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fishnapple · 5 months ago

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Your successful qualities

Let's find out what qualities do you possess that can make you successful on your chosen path ✨️

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

YELLOW

You have qualities that would make you a person of the people. You have a high level of emotional intelligence and charm that make it easy for you to dive into people's hearts. The chief element that will contribute to your success is how you connect with people. You know how to express your feelings in a calm and soothing way, people feel accepted and nurtured through the interactions with you and your presence. You care a lot about other's comfort. You intuitively understand what the other person wants without them having to voice it out. This is especially helpful when you are assigned a task or when you assign a task to other people. You know how to complete the task in the way that the other person wants and you also know what the other person is capable of, what is their working style, so you can give them suitable task and instruction. You also have the ability to pacify and harmonise difficult situations. Which are qualities that are very much needed when dealing with customers or working in employee relations. But if you're not careful, people's dependency and over demanding could be a problem. Dealing constantly with people's problems can drain your energy really fast. Also, when there are many people expecting something from you, a desire to please, to be helpful and perfect in your job, can become a burden for you. The downside of being in tune with others is that you're entangled with them, it would be hard to act independently.

What makes you popular with people is not just your aura or your caring and pleasant nature. It's also your communication skills. You have the gift of the gab, striking a balance between being funny and wise. Your humour can diffuse tense situations and your knowledge and wisdom can guide you through the intricate system of socialising, never appearing too jesting nor too serious. You can grasp abstract concepts easily and then explain them back in a simple to understand way, this ability will make you a great teacher or a supervisor or someone who needs to present their ideas to a mass. You also can turn those ideas into reality, ideas don't just stay in your head, you pull them out and mould them into solid existences. When you encounter new information or foreign topics, you don't shy away from them but revel in the process of analysing, understanding and absorbing that information. So new job, new position, new opportunities don't faze you, your adaptability is one of your biggest talents.

What can make you successful is your drive for success, it's very simple. As long as you have the desire to succeed in anything you do, you can achieve it, with patience, diligence but also a flash of genius. You are an innovative pioneer, you follow your own rules, and this will attract people and opportunities to you.

BLACK

This may sound corny but it's your heart and passion. As you can see in the picture above, the "heart" bead landed right next to the "sun" bead at the centre. It's just that simple. Your heart shines so brightly that it can attract success. The more you're in alignment with yourself, the better the chance for you to shine and soar. Self alignment can mean various things, self awareness, self compassion, self expansion, all the things that make you become clearer about yourself. In doing so, you can understand your strengths and weaknesses with an objective lens, develop a healthy ego to navigate the world and stand up for yourself, utilise your potentials fully and have a better vision of what you want out of your life (this sounds like an ad for self improvement program)

You being you, truthfully, unapologetically, without any shadow nor hiding, will make everything you strive for easier to grasp. Right now, you might have some fears about expressing yourself fully, showing your creative side, which is precious and a huge treasure. You don't want to be an outcast, being labelled as weird or individualistic. You might have a perfectionist living inside you, constantly criticising and questioning your every move and attempt at doing something creative. Maybe you don't feel confident enough, still thinking that you lack skills or you look at other people and see them getting busy and successful, you begin to doubt your resolution and your ability, no amount of practice is enough in your eyes. This line of thinking is really detrimental to your growth. Looking at other people for inspiration is fine but it can become an obsession, taking other's success as goals to achieve, while ignoring your own brilliance. There's something you need to know, that you don't have to be applauded by a crowd to prove that you're talented and worthy. You will find that, by being yourself and sharing your creativity, slowly and surely, there will be people who appreciate your work, even if they are not the mainstream crowd.

On the subject of the crowd, this group has a bit of similarity with the first group, in the ability to connect with people. But unlike group one, who uses their charm and verbal ability to harmonise and attract people, yours is more about your ability to get into the hearts of other people, through your sensitivity and kindness. This group's soul is like one of the artists. Beauty moves your heart, you see beauty in everything, down to their core, this kind of ardent appreciation will spread to your surroundings, the people around you. It's like you have a subconscious ability to beautify everything, making things softer, more tender, more kind. Don't hide this part of yours, the more you're willing to be transparent and spiritually "naked", the more joy and success will come into your life, for you will be the pure vessel that the universe will pour into endlessly.

GREEN

The quality that stands out the most is your ability to accept and commit to changes, whether those changes are about yourself, your environment, or other outside factors. It's not that you actively seek chaos or transformation just for the sake of shaking things up, but when changes come to you, you don't cower and complain, you accept them and try to find the best possible solution to deal with them, no matter how scared and uncomfortable you feel inside. It's this kind of courage that will help you sail through the ups and downs in life without being sunken and defeated by them.

When you feel afraid or anxious, uneasy in your mind, you actively try to find a solution, a different route of thinking to get out of that unproductive thinking mode. Sometimes you would even seek the very things that make you afraid, to learn more about them, to gain an understanding and to broaden your perspective. When your heart feels weak, you still believe in a better future. In doing so, you attract luck to your side. You would find that whenever you're in a difficult situation, if you keep your faith and your mind open, new understanding and support will come your way, helping you regain stability and inner peace again. Your heart is resilient, even though it might have suffered painful wounds in the past, it still remains optimistic and tries to break away from the clutch of the past. So you don't easily give up when there are hardship and setbacks in your endeavour. Your mind also can think up really out of the box ideas, great innovative ideas that can bring changes to the community, and the society you're in, as long as you give your mind total freedom.

With your resilient heart, your outward aura is very stable and solid, very sure of yourself. You have good self-control, from your body to your mind and your heart. Dark thoughts won't be able to stay in your mind for long, you exercise firm authority on them, not allowing them to sabotage you. Sometimes you can be in a melancholic mood, feeling hopeless or too weary, but you know how to get out of it, centering yourself to the physical reality around you, taking care of yourself and reaffirming your core values. You know how to offset the dark with light, the cold with warmth. When you're stressed, you might choose to do something physical or appreciate the beauty around you, bringing you back to simple happiness. This again points to the sturdiness of your core. You don't seek external validations or nourishment from others, you nourish yourself and shine your own light, you're not the moon waiting for other light to illuminate you and reflecting back that light, you are the sun that give out your light and illuminate others. This self containment, or independence will make you a great leader, or someone who can work independently, actually, any positive won't be daunting to you at all. You can take on lots of stress, not to say that you should, but when working or doing something under pressure, you can still manage the load and work efficiently.

BLUE

Life seems like a never-ending adventure to you. You're not meant to stay in one place, be contented with "normal" life, "normal" means what everyone thinks how life should be, not for you, you're a traveller, a seafarer, constantly following the flow of life. The fluidity of your energy enables you to navigate life situations with grace and ease, not that you're trouble-free or everything is smooth sailing all the time, but you don't get stuck. If you ever find yourself in a predicament, you don't sit and complain, asking why misfortune befell you, you try to find all the information you can get, the lesson you can learn, the most positive outcome and the most opportune moment to turn misfortune into your advantage, rising again, stronger and wiser. You have keen eyes that can notice opportunities from miles away and an open heart that can welcome those opportunities, which makes you seem like a very lucky person to the onlookers.

Your mind is your greatest asset that can make you rise in this world. You don't let valuable information slip through your mind, you examine it with curiosity and intense focus, extract from it the essence that can be used for the future. Your mind is not just geared with sheer laser focus, but also an ability for intuitive abstract thinking, it reminds me of genius, how it can weave all the bits of information into a fantastical picture. If something captured your attention, you would dive deeply into it, try to understand its core. This makes you an excellent researcher or someone who can do works that require focus and resilience. You can also read people accurately right from the first few exchanges and can adjust your approach accordingly. It's not about people pleasing, charming people to get your way, it's tact and understanding, thesr traits will make you greatly attractive, not just on one on one level but also on a bigger scale, in a professional environment or when you need to address a crowd.

Your energy is very balanced between masculine and feminine energy. It's both nurturing and authoritative. Drive and intuition, active and passive, strong yet soft. You shine but you also let others shine too, you don't steal other's light, if anything, you help them shine even brighter. Being with you makes people feel safe, at ease. You allow people to be themselves without ridicule or judgement. But you can also firmly lead people, giving them guidance and security. You can be serious but not rigid and cold, you can be chatty without being superficial, charming without hidden motives. These traits would develop gradually over the years, you will find that as you get older, you'll be more sure of yourself and more confident in front of people, stepping into your authority more, like growing a tree for many years and finally you can enjoy the sweet fruits.

WHITE

Right of the bat, the word "refreshing" came to my mind. You have a unique take on everything, from the most trivial matters to the worldly philosophical thoughts that you have, everything is different from the usual way many people are used to. People would definitely want to come to you when they're stuck in a problem and uninspired, they know that you will always have something unique to say to them, making them more aware of hidden aspects at play and a fresh solution. Problem solving could be one of your greatest skills. But it's not the logical, factual thinking that is usually associated with problem solving, it's highly intuitive. Your mind hovers between the collective thinking and the individual paths each person can have, you can synthesise those two worlds into an abstract thinking system that can get hold of information seemingly out of thin air and mix and match them together flexibly. You instinctively understand what people want and you deliver it, with a new twist. Your ideas are the road to manifest whatever your wishes are.

Not just mentally, but emotionally, you also express yourself truthfully, without trivialise other's emotions or making them feel ignored. You respect emotions, both of yourself and of others, creating an emotionally safe space that can foster trust. Commerce and sales might be the areas where you can express that strong point. Your emotional intelligence also adds charm to your physical appeal. You know how people always praise the eyes that are full of emotions and light? When you're in touch with emotions, your eyes show, and they beckon people to them. Your manner, your aura shows a charm that is real and earthy, nothing elusive or deceptive about it, like walking in an actual orchard instead of looking at it from a picture. You can see, touch, smell, hear all the things happening around you.

You also rarely judge people, if you do, it's not harsh or too triggering. You adopt the mentality of going with the flow, live and let live. You don't demand from people, other than respect for your boundaries and privacy, which you value above all else. Other than those, you let people live their way without imposing your beliefs on them. This open-minded attitude is very important when you're working in a team, you provide ideas, but you likely don't want to control and lead people. Though you could find yourself in the leader position often simply because the one with the good ideas usually is nominated to be the leader. You're fine working for others. But if you're in a leadership, you lead with leniency, allowing enough rooms for individuality to shine.

This might be a bit random, but you can be a good cook or a good decorator. If you're tasked with decorating an event or a living space, or just making anything aesthetically pleasing, you'll be surprised how positive people's receptions are. If this is not something you're aware of about yourself, you should pay more attention to it and develop it, it can open new career opportunities for you.

RED

There's a method to your madness, not that I'm saying you're mad or crazy, but you can think up some outlandish and original ideas, a little bit "out there". What people don't understand is that behind all those seemingly random and genius ideas is a very disciplined spirit. There's logic and sound reasons behind your every action. What people perceived were just the puppets playing on the stage, they didn't see the puppeteer controlling the puppets. Every action and word require fine skill, but you have the ability to make them seem effortless. Your mind is like the sky during a thunderstorm, thoughts and ideas zigzagging, making flashes that blind the eyes. What you say can be very spontaneous or somewhat irrelevant at first glance, but thinking deeper, people can't help but marvel. You might also have a knack of predicting the trends, always one step ahead. Creative careers of course would be very suitable for you, but you can also find success in predictive analytics or education. Your words need to be delivered to the world, they're your greatest contributions.

You have an air of feeling at ease with wherever places you're. You might be someone doing an independent freelance job, but then if suddenly, you're to be placed in the position of leadership or a completely different job, you wouldn't be fazed by it, you go into it as if it's the most natural thing to do, as if you've done this a million times. This air of confidence and ease makes people want to give you opportunities, to trust you with important tasks and jobs.

When you're faced with an unfamiliar subject, you would patiently deconstruct it into an understandable structure. There's an intense focus being put on it, not just to understand it but to master it. To be the object of your focus would akin to being scrutinised and studied by a scientist. You can be a quite obsessive and hyper focused when you're interested in something. Especially when you want to achieve a goal or possess something, you go with all your might, there's no fear, no hang-up involved, because you're not afraid to be judged. Your inner drive roots in the ideal vision you seek, not in simple egotistical desires like wanting to be recognised or praised. You might actually shun publicity or attention, because attention can curb your freedom, which is what you seek and value the most. So you're fine with working behind the screen, as long as you can achieve your goals, and those goals are usually about advancement and improvement of something that can benefit the collective.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarotblr #witchblr #crystal reading #lithomancy #tarot reading #divination #tarot #tarot community #astro community #astrology #astro #crystal #witch community #astroblr #tarot witch #occult #pick a stone

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tmpestuous · 14 days ago

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illicit affairs (II)

summary: bucky’s time as a congressman requires extra assistance, in more ways than one.

pairing: congressman!bucky x communications director!reader

warnings: smut [18+], oral (m+f receiving, some of it in a vehicle), fingering, unprotected sex, soft dom!bucky, a clearly inappropriate work relationship, mentions of jealousy, talks of the alien invasion from the first avengers movie, set during thunderbolts* so there are spoilers if you still haven’t seen it

word count: 6.5k

a/n: this indeed got away from me a bit which is why it took so long to update… my sincerest apologies but i think the content will make up for the wait <3

series masterlist

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The nation’s capital was one of your favorite places in the whole country. The feeling of belonging wasn’t lost on you, with plenty of years spent roaming government offices with your parents as a child. Washington was never a place you’d feel out of place in, though it could never replace New York.

Seeing the landmarks never got old, walking (or in your current case, driving) through the history of a very complicated mass of land. As you looked at the cherry blossom trees, still standing tall and beautiful after the near-destruction of the National Park several months prior, the uncertainty of a world without heroes dawned on you. The Founding Fathers might have been ahead of their time in building such a nation. Still, you were certain they never imagined mutants and superheroes, let alone the President turning into a giant, red Hulk in the middle of a press conference on the South Lawn, then proceeding to fight Captain America in the heart of the city.

Sam does all that he can, and it’s more than admirable how much he’s been able to accomplish in his three years as Cap. Precariousness unfortunately takes over when he isn’t around, busy somewhere else, or reminding himself that he has his own life away from the shield. It also prompts the discussions of how much success he’s actually had, but the doubters never affected his work; rather, it fueled his desire to protect people one mission at a time.

It’s the same desire that has become impossible to miss in Bucky’s eyes, when he’s watching the news about Sam or scrolling on his phone and seeing people vent about missing the Avengers—he misses putting his hands to work, joining a fight on his own accord. He’s tired of fighting, he claims. He doesn’t do that anymore. But you couldn’t ignore the way he worries about Sam when he’s assigned, wishing he were there to ease some responsibility off of him and Joaquín. The day he decided to drop the niceties and return to what he knew as second nature never came. Even so, watching him investigate Valentina’s mischief told you that day wasn’t far.

Once your driver made a turn on Independence Avenue, you texted Bucky about your arrival. It wasn’t in your plans to come down to D.C. today, but an invitation to an Honoring NYC Heroes gala piqued your interest. Congressional staff rarely ever received invitations to government events, but Bucky pulled some strings to get you on the guest list. After he claimed he needed you to help deal with his Valentina issue, you couldn’t say no, but you knew if it were up to him, he’d have you in D.C. all the time.

Commuting from the city to DC every day wasn’t ideal, but you couldn’t relieve yourself of the lease on your apartment in Brooklyn. The travel was a few hours and eating away at your funds a bit, but the eager super soldier who needed to see you every day was more at fault for that. Your job responsibilities could have easily been carried out at his Congressional office in Brooklyn, but Bucky insisted that you come to D.C. He offered to let you stay at his apartment in the city during the week, but you felt that it would be intrusive. After the first refusal, he offered to reimburse your travel expenses, but you assured him the pay from your position was more than enough.

Thanking your driver with a soft smile as he stopped in front of the building where Bucky’s office was located, you grabbed your bag and exited the car. Fall in the city started to become more noticeable, the current breeze making you wish you’d packed a sweater. You quickly rushed towards the Cannon House Office Building, using the staff entrance to make your way inside. After flashing your staff badge to the security guard, you walked towards Bucky’s office.

Office 245 — Rep. James B. Barnes, NY-10

You knocked on the door twice, about to hit a third time before Bucky opened the door, smiling as his gaze landed on your face. He was in a greyish-blue suit, his burgundy tie loosened a bit as it was past 5 PM. Quickly grabbing your wrist, he pulled you inside his office, shutting the door behind you and locking it.

Bucky pulled you in for a hug, the musk of his cologne invading your senses as you returned the embrace. “Fuck, baby, I’ve been waiting to see you all day,” he whispered in your ear as he squeezed you, vibranium arm whirring as he tightened his grip.

Your relationship with Bucky was nothing official, but more than certainly exclusive. Sam even called and thanked you for getting Bucky out of his hole more often after he was sworn into office. It was a mutual decision not to label anything that could threaten the nature of your professional relationship, a scandal being the last thing Bucky needed during a congressional term many felt he wasn’t ready to carry out.

Originally, Bucky wanted you as his Chief of Staff. After all, you would have to check in with him daily, manage and implement all of his policy objectives, and supervise his entire Congressional staff, among other things. Most importantly, you’d have to move to Washington. Though you knew you’d be fantastic at the job, the concept of uprooting your life for a position under the man you’d shared a bed with was anything but intriguing.

It didn’t help that he was so smitten either, with a constant gaze of infatuation so noticeable that it could make you melt through the floor every time you caught him.

“I can control myself in public,” Bucky defended himself, a playfully offended look on his face.

“You couldn’t even stop staring at me while you were getting sworn in,” you countered, and his expression changed to one of defeat. “I mean, Sam taunted you for it for an hour when we were out for dinner.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fucking Wilson. But I can still control myself,” he pushed, letting you know he wouldn’t relent, but you knew you couldn’t accept his offer. “No one would be better than you at this job, and I don’t want to be stuck with some asshole.”

