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antimatterz · 1 year

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how they take selfies with you

dan heng, jing yuan, seele, gepard, march, sampo, kafka, blade, tingyun (separately) x gn!reader

honkai version. i posted the same thing on my genshin writing blog so if it seems familiar, that's why. might do this again if more characters are released. there's a bit of possessiveness in blade's but that's about all.

content under the cut | masterlist

dan heng

he's surpringly easy when it comes to convincing him to take selfies with you. as someone who's often found in the archive room, he also likes to keep his own little "archive" of all that you experienced together, no matter how big or small the moment might've been. however, to get him to actually lose his stoic demeanor in said pictures is a little harder. he often looks super serious in pictures but you manage to make him smile sometimes. and oh, when he smiles in pictures you just spontanously combust because his smile is <333

jing yuan

jing yuan is known to have a very soft spot for you and it shows in the pictures the two of you take together. gentle smile, an arm over your shoulder as you lean against him. as a general of the cloud knights, he is often busy. to make up for the times you're unable to see each other, a lot of selfies exist (and he looks at them whenever he misses you or has a rough day on the job). he likes to show you off a little, and he is more than happy to talk about you when someone asks him about the person he poses with on his phone wallpaper. told ya, he has a massive soft spot for you.

seele

this girl appears super tough, but i can totally see her loosening up around you! still a girlboss ofcourse but with a massive soft spot for you that brings out her fun side. though a lot of pictures are very dark due to her living in belobog's underworld, that doesn't stop the joy from radiating off them. she isn't a big fan of taking selfies but makes an exception when you join in. honestly i can see her trying to appear all cool with a peace sign but in reality she just looks super cute with your arm around her waist. oh, and just wait until she discovers the existence of filters. she will beg you to try them all out together!

gepard landau

especially in the beginning, selfies together are kind of a rarity because he's simply too awkward lol. you might have to use your puppy eyes often if you want to snap a picture with him. but don't worry, later on he'll let loose a little and maybe even take the initiative to take pictures together. at first he looks in the camera with a blush, rather stiffly. but after a while he gets more comfy with the whole ordeal. it all begins with a simple hand on your shoulder, but at some point he will find his favorite pose; gepard likes holding you against his chest as you take pictures together, which is the cutest thing ever.

march 7th

this girl absolutely loves taking selfies with you. the time you two spend together is basically a vlog, as she records all the things you do. "y/n, smile!" she exclaims somewhere around five times per minute, as you are faced with her phone and a smiling march who leans her head onto your shoulder and snaps a photo. she finds it adorable how you sometimes look a little confused as she surprises you with another selfie. she always looks super cheerful in your pictures together as she adores spending time with you, and it's contagious! your photos radiate joy.

sampo koski

he's probably a little hesitant about taking pictures together (he's scared he might end up finding them on those wanted posters, you know) but at some point he gives in and oh, it will result in the most extra selfies to exist. he isn't afraid of funny poses and silly faces and goofy filters and you two just have a lot of fun as you take picture together. however, as he is still sampo koski, they will eventually leak and end up on a poster so yeah, there's that. as you find a picture of the two of you together plastered on a building (with a statement that emphasizes that it regards the blue-haired male) you can't help but laugh, tearing it from the wall as a keepsake.

kafka

pictures might leak, which may expose her whereabouts, but this woman couldn't care less. she knows she looks stunning in pictures and when you join her to take a selfie? that's the prettiest picture to ever exist in her eyes (and i agree). they appear very casual but she's totally showing you off! she wears a coy smile, fingers curling over your shoulder as she holds you close, to let everyone know you're taken. her goal is probably to take a selfie with you with a stellaron in the background, basically her favorite things together in one picture.

blade

this guy likes to show you off, believe me. he wants everyone to know that you're his, and he always holds you close when you take pictures together. he barely looks into the camera, having his eyes on you most of the time. only when he places a kiss on your cheek he gazes into the camera slyly, as if to say "they're mine, back off." he knows very well how good the two of you look together and not only that, he secretly just loves to have many pictures of you. fun fact, he carries a polaroid of you together with him and gets blushy when the other stellaron hunters tease him with it.

tingyun

she adores you, and it shows! every picture you take together is so so cute and pretty and it's just goals. she always wears the sweetest smile on your photos and you're lying if you say that her smile doesn't make your heart flutter! your pictures together just look very comfy and loving, with the most adorable poses (cheeks against each other, finishing each other's heart, and so on). her ears perk up every time you open your camera and ask her to join. sometimes, she gets a little shy when you wrap your arms around her before snapping a picture, and her ears would droop a little which is also very cuuute. but the cutest thing? the joy in her pretty eyes hehe.

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 months

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Like Real People Do - Part 1

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur Morgan doesn't quite feel like a person sometimes. Most days he's just an outlaw, a killer, a thief, a bad excuse for a good time. He's been doing this so long; he isn't even sure if he ever wanted to do anything else in life. That is until a barmaid asks him to walk her home and suddenly he gets a slice of normalcy.

Author's note: I can't for the life of me figure out why it won't let me post my whole stories on here. If anyone knows why, please let me know what I need to do.

'What can I get ya, mister?' Arthur grumbles in response before looking up at the barmaid. She looks too clean, too kind, to be here. She smiles and he hears angels singing. Cheeks rosy red, eyes like gemstones, she's pure. But she has the scars to prove she's been her a while. He notices the callouses on her hands, the scars on her arms, and the big scar running vertically through the left side of her lips to her jaw. 'Don't matter. Anything to take the edge off,' he tells her, his words raspy like crumpled up paper. She smiles a little brighter and puts a glass in front of him that she fills with bourbon. 'That should help,' she states and slides the glass over to him. He nods a thanks to her and tries to peel his eyes away to look over the bar. It's quite empty this time of day, then again, morning ain't really the time to be drinking. When he can't find anything to keep him entertained in the saloon, he looks back over to the barmaid, who is cleaning glasses in front of him with a rag that is cleaner than he has ever seen one in this particular saloon. She glances over at him. 'What brings you this early in the morn’?' 'Rough night.' 'I can imagine,' she says with a chuckle. 'Hey sweet cheeks! Can we get another bottle?' Arthur's head snaps towards the two men in the corner who so rudely interrupted their little talk, if you can even call it that. They look beyond drunk, beyond caring. But, the barmaid does as asked and brings them a bottle. 'Yeah, that's what I'm talking about,' the grimey man says when she puts the bottle down. He stands up and pulls the barmaid into his chest, groping what he can for the split second he has her before Arthur pulls him off. Like it's nothing, he pushes the man back into his chair. 'Listen here friend, I do not care about you. I do not care that you are here, I have no quarrel with you. But disrespect the lady and you have got a fight on your hands. Friend. Behave, or I'll make sure that that is your last drink.' 'Are you threatenin’ me mister?' 'No, simply making a promise.' Arthur puts his hand on the small of the barmaid's back to lead her back to the bar. She walks back behind it with a bit of shock still lingering on his face and he returns to his drink. 'Thank you mister.' 'No problem.'

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan angst #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #rdr 2 fanfic #rdr 2 fanfiction

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venomous-ragno · 1 year

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Writing advice...

