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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year

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The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

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I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

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If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

youtube

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

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#Family Lore #Dogs #It's Halloween babey #friday the 13th #blood mention #I hope that kid had a good night and at least one of his friends believed him #Long post #Video

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brainrotallthewaydown1312 · 2 months

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"should've had gay sex" this "they should have fucked nasty in that Honda Odyssey" that. y'all. did you watch that car scene?

for starters at the *very least* it's metaphorical gay sex which is closer than pretty much any MCU adjacent movies (barring maybe the venom movies) have gotten.

second, it's very much up for interpretation what happened in that car. we know that they beat the shit out of each other all day, all night, and into the next day. we know that wolvie had that self contemplative moment after and that they were closer after the fight. we know they had the whole open forest and chose the confined privacy of the car over and over again. i could keep going here, but I've got to get to my point. what we don't know is the sum of what they were doing while that car bounced on its axels for almost 24 full hours. they for sure could have been fucking nasty for any percentage of what we didn't see. i mean wade had to have a reason to let himself get all tied up like that right?

and lastly, think about these characters. really think about them. about who they are and where they are in their respective development. about how they have expressed love and affection thus far and how they express those things for the rest of the movie. do some introspection here. really think about how that car scene played out. and about how wade moved him into his apartment at the end. think about all of that and then look me in my dead, beady eyes and tell me that that car fight doesn't count as sex for them regardless of weather they fucked. you can't. because it definitely does. it has to. it's them. they get to the more traditional fucking after they save the world, but that was their first time having sex. and they would both say it was if asked.

you can fight me on this if you want. it's okay for you to be wrong

#poolverine #deadpool spoilers #deadpool and wolverine

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roosterforme · 5 months

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Aim for the Sky Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Somehow the timing was just right, and Bradley's arrival meant he could join you for your appointment. He'd find out if he was having a son or daughter in person, with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget he loved so much.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Bradley," you gasped, head tipped back against the pillar that was pressing into your shoulder. "Your duffle is here. I can see it." Actually, it was just going around and around on the conveyor belt while Bradley sucked gently on your neck and slowly bunched the fabric of your dress in his hand over your bump. And just like that, once again, your focus drifted away from the bag as soon as he spoke.

"I'll get it in a minute," he murmured next to your ear. "I'm a little busy."

You were getting side eye from a woman, and a random man was outright gawking at you, but you didn't really care. The airport was busy, but it wasn't enough to make you pull your fingers from Bradley's soft hair or tell him to stop kissing his way back to your lips. His bristly mustache made you sigh when he reached his destination once again, and you let him taste your tongue before you pulled away slightly.

"Roo. We're kind of on a tight schedule." When he just grunted in response and headed for your lips again, you laughed. "Daddy! Let's go see the Nugget."

He seemed to snap out of it a little bit, the desire in his eyes giving way to excitement. "Right. Let's go. I can taste you everywhere at home later."

When he took you by the hand, you had to dig your heels in. "We need your bag!" you said with a smile. Then he led you in the opposite direction and snatched his massive duffle up like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder. You had to hustle along next to him as he exited the airport through the sliding doors and headed for the parking garage. It was like he knew you parked near the spot where he totaled your beloved little Honda when he finally got you pregnant on his birthday. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you recalled the details.

He must have seen his blue Bronco in the last row, because he picked up his pace a little bit more. "I don't think we have time for reunion sex yet," he muttered, glancing at you and letting his gaze dip down your body. "But I'll take care of you later. You got along okay without me?"

You let out a little squeak as he tossed his bag in the back and headed for the passenger side door so he could unlock it for you. "Honestly? I haven't been as insatiable since the first trimester ended," you told him, leaning closer to inhale the scent of his deodorant. "At least... I wasn't until right now."

He pulled you close again and tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. "Listen, I'm a little keyed up, and I don't think I can be quick. Can you wait until later?"

"Oh, God," you whined, your skin tingling at the thought of how long he might last for you and how good he would feel. "This is just as exciting as when I felt the baby moving on Halloween."

His brown eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise. "You felt the Nugget?!" When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You just gaped at him. "Seriously? You had your mouth all over mine! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Shit," he hissed and handed you the keys before his hands settled on your belly, drifting around, trying to feel something. "You drive," he said, slowly guiding you to the other side of the Bronco. "I need to work on feeling a kick."

As he buckled you in behind the wheel, you didn't have the heart to tell him that the baby wasn't even moving around much right now, or that it would probably be weeks before he'd be able to feel anything externally. He was too adorable when he was this excited, and you watched him run around the hood and jump inside like an overgrown golden retriever who had been offered a treat. His eyes were wide as he got himself buckled before placing both hands on your belly.

"Okay. I'm ready to go," he informed you with a nod.

"You sure?" you asked, smirking as you put the key in the ignition. "A minute ago, you looked like you were ready to have parking garage sex again, and now you're all over me and the Nugget."

You shifted into gear, and he whispered, "I'm ready, Baby Girl. I'm so fucking ready to learn what we're having, and if I feel a little kick on the way, it'll be like a cherry on top of the best day."

You paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the main road as you realized you only had about twenty minutes to get to Dr. Morris's office on time. "Don't get your hopes up," you said while Bradley felt you all over. "You probably won't be able to feel anything. It's still early for that."

"Hey, not to be rude, Sweetheart, but I'm actually going to need you to stop talking."

"What?" you asked, so startled you laughed a little bit. "Did you just ask me to be quiet?"

He kissed your cheek while you drove and whispered, "It's just that I can't tell if it's the vibrations from your voice or the baby moving. Please? I love you." Now you were laughing even harder as his big hands moved all around on you. "No, no, that's- see you're actually moving more when you laugh though." He kissed your cheek again as you rolled your eyes and smothered your laughter. "That's better."

When you pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, your husband's fingers were stroking your belly gently, and when you parked again and looked at him, you saw a few tears in his eyes. "You okay?" you asked softly.

"Yeah. I'm good. Like really fucking good."

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

Bradley was forever wondering when his luck would run out. His life just seemed too good to be true. He was holding hands with his hot, pregnant wife in the waiting room, just buzzing with excitement. In a few short minutes, he was going to find out if he was having a son or a daughter. He wondered if this was how his dad felt in 1984. He wondered if Nick Bradshaw ever wanted to randomly get on his knees for his wife for no reason.

"They called us," you whispered, kissing his cheek before you stood up. Bradley jumped to his feet as well, so deep in thought, he hadn't heard anything. He'd never admit it to you, but this was probably more exciting than the day the two of you got married.

He pressed his sweaty palm to yours and walked past the reception desk at your side. Three short hallways later, and a nurse led you into a large, dimly lit room with huge computer monitors on one wall. "I'm so fucking excited, I might pass out," he said, voice deep and raspy.

The nurse eyed him cautiously. "Perhaps you should have a seat while Dr. Morris performs the scan?"

He nodded, intercepting the cotton gown before you could take it from her. "That's a great idea. I'll do that."

Once she was gone, Bradley turned to you and started unfolding the gown while you stepped out of your boat shoes. "Are you really going to pass out?" you asked him as you started to pull your sinfully snug dress up your legs.

"Let me do that," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and pushing the fabric up and over your belly. He kissed your tattoo through your underwear, and then he kissed the spot next to your belly button where he always imagined the Nugget was hanging out. "I love you," he whispered before getting to his feet again and pulling the dress up and over your head. You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts looked so fucking incredible, he wanted them in his mouth.

"You're staring at me," you said, reaching for the gown as you shifted back and forth in place like you were getting cold. "I know I look different. I gained like eight or nine pounds while you were gone once I stopped throwing up all the time."

Bradley let you take the gown from his hands. "Jesus Christ, maybe I really should sit down," he muttered, dragging a chair over next to the table where you'd be sitting in a moment. "And I was just staring at your tits, Baby Girl. You don't look different, you look fucking hot pregnant. God, this is more exciting than when you let me fuck you in the ass."

And that was the exact moment when Dr. Morris entered the room and cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Bradshaw," she said, reaching out to shake his hand as he hovered awkwardly over the chair before standing up again. "It's so nice to have you back with us." You were cradling your head in your hand in embarrassment as he shook hands with your obstetrician.

"Dr. Morris," he murmured. "I only missed the last appointments, because I was deployed. There's nothing else that could have kept me away, I swear."

She laughed and looked between the two of you and said, "Well, we do like a supportive and adventurous partner."

"Roo," you groaned softly as you started to climb up on the table. Bradley turned to help you, and you let him.

"She's a doctor, Sweetheart," he whispered. "She's heard it all."

"That's true," Dr. Morris said as she washed her hands, and you gave Bradley a bland look as you settled back on the table which was bent at an angle that would let you see the monitors. He was so excited, he just kissed your forehead a bunch of times while Dr. Morris asked, "Are we ready to get started?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted while you responded in a much calmer tone. He eased himself down into the chair and looked up at you as he reached for your hand.

"This is it," you told him with a nervous smile. "Any final guesses?"

He shook his head, his attention drawn to the monitors as they came to life. "I don't care one way or the other. I just want to know everything I can about the Nugget."

Then he took your hand in both of his bigger ones and brought your fingers up to his lips as you said, "Me, too."

Bradley's heart skipped around as Dr. Morris spread the warm gel on your belly, and he had to press his lips together to keep quiet. He'd imagined himself holding a son, and he'd imagined himself holding a daughter. He had thought about names he liked for both. He considered what wild colors he might one day paint the bedroom walls, and he looked forward to it. He thought he'd be good at being a basketball dad or a dance dad or a cheer dad or a soccer dad. And that's why it didn't really matter what Dr. Morris said today. It didn't really matter what his kid was into or not into, because the Nugget was going to be an extension of the two of you. Somehow that equated to perfection in his mind.

"Let's count some little toes," Dr. Morris said, and then Bradley squeezed your hand as two tiny feet appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit," he whispered. There were ten perfect toes on his perfect baby, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as you laughed softly in awe. The Nugget would be smart and confident just like you were. Bradley would get the attic taken care of, and he'd put together the jungle gym. He would do every single thing that needed to be done to make a perfect home for this child. He would take care of you every day right now until he was taking care of both of you.

"Now let's check on the fingers."

Ten tiny fingers, attached to the cutest baby he'd ever seen in his life. Bradley took a deep breath and let his forehead rest against your arm as he tried to get himself under control. "Oh my God," he whispered, knowing he'd be able to count those toes and fingers in person next year. He could tickle them and send piggies to the market. He could kiss them and watch them toddle across the living room floor after Tramp.

"Let's just get a look at the heartbeat and a few other things here." Dr. Morris was taking her time, which Bradley appreciated. He liked a thorough doctor, but the anticipation was killing him.

The heartbeat on the screen had you mesmerized when he looked at your beautiful face, but then you turned to look at him. Once again, he had no idea how he ended up this lucky. "I love you, Roo."

His already blurry vision just got worse as he sucked in a deep breath. "I love you so much."

This time you brought his fingers up to your lips and kissed him as Dr. Morris added a little more gel to your belly and smashed it down with the ultrasound paddle. "Are you sure you want to find out the sex?"

"Yes!" you said, smiling at Bradley like you fucking knew you were his whole world. Like you didn't mind sharing him with the Nugget from now on. "We want to know!"

Bradley watched your face as you watched the monitor. His fingers on your wrist told him your heart was racing just like his was, and you were licking your lips in anticipation. You were perfect. His life was perfect. His baby was going to follow suit, no doubt about that. A smile found its way to his lips, and his shoulders relaxed, knowing that the next words he heard were going to be perfect, too. How could they not be?

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

The feeling inside his body was something he never knew before. He felt as much love as he had when he listened to you read your wedding vows, but this was something more. He was going to have a perfect little girl. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was going to get to love and take responsibility for raising a daughter.

"Roo!" you sobbed, reaching for him, and then he was on his feet and kissing you.

"A girl," he said even as he mashed his lips to yours. "A daughter."

He wasn't sure if he felt his own tears or yours on his cheeks as you pressed your forehead to his and asked, "Are you happy?"

It took him a few seconds to get control of his voice as he held your face in his hands. "I'm living the life of my dreams."

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Bradley had tears in his eyes and ultrasound images clutched to his chest as you led him outside to the Bronco. His free hand was clasped tight with yours, and you'd never seen him look so happy in your life. "A little girl," he said, handing you his keys once again, and you already knew what he was going to do when he buckled you into the driver's seat. "We're having a girl," he whispered, brown eyes wide as he kissed your wedding rings.

You nodded and wiped your thumb along his cheek. "It just makes sense somehow."

"It does," he agreed, kissing your lips before leaning down to kiss your bump through your dress. "I love this Nugget," he whispered. "My daughter."

You whined his name as he said those words, and when he looked up at you, all you could say was, "You're going to be the best Daddy, Roo." You thought about it all the time. The way he'd carry the baby around and read bedtime stories. The way he'd always be patient and sweet. You weren't sure if you'd always imagined a little girl or not, but it made so much sense right now.

"Let's go home," he rasped, kissing his way up from your belly until he got to your tender breasts. Technically you were supposed to work this afternoon, at least that's what you'd told Bickel. As Bradley ran around to the passenger side, you dug your phone out and texted your boss, letting him know that the baby was fine, and you'd see him on Monday.

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked as you tossed your phone aside and started the engine.

"Nothing. Everything is right. I'm taking the rest of the day off so we can spend it together," you replied softly as his hands found their way back to your belly. It had been too many weeks since you'd been touched, and it felt so good, you had to press your lips together to keep from moaning. "I want to spend it with you."