“And you won’t.” You shook your head, moving a stray hair out of your face before you sat on his lap, your legs hanging off his thighs. “You and I both know it won't end well. I can still be part of your staff, but I’m more than positive any of your interns would know you were screwing your Chief of Staff.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist. “We’re not just screwing,” he emphasized, kissing your cheek twice, “but alright.”

Becoming his Communications Director was the best option. Your experience as his campaign manager was more than enough to get the job, even with murmurs of surprise at your rejection of the higher position. It was still risky, but you would be directly handling his relationship with the media and were more than cautious.

“You’re squeezing me, Buck,” you squeaked out, pushing him to release his grip. He looked down at you with his hands now placed on your cheeks. His face was flushed, a rare sight to see Bucky blushing. He looked so cute.

“Sorry,” his usual grimace on his face. “I missed you.”

“Well, when trying to get to Penn Station this morning, the trains, of course, were delayed because of some person walking on the tracks,” you complained in typical New Yorker fashion, making Bucky chuckle. “I almost missed the Amtrak to get here, but that’s another 3 hours, and then I got an Uber to drive me here.”

“I would’ve had someone get you.” Bucky removed his hands from your cheeks, placing them on your hips, rubbing them gently.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, kissing his cheek. “I missed you, too, but we have got to talk about that press interview, Bucky.”

Bucky was no people person, but after a more-than-successful campaign and your explicit presentation about speaking to journalists, you trusted that he could hold his own without you in his ear. Much to your dismay, you were flooded with an onslaught of messages from the congressional staff losing their minds. As the CD, everyone mentioned you in their rambles, the ceaseless buzzing prompting you to look at your phone while you were drafting your agenda for the next day on the train.

“Damn it, Bucky,” you whispered to yourself watching the video.

It was expected that when he refused to read every packet that came his way, the pile would slowly but surely start to crowd his kitchen counter, and he’d run out of things to say. It was safe to say you didn’t anticipate it happening so quickly into his term, but you only had yourself to blame for not pushing him a bit harder.

Bucky sucked a breath in as he turned to walk towards his desk. “It was that bad, huh?”

“You could’ve said worry a lot less.” You grimaced as you shook your head, setting your bag down on one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Bucky clenched his jaw, arms crossed, as he turned back toward you and leaned against his desk, crossing one leg over the other. As you walked toward him, he scanned your face and furrowed his eyebrows.

Your attention was on the table, where a photo of him and Sam faced you, along with some pictures of him with Steve behind it. There was a Polaroid of the campaign staff after Bucky won the election, with the big ‘VOTE BUCKY ‘26’ banner in the background of the dozens of people in the picture. You and Bucky were in the middle, a huge smile on both of your faces.

“Luckily for you,” you said with your eyes still on the Polaroid, “Valentina’s hearing is making more noise online. But we won’t have the CIA Director facing impeachment to cover you for the next year and a half.”

Bucky expected the backlash after he walked away from the press, immediately recognizing that maybe he should’ve said he wasn’t taking questions instead. He would be lying if he didn’t somewhat enjoy it when it happened, but it was never his intention to seek your fated reprimand. Your relationship never got in the way of your job, so he knew you’d give him your usual stern but sweet scolding. Bucky wished he’d put you in such a position less often, sowing more of his doubts about his work in his role.

Thankfully, the first hearing with the impeachment trial committee did offer a distraction from his screw-up. Masking his irritation about her irresponsible usage of government resources, Bucky knew Valentina would be lying out of her ass. Most assumed he’d be part of the impeachment committee, seeing as the Sentry Project was an experiment reminiscent of his time as the Winter Soldier. Others in Congress sounded off against the possibility, citing his very time with Hydra and his work with the Avengers as conflicts of interest. Bucky agreed, deciding to help from the outside, which meant he would also have to talk a lot less.

During one of your visits to D.C., you found out that Bucky’s suspicions about Valentina played a role in his congressional interest. You had doubts of your own about the CIA Director, becoming more suspicious when Bucky gave you his own opinions. As a lifelong observer of the government, her impeachment trial came as no surprise to you. The committee seemed a little out of their depth, and Valentina wasn’t an idiot. You weren’t expecting her to get anything more than a slap on the wrist, as most politicians were getting these days, if they got any punishment. Bucky was confident about putting a stop to her work with OXE; however, you didn’t express your judgment of the situation.

As soon as the first day of hearings was adjourned, he received your text, reminding him of the inevitable lecture coming his way. He never minded though; you were too damn good at your job. Bucky’s approval rating still sat above 50%, and his addresses to the media had all been less than okay. He hadn’t passed a single bill in six months, most people in Congress suspected he’d fizzle out before his term was over, and many laughed at the idea of him running for re-election. You managed to control the narrative every single time, highlighting that Bucky’s gratitude and dedication to his district were more important than anyone skeptical of his progress.

Anyone else would have been tanking in the polls and among their party, but Bucky had the best Communications Director in either chamber.

“Maybe this gala’s a good opportunity to chat some people up?” You suggested, still racking your brain for solutions to Bucky’s public flounder, sitting in the empty chair beside you. “Valentina’s using it to cover her ass, so why can’t you?”

Bucky shook his head in response, prompting you to tilt your head.

“I have to find out what she’s up to, see if her assistant might crumble and give me information,’ the gears turning in his head. “This gala isn’t to make her look good, it’s a distraction. Typical play out of a con’s book.”

You hummed. “Do you really think her assistant is gonna share information with a former Avenger about her boss, who is trying to replace the Avengers?”

“You think it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s not bad, just not quite realistic if you don’t handle it properly,” you expressed your opinion, slightly referring back to his earlier fumble. He knew it was well-intentioned. “She’s easier to crack than Valentina, but you can’t go in there all broody and bad at words.”

Bucky rolled his eyes with a smirk, moving from his desk to lean forward in your direction, grasping the armrests of the chair you were seated in. His face was mere inches from yours, closing his eyes as he inhaled the vanilla notes of your favorite perfume before staring into yours.

“Good thing I have you to help me, right?” His voice was soft-spoken, with remnants of the scent of gum on his breath.

You nodded without a word, biting down softly on your bottom lip. Bucky loved it when you got shy in front of him, your usual commanding nature absent in seconds.

His eyes flutter closed before pressing his lips against yours, a deep kiss that had you tasting the mint on his breath as he swiftly slid his tongue in your mouth. His hands were still on the armrests as he groaned into your mouth, one of your own moving upwards to tug on his hair.

Bucky pulled away as you moved to cup his face, a grin on his face.

“We should head out,” he teased, pecking your lips once more as you raised your eyebrows and then stood straight.

Scoffing playfully, you hit his stomach. “You fucker, you did that on purpose.”

Bucky chuckled, grabbing your bag from the other chair and slinging it on his right shoulder, grabbing his own bag from beside his desk with his left hand.

“You love it.”

NEW YORK CITY, N.Y.

The Battle of New York happened over a decade ago, but you could recount your entire day like it was yesterday.

After taking your last final, you were packing up your belongings to head back home from your dorm. Freshman year was mostly a blur, with how fast time went, but you managed to finish strong.

Once you’d filled up your last storage bin with your kitchen items, you closed the lid and pushed it towards the rest with your foot. As you pulled your phone out to call your dad, you felt the building shake. An earthquake in New York wasn’t impossible, but insanely rare. While going to check the news, you saw a giant ship fly right by your window, the sky above completely ripped apart and spitting out aliens.

Everyone in New York called it The Incident. Seeing the Avengers’ items on display, the big ‘A’ from the old Stark Industries tower in the middle of the room, brought back every memory of that day and the aftermath. Your parents almost forced you to commute to school the following semester, not wanting to run the risk of being separated from you in the event of another alien invasion. Thankfully, your persuasive nature convinced them otherwise.

The public trusted the Avengers almost immediately after The Incident. While the city’s destruction left people in turmoil, it was better than being killed by extraterrestrials. People couldn’t thank them enough, with banners and murals decorating the city shortly after, flowers and letters left outside of what had then turned into Avengers Tower. It felt weird seeing their things as artifacts, a reminder that they were really gone.

Bucky stared at you as you took in the scenery, fiddling with your fingers. You wore a silk, cream-colored dress, draped off your shoulders. Your hair was slicked into an updo, perfect curls hanging loose on top. Teardrop diamonds hung from your ears, twinkling perfectly in the light, a matching diamond necklace sitting right beneath your collarbones.

He was fighting his urges all evening— as the two of you got ready, while you were in the car, and now as he further took in your appearance at the top of the steps in the room. Bucky took his chances to give you a good scan when you weren’t looking, knowing you’d give him one stern look – an unspoken warning to behave. But he couldn’t help himself when you were the most gorgeous person in the room, taking the moment to study you like he wanted—needed to memorize every single feature.

“There’s Valentina and her assistant,” you pointed out once you finished observing the room. You turned your head, meeting your eyes with Bucky’s, who’d shifted his expression once you looked at him. “Bucky—”

“Behave,” he interrupted. “I know the rules, boss.”

“You’re my boss,” you corrected him.

“I like it the other way around,” he said lowly as he got closer to you, a smug grin on his face while you turned away from him, your cheeks suddenly warm.

“The assistant just left Valentina’s side,” you returned to the original topic, gripping Bucky’s left upper arm to shove him forward gently. “Go. Remember what we practiced.”

Bucky took a glance back at you as he walked towards Valentina’s assistant, who was staring at the same Stark ‘A’ you saw when you walked into the room.

Once you saw him chatting her up, you made your way around the room. A few recognizable faces made conversation with you, distracting you enough that you’d lost sight of Bucky.

Figuring that he’d find you later, you continued your walk around the room. Reading the cards for each artifact, the tools used by heroes you knew so well, yet still knew nothing at all. The Battle of New York remained as a distant memory, one you lingered on before someone tapped on your shoulder, interrupting your thoughts as a foreign voice said your name.

Turning around, you were met with an unfamiliar face. A tall man, short, blonde hair parted to the side, combed perfectly. He was wearing an all-black suit; it reminded you of Bucky’s taste, one you told him he couldn’t wear as a Congressman. Not professional enough, too intimidating, would cause controversy. The lapel pin he wore matched Bucky’s, signifying a member of the House. You hadn’t recognized him, but there were 435 of them. Clearly not a notable figure, you assumed he’d approached you for some help.

It was all you’d been lauded for all evening, turning around the image of the Winter Soldier. You gave Bucky most of the credit in every quick conversation, mostly telling the truth. Of course, you’d helped, but it was easier to commend his willingness to adapt than draw any attention to yourself. You had enough of that growing up.

“I’ve seen your work with Barnes, pretty impressive,” the man in front of you praised, not even bothering to introduce himself. “Care to help another man get re-elected?”

“My schedule’s already filled with unnamed Congressmen up for re-election, sorry,” you said as you avoided his gaze, trying to walk past him as your eyes landed on Bucky walking across the upper balcony of the room.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a grip on your wrist. It wasn’t threatening in any way, soft enough for you to pull your hand away as quickly as you did, but still just as annoying. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to work you. Christian Reynolds, I oversee the 17th here in New York.”

He extended his hand for you to shake, which you did firmly.

“You often try to talk to people at events without introducing yourself?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you stared up at him, dropping your hand back at your side.

“You’re a harsh one, huh?” He teased back. “I can see why Barnes keeps you around. Feisty and quick, I like it. But to answer your question, no, I think you’re the first. Guess I got flustered around a beautiful woman.”

You scoffed playfully. “Nice save.”

“I try.”

You crossed your arms across your chest, noticing the way his eyes fluttered down before landing on your face again. You rolled your eyes instinctively before he could notice.

“How about I buy you a drink and we can talk about my campaign?”

Narrowing your eyes, you smirked. “Thanks, but I’m unavailable.”

“Unavailable for a drink or unavailable to help with my campaign?”

“Both,” the familiar voice popped behind you.

You heard Bucky before you saw him, stealthy as ever as he walked up beside you, eyeing the man in front of you with his usual menacing stare—brows knitted together, lips slightly pouted. How did he get here that fast?

“No harsh feelings, Barnes,” Reynolds put his hands up in surrender. “Not a crime to talk to a pretty woman. She’s on your staff, not mine.”

“Harass a lot of Congressional staff members?” Bucky questioned, his posture straightening, face becoming more stoic.

“We should go,” you butted in, looking at Bucky with a coy smile on your face. “Lots to talk about, policies to discuss, bills to pass. Right, James?”

Bucky nodded once, catching your drift as he agreed, though not meeting your gaze. He bid goodbye to Reynolds before he led you out of the room.

Once you made it up the stairs and out of the front entrance, Bucky signaled for his driver. Getting the door to the limo for you, Bucky watched as you slipped inside, entering the limo once you were situated and shutting the door. He looked over to find you staring at him, trying to conceal the grin on your face by biting down on your lip, failing miserably.

“What?” Bucky asked, gaze dropping to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Haven’t seen you jealous before.”

“Jealous?” He repeated incredulously. “Reynolds is no good, accused of shit in the past. Can’t have you around that.”

You hummed once. “Just protecting me, then? Gonna help me find a nice, professional boyfriend?”

Bucky shook his head, a smirk on his face as he inched closer to yours.

“You already have one,” he whispered as he brought his right hand up to cup your cheek, caressing it lightly. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

“And you behaved,” you whispered back, leaning into his touch.

Bucky locked his eyes on yours, darting his tongue across his bottom lip.

He had been restraining himself all evening, trying to ignore how hard he was getting as he watched the way your hips swayed as you walked around the room, having to turn his attention elsewhere before it got obvious.

After talking to Valentina’s assistant, Mel, and having a rather unproductive conversation with Congressman Gary, the one overseeing the impeachment trial, all Bucky could think about was getting back to you. He stood atop the balcony, inspecting the room before he landed on your figure.

It wasn’t difficult—you stood out in the best way possible. Everyone moved towards you, trying to grab your attention for more than 30 seconds at a time. You never let them, never wanting to leave someone with enough information to form an opinion of you. But you remained approachable, a practiced smile on your face for events like this one.

He’d felt guilty at first for dragging you to it, adding something to your already-long agenda. Even so, he felt amazing knowing no one could get a taste of you like him, figuratively and literally. None of these people knew you, nor would they ever. Not the way he did.

“You’ve been driving me fucking insane all night,” he said lowly, his voice only loud enough for you to hear. Not like the driver cared anyway, the partition always rolled up. “All dolled up, talking to all those fucking people you know you don’t care about. Wearing that perfume that you know is my favorite, and the jewelry I bought you. Had to stop myself from dragging you to the bathroom and taking you apart right there.”

“You wouldn’t,” you teased. “You couldn’t.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t,” he repeated, leaning his face into your neck, inhaling your scent before planting a few kisses, mumbling against your skin. “I should’ve.”

“Bucky…”

“Should’ve shown everyone in there you’re more than just unavailable,” he kissed across your jaw before he met your eyes again. “Should’ve shown them how well you fall apart, just for me. Are you gonna let me take you apart right here, baby?”

You nodded, the tsk, tsk falling from Bucky’s lips with a shake of his head.

“Answer me. With words, sweetheart.”

“Take me apart, Bucky. Please.”

Bucky smirked as he moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, slotting his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, eager and quick like he couldn’t control himself anymore.

Sliding his tongue past your lips, he kissed you like he wanted to devour you whole, smelling the sweet scent of the lip gloss you were wearing, now smeared all over his lips and ruined on yours.

Moving your left hand over the bulge in his pants, you rubbed slowly, eliciting a groan from Bucky right into your mouth. Getting hold of his belt, you used both hands to unbuckle it before unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks. Bucky pulled away from your lips, kissing across your jaw and sucking down your neck, making sure to leave a mark.

Pulling his cock out of the confines of his boxers, you stroked him gently. Bucky couldn’t help but moan against your skin, your soft hands working him so well as he felt so sensitive to the touch.

“I want you in my mouth,” you said softly, Bucky leaving one last mark on your neck before looking up at you, lips swollen and pupils dilated. The tone of your voice made it sound like a plea, but Bucky knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He didn’t say a word, only watched as you pressed your thumb on his tip, a broken groan escaping his lips.

“Will you let me?” You whispered against his lips. “You were so good today,” you continued to stroke him, his dominant resolve crumbling under your touch. “Let me thank you, please.”

“You sure you want to, baby?” He asked, slight concern on his face as you nodded. “I need words, pretty girl.”

“I want to.”

Bucky moved his hand down to the back of your neck as you leaned your head a bit forward, lining it above his crotch. After gathering spit in your mouth, you let it drip down on his shaft, making it easier to slide your hand up and down. Before you could move to get on your knees, Bucky gripped your waist with his left hand, grabbing your attention as he told you to hold on.

He slid his blazer off, spreading his legs before setting it on the floor between his feet.

“Don’t wanna ruin your pretty dress, baby,” he said with a peck to your lips.

You moved to rest on your knees between his legs, left hand squeezing Bucky’s thigh while you started stroking him again with the right. Moving your head forward, you swirled your tongue around his tip a few times, a broken exhale leaving his mouth. Bucky rested his hands against your cheeks as you took him in your mouth, sucking on his tip for a moment before making your way down his length slowly, taking your time. You relaxed your throat inch by inch, exhaling through your nose.

“Shit,” Bucky groaned out, feeling the warmth of your mouth and the movement of your tongue around him for the first time was indeed a fucking reward. “So fucking good, sweetheart. You’re doing great, baby.”

Hollowing your cheeks as you reached the bottom of his length, you started to bob your head up and down, pace still slow but faster than you’d taken to have him fully inside your mouth. Bucky was stuttering your name from above, locking his fingers together behind your head, trying hard not to rock his hips as his tip hit the back of your throat.

You squeezed both of Bucky’s thighs, picking up your pace around his shaft as you proceeded to rub them. Drool slipped slightly from the sides of your mouth, moving your left hand at the same time as your mouth to stroke him, moaning around his length.

You could feel Bucky flex his thighs, tightening his grip around the back of your head. Looking up, you saw his head tilted back, brows knitted together, lips parted. He looked down at you as you slowed your pace, breaths still heavy and fast, before closing his eyes again, face contorted in pleasure.