... About military things from a soldier

Pt. 2 / ?: Women and relationships in the military

You wanna write a story with a militaristic setting, like CoD or R6S? You wanna create a female OC, self insert or character, but you don't know where to start, if women are even allowed in the military?

Well, lucky for you or not I know what that feels like and I've also got the combat / real life experience to help ya out!

Feel free to hop in my askbox or dm's and ask questions. I'll gladly elaborate and do my best to answer in full and plenty.

Disclaimer: My experiences and knowledge are mostly based on the German military, the Bundeswehr. They may differ from those of other countries.

Happy writing y'all! :)

Are women allowed in the military?

The answer seems obvious: Yes. Most militaries around the world do allow women to enlist. Some, however, do not allow women to join the special forces, such as the SAS, for example.

Certain branches report a higher number of female soldiers than others. The US army air force and sanitation in the German military are two examples I can think of.

Some countries do allow women to enlist but forbid them from partaking in "action", such as North Korea, Sweden, Norway, Bolivia and some more.

What about misogyny by male soldiers?

In my six years of active duty I've learnt that sexism rarely occurs, but when it does, it's straight forward and nasty. Most men don't care about your gender. They treat you like you're one of them, and oftentimes even forget about the fact that you're a woman. The few times I was talked down to for my gender was blatant and hateful though; but even then, some of these opinions didn't come from within the military, but from civilians. (Cue the old granpa who saw me travelling back home in uniform and just had to tell me that women belong in the kitchen, how in the good old days women were still women yadda yadda. Yeah, I had the same look about on my face like you now.)

Appearance is important!

As is in any military. I can't speak for them though, but in my experience, light and natural make up is allowed. Nail polish and lipstick are a hard no though, albeit the latter may be allowed for special occassions. If there's one thing my comrades have taught me it's that most men in the military got no clue about make up, so you'll probs get away with more than you'd think.

The exact rules however depend on your unit and what you do. Back when I was in sanitation I'd be working a pretty standard 9 to 5. Worked in the medbay and treated patients, kept the medical archive in order, pretty normal stuff. My superior allowed us to wear small ear studs. When I got deployed to another base I was almost lynched for wearing them. Really depends on the ones in charge.

As for hairstyles: Most units are fine with anything as long as your hair is up and out of your face. Now, we didn't have to use gel to keep stray hairs at bay. It wasn't that strict. Just don't use any flashy hair accessories and hair ties that match your hair colour. Oh, and your hair must be a) one colour and b) a naturally occuring one. The length doesn't matter as long as you're not Rapunzel. If your hairstyle is anything other than a pixie cut, you will have to wear a hair net under your combat helmet.

Do men and women stay in seperate dorms?

Seperate rooms? Yeah. Seperate dorms? Nope.

Sometimes you'd have couples who shared a dorm room. It's a whole process that your superior has to give his ok to, but I honestly wouldn't recommend it. Dorm rooms aren't exactly big. You need privacy? Well, that's too bad.

If you're lucky enough you get to have a room for yourself. Depending on what branch / base you're in, the rooms will be more or less furnished. Back when I worked at the ministry of foreign affairs, my room was pretty luxurious for milutary standards: TV, fridge, sofa, bed, desk w chair, a closet and a bathroom next door. That's definitely not the standard though. We usually had to buy and bring our own stuff, like blankets, fridge, decorations, whatever you'd need to make that cold room somewhat comfy. (Wifi is also not a given. Gotta get your own connection running.)

Flings, relationships, cheating spouses... How common is it really?

They do happen, though not as often as you'd think.

It's more common to hear rumors about who has smth going with who and these rumors can get BAD. As in reputation and career ruining bad. At that point there's gonna be an order from higher up to stop talking about these rumors and punishment can be quite strict. (Speaking of rumors...Hate to say it, but the more women a unit had, the worse talking behind others backs was.)

One thing that I always found particularly disgusting were relationships between higher ups and recruits. Yes, they happen. No, they're not allowed. These things are like open secrets. If found out and proven to exist, the superiors will be held accountable by military law. Outside of basic training it may be frowned upon if a superior were to enter any kind of relation with someone of lower rank, thought not outright punishable.

As for cheating... Well, I haven't enountered any cheating myself, nor heard of it (yet). Not saying that it doesn't happen, but at least over here in Germany it's rare. It's highly frowned upon and will open you up to rumors and... Not so nice treatment by comrades. Cheating on a spouse is punishable by military law. A soldier found guilty may be demoted in rank, suffer financial losses or even get dishonourably discharged.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #mod talks #call of duty headcanons #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty könig #call of duty soap

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winniemaywebber · 16 days

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Honeysuckle Rose • Part 2 part one masterlist olive's playlist

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @archival-hogwash

Wheeling her two large suitcases down the winding country road, her nose twitches. The all too familiar smell that she'd long forgotten of the nearby cow farm attacked her nostrils with such vigor that it took everything in her to not gag. Nostrils accosted for the first time in years by that godawful smell, Olive gained some composure as she pulled open the still creaky gate of her grandmother's cottage.

The gate, taken by the rough breeze of the countryside, clicked back into place suddenly, causing Olive to jump. Even before she has made the ascent up the garden path to reach the front door, Joan has started to make her way down to greet her.

Joan, the lady that had been helping Grandma Pearl since her first fall eighteen months ago, was a tall, stocky woman that took no shit from anybody, especially not Pearl. No matter how many times Grandma was rude, cranky, and downright mean, Joan stuck by her because she just loved taking care of her so much. She looks different than Olive remembers, her round, apple like cheeks having lost their usual blush, but instead, look gray and sunken in. She's lost her plushness, and she stands in an all black outfit, a total change from her usual bold outfit choices of tie dye, purple denim and, what Grandma liked to call “circus attire.”

“Joan!” Olive greets brightly, opening her arms for an awkward hug. Joan hugs back so tight that it draws the breath from Olive's lungs, and she finds herself gasping for air, patting her shoulder as a sign to let go. “Jesus, Joan,” she murmurs under her breath.

“I'm so sorry to hear about Alfred,” Olive says, voice back up to normal volume. “He was such a kind man.”

“Thank you, dear,” she replies, her eyes glistening with tears. “I miss him terribly…” her voice trails off, wistfully and she comes back to the conversation a few seconds later. “I'm so happy you're here. I really am grateful for you coming at such short notice like this.”

“Oh, of course!” Olive says, shrugging as if it was nothing.

“I just need time to get everything in check,” she sniffs, leading you into the house. “Who'd have thought that planning a funeral would be so stressful?”

Olive titters, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. “Right?” She pauses, a moment of silence between them. “Well, I'm here to help now. Not just Pearl, but you, too.”

Following Joan into the living room, Olive sees Pearl sat in her favorite armchair, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Grandma?” she calls, hoping she'll tear her eyes away from whichever midday soap opera has caught her fancy.

“Oh, hello, you,” she replies, eyes instantly softening. “Big city girl. Come here!” Her big, gentle arms outstretched, Olive walks over to her and kneels down to where she sits to be enveloped in her arms. “Hi, Pearly Girly,” she mumbles into her, suddenly glad to be home. “How goes it?”