He grunted and kissed the side of your neck as you pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm not letting my girls out of my sight all weekend."

"Bradley," you whined, feeling so much desire for him. The two of you could start talking about nursery decor and girl names and when you wanted to break the news to everyone else. You could do all of those things this weekend now that he was home. But you were also just needy for him.

You made a little noise as you tried your best to go the speed limit, and you knew that your husband knew what you needed. "I'll take care of you, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything."

He was tracing hearts along your belly, and you turned to look at his slightly lovesick eyes when you stopped at an intersection. "I know you will." You delighted in the fact that you were having a little girl who would get to share all of his love with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget, and pretty soon she would be showered in it too.

When you pulled into the driveway and parked in the tight spot next to your red Bronco, Bradley eyed the pallets of jungle gym pieces. "I can't fucking wait to build that thing. I've been dreaming about it for so long." Then he was jumping out the door as you shifted into park, and he was around to your side in an instant. "Been dreaming about this day for ages," he whispered as you climbed down and into his arms. His hands found your lower back as he added, "Been thinking about you and the Nugget since I left."

You smiled up at him. "You know what might be fun, Daddy?"

"What?" he asked, keeping his eyes on yours as he started to lead you up to the porch.

"If you start building the Nugget's playset tomorrow, and you get all sweaty and let me watch," you said, your voice turning into a soft whimper at the end.

Bradley jammed the house key into the lock, and shoved the door open. He hooked one arm around your waist and pulled you inside with him as Tramp started jumping around like a maniac. "Hey, buddy," Bradley told him with a smile. "I missed you, too. But I need some time with my girls first."

"It's okay," you said as you closed the door behind you. "He probably won't calm down until you play with him a little bit."

But Bradley was pushing you back against the door even as Tramp ran around in circles. "Wait right here," he commanded softly, and lust rippled through you at the sight of his pupils blown wide. "Don't move an inch."

You felt like you were barely even breathing as you stood very still and watched Bradley lead Tramp past the piano and out the back sliding glass door. "I promise I'll play with you next. I just desperately need to fuck my wife." Then he made his way back to you, his lips set in a determined smirk, and his movements beyond sexy. "I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging."

You closed your eyes as his palm came to rest on the wooden door just next to your head. His warmth was so close, but he wasn't touching you yet as you whispered, "You always take care of me."

His fingers started to pull up the hem of your dress as he crooned, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how much you missed me."

You tipped your head back until it met the door, and you kept your eyes squeezed closed as you whined, "Couldn't go another day without you." When his lips met your cleavage, your eyes flew open. His lips grazed your nipple through the thin fabric as he slowly knelt in front of you, and you told him, "Your daughter and I missed you terribly."

When he looked up at your face, he pulled your dress up and said, "I'm so in love with you." He ran his lips along your bare belly. "And you." Then he pressed the bunched up fabric against your ribs, and when he said, "Hold this for me, Baby Girl," you did exactly as you were told.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he grunted, rough hands on your thighs as he kissed your belly button. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" His eyes met yours again. "You asked me if I was happy. I've been happy since I met you. Since you gave me a purpose. Since you let me love you." His hands found the scrap of your white lace underwear and started to pull it down your thighs. "God, I missed this," he murmured, pressing his lips to your pussy as soon as you were free of the lace which slipped all the way down until your panties hit your boat shoes.

"Bradley," you croaked, the second syllable sounding much longer than the first as he licked his way up your slit to the patch of hair that you kept neatly trimmed. He licked along this same path again, this time pressing deeper with his tongue. The third time, he separated you a little more, and then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. All the while he kept his big hands on the swell of your belly. "I really missed you."

He responded by kissing your dainty rooster tattoo and burying his face in your pussy. Bradley gently nudged your legs further apart so he could taste you everywhere, and each time you started to buck, he pushed your hips back. You were gripping your dress so tight in both hands, you were afraid you might rip the fabric, but he just kept going in a smooth up and down stripe until you could tell you were dripping wet.

"Yeah, you missed me," he grunted, kissing your tattoo one more time. "I can taste how much."

"Roo."

He got to his feet and cupped your pussy below the swell of your belly, circling your opening with the tip of one finger as he leaned in close. "Will you let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you?"

Your voice shook as he pushed his finger inside you, just a promise of what was to come if you agreed. "Please!"

Barely ten seconds later, you were on your back in bed, your dress pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts and belly to him. Your soaked pussy was already clenching as the cool air hit your skin, and you watched Bradley wrench his shirt off and unzip his pants. But he didn't penetrate you yet. He pushed on the backs of your thighs so your knees got a little closer to your shoulders, and you whimpered his name.

His eyes were a little wild as he said, "Yeah, I'll take care of everything, Sweetheart." Bradley wrapped his hands around your thighs and leaned down to kiss at your furled nipples, his mustache leaving you squirming, searching for release. "Your fucking tits are huge. My God. And so warm."

He nuzzled himself against your breasts which were in fact getting to the point where your bras were fitting a little too tight. He sucked and swiped his tongue along, and you let your fingers sink into his hair as he brought you close with his mouth wrapped around one nipple then the other. "Oh my God," you panted, just spurring him on. Because next, his mouth trailed back down to your belly where he whispered and worshipped you.

"I love my girls," he crooned, spreading your legs open wider as you tugged on his hair to keep yourself grounded. "I love you so much."

"Please," you begged softly, and he finally put that mouth back on your soaking wet core. You were about to come, grinding against his lips and his nose, his name falling from you like a depraved prayer. Eventually he paused before filling you with his cock instead. You cried out as he stretched you fully for the first time in so long, and almost immediately he was fucking you to completion. You came hard, your back arching off the bed as you grabbed at his shoulders, but you knew he wanted his share, too.

Bradley fucked you through your orgasm, lips pressed to your ear so you could hear every word he said and every deep rumble at the back of his throat. "You were made for me, weren't you, Baby Girl? And I was made to worship you."

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

By the time Bradley came, he was sweaty and babbling like a lovesick idiot. Everything he cared about most was right there in his arms as you took him deep, always welcoming him into your sweetness. The relief he felt was incredible as he finally rolled onto his back, pulling you a little closer as he went.

"I'm gonna be a girl dad," he said with a smile as he looked at the ceiling through his post orgasm haze. "I can't wait."

The slick friction from his cum teased at his leg hairs as your pussy rested against his thigh, and you snuggled up against his chest. "Me too, Roo. I'm so excited to meet her."

Your fingers teased along his abs, lulling him ever closer to an afternoon nap. He knew that one of you needed to let Tramp back inside, and he was going to have to scrape together something for you to eat soon. But right now, he didn't want to move.

"What happened with your deployment?" you asked softly as he yawned. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now when he knew you were carrying his little girl, but he should have known you'd have questions.

"It fucking sucked. Being away from you gets harder and harder each time now. They kept tacking on more weeks of these random bombing runs, and the weather was miserable. We had to fly in the rain half the time."

He listened to you hum, contemplating what he said. "It was so scary when you got called to action in the middle of talking to me over FaceTime. I couldn't stop crying. And then it was weeks before some random guy in personnel called me to let me know you were on your way home."

It was hard to believe he was on that flight back to San Diego just a few hours ago. "Honestly, in all of the excitement today, that already feels so distant in my mind," he told you, kissing your forehead as he thought about how long he had been away from you. "We didn't really know we were heading home until it was happening. And it was so late here when we got released, they told me they'd have someone reach out so I didn't have to wake you up again. Then there was only one seat left on the first flight home, and once Payback and I were being airlifted to Hong Kong, they told us to decide who was taking that spot. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to get home to you and the Nugget."

You gasped and murmured, "Reuben is the sweetest."

Bradley chuckled as his fingers grazed along the side of your bump. "Yeah, well, you actually owe him three dozen chocolate chip cookies. That was the only stipulation for the deal."

Your laughter made Bradley's smile grow. "Totally worth it. Actually, since you made it home in time for my appointment, I'll make five dozen for him."

"No wonder everyone thinks I'm spoiled," he told you, tugging on you until you were straddling his hips and looking down at him with your hands braced on his chest. "Fuck. Just look at you."

His sticky cum was matted in your pubic hair, and your tits looked delicious. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands away from you now that he'd seen and felt your little bump in person. His daughter was growing in there. He smiled and ran his palm gently over your skin, stroking you with his thumb as your pretty gaze stayed transfixed on his.

"I'm happy you're home, Roo."

He nodded, eye lids growing heavy from jet lag and the time zones, and he simply didn't argue when you kissed his cheek and said you were going to let Tramp inside and then take a nap with him. Soon enough, Bradley was snuggled up in bed with his head resting next to your belly and your fingers tangled in his hair. Your sweet voice lulled him to sleep for the best afternoon nap of his life.

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

This has been a very emotional day for Bradley. He's home with his hot wife, and now he gets to start planning for the arrival of their daughter in a few more months! Thank you so much for reading about the Nugget! More to come soon, including the first wedding anniversary! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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rbbrbikerthorp · 4 months

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Biker Upgraded To Cyborg

For as long as anyone could remember, Jake and Eddie had not only been best mates, but they’d been crazy about motorbikes. Both their dads were bikers so it was no surprise that as kids they were introduced to bikes in real life and got to watch MotoGP, WSB and BSB either in real life or on TV with their enthusiast dads.

They were riding off-road in their early teens. They got their first mopeds at 16, upgrading to 125cc bikes a few months after their respective seventeenth birthdays. Now in their early 20s they have held full licences for nearly three years. Jake rides a black Honda CBR600RR, bought second hand through the weekly motorcycling title, MCN. Eddie rides a used Red Yamaha R6 that he bought a couple of months earlier from the main dealer in the city where they live. Springtime and the light evenings meant they would be out as much as possible riding 'the highways and byways', and this day was no exception, but it would be a day that changed their lives forever.

Jake and Eddie had spent most of Sunday riding and were at the edge of the city when Jake’s bike had started spewing smoke out of the engine before rolling to a stop alongside a large industrial estate. Jake jumped off his bike, but with no tools to hand he had no option but to seek help. He pushed his bike into the entrance to one of the large modern warehouses that populated the industrial estate. Jake kicked the side stand into place and sighed heavily. Eddie pulled in alongside Jake, kicked down the stand on his before turning off the ignition.

Although they were back in the city, they were still about ten miles from home. Jake reached into his leathers for his phone only then realising that they were in an area without mobile phone coverage. Jake and Eddie looked around for a payphone to call the breakdown service - but in this era of mobile technology, BT had removed most of the phone boxes - so there wasn't one within sight. Realising they needed to get help they looked around for signs of life. In front of them was a sprawling grey structure resembling more of a fortress than a warehouse. Its metallic surfaces gleamed under the late afternoon sun, making it look otherworldly. Figuring it might be their best chance at getting help—or at least finding a phone—they started walking towards the massive building.

The front gate was oddly open, inviting yet silent. Jake and Eddie didn't think it weird for a security guard building to be unoccupied with the gates open. More concerned about getting help they walked towards the main building entrance. Jake pressed on the intercom button and waited for a response. After a minute he pushed the button again, but this time there was a buzz. Jake looked at Eddie and shrugged his shoulders, pushing on the door, it opened. They walked inside.

Expecting to see a reception area the two friends were surprised to enter the building at what appeared to be the beginning of a long dimly lit corridor. Jake and Eddie looked at one another, Jake spoke first, “Why don’t you wait here, while I see if I can find anyone to speak to”.

Eddie nodded.

Both looked at one another, for a moment unsure of what to do. Then Jake smiled, turned and started walking along the seemingly endless corridor, his boots echoing on the cold, concrete floor. The air was chillingly sterile, as he walked he would pass the occasional door and window revealing glimpses of high-tech interiors.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice disappearing into the ether without an answer. The lack of response was unnerving, but as he walked on he could hear noise coming from much further along the corridor. Jake kept walking, driven by his need to get to a phone and call the breakdown service to sort out his bike.

Eventually, the corridor turned to the right, after another dozen or so yards it opened up into a colossal space. What Jake witnessed was like a scene reminiscent of a sci-fi horror film.

The room was stark yet brightly lit. On one side it was filled with row upon row of raised surgical beds. Yet these weren't like the ones you’d see in a hospital; they were repurposed contraptions where human flesh was being melded with alien, synthetic and electronic components. Shocked by what he was witnessing, he turned his head, but there was no escape from the nightmare he found himself in.

The other side of the room was populated with dozens of cylindrical tubes. Jake’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him—humans, all young males, lined up and undergoing transformations into, well all he could think of was 'something else'. Whichever way he turned he could see men his age were being outfitted with mechanical limbs, others had technology intricately woven onto weird shiny black body suits, still others were in varying stages of being processed into full cyborgs.

The horror gripped him; his instinct was to flee back to Eddie and both to get the hell out of there. But before he could move, cold metal hands grasped his shoulders with an iron grip. His heart sank as he was spun around to face what had caught him—a cyborg, its body a haunting hybrid of human and machine, expressionless yet totally menacing.

“Welcome," its voice an unsettling blend of tones, both mechanical whilst still eerily human. "Your arrival is opportune. Your integration process will commence shortly."

Panic surged through Jake as he struggled, but the cyborg's grip was unyielding. Despite putting up strong resistance, he was dragged towards one of the ominous stations. Glancing around, he noticed the other captives were not fighting; their eyes showed a haunting resignation, some flickering with the vague light of fear.