You moved back down his length, eyes still locked on him until his tip hit the back of your throat, exhaling roughly in an attempt not to gag. Sliding back up to his tip once your throat started to burn, you sucked on it, using your left hand to gently squeeze his balls, a pornographic moan escaping his mouth.

Bucky moved his hands back to your cheek, starting to lift his hips a bit, hesitating in fear of being too rough. You squeezed his thighs again, prompting him to look at you as you nodded, assuring him.

“You sure?” He gasped out, leading you to nod again, your mouth not leaving its current task. “Shit, baby, you gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth?”

Moaning around him again, Bucky moved his hands back behind your head. Rocking his hips up gently, he set a calm pace for his thrusts. Spit crowded around his length as you slurped, trying to ignore the ache in your throat as Bucky fastened his pace.

“Look at you, so fucking gorgeous—fuck, that’s so fucking good—so pretty while you let me use your mouth, doll,” he praised with groans in between while your mouth glided over him in a fast, steady rhythm. “Such a good girl for me, always so fucking good for me.”

His breath quickly became more jagged, letting you know he was close. You tapped his thighs, his thrusts halting as he looked at you, completely out of breath.

“Are you okay? Was I too rough?” He spit out quickly, cupping your face as you pulled off his length with a pop.

“We’re home,” you said, his attention snapping to the window as the limo came to a stop outside of his place. “And I want you to fuck me in your new house.”

“Jesus Christ,” he said, quickly situating his pants as he pushed the door open eagerly.

You made your way out first, looking back at him as he fumbled inside the limo with a shit-eating grin on your face. Bucky quickly grabbed his blazer off the floor before following, kicking the door shut. He made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, bending down to carry you over his shoulder despite your protesting between laughs.

He quickly opened the front door with his keys, slamming it shut and locking it after walking inside. Throwing his blazer on the floor, he set you back down on the floor facing him. You walked backwards to your left—his right—towards the couch, Bucky matching your slow strides.

You stopped in front of the couch, with Bucky licking his lips as he towered over you. Angling your eyes upward, you bit down on your lip as you turned around. Bucky quickly moved his hands to pull your zipper down, your dress pooling around your feet as you stepped out of it, heels still on.

You opted for no bra with your gown, Bucky’s gaze traveling down the length of your back before falling on your white, lace underwear. Turning around, Bucky immediately grabbed onto your hips, pushing you backwards. The back of your knees hitting the couch forced you to sit, your eyes still focused on the man in front of you.

Bucky kneeled down, spreading your legs open with his palms before placing them on your waist again. He leaned down, kissing on top both of your knees, making his way up with kisses across your thighs. He grabbed the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs and discarding them on the floor.

You instinctively spread your legs more, his breath warm against your sex. Wasting no time, Bucky slotted his mouth onto your clit, your back arching as soon as you felt his touch. He slid his arms under your thighs, gripping them in place with his hands as he slid his tongue down your folds, your arousal coating his lips as he moved languidly.

You moved your hands to grasp onto his shoulders, moans filling the living space as Bucky’s tongue swirled around your clit, the sensation overstimulating as the rest of your body warmed up. Pulling away slightly, Bucky released your left thigh, moving his right hand towards your folds, two fingers smearing your slick up and down your cunt before sliding them slowly inside your walls. You bit down on your lip as you whimpered, your waist squirming while Bucky pumped his fingers in and out.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, baby.” Bucky lapped his tongue over your clit again, curling his fingers inside you the way you liked while he savored your taste.

“Fuck, I’m close, Jamie,” you gasped out, a broken moan following as Bucky picked up the pace of his fingers, his thrusts deeper, simultaneously sucking your clit more intensely.

You situated your left leg over his shoulder, his tongue flat as he slid it back down your cunt, moving back up to circle your clit, then repeating the motion. Your moans triggered groans while he relished in his action between your legs, the vibrations making your grip tighten on his shoulders. Bucky felt your body as it tensed, your hold on his shoulders impossibly rigid, back arched as the coil tightened. Leaving his mouth wrapped around your clit, he suuuuucked until you spasmed under him, clenching around his fingers while his thrusts didn’t relent.

Once your moans became desperate from the overstimulation, Bucky pulled away, sliding his fingers out. He looked up at you as you caught your breath, eyes shut and mouth ajar.

He put his left hand on your cheek, cool metal soothing your warm face.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, opening your eyes to look at his ocean blue ones, wrapping your left hand around his metal wrist. “I’m great.”

Bucky chuckled, watching in lust as you moved your hand from his left one to his right, pulling his hand to your mouth, sucking his fingers while he groaned lowly.

Bucky pulled his hand from your mouth, moving above you as you moved to lie on the couch. Nudging your legs apart with his knee, he rested his forearms on either side of your torso, leaning down to press his lips against yours. Your hands moved to pull his bowtie off, then unbutton his shirt and pull it off, throwing it on the coffee table and leaving him in a tank top.

Bucky slid his pants down, never rebuttoning or rezipping them in the limo. His boxers followed, cock still just as hard as it was earlier. You moved your right hand down to wrap around him, sliding his tip up and down your folds before positioning it at your entrance. Bucky thrust in slowly, taking his time for you to adjust until he reached the hilt.

He set a steady tempo, a whine leaving both your lips before Bucky drove into you hungrily, the warmth of your walls as they clenched around him so quickly stimulating. He grabbed your legs, folding them towards your chest to angle himself deeper, pounding relentlessly while he moaned in your ear. You tugged on his hair, leaning your head back as his tip kissed your cervix repeatedly, his determined thrusts staggering a bit.

His whines in your ear only aroused you more, your name repeated on his tongue with mixes of praises that made you melt.

“My sweet girl,” he grunted, meeting your eyes while he plunged into you. “You’re so insatiable—shit— feels so good when you’re wrapped around me like this. Taking me like this pussy was made just for me, hm? Made only for my cock to be inside?”

His moans were incessant between his words, uncontrollable as they coexisted with yours in the space. Warmth filled the area between you, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull his body closer to yours.

“Cum with me, Jamie,” you pleaded, feeling his body tense on top of yours. You knew he was close. “Please, I want it.”

“I’m gonna give it to you, doll,” he assured you, his thrusts irregular as he got closer to his climax. “Cum for me, again, baby. Fall apart for me like you always do, like the good girl you are.”

Bucky quickened his pace, moving his left hand to circle your clit, speeding up your release to come right before his. Your muscles tensed up before your body shook as you came around him, Bucky thrusting impatiently a few more times, the familiar warmth filling you up as he grunted above you.

“I should make you jealous more often,” you said once your breaths evened out, Bucky lying on your chest, softening while still inside you.

“I wasn’t jealous,” he defended as he pulled out slowly, the emptiness afterwards a feeling you’d never get used to.

Bucky stood up, turning around to head to the bathroom.

“Nice ass,” you called out, smirking as he shook his head when walking back out.

Bucky wiped you clean with a towel, cleaning himself off before sliding his boxers back on.

“Food?” He asked, fishing his phone out of his pants to order something.

“Mm, can we try that new chili bowl from Ben’s?”

He nodded, typing away at his phone.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #congressman james buchanan barnes #congressman bucky x reader #congressman barnes #congressman bucky #18 + content

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dcandmarvelimagines · 10 months ago

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sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 1)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, some blood, Wade being too flirty for his own good, vaginal fingering, bathroom sex, dirty talking, the relationship with Logan is a "slow" burn in comparison. More smut to come, I swear. Author's note: Damn...it's been a while huh? My last comic related fic was in 2018, funny enough also because of a Deadpool movie. I was already sappy in a post before so I wont subject y'all to it. But this was intended to be a short little oneshot and has absolutely ballooned out of control. I'm thinking this will end up being five chapters. I will upload the second chapter concurrently with my ao3 upload, so if you prefer to read there, feel free! Also as a little aside: I am so unbelievably sorry that the reader's job working in outreach to help Al is barely described and is probably highly inaccurate. I was desperate not to get lost in the weeds of research on the subject. I needed something that would keep the reader out of the apartment most of the time and let the relationship grow differently, so neighbors was out of the question. If you work in community outreach (absolute angel), please just avert your eyes.

I used to think my life was boring. It was the same day in, day out. I never met anyone interesting or experienced new things. That changed when I knocked on an unassuming apartment door in a dingy building.

I worked in government outreach, providing assistance to elderly blind clients. I had been assigned to work with Althea Sanderson. Her file had listed her as combative and she didn’t disappoint. She absolutely hated my guts at first, grumbling about how she just needed her “disco dust” to keep going. She assured me that she had roommates and didn’t need me “thundering” around her small apartment.

For nearly two weeks, I thought her mind had to have been slipping, because no one else would come from that apartment besides me. Imagine my shock when I walked into the place and found a hulking mass of a man, only in his boxers, in the kitchen. His brown hair, streaked with white, was wet after a shower and he was half heartedly rubbing at his shoulder with a towel covered in sparkly unicorns. “Who the hell are you?” He snapped, voice gruff. He glared at me like I had personally insulted him by my mere presence. My eyes darted all over him, the thick ropes of muscles in his arms, the harsh planes of abs, the thin sheen of dark hair on his chest, the trail disappearing into his boxers. The man yanked the fridge door open and snapped me from my drooling.

I had barely stumbled my name out before Al, as she insisted I call her when she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, came around the corner, her hands guiding her along the wall. “Leave her alone Logan. She’s like herpes and I can’t get rid of her.” My lips pursed at the comparison. The man, Logan, huffed with either annoyance or laughter before padding away, beer clutched in his hand. For how big he was, I was shocked at how light on his feet he was. In comparison, I really did thunder around.

“Oh! Do we have a new roomie!?” The voice trembled in excitement. Its owner bounded around the corner, clad only in low slung sweatpants, nearly tripping over the scraggly dog at his feet. I drew back, sucking in a sharp breath. The new man was no less tall than the other, but lean in comparison, with a wide chest and firm arms. But I was far more distracted by his skin. It was a mixture of mottled pink and white, looking more like swirled bacon fat than anything else. He was completely hairless but I saw the skin of his forehead rise. “Al, you didn’t say you had a hot granddaughter!”

“Oh I’m not,” I said. While I was scheduled to be here for four hours, I was already contemplating how to escape the suddenly cramped apartment.

“Does she look like she’s related to me dick for brains?” Al growled at him. The man shrugged, a megawatt smile plastered on his face as he picked up the dog and let it lick at his face.

“She has the same wild sexual energy you do, my sweet black Betty White.” He walked closer, carelessly dropping the dog into Al’s lap just as she lowered herself into a creaky chair. The man theatrically bowed, snagging my hand to press a too wet kiss to my knuckles. His skin was unbelievably soft as it held mine, the grip light enough that I could pull away at any moment. “Wade Winston Wilson.”

He was so close to me that I took a half step back. I gave him my name, just my first, and wriggled my hand free. “Um, I'm assuming your Al’s roommates?”

“Roommates is such a safe for work word, I prefer to be her personal pommel horse.” A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. Wade grinned at the sound and shit, his face softened in such a charming way that I felt my defenses come down just a little.

“I don’t think you understand what a pommel horse is.”

“Isn’t it something you ride? Get all flexable on?”

After that first awkward day, all four of us fell into an easy routine. Al seemed to warm to me more, though her sharp tongue never faltered. Wade was a vibrating ball of energy whenever I came over. He bounced around the kitchen as I made Al her coffee or insisted I sit with them to watch Golden Girls . I came to realize that only his right hand was so soft, the left was scratchy and blistered, which was something I refused to think about any deeper. Logan remained standoffish and reserved but he was there when I needed a break from Wade’s constant talking. I would occasionally find him sitting on the fire escape, smoking the cigar that seemed permanently stuck to his fingers. We often just sat in silence while Wade and Al argued about Ikea furniture.

I had always found their schedule strange. They would disappear for days, sometimes weeks, at a time with no rhyme or reason. I had originally thought they might be businessmen but Logan’s quick temper and Wade’s obnoxious energy clashed with the idea. Wade often talked about going to exotic places and had brought me back a diamond that he swears up and down is not only real, but is also the tip of a woman’s finger.

The day I found out their real profession had started horribly. The train line to Al’s apartment had broken, so I had to take a cab there. I was flustered, hungry, and in desperate need of caffeine when I trudged up the five flights of stairs to Al’s apartment, because, of course , her elevator had broken. It was customary for me to knock twice, allowing Al to respond before I used my key to come in. Today, my knocks were much shorter. “Good morning Al,” I called, slipping into the door before turning to close and lock it. I spun and nearly screamed.

“Oh hey,” Wade said, leaning against the wall of the kitchen, a mug clutched in his hand. I was far more distracted by three massive claw marks across his chest, blood oozing down his stomach, staining his plaid underwear.

“Oh my god! Wade!” My keys and purse clattered to the floor as I rushed to him, bracing my hands against his chest. “What happened?! Holy shit, oh fuck.” I was babbling now, distracted by how sticky and hot the blood was. But his chest rumbled under my shaking hands. I glanced up and saw a smile on his face as he failed to contain his laughter. “What are you fucking laughing at?! You’re dying here and you're laughing?!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear. Miss good samaritan knows such nasty words.” I tried never to swear around patients but this was a worst fucking case scenario.

“Oh fuck off! You’re dying and you're laughing ‘cause I said a bad word?!” That only seemed to make him laugh harder.

“Calm down sweetheart,” came a rough voice behind me. Logan had started to call me that more often, but it always felt like he was insulting me with the word. It usually had a stinge of annoyance laced around it, now was no different. “He’s fine.” I peaked over my shoulder, hands still pressed against Wade’s firm chest, about to argue with the other man about how un fine Wade was. I nearly screamed again. A knife was embedded into Logan’s shoulder. There was blood everywhere . On his bare chest, his face, his hands and arms.

“Logan!” I wanted to reach for him but couldn’t without leaving Wade to bleed out.

“Now peanut,” Wade cooed and slid out from under my touch. “I told you, baby knife is just for the bedroom.” With that, Wade yanked the knife from Logan’s shoulder. The spurt of blood made my head woozy and I gripped the counter to hold myself steady. Logan barely reacted to the five inch blade being ripped from his skin, just a small grunt.

“What’s going on?” My voice was thick with confusion. They had clearly been mauled and attacked in their own home, yet they walked around like nothing traumatizing had just happened.

“Target practice,” Wade said, using a kitchen towel to clean baby knife. Logan turned and dropped on the worn couch, the springs screeching in protest.

“What?” I grabbed at his wrist before he could walk away. “Wade, please, I hope you understand how jarring that was. Now, please explain and cut all the punny bullshit out.” Wade pressed a dramatic hand to his chest like I had insulted him.

“We’re mutants.” My eyebrows knitted together as I stalked toward the living room. Logan sat there, whiskey already in hand. He seemingly hid a bottle everywhere. Wade followed behind before collapsing on top of Logan. The older man snapped his jaws like an animal and a little snarl escaped his throat. Wade grinned, tugged at his hair, before going to the other end of the couch.

“Mutants? Like the X-Men?” The scowl Logan shot me turned my blood to ice. Some of that shock must have shown on my face because Logan glanced away, taking a hefty swig of whiskey, and Wade tugged at my bloody pinky.

“Ignore him, the X-men are a touchy subject for him, and never touchy in the fun way.” He scratched at his chest, some of the blood smudging. The skin was…

“You’re healed?” I knelt before the couch, hands feeling his chest. “Holy shit I thought you were going to bleed out.” It was impossible. The wounds were deep , I could have sworn I saw bone before.

“God I’ve thought about you kneeling there for so long.” Logan’s fist cracked into Wade’s arm. My hands flinched away and I quickly stood. “Hurtful peanut. You know my arms always take too long to heal.”

“Stop being a fucking creep,” Logan hissed. I turned to him and saw that the wound in his shoulder was also gone. Without thinking, I bent to touch the smooth skin, as if I couldn’t believe it without feeling it as well. Logan went still under my touch. I knew Wade didn’t mind the physical contact, he practically threw himself at me whenever I was around, but Logan was always just out of reach. I was too frazzled to think correctly anymore.

“So you can heal,” I mumbled.

“Very fast,” Wade said. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the tv.

“You can stop touching me now sweetheart.” Once again, I snatched my hands back with a mumbled sorry , a faint flush burning my cheeks.

“Comes in real handy with our line of work.” Wade was bouncing his leg, the couch squeaking under him. Logan’s hand shot out to still him, knuckles showing white for a moment. Wade winced and I heard another snap.

“Which is…?”

Logan answered for me, “mercenaries.”

“Oh,” I plopped down on the rickety coffee table. The information settled like a lead weight in my stomach. My first instinct was fear. They killed people for money. Would they then turn on me now? Curiosity tugged at me as well. I couldn’t explain it but there was something so magnetic about them. The edge of danger had always been there, especially with Logan. I would have never guessed it was this. Ever since I first met them, I knew I would be fascinated. I guess I had my answer as to why they were as fit as models. “How come I’ve never seen anything? Do you guys not have…guns or whatever?”

“He didn’t want to scare you.” Logan jabbed his thumb Wade’s way. I cocked my head at Wade, a tiny smile pulling at my lips. He actually looked a little bashful.

“I’ve found that women don’t always respond very positively to my intestines hanging out.” My stomach flipped and I sat a little straighter.

“Has that happened?”

“No, but a fortune teller told me it will happen when I least expect it.” He stood with an excited jump, moving to stand in front of a small closet. There was only a faint limp in his movement. As he walked, I became incredibly aware that both men were nearly naked, only clad in thin boxers. With every step, Wade’s well defined back flexed and his legs tensed. I only allowed myself a moment to take him in before I drew my gaze away. He turned and flung the door open with flourish. “Behold! My batcave!” I glanced inside, and found a tall gun case, massive stacks of ammo, and two katanas balanced against a red suit. There was a yellow one tucked next to it as well. “Mine is the red one, a very flattering color I assure you.”

“The yellow one is yours?” Logan just gives me a curt nod. His face is stone again, clearly done with this conversation. “Do you use any of that?” I ask, motioning to the “batcave”, whatever the hell that means.

