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despicablebisexual · 13 days

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Depravity, part I (18+)

Hol Horse x f!reader, modern! AU, detective noir, no stands

masterlist

Hol Horse is drawn back to a city he tried so hard to let go of. You face the man you hate the most.

content warnings: murder, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, cursing

[Universe #139] Location: [REDACTED] Year: 20XX

Hol Horse stepped out of his car and onto the rain soaked pavement. His hand lingering on the top of the door as he looked up at the dark sky to find the small relief that it had stopped raining. The gloomy city he begrudgingly called home had finally been freed from the torrential downpour that lasted for the past few hours, but with the clearing of the sky came the full force of the sinister underbelly once again active.

“Hey, Horse! Over here,” a voice called. Looking away from the sky, Hol Horse cursed to himself as he saw Mista waving him over, and his hand itched to grab at the cigarette pack in the inner pocket of his coat. He was trying to quit, but each day was a new test of his personal conviction.

Regardless of his dislike for the detective he routinely worked with, he made his way over. His mood was further soured as Hol Horse caught sight of Mista’s partner, one he also had an intolerance for; Leone Abbacchio.

There’s nothing wrong per se with either of his coworkers, but Hol Horse strongly preferred when he’s assigned cases where the two Italian dickheads, as he likes to call them, aren’t joining him. Mista is too energetic and jumps the gun quite literally whenever they work together, and Abbacchio walks around with what Hol is convinced is probably the world’s biggest stick up his ass. They’re unnervingly smart and work well together, but something about them just rubs Hol the wrong way. He also doesn’t appreciate how Mista insists on calling him by his surname, thinking it’s entirely too funny that it matches his “cowboy aesthetic” as Mista determined.

“Hey,” Hol Horse said gruffly, making his way toward the pair, ducking under caution tape. “What do we got?”

“Twenty-one year old female. Dead for barely an hour. No ID or personal effects on her either,” Abbacchio replied with a cold voice, hardened by years on the job.

Hol Horse peered around the crime scene investigators as they inspected the body of the woman and surrounding area. Behind him, Mista, and Abbacchio, a group of civilians had gathered to watch, morbidly intrigued by the commotion.

Hol Horse sighed in frustration. These dump and dash murders were getting out of hand and although the city claimed to have been “cracking down” on 24 hour surveillance and police presence, the crime rate seemed to only be getting worse. Too many years on the job had taken any faith Hol Horse had in the criminal justice system and warped his days into never ending spirals of frustration.

“The sick fuck cut off her right hand,” Mista said, angered by the unknown perpetrator’s disgusting actions.

His comment caught Hol Horse off guard, whose breath caught when he heard him.

“Her right hand?”

“Took it with him, most likely,” Mista nodded, face visibly displeased. “Shot her in the knee too, but we might have caught him on video.”

Hol Horse breathed a very, very small sigh of relief. There’s no way it was him again. That case was over two years ago, and was considered cold. He hadn’t been active in two years, plus, he was always careful to cover his tracks. If it was the same guy, he would have never been caught by a camera in an alleyway.

“Who found her?”

Mista nodded his head toward a woman near the ambulance, currently being sat down and evaluated for injuries. “Shopkeeper on the corner. Said she saw someone run off not long before she found the body behind the dumpster. The cameras around her shop are pointed toward the alleyway, and we’re getting an order to seize the footage.”

Some time passed between the three detectives as they silently stared at the bustling crime scene around them. A few foot officers were yelling at the growing crowd to disperse so the investigators could properly find and label any pieces of evidence.

“Where’s J. Geil? You never fly solo,” Abbacchio commented with a judgemental tone, lighting up a cigarette as if they were anywhere except a crime scene.

Hol’s fists clenched in his pockets but he let the comment pass. It was true, he didn’t work alone often.

“Got shot in the arm last week. He hasn’t been cleared to get back out in the field, yet.”

Both Mista and Abbacchio nodded their heads in understanding. Between them, they were happy that J. Geil wasn’t there, despite having to deal with a grumpy Hol Horse. Whenever those two were together, they were an unfortunate mix of showboating and overconfidence, despite working in one of the worst parts of the city.

“I’m interviewing the chick,” Hol Horse said suddenly, not giving the other two a moment to process as he already walked away from them and toward the ambulance. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair tucked into a low bun, was still speaking to the EMTs, a blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders.

“Good evening ma’am,” Hol Horse said with a tired voice, not bothering to look up as he took out his notepad and flipped to a blank page. “What can you tell me–” he looked up and froze. The woman was beautiful, green eyes shining with the reflection of the police lights around them. She seemed lively despite the rather upsetting situation she was in, and Hol Horse couldn’t help but chuckle.

“How did a pretty lady like you get caught up in something like this, Ms..?” he asked, making a show of his southern drawl that he was told added a certain finesse to his Japanese.

She smiled and turned away. “Call me Holly, and I was doing some inventory in my shop after hours since my husband couldn’t get to it this morning.”

He let out an airy chuckle. “That’s a beautiful name you got there Ms. Holly. Listen, I’m sure you already know this, but you shouldn’t stay out late in this part of the city.”

She nodded and tucked some loose hair behind her ear.

“Now, what can you tell me about what you saw?”

She deeply exhaled for a moment before starting. “Well, like I said, I was in the shop doing some inventory. It’s a music shop and we sell a lot of vintage stuff. Vinyl records, 8track, cassettes, all that sorts of stuff, so we always do inventory to make sure nothing’s out of place.”

Hol Horse nodded and wrote a few details down.

“I heard a yelp and a banging outside, followed by a gunshot. I rushed to the door immediately to make sure it was locked, but I saw someone rush by the window.”

“Just one gunshot?”

She nodded her head. “Just one.”

He shook his head but wrote it down. If he had to guess, the shot to the knee wasn’t what killed her, at least not immediately, judging by the streaks of blood on the ground from when she presumably crawled. The woman continued speaking before casually dropping a fact that made Hol Horse snap his head up.

“Wait, you knew her?” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the body.

“I’ve seen her around before.” Holly suddenly got quiet and looked around before leaning in closer toward Hol Horse. “I think she might have been caught up with the wrong crowd.”

Hol Horse huffed. Yeah, no shit.

“And you mean?”

“Well,” Holly wrung her hands as she spoke, “I’ve seen her around here before. I noticed she looked hungry once so I gave her a dinner I packed for my husband one time.”

Hol Horse raised his eyebrow toward her.

“Okay… I gave her dinner several times, and we talked. She told me once her name was Roxanne –I think that was fake, though– and she claimed she was from Hell City.”

A shiver ran through Hol Horse’s body at the mention of Hell City, a place notorious for its nightlife and tech scene. In reality it was named Genesis, but was given the moniker for how hellish the tourists who visited there acted. Once upon a time, he was intimately familiar with that place, but hadn’t stepped foot in that town in over two years.

“Hell City, you’re sure?”