“Oh, you know,” she shrugs, blanket falling off as she does so. “Not too bad if you forget the fact that I'm old as dirt and can't go to the bingo alone.”

“It'll much more fun with me,” Olive says, her tone lowered so Joan doesn't hear her from the kitchen where she's busy making tea. “I'll let you have a tipple. Guinness and blackcurrant. Maybe even two if you let me sleep in on Sundays.” Pearl laughs, her blue eyes lighting up.

“Deal.”

Joan brings in the tea tray, her hands shaking slightly as she begins to set it down on the small table in the middle of the room.

“Let me get that,” Olive stands, holding her hands out to grab the tray before Joan's shaking causes everything to fall off it onto the light carpet. Placing it on to the table, she begins to pour Grandma a cup of tea, just the way she likes it. Milk and sugar in first, then the tea and stirred clockwise eight times.

“You remembered!” Joan says, her mood lightening slightly.

“Of course,” Olive responds, getting to stirring. “It's been drilled into me since I was out of the womb.”

A warm, cozy feeling envelopes Olive as she sits on Grandma’s faded pink sofa, sipping on her tea. Joan silently hands her a sheet of paper, looking at her expectantly.

“Found this for you,” she says, her eyes now downcast. “When you're ready, give them a call.”

Wanted: actresses of every experience to play Land Girls at Thorpe Abbotts.

Thorpe Abbotts, famous for hosting the 100th Bomb Group during World War II is seeking girls 18+ for reenactment roles as we begin school tours for the summer months. Call XXX-XX-XXX to arrange a meeting.

“Wow,” Olive stutters out, slightly impressed. “Didn't know they did stuff like this.”

“Not usually,” Joan replies. “But it's for the schoolkids. It's good money, good hours, too. Lines up for when Pearl has her home help and I'm not here. Go on, put your skills to good use.”

“You know what,” Olive says, placing her teacup upon the tray. “I think I might.”

—

A moody woman with a pinched face looks Olive up and down. Despite her glares, this happens to be the easiest audition Olive has ever had.

“You can start tomorrow. Be here at eight in the morning. Do you have dungarees?” Olive nods, a fake smile plastered on her face. “Good,” the stone faced lady carries on. “Feel free to walk around and get familiar with the place while it's quiet.”

Practically tiptoeing on the wooden floor, Olive finds herself suddenly curious about the place she'd had no intent to visit until now. The museum, a smaller one than the ones in London she'd visited during her time there, had a comforting stillness to it. She stops at certain exhibits, her eyes becoming glassy when she sees a picture of two men, facing each other and gazing into one another's eyes with such admiration that it almost knocks the air from her. “The Two Bucks,” she reads aloud, staring into the window. A few steps later, she is learning all about a heroic man named Robert Rosenthal. His information card tells her that his men called him Rosie, and he flew fifty-two missions during the war, the odds stacked against him at every turn. She also reads about the animals the airmen kept during their time at Thorpe Abbotts, including a sweet dog named Meatball.

Making her way outside, Olive spots the control tower in the distance, squinting up at the blurry windows that shelter it. She swears she almost can make out the shapes of airmen busy at work in there, shaking her head to rid her eyes of the tricks they play. Next to the control tower stands a large aircraft, the letter D painted on it in black. “Just-A-Snappin',” she reads aloud, walking up to it. Placing a hand on its wing and peering into it, a sudden sound stops her in her tracks. The sound of a large dog barking distracts Olive from her investigation of the plane, making her jump suddenly. She looks around and sees no sign of a dog, nor does she see from where the sound came. With a shrug, she begins making her way back through the courtyard of the museum and starts the short walk home to Pearl’s.

—

The day begins earlier than Olive is used to, struggling to leave her cozy bed at what feels like the crack of dawn. Sleepily taking a look at the time on her phone, she rubs her eyes to try to wake herself up a little more. The time reads 7am, leaving Olive just enough time to get ready for her first day at Thorpe Abbotts after getting Grandma out of bed and ready for the day. Despite Pearl’s protestations, Olive wants to ensure that the home helper has minimal work to do when she arrives.

“That's what the bloody helper is for,” she berates as she washes her face with a warm cloth. “Let them do their job, Ollie Pop.”

“Well, it's also why I'm here. I'm here to help, too. I've got time and you, young lady, need a wash.”

“Fine!” she relents, brow furrowed. Taking her granddaughter's hand, she looks at her, her eyes going soft. She takes in her appearance: dungarees with a checkered shirt underneath, a head scarf tied at the top of her head, boots and a small tote bag. “You look just like me, girlie. Just like I did during the war.”

“You were a land girl?”

“I was. It was the best time of my life. I made so many dear friends - and the men! Jesus, you've never seen a finer bunch of fellas. All American, all well built. All so handsome I couldn't help but swoon. One of two of them were very keen on me,” she says wistfully.

“Grandma!” Olive scolds, giggling as she pulls a lightweight shirt over Pearl’s head. Her eyes narrow towards her Grandma. “Not like I blame you. I'd have done the same.” Grandma breaks into a peal of laughter, her eyes beginning to shine again, just like they did before she took her first fall all those months ago.

—

Olive arrives at the museum, five minutes before the scheduled time.

“Hi,” she greets another girl meekly. “I'm Olive. Where am I meant to go?”

“Oh, hi, Olive!” she replies, giving her a big toothy grin. “You'll be with me. We're just walking over to the field right there. You look great!”

“Thanks,” she responds, tucking a strand of hair back into the scarf on her head. The era Olive had with being obsessed with wartime fashion and hair had finally come in handy, she thinks to herself, placing her bag into a small cubby that had been shown to her by the girl.

“I didn't get your name?” Olive says.

“Heather Crouch,” she replies. “You know what, I'm sure we went to school together.”

Olive squints a little, trying to make out the girl in front of her with younger features. “My goodness!” Olive says, finally recognizing her. “We had English literature together, in sixth form.”

“That's it!” she winks at Olive, holding the door open for her. “Come on, let's get started.”

Heather leads Olive and four others over to a field that's covered with straw, a few bean bag chairs hidden off to the side and a little shed of rakes and shovels.

“It's nothing strenuous,” Heather explains. “Just sort of poke at it all and make it look like you're doing something. The kiddos seem to lap it up.” Right on cue, a bunch of small school children begin their rounds of the outside of the museum which includes Olive's group, a tour of the B-17 she'd looked at yesterday and the control tower. Their eyes bright and keen, ready to learn, Olive listens intently as Heather explains what a land girl did and their contributions to the war effort. It isn't just the children that are learning today.

—

A few hours later, it's lunchtime. Olive takes her bag over to the only place that's shaded: underneath Just A-Snappin, the wings and body of the aircraft sheltering her from the warm sun. Biting into a sandwich bought from the museum's small kiosk, she breathes in the fresh country air, finally finding some comfort in her decision to come home. Despite all of its shortcomings, it was worth it to feel some semblance of peace for the first time in years.