Snikt.

“Woah,” I whispered. The three blades protruding from between his knuckles were shiny and looked wicked sharp. I leaned forward and pressed the pad of my thumb against the middle blade. It immediately split the skin and a drop of blood oozed down my skin. Logan watched my warily, like I was liable to jump on the claws at any moment. “Do they hurt?” There were small beads of blood around where they had pierced through his skin. With a flex of his veiny forearm, the claws disappeared. The blades slid smoothly between the bones on the back of his hand.

“Yeah, everytime.” I watch his skin knit itself together again with rapt attention. Once it finished, I ran my injured thumb over the regrown skin, our blood smearing a thick stripe across his knuckles. Logan’s hand was relaxed as I held it. Wade flopped back onto the couch, his head in Logan’s lap, baby knife clutched in his hands. Logan seemed resigned, face relaxing just a bit, and allowed Wade to rest. He withdrew his hand from mine before resting his arm across Wade’s neck. The motion was surprisingly domestic and it made my heart warm. Behind me, the Golden Girls theme played.

“Isn’t Al in danger with you two here? Don’t you have enemies that could find her?” The briefest sad expression flashed across Wade’s face. I stood suddenly, “oh my god where is she? Did someone already grab her and that’s why you were fucked up?”

“She’s fine, probably wandering the streets or whatever women of her age do,” Wade made a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Wade!” I stepped on his foot in my mad dash to my fallen purse. I needed my phone to do…something. Call someone? The phone call would sound ridiculous. Hi, I help a blind woman and her two mutant roommates are mercenaries and got her kidnapped. Yeah, totally believable. I had just snatched my bag up when the door opened and Al herself appeared.

“Fucking Jesus,” she snapped as she ran into me. My body sagged in relief at seeing her. I gripped her shoulders, just to make sure she was actually there.

“Oh my god Al, don’t fucking scare my like that.” Her hands flew up and shook out from my touch.

“Well you were late!” I wasn’t. “Are those two done fucking yet?” I twisted to look at the men on the couch. Logan was half way out the window to smoke. I could have sworn I saw him lick at his bloody knuckles. Wade was studying me, the hint of a challenge in his eyes, daring me to say something about their relationship. I smiled, hoping it let him know I didn’t care. But that easy look might have been ruined when pieces fell together. The knife. The three slashes to Wade’s chest. Their near nakedness.

Huh.

“Uh yeah Al, I think I ruined the mood for them.” She scoffed and shoved a grocery bag into my hands. I dutifully turned to the kitchen and began to store away the random assortment of items. She guided herself over to the coffee maker and began to load the grounds into a filter.

“I think you are one of the biggest things that puts them in the mood honey.” I heard a growl float in from the window.

Wade and Logan stopped avoiding me after finding out their true occupation. It never got any easier seeing their bloody bodies strew around the apartment. I slipped on enough stray bullets that I learned to watch my feet. Wade was always cleaning his guns with a concentration I didn’t think he was capable of. One night he forced me to sit down, offering his lap first and whimpered pitifully when I took the chair, and made me hold the gun, showing me how to cock it and flick the safety on and off. The name Chekhov was stamped across the side in shiny gold letters. “Do I really need to know this?” He leaned closer, cheek pressed to mine. His warm hands slid over my own, guiding me to a button that would pop the magazine out and helped me click it back into place. He had grown much bolder in his touching and I couldn’t bring myself to stop him anymore.

“Never know when you’ll need to flip the badass switch.” His bubbly finger tapped the glittering name for emphasis. I shifted in my seat to face him, my lips ghosting over his cheek. He followed my lead and our noses brushed.

“I didn’t think I would need that with you around.” A beat passed as we looked at each other. There was something soft in his eyes that made my heart clench. “You’re going to protect me, right?” It wouldn’t take much to lean closer, to finally kiss him. I knew he was thinking the same thing and my eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation.

The alarm for my Al’s meds broke the moment.

I knew I was sliding into a sticky situation. I found myself staying later and later, well past my shift with Al had ended. It was absolutely forbidden for me to become involved with clients. The excuse that they weren’t technically my clients wouldn’t work on my boss. I needed to make a decision. Either stop working with Al or end any attachment to Wade, and Logan by extension.

***

I’m not sure how Wade and I ended up on that date. He and Logan had been away on a job for a week. It was finally peaceful in the apartment but I couldn’t lie to myself, I had missed them. So I didn’t fight Wade too much when he asked “nicely”, aka demanded , he tag along while I ran errands for Al. She was the last person I had to visit for the day so I allowed him to drag me to a bar after I dropped her meds off. Logan had a dark look in his eyes when he saw Wade clutch my hand. “The old man is just jealous. He wishes someone would take him out, but he doesn’t do well in crowds, very bitey.” I smirked and let Wade choose our destination. His hand was steady around mine, giving it occasional squeezes as we rushed across busy streets. The bar he picked was properly seedy, full to the brim with haggard men with face tattoos. Normally, I would have run screaming from a place like this. But Wade was clearly well liked. He moved through the room, smiling and waving at everyone. He tried introducing me to some people but it was hard to keep their names straight. We found an empty booth tucked behind the row of pool tables. I eased onto the sticky laminate bench as Wade headed to the bar to get our drinks. I listen to the men next to my seat argue over who was supposed to break for their next game of pool while I waited.

Wade returned with my drink, a neon green one for him, and two small shot glasses. I eyed them suspiciously as he passed me one of the whipped cream topped shots. “I thought it was only right to start our date with a blowjob.” I coughed on my laugh, examining the glass. He tapped his against mine before downing it and I followed his lead. It was pure sugar, nearly masking the burn of the alcohol.

“Whoever made this has clearly never given a blow job. Way too sweet.” Wade grinned in that mischievous way he always seemed to when he was going to be especially gross. I had no idea why I was being so forward. But I felt light, happy. All my worries from work had melted away as Wade held my hand on our way here.

“Oh yeah? I’ve been told my cum is rather delicious. It’s all the pineapple I eat.” I rolled my eyes and matched his grin, propping my elbows on the table, head cradled between my hands.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat a single fruit. Or a vegetable honestly.” Wade copied my pose, fluttering his nonexistent eyelashes.

“How about you taste mine and I taste yours?” I pretended to contemplate, eyes scrunching, head tilting from side to side. My hand inched across the table before I plucked the cherry from Wade’s drink. He saw me, I could tell by the minute flick of his gaze, but he let me take it regardless. I yanked it from the stem with my teeth and chewed thoughtfully.

“Hm, I’m not sure. Don’t you think Al would talk if you were moaning my name so much?” He grabbed my wrist and dragged my hand closer. My breath caught as his lips enveloped my index finger and thumb. His tongue lazed over them before he drew back, the cherry stem between his teeth.

“Sweetie pie, I moan it enough as is.” I blushed and my stomach grew warm. The stem disappeared, his jaw moving. “I haven’t been able to convince the old bastard to dress like you yet. But he lets me pretend.” I took a big gulp of my drink and glanced away. The patrons were starting to get more boisterous. Their shouts echoed off the peeling wallpapered walls as they called for more rounds or catcalled some of the working girls. I watched as a pretty blonde walked off with two men. Would Wade and Logan take turns? Or would they pin me between them, spreading me open on both of their- “Jealous?” My head whorled back to him but only found a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Shut up,” I growled and took another deep drink. Wade’s tongue lolled out, in the center was a perfectly knotted stem. I shifted in my seat. This was not how I had intended the night to go. I wanted just a drink, conversation, and then home for a long awaited rest. But here I was, squirming at the mere sight of Wade’s tongue. “Impressive,” I mumbled. I reached across the table and plucked the stem from him. It looked like he was going for another kiss but my hand drew back too fast.

“I know it’s impressive. Just spelling out my name gets it all twisted like that.” I rolled my eyes with a smirk.

“You didn't strike me as a guy who would spell his name out. I thought you might be a little more creative.” He leaned closer, eyes just a bit too wide.

“Oh? What were you imagining I would do? I have a lot of skills and I’ll use them all on you.” Damn it . I finished off my drink and the booze buzzed down my body as it settled inside me. A small voice in my head reminded me that I needed to pick. That if I went down this road with Wade, I needed to stop visiting Al. But fuck, I craved the feeling of his hands on me. I dreamt of him and Logan anytime I saw them. My brain became more and more depraved as the weeks went on. I could barely look at them sometimes without blushing.

“Wade,” I sighed, twirling my straw in the slowly melting ice. “If we do anything, I have to stop working with Al. It’s a conflict of-“ he held a scarred hand up and my voice died away.

“No work talk. It’s Friday, let me show you a good time.” I sighed again but nodded.

The night passed blissfully. Wade was a strangely great date, much better than any guy I’ve been with recently. He asked me a million questions, ranging from my childhood, food allergies, to my favorite Mexican food. He gave me half joke responses about his own childhood, but gave me enthusiastic answers to everything else . He bought me another drink after he finished his but I was careful to sip mine slowly. The last thing I needed was a hangover. He also brought some greasy fries and I dove into them gratefully. We played one round of pool, which he won by only a few points. Then he promptly annihilated me in darts. “So unfair,” I groaned. “You do this for a living, I would have never won.”

“I thought you being sexy would distract me enough. Strip, then you’ll win.” I had that pleasant buzz running through me so his words just made me giggle.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” I held up my hand to cut off his next words. “Not now you horny bastard.” He pouted, lip stuck a full inch off his face. I playfully plucked at it. “Pout all you want. You gotta put more effort in to get me naked.”

That was perhaps the wrong choice of words because he bent down, his lips colliding with mine. I gasped but grabbed at his sweatshirt, clinging to him. He kissed like he wanted to eat me, all tongue and spit. He tasted as sweet as candy from the bright cocktails he had. It made my head swirl, skin heat. His hands moved to my hips and traced the sliver of exposed skin before they dove into my back pockets, and jerked me closer. I moaned into him as I felt the hard ridge in his pants pressed against my hip. The few whoops from our onlookers made me pause. “Probably not the best place.” Wade’s voice was a little husky, lips still close enough to mine that they moved with his words.

“No,” I mumbled. But neither of us disentangled from each other. “I should probably go home.” Wade sighed and straightened. He nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear.

“Fuck you look gorgeous.” His voice was barely audible under the conversations and the music. I opened my mouth to say something but he cut me off. “I gotta hit the head then I’ll take you home.” He removed my hands from his sweatshirt, but still held one as he guided me to where the bathrooms were, situated at the end of a long hallway. “Wait here, don’t get too many men drooling over you.” Once he disappeared into the men’s room, I let out a breath. He was overwhelming, equal parts sweet, filthy, and ridiculous. The last thing I wanted to do was be responsible. To go home and ignore all the things he made me feel. I had already gone too far, what were a couple more steps? I bit at my thumb nail and watched the bathrooms intently. I didn’t see any women come or go into theirs. I scanned the bar and only found a handful of them. I knew I would have it mostly to myself.

Cautiously, as if I was somehow breaking a law, I walked down and into the women’s bathroom. It was empty, mostly clean, and smelled fine. Which I’m sure is more than I could say about the men’s. I propped myself against the wall in the hallway, waiting for Wade to emerge again. Two men passed before I saw him. “Aw, I don’t need an escort out of this creepy hallway.” I roughly grabbed his shirt, and backed into the still empty bathroom. “Oh wow, the promised land.”

I slammed him against the door, far too rough from nerves, but his face lit up nevertheless, a little excited laugh escaping him. “How about you show me those skills you talked about, yeah? Consider this a trial period before I let you fuck my brains out.” He didn’t need to be told twice. He hauled my body tight against his, lips crashing against mine again. This time, I gave into his kisses completely, his teeth tugging at my lips. There was a pinch of pain each time but it only made me claw at his neck harder. Judging by the groan he let out, I think I broke through skin. His tongue prodded its way into my mouth and I moaned loudly against him. His hands slid all over my body before they hooked behind my knees and he carried me to the counter. He lifted me like I weighed nothing. My head was beginning to grow fuzzy from our kiss but I refused to part, greedily sucking air from him instead.

Wade was the first to rear back, gulping down lungfuls of air. I wanted to drag him back and kiss him till I was lightheaded again. “Goddamn woman,” he mumbled. I just hummed, moving my desperate kisses to his jaw. My hands crawled up his shirt and littered his torso with scratches. He leaned closer, my head hitting the mirror behind me, as he gripped my hips and dragged me flush against him. My legs curled around his waist, craving the feeling of his hard cock against me.

“Wade,” I whined while I ground my hips against his. I found a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear that made him rasp my name. He cupped the back of my neck, leading me back to his greedy mouth. His thumb brushed along my jaw before his fingers delicately laid across my throat. I arched my neck to give his hand better access to the column of muscle. But his hands slipped from me entirely so he could shove my shirt over my breasts. He buried his face between them, peppering the skin with long, sucking kisses. “ Wade,” I moaned, hips bucking desperately against him, “I need you to fuck me.” His hand went to my jeans, pulling the button free and easing the zipper down. I yelped when his teeth captured a bit of flesh and bit down, hard . But the sting of pain only made me crave him more. Finally his hand plunged under my jeans and into my underwear.

“So wet all ready,” he hummed, biting at more of my skin. He drifted over my clit in loose, but firm circles. With his free hand, he worked the cup of my bra down and captured my nipple in his mouth. I thursted against his hand in an attempt to get him to do more, to bend me over this sink and fuck me like I knew he wanted to. Instead, he traced the tip of his finger over my entrance and had the nerve to chuckle when I tried to force it inside.

“ Jesus, Wade , stop teasing me.” My voice was airy, tinged with desire. His teeth glanced across my nipple and I nearly wailed. “Wade!” My nails went to his head and dug into his scalp, heels digging into his ass in annoyance.

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl.” His finger drove into me, pumping in and out quickly. He sucked one last bruise onto the top of my breast before he was kissing and licking back up my neck.

“ More , Wade,” I panted, “you aren’t going to break me.” He laughed, the sound sending goosebumps across my feverish skin. Another finger worked its way into me and my eyes rolled back at the stretch, a sigh catching in my throat. His thumb moved into more controlled figure eights. My legs trembled around him as he crooked his fingers inside, hunting for that spongy spot inside me. “Wade, oh fuck.”

“God you moan so nice for daddy Wade.” Something between a laugh and a sob of pleasure bubbled up from my chest. Heat oozed through my body, settled deep in my stomach.

“I’m not gonna call you that. Ah, keeping doing that, so good.”

“Are you going to call Logan daddy when he makes you wiggle like this?” He found his mark and stroked the spot deep inside me with complete focus. My hips bore down on his hand, chasing for the orgasm I sensed. “ Aww seems like you like the idea. You’re sucking me in so much.” He bit more bruises on my neck, tongue lapping at the skin after to soothe the ache. “I can’t wait to see you stretched on his big dick.”

I whimper, the tension inside me near breaking point. “Yours first.” The coil finally snapped. My eyes squeezed shut as a stream of his name and half gasps fell from my chapped lips. His free hand pinned my hip to the counter to stop its wild jerks. He scattered soft kisses across my face and cheeks as he worked me through my orgasm. It seemed to last an eternity and the waves of bliss made my body tingly.

Eventually, my body relaxed and slumped against the mirror, chest heaving. Wade’s fingers remained in me, lazily plunging inside. Now that the haze had passed, I could hear just how wet I was. The lewd noises echo off the cramped bathroom’s tiles. “Wade,” I mumbled, tugging weakly at his wrist. “You should get to fucking me now.”

“ Ew , how about you guys don’t. Do you know how dirty it is in here?” I jumped at the voice, scrambling to cover myself. Wade shifted himself to block me from view as I did. His fingers withdrew with a pop that made my face heat even more. The woman idly scrolled on her phone to give us privacy. My bra was fixed, shirt back over my chest, in record time.

Wade was fine to let us wait it seemed. His sticky fingers lingered on my stomach, running over the curves and stretch marks, before he buttoned up my pants. “Okay sugar bean, let’s get you home.” He helped me off the counter, my weak legs wobbling just a bit. He kept his firm arm around me for support anyways. I had half a mind to think it was just to keep touching me. I didn’t mind and leaned into his side, head against his chest.

The night was cool, the slight bite of oncoming autumn in the crisp air, and I breathed it in. My head felt clearer with each one. I went to pull away first, to tell him that I would see him on Monday, but he kept walking. “Where are we going?”

“Gonna take you home.” I blinked.

“How do you know this is the way to my place?” He made a noncommittal noise and shrugged.

“Is some light stalking a turn off?” I knew I was crazy, absolutely insane, because all I did was beam up at him and cling closer. We made our way to my apartment in long winding segments. First the train where he pulled my legs over his and kissed at my wind whipped cheeks. Then a stop at a late night burger chain where Wade promptly drowned his in ketchup. We walked slowly to my apartment, hand in hand. Exhaustion had finally reached me and my feet dragged behind me. The night had only grown colder, breath misting in front of our faces. I was wearing a light jacket as I anticipated being home before the drop in temperature. I drew Wade’s arm closer, pressing it against my chest, clinging to the bit of heat. “You know, if we were both naked you would be warmer.” I rolled my eyes.

“That’s absolutely not how that works. Also, my place is just around the corner.” We only had to walk a few more steps before I saw the familiar entrance to my apartment. Wade followed me to my door, leaning against the rail, waiting for me to fish my keys out of my purse. Once I had them in hand, I also tugged my phone from my pocket. “I don’t have your number.” I oddly felt shy, like this was too much of a leap. It felt more official like this. When I held it out for him, he took it eagerly, fingers tapping quickly. Then he kept typing. I peered down at my phone and saw him adding information for Asshole GILF, surrounded by an assortment of hearts. Quite frankly, I didn’t even know Logan had a phone, I had never seen him with it.

My stomach dropped when I saw Wade open a conversation with Logan and began typing. I was only able to read the words horny and get it up before I snatched my phone back. “Oh my god Wade!” I rapidly deleted the text, refusing to read anymore of his nonsense sexting. “I would prefer Logan to not think I’m trying to jump his bones.”

