bullet, sweetie.

The warehouse was already on fire by the time Sylus stepped out of the shadows, blood mist curling around his boots like loyal snakes. His crimson eyes glinted in the flickering light, face cut in a perfect balance of boredom and annoyance.

“Didn’t even bother sending the big dogs, huh?” he muttered, cracking his neck.

“Sylus, focus,” (Name)’s voice came through the coms—sharp, concerned, and absolutely bossy. “You’ve got six on the roof, three behind the shipment crates, and someone’s trying to snipe from the scaffolding up north. Take a left and—”

He sidestepped without looking, a bullet grazing past his cheek before he effortlessly sent a black-red energy tendril to yeet the sniper off their perch with a bone-crunching crash.

“Left enough for you, sweetie?”

“Yes, but stop flirting and move, they’re circling you from behind—!”

Another quick shift of mist. Sylus twirled, and three men were disarmed—literally—and flung into metal containers like ragdolls. He exhaled a bored breath, flicking blood off his fingertips as if swatting away dust.

“Sylus!” His wife hissed again. “You’re toying with them—stop being cocky and just wipe them out!”

“Oh, kitten,” he purred through the coms, walking with an unbothered gait as chaos exploded around him. “You’re too cute when you pretend I’m in danger.”

“You're alone, Sylus. Not even Luke or Kieran with you. I have every right to worry—”

A metal bat swung at his head from behind.

Without looking, Sylus caught it mid-swing, snapped it in two, and kneed the poor fool into unconsciousness.

“Sweetie, I’m not alone,” he said with a grin. “You’re right here in my ear. That’s enough to make me invincible.”

“That’s not how logic works,” She groaned.

“That’s exactly how my logic works. You’re my lucky charm.” He spun gracefully mid-air, kicking two attackers simultaneously before pinning another to the ground with a tendril and stepping on his chest.

“Ugh, I swear, if you die trying to flirt—”

“I’d rather die being loved,” he teased, voice low and smug.

“Sylus.” Her tone darkened.

“Yes, kitten?”

“...Duck.”

He bent just in time as a blade whooshed above his head. “See? You really are my good luck charm.”

More tendrils shot out, a mass of energy and mist that devoured the last few enemies like wolves descending on prey. Within seconds, it was over.

Sylus stood in the center of the wreckage, casually adjusting his cuffs, wiping a spalsh of blood on his cheeks, like he didn’t just obliterate an ambush squadron with nothing but sass and a bloodthirsty aura.

“Dozens of men, full ambush squad, barely a warm-up.” He walked out as flames curled behind him. “Remind me again why I even bothered stretching?”

“Because I made you,” (Name) deadpanned, the sound of her typing something in the background. “You’re reckless without me. Also, I had a bet with myself how long it would take you to flirt mid-fight. I lost. It was literally the first five minutes.”

Sylus chuckled darkly. “Can you blame me? You’re the voice I want to die to… or live with.”

“That line was so bad.”

“And yet you’re still blushing.”

“Am not—”

“Kitten.”

“...Shut up and come home.”

“I’m on my way,” he said with a grin, stepping over unconscious bodies as if he were stepping over puddles. “Save me a kiss or ten. I’ve worked very hard tonight.”

“You flirted your way through a bloodbath.”

“And still managed to make you flustered. That’s talent.”

She didn’t reply, but the soft giggle at the end of the line was all Sylus needed to hear to make his grin stretch wider. He vanished into the night, blood mist trailing behind him like a cloak of shadows, already eager to be home—where the real reward waited.

His wife. His queen. His softest weakness and his greatest strength.

HEYYY ASKJDASNK IM BACK okay anyways i hope i capture sylus's flirty nature well...cuz im so bad at writing one. IM SO EXCITED CUZ TMRW IS HIS BDAY BANNER TRAILER WOHO YES MY BABY BOY'S BDAY ASKJDNASK.