Her wistfulness is once again interrupted by a familiar sound - the sound of a dog barking. She looks all around her, turning her head back and forth to find where the noise is coming from, but sees nothing. Looking over towards the field where she'd been working, she expects to see a large dog bounding on the yellowing grass, but it doesn't happen. Another bark startles her, it seeming to come from the aircraft door above her head.

Opening the door - emblazoned with the words “JERRY, IF YOU CAN READ THIS, START PRAYIN’” - the bark seems to echo through the plane, making her brow furrow. Looking all around to find the other reenactment people distracted by their own lunchtime conversations, Olive takes a deep breath and clambers into the aircraft as gracefully as possible, closing the door with a slam.

It's quickly sweltering hot in there, the heat almost making her choke. Shaking her head at her stupidity - “why on earth did I think I heard a dog barking in here?” she says aloud, metaphorically beating herself up - she opens the door again to let some cool air in. She's taken aback by the noise of a crowd of men, all deep in banter and conversation. Leaning out of the plane to get a better look, she clumsily falls out like a newborn baby giraffe, right at the feet of a handsome man, holding the leash of a husky.

“Wow,” the man begins, trying to hold in his laughter. “Never had a girl fall that hard and fast for me before.” Olive chuckles, slightly winded from the fall and also breathless from how wonderfully gorgeous the man is. He stands just shorter than her, his dark hair expertly gelled into place, his skin slightly tanned. “What were you doing in there?”

“I–uh…I was, uhm,” he nods at her to carry on. “I thought I heard the dog in there,” she shrugs, the words spilling out so fast that he has to pause to make sense of what you said.

“Right…” He replies, his eyes narrowing. “Well, you'd better get out the way,” he smiles, nodding over to the side at a group of men joining him.

“Oh, yeah,” Olive stutters nervously, moving out of the way quickly and almost wracking her head on the open door.

“Hey, careful,” the man says, shaking his head at Olive again. He pauses for a moment. “What's your name?”

“Olive,” she replies, voice slightly raised over the loud hum of airplanes. “You?”

“Demarco. Benny. And this here is Meatball.”

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #honeysuckle rose #winnie writes #olive lewis #🫒

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unhingedpolycule · 9 months

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Summoner AU Ghost x Soap x König (Part 2)

(Part: 2/?)

(Part 1)

There is this local summoning community, kind of a very loosely associated circle of people who are working with the occult. They are, for the most part, fiercely competitive and manipulative. Everyone tries to get information out of the other people, giving back as little as possible.

Valeria is known for ending up with peoples notes and research after they die under mysterious circumstances, presumably murdered by entities they had in their service for years and years without any problems. The circle suspects her and is wairy, but they can't really prove anything.

Shepherd is a nasty piece of work, always trying to set himself up as a coven leader, trying to establish an archive under his control with all of the knowledge they have. He is power hungry and uses demons to further his political and social sway. But he gets shit done and has been in the game for longer than most, so the other summoners do not downright disrespect him.

And Graves? Graves is sucking up to him, rubbing shoulders with any person who can benefit his motives. Shepherd has taken a shine to him as well, because he basically does as he is told, no questions asked. Soap keeps away from him as much as possible because crossing Phillip means messing with more powerful people than himself and he is basically just there to learn more.

But almost all summoners have one thing in common: no matter if they keep familiars, temporary servants or entities of any form, they treat them like shit. Trapping them in objects, using cattle prods to whip them into shape.

It is common knowledge that your demons will kill you, if you let the control slip, if you untighten the leash, so nobody does, there have been too many cautionary tales. People ripped apart, eaten, strung up on their own ceiling.they tell each other “It is like dealing with a rabid dog. If you need to keep it, you do not coddle it, you keep it locked up, its fangs away from your throat.

So naturally, resident sunshine Johnny MacTavish sticks out like a sore thumb. He is happy to share small tidbits, mostly stuff he is particularly passionate about. He usually doesn't brag unless someone prompts him or laughs about his accomplishments. He is notorious for having things blow up in his face, but he usually walks away from it with just a few bruises, head still firmly attached to his shoulders. Everybody knows he messes with forces who seem way too big for such a young and inexperienced summoner. It makes him a liability and a risk to be around. But sometimes, on the rare occasions he shows off his summoned entities, they are baffled. He shouldn't be able to keep such a diverse and strong portfolio of spirits.

He also rotates them at an alarming speed, never binding entities for very long. It is honestly a mystery what he is up to.

Everyone who's a practitioner is like "Soap is a fucking terrible demon handler, none of this is safe, he'll get himself killed! In fact, how hasn't he already gotten himself killed already?" And Soap's only secret is that he treats the entities with respect and kindness like a good fucking cookie and they wife him

He just rolls up with Ghost and König at some point, they are visible, following his every step, silent and menacingly. And PHILLIP out of all people is practically salivating over Soaps entities and asks how he „keeps them enslaved“

And Soap is like: „Uuuuhm? Enslaved? I do not keep them enslaved?“

Graves just rolls his eyes and is like: „You know exactly what I mean, it must be a hell of a workload to keep them docile like that, what do you use?!” Soap looks at him as if he is stupid (which he is, it’s Graves we are talking about) and tells him that usually, he just „asks them nicely“ and when they refuse he drops it. But they seldom do and if they do, he asks if they would like to tell him their reasoning. And usually they have thought of something he wasn’t aware of so it makes perfect sense why they refuse him. And even if they don’t, wouldn’t it ruin their friendly relationship if he made them do something? He is an adult, HE can handle being told no.

Graves is fucking livid because he thinks Soap is fucking with him and implies he is stupid.

Hid daddy will hear about this.

~Corr

@forestshadow-wolf this is for you because you have been so enthusiastic about this AU

#Summoners AU #call of duty #ghost cod #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #soap cod #ghost soap #cod könig #ghost soap könig

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manicplank · 3 months

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This may have already been asked and is deep in the headcanon archives, but

How does everyone act in front of their crush? (For the goober (Fake Peppino) it could just be his favorite person)

It has not yet been asked!

How do they act in front of their crush?

Peppino: Very bashful. He'll put on his customer service facade and act "normal". He will be very short in conversation and act more nervous than usual. He lets his low self-esteem get in the way of him making moves on them.

Gustavo: Bashful and goofy. He'll initiate conversation and try to get to know them. He gets giggly and will try to make them laugh. He'll talk about his interests with them as he kicks his little legs like a schoolgirl.

Mr. Stick: He'll be nice to them. Usually, he's pretty curt when it comes to interactions, but around his crush, he actually acts like a decent person. He will compliment them here and there about small things. He will be very subtle.

Pepperman: He talks less about himself and more about them. He tries to get to know them, and he'll compliment them A LOT. He might even offer to paint them sometime (for free). He comes on pretty strong as his social skills aren't the best.

The Vigilante: Very polite and gentlemanly. He'll do small gestures for them that he usually doesn't do; opening the door for them, buying them their favorite food or drink, etc.

The Noise: Acts cocky but gets flustered at times. He tries to act all cool, but he's filled with butterflies and fuzzy feelings. He will flirt with them lightly (but normally, he's a huge flirt anyways).

Noisette: Sweet and giddy. She smiles and giggles a lot. She'll touch them in small ways like a small bump on the shoulder if they say something funny and a hug every time they say hello and goodbye.