She nodded in confirmation. “Yes.”

He grimaced but wrote down the information, making a mental note to grab a picture of the girl’s face before he drove the hour it took to get there.

“Holly!” “Mom!” two voices suddenly yelled. Hol Horse and Holly both looked up to see two tall Japanese men yelling and pushing their way past the crowds to get to them. The younger one, the taller of the pair, looked especially distressed as he bullied his way through the police barricades.

“You know them?”

“That’s my husband and son.”

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

Genesis Hell City. The city that prided itself on its bustling tech industry and sightseeing. What had once started as a coastal city that had pristine beaches, eventually grew to be the home of some of the world’s finest technology developers. As the tech scene rose, so did the portion of the population who chased after it. A long, long time ago, Hol Horse had been a uniformed officer here who prowled the streets while working his mandatory night watch shifts. He’d been placed there after graduating from the academy and spent the better part of four years of his life working these streets.

Life was okay then. For the first two years, he had a partner that was pretty good and did most of the paperwork between them. Hol Horse coasted on his success until said partner was promoted to detective and moved to narcotics across the city. Hol Horse then went on to have a series of partners who he’d long forgotten their names. He enjoyed the lifestyle of Hell City as much as a police officer could, entertaining the men and women he met around there during his free time before being promoted to detective himself.

You see, up until that point, Hol Horse would characterize himself as someone who got by in life by knowing who to hang around. If you find the right person, you’ll get carried to success with little struggle, that was his life motto. If there was one thing Hol Horse was good at, it was finding that person. There was his first partner; a girlfriend he lived with for about six months who had a lot of inheritance to spend; a young man who recently moved to the city and looking for a ‘guide,’ you get the jist. Wherever there was someone in need of a right-hand man, perhaps even a devil on their shoulder, Hol Horse was there.

Although he had a great setup going, the demands of his job and the city had sucked the life out of him until one case in particular was enough for him to send in a request for a new location. Back once again, driving through the streets of Hell City made Hol Horse’s stomach churn, as they reminded him of a bad time in his life when he cared too much about his job. While the city was only an hour away from where he lived now, he had made a point of never coming here again. Of course, fate would make sure he failed that goal. Why was he here? Because old ghosts needed to be put to rest, despite Hol Horse vehemently spending the last two years running from them.

Being away from here for the past two years, Hol Horse wasn’t entirely familiar with the subtle changes made to the city, but he still managed to find the oh-so familiar bar he was looking for. When he pulled into the parking lot of Stardust Saloon, Hol Horse turned off the engine of his car and sat in silence for a moment. He cursed himself for so eagerly going to talk to Holly Kujo, as Mista and Abbacchio told him he might as well head to Hell City since he was “already ahead of them” in terms of the case. It had been two weeks since they found Roxanne’s body, and the further Hol Horse investigated, the more each sign pointed towards a serial killer Hol Horse had lost track of back during his days in Genesis when he was freshly promoted to detective. The Genesis police department was no help, claiming that even though it pointed to one of their old suspects, the case was in Hol Horse’s hands since it occurred in his city.

All Hol wanted to do was turn the car back on and hightail it out of there, maybe go and stop at one of his flings’ apartment instead of returning to his own. Midler was back in town after going on vacation, she might be up for a little fun.

As much as his plan tempted him, the picture in his coat pocket of Roxanne weighed him down. Deep down, part of Hol Horse did still care about his job and wanted to get the girl some sort of justice, but he didn’t have high hopes. Things like justice don’t happen in either of these cities.

With a sigh, Hol Horse got out of his car and slammed the door shut. Before he went anywhere, however, he reached into his coat for a cigarette and his lighter. He’d gone the past two days without a smoke, he reasoned he could have one now. As he lit up the stick and tucked his lighter away, his boot clad feet dragged him toward the glass door of the bar as he contemplated his last few moments alive, because surely, once he opened that door and walked inside, he’d be as good as dead. Afterall, that’s always what you promised he would be if you ever saw him again.

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

“There you go,” you said as you sat the three mugs of beer on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be behind the bar, so just flag me down.”

The group of salarymen thanked you and politely dismissed you. With a heavy sigh, you turned around and walked back to the bar. For a Thursday night, Stardust was surprisingly busy.

Stardust Saloon was your pride and joy. When you were twenty, after moving out of your family’s home when you had a falling out with your mother, you had landed on the doorstep of Daniel J. D’Arby. He’d found you tucked away in the booths of Stardust, half-drunk and half-depressed as you failed to keep a steady job after having lived in Hell City with your little sister for seven months by that time. The city had been swallowing you whole, and you could see why it was nicknamed what it was.

Daniel first approached you with his brother at his side, ready to throw you out and call the police for not paying your tabs, but they halted when they saw the mess of a person you were. Telence, the younger of the two, got Daniel to calm down just enough to listen to your sob story, and when you were finished, he immediately offered to let you pay off your debt by working for them. With no other option, you took their offer and started.

That was over eight years ago. Since then, you've managed to work your way up and get promoted to manager. Daniel and Telence trusted you enough to run the place for them, so much so to the point where they only stopped into the bar about twice a week when they came to collect their cash. Honestly, the whole thing was a win-win situation. Their bar was being run for them and you had enough money to find a decent apartment and not have to hustle for money.

Tonight was a night like any other, complete with you coming out of the office for the evening to help on the floor. Tonight’s staff included several of your good friends and best workers. Behind the bar was Polnareff, an eccentric French guy that was a great barkeep. He could get anyone to buy any drink, and he earned the bar a huge amount of sales. When Polnareff wasn’t working, he was flirting with Avdol, one of the cooks in the back. The two had been dancing around admitting their feelings for each other for several months at this point, which frustrated everyone on staff as Polnareff made it everyone’s problem when he was feeling discouraged about the situation. On the floor with you was Bruno, a kind-hearted man that kept the regulars returning for his great service, and Ermes, your fiery waitress who had a knack for somehow getting the most tips every night. How she did it when all she did was yell at her tables, you’ll never know, but you reasoned it was fine. She always ended up splitting some of them with Weather Report, the resident bouncer of Stardust Saloon, at the end of the night, so you assumed they had some sort of deal going on there. Whatever it was, you turned a blind eye to it.

“Y/n,” Polnareff exaggerated, putting his hands on your shoulders as you returned back to the bar. “Can we close up shop yet? I’m tired,” he cried.

You laughed and shrugged his hands off. “Tired my ass. You were just in the kitchen nearly bouncing off the walls as you talked to Avdol. What happened?” He scoffed. “I was not talking to Avdol! He’s in there training the new kid.”

“Narancia isn’t a kid, he’s nineteen.”

“I’m twenty-five! That’s a kid to me!”

You laughed to yourself and pushed past him and toward the sink to wash your hands. Polnareff got back to wiping off the glassware he had been towel drying previously. As you finished drying your hands, you leaned your back against the bar and looked at him. Behind you both, the door chime rang indicating someone stepped into the busy bar.