[eupheme]

— Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

Hancock (FO4) x Sole Survivor!F!Reader

Rated E - 5.8k

Tags - 3rd person very loose pov, sole survivor!f!reader (no descriptors), canon-typical raider violence & death, mutual pining, teasing, partners to lovers, two idiots in love, waiting out a storm, mention of food/eating, SS!reader gets dicked down wearing Hancock’s coat, the hat stays on, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, manual restraints, multiple orgasms, PiV, creampie, mention of a cigarette/smoking, references to chems 

started this while doing research for wasteland, baby - and was consumed with thoughts of a slightly softer “oh fuck, I’m in love” Hancock

It’s a dangerous thing - to have feelings for the person you’re traveling with. Too many things can go wrong in an instant and yet…  here they are. Steadfastly ignoring the something that has been building, thick enough to taste. 

Luckily, an incoming rad storm might just be the push they need. 

He’s fucked.

Figuratively, not literally. Unfortunately.

That’s part of the problem, if he could call it that. And he probably shouldn’t - because it’s not her fault. Just his. 

It was a rookie move, falling for his traveling companion. Should have kept it just professional - strictly business. No ‘get to know you’s, no inside jokes. 

But he had never been the professional type. Not his style. 

And somewhere along the way - between getting the shit kicked out of them, the close calls, the long miles of barren road - something had started to grow. Curling around his ribs and filling his guts up like ripe tarberries. 

Letting it grow and flourish. 

Unable to shake it. 

It hadn’t been long before he had known something was up.

That it was something besides that urge to get away from it all, to wander, that kept him sticking with her.

That along the way, the idea of this stranger having his back became comforting. That he knew he had hers - even if he half-thinks she have a death wish, with the way she rushs into things half-cocked.

He can’t understand, but he tries. The bits he’s gleaned from late nights - passing the bottle of whisky back and forth even though it makes her grimace. The pieces of her past that have slowly been revealed, forming a half-completed picture.

It’s enough to make his blood boil, that scorching feeling of vengeance curling in his chest, eating up his insides. It’s been a long time since he felt that way - making him think back to the night where he had stained his hands with all that red. 

He’d do it again, for her. 

It’s that realization made him think that just maybe - he cares.

And not just in a friendly kind of way. 

He thinks it began in the middle of a firefight.

Bullet whizzing past their heads. A nest of raiders flowing out from a jutting wreck of scaffolding they had missed.

Several downed already, lost among the ruins. A souped-up pistol in her hand, as the other shielded shrapnel from a hand-made grenade.

Missing the two that snuck up, flanking them. 

He had taken one down. A nasty shot to the gut, the Raider gurlging as his legs gave out. Her shot going wide - he can still remember the look on her face as she reached for the gun on her back.

The other Raider taking the moment to bowl him over, a padded shoulder to the chest. Knocking them both against a piece of metal fencing that creaked under their weight - his shotgun clattering to the pavement. 

An arm pressed against his throat, choking him - as the other fumbled for a knife. Ironic, he thought, that he’d be gutted, after all he’s done. 

But she had swooped down. Fingers twisted around the barrel and forestock of her rifle. Bringing it down on the raiders head like it was a louisville slugger, snarling like she herself had gone feral.

Her hand, warm in his as she hauled him up, the other splaying across his chest. Face streaked with grease and splattered with blood but in that moment, she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

“Thanks, sunshine.” He had murmured.

Her smile had been small, as she pressed the gun back into his hand, “Can’t have you getting stabbed. I’d miss that mouth of yours.”

Such a small thing - her own joke. The way he filled the space with chatter on the road. But he’d been smitten. 

He had been good looking, before. He wasn’t half-bad now. Charisma could get you a long way, and his silver tongue hadn’t rotted like the rest of him. 

Charming words - flirty and sometimes filthy - slid easily from him in the heat of battle, the wind-down after. When he was feeling good about things, the words coming without thought.

Choking on them, when she turned to give him a look - embarrassed, sometimes. So goddamn cute and flustered, it made him want to do it more. 

Other times - a look, that was soft and lingering. 

“Yeah?” 

Almost a challenge in the way she said it.

He could never follow it up. 

Follow through. 

Because back home, it wasn’t an issue. A rejection meant nothing other than a soft blow to his ego. Brushed off with a hit of a favorite indulgence, finding company in another.

But here - it had a weight. It could ruin something he truly has enjoyed. Throwing in with her had been one of the best decisions he had made. He couldn’t fuck that up. Not this time. 

So he swallowed his words - before she was racing off, and he was following at her heels. Off to trouble that could be their last, and here he was - that clever tongue tied in a knot. 