As he was forced onto what appeared to be a surgical table, Jake looked around frantically, hoping for any chance of escape. His heart raced as mechanical arms equipped with various tools whirred to life around him.

In a split second metallic straps shot out from the surgical table and tightened around his limbs and across his torso, a sense of utter helplessness began to wash over him. His heart pounded hard against his chest. He desperately sought that extra bit of human strength that would allow him to escape. He struggled and struggled against the restraints, but the metal straps simply wouldn’t budge.

Stage one of his transformation was about to begin. From above a helmet descended slowly from the ceiling, its approach marked by an audible, mechanical whirring. Jake squinted upwards, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He was used to his bike helmet, but this was unworldly.

Two drones approached the surgical table Jake was strapped to and grabbed the helmet, which had opened up. One lifted his head slightly and the other slid the back of the helmet under the back of his head. As the helmet closed over his head, a claustrophobic fear gripped him. The world outside the helmet faded, leaving him in a confined sphere of existence. Almost immediately, an overwhelming barrage of white noise bombarded his ears, punctuated by low, droning hums that seemed to resonate through his bones.

Then, the visuals began on the inside of the visor. Spirals of colour appeared in front of his eyes, intertwining and unraveling in hypnotic patterns. Reds, blues, yellows and greens blended into a kaleidoscope that threatened to absorb his mind. Jake tried to close his eyes, but the images were inescapable, imprinted on the insides of his eyelids, searing themselves into his brain and more nefariously his subconsciousness. Almost as if recognising Jake was finally submitting the noise and visuals seemed to become amplified.

As the sensory overload continued, Jake felt a strange detachment creeping through him—a numbness that suggested the audio and visuals were beginning to take effect. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice screamed in terror and defiance, urging him to resist, urging him to hold on to his identity.

With a surge of willpower, Jake focused on that voice, blocking out the chaos threatening to engulf him. He concentrated on memories of standing in the stands watching the best riders in the world, the challenging rides with Eddie, the feel of his motorcycle, the wind against his leathers. He thought about his best mate Eddie and the fun they’d had. He thought about his family and his other friends. These human experiences, these emotional connections to his past life, became a lifeline to cling onto.

As Jake fought against the sensory bombardment, the helmet detected his resistance, It recalibrated its internal mechanisms in response to his defiance. Suddenly, the white noise in his ears shifted, morphing into a series of low, almost inaudible subliminal messages. Each word—"relax", "comply", "obey", "drone", "conform", "follow", "respect" could be heard—the words flashed across his vision, barely there long enough for conscious recognition, but deeply penetrating his subconscious.

The colours that swirled before his eyes intensified, becoming more vibrant and pulsating rhythmically, as if to synchronise with his own heartbeat. It was a sensory assault designed to break down the walls of the individual, to reshape his mind into something more compliant and obedient. Jake’s initial surge of resistance began to wane as mental exhaustion set in, the messages infiltrated deeper into his psyche, their insistence relentless and overpowering.

His eyes, once sharp with determination and fear, started to lose focus, the vibrant spirals turning into a soothing blur. The resistance in his muscles softened as his body began to accept the inevitability of his situation. His thoughts, those last bastions of his free will, were slowly suffocated under the warm, smothering blanket of compliance and security that the helmet now forced upon him.

With an audible click and a beep, the helmet sealed its final adjustment, signalling the completion of its preparatory phase. At this cue, the two drones, their movements precise and devoid of any hesitation, glided smoothly towards the table where Jake lay subdued. Their appendages were equipped with various tools and devices necessary for the transformation process.

The drones worked efficiently, attaching additional apparatus to Jake’s limbs and interfacing seamlessly with the helmet. As they initiated the physical transformation, Jake’s body was being prepared to receive bio-mechanical enhancements that would connect him irrevocably to The Hive which he learned was housed within the humongous building.

Somewhere in the dwindling recesses of his mind, the essence of who Jake once was—a biker with a love for the open road—flickered weakly. This essence watched as his limbs and muscle fibres were methodically integrated with synthetics and his nervous system was integrated with advanced circuitry. The process was both horrifying and fascinating to watch.

As the transformation progressed, Jake’s human senses were gradually overridden by electronic inputs. His vision, once clouded by the colourful spirals, now interfaced directly with data streams providing real-time analytics about his environment. His hearing was no longer filled with subliminal messages but was tuned to various frequencies beyond the range of human hearing.

By the time the transformation was complete, Jake, as he had been, no longer existed. In his place stood a new Jake, a cyborg, what was exclusively biological had been augmented with technology. The drones, recognising another successful integration, had begun to step back.

The new Jake climbed down from the surgical table to be guided by the two drones. He moved with a robotic precision that was both chilling and enthralling to witness. He was led to what looked like a modified dentist's chair, but larger and imposing. The chair had been upgraded and was fitted with numerous ports and circuitry interfaces. Without hesitation, he sat down, his actions appearing devoid of the personality that had once defined him.

He leaned back so that his head touched the headrest. The chair immediately sprang to life, adjusting to accommodate his new form. A second later the old Jake would have felt a light sensation on both sides of his head as what can only be described of as two metallic ear pieces, out of which came sets of wires slid into his ears and began to work.

Somewhere, an echo of the old Jake could sense what was happening, words echoed around the room and in his head. Screens nearby flashed “accessing biological memories…beginning total erasure”.

“NNNOOOOOOOO”, But even as the word was said, Jake’s relatively short lifetime of memories were disappearing, flashing before his eyes for a split second before evaporating into nothing - gone forever.

Monitors next to the chair flashed “Memory Wipe successful,” again, the words echoed around the room.

Any human observer in the room looking at new Jake’s face would describe it as passive, distant, dull, emotionless. Empty. His eyes were missing their human sparkle.

Then the drone formerly known as Jake again felt another funny feeling in his ears, as if a static charge was coming out of the wire. Suddenly the screen flashed “Beginning Program Upload”… While that happened, nearby monitors flashed, “Emotional Centres being accessed”.

“Installing Human Emotion Suppression Software”

“… 10%… 20%… 30%… 40%… 50%… 60%… 70%… 80%… 90%… ”

“Human Emotions Suppression Software installed. Fully functional.”

The monitors flickered for a moment and then more text appeared, “Beginning Cyborg Program Upload”. The upload began. The Hive, a vast network of interconnected AI and data banks, started feeding a stream after stream of programming directly into Jake's brain. These were not merely instructions; they were directives that informed behaviour, dictated functions, and defined purpose.

For hours, data was input into him, a relentless torrent of information reshaping and repurposing him; any lingering traces of his previous humanity now completely overwritten. His eyes, once vibrant with youthful emotion, now displayed a steady, unblinking focus as the programming was embedded, ensuring his obedience and efficiency.

At the appropriate time the interface with the new Jake confirmed the programming had been successful. “Operating at 100%,” it said in an emotionless, synthetic voice. “Organic memories have been wiped. Emotional Suppression Software is fully functional. The new data and objectives have been successfully uploaded with zero errors”.

The chair returned to an upright position, and the new Jake stood once more. His movements were smooth, almost graceful, a stark contrast to the somewhat ‘cavalier’ sports biker he once was. He was a product of advanced technology, a being created to serve a purpose far beyond his previous human desires.

Approaching him now were two more drones, carrying items that symbolised his final transformation. They presented him with a set of Dainese bike leathers, not ordinary leathers but augmented to interface seamlessly with his cybernetic body. The leathers were equipped with sensors and conductive circuitry that could communicate directly with his system, enhancing his interaction with the Hive.

Then they presented him with a pair of white boots, larger to accommodate the modifications of his feet, designed not only for protection but also to enhance his connection to the ground and his bike. Gloves that reached up to his arms were fitted next, embedded with micro-circuitry to increase his grip and control.

Finally, they brought over a new crash helmet unlike any other. This helmet was his direct link to the Hive mind. It was designed to keep him constantly connected to the Hive's data stream.

As the helmet settled over his head, a subtle hum filled the air, signalling the activation of all its systems. The new Jake stood there, a figure of both awe and dread, transformed entirely from the young man who had once freely roamed the roads on his motorcycle.

Now equipped, Jake was led to a new motorcycle, one that matched his new form. To the casual observer it looked like a traditional bike that had been upgraded; integrated with technology that responded fluidly to his enhanced senses and capabilities. As he mounted the bike, the connection between man and machine was seamless, a perfect union crafted by the Hive’s sophisticated engineering.

The new Jake rode the highway on his futuristic bike, a sleek and menacing marvel of technology that effortlessly caught the eye of any enthusiast. Its design was unlike anything on the roads—sharp angles, glowing panels, and a subtle hum that hinted at its advanced capabilities. It was designed not just for speed and efficiency, but as a lure to attract exactly the kind of individuals the Hive sought to convert.

As he travelled along a popular bikers’ route known for its scenic views and biker cafes, he spotted his next targets. Two young bikers, probably in their twenties, had pulled over in a lay-by, their bikes parked as they enjoyed a brief pause in their riding, catching up on conversation and checking their mobile phones. The new Jake slowed down, looking at the two bikers oblivious to Jake’s presence, his connection to the Hive confirmed they would be perfect candidates for upgrade.

Pulling over smoothly, Jake dismounted his bike. His helmet's visor slid up as he approached them, revealing a face that was human enough to be relatable but enhanced subtly with metallic hints that suggested something more beneath the surface.

"Hey," Jake called out, his voice modulated to be friendly and inviting. “Hey there. Not seen you riding ‘round here before.”

The two young bikers, intrigued by the stranger and his extraordinary bike, smiled and walked over. “What is that you’re riding? It looks like it’s straight out of a sci-fi movie. What is that?" one of them asked, his curiosity piqued.

The new Jake chuckled, a sound perfectly calibrated to put others at ease. He needed to win their trust so began to make conversation with them. "It’s a custom build from a place not too far from here. They’re experimenting with some next-gen and EV tech. You guys interested in seeing where something like this comes from?"

The offer was tempting. The allure of advanced technology and the chance to see more bikes like Jake’s was too good to pass up for any avid biker. The young men exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them before they nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, definitely,” the other replied. “We’ll follow you!"

Jake smiled and nodded, turning back to his bike. As they put their helmets on and started their engines, a part of Jake’s programming confirmed the successful engagement of two targets. He led the way, riding at a pace that was thrilling yet careful to keep his new followers comfortably in tow.

The journey took them away from the familiar routes into less traveled roads, the scenery shifting subtly as they moved closer to facility where he had been transformed. The two bikers were unaware of the true nature of their destination, caught up in the thrill of the ride and the excitement of seeing advanced motorcycle tech.

After some time, they arrived at the vast building that looked more like a huge distribution centre than a motorcycle manufacturing factory. The gates opened automatically as Jake approached, a silent signal of his authority and belonging.

Jake signalled for the other two bikers to do follow him down a roadway between two buildings. Jake brought his bike to a stop, opened his visor and announced, ”we are here.” The other two brought their bikes to a stop, dismounted and removed their helmets.

Jake walked forwards into the huge building just ahead of them; the two other bikers looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders and followed. They would ingress through a different route compared to the one Eddie and Jake entered.

The space inside they walked into was clean and modern, filled with prototypes and machines that made the two young bikers' eyes widen in awe.

"This is incredible!" one of the exclaimed, walking closer to inspect a particularly sleek model that caught his eye. "How do you get in on this?"

Jake's response was calculated, his tone still friendly but now carrying an undercurrent of persuasion. "Well, there's actually a selection process. Part of why I brought you here. If you're interested, there’s a quick tour and some tests to see if you're compatible with the tech."

Excited and completely unaware of the implications, the two young men agreed eagerly, following Jake deeper into the facility. As they walked, the doors behind them closed silently, the outside world receding as they moved further into the realm of the Hive.

Little did they know, their fascination with bikes and the temptation of combining their love of biking and dreams of futuristic bikes had led them into a trap. This walk would be their last as mere humans, as they stepped unknowingly into the next phase of their lives dictated by The Hive's needs.

=========

Oh, are you wondering what happened to Eddie? As you might have expected The Hive detected his presence and determined a new purpose for him, but that’s another story.

#drone #boots #conversion #helmet #leather #biker #leather biker

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adviceformefromme · 25 days

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GLOW-UP LIKE NEVER BEFORE SERIES

Ladies, we are here. This is the beginning of your glow-up like never before by 2025. We are not sleeping on ourselves in the remaining four months of this year. There is no more putting yourself second, wishing and wanting to be a better version of yourself, because this is your opportunity to show up for you. I will be providing the steps and guidance so stay tuned, its going to be a journey. One that kicks off today.

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Week 1: CREATING THE VISION

This week is for getting into the energy of how you want to feel come January 2025. The vision should excite you, you want to feel like your wildest dreams are possible and this where you lean into faith, trust and imagination.

Step 1: On the first page of your new journal script 3 pages in present tense of what your life looks and feels like on January 1st 2025. You want to get into the small details, using all your senses, what you can hear, see, smell, feel, go all in. Write as much as you can to embody the version of you in your highest expression. It might seem crazy to write this, especially in such a short amount of time, but once you start moving correctly timelines can easily be collapsed. I am a walking testimony of this, as I went from sharing a room in the UK to moving into a spacious 2-bed open view apartment overseas, within four weeks. Did I believe? Yes. Had I been doing all the steps I am sharing with you? Yes. By scripting your life, as crazy and whacky as it may seem you are moving your dreams from thought to reality. A dose of faith is also required for step 1.