“We’re only a couple hours into the shift. Why are you so tired?”

“I didn’t sleep well,” he huffed. “Can’t we close early just this once?”

“Jean, it’s only,” you paused to look at the clock on the wall, “10:30pm. We can’t close.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You would let us close early if–”

Polnareff paused, staring at something in the corner of your eye in surprise.

“If what?”

“Can I help you?” Polnareff suddenly seethed, causing you to turn around in shock at whoever he was speaking to.

Whoever you had been expecting to be on the other side of the bar, was nowhere near close to who actually was. A fury suddenly ignited inside you, causing your brow to pinch as you glared at the man on the other side of the counter. Standing there in all his stupid, cowboy-aesthetic glory, was none other than Hol Horse. A man who had run from your life over two years ago.

His hand reached up to take off his signature hat as he exhaled a puff of smoke, his blonde tresses fell around his face in loose waves. “I was hopin’ I could talk to your boss lady here,” he said, nodding his head toward you.

“Je t’emmerde!” Go fuck yourself! “We should have you thrown out of here,” Polnareff yelled.

“Come on now, Polnareff, no need to get so worked up. I got business with y/n, nothin’ more.”

“We’ve got no business,” you scoffed. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it,” you spit, turning away from him. “Get out of my bar before I have security throw you out. Shouldn’t you be in your new city now with your new life?”

“Y/n–”

“Leave! I’m serious!”

You started to walk away, hoping to make it to the kitchen for escape, but he called your name gruffly and slammed something down on the counter.

“A girl wound up dead in an alleyway two weeks ago and she was missin’ her hand. She was from here.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Memories from three years ago when you first met Hol Horse started washing over you, a familiar ache working its way back into your heart.

“I need to speak with you. Please. I want to help this girl.”

Hol Horse held his breath as he watched your back. There was a tension in your shoulders that he could visibly see, and if wasn’t so sure that you would slap his hand away, he would have reached out to massage the stress away like he used to.

“I thought you gave up that life. I thought you don’t help people anymore,” you said bitterly.

He sighed and took the cigarette from his mouth, putting it out in the ashtray on the counter. “Call it a change of heart.”

He watched your shoulders rise as you took a deep breath in. Turning to Polnareff, you pointed to the floor.

“Make sure Ermes doesn’t burn this place down. We’ll be out back.”

Polnareff was visibly shocked as you so easily gave in to Hol Horse’s request. He had been there two years ago when the two of you had your terrible break up after Hol Horse informed you he put in for a transfer and claimed he “wasn’t the type to do long-distance.” He had rushed to your apartment that night to keep you from killing Hol Horse as you threw various objects from around your shared apartment at him. And he had been there for the following two years of pain as you struggled to get over being so suddenly abandoned.

“Come on, I don’t have all night,” you said to Hol Horse, gesturing for him to come around the bar and follow you through the kitchen. With one final nod of courtesy to Polnareff, Hol Horse gathered the crime scene photos and walked to catch up to you.

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

The outside air was cool compared to the heat of the kitchen and you would have found relief in the temperature change, had Hol Horse not been there with you. As soon as the two of you stepped outside, you turned to him and held out your hand.

“What?”

“I know you’ve got cigarettes on you. Gimme one.”

With a sigh, he reached into his coat and pulled out two sticks, one for each of you, before flicking open his lighter. Both of you leaned in together to breathe in so the flame caught hold, and memories of doing so post-intercourse flashed in Hol Horse’s mind.

You exhaled your initial puff before taking one more. Hol Horse swallowed hard as he watched the smoke curl past your lips and into the night air. You were so damn beautiful, especially since it had been two years since he saw you, and he struggled to think as he watched you.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Are you gonna get on with the pictures?” you asked with a roll of your eyes.

“Oh,” he realized, taking the photos and shuffling them around a bit. He took the one of Roxanne laying on the morgue table, blood and dirt brushed off her face, and gave it to you. You held the picture for several moments as you sucked on the cigarette.

“Never seen her before.”

“A witness who had seen her before explained that she claimed her name was Roxanne and she was from this area. When we found her, her right hand was missing.”

You were quiet as you studied the photo. Hol Horse grimaced as he could feel the tension rising in the air, and he leaned against the wall so he wouldn’t have to directly face you.

“Our working theory is that it’s him again…” Hol Horse whispered.

You remained silent, continuing to flip through the pictures.

“He fucked up this time, y/n. We’ve got a lead. There’s camera footage this time.”

He watched you with bated breath as you studied the photos. The scene was oh-so familiar, almost exactly like that of the one where they found your sister’s body three years ago. Your hands shook violently as you were stuck on one particularly morbid picture; a close up of her severed wrist. Your grip was so tight on the photo that it creased the edges and caused you to drop your cigarette.

“You shouldn’t have come back here,” you advised him, shoving the photo back into his chest and stomping out the cigarette on the ground. When you turned to go back through the door, Hol Horse’s hand raised over your head and shut it back in place.

“Hey,” he said, firmly pushing on it so you couldn’t get through.

“Let go, Hol Horse! I’m done with this conversation!”

“Y/n.” He placed his other hand on your back, his touch burning you through your shirt. “I’m going to the station tomorrow and requesting all the files be brought from storage. I’m opening your sister’s case back up.”

“I can’t do this again,” you shook, tears falling from your eyes. “I can’t let you get my hopes up that you’ll find who killed her.”

Hol Horse was unsure of what to do. He’d seen you cry plenty of times, hell, this moment wasn’t that different than when you first met, but now, he wasn’t sure what to do. He knew if he tried to comfort you like he did back then, he’d get a swift slap to the face.

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

Three years ago

When a blonde haired man dressed in a dress shirt and suit pants knocked on the door of your apartment, you were utterly confused. Despite being in a loose band t-shirt and biker shorts, you answered the door anyway.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you Ms. y/n l/n, ma’am? My name is Hol Horse and I’m with the Genesis Police Department,” he flipped open his wallet to show his badge quickly before stuffing it back in his wallet.

You scoffed. “You don’t need to be so formal, y/n is fine. What’s this all about?” you asked, crossing your arms to lean against the doorframe. There had been a robbery at the gas station a block away from here, but that had already been a week ago.

He nodded and stood a little straighter, pulling off his strange cowboy hat to look at you. “I’m very sorry to inform you Miss, but your sister Diana has passed.”

Your stomach dropped as your eyes widened in shock, not quite sure of what exactly he just said. “W-what?”

“We found your sister’s body on the bank of the river early this morning.”

Everything else he said was muffled by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Diana was dead. Your little sister was dead and you had just seen her the day before.

He might have been a stranger, but he was the only thing you had to support you. So, you fell into his arms as you sobbed. Hol Horse was taken by surprise, but eventually wrapped his arms around your shoulders. This wasn’t his first death notification, nor would it be his last, but something seeing the spirit break in your eyes made his own heart clench.