That’s when he knew that he had it bad. 

Bad enough that out of the two of them, he had been the one peering up at the sky overhead. Where the muted hazy grey was rolling into a sickly green, rain starting to drop down. A rumble of thunder.

The first to suggest stopping at the next place they could, as the spaces between the raindrops started to dwindle.

“We can make it.” She had shrugged, as his jog slowed to a walk.

Catching her arm at the elbow, gesturing with the muzzle of his shotgun to the side.

“Not if you don’t want to end up like me, sister.”

Ignoring - but not missing - the chastising look she shot him. His head tilting towards the roof that looms just over the ridge.

An old diner - rusting chrome and shattered windows, but it would do. Well past soaked by the time they scrambled over the hill and down. Grateful to find that it was abandoned. 

Picked over, for sure - but as long as there was a roof over their heads, he hadn’t cared. Combing through junk was her thing, anyways. He was just the pack mule.

Now - he’s multi-tasking. Trying not to think about what he’s thinking about.

About her changing in the room behind him. Peeling the patchwork raider gear off her curves. All that soft, smooth skin underneath.

Distracting himself by eyeing the radroach that is skittering across the pavement outside the front door - just out of range of his shotgun.

Because of course, out of everything in the wasteland, that was the thing she was scared of. Not super mutants, not even the pack of mirelucks that had them cornered, just the week before. 

A goddamn bug. 

He laughs, a soft hushed thing. Catching himself with a grimace. 

Because, like he said.

He’s fucked. 

The rain that patters overhead would be calming - if it had been 200 years ago, and not dripping with radiation.

She shivers, draping the tattered pants and worn shirt over the back of two rotting, wooden chairs - a makeshift drying rack. Missing that insulated warmth of her Vault Suit, trading it back at Sanctuary for worn clothes - old and salvaged Raider gear.

It had become hard to blend in, in all that blue.

It had made sense at the time, but in the dark and chilly backroom, she finds herself regretting it. Thinking that next time - she’ll pack it with her.

Trying to find the dampest parts of the packed gear to lay out, next. Lining up the bedroll next to the glow of the lantern. 

Don’t need any more must or mold than there already was. 

Pawing through her bag afterwards, coming up with something to pass for dinner. A can of cram, their only good fork wedged between two knuckles. A sweet roll split in two - the sticky crumbs clinging to her fingers as she nudged the door open.

Feeling vulnerable in the faded undergarments she wore underneath. Dreading facing him, not because of what he’ll say - that part, she is actually curious to hear. 

She’d given up on the idea of modesty long ago. Traveling on the road and through the dirt and blood and grime will do that. 

It was almost freeing.

No. It’s because - it makes her hope. Makes her think that dressing down might actually get him to notice her, in a way that’s more than the surface-level, flirty conversation she’s seen him have with dozens of people. 

In the old world, maybe she’d wear a dress for him. Something red and cut low in the front - bare arms and legs.

Now, it’s faded cotton and vulnerability.

A “I can trust you like this” and a “Maybe if you like it, it will make me brave enough to ask.”

Rejection dressed like this would sting, surely. Even if it’s her fault, for having a crush on someone who doesn’t see her that way. 

Her eyes linger on his back, where he stands watch. Where he hadn’t heard her open the door just yet, drifting to the other side of the counter to watch the rumbling, green storm roll in.

The tin clatters on the counter, drawing his attention. A flicker of lightning illuminating his profile as he turns, eyes widening. 

Hancock’s eyes drop automatically. Quickly and then a slow drag - it’s like watching him after she’s taken a hit of Psycho. 

Dark and glittering under her own careful watch, before they’re snapping back up, and he’s blinking. 

Pulling himself back. 

“Is that dinner?” He asks, clearing his throat when the words come out rough and low. 

Her face falls, just for an instant. A small smile replacing it, as she scoops up the tin of cram before tossing it his way. He catches it neatly - popping the lid open, plucking the fork from her fingers. 

She should have known better. 

Hancock was just a flirt, never taking her bait. It was a good thing, she thought. Honorable, despite the grey that’s soaked into both of their moral codes. 

He digs the fork in, breaking off a piece of the preserved meat. Handing the first bite to her, unable to help another quick look as he lowers himself to one of the stools that curves around the diner countertop. 