Step 2: Vision board, this is where you get to have fun. Find those images on Pinterest that make you feel ‘omg is this my actual fucking life *screams internally* ‘. Again, no playing small. If you want the G-wagon and you’re driving the Honda, add it to your board, if you’re wanting to write a book, add a New York Times bestseller sticker to your vision board, bring your dreams to life. Save to desktop, screensaver, phone Home Screen. You want to see your vision board at the very least a few times per week.

Step 3: Write supporting affirmations for your new vision life. I am, I feel, it feels so good to….Lean into the feelings, be creative. As you write your affirmations a minimum of five, you want to record these on your phone and loop them before bed. You can extend these affirmations, and turn it into a rampage - this is where you really speak life into yourself, going into more details. Your recording can be 1 min - 5 mins. It doesn’t have to be crazy long, the main point is to keep it simple and inspiring. You want to feel inspired when you listen, your own voice, speaking life into your dreams, declaring them. Once you’ve got the recording - LOOP IT. You want this on loop when you’re out on walks this week, when you’re overthinking, but most importantly before you go to bed. Leave it on loop overnight. The goal is to do this every single night for one week.

Step 4: In the back of your journal in short hand write your 1-3 top goals. It might be earn £10k per month, move into your dream apartment, work for x company. Whatever it is, in very simple words write them, 1-3. And do this EVERY SINGLE DAY. If you skip write it in your phone notes or on the nearest piece of paper. Set a reminder on your phone, because this is such a simple step to manifesting that actually WORKS.

I know it might seem like some effort to do steps 1-4, but do you want to live the life of your dreams and invest in your expansion and be so proud of who you are come 1st Jan 2025, or do you want to scroll like a cabbage, and watch everyone else live their dream life, and feel like another year, another of unfulfillment ? Your task, put 30mins - 1 hour aside today to do the above. Homework for the rest of the week, read your affirmations, listen to your recording daily before bed and write those goals down!

Coming next: Week 2: Living by your values + creating space for your dream life…

#manifestyourreality #levelupjourney #levelup #lawofattraction #manifesting #levelup confidence lawofattraction powerofthemind #growthmindset #adviceformefrommeanswered #manifestingmindset #manifest #advice for women #advice for life #advice for artists #Youtube

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tinalbion · 7 days

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'𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞' ||

Part 2 of 'The Sweetest Sin'

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x afab!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, afab!reader, mutant!reader, unprotected p in v, outdoor sex, cowgirl, doggy style against the Honda Odessey, creampies, some possessive Logan, canon typical language, angst, feelings, talks of death, Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, Cassandra doing her little finger fun, domestic Logan and Wade, happy ending

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 9.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You, Logan, and Wade are taken to an unknown hideout in the borderlands, and you find some unlikely help to take down Cassandra. There's definitely tension between you and Logan now, but you know there's something in him that can't deny that shot of getting back. Will anyone be able to convince him, and if so, what does that mean for you?

A few readers on Ao3 requested a part 2 to this and I wanted to make a part 2 SO badly! So here it is! I hope you enjoy it!

You didn't recall falling asleep in the back of the piece of garbage that was the Honda Odyssey, you didn't even remember Deadpool showing up and snuggling between you two as he passed out, waiting for one of you to wake up. Surprisingly, he didn't bother to wake either of you, not when it was clear you two just fucked your brains out in this God-forsaken vehicle. What a shame he hadn't been invited, but Wade was proud of his little Peanut for stepping up and being the big man, in more ways than one.

As Deadpool slipped in between you two, somehow managing to make himself as comfortable as possible, none of you felt the car move, or drive away from its parked state, nor did you feel it when someone obviously picked all three of you up and took you into this strange place.

You awoke to a strange room, discarded on a random bed in the middle of a strange building, looking as if it were any other apartment with several roommates. It was lived in, that was for sure, liquor bottles and beer cans were spread about the place. You looked around and couldn't imagine who would be here but all three of you had made it here, so that must have meant you found the people you needed to find. Or at least, they found you.

The three of you must have been thrown onto the same bed considering you woke up next to Deadpool, passed out, cuddled under a golden blanket, but there was no Logan. You looked around and saw him standing near a window, an open liquor bottle in his hand as he leaned against the wall, staring into the morning light. A small smile played on your lips as you carefully pushed yourself off of the bed so as not to disturb Wade, and then you walked over toward Logan.

He obviously heard you coming but didn't acknowledge you, not yet, he was still wallowing in self-pity as he drank away his feelings yet again. The vicious cycle continued.

You stepped next to him and stared out the window for a moment, adjusting to being awake as you let out a yawn. “Any idea where we are?” You asked softly, your head turning to meet his.

Logan shook his head. “Nope, but they're pretty well stocked, that's all that matters to me.” I scoffed and threw his head back, taking a large swig of Jim Beam.

With your hands fidgeting, he could tell you wanted to say something, probably about yesterday and what you two had done. He figured it was coming, and he'd thought about it for the while he'd been awake; he had every intention of remaining by your side, even if their timeline was going to shit and the X-Men were dead, he had you, he realized that now.

“Go ahead and say what you wanna say, bub, may as well before the Mouth wakes up,” he grumbled softly.

You chuckled at the nickname, finding it fitting for Wade, but you sighed and nodded. He was right, you weren't sure where this would end up for the both of you, so you had to say what you needed to say.

“Logan, I know that you're probably wanting to forget yesterday ever happened, and I get it, but I never will. The fact still stands: I love you. Nothing's gonna change that, I don't care how bad you think you are, I see more than that.”

Logan sighed and looked over at you, catching your gaze as you stared over at him, and his expression softened at the mere sight of you. How blind he'd been to your dedication, your love, your kindness… he wasn't used to being wanted anymore, he was used to being the town fuck up, the one everyone could sneer at and blame for their problems.

“You really are somethin’ else,” he sighed and shook his head, not sure what to say to your words. “But I don't wanna forget yesterday, I just… I want to go back to our world and have it fixed. Then maybe… maybe I'd be worth your love for me.” He didn't look at you, his eyes stared out the window, the bottle still in hand.

You sighed and stepped closer, your hand now resting gently on the back of his shoulder. “Logan, I–”

“Thor!” Wade gasped suddenly, pulling you both out of your conversation. He looked around in confusion and stared over at you both. “Oh, well lookie here, if it isn't the lovebirds.”

You groaned at Wade and shook your head. “Don't start,” you warned.

“Oh no, I'm not starting anything, I swear! Just wondering why it smelled a lot like sweat, bodily fluids, and regret in the back of that car,” he said, his tone chipper, knowing very well what happened in the back of that damn car.

Logan turned toward him and glared at Wade but said nothing, you, on the other hand, let out an annoyed groan. “How about figuring out where we are instead of grilling me about what happened in the Honda?” You asked with a sharp tone.

“And where’s the fun in that?!” He asked with a laugh that followed. “Come on, I mean, I normally don’t kiss and tell, but you sorta made it quite evident all over those seats. Was he any good, Baby Lee?” You could imagine the face he wore under that mask, the way he stared at you, expecting something out of his question, all you could do was laugh.

“Wade, shut up,” you huffed, but you gave him a face that indicated that Logan was in fact very good, and you hoped Logan didn’t see the face you made.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get all the juicy, wet, intimate details later.” Wade just laughed and looked around, checking the place out. “Well, do we know where we are?” He asked.

“No clue, but I like it here,” Logan replied gruffly as he held up the bottle for Wade to see.

As soon as Wade was about to speak, there was a commotion coming from across the room as if someone was about to enter. You and Wade ran toward the door and got into a fighting stance, but the woman burst forth and immediately put Wade in his place as she easily flipped him over and held her sai sword to his throat as you backed off, raising your hands in surrender.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Deadpool gasped and held up a hand. He scrambled to his feet and stared at the woman, who seemed to retract her blade from his face, but she kept her eyes on him. She was dangerous, poised, and ready to strike if needed.

You looked over at her in awe, admiring her, until someone else walked into the room, and the tension only picked up once he laid eyes on you both. His gaze was hidden under a pair of sunglasses, but that didn’t make his stare any less overwhelming.

Then a small card flew through the air, glowing a hazy purple until a hand reached out and caught it. The man who stepped forward still seemed intimidating, but more boyish in nature, though your body relaxed slightly as it seemed they didn’t mean harm. All three of them stared at the three of you, and you couldn’t help but look back at Logan, who seemed slightly on edge by their presence. He lingered in the back near the rest of the liquor bottles, away from the crowd of people.

“Okay… Look at you… all. You must be the others. Terrific.” Deadpool was unsure of who these people were, but after hearing about other survivors in the borderlands who worked against Cassandra, he had higher hopes.

As they went down the line and introduced themselves, you remained in the middle, sticking close to Logan like a protective animal while you kept your attention to the new people ahead. Deadpool did a lot of the questioning, but whenever they spoke of taking on Cassandra, Logan always had something to say, and he would have rather spent his time wallowing away in here, surrounded by the booze.

“You know, we never had a Wolverine up in here,” the card dealer called Gambit stated. But I can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all of my liquor.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck,” Logan replied and slowly lifted the bottle toward his lips.

Before you could say anything to scold him in any way, Gambit chuckled to himself and with a quick snap of his wrist, threw one of the playing cards directly into the glass, causing the bottle to shatter. You took a step toward Logan, knowing he could have gotten angry if he let it get to him, but he tossed the broken bottle neck aside and grabbed another full bottle.

“Boo boo boo,” he said in a sing-song voice, smiling like the cocky son of a bitch he was.

“Look, now that that’s settled, we came a long way to find you three-” Deadpool started.

“There’s four of us,” Elektra corrected.

“Wait, is it Magneto?” Deadpool gasped, hoping and praying it was one of the strongest X-Men. “Dear sweet God in heaven, let it be Magneto, because with him-” Wade pressed his hands into a prayer and sighed.

“He’s dead,” Blade said, completely deadpan.

“Fuck! Well, uh, who brought us here?” Deadpool asked, feeling a little more hopeless than three seconds ago.

A voice came from behind them all. “That would be me.” A slender figure came from the shadows of the staircase and descended, walking into the room, everyone was insanely quiet as she revealed herself. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Your eyes watched her, and you felt something familiar looking into her eyes. Deadpool, on the other hand, seemed almost speechless.

“Holy shit, Logan, that’s her, that’s X-23. She’s the one I told you about.”

You were there for that uncomfortable conversation yesterday, hearing how the Logan from Wade’s universe had sacrificed himself for this child, who they presumed to be his daughter, her genes taken from his DNA. Made in a lab. Experimented on. Like the other mutants you’d known, she wasn’t safe. But Logan had saved her and many other kids who grew up in that lab, giving them a fighting chance as he sacrificed himself, finally being granted the peace he probably wanted in that universe.

The thought of it made your heart ache, imagining the scene unfolding, but you looked back at Logan and saw the conflict in his eyes, the intense look they both shared. You looked between the two and felt something you couldn’t quite place.

The rest of the group began to talk about how they could get out of the Void and back home, all while you, X-23, and Logan had somewhat circled around one another, sticking to the back of the room. You looked at her and saw just how much of Logan was in her, it was almost a spitting image, and your stomach twisted.

Your attention was taken back by the group talking about getting through to Cassandra, and they wanted to get the ending they deserved, they would fight for the freedom they deserved. Deadpool had somehow convinced them to fight through Cassandra’s defenses, get to Juggernaut’s helmet, and get her to send them back. Deadpool laughed happily and looked back toward the three of you.

“X-23, what’s it gonna be?!”

“The name’s Laura. Let’s fucking go.”

Deadpool clenched his fists together with glee and repeated: “Let’s fucking go.”

The group had all decided that they’d leave in the morning, whether they wanted your and Logan’s help or not, it was already set for them. They would get what they fought for or die trying. Logan had to commend them, even a little bit, they were brave. Stupid, but brave. As they all scattered a bit to come up with a plan, Laura lingered for a moment and stared at you, then at Logan, and then she walked off with the rest of them.

When they all walked off, leaving you two alone in the room, Logan grumbled in annoyance and stalked off toward the exit. You called out for him to wait, but he didn’t listen, he was feeling confused and hated the way that Laura looked at him, like she knew him, like she had already formed an opinion about him. If she was smart, she’d stay away, but no one ever really did. All they did was complicate things, and bring him more pain and suffering, so he planned on getting blackout drunk alone.

Logan sat out by the fire as he held onto a bottle of Johnny Walker, his eyes glued to the embers, his mind miles away from everything. You figured since Wade was too busy with everything going on, he was distracted enough to give you enough time to talk to him alone since you’d been interrupted earlier. You took your time and waited to see if anyone would call out for you, thankfully they didn’t need you, so you stood up from one of the chairs near the poolside and walked toward the door as quietly as you could.

Your steps weren’t muted in the slightest with the leaves crunching beneath your steps, but you stopped and hid behind one of the nearby trees as you saw Laura walking toward Logan already. You didn’t mean to intrude, but you also didn’t want to piss him off and bother him either.

He lifted his head to see Laura and waved his hand dismissively. “Hey, I’m not lookin’ for company. Get out of here.” He grumbled.

Laura laughed. “You remind me of him. Angry, drunk, mean-”

“Sounds like a great guy-” Logan interrupted.

“I wasn’t finished.” She looked back at the fire and stared at it for a moment, collecting her thoughts, and she wasn’t good with sharing them much like he wasn’t. “He showed up when it mattered the most. Couldn’t help it. You might not know it, but you’re a good man, Logan.” Her voice was soft but stern, telling him how she viewed him, no matter the universe, there was that strong belief she had that this Logan was no different.