“I’ll be working as the lead detective on your sister’s case…” You raised your head to look up at him, and saw the dark determination in his eyes.

“I promise you, I’ll bring your sister justice.”

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

“Listen, I know I made mistakes back then,” Hol Horse whispered, taking his hand from your back to turn you by the shoulder. “I promised some things I shouldn’t have and I let myself get too close to you. I fucked up, I know.”

Bravely, he let his hand come up to cup your cheek. He was surprised that you didn’t immediately remove it, so he took it as his sign to continue. His thumb swept over your cheekbone to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen.

“My mama raised me to be a church-going boy, and you of all people should know I didn’t turn out to be one of them.” He half-heartedly smiled and looked deep into your eyes. “But I know I got some sins to atone for, and I got some forgiveness to earn. I’d like to do both of those things by finally closing your sister’s case.”

“Holden Horse you’ve got some balls for coming back here,” you whispered to him, tears still flowing. “I’ll be damned if I let you screw me over again.”

Hol Horse prepared himself for you to berate him, so he removed his hand from your face. Just as it lifted off, your hand came up and snatched his wrist, pulling his hand to you.

“You better be right about being able to find this guy.”

#hol horse #hol horse x reader #depravity series

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despicablebisexual · 13 days

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Depravity (18+)

Hol Horse x f!reader, modern! AU, detective noir, no stands

A new murder investigation lands in Hol Horse's lap and brings him back to the very city he ran from two years ago after he failed the one promise he made you. As he attempts to lay ghosts to rest and fix his mistakes by catching the unknown serial killer, he realizes how utterly in love with you he still is.

series content warnings: angst and tragedy, alcohol consumption, tobacco usage, graphic depictions of violence, murder mystery (honestly its not the main focus of the story), toxic relationship, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex, makeup sex, pet names (darling, sweetheart, beautiful), unsafe sex, spanking, praise, teasing

Part I

Hol Horse is drawn back to a city he tried so hard to let go of.

Part II

coming soon...

Part III

#hol horse #hol horse x reader #hol horse smut #jojos bizarre adventure #depravity series

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despicablebisexual · 21 days

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Hair LookBook 11

hiiii guys, so happy to be posting again ♡ a week ago or so i accidentally deleted my whole mods folder which was a huge blow to me. but I've been slowly building it back up & plan to keep sharing my cc finds as they come (:

down below are links to 15 beautiful short/med hairstyles! - all maxis match

♢| 1 2 3 |♢ ♢| 4 5 6 |♢ ♢| 7 8 9 |♢ ♢| 10 11 12 |♢ ♢| 13 14 15 |♢

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despicablebisexual · 1 month

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things to think about for characters

do they have allergies?

what foods will they not touch?

what kinds of music do they like?

how are they around new people?

do they speak in an accent?

have they tried learning a new language?

how many languages do they know?

what is a song that will always make them cry?

how do they cry? heaving? silently? sobbing?

how do they dress? for practicality or fashion?

what is the first thing they notice about a stranger?

what is their humour like?

do they have scars? what caused them?

do they wear jewelry?

are they a frivolous spender or a miser?

do they prefer luxury or practicality?

who would they quote?

what could make them change their mind?

who is the first person they'd call?

how are they around animals? do they have pets?

what is their favourite childhood food?

what is something they've never told anyone?

childhood friends?

what are habits they've picked up from other people?

what are their guilty pleasures?

what is something they're staunchly against?

do they speak a certain way? do they use contractions? popular turns of phrase?

can they fall in love? what does it look like? does it differ between people -- friends vs family?

what would they rather die than do?

what is their biggest mistake? one that they look out to never do again.

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despicablebisexual · 1 month

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Good Traits Gone Bad

Exploring good traits gone bad in a novel can add depth and complexity to your characters. Here are a few examples of good traits that can take a negative turn:

1. Empathy turning into manipulation: A character with a strong sense of empathy may use it to manipulate others' emotions and gain an advantage.

2. Confidence becoming arrogance: Excessive confidence can lead to arrogance, where a character belittles others and dismisses their opinions.

3. Ambition turning into obsession: A character's ambition can transform into an unhealthy obsession, causing them to prioritize success at any cost, including sacrificing relationships and moral values.

4. Loyalty becoming blind devotion: Initially loyal, a character may become blindly devoted to a cause or person, disregarding their own well-being and critical thinking.

5. Courage turning into recklessness: A character's courage can morph into reckless behavior, endangering themselves and others due to an overestimation of their abilities.

6. Determination becoming stubbornness: Excessive determination can lead to stubbornness, where a character refuses to consider alternative perspectives or change their course of action, even when it's detrimental.

7. Optimism becoming naivety: Unwavering optimism can transform into naivety, causing a character to overlook dangers or be easily deceived.

8. Protectiveness turning into possessiveness: A character's protective nature can evolve into possessiveness, where they become overly controlling and jealous in relationships.

9. Altruism becoming self-neglect: A character's selflessness may lead to neglecting their own needs and well-being, to the point of self-sacrifice and burnout.

10. Honesty becoming brutal bluntness: A character's commitment to honesty can turn into brutal bluntness, hurting others with harsh and tactless remarks.

These examples demonstrate how even admirable traits can have negative consequences when taken to extremes or used improperly. By exploring the complexities of these traits, you can create compelling and multi-dimensional characters in your novel.

Happy writing!

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despicablebisexual · 2 months

Photo

me if you even care

Oh wow

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despicablebisexual · 2 months

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Timestopper

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despicablebisexual · 2 months

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despicablebisexual · 2 months

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words to use when writing

Appetite:

craving, demand, gluttony, greed, hunger, inclination, insatiable, longing, lust, passion, ravenousness, relish, taste, thirst, urge, voracity, weakness, willingness, yearning, ardor, dedication, desire, devotion, enthusiasm, excitement, fervor, horny, intensity, keenness, wholeheartedness, zeal

Arouse:

agitate, awaken, electrify, enliven, excite, entice, foment, goad, incite, inflame, instigate, kindle, provoke, rally, rouse, spark, stimulate, stir, thrill, waken, warm, whet, attract, charm, coax, fire up, fuel, heat up, lure, produce, stir up, tantalize, tease, tempt, thrum, torment, wind up, work up

Assault:

attack, advancing, aggressive, assailing, charging, incursion, inundated, invasion, offensive, onset, onslaught, overwhelmed, ruinous, tempestuous, strike, violation, ambush, assail, barrage, bombard, bombardment, crackdown, wound

Beautiful:

admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, bewitching, charming, dazzling, delicate, delightful, divine, elegant, enticing, exquisite, fascinating, gorgeous, graceful, grand, magnificent, marvelous, pleasing, radiant, ravishing, resplendent, splendid, stunning, sublime, attractive, beguiling, captivating, enchanting, engaging, enthralling, eye-catching, fetching, fine, fine-looking, good-looking, handsome, inviting, lovely, mesmeric, mesmerizing, pretty, rakish, refined, striking, tantalizing, tempting