Not that he hasn’t seen her before. Never quite this bare - but close enough, from the quick times they’ve had to change clothes.

It didn’t mean anything. 

“So uh, what’s with the getup?” Hancock can’t resist asking, his tone deceptively light, “Or should I say, lack thereof?

“Clothes are soaked,” She snorts around the mouthful, trying to sound disinterested, “Besides, you’re always telling me it’s not good to let the rads soak in.”

He’s curious now, catching that slight edge. Not usually so defensive - that expression she makes when she’s flustered. It makes him want to nudge at it, poke at that little crack. 

“Hey, you don’t hear me complain’, sister.” Hancock grins, taking the fork back, “That’s a real good look for you.”

Always a joke. 

Her eyes roll as she sits down on the stool to his left, her knee knocking against his. The halves of sweet roll balanced on the curling, discarded tin, for after. 

They share the makeshift dinner. Passing the fork back and forth, trying not to think about how easy it feels to be like this. 

Companionable silence, beneath the rumbling, dark green sky. Tucked away and sheltered from the storm.

She stares out across the wasteland, lost in thought. Moving on to other things, already planning for the morning. If there’s any stops they need to make on the way back to Sanctuary. 

While his eyes wander - a sideways glance that drifts down her form greedily, only to shift away when her own lift. 

A breeze cuts through the building where windows once lived, making her shiver. Arms moving from the countertop to wrap around a bare middle, curling in on herself.

“You cold, sunshine?” He asks with concern, bringing her back.

She hadn’t noticed, but now she does. The chill starting to sink in, now that she’s not moving, not covered in the layers and padded armor. 

Goosebumps raise on her skin. Arms crossing tighter across her chest, as her lips part to answer.

But Hancock is already shrugging off his maroon frock, swiveling in his seat to swing it around her shoulders. 

She rarely seen him without it. Fuck, he even sleeps in the damn thing - a prized possession, if he ever had one.

“Thanks.” The word is layered with sincerity, as she pulls it close around her, the high collar brushing her cheek. 

Warmer already. The inside is soft against her skin, the fabric worn and stained and smelling like him.

Silence lingers for a moment, as they stare at the darkening sky. The heavy blanket of rain that still patters on the rooftop, a slow drip down to the tile floor on the other side of the room.

"Hope this lets up by morning," She says as she leans, warmer now - elbows pressing into the stained laminate counter.

Eyes out of focus, thoughts already running off without her. "Stop by Sanctuary, pick up some things for Tenpines. Haven't been there in a bit, been wondering how they've been holding up."

He mirrors her - feeling bare without his coat. A heavy lean on his left elbow, the swivel of the chair bumping his knee against hers, "’m sure they're fine. Gotta be better off than they were before."

A smirk crosses his features, a glance from the corner of his eye, "'Sides, not every day you get saved by the fearless leader of the Minutemen. That oughta keep 'em going for a while."

There's a groan as she slumps, the heels of her hands pressing into her eyes. Garvey's enthusiasm and her recent promotion to General a source of embarrassment, even if she bore the weight of it well.

"Yes, the fearless leader," She mocks, her head turning his way. Pushing herself up, her arms spreading wide, "If only they could see me now."

And they might not be able to, but he can.

Not just the soft expanse of her skin, peeking out from beneath his coat. The hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast and the strain of her tits against worn fabric that will be forever seared into his mind.

Not only just that, though. That something that he can see inside her - that was there when he had decided to leave Goodneighbor. That lingers with him, tethering them together as he follows at her side. And yes, he does stretch the truth - who doesn’t? He wouldn’t make half as many deals, otherwise. 

But he’s isn’t, now. 

She is unaware of the thoughts that tumble through his mind, quick as old snapshots. A curling amber film strip, tucked into a canister. 

Instead, there’s a roll of her eyes as her comment of "really, only you could pull this coat off" lands on ears that had been muted, in the way his mind drifts. How the low pooling of warmth in his belly turns sharp and cramps, at the thought of Preston Garvey spending time in such company. Like this - without him.

"I wouldn’t say that." He hears himself saying. Voice a little lower, raspier, than usual.

Maybe it's bravery. Maybe it's him finally seeing her intent - maybe it's the moment where he's realizing that after tonight, she's no longer just his again.