Fake Peppino: (Doing favorite person) YAAAAAAAAAAY! YAY YAY! Hello favorite person! Him loves favorite person! He will make little noises of excitement when he see them. He wants hugs! He will nuzzle his head on them! He will hop around in four legs in glee!

Pizzahead: Overly friendly. Super nice to them, treats them differently from most people. He treats them like they matter as opposed to treating them like a peasant. A real "Hey, you!" type of guy.

Pillar John: All of a sudden, this big, outgoing goofball is super shy! He will be a bit quiet, sometimes stumbling and stuttering his words. He's afraid of embarrassing himself in front of them.

Gerome: He gets super friendly. Usually, he's pretty stoic and closed off. Around his crush, he's a decent guy. They'd actually think he's just being nice as opposed to having a crush on him.

#pizza tower #noise #the noise #headcanon #noisette #pizzahead #peppino #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #mr. stick #pillar john #pizza tower gerome #pizza tower gustavo

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shujiinkou · 1 year

Text

rouge. | 575 words. dancae, honkai star rail, sfw, small angst.

Dan Heng's eyeliner pen broke. This wouldn't be a big issue, except it was in his pocket before his memory lapsed, and he doesn't know where to get it. He's been discreetly looking around whenever he had the chance and resulted in asking March if she's seen it.

Unlucky as he was, March has never seen the same shade of burgundy that laid under the man's bottom lash line, and the pen was snapped clean in half with no way of fixing. Luckily for him, March was able to find a dupe - a few of similar colors. Just glancing at the colors, Dan Heng could tell none of them were an exact match and he was unsure completely of what to do, this rouge color was one of his last ties to his past.

This delimmia of Dan Heng was unbeknownst to Caelus, who found himself wandering into the archives. "What's the matter, Dan Heng?" Caelus asked once he noticed Dan Heng staring for a moment too long at some pens in hand.

"It's of no issue discussing, our time would be better spent on-"

"Wait, if it's troubling you it's obviously important. I want to help, use me as you seem fit." Caelus interjected, touching his large hand on Dan Heng's shoulder.

The intention was not loss on Dan Heng, though he felt no use entertaining him. "Fine," he started as he stood up from his chair at the mainframes desk and moved to a cushion he had laying on the floor near his bed. "Come sit in front of me."

Caelus was rather nervous, he didn't think his flirtatious advance would ever be taken seriously from Dan Heng. Doing as he said, he sat across from him, bending his knees out in front of himself as he rested his arms on his knees.

Dan Heng uncapped a pen and leaned forward, noses almost touching as he tried to swatch the red liner to Caelus's face. Caelus jerked back, unsure of what Dan Heng was doing. "Hold still," Dan Heng scolded as he grabbed his jaw lightly.

"I'm trying, I'm not used to someone trying to put makeup on me." Caelus retorted, his eye twitching and face jerking every time Dan Heng goes near it.

"This isn't working," Dan Heng said as Caelus agreed. He sighed, thinking for a bit before he came to a solution. "Don't move." He instructed Caelus. He carefully moved his feet on either side of Caelus, touching the floor behind him. His legs were draped over Caelus's thighs.

A small blush formed upon Caelus's cheeks as a his stomach did somersaults. Being close to Dan Heng wasn't uncommon for him, but Dan Heng was the one initiating the closeness, and Caelus wasn't used to that. Almost as if reading his thoughts, Dan Heng scooted closer into Caelus. Caelus was sure each breath they took their chests were touching, sure that Dan Heng could hear his heart beating out of his chest. If he could, he wasn't commenting on it.

Dan Heng got as close as possible, placing his thumb on Caelus's cheek and pulling it taut while he tried to compare the eyeliner shades. The men had two different undertones in their skins, using Caelus was a template wouldn't help Dan Heng anymore than using an art canvas, but the means to use Caelus as a model for the new eyeliner was never what Dan Heng had in mind.

give kudos and comment on ao3

#honkai star rail #honkai impact #dan heng #caelus #trailblazer #male trailblazer #dan heng x caelus #dan heng x male trailblazer #honkai star rail fanfic #my drabbles

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ladytauria · 4 months

Text

Fandom: Batman

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Rating: Mature

Words: 2k

Confined in a small space, with no way to get out, would be bad enough... but on top of that, Jason's got to piss, too. Lucky for him, his boyfriend doesn't mind.

i’ve been wanting to try writing some new kinks / scenarios so the other day i took a break from my big fic to write this <3

it didn’t quite scratch the itch i wanted it to but! it was interesting / diff to write. i hope you enjoy!

>> AO3 <<

Jason swears under his breath. His bladder aches. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, but it does nothing to relieve the pressure.

Fuck. He’s had to go since before Tim and he got nabbed, and now? The urge is almost unbearable, and there's nothing he can do about it. He’s stuck, trapped with Tim, in stupid fucking box too small to even turn around in.

At least the pain of it distracts him from the panic.

Rescue is coming, he tells himself. Any minute now, the others could come busting the door down—or the criminals could come back, give them the opportunity to escape.

“Are you hurt?” Tim’s voice is low and concerned. His hands travel over Jason’s torso, performing an injury check as best as he can through the armor.

Jason doesn’t even think about lying, no matter how embarrassed he is. He shakes his head. “N-no, just… I— I gotta piss.” He starts out whispering, but by the end… he might as well not be speaking at all, for how quiet he is.

“Oh.” The simple surprise in Tim’s voice makes heat crawl up the back of Jason’s neck. He squirms.

Tim tucks a strand of hair behind Jason’s ear. When he speaks again, his voice is full of warmth. “It’s okay. You can… It’s just us. You can go, if you need to. I won’t think less of you.”

Jason’s blush climbs to his face. It burns so hot, so brightly he’s almost surprised it doesn’t light up the dark around them.

“I… Tim.”

Tim doesn’t scold him about names. He cradles Jason’s cheek in his palm. His glove is gone; bare, callused skin cool against Jason’s heated face. The relief of it—the comfort of it…

Jason exhales slowly, leaning into it.

“I know, I know.” Tim’s thumb moves in slow, sweeping strokes over Jason’s cheek. “Will… Will you give me a color, baby?”

Jason’s breath catches. There was a time when he would have said ‘green’ immediately, but now… He takes a moment to check in with his body, his thoughts, his emotions.

When they’d started to get more kinky, more serious— Tim had printed off a list for them to go through, separately and then together. Watersports… Jason had ultimately given it a maybe. They hadn’t spent a lot of time discussing it beyond Tim promising not to spring it on him unexpectedly.

This…

Well. This is about as unexpected as it gets, but Jason’s not going to blame Tim for it. No— He… he appreciates the offer. The ability to turn the decision, the control over to Tim…

It relaxes something in him.

“...green, sir,” he whispers.

#jaytim #timjay #batcest #omorashi #tauriawritesfanfic #tauriawritessmut #i posted this several hours ago but i had to wait for the embarrassment to face before sharing here <3 #anyway this was interesting bc it isn’t a MAJOR kink for me and when it does come up i’m very picky about it #so this was me kind of… trying to capture what i like about it #i don’t think i quite succeeded but idk if that’s bc i missed or i’m not in the mood for it 😂#*anyway*#hushing now

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brofisting · 1 year

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Brief thoughts on AI writing/art data-scraping and subsequent content production, & the conclusion I've come to.