Brutal:

atrocious, barbarous, bloodthirsty, callous, cruel, feral, ferocious, hard, harsh, heartless, inhuman, merciless, murderous, pitiless, remorseless, rough, rude, ruthless, savage, severe, terrible, unmerciful, vicious, bestial, brute, brutish, cold-blooded, fierce, gory, nasty, rancorous, sadistic, uncompromising, unfeeling, unforgiving, unpitying, violent, wild

Burly:

able-bodied, athletic, beefy, big, brawny, broad-shouldered, bulky, dense, enormous, great, hard, hardy, hearty, heavily built, heavy, hefty, huge, husky, immense, large, massive, muscular, mighty, outsized, oversized, powerful, powerfully built, prodigious, robust, solid, stalwart, stocky, stout, strapping, strong, strongly built, sturdy, thick, thickset, tough, well-built, well-developed

Carnal:

animalistic, bodily, impure, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, libidinous, licentious, lustful, physical, prurient, salacious, sensuous, voluptuous, vulgar, wanton, , coarse, crude, dirty, raunchy, rough, unclean

Dangerous:

alarming, critical, fatal, formidable, impending, malignant, menacing, mortal, nasty, perilous, precarious, pressing, serious, terrible, threatening, treacherous, urgent, vulnerable, wicked, acute, damaging, deadly, death-defying, deathly, destructive, detrimental, explosive, grave, harmful, hazardous, injurious, lethal, life-threatening, noxious, poisonous, risky, severe, terrifying, toxic, unsafe, unstable, venomous

Dark:

atrocious, corrupt, forbidding, foul, infernal, midnight, morbid, ominous, sinful, sinister, somber, threatening, twilight, vile, wicked, abject, alarming, appalling, baleful, bizarre, bleak, bloodcurdling, boding evil, chilling, cold, condemned, creepy, damned, daunting, demented, desolate, dire, dismal, disturbing, doomed, dour, dread, dreary, dusk, eerie, fear, fearsome, frightening, ghastly, ghostly, ghoulish, gloom, gloomy, grave, grim, grisly, gruesome, hair-raising, haunted, hideous, hopeless, horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifying, horror, ill-fated, ill-omened, ill-starred, inauspicious, inhospitable, looming, lost, macabre, malice, malignant, menacing, murky, mysterious, night, panic, pessimistic, petrifying, scary, shadows, shadowy, shade, shady, shocking, soul-destroying, sour, spine-chilling, spine-tingling, strange, terrifying, uncanny, unearthly, unlucky, unnatural, unnerving, weird, wretched

Delicious:

enticing, exquisite, luscious, lush, rich, savory, sweet, tasty, tempting, appetizing, delectable, flavorsome, full of flavor, juicy, lip-smacking, mouth-watering, piquant, relish, ripe, salty, spicy, scrummy, scrumptious, succulent, tangy, tart, tasty, yummy, zesty

Ecstasy:

delectation, delirium, elation, euphoria, fervor, frenzy, joy, rapture, transport, bliss, excitement, happiness, heaven, high, paradise, rhapsody, thrill, blissful, delighted, elated, extremely happy, in raptures (of delight), in seventh heaven, jubilant, on cloud nine, overexcited, overjoyed, rapturous, thrilled

Ecstatic:

delirious, enraptured, euphoric, fervent, frenzied, joyous, transported, wild

Erotic:

amatory, amorous, aphrodisiac, carnal, earthy, erogenous, fervid, filthy, hot, impassioned, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, raw, romantic, rousing, salacious, seductive, sensual, sexual, spicy, steamy, stimulating, suggestive, titillating, voluptuous, tantalizing

Gasp:

catch of breath, choke, gulp, heave, inhale, pant, puff, snort, wheeze, huff, rasp, sharp intake of air, short of breath, struggle for breath, swallow, winded

Heated:

ardent, avid, excited, fervent, fervid, fierce, fiery, frenzied, furious, impassioned, intense, passionate, raging, scalding, scorched, stormy, tempestuous, vehement, violent, ablaze, aflame, all-consuming, blazing, blistering, burning, crazed, explosive, febrile, feverish, fired up, flaming, flushed, frantic, hot, hot-blooded, impatient, incensed, maddening, obsessed, possessed, randy, searing, sizzling, smoldering, sweltering, torrid, turbulent, volatile, worked up, zealous

Hunger:

appetite, ache, craving, gluttony, greed, longing, lust, mania, mouth-watering, ravenous, voracious, want, yearning, thirst

Hungry:

avid, carnivorous, covetous, craving, eager, greedy, hungered, rapacious, ravenous, starved, unsatisfied, voracious, avaricious, desirous, famished, grasping, insatiable, keen, longing, predatory, ravening, starving, thirsty, wanting

Intense:

forceful, severe, passionate, acute, agonizing, ardent, anxious, biting, bitter, burning, close, consuming, cutting, deep, eager, earnest, excessive, exquisite, extreme, fervent, fervid, fierce, forcible, great, harsh, impassioned, keen, marked, piercing, powerful, profound, severe, sharp, strong, vehement, violent, vivid, vigorous

Liquid:

damp, cream, creamy, dripping, ichorous, juicy, moist, luscious, melted, moist, pulpy, sappy, soaking, solvent, sopping, succulent, viscous, wet / aqueous, broth, elixir, extract, flux, juice, liquor, nectar, sap, sauce, secretion, solution, vitae, awash, moisture, boggy, dewy, drenched, drip, drop, droplet, drowning, flood, flooded, flowing, fountain, jewel, leaky, milky, overflowing, saturated, slick, slippery, soaked, sodden, soggy, stream, swamp, tear, teardrop, torrent, waterlogged, watery, weeping

Lithe:

agile, lean, pliant, slight, spare, sinewy, slender, supple, deft, fit, flexible, lanky, leggy, limber, lissom, lissome, nimble, sinuous, skinny, sleek, slender, slim, svelte, trim, thin, willowy, wiry

Moan:

beef, cry, gripe, grouse, grumble, lament, lamentation, plaint, sob, wail, whine, bemoan, bewail, carp, deplore, grieve, gripe, grouse, grumble, keen, lament, sigh, sob, wail, whine, mewl

Moving:

(exciting,) affecting, effective arousing, awakening, breathless, dynamic, eloquent, emotional, emotive, expressive, fecund, far-out, felt in gut, grabbed by, gripping, heartbreaking, heartrending, impelling, impressive, inspirational, meaningful, mind-bending, mind-blowing, motivating, persuasive, poignant, propelling, provoking, quickening, rallying, rousing, significant, stimulating, simulative, stirring, stunning, touching, awe-inspiring, energizing, exhilarating, fascinating, heart pounding, heart stopping, inspiring, riveting, thrilling