His eyes drag over her again, slower this time. And he lets her catch them.

"From here, things are looking pretty good."

She stills, eyes rounding. A swivel of her chair until knee-to-knee becomes thigh-to-thigh- something akin to hope slipping into her tone.

“Yeah?”

He reaches - fingers tracing the collar of his coat, thumb rubbing against the hollow of her throat.

“I’d say so.” Hancock tells her, “Look like a goddamn dream, if I’m being honest.”

She’s tired of waiting. She’s done enough of it. Eyes on his as her chin tilts up, just hovering.

He’s tired, too.

With a lean, he takes the offering. Ruined lips press against soft ones. Ones that part for him, a soft sound at the greedy dart and swipe of his tongue, until she’s meeting him.

She’s sweet - he can taste the sugar on her tongue, melding with the taste of her. Fingers press against his chest, where his heart hammers. Sliding over lithe shoulders until they’re wrapping around, pulling him closer.

He’s stronger than he looks. The seat squeaks when he leans, his palms tracing her waist, her hips. Tucking beneath her thighs - right against the curve of her ass as Hancock lifts his hips, taking her with him.

She moves, his name a soft sound in her throat. Letting him lead, letting him ease her onto the edge of the counter. A sense of relief and hope floods through her, dripping down to settle warm and wanting between the thighs that spread open so he can step between them. 

His cock swells, where it’s trapped inside his pants. Easing the ache with a roll of his hips, pressing himself against the thin fabric covering her core. The breath she inhales in response is shaky. Another soft sound, so different than the assured tone he’s used to. 

He wants to hear it again.

It’s easy to set the pace - the pointed press of his hips. Her hand finding his, drawing it up to her breast. Letting him cup her, the soft weight. Letting him press his thumb against that tight peak, catch it between his fingers until she’s gasping against his grinning mouth. 

Her mouth drops, catching his chin. The tip of a tongue between parted lips press against his cheek, warmth breath against his jaw making him growl. 

“Please-” She’s murmuring, against his skin. Against muscle and sinew, as his own lips follow.

Fingers biting into his skin, as his teeth graze her jaw. Her head tilting back, baring her throat to him, as her hips rock to meet his. Eyes fluttering shut as her chest heaves, as his other hand curls against the curve of her hip, keeping her close. 

His tongue peeks out, dragging against sweat and rain-dewed skin. A groan rattles in his throat, his own voice distant and rasping.

“Fuck, I need to taste you.” He can feel her moan, against his lips at his words, “Lean back for me, doll.”

She’s soft, pliable. Unwinding herself from him as she obeys, only for those hazy eyes to open - meeting his beetle-black ones. 

“Wait,” She’s protesting, hands slipping to press flat against on his chest. A sudden realization - shoulder curling back so his coat slides off it, “Let me take this off.”

“Leave it.” Hancock’s head lifts to kiss her again, his hand curling around the back of her neck. 

She huffs against his mouth, before it turns into a sigh. His tongue brushing against her lower lip, before she pulls back again.

Not wanting to forget her train of thought.

“What if I make a mess on your coat?”

He groans at that, the hand on her hip drifting lower. Cupping her over the thin piece of fabric, fingers pressing down. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He husks, “I’d fuckin’ love that. Never gonna take it off.”

It makes her scoff, cheeks burning, “You never do, anyways. You-”

He shuts her up with his fingers - tugging at the elastic waistband, pulling them down until she’s bare. Letting her kick them off, before he’s pushing her back against the counter.

Arching over her soft form as his mouth wanders, his hips grinding against hers. Teeth nipping at her throat, lips brushing where her heartbeat flutters. Clever fingers tracing the seam of her sex, brushing over soft lips - teasing. 

She’s so fucking wet, he can feel how his fingers glide over her skin. How it smears on her thighs, as they spread wider for him. 

“What do you want?” 

It makes her sigh - that voice, so low and rasping - and she’s clenching around nothing already.

“You,” She’s unable to help but whine, “Please, you-”

His laugh is rough, a rattling chuckle in his throat, “You have me, sunshine.”

Middle finger parting her, teasing at her entrance, the calloused pad of his thumb circling around the bud of her clit. Sinking into the wet heat as she groans, starting a slow pump of his textured finger.