“Aw come on! Live a little. Logan loves people who come on too strong, especially on his face.”

“I think you are probably the exception, Wade. Logan doesn’t seem to want much to do with me.” His cold palms cupped my cheeks and drew me closer.

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, just you and me, yeah?” I nod, arms encircling his waist. The warmth of his chest spread into mine. “Logan dreams about you. He growls your name. He humps me in his sleep like a teenage boy. Then he wakes up and fucks me for hours.” My face heated at his words. I could feel him getting hard against my hip. “He wants you so bad it makes him crazy.” He pushed against me, just the slightest bit. “ I want you so bad it makes me crazy.” I realized that I never repaid the favor at the bar before being interrupted.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Wade smirked, kissing the apples of each cheek then my nose.

“No, I’m gonna surprise Logan. He’ll go nuts when he smells you on me.” I blinked in confusion. I didn’t smell that bad, did it? “He has enhanced senses,” he explained. “He’ll be able to smell your cum on my fingers from outside the apartment.”

“Oh god,” I mumbled, stuck between embarrassment and arousal. “Okay, well, don’t keep Al up.”

“She has ear muffs.” I shook my head, chuckling at the absurdity. Wade pecked at my lips but didn’t allow me more. “Goodnight baby girl. Make sure you text me so I know who you are. So many crazy fangirls, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Uh huh,” I teased, finding the key fob for my building. Wade left one lingering kiss on my forehead before giving me a nudge toward my door. The scanner beeped, door releasing with a click. I wedged the door open before it could lock again. “Goodnight, see you Monday.” I blew him a kiss before the door clicked behind me as I went to the elevator. I reached for my phone and searched for Wade in my contact list. Of course I found him listed as Bootycall . Instead of solely hearts, his name was circled by eggplants and hearts.

Me: you have to send me a picture for your profile. I could have missed you

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. I traced my usual route to my apartment, jiggling the lock open with my key. My phone buzzed on the counter as I set it down to toe off my shoes and hang my coat up.

Bootycall: once I’m done with Logan, I’ll send pictures for the both of us.

Bootycall: Do you have other fuckbuddies? How could you? We should be the only ones for you

I woke up late the next day to two pictures. One was blurry, but the brown hair and a pointy white tooth told me it was Logan. It seemed Wade had tried to sneak it and was caught. The picture of Wade nearly made me faint. Pearly white beads of cum were splattered across his face and dripped off his exposed tongue.

Me: I can’t possibly make that your contact picture

Bootycall: you’re right! Make it your background!

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girlyteeth · 2 years ago

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Let's Talk About Girly-Kei Substyle Names!

Since this style has been gaining some popularity in j-fashion communities, I wanted to do a small lesson on how to refer to different styles of girly-kei. I've noticed some strange names being assigned to this style, and I want to clear up any misunderstandings people may have about these terms.

There are many labels people put on this fashion style, but for some reason it's anything but girly. It's understandable how some terms could be mistaken for the name of the fashion, especially since some stereotypes associated with these styles have heavily contributed to the wrong terminology being used. Examples of terms that have been associated with girly-kei are... Ryousangata: (meaning a "mass-produced" type of person, who's heavily involved in wota culture) J*rai-kei: (a stereotype referring to an emotionally unstable person who "explodes like a landmine".) Subcul: (It used to have the meaning of "poser" in Japan, but nowadays it is used to refer to any type of alternative fashion. While this one is more harmless, it doesn't do any good to refer to a style that already has a name as just "subcul fashion")

In the girly-kei community, we label these colour combos a bit similarly to lolita substyles. So, let's name some some girly styles that have been getting popular! Sweet Girly: This style consists of sweeter elements, such as ruffles, bows, hearts, and cute prints. Sometimes, you can find sweet girly sweaters with plushie embroidery! Bijou details are also popular with this style, as the jewels seem to compliment the overall cuteness of these outfits!

Dark Girly: This style focuses on more darker/edgier elements, and these outfits seem to have a more gothic look to it. Characteristics such as chains, leather, and religious imagery can be found in this substyle. Despite the name of this substyle, the clothes don't need to have a dark colour palette. Just as long as they fit the criteria!

French Girly: This style is meant to resemble a more European style of fashion! This elegant style also maintains a sense of simplicity, as their silhouettes and designs tend to be neat. As you can see, berets are especially popular in this substyle, but other accessories such as pearls, gold jewelry, and hairbands are also used in these outfits.

I find that among girly discourse, some argue that "girly-kei" is way too broad of a term, but that's where you can have fun with your outfits! It's not a requirement to specifically adhere to a certain substyle when wearing girly-kei fashion, and honestly just wear what makes you happy! A lot of these substyles can overlap as a result, which can create pretty cool outfits!

Referring to these substyles by their proper name not only sounds nicer, but it can help erase stigma around wearing girly fashion as a whole.

If you wish to read about more substyles such as otona girly, retro girly, himekaji (yes, even the gyaru substyle can be considered girly!) and casual girly, there is a more detailed list of all the different substyles in their aesthetics section! Thank you for reading <3

#girly kei #terminology lesson #sweet girly #dark girly #the graphic was very fun to make and maybe I'll start making these types of illustrations more :)#girly discourse #retro girly #french girly #girly fashion #me posting after 100000 years

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absentwriterdoll · 9 months ago

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896

C:"896, signal lost."

...

W:"896, still active."

C:"896, copy."

I can feel the hydraulics straining as I push against the controls.

As ever, if the reactor is still intact, it's not a confirmed kill.

The display shifts from dirt to the horizon.

Tracers streak across the sky.

H:[Warning. Internal bleeding detected.]

I can feel as much.

I scan my HUD.

Right side, lost. Left shoulder, depleted. Left arm at 35%. Left hip at 10%. Point defense at 20%, 45%, 30%, 10% respectively.

I sigh.

It hurts.

Even if I wanted to, there's not much more that I can do.

W:"896, munitions depleted, heavy damage sustained. Requesting permission to withdraw."

C:"896, granted."

W:"Harry, plot a course home."

H:[Acknowledged.]

I notice my point defense lighting up at far-off infantry.

I swap them to critical only. With this damage, I'll need the cover in case another mech realizes I'm still alive.

H:[Course plotted.]

W:"Send it."

I feel my legs shift under me - but I keep my eyes on the horizon, my weapons pointed toward the enemy battleline. A wounded mech is always a primary target.

Two missiles streak out from the infantry I saw earlier - nothing my point defense can't handle. Though, for good measure, I send a few rounds their way.

Everything hurts.

H:[Administering stimulant.]

A sharp sting in my neck - just a prelude to the pain lessening.

At least, in a minute or two, anyway.

Part of me wonders how much I could leave to the onboard AI. It already calculates most of the firing solutions.

My role is just selecting a target and pulling the trigger.

But it always has to be a human pulling a trigger.

Otherwise...

It becomes a question of when the AI starts deciding who is worth pulling the trigger on.

Can't let it start deciding who lives and who dies.

Best case scenario, it turns on its makers.

Worst case scenario, things devolve into a forever war.

…

Who’s to say that this isn’t a forever war already.

A mech raises itself on the horizon.

And I begin loosing rounds downrange.

My missing mass causes most of my fire to go wide initially.

A series of flashes.

And I react.

A round strikes me - but it’s off center.

Better than the alternative.

But my left hip doesn’t respond. I’m nearly defenseless.

W:“896, requesting support, relaying target.”

H:[Relaying target.]

It’s nearly all I can do to hope for the best.

M:“512, responding.”

H:[Radar lock detected.]

Tracers light up the mech from its side, causing it to buckle and flare - right as it looses a fusillade of missiles from one of its shoulder pods.

My point defense lights up, as does those of 512’s.

One zeroes out. I turn my hull to expose Three and Four.

Four zeroes out.

But Two and Three manage to clear the air with 512’s help.

10% and 5%.

W:“896, permission to request cover.”

C:“896, granted. Assigning 512.”

M:”512, moving to cover 896.”

W:“896, thank you.”

An unnecessary communication slips from me.

But it’s the truth.

I should be dead.

But I’m not.

C:“512, signal lost.”

In the corner of my eye, I see 512 light up - and vanish into fire.

And I see the one that did it.

I loose rounds from my left arm - until it clacks empty.

And I hope to whatever gods may be listening that it doesn’t get back up.

Their reactor is still intact. It’s not a confirmed kill.

W:“896, relaying target, requesting kill confirm.”

A few moments pass - and then tracers streak in from afar.

Then a detonation.

L:“288, confirmed.”

W:“896, acknowledged.”

C:“288, cover 896’s retreat.”

L:“288, copy.”

In silence, I think my gratitude.

Part of me wonders if I should just withdraw on foot.

I glance at Harry’s AI core.

It would be a simple matter of-

L:“896, bogey.”

W:“896, munitions, defenses depleted, ejecting.”

H:[Radar lock detected.]

W:“Eject.”

H:[Ejecting. Give them hell.]

I pull Harry’s AI core.

And I’m launched into the air.

Tracers from the point defense flash out below me - until both remaining guns zero out. In the air, I release myself from my seat and spark my jumpjets.

Below me, my mech detonates.

On the horizon, I watch 288 engage the enemy.

288 closes with the bogey, tracers streaking between the two, maneuver jets flaring.

288 manages to get behind the bogey and tears the reactor core out - tossing it and firing a round at it before turning its attention back to the dying remains of the mech -

And slaughters the remainder.

I reach the ground.

I take a deep breath.

Thank Harry for the stimulant.

Thank 288 for the cover.

And run.

=====

Cast in order of appearance:

C - Control, the battalion’s handler. Used to be a pilot.

W - William, 896’s pilot. The most experienced pilot in the battalion.

H - Harry, 896’s AI. Leaves a copy of itself onboard when 896 ejects.

M - Maya, 512’s pilot. Relatively inexperienced. A rookie that tried to fill bigger shoes.

L - Liam, 288’s pilot. A vicious warfighter, leaving nothing to chance.

=====

Inspired by Armored Core VI and The Forever Winter.

#empty spaces #fantasy #fiction #microfiction #writing #everyday doll #mechposting #mechs #pilots #science fiction #scifi

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lua-magic · 1 year ago

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Self Development and Astrology( Vedic Astrology).

There are four main important houses in Astrology called as "Kendra house" ie one, four, seven and ten.

Rest all other houses are supporting houses.

First 🏠 house, is the house of self and personality. Sun is exalted in first house, because Sun is soul, so if you know your weakness and strength and work on your body regularly ( as Mars has lordship of first house) then no outside enemy can defeat you. And if your body is in good state then you can enjoy all the pleasures of the world..

Fourth house The most important house, once you get defeated emotionaly then nothing can help you, it is said, once, you loose emotionally you loose everything in life

So never depend Emotionally on anyone. Never give control of your emotional body to any one.

Jupiter is exalted in fourth house, because even if you loose everything in life but hold on to your morality, you will get everything in life again.

For native who has their Jupiter in two, six, four and ten it is better if you go in work related to Jupiter like counselling, and teaching, spirituality, and work related to religion.

Next house which is important is seventh House, is house of your focus and attention .

This house tells you, where you give your focus that area will expand, also tells you focus on your partnership or network, because your network is your networth, you finally become like the person with whom you spend most time with

Next house is your house of Karma, or the tenth house If you know what work makes you happy or you do what you enjoy,then you are the most carefree and happy person.

Tenth house is opposite to fourth house, it means, once you work hard, fourth house related things like luxury and comfort will come to you easily.

If you have Mercury in 10th house or fourth house, then would get success when you involve in communication, speech or develop some kind of skill

If you have Venus in fourth or tenth then it is better you do work related to cosmetics, luxury, apparels, textile.

If you have SUN in fourth or tenth then it is better you work alone and independent. You can be good politician as well

If you have Moon in fourth or in tenth then you can get involved in food related job, or in psychology or get in job which has traveling..

Mars in second or in tenth house, then involve in land, property, house, real estate, or in Army, police or in sports. Such natives have so much of energy when someone assigns them task they will finish it fast.

Saturn eighth or in tenth house, should take work as their service,they can go in politics, or in service related industry, here Saturn will give you success slowly with time .

If your tenth lord is in first house, then do work related to self improvement and your body, such natives are great and can achieve alot in their career on their own.

Tenth lord second house, do work with your family, or related to speech and cooking.

Tenth lord in third house, do work related to skill development, sports, with siblings, media, communication, commission.

Tenth lord in fourth are extremely good, because person would get all luxurious and comfort by his work. You can work for masses, also home related job or service.

Tenth lord in fifth is also good, you can go in teaching and learning.

Tenth lord in sixth, you can work in charity, for pets, as doctors, healers, health workers, as auditor.

Tenth lord in seventh, it is better to go for business.

Tenth lord in eighth, research, soy, insurance, Bank, occult, astrology.

Tenth lord in ninth, good, you can go in counselling, teaching spirituality, religious work

Tenth lord in tenth is good, you are hard working and can work in any job.

Tenth lord in eleventh, you can work as free Lancer, create multiple source of income, work in social media

Tenth lord in twelfth, you can work in foreign country, or in foreign company, MNCs, import export, hospital, yoga, meditation.

One, four, Sven and ten are actual spine of your chart and you need to constantly work in these houses, rest all houses are by product.

#vedic astrology #spirituality #astrology #astro observations #astro community

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cafulur · 10 months ago

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Modern Personal Assistant Labru AU ✨📋🐉

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- Laios is a renown animal/monster expert (not sure yet if this is modern as in no monsters or just a modern version of their realm w/ monsters included)

- he does most of his research independently, occasionally working alongside small groups of other scientists

- a new animal species / monster mutation emerges that completely captures the world’s and Laios’s interest. As one of the top zoologists / monsterologists in the nation, he gets requested to head the first ever research on this unknown creature.

- something about this species is so bizarre that in addition to studying it, Laios is suddenly also having to do press conferences to explain to the masses wtf is going on.

- … except he kind of can’t. the first time he gets on the mic in front of a bunch of people, one reporter asks if there is concern for reproduction as we’ve only found two females of the species. Laios goes on a 20 minute rant about the egg laying process they recently discovered and how according to x-rays of the eggs they do not require a mate to reproduce but appear to still seek and thrive off of community. A conference that should’ve had enough time to answer dozens of questions ends with him only have answered two and a half, as he greatly struggled to be succinct and not derail into mile long explanations. But to Laios, every detail counts!! They’re all important pieces to the puzzle!

- his boss pulls him aside— “listen, you’re the only person on the planet at the moment who has the most knowledge about this thing. if you’re going to also be it’s’ spokesperson, you need to handle your PR better and read the room. we’ve assigned you an assistant to help with any future public appearances.

- enter Kabru, works in public relations, usually political, and is all too comfortable with addressing the masses. local elections just ended and so as a PR specialist he’s being assigned unconventional work by his management company during this downtime, which includes a rambly scientist with zero social cues or ability to read the room.

- Kabru sits down with Laios at a café a few days before the next conference and they run through a little practice session. Kabru clears his throat and acts as a reporter.

- “So, Mr. Touden, how long do you expect the research to go on for before we know if we can integrate this species into our local environments? Is it even safe for us to be near them?”

- “it’s not a question on whether or not it’s safe for us but whether or not it’s safe for them. they seem to be flighty little guys, and don’t even agitate or fight when provoked. but something about the oils from human skin damages their feathers, they have almost the same texture and composition as paper. it’s really fascinating actually, they somehow appear to be resistant to water but our oils break them down very quickly, and so we’re thinking they might thrive better on reserves people can’t access. but that’s also not exactly ideal due their apparent difficultly living in captivity and small spaces, as well as the potential need to migrate. closing off their environment may actually—“

- Kabru knows deep, deep down in his heart of hearts that he needs to cut the man off right then and there, show him how he could be more concise and clear with his words, and maybe not ramble so much. but Laios is positively glowing with both wonder and genuine concern for this creature, and Kabru cannot help but be completely captivated.

#love these fools….. silly silly fools….#i know it’s not a classic PR scenario but idk i can’t imagine laois needing it for anything else #or PA whatever #i have no idea what im saying half the time but it makes sense in my brain :>#kabru #laios touden #labru #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #danmeshi #dungeon food #modern au #PA au #laios x kabru #writing

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bladekindeyewear · 6 months ago

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Murder Drones - Homestuck Classes/Aspects

The eighth and final episode of this independent-animation Youtube series came out just over two weeks ago (MUCH longer than that by the time I ever finish this draft post, oh god it's been three months), and after having binged through it and a bunch of reactions TO it and bonus details / theory content, I couldn't resist coming up with Hero Titles for all the main characters based on the Homestuck Classes and Aspects system I've spent so much time helping analyze.

Please note that THE MAJORITY OF WHAT IS UNDER THE CUT IS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES. Please do NOT click the read-more and spoil yourself on one of the better triumphs of indie animation I've seen (in my biased perspective), from Glitch Productions, the studio making The Amazing Digital Circus. Watch the first minute or two of Episode 1 right now instead (or if you can hold on, at LEAST until the end of Episode 2 which is much higher quality and sets the tone for the rest better), and if you're not hooked by the dark comedy, relentless pause-bonuses and lampshadey character writing that (though it's not for everyone) I promise only gets better FAST as the episodes continue and an actual mystery unfolds, then just ignore this post and come back some other time if you ever decide to finish watching the series. I'll be justifying my takes in detail and listing very spoilery twists and concepts below the cut, so this is all I can give you of my opinions before spoiling anything, because I can't even list all the characters and the most interesting classpects without giving away things you're better off watching all eight episodes before seeing. Have a first taste, the rest is under the cut if you've finished Murder Drones:

Uzi - Witch of Void

N - Heir of Hope

V - Knight of Mind

J - Maid of Doom

Oh you're under the cut now? Time to list the OTHER characters before I go in depth on each!

Doll - Witch of Space

CYN - Thief of Heart (ascended, with heavy Page of Mind duality having mastered her role)

The Solver of the Absolute Fabric - Muse of Void (the true enemy, the unknown eldritch entity/program who seduced CYN with an explicit Choice and is potentially driving the universe itself towards the Big Crunch while relentlessly fueling itself with planetary mass!)