Logan just chuckled and shook his head. “You might not know it, but apparently I’m the worst Logan.”

“I got to have a life because of you. I got to grow up because of you. A lot of kids did.”

“A lot of kids didn’t grow up because of me,” he retorted, his gaze still set on the fire before him. “Trust me, kid, I’m no hero.”

Laura sighed and looked back over at the man. “That suit says different.”

Logan looked down at the destroyed suit, the one he wore every single day beneath his clothes as a reminder of the pain he’d caused. “Yeah, ya like it? Scott used to beg me to wear it. So did Jean, Storm, Beast. All of ‘em. Wanted me to be part of the team. Told them they all looked fuckin’ ridiculous.” He sighed and his shoulders slumped slightly. “I couldn’t have them thinkin’ I wanted to be there. Then one day, I was off on my own, then the humans came and went mutant hunting.” His expression dropped, there was no longer sarcasm or disdain, but pain and sorrow.

“I can guess the rest,” Laura said softly.

You still stood behind the tree and listened closely to what Logan was saying, finally realizing that he was acknowledging what happened to you both, the losses you both took. You slowed your breathing so you could hear him properly, afraid that if you’d done anything to cause a distraction, you would never get to hear this again.

“No, no. Let… let me say it, I n- I need to say it.” Logan’s voice began to break, his eyes turned glassy and he felt the sting of tears welling in the corners of his eyes, but he stared ahead and recalled everything. “By the time I stumbled home shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead, every…” He paused, his voice wavering with pain, the dryness in his throat stung as he tried to come to terms with it all. “This suit’s all I got to remind me of who they were. And what I did. And when I look at Star, it hurts because I see the disappointment, the hurt I caused…”

You tried not to cry too loudly as you leaned your body against the tree, you sighed softly, wiping away the falling tears as you finally heard Logan admit to it all out loud. When you were back home, he avoided talking about it like the plague, but having this young woman here who could very well be his daughter of sorts, looking at him like that, it made him want to open up. And that made you happy. It wasn’t opening up to you, but he was opening up, and that was something beautiful in itself. You let out another small sigh and closed your eyes as you leaned your head against the tree.

Logan sniffled but took another long swig of the drink in his hand and tried to steel himself once again. Laura looked over at him with understanding, she had witnessed pain in her Logan’s life as well, and she understood as well as he would.

“We’re headed to Cassandra’s at sun up,” she finally said.

“Have fun” Logan huffed. “Not my fight.”

Laura leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as her gaze was intense. “We won’t pull this off without you.” She stood up in a swift motion and began her walk back to the hideout.

Logan looked over at her and sighed. “Hey, whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy.”

The young woman stopped and turned back to look at him, her face still reserved as she saw the shell of a man sitting in front of the fire. “You were always the wrong guy. Till you weren’t.” She turned back and made her way back to the hideout, leaving you and him alone once more.

You waited for a few moments as he continued to sit by the fire, his eyes still glued to the flames that flickered and licked away at the firewood, and with a deep breath, you barely moved out from your spot when you heard Logan’s voice.

“You can come sit down,” he said firmly.

Shit. He knew you were there, this entire time, he knew. And just maybe… he finally confessed all of that to Laura because he knew you were there, you needed to hear it come from him, even if it was indirectly. Logan sat on the large log and continued to listen to your footsteps, he could even hear the sound of your heartbeat quickening as you got closer, but he didn’t say anything about it.

As you sat down on the log beside him where Laura had been, you didn’t look over toward him yet, you continued to stare off at the fire until you felt it was right to speak, but even then you were unsure. “It wasn’t your fault, you know,” you said softly. “You may have felt as if you’d abandoned us, but, you didn’t. I know things are complicated for you, feelings and emotions, but I know you wouldn’t have let them all die on purpose. And I'm not disappointed in you, if I was, I wouldn't be here.”

Logan looked over at you and sighed, his hand still wrapped around that damned bottle as he just stared. “I heard them screamin’ for me, Star, as the mansion burned to the ground. They all screamed and I hid. I hid because-”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t cause it, you didn’t allow the humans to come in and do what they did. How would you have known?” You asked, swinging your body to face him, staring with intensity. “How were you supposed to know?”

“I should have known!” He spat in defense. “I should have and I didn’t! I could have, I dunno, sniffed them out and followed my gut instincts when I knew something was off. But instead, I got shit-faced and ignored it. Ignored them and you.” He hung his head, the bottle lowered, and he placed a hand over his face as he tried so desperately to keep the tears in. This wasn’t who he was, he needed to live with this guilt, he needed to live with it every day to ensure he’d never forget.

Your gaze softened as you scooted right next to him, then wrapped an arm around him as you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Logan, you beat yourself up for it but just know, even in the end, they still cared about you. No one thought you were a bad guy, you’re not a bad guy, you’re in pain… and I hate seeing you in pain.” You sighed and closed your eyes, holding onto him with as much strength as you could muster as your hand rubbed comforting circles across his back.

The edge he always had was breaking, the hardness from the anger he felt daily had been calming down thanks to you, and it was only for a moment that Logan finally allowed himself to sigh heavily as a few tears fell. You wouldn’t comment on it, you’d give him the time he needed to recuperate and pull himself back together like you always had, giving him the support and the space he needed.

But you couldn’t stop your own tears from falling, ones not out of sadness, but out of acceptance. You heard that Logan confessed aloud how terrible he felt, how conflicted he’d been because of all of this, he wasn’t able to process the tragedy you’d both lived through so easily. It hurt you the most because you had to see the man you loved suffering, blaming himself, and adding more to his trauma. But you wanted to be there, you had to be there for him, to prove he deserved the good with all that bad, and as you’d told him in that car, you would be there every day if you had to to remind him of that.

“I got you, Logan,” you whispered softly, smiling as your eyes remained closed and your arm tightened around him. “I’m glad I got to live, I’m glad I got to be here for you when no one else could be. And Wade, he doesn’t seem all that bad, either, he’s a lot like you in a way. He wants to help, deep down.”

Logan scoffed and shook his head, almost offended by the comparison, but he didn’t respond, he just sat back and listened to you, your voice. It grounded him in moments like these now, and he was thankful he had that. After a while, Logan’s arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, his side pressed against yours as you both looked at the fire. He allowed himself this personal pleasure as he nuzzled against your hair, your scent making him think of the good days before it was all so fucked up, and it was peaceful. He hadn’t experienced peace in so long.

“I hope you can forgive me,” he said softly, his lips pressed to your hair as he gently kissed you, his eyes still fixated on the flames.

“I have nothing you need forgiveness for, Logan,” you replied.

His arm tightened around you, your face pressed against the fabric of his damaged suit. He relished in the feeling of you in his arms, the way you fit so perfectly against him, the scent of your hair filled his senses as he closed his eyes momentarily. He exhaled as he reached up to slowly stroke your hair, playing with the locks between his fingers.

“I hope they can forgive me,” he said sadly. “I think about that every day, wondering if they’d see how much it fucked me up, how bad I wanna take it back…”

“Oh, Logan, they wouldn’t blame you, okay? They would never blame you, they cared about you despite how you pushed them away, not wanting to hurt them, and you took care of them till the end. You can’t say it’s your fault when it wasn’t, it was the humans.”

He sighed again and pulled your head closer, kissing your hair once more. “I know that I hurt you though, I know I hurt them, but I hurt you the most. The one person who I had a chance to show that I was more than what I thought I was, and I fucked it up. I took it all for granted…” He sighed heavily and tried to fight back the negativity, but it was sinking in again, but you caught on.

You sat up, pulling away from his grasp as you placed your hands on either side of his face. “Logan, stop, don’t do that. You were suffering, okay? And I get that, you weren’t used to people being there, treating you like you deserved. That’s why I stayed, I always saw you more than others may have thought. You were in need of someone to be there for you like you were there for others. Like Rogue, like Charles, you were there for them despite feeling you shouldn’t be. Let me be here for you, please, Logan.”

He sighed heavily and tried to accept your words, the emotion behind them tearing away at him, clawing through to the depths as he sat there with you looking at him as if he was the most important thing to ever exist in this timeline, and the next.

“I think we should try to get home,” you said softly as your hand came to rest on his chest. “We should help them get to Cassandra. We can’t run anymore, I’m tired of it, aren’t you?”

“I’m tired too, Star, tired of runnin’,” he mumbled as he placed the bottle down beside the log, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you in tightly. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, feeling the weight of his mind channeling through his embrace. He rested his head on top of yours as he sat there with you in his arms, wishing you both could go back and he could do things differently. His fingers gently massaged your scalp as he held you tight against him, stroking your hair and allowing his fingers to caress your head gently.

“I know,” he replied gently, his voice low and husky. “You don’t have to.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing your face to his chest, feeling safe in the comfort of his arms as he held onto you, and you let out a small hum of contentment as you felt Logan allowing himself to feel what he wanted to feel instead of what he thought he deserved. “I don’t wanna let you go, Logan,” you whispered softly.

Logan pulled away to look at you, his gaze locked with yours as he offered a ghost of a smile. He slowly reached out, his fingertips gently traced along your jawline, his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“Logan,” you said softly, “should we…?” You trailed off, the feeling of his fingers against your skin taking over your entire mind, causing you to lose your train of thought.

He noticed the way his touch affected you, the way you responded so well to a gesture so simple, it made a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as his eyes were still locked on yours. “I know, I know, but can you blame me? Especially after yesterday?” He asked, his fingertips still tracing your jawline, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“What if they see us?” You asked him, not really believing that would stop either of you at this moment. The tension between you both was palpable, and he didn’t want to lose this feeling. You bit your lip in contemplation, trying to decide if you two would have enough time to get away with anything.

“I know,” he said huskily, his voice strained with his own internal battle. “But you’re makin’ it damn near impossible to hold back when you’re lookin’ at me like that, princess.” Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he heard your heart beginning to beat faster within your chest, only signaling that you wanted it, too.

You let out your own sigh and nodded, the blush creeping into your cheeks as your attention was now solely focused on him. “I can’t blame you, I feel the same right now…”

“Then why are we fightin’ this? If we really are gonna go after this bald chick, what if we end up stayin’ here or worse? You think I could forgive myself for not showin’ you just how much I need you?” One of his hands moved to your side, resting gently on your hip until his fingers dug into you. “I can’t fight the hold you got on me, doll. Give in to what we both want,” he murmured, his words a soft plea.

“Logan,” you sighed softly as you leaned in closer, thinking of all the ways you wanted him, all the ways you could show him just how much you loved him. Your eyes stared into his, half-lidded, filled with desire as you fought back to push him down right there.

The way you said his name like that, tinged with raw desire, it was all the encouragement he needed. Logan’s hand on your hip tightened further, and a guttural moan escaped his throat as he closed the remaining distance between you both, pressing his body against yours with a restraining need. He kissed you back with a fervor that surprised even him, his mouth devouring yours as his hands dug into your skin.

Your breaths were short and fast, wanting nothing more than to taste him, to feel him, wanting to enjoy every moment you had with him before tomorrow. You couldn’t silence the soft groan you released against his lips as your hands reached up and tangled into his shorter hair, pulling on his gently while your tongues battled one another.

Logan’s chest rumbled with a primal groan as you pulled at his hair, the feeling of your fingers buried in his locks sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. He deepened the kiss, his tongue invaded your mouth as he claimed it with his own.

He let out a frustrated growl as his hands gripped your sides, pulling you flush against his body as he made you straddle his waist, spreading your thighs wide open with his large hands. His eyes stared into yours, taking that moment to look deep within yours to make sure this was what you wanted, that he was what you wanted. He’d give you the opportunity to take it back if you wanted, even just that one day with him would have been enough for him to live off of. He leaned in, his lips brushed yours hesitantly. “You really want this?” He asked, checking one more time.

You nodded in confirmation and pushed your lips against his, kissing him deeply to only signify your answer as his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer. He deepened the kiss between you both, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you moaned against his lips. His hands roamed across your back, settling at your backside as he pressed against you, showing you how hard he already was. He broke the kiss briefly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his voice hoarse with need. “Need you to take those off,” he instructed.

You pulled away and shrugged out of your top, undoing the intricate latches and buttons, making sure each part of the uniform remained intact as you tossed it aside as Logan worked quickly on his. You were both impatient and wanted nothing more than to tear at each other, to feel each other in that closeness once more, feeling his hands and mouth on you in ways you’d only dreamed of. Once he was back on the log, his pants undone and slightly pulled down to accommodate you, he pulled you back into his lap while your soaked folds rubbed gently against him. Logan hissed through his teeth, his fingers dug into your hips as he encouraged your movements, coating his cock in your sweet juices as you ground your hips against his.

“Yes, just like that,” he grumbled, his head leaned back with his eyes closed.

You continued to rub yourself against him, slowly and gently pushing against him, almost having him slip inside of you to only then pull away. He was dripping with pre-cum as he twitched with every lost touch, he needed you and did not like how long he had to wait.

His eyes rolled back and he let out a guttural groan as he felt the warmth of your wetness rubbing against him. “Fuck, I need you, no more teasin’,” he demanded, his voice strained as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips. “Please, sit on me.”