Need:

compulsion, demand, desperate, devoir, extremity, impatient longing, must, urge, urgency / desire, appetite, avid, burn, craving, eagerness, fascination, greed, hunger, insatiable, longing, lust, taste, thirst, voracious, want, yearning, ache, addiction, aspiration, desire, fever, fixation, hankering, hope, impulse, inclination, infatuation, itch, obsession, passion, pining, wish, yen

Pain:

ache, afflict, affliction, agony, agonize, anguish, bite, burn, chafe, distress, fever, grief, hurt, inflame, laceration, misery, pang, punish, sting, suffering, tenderness, throb, throe, torment, torture, smart

Painful:

aching, agonizing, arduous, awful, biting, burning, caustic, dire, distressing, dreadful, excruciating, extreme, grievous, inflamed, piercing, raw, sensitive, severe, sharp, tender, terrible, throbbing, tormenting, angry, bleeding, bloody, bruised, cutting, hurting, injured, irritated, prickly, skinned, smarting, sore, stinging, unbearable, uncomfortable, upsetting, wounded

Perverted:

aberrant, abnormal, corrupt, debased, debauched, defiling, depraved, deviant, monstrous, tainted, twisted, vicious, warped, wicked, abhorrent, base, decadent, degenerate, degrading, dirty, disgusting, dissipated, dissolute, distasteful, hedonistic, immodest, immoral, indecent, indulgent, licentious, nasty, profligate, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, shameful, shameless, sickening, sinful, smutty, sordid, unscrupulous, vile

Pleasurable:

charming, gratifying, luscious, satisfying, savory, agreeable, delicious, delightful, enjoyable, nice, pleasant, pleasing, soothing, succulent

Pleasure:

bliss, delight, gluttony, gratification, relish, satisfaction, thrill, adventure, amusement, buzz, contentment, delight, desire, ecstasy, enjoyment, excitement, fun, happiness, harmony, heaven, joy, kick, liking, paradise, seventh heaven

Rapacious:

avaricious, ferocious, furious, greedy, predatory, ravening, ravenous, savage, voracious, aggressive, gluttonous, grasping, insatiable, marauding, plundering

Rapture:

bliss, ecstasy, elation, exaltation, glory, gratification, passion, pleasure, floating, unbridled joy

Rigid:

adamant, austere, definite, determined, exact, firm, hard, rigorous, solid, stern, uncompromising, unrelenting, unyielding, concrete, fixed, harsh, immovable, inflexible, obstinate, resolute, resolved, severe, steadfast, steady, stiff, strong, strict, stubborn, taut, tense, tight, tough, unbending, unchangeable, unwavering

Sudden:

abrupt, accelerated, acute, fast, flashing, fleeting, hasty, headlong, hurried, immediate, impetuous, impulsive, quick, quickening, rapid, rash, rushing, swift, brash, brisk, brusque, instant, instantaneous, out of the blue, reckless, rushed, sharp, spontaneous, urgent, without warning

Thrust:

(forward) advance, drive, forge, impetus, impulsion, lunge, momentum, onslaught, poke, pressure, prod, propulsion, punch, push, shove, power, proceed, progress, propel

(push hard) assail, assault, attack, bear down, buck, drive, force, heave, impale, impel, jab, lunge, plunge, press, pound, prod, ram, shove, stab, transfix, urge, bang, burrow, cram, gouge, jam, pierce, punch, slam, spear, spike, stick

Thunder-struck:

amazed, astonished, aghast, astounded, awestruck, confounded, dazed, dazed, dismayed, overwhelmed, shocked, staggered, startled, stunned, gob-smacked, bewildered, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, horrified, incredulous, surprised, taken aback

Torment:

agony, anguish, hurt, misery, pain, punishment, suffering, afflict, angst, conflict, distress, grief, heartache, misfortune, nightmare, persecute, plague, sorrow, strife, tease, test, trial, tribulation, torture, turmoil, vex, woe

Touch:

(physical) - blow, brush, caress, collide, come together, contact, converge, crash, cuddle, embrace, feel, feel up, finger, fondle, frisk, glance, glide, graze, grope, handle, hit, hug, impact, join, junction, kiss, lick, line, manipulate, march, massage, meet, nudge, palm, partake, pat, paw, peck, pet, pinch, probe, push, reach, rub, scratch, skim, slide, smooth, strike, stroke, suck, sweep, tag, tap, taste, thumb, tickle, tip, touching, toy, bite, bump, burrow, buss, bury, circle, claw, clean, clutch, cover, creep, crush, cup, curl, delve, dig, drag, draw, ease, edge, fiddle with, flick, flit, fumble, grind, grip, grub, hold, huddle, knead, lap, lave, lay a hand on, maneuver, manhandle, mash, mold, muzzle, neck, nestle, nibble, nip, nuzzle, outline, play, polish, press, pull, rasp, ravish, ream, rim, run, scoop, scrabble, scrape, scrub, shave, shift, shunt, skate, slip, slither, smack, snake, snuggle, soothe, spank, splay, spread, squeeze, stretch, swipe, tangle, tease, thump, tongue, trace, trail, tunnel twiddle, twirl, twist, tug, work, wrap

(mental) - communicate, examine, inspect, perception, scrutinize

Wet:

bathe, bleed, burst, cascade, course, cover, cream, damp, dampen, deluge, dip, douse, drench, dribble, drip, drizzle, drool, drop, drown, dunk, erupt, flood, flow, gush, immerse, issue, jet, leach, leak, moisten, ooze, overflow, permeate, plunge, pour, rain, rinse, run, salivate, saturate, secrete, seep, shower, shoot, slaver, slobber, slop, slosh, sluice, spill, soak, souse, spew, spit, splash, splatter, spout, spray, sprinkle, spurt, squirt, steep, stream, submerge, surge, swab, swamp, swill, swim, trickle, wash, water

Wicked:

abominable, amoral, atrocious, awful, base, barbarous, dangerous, debased, depraved, distressing, dreadful, evil, fearful, fiendish, fierce, foul, heartless, hazardous, heinous, immoral, indecent, intense, mean, nasty, naughty, nefarious, offensive, profane, scandalous, severe, shameful, shameless, sinful, terrible, unholy, vicious, vile, villainous, wayward, bad, criminal, cruel, deplorable, despicable, devious, ill-intentioned, impious, impish, iniquitous, irreverent, loathsome, Machiavellian, mad, malevolent, malicious, merciless, mischievous, monstrous, perverse, ruthless, spiteful, uncaring, unkind, unscrupulous, vindictive, virulent, wretched

Writhe:

agonize, bend, jerk, recoil, lurch, plunge, slither, squirm, struggle, suffer, thrash, thresh, twist, wiggle, wriggle, angle, arc, bow, buck, coil, contort, convulse, curl, curve, fidget, fight, flex, go into spasm, grind, heave, jiggle, jolt, kick, rear, reel, ripple, resist, roll, lash, lash out, screw up, shake, shift, slide, spasm, stir, strain, stretch, surge, swell, swivel, thrust, turn violently, tussle, twitch, undulate, warp, worm, wrench, wrestle, yank

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despicablebisexual · 3 months

Text

Spectrum

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader Rating: Mature (sexual content referenced, but not explicit) WC: 2,918 Warnings: None Sequel to In A Different Light -----

The lackey behind the counter hardly looks up, barely says anything as they pass you the repair request forms. It's fine, you get it. Menial labor, repetitive office bullshit, dealing with the guys who walk their mechs into walls when training while trying to avoid the higher-ups gaze. Normal Talon stuff. This is perfectly true until he asks you what floor of the barracks you're on, what wing.