Thought #1: There has been a lot of discussion about how AI is or is not art theft (or writing theft); from my understanding every model works slightly differently. What isn't up for debate, though, is that all AI models require data to function, and that data has to come from somewhere. The companies developing AI have a strong incentive to get data by any means possible; the internet is the easiest place to start, but there's no way to get permission from every single person who has ever put something on the internet for the use of that thing to develop the AI, even if every single person were inclined to give it.

Conclusion #1: Doesn't matter if the AI's output is a copyright violation; instead, it was a violation of copyright to feed that data to the AI in the first place, making the AI itself inherently legally problematic.

("BRIEF" DO NOT @ ME OKAY. SEE BELOW FOR THE REST OF MY BIG ASS ESSAY. I WILL REBLOG WITH THE SHORTEST TL;DR I CAN MANAGE.)

Thoughts #2&3: Due to how easy it is to scrape data online, and the way technology is currently progressing (silicon valley motto of Never Ask "Should" I Do It, Just "Can" I Do It), there is almost no way to prevent these AI from being developed with stolen data, and there's enough out there to make these very, very good. They've gotten immeasurably better in just the past few years. Also, preventing them from scraping one thing (ie archive-locking fic) is probably not going to do anything about the problem as a whole, even if it stops that one thing from getting used (and if it even does prevent that thing from being used; I am not sure there's not ways to get around that kind of obstacle).

Conclusions #2&3: Can't stop the technology from developing, and trying to prevent your data from being accessed through technological barriers is at best small potatoes and at worst futile.

Thought #4: What is the incentive for people to do this? Money. These AI are being developed in hopes that they can be used to do things humans can currently do, for cheaper, so they can sell them to companies who will then use them to replace human labor. Will it produce results as good as human labor? No. Will that matter? Not enough, and not in all circumstances.

Conclusion #4: How to prevent this from happening in a way that loses people jobs (or loses the least jobs, or at least protects creative work, or does the whole thing slowly enough to save your job and my job)? Make it so companies cannot legally make money by using the output of these AIs.

WHICH... takes us back to Conclusion #1 -- due to the copyright violation inherent in these programs, it is important to make sure the output can't be copyrighted. Which, at the moment, legal precedent says it can't be. But that's something that companies which stand to make money off AI-generated work are going to try to change.

THEREFORE... we gotta fight those fuckers every step of the way to make sure that AI generated work can't be copyrighted. Which, IMO, means:

educating people about how these models are developed using data theft

make the connection between AI development and potential harms clear (both things like face recognition tech and hurting creatives by replacing them in jobs)

encourage people to fight legally instead of technologically; ie instead of archive-locking work on AO3, continue to throw a fit at the AI company, file legal copyright complaints, etc (any useful suggestions here would be great!)

And then, bonus, if your company is considering using this kind of technology to replace artists or writers, throw a giant fucking shit-fit. Bring up possible legal ramifications. Bring up possible public backlash ramifications. Bring up ramifications of you personally quitting and being a huge bitch about it the whole time. Whatever you can safely do!

I don't think we can prevent AIs, nor do I necessarily think they're inherently evil; I DO think they are being made by people who do not care if they are being used or made in an evil way or not. I'm not sure we can prevent their usage to replace creative jobs entirely, but I think we should try. And I am willing to put my money where my mouth is on that. Which is all I can say about it!

NOTE: I am not a technical expert or legal expert on AI; I am some guy online, but I have a vested interest in this both as someone who pays to have art made and who makes art themselves. I have recently done a fair amount of research into this, and this is what I came to personally. If you have more information from a legal or technical perspective that contradicts this, I'd love to hear it!

#ai #ai art #ai art generator #ai content #content generation #copyright

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fandomregression · 8 months

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Can you do headcanons for little Martin Blackwood?

Age Regressor Martin Blackwood Headcanons!

martin is Baby

he is Tiney

such a tiny baby and everyone loves him

martin learns that he regresses when hes still a teenager, but he keeps that secret all the way to his time in the archives. he knows when hes about to slip, and he finds a way to excuse himself and go be alone

he hates being alone, and he wants someone to take care of him, but he can't dare ask someone to do that. it just isn't fair! martin's always the one to take care of others, so they shouldn't have to worry about him!! but he needs the love and affection so badly...

sasha and tim already take care of jon, so it doesn't take them very long to figure out Something Tiney is happening with martin. he chews constantly, be it pens or his fingers or his shirt collar, doesn't matter. he goes quiet for long stretches of time. he gets this far away look in his eyes, and this sweet look about him when he does, but he always snaps out of it and looks surprised when he does

sasha and tim start experimenting, just to see if their suspicions are correct. they'll get his tea for him, they'll give him praise on his notes, they'll play disney songs on the stereo, and a few times tim even got him some stickers just to see what he'd do

(martin covered his desk in stickers)

after a while, sasha and tim are positive that they've got another regressor on their hands. they ask him about it, and at first martin denies it like crazy. but he does give in and explain yes, he regresses, but they super don't need to worry about him!! hes okay on his own!!!

they invite him over to hang out one evening (after explaining to jon, who is now a bit pouty and grumpy that his cgs are gonna make him share. the horror) and the four of them have dinner, hang out and watch tv, until martin gets sleepy

the thing with martin is when he gets sleepy, he starts feeling tiny. so he gets shy, and he tries to make himself as small as possible in the corner of the sofa. sasha notices, and she coaxes him out of the corner for cuddles. this squarely lands him in the 'fully regressed' category, and martin ends up with his thumb in his mouth, rubbing his eyes, and sleepily watching cartoons

it takes several times for martin to start really getting comfy with the idea of regressing with others, but once hes comfy he becomes the most spoiled baby

martin already has toys and things that he likes, like a taggy blankie, a crinkle book, a rattle, and a rubber chewy giraffe. he also has a stuffed highland cow named brownie who he HAS to have in order to sleep (brownie goes everywhere with him!!) and he has a plain cream colored paci

with tim and sasha, martin learns all the cutest things that make him feel even littler than anything he could do alone. tim holds his hand up and down stairs, across the street, or in stores so he doesnt get lost (he does this with jon too). sasha plays games like patty cake and peekaboo, and she reads lots of stories with him

martin is a fussy eater when hes small. when hes big, he'll eat just about anything, and he'll try anything once if it smells nice. but when hes small, food can be overwhelming, so he really likes simple things. lots of buttered noodles, plain chicken nuggets, and apple sauce pouches. apple sauce pouches are a life saver, really, he loves them so much

he also really likes getting bottles, and he likes when one of his cgs gives him his bottle. it makes him feel positively tiny, and it makes him feel very very safe and loved (esp warm vanilla milk!)