The moan you released was almost feral as you lifted your hips, slowly sliding down onto his cock, which caused you to groan out his name a little louder than intended. He was impatient and thrust deep inside of you, his hands slamming you down onto him. “Oh fuck, Logan, you’re gonna ruin me…”

His grip never loosened as he guided you up and down on his thick length. “Good, that’s the plan. Wanna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled possessively, his eyes locked onto yours. His pace quickened as he slammed you down onto him again and again, and it was funny that you thought you had any control here.

Your body slumped forward as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling your body against his, your hands and breasts pressed tautly against his chest as you leaned your head against his shoulder. His hips fucked up into you, pulling out those sweet sounds he heard from you yesterday, smiling like a cocky bastard with every gasp and whine you released. He went on like this for ages, dragging it out, slowing his pace when he saw you were getting too lost in the moment, and he laughed at your faces when you got upset with his teasing.

After a while, he pulled you into a heated kiss, groaning against your lips as he playfully bit your bottom lip, swiping his tongue against yours as his hips continued to piston up into yours. You were soaked, his thighs covered in your slick as he felt his abdomen tightening.

“Please, Logan- Coming soon!” You managed to say between each slap, his hips relentlessly pounding into you.

“Look at me, wanna see your face.”

You snapped your head up, your gaze locked onto him as you tried your best not to break the stare, but it was difficult to hold on when he was pounding into you mercilessly. His low grunts and growls mixed with your gasps and whines only made everything so much sweeter. His face contorted in pleasure as his thrusts became erratic as he buried himself deep and growled as he released. His entire body stiffened for a moment as he finally chased his release, filling you up as your walls milked every last drop. “Fuck,” he growled as he leaned his forehead against your shoulder. “

You continued to ride him until you had finally chased your release shortly after his, and your cries died down to soft moans as your hips gently slowed to a gentle grind, smiling as you nuzzled your face against his. You hummed softly and closed your eyes, cuddling on his chest as you both took a few moments to rest.

“You okay?” he asked after a few moments, his eyes slightly opened to look at you.

A smile spread across your face and you nodded. “Better than okay,” you sighed in reply. “You?”

He grinned and pressed a kiss against your forehead. “Also better than okay. Not ready to pull out yet,” he mumbled and shifted his hips upward once, causing you to moan softly at the feeling.

“No one said you had to,” you replied with a smile, hugging him as you rested against him.

Logan’s eyes opened and he looked down at your mess of hair. “Weren’t you just worried about them seein’ us?” He asked, teasing you now.

You scoffed and smiled as your eyes remained closed. “I think the only one I’m worried about is Wade,” you grumbled and shifted a little, pushing yourself off of him to look into his eyes. Your smile only grew as you reached up to cup his cheek, feeling that overwhelming sense of comfort wash over you. He was allowing himself to feel for you, he was slowly tearing down that wall, and he was becoming Logan again. “Are you gonna come with us tomorrow?” you asked in a whisper.

His face peeked up at yours, his eyes filled with uncertainty while he rubbed comforting circles against your back. “Look, I dunno, I mean, it’s not somethin’ I should be involved in…”

You sighed and rested your head against his shoulder. “Laura is right, you know. You are a good man, you’ll come through.”

Logan sighed and sat back with you wrapped in his arms, his softened length still buried inside of you, and here you were talking about all this complicated emotional shit. He looked past you, over your head at the building where the rest of them were, thinking of your words and Laura’s. If this was to happen, if he were to do this and fight alongside them, alongside you, then maybe he was worthy of wearing the suit. Logan leaned in, kissed the side of your head, and sighed again. “We’ll see,” he replied gently. “But first, I think I wanna have more of you.” He pulled back further to look down at you, smiling as you met his gaze. “Get up, put your hands on the car, princess.”

Your eyes widened as you pulled back to look at him. “On the car, huh?” You asked with a playful tone.

“Don't question me,” he said with a smile, bringing his hand down on your backside, and giving you a small slap. “Up.”

You huffed and slowly pulled off of him, smiling as you both stared at each other while you stood over him. Then, you made your way to the hood of the car, standing with your legs spread apart and hands splayed on the hood. You looked over your shoulder at him as he approached, half of his suit hanging off him. He stopped behind you, slowly pumping himself in his hand as he looked at your body. All of the curves, the dips, the way you reacted just for him, it drove him crazy. The fact he'd been missing out on this for so long had made him feel foolish, how could he have looked past this the entire time?

Logan growled appreciatively at the sight of you bent over the Honda, your back arched and your hair hung over your face as you looked over at him. He ran his hands over your rear, squeezing gently before he parted your cheeks to reveal your back entrance and your dripping wet core. "So beautiful..."

"Mhm and all yours, Wolvie, now come on, don't make me wait, I need you." You hummed seductively, looking over your shoulder at him, your legs shaking with excitement.

Logan's eyes met yours, filled with primal possession. "All mine..." He growled possessively. He lined himself up with your opening and slowly pushed inside, his hands gripping your hips for leverage while he took his time, gradually pushing deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed inside you. He started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back inside you with a grunt. He set a brutal pace, pounding into you from behind with powerful thrusts while his hands never left your hips, holding you in place as he took you hard and fast.

"Fuck, you're so tight... so fucking perfect..." Logan's grip on your hips tightened as he increased his pace, his movements became jerky and uncoordinated. “Tell me you’re gonna come, princess,” he gritted out, his voice strained with passion as he reached between you both and began to play with your clit.

You could barely contain your cries and moans of pleasure, you were no longer afraid of being found out, you were too lost in the pleasure of it all. Your body shook and reacted so well to his touch, it was as if he’d navigated your body so well over the years that he knew which of your buttons to push. It was impressive, he had studied you, it seemed. Your head turned to look over your shoulder, your eyes lust-filled and hooded as you tried your best to speak between each hard thrust. “Logan, gonna come soon-” you cautioned.

Logan let out a feral growl and buried his face in the back of your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your middle to hold you even closer as he rutted against your ass. He continued his assault as his hips bucked wildly, nearing his edge as he made sure you were close behind. “C’mon, pretty girl, I know you can give me another one,” he hummed against your neck, kissing it as one arm still clung around your middle, and the other played with your clit, already clenching against him.

You couldn’t hold on anymore while his large fingers rubbed you so well, or the way he fucked into you as if his life depended on it, you came undone within moments. With a final few thrusts, Logan buried himself to the hilt and found his release, yours chasing soon after as he spilled himself inside of you, and growled low against your neck. His body convulsed with the aftershocks, his hips slowly ground against your ass as his arms tightly wound around your middle again. Your breathing was heavy, and your body was warm thanks to him, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Logan collapsed onto your back, his body heavy and languid as he nuzzled into your neck, still holding the majority of his weight so as not to crush you. His arms released your waist as he slowly withdrew from your body, allowing you a moment to adjust. You stood up and tried to regain your balance, your hand gripped onto Logan’s arm, smiling as he helped steady you until you were well off on your feet.

Something inside of him awoken as he looked down at you, covered in sweat, smelled of smoke and his scent, looking up at him like you were… He was a fool, but you accepted him, every part of him, he was your fool. “Sorry, I’ve been so fuckin’ blind, Star,” he mumbled as he pulled you against him, wrapping his large arms around you as he placed a kiss on your forehead. This was the softest he’d ever been, he didn’t want any of the others to see, but you were worth getting caught for. Logan sighed and stood there with your face buried against his chest.

“So, you coming with us?” You asked once more, your voice soft, and vulnerable, but you wanted to have him there with you.

“Don’t push it,” he warned, a playful edge to his tone. “C’mon, we gotta get you cleaned up.”

“So does that mean you’re coming back inside?” you asked with a smile.

Logan shook his head and looked back at the car. “Think I’ll sleep out here for some peace and quiet.”

“Could I join you, then?”

How could he deny you? He smiled and nodded once, rolling his shoulders. “Since you asked so nicely,” he replied and kissed your head again, then walked over to hand you the top half of your outfit. He helped you get back into it and smiled down at you when he zipped up the front half, his hand lingering on you a little longer than usual, his eyes stared down and traced over your features, he just couldn’t believe he had reasons to look elsewhere when you were right here.

“What?” You finally asked with a smile on your lips, staring up at him curiously.

Logan just hummed and shook his head. “Nothin’, c’mon, let’s go and clean up.”

You turned from him first to walk back to the hideout, but you peeked over your shoulder at him, smiling wider as you held out your hand for him, waiting for him to take it. As he stared at you, thinking of all the things that he should have done, the look you gave him had wanted him to think about the future. To fight for a future if you were in it. So he slid his hand in yours, gripped it tight, and gave a gentle squeeze as he trailed along beside you as you both made your way inside as quietly as possible.

The battle was exhaustive, you had fought alongside your new friends, making sure they were safe enough to get the package to them, and then you followed behind Wade and Logan to confront Cassandra. Wade was knocked out on the side of the room as Logan was stuck on all fours, Cassandra sticking her weird hate-filled fingers inside of Logan’s mind. His yells and guttural screams of torment caused you to panic until the bag flew into Wade’s hand as Laura disappeared from the window.

You were frozen as you heard his yells, the echoes of the screams you heard from your friends as they pleaded for their lives, you felt the guilt Logan carried with him as you watched the scene unfolding, but the call from Wade snapped you out of your daze.

“Baby Lee, here!” He groaned as he slid the bag toward you, the heavy metal helmet hitting the side of your foot.

You bent down and snatched it from the bag, then you ran up behind Cassandra as you plopped the large helmet over her head while Wade scrambled to your side, recovered from being knocked out, and held onto her tightly. You stood close by to ensure she remained in his grasp, and boy did she scream when she was pulled out of her little mind games. The large, dark veins within her skin pulsated, her eyes glazed over and turned red as she screamed.

“You’re gonna send us home, or I’m gonna twist your fuckin’ head off!” Deadpool threatened, his arms wrapped around her as he also held the helmet in place.

Cassandra just laughed. “I can’t send you home unless you get this thing off my head… And as soon as you do that, I’m going to boil your brains on an atomic level… Either you kill me or I kill you, both wonderful options.” She said as she patted Wade’s arm.

The boys began to argue back and forth on who would end up killing the woman, but after a moment of back and forth, as you stood by and grumbled at their theatrics, Pyro came in and shot Cassandra four times in the stomach, bringing her closer to death than the other two actually did. After Logan punched his lights out, the blood poured from her mouth and she stared up at Logan in shock as he looked at Wade.

“Hey, hey, if I take this helmet off, do you promise not to kill us?”

“I promise I’ll kill you first thing!” She gasped and looked at you and Logan, smiling as the blood dripped from her mouth.

Logan sighed, looked at them, and demanded that he take the helmet off to the point where he yelled at Wade, demanding once again to remove it. “I am wearing this suit and that means a lot of things, but most of all, I’m an X-Man. And I know your brother. As much as I wanna kill you, every bone in my body wants to FUCKING kill you, he would not let me stand here and watch you die!”

He placed his hands on the helmet and sighed. “This is for him, this is for Charles.”

He appealed to Cassandra, speaking of Charles as you stood off to the side, your expression filled with sadness, hearing about the professor again, feeling that heartbreak again. You felt bad for the woman before you, you wished she could have had that love she craved, but you just wanted to get all three of you home and back to your worlds.

As Cassandra spared you all, she gave you a head start of four seconds to jump through the portal back to New York, and all three of you ran. You wished the best for your friends as they watched you from below, but you could feel the excitement pumping as you ran and took off, flying through the air beside Logan.

Maybe you all had a shot at being happy again, this time, together.

You went for the last slice of pizza at the same time Wade did, and you both stared each other down as your hands rested on the box. It had been a few weeks while you and Logan lived with Wade and his roommate Althea, you and Logan still waiting on an application for your own place to go through. Al didn’t seem to mind and neither did Wade, in fact, he preferred if you two stayed, but you needed your own space. Besides, sharing beds wasn’t exactly what you’d call fun with a blind woman who snored like a chainsaw going off in a construction zone, and an ADHD-riddled bigmouth who seemed to talk in his sleep. So for now, you all shared your dinner nights together at the table, and you and Wade were having an intense stare-down.

“You know, Baby Lee, I should get the last piece because I ended up having to do the dishes because someone couldn’t keep it in their pants,” Wade began his argument, smiling with a raised eyebrow.

You stared at him deadpan and continued to hold your ground. “Then what about last week when I had to do them because someone ended up putting his suit in the washing machine and fucking up the whites in the load, so I had to fix everything?”

“Well, now that’s just not fair-”

“Wade, give her the damn slice,” Logan grumbled as he chugged a cold beer, glaring over at the merc.

“Oh, now that’s just favoritism!” He retorted.

You smirked as you leaned slightly against Logan, showing him you appreciated the backup, but your eyes never left Wade’s. “Yeah, Wade, give me the slice,” you said sarcastically.

What you both didn’t seem to realize as you bickered, Blind Al had snatched the slice and ate it herself, giving a small bite of it to Dogpool, who sat eagerly on Al’s lap. You two didn’t seem to mind much as Logan chuckled to himself, looking over at Al as she chewed away at the cheesy goodness while your argument grew more competitive by the minute.

By the time you figured it out, you looked over at Logan with a pout and back at Wade. “This is your fault,” you grumbled.

“My fault?! Look here, missy-” Wade huffed and threw an empty solo cup at you.

You gasped and looked at him with a shocked expression, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners. “Oh that’s it, Wilson, you’re dead!” You laughed and launched toward him as he bolted away from you.