And suddenly the lady behind him perks up. She doesn't even try to hide how she looks you over, making some unspoken assessment, then grins and returns to her tablet.

The barely suppressed smile infects his voice with excitement. "Don't suppose you're in 1813, are you?"

Oh. Fuck. "Yeah, I am."

"Kinda wondering when you'd make it down here." He says, typing in your information. "If you would."

You shouldn't say anything. You really, really shouldn't.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, you know." He grins at you, fucking winks like you're in on the joke. "There was a pool if you'd be here or the infirmary first."

The infirmary? Why would you- actually, he did break your bed and leave a hole in your wall and you have had this peculiar ache behind your belly button and you definitely have huge purple splotches over your hips where he'd grabbed you, so, okay, that's fair.

"I guess you won then." Is the light-lipped answer you come up with, unsure how to explain that you really don't want to be part of this conversation anymore. Please, just fix your bed and wall. Gossip when you're not around.

The guy opens his mouth- and you feel it before his expression changes. A cool wind brushes against the back of your neck, down your spine, over the backs of your arms. Sickly, somehow, like the air itself clings to you, crawls on you. Everyone behind the counter looks away. His joy is gone, but the fear is carefully masked. "Reason for repairs?"

Behind you, boots stomp by. He doesn't leave, from the sound, from the way nobody exhales. You don't look, keep your eyes trained on the counter, on a little fleck where the linoleum is peeling away. He's somewhere in a corner, waiting for something. "Accident."

The lackey visibly cringes. Suddenly he, too, doesn't want to be in this conversation. "Gotta be more specific."

Fucker. Your voice is barely restrained as you bite out, "Sparring accident."

Behind you, the Reaper snorts.

When Ramattra returns to your base, perhaps only two weeks later, you really expect him to just proceed as business as usual. Like nothing had happened; he'd sated his curiosity, you're off his radar. Figuratively. You do not, under any circumstances, expect to be pulled off regular duties to be part of his temporary squadron.

It's a formality. He doesn't need one. He's here to inspect an airship, to discuss modifications to be made before it goes into mass production.

With an irritated sigh and wave of his hand, he summarily dismisses the entire squadron as soon as he sees them waiting in the hangar. The rest leave. You should join them. It's so... presumptuous, to think he thinks about you, that he even remembers you. He's leading a revolution for his people and you're a grunt he fucked once. But your boots may as well have been glued to the floor, no matter how much you want to scream at yourself to move, to turn away, you can't.

And his gaze settles on you.

And he nods towards the airship's ramp.

You follow behind him.

It's the first time you watch him leave. Every time before- three, now, not that you're counting- he's quietly departed your quarters. After making sure you're well cared for. That part had always confused you- left your chest aching in a way completely different than your hips.

But this time, you're not left alone in your mattress working up the courage to go file a repair request again. No, as part of his squadron you get to see him off this time. It's all a show, Ramattra had complained about it before- serves nothing but to boost their little human egos. He wasn't wrong, there's no need for you to be here. In fact, you really don't want to be here.

You've never seen Doomfist in person, but he personally escorts Ramattra to his shuttle. He speaks confidently, but quietly enough you can't make out what he's saying, even as he gestures broadly with his cybernetic arm. Even seeing him content makes your stomach flip uneasily, not wanting to be around if something does go wrong.

Ramattra... looks different. It's hard to believe how quickly you've become used to seeing him relaxed. Not just when he's moving in you- no, even when he sits with you, walks about the base, he never looks like this anymore. All seriousness and focused, the weight of the world back on his shoulders.

They speak a moment more, then Ramattra bows his head and turns towards his ship. He stops-

and across the launch bay, Ramattra's faceplate turns towards you. He pauses. Says nothing, hardly moves- but you know. He's looking directly at you. You stare back, unsure why you have his attention now- and ever so slightly his head dips. A tiny nod goodbye, just for you.

Your chest aches.

You smile slightly and nod back- and he's gone, entering his ship and flying away.

You don’t know who finally made the call to assign Ramattra temporary quarters at your base, but you would love to have seen that conversation. Because Ramattra’s voice is perfectly neutral as he comments that his quarters had not only a heavy duty, solid steel bed frame to support his weight- nevermind that he doesn’t sleep- but also reinforced walls.

They knew, of course. But the fact that someone high up enough knew to make the recommendation is what really gets you. Because nobody has said anything to you. Maybe they’re smart enough to- you doubt Ramattra would be particularly pleased with you being public knowledge.

And, well, not saying anything has ended up being your approach with Ramattra so far, too. Despite the frequency that he’d return to your doorway (and now you to his), or the repeated repair requests and occasional trips to medical and skeptical looks in return, you’d never explicitly asked what was going on. What exactly you were to him.

And normally that would be fine! Soldier’s bond or whatever, some bullshit to say “logistically and emotionally easiest lay.” It’s common enough. But you’ve never laid in a squadmate’s bed hours after, never dozed lightly in someone else’s blankets as they work at the desk a foot away- and never felt that perhaps that was still too far from you.

It’s the latter right now that sits heavy on your chest.

You shift beneath his sheets- a silky, deep purple that ripples with every moment. You watch, silent, as he turns some kind of device in his hands, taps it occasionally with an electric soldering iron. You sit up slowly, lean into his pillows. Even the pillowcases match. Probably actual silk knowing Talon’s propensity to keep their board members happy. Fuckers. He doesn’t even meditate on the bed.

“Ramattra,” The question bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Can I… kiss you?”

He stills. But here, you must acknowledge how close you’ve gotten- because you can tell. Where someone else may feel that pang of fear, that his quiet is a wind-up to rage or impatience or condescension, no, you can read his shoulders perfectly. He’s genuinely contemplating the request.

He looks to you, and he doesn’t need a face for you to feel the incredulity in his voice. “You do understand I do not possess a mouth, correct?”

“I know.” You stand and sweep one thin blanket with you as you move to him. And here- he turns away from his project, sets his iron down, opens his arms for you. When you settle into his lap, he supports you- and when you reach for his face, his jaw, he lowers his head into your touch. You sweep a thumb across the lowest part of the white composite, feel the little crease between it and the purple of his jaw plate. “But I could still kiss you..”

His whole face rumbles into your palm as he hums, considering this. “Alright, though I do not understand what you would gain from this.”