since he tends to lose his words, martin knows some baby sign language. it helps make sure his needs are being met, and the praise his cgs give him for asking for things makes him so happy

he doesnt like loud noises, so storms and things scare him very badly. he'll hide under covers until tim comes to rescue him

tim is dada, and sasha is mama (of course)

when hes big enough, martin likes to help them however he can. he'll dust the furniture, sweep the floors, or mix batter for baking to feel helpful. sasha and tim will praise him for a job well done, and he gets rewards like milkshakes or a new toy

loves loves loves warm baths. he loves bath bombs more than bubbles, especially pretty glittery ones with swirly colors. he has bath crayons and duckies and a little boat, and bath time is just so relaxing for him

charlie and lola >>>>>

he doesnt like high energy shows or movies, he likes nice and calm cartoons

i feel like he collects sylvanian families. and he has a playhouse for them. he takes such good care of them and has never lost a piece for any of them

this boy has an Aesthetic, and if he could ever figure out how to make sure he could surround himself in only his aesthetic, he would be the happiest baby on the planet

i've been reading lotsa lil martin recently so hes on my mIND thank u for this ask sgksgmafjagn hope u enjoy 🤲

#fandom agere #age regression #sfw agere #🧸headcanons #tma agere #agere martin

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whitexwolfxx310 · 1 year

Text

Sharing A Bed With The Big Bad (White) Wolf

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Bucky has a nightmare and you comfort him. After spending the night together, the morning gets steamy.

Warnings: 18+ for this post, praise kink, Y/N, cursing, sexual content, fluff, angst.

Word Count: 3558

Gif: Gif credit goes to fockers-archive

Previous Part

Masterlist

To air on the side of caution, both Tony and James agreed it would be best to stay at The Compound for a few weeks. You really didn't mind all that much, because it meant that you were right next door to your boyfriend. Who is also your patient. Whoops.

In typical old fashioned Bucky, everything has been going low and slow. It's nice for once to have a man court you, take his time with you, show that he's invested in both you and the relationship. And while you can appreciate the sentiment, the burning desire to be with him in everyway possible is getting harder by the day. Trying to respect him and his boundaries, you have been slowly implying that it's what you want. But he hasn't gotten the hint. Or has he and he's just rejecting you?

Laying alone and awake in bed, you stare up at the ceiling. It's difficult to think that in the apartment next door, there lays Bucky on the cold floor all alone while he could be cuddled up next to you. Just the thought of his arms wrapped around your body, your head laying on his bare chest, and the freedom to do whatever you wanted. You groan, rolling over onto your stomach into the pillow in frustration. Suddenly, a light chime within your room grabs your attention.

You immediately sit up. "Friday?" You ask anxiously, hoping this doesn't have something to do with the possible breach from a few weeks before.

"Sorry to disturb you so late, Y/N. Sargent Barnes seems to be in distress." Replies FRIDAY.

Before even putting the thought fully together, you're already dashing into the closet, stumbling to put on a pair of oversized fluffy kitty slippers. Rushing out of your apartment, you quickly are next door to his place. Not even pausing as you step up to the door you hear FRIDAY say "Access granted." and immediately lets you in.

"Bucky...?" You ask, peaking in the door. All of the lights are off and the stillness of his home feels deafening. The only thing you can hear now is the whooshing of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears. "Bucky?" You ask again, a little bit louder this time taking a few more steps in. There's a part inside of you that is torn. The angel on your shoulder says to go to him. Be with him, help him. The devil on your other shoulder is pushing terror into your veins. Fight or flight is instantly activated.

It doesn't matter. He's worth it. No matter what you're about to walk into. Even if he is in Winter Soldier mode, Bucky is worth the risk. He's worth it all, even your life.

Trying to swallow down the ball of anxiety that is made it's new home in your throat, you proceed into the living room. Looking around, again there is nothing out of the ordinary. Although you have a small heart attack when Alpine brushes up against your bare ankles, purring ever so softly. It gives you a sense of relief for a split second before the fear creeps back in. Taking in a long, deep breath to collect yourself, you hear a small whine that snaps your attention to the bedroom.

The door is closed, but you press your ear up against the door. You can hear muffled words and moans of agony.

"Bucky!" You call knocking on the bedroom door, yet there is still no answer. Fuck it. You open the door to find him struggling within his blanket on the floor. It's as if he is being tortured by some unseen force as he continues to beg and plead for it to stop.

"No... Please! Stop!" He cries out.

Rushing to his side, you kneel down on the floor. "Bucky..." You say, trying to get him to wake up. Your hand shakes as you gently place two fingers on his temple, continuously brushing them down. "Shh..." You murmur into his ear. "It's okay. Bucky it's alright." You repeat, trying to calm him down.

But in the blink of an eye your met with a tight, icy grasp on your wrist. It's getting tighter to the point of tears welding up behind your eyes. "Bucky..." You say again, doing everything within your power to remain calm. "Bucky!" It comes out more frantic this time.

His eyes instantly open, focusing on your face. Immediately, the bitter metal grip is released from your wrist. Bucky looks horrified as he backs himself further away. The skin on his entire body glistening with sweat.

"It's okay..." You try to soothe, but he's already shaking his head.

"No! It's not!" He yells. His gaze moves down to your wrist and then down to the floor in shame. "Did I hurt you?" He asks, humiliated.

Inching cautiously closer to him, you shake your head 'no'. "I'm okay. We're safe." You respond, trying to comfort him. Reaching out to help calm him, he flinches away.

"Please. Don't..." Bucky's head is hung low. If there was ever a picture definition on what giving up on yourself looked like, this was it.

"You won't hurt me." You say, staying in place and keeping a calm tone. Bucky scoffs.

"Oh no?" He says sarcastically, referencing the exact situation that just happened moments ago.

"No." You don't know if you were trying to convince him or yourself, but either way it worked in both favors.

Giving him a moment to collect himself, you wait until he is no longer panting or shaking. Deciding to take the risk, you carefully move to curl up in his lap. Bucky's back is against the wall, his entire body stiffens at your touch.

"It's okay..." You say again. Allowing him to take his time, you finally feel him breathe again. Your head rests on his shoulder, your body making contact with his in hopes that it releases endorphins to bring him back down to this current reality and not his horrible past.

It could have been minutes, or even hours, that the two of you sat together in silence. You were certain he had fallen back asleep when you shifted your body slightly and were met by two arms clasping around you.

"Please..." He breathes. "Don't go." He whispers.

"I wasn't planning on it." You murmur in response. Holding onto Bucky's metal hand to show that you are unafraid, you stand up and slightly tug encouraging him to do the same. He reluctantly gets up as well. Taking two small steps back you effortlessly sit on the untouched king sized bed, gently pulling him down as well.

"You need to rest." Your tone comes out as nurturing and he's receptive. His eyes shift back and forth between yours, trying to read what you're implying. "I wont leave." You promise. Slowly, you scooch back towards the head of the bed, Bucky following your lead. You both slip under the covers and immediately press your body into his. His entire frame goes rigid from your touch.

"Shh..." You whisper into his ear and he visibly starts to relax. But only a little. Your bodies intertwine as if they were made to be fitted together. Spooning into his left side, you left leg softly drapes over his thigh and your arm across his midsection. The defined difference between his body heat and the cool metal wrapped around you was the perfect combination.