Pressing deep with a slow thrust. Another, and then another, until she’s taking a second. Stretching her wide, as her fingers twist in his stained shirt. Grasping for his shoulders as her hips buck into his touch. 

“Should say how do you want it?” The kiss he presses against her throat is almost reverent, “Because I don’t think I have it in me to go slow right now.”

“Slow, later.,” She moans, as his fingers press deep, “Need you.”

He grins, “Love how you think, sweetheart.” 

Hancock’s head ducks, moving down to her collarbone, then lower. She’s already reaching to tug the cups of her bra down, baring the curves of her breasts to him.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.” He hums, fingers brushing over the soft weight again, cupping one in his hand. Still fucking her open with the other, curling and stroking until she’s panting. 

Tongue peeking out to flatten, and then drag across the tight peak of her nipple. Her hands grasping for him again, as there’s the briefest pinch of teeth.

“Hancock.” She grits out, a swivel of her hips against his, grinding into his fingers. 

His own rocking against the back of his hand, where he’s hard and aching. Never thinking he’d know what it’s like to have his partner begging like this. 

He wants to hear more. Every little sound she makes, as his mouth moves lower. Licking wet stripes against her stomach and abdomen.

Until he’s plunking down on the padded chrome stool he’s been straddling. Gazing at where she’s wrapped around his glossy fingers. 

Watching how she twitches and bucks and gasps when his thumb swipes across her clit, his name on parted lips again.

“Love hearin’ you say my name like that.” He purrs, “Can’t wait to hear how it sounds when you come.”

Leaning forward, inhaling her scent before his tongue swipes above his fingers. Her hips leave the countertop, the moan loud as he laughs - his other hand pressing flat against her stomach. 

Holding her down, as he teases her again. Short, pointed licks against her throbbing clit. Her cunt is as sweet as her mouth, his own groan caught in his throat as his tongue dips inside her. 

Mourning all the nights he could have spent like this. Spending the time as evening turns to night, then again as night turns to dawn. Drowning in the taste of her instead of clenching his teeth until his jaw aches, as he tries to keep quiet. Dreaming of this. 

He leans back, just enough to press a wet kiss against her clit. The soft suck a sharp contrast with the texture of his rough fingers as he fucks her open. 

She was right - it’s messy. Dripping down the curve of her thighs, the damp stain mixing with others on his weathered coat. 

Everything is so dry, in the wasteland. Dirt roads and dead trees. He relishes in the wet suck of her cunt, how it’s this way right now because of him.

His cheeks hollow, a swirl of his tongue before he’s adding to it. Leaning back to let his spit drip down, his thumb dragging it across the tight bud.

She’s whimpering. It’s been ages since she’s had anyone - the low throb in her belly swiftly building. 

In the before - she thinks she’d be embarrassed to be splayed out like this. Stripped near-bare on the counter of a diner, thighs spread wide as his fingers pump into her aching cunt.

But he eats her like a meal, left hand moving from her belly. Wrapping around a thigh to tug her closer, hiking it over a shoulder.

Groaning into her pussy as his tongue flicks against her clit, smearing slick across his chin. Pressing closer, unhindered by the usual curve of cartilage and flesh as he molds himself against her. 

“Hancock.” His name is a sharp gasp, as she clenches around him. Breath held in her throat as she watched with half-lidded eyes.

Focused on the tight string that winds with each careful curl of his fingers. He slips in a third and she all but sobs, chasing her pleasure with a needy rock of her hips.

Chanting him name as it curls low in her belly.

“Hancock. Hancock-”

And then, the prettiest of all.

“John. Fuck, John, I’m going to come-”

It’s goddamn music to his metaphorical ears. Better than that - better than the sing of gunfire in his favor, of the sweet rush and hum of that first hit of Jet.

He watches through those dark eyes as she falls apart. Her cry loud in the empty diner, as she’s struck - the livewire crackle of her orgasm ripping through her.

Better than she can ever remember. Thighs squeeze around his neck but it only makes him moan - breath hot against her cunt as his fingers continue to pump. And his tongue dips to taste her, slipping between knuckles. 

The pleasure throbs - the stained ceiling spinning, looking like the clouded stars high above them to her hazy mind. 