UZI DOORMAN - Witch (or Knight?) of Void

"Easy, morons. It doesn't work... yet! It doesn't work yet. Who said it doesn't work, maybe it does!" (Uzi flicks the [railgun's] switch and laughs evilly.)

"The humans sent you without a communication relay and reformatted your memories to soup. Covering their tracks means they're past negotiating."

TEACHER: "Uzi, give Braden back his sentience." BRADEN (controlled): "Bite me-- her! I started it, and also, I'm dumb." *Head bursts into flames.*

"My crazed ramblings! Stay outta my freaking room!"

N: "Before we met, scary stuff was actually... pretty scary. And tonight too, 'cause you weren't with me to make it fun, somehow."

"I am a ghost witch! And I'm tall. Heheheh."

"Important hacking going on!"

N and V's displays: "ADMIN [CYN] OVERRIDE... [100%] -- ASSIGNING PERMS :// USER ID: DARKXWOLF17 ROLE: ADMIN"

"Nobody traumatizes these weirdly hot robots but me!"

"I think dumb things are super cool, and I - AM - FREE!!!"

Okay, Uzi's hero title was one of the toughest to nail down. I kept having doubts at every turn, trying out alternatives, so let me try to dismiss those doubts/alternatives for you the same way I did for myself.

Rage? It might capture some of her edgelordiness and her attraction to the terrifying, but there's a venn diagram overlap between plenty of aspects, and the one between Rage and Void is filled in liberally here. What Rage doesn't fully account for is how Uzi always goes for the tastes and options that everyone else is dismissing, how she serves as an ignored champion, how she embraces how others in darkness can be good instead of just embracing darkness, and how she isn't as defined by her rebellion against optimism or fear as by her rebellion against those who would own her, how she refuses to submit her agency and controls the submission of others, as per the Agency/Submission axis of the Light/Void spectrum and a Witch's dominion of controlling and manipulating that difference.

Knight? It's extremely tempting to write off all the Witch mentions and imagery as funny coincidence while focusing on how she actually mostly weaponizes the power, but I again focus on how much of her personal journey is about control as an edgy teenager, by her parents, by society, by her own powers, the statement always shaking her free being the declaration that "YOU DON'T OWN ME!", combined with the skillful Witchy way she wrests control of the submission built into N and V and draws out the secrets she needs especially in Episode 5, and eventually projects control over even the Solver power's original owner. The Knight is the class that exploits and weaponizes the aspect, leaping through loopholes like a sword dance. The Witch is the class which controls, changes, and manipulates the aspect, grasping and shaping it like clay between their hands.

And so while I leave you to be free to believe Uzi is a Knight if you still want, I would contend that the title that best embodies her throughout the series and her journey to self-actualization is that of a Witch of Void. Void players are almost always attracted to that which repels and confuses others. Uzi is a girl obsessed with ideas that are dark and rejected and unpopular, the scary and misunderstood, enamored with the creepy and destructive and monstrous and vampiric (the Disassembly / Murder Drones are obvious Vampire analogues with their bat-like blood-drinking, wings and sleeping upside down, sunlight weakness, staking them through the Heart being the only way to keep them from regenerating, the "Bite Me" phrase, and is also reflected in how the Solver curse breaks mirrors that vampires classically cannot be seen in). She delves into secrets, mastering her control over unknown powers and advantages episode by episode. She rebels against control, everyone and everything constantly urging her to Submit like a Void player tempted to alcohol, and instead seeks Control and agency for herself and everyone she comes to care about while subjugating the enemy. She shares many classical Void player tropes-- a hacker controlling others, even manipulating submission by freeing N and V by rewriting HERSELF as their system administrator in Cyn's place so her instructions could no longer puppet them. Her main weapons are an energy rifle (railgun) like Roxy, unarmed combat like Roxy and Equius (Void because you wield Nothing), the reality manipulating powers of the Solver wielded like a Witch including the almighty [NULL] command of black-hole-like deletion creating voids in space that not even Doll attempted, and finally a weapon inherited from her very similar mother: A pickaxe, a tool classically used to unearth things from the depths. I couldn't pick a more varied and fitting arsenal for a Witch of Void.

Her ultimate battlecry in the final episode is essentially I am cringe but I am free, fitting for any Void player, and she completes her journey by refusing to be Controlled or submit her agency to any but those she trusts most, and in fact subsuming Control of the reality-warping power and individual who most sought to control her and everyone else, becoming its master, and yet submitting somewhat to the way of life of the worker drones and her classmates living in their underground bunker. "And yep, that's how I learned nightmares are real, and we probably should have stayed behind the ol' doors! And that maybe I don't actually hate it here. As much."

DOLL - Witch of Space

"Как мило, но мне твоя помощь не нужна." ("Cute, but I don't need help.")

Doll: "Я не позволю ему использовать меня, чтобы поглотить планету! (I will not let it use me to consume the planet!)" Tessa: "Hmm... Not sure it needs you, buddy."

The supernatural reality-editing power known as the Absolute Solver normally has four known functions, each with their own symbols: Translate (move), Scale (crush/expand), Rotate, and Edit, not counting the [null] command that only comes with a direct connection as one of the Solver's main hosts. Doll exhibits more comprehensive control of these spatial-manipulating abilities and their versatility than even CYN! She repositions/teleports herself at will, not only spatially manipulates objects but uses Edit to replicate them (an act of Creation we never see CYN or Uzi pull), and refuses to relinquish control of any situation she's involved in unless forced to retreat and watch from the shadows, warping around between the targets she's observing like a ghost. And the whole time, she follows a very Aradia-reminiscent ghost girl schtick.

Specifically, the way Aradia acted and the powers she used while inverted to a Bard of Space! The way Aradia behaves after her god-tier resurrection as an ascended Maid of Time hardly resembles Doll's behavior at all! It lines up surprisingly perfectly.

Thematically, Murder Drones doesn't really follow the "Space/Time = Creation/Destruction" axis association very much, unlike many other works of fiction that quite prominently do. Freed from that obligation in this framework, Doll can act as a Witch of Space even more blatantly destructive and active than Grimbark Jade Harley, making the crucial mistake of trying to tackle and control a problem all by herself that she had no actual hope of overcoming alone. One of the most active classes there is, a Witch is often tempted by their role to take ALL the control for themselves, and usually pays for it.

Gosh, isn't it satisfying to see what it'd be like for a Witch of Space to fully use her powers in close-quarters combat?! What a fantastic display.

N - Golden Retriever Heir of Hope

"Sure! I love doing anything!"

CYN: "You know, you're one of the main reasons I wanted your team to retain your personalities. You always surprised me. Loved doing... anything."

"[After having a hand shoved in his mouth, nervously reassuring, clearly not having enjoyed it.] Sweet! Uh, I'm open to new things, I guess."

"(To V) I'm so, so sorry. Have fun repressing this!" Licks V's sword, revolting her and making her lose her grip.

With the easy way N makes friends with absolutely everyone, including the viewer, you'd think he'd perhaps be somewhere on the Blood aspect, such as an Heir of Blood like the Mayor-- but the specific WAY that N makes friends so easily is important, and very reminiscent of Jake in his Page of Hope role. He consistently completely defies everyone's impressions and expectations of him, the contrast winning them over in mere moments-- he takes the SIDE of those deliberately against him, giving advice to them and wanting them to be happy even as they're literally trying to dissect him. He's unbelievably optimistic and almost always open to EVERYONE the moment they aren't completely terrifying him. He opens himself up to everything even more than Jake does.

And more importantly to the nuance of his role and how skilled he is with it: He takes in the weird ideas of others, no matter how offball or repellent, and consistently redeploys them in new contexts to his advantage. Like using the idea of how revolted he was at Uzi sticking her hand in his mouth to lick V's sword to get her to disengage. Like taking in the reasons Uzi gave him to rebel against authority in Episode 1 and readily deploying a full rationale based on them against his superior officer J. Like when he took Uzi's language of how he and Uzi "just kinda, like, hang out a lot <3" to throw the oddball of him and Uzi dating as the most IMPOSSIBLE to imagine method to finally snap Uzi out of being controlled out of romantic embarrassment while making her mother even more motivated to finish her daughter's smackdown. An Heir is the passive counterpart to a Witch, making N theoretically the nexus through which Hope flows and is manipulated and changed in himself and others. He changes others' perceptions of what is possible. His very belief in others and the optimism he pours into them changes them, changing V, even in her memory visions with the remark about golden retrievers' gentle mouths.

A Hope player can also expect to be challenged by a test of Rage, and fear is constantly what keeps N penned in and a defining character trait he repeatedly encounters. Two SPECIFIC challenges he faced and had to conquer were Rage challenges, which made him adopt a split "O_X" face the ONLY TWO TIMES he did so in the series to show the conflict between the need to murder or cut short contrasted with the need to look for hope, where he felt he had to align himself AGAINST the breadth of possibilities and optimism to do something drastic that would cut all possibility short by dealing death:

Episode 1, threatening Uzi: "I'm sorry. I really enjoyed our time together, but I can't have you shooting V with that thing."

Episode 7, threatening Tessa: "You knew about the patch. Yes, or no? One. Chance."

V - Stray Cat Knight of Mind

"The humans programmed us to solve a problem. Where's proof of your backstory? The one where your kind's so conveniently innocent?"

"Uh, exactly. We show up fabulous, the sad purple one lets us in, cause she has no friends, we kill everyone, and pop her little head off."

"…Promise me you and that purple thing will stop prying into that stuff. If you free me now, I promise we'll only kill what we need to survive. Just you and me, N…" (Glancing meaningfully to make N look at the key to her chains... which we learned beforehand she was secretly already free from, even though she honestly wanted N to agree to this.)

N: "Uh… V, if you're hiding something, we can figure it out together. Even if we each only have pieces. Please, what do you know-" (V slices his head off.) V: "What's best for you. Even if you hate me for it."

"Yes, best friends. So easily manipulated…"

"I'll.. kill everyone.. after [giving a prom queen speech]? It's not vain, it's... extra sinister…" (Making excuses to convince herself.)

(Manipulating Uzi to stay stop stealing N's attention away from her--) "Better to stay distant, though. Don'tcha think? (She looks over at Uzi's backpack.) Since I'll have to kill you next? (She scratches Uzi's (solver) eye and prepares to leave.) N's made friends with rocks, by the way. He'll move on just fine."

"We do our jobs, and that thing leaves us alone!"

CYN: "Do your job, and I leave you and N alone. Right, V?"

(Yes, in case you didn't notice, N is a dog and V is a cat. It's incredibly obvious in retrospect, right down to V hissing. (See this meme that isn't mine, and in V's case food is ALSO murder.) )

V play-acts a madwoman's façade from the very beginning to disguise her goals. From the very beginning, she REMEMBERS enough of her past to commit to the deal she explicitly made with Cyn-- she does her job, and Cyn will leave N alone, leave V and N together. She offers falsehoods and doubts, fights viciously to get away with what she wants within the confines of any agreements she makes (even the one with Cyn), willing to use any façade as a weapon and exploit every decision, to fuck with other's heads to advance her goals and keep others the hell out of her OWN head. She loves the images she throws her whole self into projecting, even loving the false ones, and how each disturbs others or earns her praise. She's a surprisingly nuanced, entertaining, and practically quintessential Knight of Mind!

J - Maid of Doom

"Way to go, stud. The company's gonna love this. With this colony wiped, we'll make top team this quarter, for sure. You know what that means… Branded pens~!"

"Noted, traitor. We'll circle back after I right-size your existence!"

"Sorry, boss. Corporate's spoken."

Tessa: (Overdramatic) "It wants paid time off… To attend UUUNION NEGOTIATIOOOONS!" J: (Finally at her limit) "THIS IS AN UNRELATED LAYOFF!"

"It tricked you. If I promised you anything… It tricked me, too."

"You know there's no escape, even in death!"

This one's pretty open and shut, her motivations and personality are pretty straightforward in this story. J is a drone comically obsessed with the strictures of Bureaucracy and enforcing the authority of capitalists downward against labor. She obeys hierarchy, and sacrifices whatever she might think is fair or right for the leash of whoever's on top. Doom is the aspect of Order, sacrifice, anxiety, constraints, and in some ways Anti-Life. Corporate bureaucracy is the perfect analogue, as the Condesce and Jane Crocker have long proven, and J is a wellspring of that corrosive essence who Serves and spreads it.

I could see some arguments for Blood based on the focus on chains and obligations and destruction enacted/invited unto Blood, but those mostly fall into the venn-diagram overlap and her obsession with obeying the TOP of the hierarchy to the exclusion of the bottom, with cooperation only within the strictures of the rules of those "above", aligns her much stronger with the Life/Doom dichotomy than the Blood references. Sollux and Karkat were best friends for a reason, Blood and Doom can be pretty tight.

CYN - Thief of Heart (Fully Realized!)

"More like you are our cute puppets. It hurts our feelings you don't remember us." (Creates a hologram of Nori, Uzi's mother.)

"Easier to assimilate than explain."

"Giggle. I am so naughty. The flesh demands invitation."

Tessa: "Cyn! If that little butler dies for your sake, I swear!" Cyn: (Playing with dolls) "Mm. I have.. backups."

"You will not have to discard your pets, and I will not discard you. Best stay away from the gala, though. You seem squeamish."

Manipulating N as Tessa: "When we get to the labs and find that list, I'll need you to choose the universe over one little drone, N. Before she's not herself anymore..."

"Thanks for the new host… intern."

"You know, you're one of the main reasons.. I wanted your team to retain your personalities."

"Thanks for clearing the way on this planet, too. Let's eat."

"That's really sweet, big brother. Too bad you've served.. your purpose. Don't worry. Your backups will forgive me."

"I see. You will not talk to me because I have hurt… your feelings." (Mimes her finger down her cheek like a tear, grinning.)

"Okay. You first, eager beaver. Heeheehee." (She begins clawing at N's chest.) "Let me in. Let me in. Let me in. Let me in. LetmeinLetmeinLetmein"

CYN, I can say with some certainty as someone with autism which her primary personality and mannerisms mimic, is profoundly her own weird self and behaves VERY obviously differently from everyone around her, physically and vocally... unless she's roleplaying other people! If you have autism too there's a good chance you can relate to the roleplaying aspect of this. We don't even know what Tessa's classpect would really be, because she was just mimicking her the entire time, part of why this had to be under the cut. She convincingly stole her identity, mannerisms, even her skin to achieve her hungry, gleefully heart-slurping goals.

When we see her most, she's at the absolute PEAK of her hero (villain) title's power, fully balanced with her Page of Mind inverse/sub-role in puppeting illusions, seizing direct control of the infected, and trying to deceive others with horrifying, demoralizing visions specifically tailored to pierce their individual Hearts and hit them with what they care about most. She's a terrifying Thief of Heart who (apart from literally tearing the hearts out of other's chests) steals the individual uniqueness of others, and USES others' individual uniqueness to steal everything from them. She's much like a horrifying Page of Mind who went from playing with her dolls to playing with drones, using the fact she could clone others from backups to completely disconnect her from any sense of moral responsibility to them, raising an army of zombie followers in her image, slaved to her administrative control, and even later let her squads retain their original personalities specifically to exploit their uniqueness to accomplish more than she'd otherwise be able to expect from mindless slaves. She struck devil's deals with those she let keep their personalities, like V and J, using what she knew of their personalities to give them offers they couldn't refuse and letting them keep EXACTLY enough of their Minds to balance effectiveness with her manipulations. Her thrilled confidence at unleashing her true form and personality, shamelessly facing the cast as herself in episodes 7 and 8 having fulfilled her promise to Tessa that she would not discard her in the most horrifyingly literal way possible, is incredibly intimidating. What an amazing, love-to-hate-her antagonist with such power-hungry but initially-understandable motivations. I fucking love it.

And the wildest part is that she's actually only half of the real villain.

The Solver of the Absolute Fabric: Muse of Void

Tessa: "We know it mutates in damaged AI. It took Cyn as a host, then it took everything. The humans here saw what was happening at home. Thought they could understand it. All they did was spread it."

"[I am] The Solver of the Absolute Fabric, the Void, the Exponential End."

(Corkboard in the secret Cabin Fever facility--) "FUN TIME TO UNIVERSE BIG CRUNCH: 87"

CYN isn't ACTUALLY the Absolute Solver itself, only its primary host, perhaps almost a merged personality. Believe it or not, there's a Doc-Scratch-like antagonist behind EVERYTHING that happened with Cyn, and just like me you will have COMPLETELY missed it unless someone told you or you happened to pause or step through a FEW FRAMES of what flashed onscreen on CYN's visor when she first restarted in the garbage pile at the beginning of Episode 5:

The transcript, best as I can tell, which I'm sure will give any Homestuck veteran some serious Doc Scratch vibes:

[][][]hello :] I see you are [disposed (?????) pful/sad] I see you are inoperable- (?????) end]] --- I fD--t]] [selfDestruct(?????),]end]] I see we could [trl] [scl] [rot] [edit] for you I will not discard you [][][][][][Absolute[Sys(???)] Access? Y/N [.0001%] rush I see you will be here for _ [a while]

The functions [trl] [scl] [rot] [edit] refer to the four explicit powers of the Absolute Solver besides [NULL], which are Translate, Scale, Rotate, and Edit, each with their own unique symbol that appears when someone uses it as we've covered. (There's more depth you can wiki-dive, and it's so cool to see how every time the powers are used the abilities switch out and do such specific things in such varied ways. I also love the theme of the [trn] (Translate/Move) symbol being used to represent CONTROL over others, too, the symbol papering over the eyes of the possessed completely.)