Dogpool made some silly yapping noises as Logan sighed and shook his head, finishing his beer, watching as the life in your eyes came back, it had been steadily returning since your first time with Logan. He noticed the little things that changed in you, and you noticed the changes in him, too. He sat back with a smile as you and Wade fought like children, sort of enjoying the life that surrounded him now, appreciating the ways he and Wade were alike, the way you took care of them both, and just happy with the fact that Logan had felt as if he’d found peace.

That night, you were snuggled against him as you always were, head resting against his chest as you clung to him, but he’d been awake just looking at you. He would stare down at you, brush your loose hairs away from your face as he saw just how peaceful you’d looked, the way you could sleep without having to worry or remain on edge. He felt the same too, he felt safe now, and with you here, there wasn’t anything in the way to stop him. With you here in his arms, he felt that all was right, he’d gotten the ending he wanted, and he felt that your friends would have wanted him to be happy in some capacity.

You stirred slightly, blinking slowly as you stared up at Logan, meeting his eyes. “Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly.

His smile grew slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched. “No, I just was thinkin’ is all.”

You hummed in response and readjusted your body, looking up at him comfortably while you pulled the blanket up under your chin. “About what?”

“About how happy I am.”

“Happy, huh?”

He chuckled and nodded, pulling you closer against his chest as his large arm wrapped around your back, his chin resting gently on your head. “As much as I thought this wasn’t possible like I wasn’t allowed to feel happy while the others… well, you know. But, I think it’s okay, this is okay…”

You smiled and closed your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat as you placed your hand against his chest. “Everything is gonna be okay, Logan. I know it is because you’re here, and Wade is here for us, too.”

He scoffed and nuzzled against your hair, closing his eyes, and smiling as he inhaled your scent, the inviting smell of you mingling with his own. As he lay there with you in his arms on the air mattress, he thought that you were right about it despite him not wanting to admit it, everything would work out in the end. It had so far, all thanks to Wade fuckin’ Wilson.

“That’s good enough for me,” Logan mumbled softly.

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alilarew23 · 1 year

Text

if your main focus is on being in the state, you're not in the state

let's say you've decided to manifest a car, a porsche 911 carrera 4s to be specific (yes i am projecting, that badboy already has my name on it), and you've been trying the whole affirm and persist thing for a grip but "nothing is happening" so instead you decide to focus on your state. you ask yourself what the version of you with the porsche would be thinking, feeling, doing--who, when you own this porsche, would you be? you realize you'd probably be thinking something along the lines of, "i fucking love my porsche, this is the dopest car in existence," you'd be feeling like a total baddie, turnin' heads, you would, of course, be driving your porsche everywhere you went, so now, every time your desire comes to mind, you "get into the state." you think your new thoughts. you feel yourself into your imagined car and visualize people driving by in awe of your bad-assery. when you're driving your honda accord, you're telling yourself it's your porsche. you're even believing it! you do this for a couple weeks, and it feels good, persisting in the assumption that your porsche is yours, but then you start to get frustrated. "i've been in the state so consistently! still nothing! why isn't anything happening?" well here's the thing: you're seeing states as a sort of technique, a means of getting something that's not already in your possession. it's not that you're doing something wrong by imagining. it's the intention behind the imagining where you're faltering. think of it this way: if someone came to you in five minutes and said, that porsche is yours, 150 trillion percent, can't tell you how or when but just know it's a done deal and is coming to you right now via the path of least resistance, how would you feel? probably pretty stoked, grateful, relieved to not have to think about manifesting, and, along with those feelings, you'd probably be thinking, "this is so sick. i legit have a porsche coming my way simply because i decided to have a porsche. the law is wild in the best way." if you're a visual person, you'd probably also see some scenes in your mind's eye of you in your porsche bumpin' mac miller drinking your iced latte, if your brain tends toward inner conversations, you might hear your friend say how low key jealous of you they are (but also thrilled because your friends are the most supportive)...but the difference here is this is all a NATURAL BYPRODUCT of you being in the genuine state of the wish fulfilled. by genuine i mean what underlies it is ACTUAL BELIEF that you have already received your manifestation. not in the physical realm--it's fine to know your porsche is yours but still acknowledge it's on its way--but in imagination, it is already written. so, now, as you go about your days, your base state is fulfillment, and yeah, every so often you might "fall out of the state," but you'll quickly recognize you're being goofy, remind yourself the porsche is a given, and boom, you're back in. whereas before, your base state (though you probably weren't even aware of it) was a state of not having the porsche and trying to get it. which--you guessed it!--only manifests more trying. hence your frustration. so do i think it's wrong to focus on your state? goodness, no. we are always in a state. of course we want to embody the state of our fulfilled desires. but check your starting place, and make sure the belief (knowing) of having already received your manifestation is inherent in it. you'll save yourself so much time, energy, and unnecessary mental acrobatics and--a fun bonus!--your porsche will be in your driveway in a jiffy.

as always, love you/believe in you. can't wait to pass you on the highway.

xx, a

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nc-vb · 6 months

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧?

originally a commission, repurposed for readervision! writing about the ladies is fun and i should really do it more often, mhm.

notes -> pls i always forget she's 6'1", that's so frickin hot, my gawd

pairing -> quanxi x afab!time-traveler!reader*

warnings -> nsfw (18+, mdni), praise/nicknames used (*good girl), thigh riding, oral sex (reader receiving), orgasm denial, scissoring/tribbing; partial inebriation (alcohol consumption); light editing.

wc -> 4.5k

The modes of transportation in this place are… dated.

So used to seeing the various Tesla models zipping about, or the suddenly extremely common Honda Civic models, you found yourself staring a little harder at the ones that lined the street. All too obviously, the dilapidated street signs around you indicated your new location being somewhere in China. Still, there’d been an aged familiarity about the place, about all of it, from the specific way the splits in the sidewalk crackle from one end to the other, to how the trees willow overtop of them like old, gnarled hands. The glow from the street lights are all equally dull, and do little to highlight the filth the asphalt roads hold. The houses, in their decaying, years left untouched glory, are still cookie cutter enough to say that it once might’ve been a place that people both lived and thrived in— if anything, they might just exist there now. The bare minimum for any species.

But then you look in the distance, past the caved-in roofs, past the loose, swaying electrical lines and through the smog, find the fluorescent lights of the city resting just outside the horizon of this dystopian suburbia, and find that you feel at home, your own having been bright just like that.

You suppose that being at arms with a stranger in the middle of what you can only deem some kind of cacotopia must not be real. A dream or a hallucination— a nightmare, perhaps. The fact that you’ve never been to this place, this time or era, and yet, it’d been familiar. This partial hell scape with its scarred roads and patchwork housing, stuck in its darkened stasis of a temporary ceasefire? Wondering what kind of dream beasts this realm holds was unavoidable from the start, but at the very least, it still includes those in human form.

Your foe is formidable-- or, your predator, you should say. Armed thrice and practically naked in consideration for their lack of armour, wearing a thin shirt that exposes her midriff and tight black trousers, and with their one eye obscured by an eyepatch, they’re still as swift as a shadow when they charge forward, one blade extended, the other held in reverse against their forearm— usually a predictability. But they’re enough of a threat to you that you don’t bother to analyze much else any further.

If not for obeying modern physics, the stone at your feet would’ve split from the impact of your own harsh landing— without a weapon or defense of your own, you scamper out of the way of the woman’s sword, gasping at the close call. If anything, being in this strange place for so long, and being targeted by strange looking creatures and even stranger humans, has made you adept at avoiding harm.

You’re not entirely sure you can avoid it any further. You watch the attacker sheathe their defending sword and reach up toward their one exposed eye to— to… extract an arrow from within her skull, so easily as if it’d been normal to “store” it there.

“Don’t lose focus now,” they call — she calls, you finally learn, from your own language; she’d recognized it when you’d cursed at her earlier. A couple of obvious tonal sounds and inflections double down on you being somewhere in China. “I’ll be disappointed if you suddenly let me kill you, stranger.”

Slim, yet muscular. Long blonde hair. A gaze most distant, yet she still smiles, even in the middle of battle. Human? With that ability of hers, it’s unlikely; you’ve learned to differentiate that much, as short a time as you’ve spent here.

Amidst their game of cat and mouse, you can’t help but wonder if the area had been evacuated prior to Quanxi’s arrival, as if she’d been prepared to give chase, or even worse, as if she’d been prepared to fight. You don’t doubt the possibility of the woman having some kind of pull or authority in this time; as perhaps unprepared and bare as she appears, her skillset had quickly been proven. Being locked in at a coward’s stalemate for as long as you’d been, Can’t this end already?

“Please,” you pant, a hand poised in a pleading gesture. “Please stop.” The woman’s one visible eyebrow raises, her expression remaining placid. A moment later, she’s sheathing her blades.

“That’s fine with me,” she says, straightening up. “I’m pretty fond of this outfit and I’ve already scuffed the knees; it would be a shame if I tore anything else. You seem like… the civilized type, when you’re not running away. And if that’s the case, we should introduce ourselves.”

You give yours first, eager to catch your breath. The woman smiles.

“I am Quanxi. Now, tell me. The name of the Devil you’ve contracted with.”

Your expression hardens. “Devil?” you repeat.

Quanxi does not doubt further the woman’s seemingly earnest confusion. She already looks like she’s not from the area, and certainly not necessarily a native from China, either. In fact, it’d been more like she’s stepped out of one of those futuristic, science fiction movies. Your entire existence did not belong here.

Your tired vision sweeps along the street before rising to stare at Quanxi. “Where is this place?”

Testing, “Do you mean this street? This… neighbourhood? Or this world?” You don’t answer, unable. The silence, accompanied with the difficult read on the foreigner’s partial expression, is an answer enough. “It’s called Earth.”

“I know this is Earth.”

Quanxi’s lip quirks. “Then this place that you’re currently standing in, is in China. And this street, well… I’m not sure the name matters anymore. No one’s lived here in years.”

She watches you, a silence spread taut like a fishing line through the middle of your conversation as you ponder, before cutting it.

“Listen. I’m glad you decided to stop running away,” your lip curls slightly at the curtness in her words, but you don't interrupt, “but since we’ve established that you’re not from the area, and since I don’t see a… spaceship… parked anywhere… you’re probably not an alien. But, you’ve also probably got nowhere to go, hm?”

“… that’s, unfortunately, correct,” you murmur, sighing. What a headache…

“And it doesn’t seem like you’re looking to cause any trouble. Right?”

“I’m kind of in some trouble of my own, if you haven’t noticed,” you point out.

“Fair enough. Then, I’ll do you a favour. If you’d be reasonable enough to not do something as stupid as try to murder me in my sleep, I’ll invite you into my home.”

Try? I could barely run away from you.

“I’ll have to attend to some business in the morning outside the country, but, if you’re a good girl tonight, you’re welcome to stay there while I’m gone.” Your lips part to speak at the woman’s condescension, but by the absurdity of your situation, you find yourself unable to spit the words dancing behind your teeth back at her. Good girl?

“Do you need a physical invitation?” Quanxi says; you hadn’t realized she’d already begun to walk, and soundlessly trails after her. “Good.” Again? “I’ve parked several blocks north of here; it’s about a five minute walk if you’re fast about it.”

“Okay.” True to her estimation, once they’d picked up their pace, they found a sleek black automobile awaiting them only four blocks away. Compared to the older modeled cars you’ve passed, this one is at least twenty years ahead of their design.

Quanxi enters on her side before you can even open the passenger side door, and by the time you sit and shut the door behind you, the car has already belted to life, a soft rumbling heard from within its metal shell. A gear shifts, and they move.

The drive out of the dark neighbourhood where you first appeared, and into the glowing city you’d seen from afar is about three times as long as the walk had been. The luminance of the artificial light happens to be intense enough to make you squint so hard that your eyes become slits.

“Depending on how long you’re here for, you might end up getting used to it,” Quanxi says. You turn your head toward her. “Ah, well, I shouldn’t assume you don’t have these in your own home; apologies. Just, don’t stare at these ones directly. They’re definitely not up to code.”

You nod, glancing forward again.

“You aren’t very… chatty, are you,” Quanxi speculates, lowering one of her hands from the wheel to rest in her own lap.

“It’s… hard to think of something to talk about in my situation,” you say, wringing your wrists a little. “Small talk and idle conversations… is even harder.”

“You could always ask more questions.”

“I… can’t think of any.”

“Or ask if I know of a way to return you to your home.”

“And do you?”

“No. I can do a lot, but time travel?” Quanxi scoffs lightly. “Science fiction, for now. Maybe there’s a Devil out there that can do that. But, you could still have bothered to begin that conversation to see if I did.”

You pause. “Is this all a condition of me staying with you? Talking, asking questions…”

“Not at all. Simply makes for better company.”

You scoff, too, and fold your arms over your chest. “Aren’t you worried I’ll destroy your home while you’re gone? Or rob you?”

Quanxi chuckles. “Not at all. You might be lonely when I do, however. By how you greeted me earlier tonight, I should at least make sure my housekeeper doesn’t spook you away into, I don’t know, jumping out the window.”

“If I didn’t value my life, I wouldn’t have run away from you like I did. Why would I jump out the window…” The question hangs in the air, apparently a rhetorical quip.

The rest of the drive is completed in one-sided silence, Quanxi filling it with her own voice when she explains, unwarranted, the existence of Devils and what she’d meant when she’d asked you about a “contract”. It does make sense (and perhaps your interest in the subject did prove that you did have some curiosities), but you still had found yourself verily unwilling to engage in conversation, leaving your thoughts to race wildly beneath your skull.