A disbelieving and dazed laugh caught in her throat as his mouth moves. Pressing against her mound, the sensitive curve where thigh meets hip. 

It’s only then that she’s unhooking her thighs - a heat blazing in her cheeks at the brazenness. Too caught up in the moment to see herself - splayed out across the countertop, heels digging into his spine. 

But she does see him - the need etched across his face under the tip of his hat, the wet shine against his lips and chin. Deadly in a new kind of way, mixing with the prowess he shows on the battlefield.

There’s another low throb, deep inside her. The lithe way he moves, rising - a hand planting next to her hip, the other working the heavy buckle open.

She meets him - pushing herself up. A hand coming to cup him, feeling the hard length that strains against his trousers. Tasting herself on his tongue when her head ducks to kiss him, swallowing his groan as her fingers palm and squeeze. 

“Drivin’ me crazy, sunshine.” His voice is like gravel, as he works at the zipper - her fingers slipping past to wrap around hot skin, “Enough to make a ghoul go feral, you know that?”

Her smile is pretty - pleasure-drunk, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. Her hand soft and warm where she eases him out, the brush of her thumb over the head making his cock throb. 

“Me too. I need you.” She begs, and he knows it’s more than that just that.

That it’s not just fucking, right now. That a line has been crossed, that they’ll never be able to not want this again. More than ready to tumble over into the unknown, together.

“My mouth wasn’t enough?” Hancock grins. Fully intending to have her every way she’ll let him. Unable to resist making her squirm.

The look she gives him makes him chuckle - the gentle pull of her fist, the little frown. The way her thighs spread again, aiming the flushed tip of his cock over slick skin. Against the tight nub of her clit as she shivers, lips parting with a gasp.

“Hancock, don’t tease-” Some of that bite is back, desperate. Not begging but it’s close, as her hips lift against him again. 

“I’ll give you anything you want.” He promises, “Just like hearing you say it. Come on, sweetheart.” 

It’s hard to hold himself back, when she’s notching him against her opening. His hands sliding to her hips, liking the way his fingers sink into her skin.

How it dents around his calloused ones, soft as the rest of her.

“Fuck me.” Her eyes are on his, watching where they drag from his fingers to her pussy. Watching how his chest heaves beneath his vest, where his chest peeks from loosened buttons. 

“I need you in me. I need you to fuck me, I want to come on your cock-”

“Fuck.” He groans, and then his hips are snapping forward. Feeling the tight, warm squeeze as he buries himself in her, as she cries out at the intrusion. 

“Goddamn, sunshine.” He has to hold himself there for a moment, hilted inside her. Feeling the way she clenches down around him, fingers mirroring it where they wrap in his shirt. 

Almost sharing a breath as he inches out, only to press deep again. Again, and then again - until there’s the slick slap, the creak of the floorboards beneath his heavy boots as his feet spread wider. 

It’s better than his fingers. He’s deeper, filling her completely, stealing her breath. Those hands tugging at her hips, urging her to meet each thrust, as he picks up speed.

Hearing the changes in her pretty sounds - the gasps and the scrape of fingernails against his skin. Spearing her on his cock, where she can feel the worn and rough ridges gliding against a spot that has been sighing. 

But, he wants more. Wants her like before - splayed out. At his mercy, in a way that he knows she’d only do for him. Knowing that she trusts him - wondering if he would be worried that the thought makes his cock jerk inside her. 

“Give me your hands.” He rasps - and slowly, her finger uncurl from the edge of the counter, the vice-like grip on his shirt.

Hancock grasps at her wrists, joining them together with one of his own. Pushing her back, dragging them above her head and pressing them down hard against the countertop.

Arching over her as his eyes sweep over soft curves and bare skin. His coat spread out beneath her, the worn red so pretty next to her skin. Better than his best fantasy, and he’s already thinking about a next time. 

The choked out “oh!” she makes with the next rock of his hips shoots straight to his cock - knowing full-well she could break free if she wanted.

Instead, she lets him take. 

Giving up the control as he ruts into her, spearing his cock deep again and again. Trying to meet the messy swipe of his fingertips that drifted down to press against the bundle of nerves - her pleasure in his hands.

“Look good like this, sunshine.” His eyes drag over her breasts, still shining from his tongue.

“Real fuckin’ good.”