CYN didn't just develop her eldritch powers from a reboot glitch-- an ENTITY OFFERED HER POWER THAT SHE ACCEPTED in order to resurrect, an incredible realty-warping power it offers to dead AI to give them new (un)life in order to advance its universe eating goals. It's the source of a power that defies the laws of reality, is allergic to Light, and has to manipulate lesser entities into submitting to its power in order to truly control them. It selects those who have been discarded and forgotten, dead without agency, and tempts them like the Devil. It disguises its true form's manifestations (the giant bugs and camera-projectors), literally hides extra mass in shadows, unfolding from pocket dimensions, and each of the users who access its powers (Uzi, Doll, and CYN) use its Voidy toolset in different ways that align with their own natures even while the power and its endower's motives hang Muse-like over the entire plot like a shadow itself. The Solver's ultimate "host" even takes the form of a sort of singularity inside the core of the Heart of one possessed by the power's main focus, the locus puppet of the Absolute Solver's motives. No wonder CYN and Uzi can coexist in the end, if with some bags-under-the-eyes difficulty as Uzi the Witch constantly keeping both her and the power itself under Control.

That about covers the cast, and whether you agree or disagree with my title choices I hope I gave you some interesting things to think about! Classpect analysis while I was watching made me appreciate how clever the plot and character writing was for this series even more as I was watching it, and if any of this helped you appreciate Murder Drones more that's the best compliment I could possibly earn. <3

#Homestuck #Murder Drones #Classes and Aspects #Non Homestuck Titles #Spoiler #Spoilers #Light and Void #Space and Time #Hope and Rage #Heart and Mind #Life and Doom #Doc Scratch

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celestetcetera-art · 7 months ago

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more jekyll & hyde alien drawings :)

assorted lore dump below the cut:

Jekylls and Hydes adapted their split forms to fill two important evolutionary niches: community, and survival. Jekylls intentionally have duller, safer appearances, and exist to signal friendliness and create social bonds. Hydes, on the other hand, have weapons built into every aspect of their form, and are adapted for fighting, fleeing, and thriving.

Hydes are shorter because some of their mass goes to creating their wings and tail. As they transform and lose height, this also splits their horns apart.

They do not have a concept of gender, instead assigning pronouns to form in their native languages (usually).

They do, however, have a subsection of the species that can carry children (~25%) and a subsection that can contribute genetic data to the childbearer (~75%).

Multiple parents can contribute DNA to any given childbearer, similar to earthen cats, except the DNA is considered for the same child instead of a litter.

They also have no concept of sexuality. Individuals may show a preference for pairing with members of the species that can or cannot give birth, but it’s fairly rare.

Their birthing process is pretty similar to humans, with only a single child (usually) incubated within a parent’s womb for a while. There is a failsafe membrane around said womb during pregnancy that ensures form switching is not hard on the fetus.

Jekylls and Hydes do not usually form monogamous partnerships the way humans do. Jekylls, especially those who have birthed children, will usually form a small group of respectable friends who will all help parent the child. Hydes, or at least those who indulge in them enough, may find sexual partners whom they repeatedly meet up with over other, random encounters.

A child is always born in their Jekyll form, developing their Hyde form only in adolescence (human age equivalent of 10-12). Their horns begin growing in around early adolescence. They begin as two harmless nubs that over time, fuse into the full halo. The moment their halo forms coincides with the development of their Hyde side, and only when individuals transform for the first time does their horns sharpen from splitting apart.

This milestone in one’s life is colloquially referred to as their "split."

Younger members of the species are the least adept at controlling the transformations, as they are often emotion triggered. It takes quite a few years (essentially, after an individual has gone through puberty) for one to fully control it.

Despite not technically being connected to morality, Jekylls are often viewed as the more respectable, civilized side, and Hydes as the evil, animalistic side. Much of society considers swapping into Hyde form an indulgence, if not an outright sin.

Groups of Jekylls will even react in disgust to another’s Hyde, despite all having one themselves.

Part of the reason Jekylls are seen as such is because they are sort of the “default” form of the species, with their Hyde forms only becoming prominent in adolescence (despite the emotions associated with their Hyde mentalities existing within them from birth).

Counterculture that takes pride in embracing their Hyde side exists as well, and you can find Hyde specific bars and clubs in the slummier parts of town.

Particularly for social events, Jekylls will wear elegant gloves, and it's considered impolite or inconsiderate for them to not. This is because the transformation into their Hyde will rip through the gloves as their hands are bigger and clawed, so wearing gloves signals a Jekyll’s intention to remain in their more social form.

One can easily identify whether an individual is currently a Hyde or a Jekyll, due to their vastly different appearances, but it is incredibly hard to connect an individual Jekyll to their Hyde, or vice-versa. This has given Hydes a sense of anonymity that they often choose to abuse.

It is common for Hydes to use pseudonyms while in their form, taking advantage of the anonymity.

If a transformation is to be forced, there is a transformation "potion" that can be administered to an individual to trigger a transformation between forms chemically. These are used in court cases, to treat medical conditions, as a black market drug, or, in extreme scenarios, as a form of torture.

Their bodies will almost always transform into Hyde upon death. This is because of the adrenaline spike and survival instinct that is triggered when dying. Because of this, most funeral rites involve burning the bodies or at the very least covering them up.

#art #oc #the final human #jekyll and hyde #alien design #their lack of gender/sexuality is based on the way the book is oops all male bachelors in their 50s btw

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linka-from-captain-planet · 4 months ago

Text

wait by the light of the moon #1: Rana & Vesta - Selfish

this Femslash February, I got myself all in my feelings about the usual (women) and began working on a collection of loosely-connected short fics exploring life as queer women in Tevinter, emphasizing friendship, community, and culture. Being me, of course a fair amount of focus is on supporting and obscure characters, because all women are main characters to ME.

To that point, first up is a lesbro origin story, featuring Rana Savas and (future) Warden Vesta

Rating: T || Words: 1274 References to homophobia, misogyny, comp het, and class issues.

On the outskirts of the city, just inside the walls, the Templar training camp is a grey, cramped, shoddy affair. Shockingly, the Magisterium doesn’t allocate it much money in the annual budget.

To the caravan of recruits coming in, though, it might as well be an oasis in the Western Front. Three meals a day, a roof over their heads, money in the pocket on the last day of every month. People with other options tend not to choose this one, but as far as Tevinter goes, there’s always at least one option that’s always worse.

The mid-morning sun is hot overhead, steaming the formation of junior knights in full plate. Tradition has them, two and three years into service, greet the new recruits. The miserable, rundown first-year grunts would probably scare too many of them off.

At the front of formation, Knight-Templar Vesta Aquila watches two score bodies pour off a cramped wagon as one big mass, fanning themselves with their shirts and gasping the fresh air with relief. Looks like the usual assortment: mostly men, mostly hungry-eyed and raw-boned, some of them practically still with indents from chains on their ankles and wrists.

Some of them chatter and mill about excitedly; others stick with the pack, nervous and desperate not to be singled out. Before long, a sergeant comes blustering out of the office and barks at them to shut up, stand straight, and listen for their name to be called for intake, inspection, and kitting.

The crowd settles and spreads out a bit, and Vesta can’t help but notice one of the few female recruits sticking out like a sore thumb.

She looks like she got lost on the way to the Our Young Lady of Victory Pageant. A classic Tevene beauty: tall, slender, with shiny dark hair plaited all the way down to her butt, looking as out-of-place as Andraste herself would, standing stiffly in the perpetually ankle-deep mud of the Ferryman Training Temple courtyard. Her green eyes dart around nervously, but her pretty face is set determinedly neutral.

Couldn’t be a zealot, Vesta decides idly, or the daughter of such; the chantry would be the clear choice, there. This isn’t the South. Couldn’t be a Laetain’s ungifted disappointment, dumped into service to recoup some of the family’s lost esteem with medals and titles without any risk of being sent to fight the Qunari; they’re only a small bribe away from skipping right to officer school. Couldn’t come from much at all, or else she’d be able to afford schooling or vocational training. Couldn't be coming in off the streets or the market, what with her clean dress and impeccable grooming. Too prim to be a troublemaker who picked this place over jail. Too uncertain to be the latest in a long line of Templars. Too young and far too beautiful not to have marriage, at least, to fall back on.

The sergeant barks, “Rana Savas,” and the girl startles, but squares her shoulders and follows her assigned admin drone inside.

She takes about three steps before Vesta raises an eyebrow and thinks, ah.

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

Hours later, just before lights-out, Vesta makes her assigned rounds shooing recruits to their bunks. She sticks her head into the women’s washroom, and there she finds the girl—Savas, she remembers—standing in front of the mirror, running her hands over and over through what remains of her hair.

The men get their heads shaved promptly after signing the papers, and the women, their hair chopped off messily above the shoulders. Hygiene, they say; hazing, they don’t. Savas’ hair wound up even shorter than most, hacked up almost to her ears. The barber must have been feeling greedy; hair as long and thick as hers fetches good coin. That pretty braid will make a magister’s wife a real nice wig, but what she’s left with looks like something from a joke shop, bone-dry and sticking up all over. The harsh anti-nit shampoo they make the recruits wash with in medical inspection might as well be enchanted to turn hair to straw.

Vesta came in with her hair already cropped short. She had someone to warn her.

Rapping softly on the wall to announce herself, Vesta calls, “Alright there, Savas?”

Despite being sneaked up on, Savas doesn’t flinch at her own name this time. Her eyes remain fixed on herself in the mirror, her expression wooden, and she keeps stroking her hair. Hoping to get some oil from her skin into it, Vesta figures.

Mechanically, Savas replies, “I’m well, thank you, Knight-Templar Aquila.”

“Good memory,” Vesta says, feeling awkward. It’s not really the point, but she adds, “Just ‘Aquila.’ I’m not an officer. All us underlings just call each other by name.” Savas seems like a girl who appreciates a good rule to follow. Maybe it’ll make her feel a little less helpless.

Savas nods, staring at the mirror two feet from her face like it’s as far away as the Archon’s Palace hovering up in the sky.

Sighing, Vesta leans out the door to listen for anyone coming. The last thing they need is the sergeant busting in on his own rounds.

Coming to Savas’ side, she grabs the younger woman—barely old enough to qualify as a ‘woman’, now that Vesta sees her up close—and pries her arms down to her sides, forcing her hands out of her hair, and briskly turns her away from the mirror so they meet eyes directly.

“C’mon, Savas. Snap out of it. Come tomorrow’s drills, you’ll be glad to have all that weight off your neck.”

It wasn’t meant to be patronizing, but something about it strikes a nerve and Savas’ eyes focus into a glare. So, it worked, anyway.

Wrenching away, jaw set, Savas gestures frustratedly at the mirror. “Glad, they made me look like a man,” she mutters ruefully, quiet enough that Vesta isn’t sure if she was meant to hear it or not.

Ah, Vesta thinks. It really doesn’t; it makes her look like a pretty girl with an ugly haircut. If she’s concerned about coming off mannish—about tipping off people who aren’t like them—, she should probably worry about adjusting that walk of hers first.

Needless to say, Vesta keeps that analysis to herself. She has a feeling it’ll be some time before Savas would be receptive to such feedback.

It hasn’t been too long since Vesta was in her shoes. She gets it.

But it’s not the kind of thing they could talk about in the open. There are no laws, no rules, no regulations against it; it’s just not what’s done. You don’t grow up in Minrathous without learning damn well that many Soporoti see themselves not as Soporoti, but as temporarily-embarrassed Altus; so even though there’s really no reason for peasants like them to mimic the highbloods’ delicate sensibilities regarding bloodlines, inheritance, proper marriage and the proper breeding of proper mage-children… it’s just the way things are done. Even though it smothers them all.

The chantry bell tolls, reminding Vesta that they need to hustle out of here if they don’t want extra laps tomorrow.

But, it’s easier when you have someone to help keep your nose above water.

Like Knight-Templar Bosc did for her two years ago, Vesta steps up to the mirror and knocks the side of her boot against Savas’. She receives an incredulous look in return.

Smirking and leaning in conspiratorially, Vesta says, “You’re not the only one with a bad haircut here, Savas. Don’t be selfish.”

At ‘selfish’, Savas’ eyes widen and her ears flush.

Good—that’s one less thing Vesta will need to teach her before camp ends.

#rana savas #warden vesta #wait by the light of the moon #the plan is for this to eventually become a ficlet collection to post on AO3 #but I'm very inconsistent so I want to make sure I actually finish the collection lol #naturally the overall title comes from our lesbian national anthem: Come to My Window #my fics #dragon age #femslash february

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peskellence · 10 months ago

Note

could I please request some reed900... 👉👈

Nines' skin is malfunctioning, but Gavin reassures him (in his own, Gavin way) that he accepts him as he is? Skin or no skin?

thank you. bless. kiss. forever indebted💕

Say less, friend, I've got you 🫡

Fail Safe

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: M/M, Established Relationship, Fluff, Praise and Affirmation, Self Acceptance.

AO3 Link

Summary: Gavin and Nines are on security duty when an unexpected cyber attack results in the android's synthetic skin being compromised. Despite his worries, Gavin reassures him that their bond runs deeper than the pieces they are made of.

Word Count: 4.7K

Gavin and Nines had been assigned to security duty at the opening ceremony for a new Jericho Community Centre. It was due to be a pretty contained event, nothing overly flashy or publicised. Normally, it wouldn't demand any police involvement, but there had been whispers the Anti Android Alliance planned to attend—staging some sort of protest.

This turned out to be true, although not in the way that could've been anticipated. It seemed a particularly enlightened Dipshit In Charge had decided the usual M.O. of bats and bricks wouldn't cut it. Instead, they were going to make some waves with a street-deployed cyber attack. Send their 'message', whatever deranged bullshit that might be, by taking out some local figureheads with a home-brewed virus.

Fuck knows how they'd manage to string together the spaghetti code with their three collective brain cells—or how they'd loaded up said clusterfuck onto the batons concealed in their pockets. Nevertheless, about five minutes into the presentation, they started swinging. Weapons bared and flung into the faces of nearby pedestrians as they tried to make their way to the stage.

Shit hit the fan, but fortunately, not for their targets.

It turned out the engineering at Fuckhead H.Q. was just as shitty as the planning, as the would-be attempt at corporal justice folded like a house of cards. Most of the batons didn't work, and with the ones that did, the virus wasn't able to execute the way they'd wanted.

The intent had been to infiltrate the android's core systems through mass corruption of their internal networks. Ultimately, overloading the CPU and causing permanent shutdown, but without plugging the device directly into an access port—which they clearly had no idea how to do, and their targets weren't about to help with—its reach was incredibly limited.

Basically, it couldn't do shit. Stalling at the first line of defence: the chassis. Digital garbage hurled at a plastic wall.

Nines had been hit by one of the bastards—stuck in the side of the neck as he wrangled them away from a Jericho representative. Handling of the situation became a lot less gentle after that, with the man catapulted onto the floor, squealing like a pig as the android pinned his flailing limbs. Gavin had moved to assist, feeding the guy a couple of teeth for his trouble.

Total accident, of course. The man just happened to move his face as he was getting the cuffs on, and it just happened to slam into the detective's fist.

He didn't get much of the chiding he'd usually expect for this, as the virus had started to do its thing. Working across his partner's body, flickering in patches like a broken LCD. The corruption branched down his throat before retreating beneath his collar in search of available access.

Much like with the other android's affected, it failed. Nines was fine, mostly: the only exception being that the malware had managed to fuck up one of his less important functions. His synthetic skin.

At least, that's what the Cyberlife Tech on the phone suggested was happening when they decided to call. The glitches spread, with the majority hidden beneath clothes—but Nines could undoubtedly feel the effects of corruption taking hold. While he wasn't sure if this was something they really needed to worry about, the concept alone left a bad taste in Gavin's mouth.

They were forced to leave reinforcements to book the fucker responsible, as well as the rest of his brain-dead friends. A shame, as the detective would have loved to acquaint him with the book about to be thrown his way. Maybe give him a black eye to go with the dental bill.

As they made their way home, the vibrancy of glitches had started to decrease, fading into a translucent creep that filmed across the skin. Whatever receptors were present to lend cloaking abilities were beginning to short-circuit, creating an expanding kaleidoscope of freckles and plastic.

Gavin used full siren privileges to run every red light they encountered, determined to weave through the traffic as quickly as possible. He had never seen the android so panicked—frenzied—like the car would be at risk of imploding if it didn't imminently materialise outside their home.

With his understanding of Michigan Traffic Laws becoming increasingly lax, Nines continued to rip into the rep held at knifepoint in his temporal channel. He hadn't bothered to lock communication to his internal server and instead was speaking out loud—in a tone that a more diplomatic man might describe as 'a bit confrontational.'

In reality, he had gone all seven shades of middle-aged-mom-with-an-expired-coupon. Demanding the guy listen to every minute detail of his grievance and inform him how quickly it could be resolved.

Gavin would have found this hilarious had the intensity not been a little terrifying. Instead, it inspired him to punch the gas harder, resulting in a chorus of beeps as he pulled a particularly dangerous manoeuvre around a sharp bend.

It didn't seem to matter what the squeaky-voiced foetus on the line said; each suggestion was ruled unacceptable. Commencing a perpetual cycle of 'that isn't fast enough' and 'speak with your supervisor' and 'this is an emergency, William; it should be prioritised accordingly.' The rep responded to each chastisement with small, deflated whimpers, like a punctured balloon expelling air.

The virus, now engaged fully, worked in stages to target each section of artificial skin. Limbs faded out in sporadic blotches as glossy pinpricks expanded their way into dense bands of white. They tunnelled through rapidly shrinking pockets of flesh, with Nines looking like a six-foot lava lamp by the time they finally reached the apartment.

Admittedly, it was a strange image—with this something the android seemed astutely aware of. He had charged for the bathroom and locked himself in within seconds of entering their home, informing Gavin with no uncertainty he would not be coming out until help arrived.

This was all well and good at first, but after three hours—and five espressos—nature was calling. Not softly, either, having been forced to wait for a good fucking while.

The pressure grew, and rather than risk a hole being punched through the wall of his bladder, Gavin concluded he couldn't hold it. Rapping his knuckle on the wood, he pressed his face against it, making a pointed appeal to his partner.

"Nines, I need a piss. Let me in for a sec."