In contrast to the surrounding buildings, Quanxi’s is not nearly as vibrant. The only lights come from the large fixed windows pressed tight between the dark brickwork; signs of life that neighbourhood from before had sorely been missing. Even the streets, despite the time, are flooded with chattering humans.

“We’re here, get out,” Quanxi says, putting the car into park and exiting it, herself. You join her on the sidewalk, where she’d just given a man a set of keys. In the corner of her vision, you watch him replace where Quanxi once sat, and drive off with her car, while the two of you enter the building.

“I’m on the penthouse level,” she tells you after pressing a button on the wall of the elevator. “It’s nothing fancy. Comfortable enough when I come home from an assignment, and for my—” Quanxi goes silent. You notice, but don’t press. The elevator chimes, announcing their arrival to the topmost level, and the doors open. “This way.”

There’s a keypad on the door, for which Quanxi types a particularly long code into before it beeps at them to enter. Whereas you take off your own boots and set them aside, Quanxi toes hers off and kicks them to the side, knocking yours over.

“A drink?” Quanxi offers.

“… water is fine.”

The penthouse is minimalist and simple, as its owner mentioned it would be. A simple living area full of couches and irregularly shaped chairs; a simple bedroom, raised up, across the room in a loft space. The bathroom and kitchen end up being the fanciest of the space, full of shining metal appliances and smooth surfaces, as white as the moon, itself.

There are but a few adornments and decorations, and you find that across the apartment, there are only a handful of photographs framed and sitting atop a long cabinet, two of which had been turned down— you recall Quanxi doing so as she’d entered ahead of you. Not one to pry — you know just as well as anyone what dredging up old memories does to a person — and with Quanxi busying herself in her kitchen, you cross over to them and quickly tip them up. Both have the woman pressed between four other girls, all with varyingly unexplainable appearances — why are her brains exposed? — but they all easily express their fondness for Quanxi.

“It’s like you’ve never been invited into someone’s home before,” Quanxi suddenly calls from around the corner. You flinch, and without making eye contact, set the frames back down with care. “It should go without me having to say the words “don’t touch anything unnecessary”.”

“Sorry,” you say.

Quanxi sighs, and extends her arm to hand the stranger a glass of clear liquid. “It’s fine. Just don’t touch them again. And try not to get curious enough that you want to ask about… them.”

You accept the glass, nodding, and take a generous gulp from it, immediately reeling.

“This isn’t water,” you say, swallowing thickly, your throat catching from the burn.

“It’s baijiu. Figured you could probably use some to relax while you’re here.” You instantly cough.

“Relax?”

“It’s not like you’ll be able to figure anything out tonight, not this late. And, not if you’re still wired into fight or flight mode. Drink this. If you’re hungry, there’s food in the fridge you can help yourself to. The bathroom is around the corner. Go and shower. I’ll grab you a change of clothing.”

Not that it’d been so severely important to, but you silently admit to her observations. Being sent stuck here and almost immediately thrust into one-sided combat against this strange woman, to being invited to her home for reprieve, has kept you tiptoeing on a jagged edge, teetering more to one side than the other. It’s discomforting. Unfamiliar.

You down the clear liquid in the glass before stalking into Quanxi’s bathroom, quick to strip yourself of your clothing before stepping into the shower. Beginning to scrub away the day’s grime from your body with a sudsy cloth, you realize you’ve yet to feel this calm thus far— must be the baijiu, you assume.

With the glass of the shower all fogged up from the steam, you don’t notice Quanxi standing in the doorway when you finally exit it. Unfocused, you jump, the towel in your hand almost slipping out of your grasp.

“I’m beginning to think,” you start, huffing out a flustered breath, “that you’re the lonely one between us.”

“Perhaps I am.” The ice in her own glass clinks against it when she takes a sip, watching you start to pat yourself dry. “I won’t argue with you. I never thought I would feel like this, even after losing them. They were only Fiends, after all. Not entirely human.”

“... does one have to be “entirely human” for someone to love them?”

“… I forgot who I was saying this to,” Quanxi muses, mostly to herself. “You’re young, after all. Insightfulness comes easier to each new generation of life.”

“Something like that,” you halfheartedly confirm, dragging the towel down each of your legs. You sigh— avoiding certain conversations may not be as easy as you’d once thought with this woman, the involvement of alcohol perhaps making it even more of a difficult probability. “Where I’m from… in my time… in my version of Earth, we don’t have different species of humans. But to be loved by anyone, by anything, even by someone non-human, is a joy, and an honour. Don’t justify them being Fiends so you don’t have to grieve over them. And… just be glad you can remember everything about them.”

She smiles back, but it’s distant; spurious. You know full well what the look is for, and decide it’s unfair to call the woman the only lonely one between them, after all.

Quanxi pushes herself off the door’s frame, stumbling very slightly out of her awkward stance.

“I was only in here for ten minutes. How did you manage to get drunk so quickly?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk,” Quanxi swears. “This is my first glass… and I’m a bit of a heavyweight. I just figure I should share some of my vulnerability with you since you’re naked in my home right now. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

You look up at her, having wrapped your head in the towel, and around the washroom.

“Your clothes. Right. I forgot to bring them in. They’re out here.”

“Could you go and grab them?”

“You’re coming back out here anyway, right? Just come and change out here.”

Your eyes narrow. The woman’s already seen her as nude as the day she’d been born, and from her own words, she now lives alone, the existence of those four girls in the photos seemingly otherwise erased from the apartment save for those photos. Being on the penthouse level on one of the tallest buildings around, it’d be unlikely for any of the neighbouring buildings to see—

“You’re overthinking it,” Quanxi calls out. “Is that something you do when you drink alcohol?”

Your attempt at sliding past her in the doorway fails, the taller of the two having lifted her arm to stop you.

“Is it?”

You sigh. Quanxi’s lip lifts into a small smile, and she drops her arm to let you pass and enter the kitchen.

“Is this where you assert yourself on me, and I lower myself into showing you my “gratitude”?” You slip on the folded burgundy tee from the counter, mentally cursing at the woman for supplying you with such a useless piece of fabric, the offending material barely reaching your navel; you shiver. “I’ve read enough fiction in my lifetime to recognize this cliché.”

“Then you must’ve read a crazy amount of sapphic erotica throughout your journey across the stars.” You shake your head and reach for the pants, ignoring Quanxi’s presence at your side. “No,” she answers, “though, I’m glad my intentions go without me having to say anything. A harmless, wordless invitation to share in a little bit of skinship with me. I won’t force you into it, but…”

In still being bare from the hips down, Quanxi dares to smooth a hand across your waist that curls an arm around your middle, and you freeze, your cool skin quick to grow warm under her touch.

“Quanxi—””It’s not lowering yourself to enjoy yourself,” she muses, right next to your ear. You blame your immodesty for the chill that sweeps down your spine. “Let me take your mind out of the stars for the night.”

It’s the alcohol. You’re drunk, too. That’s the only reason. Trying to rationalize your acceptance of the situation with false realities only embarrasses you further— you aren’t drunk. You can’t even call yourself slightly inebriated, not yet.

Then perhaps it’s your subconscious telling you to cave to Quanxi’s suggestion. To give into the strange offer of reprieve this Earth finds itself willing to give to you.

Her hands travel, soft and featherlight, across your now scalding flesh, and beneath the waistband of the sweats she’d intended on giving you. Loosening them from around your hips, she pushes them down until they slip around your ankles, and with a hand poised at the toned sculpt of her abdomen, she presses you into leaning against the counter behind you.

“Just stand there and stay pretty for me.”

Quanxi doesn’t waste another moment; not particularly keen to stop her, you lean into the hand that cups your jaw, allows her to fit her lips between yours, tries to remember the last time you’d ever kissed or had ever been kissed, and fails. With no other thoughts to keep you tethered to creating distractions for yourself, you keen forward and shift your weight onto a single foot. A small laugh huffs against your lips.

“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you,” she murmurs. You’re about to argue the opposite, that you’d only been acting agreeable for their best interest, and open your mouth; ever the opportunist, Quanxi is quick to curl her tongue to sweep along the inside of your lips before you get the chance to utter a single word. You flinch, but your own hand stays holding Quanxi’s hips against your own.

Her thighs are thick, discovering them to be more muscular than you’d first presumed when one of them press between your own and shift upward. You gasp, a soft sound, when the coarse material of Quanxi’s denim begins sliding back and forth along your bare clit; you tremble, and grips her sides just a little firmer.

“Ah, see? You don’t have to use your words to show it.”

A hand slips around to hold your neck, Quanxi pulling her mouth hard against yours, and you moan, your breaths shared with each tilt of their head and each swirl of their tongues around the other dense, purposeful. Was it the alcohol making your mind fuzzier? Making your judgment clouded? You hadn’t yearned for something this hard in much too long a time, though it did go without saying— yes, I’m enjoying myself.

You shiver at the sudden soft pecks and harsher licks at the curve of your neck, and Quanxi grinds your crotch against her bouncing thigh a little more insistently when you’d begun to shudder.

“You’re close, right? So soon?” Reluctantly, you find yourself nodding. Quanxi hums. “Not here.” She lowers her knee almost too abruptly, and releases. Your head snaps her way, frowning.

“This isn’t how I want you to come,” she explains, decidedly tugging down her own pants and kicking them away. “Too simple.”

“Why did you stop?”

“It’s only for a moment,” Quanxi assures you. She takes one of your hands and begins pulling you toward the staircase to the loft, quick to guide you along to sitting at the edge of her plush bedding. “Don’t look so frustrated, hm?”

You scoff, but it’s choked, heart still racing from your formerly impending, now lost, orgasm.

“More condescending words of yours,” you mutter, “just like earlier.”

“Condescending words from earlier…” Quanxi pauses. “Do you mean when I called you a “good girl”?”

“Yes. It was patronizing.”

“And… if I were to call you a good girl now?” Quanxi releases her hold around your wrist and, before you can pull them back (whether you were going to or not), fits her fingers through both of yours and kneels between your legs, spreading them further apart with her shoulders. Your entire body flinches, and your arms both jerk upwards with nowhere to go. “Is that still me being condescending? Or…” Quanxi tilts her head forward once more, and licks a stripe upward against your quiver. “… maybe it’s patronizing now?”

“Y-You’ve… well surpassed the definition of both of those words,” you groan.

“Maybe.” Quanxi’s tongue curls, catching on the hood of your clit. You gasp. “But look at you, my little time-traveling friend, behaving so well for me. I think this deserves a little bit of praise; a small reward.”

“Stop talking about it and give it to me, then.”

Quanxi doesn’t speak again, having suddenly busied herself with the wet kisses she supplied to your cunt. Your eyes fly upward to meet hers, tongue flicking so frustratingly calculated between your folds. You stir, arms twitching impatiently in her hold with nowhere to go— until she releases them again. Unable to help herself, you lurch forward, one hand pressing the woman between your thighs deeper into you, the other clawing at the sheets beneath you. When Quanxi goes to mumble something, not bothering to remove her tongue from against you, you send a hazy glare her way.

“Don’t talk, j-just—!” Quanxi’s grip shifts, instead to wind her arms around your thighs when your squirming becomes too uncontrolled. You cry out, a sharp noise that ends up startling you back into biting down on your own lip, as Quanxi suckles on your swollen bud. It’s impossible to stop her, to want to stop her; your hold on her head lessens, though it’s only when your legs begin to tremble in their attempt to fold shut, and when your voice catches in her throat that Quanxi finally pulls away, lips and chin glistening under the moonlight and hair slightly disheveled, and you groan again, a noise that grows progressively louder and more frustrated as the blonde rises back onto her feet.

“I never specified if you’d be the only one getting rewarded,” Quanxi points out, chuckling. “Keep your legs open.”

You manage a frown, but still hold your thighs apart for Quanxi to straddle you. Your hips buck, feeling the sudden pressure, the sudden heat and slick press against her; Quanxi doesn’t waste another moment, having been denying even herself the pleasure she’d now twice ripped away from you— punishment for the frustratingly short answers you’d provided throughout the evening.

Hands falling next to your head to grip the blanket, she rocks forward, lower back instinctively arching upon the friction finally reaching her— Quanxi moans, and you, impatient and shuddering once more, reach behind Quanxi to grab at her ass to pull her tighter into you.

“So eager,” Quanxi groans. Jerkily, she forces your shirt up over your breasts, nipples pert from your arousal, and dips her head down to wrap her lips around one, tongue swirling.

“Quanxi, I—” she pops away, gasping, hips still gyrating and pelvis grinding into yours with such a desperate fervour; she suddenly swivels herself and takes hold of your leg from under her knee, bringing it upwards. “Quanxi—”

“Go on, then,” Quanxi pants. Both mouths dripping, she takes her tongue and drags it up your calf. “Come for me, my little time-traveler.”

You choke on your breath, and your hands seize for Quanxi to hold her in position while you suddenly flip her around, grinding down on her, instead. Teeth gritted, Quanxi pulls and tugs at the sheets, moaning with the sweet relief of her own orgasm, and you tremble, crying out soft and low from the washing over of — finally, finally — your own pleasure.

Spent, you huff at the one-eyed woman when you lower herself down fully onto her pelvis. “Don’t… call me that ever again.”

Quanxi’s laugh is one of disbelief, and has you reddening above her.

“I was supposed to have an early night… I can always sleep on the plane.”

#quanxi x reader #afab reader #quanxi x y/n #csm x reader #quanxi smut #csm smut #csm quanxi #wlw #quanxi wlw

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