Down to where her thighs tighten around his hips, arching into him, “Should keep you like this all the time. Just in my coat. Wear it better than I do.”

A sharp edge to his voice, one that fuels the aching pressure that builds and builds. Her head thunks back against the laminate counter, eyes falling shut. 

The words starting slow, growing louder, then running together. 

“Feels so good-”

“Hancock don’t stop. Oh my god-”

There’s an electricity in the air that has nothing to do with the storm. His hand biting into her wrists so hard that it hurts, but the pain only loops into her mounting pleasure.

It’s different than his dalliances before. 

Before, it had filled his time. Finding someone to spend the night with a couple times a week, enjoying the shared company with another.

That frequency dwindling after they joined up, though he hadn’t been the type to stop. He just no longer had the time, that same desire. 

Finding that he no longer focused on chasing his own pleasure. His interest shifting - until there was only one face that drifts through his mind, in the stolen moments at night when his hand slipped beneath his trousers. 

Embracing the crave of a new kind of addiction, the urge hooking its claws into his brain. 

“Say my name again.” He tells her, feeling his own release winding and tightening. Trying to stave it off, as he tries to think about anything else, “Fuckin’ scream it for me.” 

Her eyes are on his when she says it.

“John.”

First soft, and then pitching up - louder.

And in the moment, he’s just John. The John before and the John now, man and ghoul and so focused on the circle of his fingers, on her cries.

It’s too much - all she can do is lean into it. Never realizing how much she’d like letting go for him, knowing that just like in the Wasteland, he had her. 

Always liking his quips and rasping tone but never experiencing it like this - honey-sweet and hungry. 

Learning so quickly what she likes - how quick he was to adjust the angle, the slick swirl of his fingers.

His name is on her lips again as he brings her over the brink. More like a prayer this time, her body stringing taut beneath him, eyes wide. Mouth rounding on a high gasp as the pleasure shudders through her, radiating up her spine and down her limbs.

Seeming to reach across from where they’re joined, that steady rhythm stuttering as she flutters tight and warm around him. 

“Fuck. Fuck, sunshine. You feel so fucking good, gonna make me come-” His teeth grit, a silent question.

Her answer coming in the way her thighs tighten around him. Keeping him pressed deep inside her, until his thrusts turn short and sloppy. 

“Oh, fuck yes.” His grin is closer to a snarl, “Thank you-” 

His fingers bite into her hip. Her name hissed through clenched teeth as the pressure builds, before spilling over.

As his hips rut until he’s pressed as deep as he can, a choked groan as he comes. His cock twitching with each throb of his orgasm, as he fills her. Emptying himself into her heat - until she’s milked him dry. Until he slows, leaving himself buried, deep and warm.

His eyes drop, as he comes back down. Where she’s watching, just as hungry as he was.

Leaving them staring at each other. His back arched over where his hand has slipped. Loosening on her wrist, until her fingers has twined with his. 

There’s no going back.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs. It’s night - dark now, but the flickering of lightning following the peals of thunder cast green shadows over her body. Eyes drifting up to where the rain patters on the metal roof.

A languid exhale, breathing out the smoke from the cigarette he fished out of the coat pocket. Dangling between two fingers, the cherry gleaming in the dim light. 

Then back down, to where she still rests - beautifully drowsy and limp-limbed. Thighs still parted, where she gleams with him.

He’s certain he’ll be dripping into those clothes of hers for days. 

It does something to him, an interested twitch from his cock. Stepping closer to fit himself back between those thighs, where they close to bracket his hips again. 

“Didn’t you say somethin’ ‘bout slow, later?” Hancock asks, his hand petting down a hip, thumb brushing against her skin. 

Stubbing the rest of his smoke out on the counter, letting it fall to the tile below. 

Her smile is sweet as she pushes herself up. No use leaving while the storm raged on - and she’s pretty sure the bedroll was well on its way to dry by now. 

Fingers catch on the collar of his ruffled shirt, starting to push it from his shoulders. His own hands tugging at her, until he pressed snug against her again. 

“Mm. Is it later, now?” She asks - as more of him is a bared - her hands running across rough skin. 

Hancock grins. 

“I sure as hell hope so.”

I know this dropped out of nowhere for a 9 year old game but I can’t get the mayor out of my mind 💕 thanks for reading!!!