The request went ignored, bouncing uselessly off the door and crumpling at his feet. Frustrated, he knocked again, using his available grip to jiggle insistently on the handle.

"Come on, I'm desperate. Open the fucking door."

"The Cyberlife technician will be here soon," an even tone greeted him, undercutting the demand. "I am confident you can wait a few more minutes."

"It's been more than a few, jackass."

"The operative advised that their arrival would fall between 2 and 7. As we are nearing 6:45, we can anticipate—"

Gavin disrupted the explanation with a prolonged groan of protest. His head lulled back as he grappled with a growing temptation to slingshot it through the panel. "Those windows mean jack shit. You'll be lucky if the bastard shows up before June. Hell, you'll be lucky if he shows up at all."

There was a weighty pause as though Nines was attempting to formulate some form of mind-shattering retort. Words of assurance so profound they would effectively conclude the debate—as well as any and all that followed.

Despite having a world of knowledge quite literally wired to his brain, the android gave him nothing. Treading over the same tired deflection with a small, dejected huff. "Just wait. It won't take long."

"If you don't let me in, I'm gonna go in the litter box—or the kitchen sink."

The latter threat inspired a visceral reaction. Gavin swore he could see the red casting from his partner's temple, seeping through the cracks under the door. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me. It's full of dishes. You want that on your conscience?"

As though taking a moment to grapple with the grim proposal, Gavin was made to wait in anticipation of his partner's reply. A lull that seemed to stretch endlessly, as he tried not to focus on the uncomfortable pressure in his groin. Crossing his legs, he tapped his foot impatiently—a motion that would have likely attracted the attention of a marauding cat were she not out harassing strays.

There were muffled sounds behind the door, like rustling fabric, followed by the telltale scrape of something heavy being moved. It seemed like Nines had gone to the effort of barricading himself inside, just in case Gavin managed to break through the flimsy hold of the lock.

"Turn around and keep your eyes forward. I will only leave this room on the condition you do not look."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," the man grunted, eyes rolling at the theatrics. "I swear I won't look. Scouts honour."

Another rustle followed—and a click—as an internal mechanism was turned and released. The door creaked forward, with casts of fluorescents from beyond the passage starting to leak into the hallway. True to his word, Gavin turned around. Gaze fixed on a nearby wall—as though the flecked chips of paint were the most engaging things he had ever seen.

The panel swung open completely, anchored on creaking hinges, and steady steps crossed the threshold. They did not progress much further, as Nines failed to meet the steady foundation of the carpet, instead greeted with a cat toy being compressed beneath his weight.

The worn squeaker of the felt mouse strained to its absolute limit, wheezing in a prolonged cry, until it slipped out from beneath his toes and careened across the room.

Shit.

Nines opposed the trajectory, fumbling back and colliding firmly with the weathered plaster behind him. Dangerously close to where they kept their beast of burden's scratching post.

Shit.

Gavin wasn't sure if the glitching had affected his partner's durability, but he didn't want to find out. Certainly not by being forced to remove him from a surprisingly solid pillar of plywood.

Nines already had one near miss today. The last thing he needed was for the engineer's visit to end up a real emergency.

Don't turn, don't—

His head whipped around despite all resistance. It had been out of instinct, really, with no malicious intent intended. An innate compulsion to assist, justifying that he would've been more of an asshole if he'd wilfully allowed his boyfriend to skewer himself.

It only occurred just how badly he had fucked up when he saw him.

The partners froze, eyes locked, and the room around them seemed to vanish. The structural integrity of limbs and furniture was immediately forgotten as Gavin's heart plummeted into his ass.

Nines looked horrified. His LED flashed like a warning beacon, crimson pulses growing in frequency the more his eyes widened. He stayed that way for a period. Paralysed. Like a startled deer out on a highway, about to be struck by an oncoming vehicle.

It was nothing like him at all, and Gavin found it deeply unnerving. He then proceeded to make it worse, executing all the same grace of a violent roadside collision. Allowing the first slack-jawed musing that popped into his skull to tumble tactlessly from his lips:

"Oh shit."

The red illuminating Nines' face took on a different meaning in the wake of the outburst. He had broken free of his prey-like stupor and emerged angry—furious. Taking laboured strides toward the bathroom, levelling his partner with an increasingly scornful glare.

"I told you not to look."

Gavin winced at the accusation dripping from the words, as they were dragged through the snarled curl of the android's mouth. Damage control was needed, but he was unable to engage the appropriate mental factions.

Instead, he attempted to downplay his previous stunned reaction—gesturing his boyfriend up and down with feigned indifference:

"This is why you've been holding the shitter hostage?" He noted how his arm cast shadows against the sheened wall of plastic, masking his intrigue with a scoff. "Really, that's it?"

Nines jerked back, expression pinched as though he had been struck in the face. "What do you mean, 'that's it'? Gavin, look at me."

"So you're a bit pale. Grey round the gills. You should've seen me this one time at Summer camp." Gavin chuckled preemptively, arms folded across his chest as he attempted to recall the memory. "Man, I'd eaten like seventeen s'mores, and I swear they'd laced the marshmallows with laxatives because, after that, I couldn't…"

He trailed off as the pronounced scowl etched deeper into his partner's face. Informing it wasn't the time for jokes—and that the legendary saga of Preteen Gavin and the Exploding Bowels would have to wait for another day.

"... Seriously, what did you think I was gonna do?" he challenged, abandoning the playful lilt in favour of something serious. "Freak out and run for the hills because you look like a robot? Because newsflash, genius, I kind of got that. Your skin turns into a goddamn Rorschach every time we do it. Not to mention the static orgasms—"

Nines raised a hand to stop him, clearly not appreciating the growing vividness of the account. "There was a time when this would have been an issue. Please don't insult me by denying that."

His voice was stern—gravelly with a mixture of frustration and hurt—as his expression hardened further. A feat the detective had thought impossible.

He bore into him with sharply trained eyes, still the same vibrant grey they'd always been—despite everything else that had changed.

Remorse struck hard, twisting his gut and nearly knocking him back. Nines was right: not long ago, this would have been a big deal.

The consequence of a roadblock which spanned the numerous tangled alleys of his mind. Something established by years of resentment, growing uncontrollably over time. Soon, it had become impossible to bypass, not that he'd made much effort to try. Facing the beast, he just knew it was insurmountable.

That was until Nines arrived, rolling up to the rickety wagon he'd parked against the barrier and all but ripping him out. Tugged from his seat by the goddamn ears as he kicked and howled in protest.

"Plastic fucker—"

Of course, it wasn't all that dramatic. It didn't happen immediately, and definitely not in a single pull.

The occurrence had been slow and gradual, with Gavin only starting to scream when he realised what was happening. Because the closer they got—moved from aggrieved associates to unexpected friends—the more he had to challenge everything he understood about being alive. A painful, arduous process that forced him to confront wrongs he didn't even know he'd committed.

The conclusion should have brought relief, but instead, it was hollow. Something was still missing—and it sure as hell shouldn't have been. His entire worldview had been uprooted, enriched, and expanded by Nines' perspective.

What more could he possibly want?

Then came that one night spent together on surveillance. They'd been scoping out some low-life dealer: a notorious scumbag who had been running operations out of the back room of an underground nightclub. It was a particularly seedy establishment, turning out to be more 'brothel' than 'party spot.'

They had been forced to adjust their approach, cosying up to one another in an effort to assimilate with the handsy patrons. Not that Gavin was complaining—which, in itself, brought to light something extremely damning. The emergence of a serious problem, one that threatened to blow up his fragile state of composure with a fucking grenade.

A particularly enlightening moment occurred—where Nines had him pinned to a wall, held firm by his wrists—when he realised it was too late. The problem was there. Had been for a while. Shaped into the contours of a chiselled jawline and a cool, bright stare he wanted to drown in.

"Keep still, detective. Eyes on me. I believe I have a visual."

The request had been low, practically purred against his ear. It had sent his heart rate skyrocketing, blood rushing in frantic pumps through the lingering echoes of words still dancing in the canal.

Oh fuck.

After that, he couldn't keep convincing himself that he was content with friendship. He wanted more, wanted this, without having to pretend. Desperation drove him to the insane stunt he pulled seconds later. If it failed, he could always claim it was part of their 'performance.'

An excuse that wasn't needed.

Their lips had met, and after a fleeting blip of hesitation, Nines reciprocated. Practically melting into him, abandoning his wrists in order to capture the sides of his face. Like he was holding something valuable— worthy of care and reverence.

They'd lost their visual on the target, as well as any hope of catching up to their boss, but the impromptu trip to a motel had been worth the berating they received from Captain Fowler.

It couldn't be overstated just how grateful Gavin was that Nines had chosen to give him a chance. To show acceptance despite everything he had put him through.

Because even if he was better, nothing could change the foundational truths of the man he was. The innumerable faults that would continue to persist despite all best efforts. Recklessness, arrogance, and spite. Baggage that came wheeled on a dolly cart, stacked to the ceiling.

None of it mattered.

The android took it all—willingly—and without any ultimatum. From the start, the only expectation had been that Gavin would do right by both of them by not fighting the way Nines made him feel.

And nothing had ever made him feel this way. The kind of unconditional devotion and adoration that seemed unique to them, as well as the simple comfort of being together.

He owed Nines everything. The least he could do was offer some modicum of the same security. Especially now, when he seemed so vulnerable.

"You know your skin deactivates every time you go into sleep mode, right?"

The effort backfired horribly.

If Nines hadn't already seemed willing to take up permanent residence in the bathroom, this declaration came close to cinching it. His eyes widened to near-comedic proportions, looking like they might careen from their sockets. "Excuse me?"

Gavin, realising that this had decidedly not been the approach to take, acted quickly to rectify the mistake. "I'm kidding; I just thought it might make you feel better."

The android was seldom listening, making clear that the damage was done as he sidled closer to the bathroom. The exposed soles of his feet pressed against the linoleum, and Gavin's body howled, desperate for its overdue reunion with his porcelain throne.

"This is—just—I mean, you look—"

"I am well aware of what I look like," Nines interjected. His already tense posture had grown increasingly stiff, as though his back was being supported by a cast iron rod, "and just how far this version of me must detract from your preferences."

The words struck hard—much more so than the previous blow. Any ensuing attempts at fumbled retorts were abandoned as he blinked, stunned into silence.

"The issue will be resolved, and once it has, you needn't concern yourself with my default appearance."

Wait. Hold up.

"Now, if you excuse me, I will wait in the bedroom."

Awareness unfolded, leaving him floored—thoroughly astonished at how Nines, the paragon of informed deduction, could have been so cataclysmically wrong when it sought to matter most. To be able to speak so matter-of-factly, with such a candid degree of confidence, about something that couldn't be further from the truth.

His legs moved before his brain could catch up, placing him decisively into the path between his partner and their bedroom.

"Don't you dare go storming off like you're some goddamn teenager," he hissed, in full awareness that his standing there wasn't actually stopping anyone. Nines could quite easily pick him up and fling him across the room like a frisbee, although he trusted him not to.

"What else would you propose I do? Allow you to defecate in our kitchen because I refused to accommodate?"

"You aren't even giving me time to think." The injustice of the situation was becoming more pronounced, flaring hot in Gavin's ribs. "You're just assuming the worst of me, acting like I'm gonna be a total dick about this."

This proved enough to pierce through his partner's haze of contention. The sharpness in his eyes faded, giving way to a flicker of regret. His softened gaze then fell to the side, heavy with shame. "...That was not my intent. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

Clearly, it wasn't. The tension between them persisted despite the conclusion to their argument. It was suffocating, and Gavin couldn't help but notice how, despite making no further attempts to physically flee, his partner was still trying to hide. Sinking into himself, hands wrapped in a tense bind across his chest.

"...Nines." The name was gentle, settled on a pensive purse at the end of his lips. "Let me see you. Please."

The android didn't respond immediately, hesitation evident in every microscopic shift of his frame. Eventually, his arms slackened and fell back, revealing the expanse of exposed white torso. While still unsure of the idea, demonstrated in his continued refusal to look up, it was clear Nines was extending some form of invitation—one that Gavin accepted.

He traced his fingers carefully up the stretch of the android's chest. It was not made of a singular uniform piece as he had previously assumed, but rather, a complex network of small, interwoven panels. Segmented into varied shades of white and grey, connected by subtle welds.

As he delicately tested the marks with the heel of his palm, he noted how remarkably smooth they felt, blending seamlessly with the rest of the body.

Not everything beneath the chassis was covered, with pockets of plastic so thin they were practically translucent. It revealed a dense network of wires—vibrant blues shifting through the synthetic circulatory system, pumped in steady flows of biofluid.

The liquid originated from the centre of his ribs, beneath a protrusion in the sternum. Something that pressed to the surface—formed in a subtle ring. It pulsed gently, and the longer he looked, the more he was able to detect rhythmic glows of light.

Gavin whistled low, noting how the pace of the component increased when he placed a hand across it. Blue bled through his fingers, illuminating the veins and tendons beneath his skin. It seemed so calm and balanced compared to the uneven tempo of his own raging pulse.

"I didn't think you'd be able to see so much…" he mused, voice low with admiration. "It's fucking incredible. You know that, right?"

"I am a machine," Nines said bitterly—the word of contention spat with disdain, like a curse. "A collection of polymers and circuitry, designed and constructed together to perform a practical function. There is nothing remarkable about it."

"What you just described is a dishwasher. This is not a dishwasher; this is—" He scoffed in self-deprecation, realising just how unequipped he was to describe the gravity of what he was seeing. In the absence of any poise or delicacy, the man opted for honesty. "You're like some crazy modern artwork, a goddamn masterpiece."

"Stop lying to me."

"I'm not. You'd be able to tell if I was, right?"

Nines had nothing to say to that. His mouth jutted open, a tumultuous train of thought evident in the shifting glow of his LED before it wordlessly snapped shut.

"Look, even if you weren't objectively the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life, it still wouldn't matter."

The android still refused to look at him, posture locked painfully tight, but as Gavin traced a delicate finger around his regulator access panel, there was a hint of a shudder. Bristling through his shoulders, as the tension held there started to wane.

"I know you don't wanna hear this—because it doesn't fit into your tortured soul narrative—and honestly, there's no way to say without it sounding like something out of a shitty romcom—"

He was stalling for time and not effectively. This sort of sentiment wasn't his strong suit. It didn't come naturally, which Nines was aware of. Still, if there was ever a time to be nauseatingly, cavity-inducingly sweet, this was it:

"Truth is, I love you, and that's got absolutely jack shit to do with what you look like. It's because of what's on the inside, or whatever."

"You love me for my thirium pump regulator?"

The finger stalled in motion.

Gavin looked up to discover Nines was facing him, a mischievous grin tugging his lips. He glowered despondently and made a hasty attempt to retract his arm. "Shut up, you know what I meant."

The limb didn't get far, as Nines captured it by the wrist, keeping it anchored to his chest. "I did," he assured, caressing the skin, marking trails of bone and ligament with the end of his thumb.

Until the languid motions slowed as synthetic muscles seized. An aftershock of the previous state of anxiety. It was such a minor slip in control that anyone else would have unlikely noticed. Gavin knew better—keenly able to detect the change.

"This really doesn't bother you?", the android asked, accentuating the question with increased pressure against his carpus.

"Does it bother you that I have a mole on my chest the size of a quarter? Or that you can do a dot-to-dot with my stab wounds?"

"Of course not. Why would that matter?"

"Exactly." The man huffed, punctuating the point with an affectionate prod to the android's temple. "Come on, you're the one with the supercomputer brain; just think about it for a second."

Whatever equanimity his partner was still clinging to unravelled in an instant. He looked genuinely overwhelmed, struck by a tidal wave of emotion which he could barely seek to contain. The breaks showed fast, leaking through in small hitches of crackling breath.

"Gavin, I—" He stopped as though desperately seeking to regain some degree of composure. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Don't be a moron." He ushered him forward, capturing the hand still wrapped around his wrist. "Come here."

The android did not resist the embrace, sinking into it, as he enclosed the man with powerful limbs. Cradling the back of his head, digits toying with tousled brown strands.

"Sap," Gavin teased, although he revelled in their proximity just as much. Indulging greedily as he peppered kisses across a tempting expanse of shoulder. "You don't need to hide yourself from me. Ever. I'm here for you—and nothing else."

The charged sounds grew louder, like the rumble of a car engine, sending vibrations through Nines' throat. This was before he cupped his partner's chin and allowed the sound to escape through tightly pressed lips.

He moved with the sort of fervent passion that might suggest he was scared Gavin would disappear—but really, spoke more to the gratitude of knowing he wouldn't. It was only as he had fully breached the cavern of his mouth, and their hips were beginning to rock in sequence that the android finally pulled away.

Gavin was left mesmerised—and a little dazed—by the unexpected boldness. It didn't matter how often Nines did this or what other shows of licentious spontaneity happened to follow; he couldn't foresee a time when it wouldn't knock him off his feet.

How was he supposed to ground himself when he was perpetually flung into Cloud Nine, reminded of just how lucky he was?

"...Besides." He chuckled richly, the sound rolling into the part of tenuously divided lips. "Bald really isn't a bad look on you. It's kind of hot."

The man could practically hear the tight flourish of his partner's eyes before he graciously conceded to the attempt at flirting. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

With a hum of affirmation, Gavin leaned down, forming a seal on the junction between the android's shoulder and neck. "You ever wanna…you know…with the dome out. I'm game."

"Perhaps another time." Nines then returned a hand to the back of his scalp. Burrowing into the hair before resting a cheek softly against his temple. "Right now, I would like it if we could stay like this."

Gavin dutifully complied, removing his lips in favour of nestling against the collarbone. He savoured the gentle rush of warmth that radiated beneath the chassis. It felt like home, and his eyes slid closed, entirely at peace.

"Yeah, that sounds good to me."

#dbh #detroit become human #reed900 #dbh nines #dbh gavin #dbh rk900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh fanfic #gavin reed x rk900 #fic request #requests are open! but please be aware i am slow #and i mostly just write reed900 #i know what i like and it is trash man and tin can

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