And that is a lie, though you’re not sure who it’s for. It’s fine though, you don’t call him on it. Instead, you guide his head down as you stretch up- until your breath ghosts against him, leaving little puffs of foggy condensation. And you kiss him. Right across the seam between his plates, your lips squishing into the gap, flattening against his metal.

And it would be like kissing a training bot, all cold, motionless metal against your lips- and that must be what he expects you to feel, his disbelief you’d get anything from this. It would be, except for everything else about him. His hands come up to the curve of your spine, to the back of your head, cradling you so gently- and even with such a small display, his fans kick up, a quiet hum purring a hair louder from his chest. Without a mouth, he’s hardly unaffected- and against his faceplate you smile and pull away. His optics cannot, by design, be half-lidded and glazed, but you think they would be if they could.

“Did that… satisfy you?” He rumbles lowly.

“For now.” You grin and tuck yourself deeper into his lap. When he realizes you have no intention of returning to his bed, he makes a show of sighing and adjusting the stolen blanket so you’re well-wrapped and all the ends are tucked safely away before he returns to his work.

"Can I ask you a question?" You murmur, eyes still closed. He's foregone the blanket this time, holding you right up against his chest; you had curled up with him so quickly he hasn't even had time to put his paneling back on. The spars of his ribs are a little uncomfortable, but he's still so warm that you can't complain.

"Of course." His systems have already refreshed, perfectly capable of going on with his day. Unlike you, you're still wavering and floaty and in need of a shower. He's used to it. Being able to hold you afterwards is... enjoyable. He allows himself to trace shapes over your skin. He had noticed, once, how you smile softly when he does it.

"It's personal."

Ramattra's head shifts, looks down at you slightly. He's told you about himself. About the times before he was himself, about the Shambali, about the slave shops he's destroyed, about London. About Lanet. What could you possibly ask that you felt the need to warn him about first? "Go on."

"Who did you make your dick for?" Oh. He shifts awkwardly, ceases the motions of his hands. When he doesn't answer you continue, "You told me you didn't make it for humans, so, I dunno. Was just curious."

It takes several moments before he can manage to put together a stilted "Does it matter?"

You hum softly and lean back against him. "No." You swap the places of your hand with his, sweeping your thumb across the purple plating. You really didn't want to upset him- the likelihood his previous relationships have ended particularly badly is ridiculously high. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me about your exes. Like I said, just curious."

Ramattra has never quite understood the desire to grimace until now. It's not important, and yet... that annoying little whisper has returned to his circuits, prodding at his runtimes until he's forcing the words through his synth. "I don't... have any... 'exes'."

This makes the gears turn in your head. There's no way. "Like... you just didn't stay with any of them?" Even as hectic as his life has been, you cannot reconcile how tenderly he's holding you with him previously being a smash and dasher. It would make sense logistically- no danger of loss or being tied down and losing focus on his work, but… there’s just no way.

"No." He all but squirms. "I never used it before you."

"What?"

"I designed it for..." His voice cuts out as his vocoder fights him again. "...a particular omnic. To their model's... specifications. But I never used it."

You twist around in his arms, as much as he'd prefer you didn't. It's uncomfortable enough without having to see your face, without his still-not-put-away dick pressed between your bodies. "But... you told me you'd fucked before."

Around you, Ramattra bristles, his fans ramping up, his hands firming where they touch you. Too far, you did upset him. "Omnics do not need things as crude as genitals to be intimate."

The pieces come together. Not an ex, they'd been intimate, enough that he'd designed a dick just to hope, but never used it. He wanted more. You slide a hand around Ramattra's neck, over the dark plating his cowl usually hides. Normally, when you slide your fingers around the chunky cables of his mane, he'll purr or at least relax- no such luck. "Sorry," You murmur, and trace a finger along the long line of his jaw piece. "Thank you for telling me."

It takes a few moments, but eventually a soft stream of hot air slips from Ramattra's vents and he sighs. You take the cue and curl up close to him, wrapping your arms around him as best you can with his wide chest. When you think he's calmed enough, you do tack on one last comment. "I am glad you made it, though."

Thankfully, Ramattra laughs softly at that.

Ramattra holds white papers in his hand, carefully held between the rubber pads there, delicate as to not crease them before you can read them. His other hand twitches as his side, then balls into a fist. He does not meet your gaze when he enters his room. He stands there, just past the doorway, clenching and unclenching his fist, his fans slowly amping up.

"Rama?" You prompt him when he still doesn’t say anything, already scooting to the edge of his bed.

"I have to attend to the construction of a titan in person." It's flat, a statement, no particular inflection in his voice where you're clearly expecting something else. "I won't be able to return here for several weeks. At minimum."

Now it's you who looks away. It's a disappointment. You knew it was coming, three days together was already an incredible luxury. "Ah, I see." He's busy, you know this. Lots of hard work running an entire revolution almost by yourself. And you can't fault him for it- can't ask him to postpone. It's important work. "When will you have to leave?"

"Five hours. I'm also chartering transport of supplies. My omnium is short on copper wire, of all things." He says- and his focus shifts from the floor to the paper in his hands. He rubs it, watches as the paper flexes and bends, then returns to normal. You, too, observe his fidgeting and wait for the shoe to drop. You've always kind of waited for it.

"Are you- " He starts- and his synth immediately fizzles. The hand at his side tightens in frustration as he reboots it. "Are you pleased with... this?" The paper flops in his hand as he gestures vaguely between you.

This.

Never did have that conversation.

You bite your tongue, chance looking at him. None of the strain in his vocoder has made it to his faceplate, forever stuck in that passive, almost angry expression. "Yeah." If he wants to kick you out, that's fine, but you aren't going to lie about it. His visits to your base have easily become the best part of your job, the occasional message of where he is, of when he can make it back to you- it's completely different than anything you've had before. "Yeah, actually."

Ramattra's shoulders drop. "You are sure? Genuinely?"

You nod. And he holds out the paper. You don't even unfold it before he's explaining. "It's a reassignment order. Production of Null Troopers is increasing geometrically; ideally I would oversee all production lines directly from here on. It would be... advantageous to have someone else coordinate with Talon on my behalf while I am engaged with this.

"I will be very occupied. This is a critical period of staging. And I would be relying on you." Ramattra says, and there's a sternness laid over top. He wants it to sound like a job offer, to sound serious. It is, to some degree. But more than that-

"You..." The top of the paper is printed with Talon's logo, a big block of text follows, beneath is a signature line. Your eyes skim the page again- and read the most important line. Relocate to meet the needs of Null Sector. "You want me to come with you?"

A breath of silence takes the room, until he steps closer and takes one of your hands in his. So gently, he drags the rubber pad of his thumb over your knuckles. His faceplate focuses there, on the delicate bones of your hand, your wrist. "It would... please me greatly to keep you near."

The ache in your chest blooms out, spills over your cheeks.

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