Not saying another word, your pointer finger only just touches the skin of his chest, circling in long, slow motions. Bucky's breathing becomes more even and soon turns into deep breaths. He's asleep.

You have spent many nights dreaming about the first time you would be in bed together. It usually started with an infamous dinner cooked by Bucky, slow dancing to a song on the record player followed by the most intimate way to show someone you care about them. Sex can be, well, just sex. But with the right person, being completely open and vulnerable to them, feels like you found your missing piece within them. That desire, that longing, that connection. You have been craving that and more with Bucky.

Yet, life has a funny means of handing us the things we want in a way that we would least expect. Technically you got what you wanted. This is the closest physical contact you have had with each other over the past 5 months. The most sinfully close. While you’re here for Bucky, comforting him, being his safe space; it’s hard to ignore the scorching, aching patches of the skin to skin contact. The timing is inappropriate to act on anything, but you allow your thoughts to succumb to the intimate fantasies. Holding onto one another, keeping each other safe from everything, including the demons in your own minds, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning, you start to wake. Your eyelids still feel heavy as you take a deep breath and start to stretch, but you're restricted. Confused, your eyes open and focus on Bucky who is just staring at you. Not the usual grumpy old man that got dragged out of the house when he wanted to stay home in his recliner, stare. He was laying on his left side, propped up on his hip and metal arm. Bucky smiles warmly once your eyes meet his. "Morning, Sunshine." He says softly, leaning forward and pressing a small kiss on your forehead.

"Good....Morning." You reply, still slightly stuck in the transition from dreams to reality. "What time is it?" You ask, looking around the room for any indication of the time.

"Seven thirty." Bucky responds in the same soft tone.

"Why are we up so early?" You groan.

He laughs. "Early? I've been up for hours."

"Hours?" You repeat. "What have you been doing this whole time?" You ask curiously, since it does not seem as though he had left the bed and there was no breakfast aroma in the air.

"Watching you." Watching me?

"What, was I like, snoring or something?" It comes out sounding like a joke but in actuality you were afraid of the possibility of doing something embarrassing in your sleep.

Bucky lets out a small laugh. "Not at all. You didn't move once. Even after an eventful night."

"How are you feeling about that by the way?" The question gets blurted out. You didn't mean to bring it up first thing, but it's definitely something you felt should be discussed at some point. And I guess that’s now.

He takes in a deep breath. "When I feel like things are going well, the nightmares come back, and worse. I just see so many faces... and they're so scared. Scared of me."

"But that wasn't you. This..." Your hand smoothly rubs up and down his chest. "This is the real you."

"Last night was the first time I didn't sleep alone or with a room full of agents watching me like some zoo animal in...God, I don't even know how long." Bucky's attention becomes spaced out, no doubt reliving old memories that still haunt him almost every second of the day.

"Is it okay?" You refer, about spending the night over at his place. Kinda late for that question. But it brings his focus back to you.

"Yes. I appreciate it more than you know." He plants another small, soft kiss on your forehead. His warm right hand rubs sensually up and down your left arm. Your body reacts to his touch, leaning more closely into him. There is barely any articles of clothing keeping your bodies apart. For Bucky, just a pair of light gray sweatpants that compliment his olive skin tone. For yourself, an all black silk satin night set. You nuzzle your forehead into his cheek lightly, just aching to have more contact.

Bucky reciprocates and you can feel the small amount of stubble on his face rub onto your skin. Every part of you is aching with desire to be with him. To feel him, to touch every part of his body and him do the same to you.

Taking the risk, you reach up and kiss him gently. This time, the tip of your tongue grazes his lips. He pulls back slightly at the boldness you just exposed. Aside from hand holding and small kisses, it's never really gotten pushed further than that.

"I'm sorry..." You say, pulling back a bit as well. Bucky's confused look quickly turns into an adoring gaze as his right hand moves behind your ear and into your hair.

"Don't be." He whispers as he carefully brings your face back to his, returning the desired kiss. This time he's eager to continue, his tongue briefly flicking into your mouth, the tips of your tongues briefly touching. Bucky's hand gradually moves down from your hair to your waist, squeezing gently at your hip bone. A tiny moan slips out from your mouth the more his hand starts to explore your body.

"Is this...okay?" You breathe out between the heated make out session.

Bucky stops, his face still close to yours as he looks deep into your eyes. "As long as it's okay with you. I have to admit it's been a while." He says embarrassingly.

"Same here." You confess.

"No. I mean like it's been a while." He says, becoming shy.

Barely being able to contain yourself for any longer, your lips mash back up into his. The longing for each other expressed in the deep, sensual kissing. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you lightly push it back to get him to lay down flat onto the bed. A moment later your straddled on his lap, grinding your pelvis down into his. Bucky lets out a deep breath as a tiny moan escapes from his mouth. The sound that comes from low within his throat makes you feel as though your absolutely feral and could rip both of your clothes off in an instant.

Pressing your body down into his, touching chest to chest, your loose curly hair pushed to one side and draping over you both like a sheet. Becoming restless, Bucky's body is pushing up against yours. His hands tenderly start to caress your thighs, giving a light squeeze to make sure that they're full of you as if he cannot hold onto you enough. They then progress to your lower back, slipping up behind your satin tank top. Without breaking the kiss, Bucky sits up, still supporting your back and keeping you straddled in his lap. With his hands underneath your shirt, they move to your abdomen, slowly moving upward, the back of his hands pulling up the tank top with them.

Pulling away for just a moment, he slips the lace trimmed tank top over your arms and head, throwing it onto the floor. His lips instantly press back onto your body, placing delicate kisses along your collar bone, and down your sternum. Without even realizing, your head tilts back slightly, enjoying the pure bliss of his touch. Your hands make their way up from his muscular back and into Bucky's hair, caressing his head gingerly.

His neck extends upward so that his lips can meet yours once more. Placing his hands on your back once again, he holds you as he quickly rolls over so that his body is now hovering over yours. Instinctively, your hips press up into his. A heavy breath escapes from his mouth and he pulls away. Tenderly, Bucky's hands slide down your sides, hooking each pointer finger into the elastic band of your satin shorts. He sits back on his knees, taking the shorts with the movement before he tosses them onto the floor.

Your legs instantly close in slight embarrassment of being exposed for the first time. Shaking his head slightly, he leans back down, wrapping his arms around your bended legs, his hands gripping the front of your thighs.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N. I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you."

Bucky's chin rests daintily on your knees, giving you an affectionate smile as he rubs your thighs. But he doesn't push any further, allowing you to give him consent to keep going. Taking a deep breath, you nod your head yes nervously. "I trust you." It's not a phrase he's used to hearing, at all. No one, except Steve (and even then it took a while to build again) had any kind of faith in him.

The wording ignites a small fire within him as he kisses each of your knees, using his hands still wrapped around your thighs to gently spread them open.

Not baring to look, your body tenses in vulnerability as you gaze up at the ceiling. His tongue presses to your core before he slowly drags it up and then back down in a slight teasing gesture. Your legs instantly shiver at the wet warmth, a small moan slipping from your mouth.

"Mmm..." Bucky hums, with his mouth still suctioned around your opening, his tongue smoothly continuing to rub in small circles around your clit. The blend between the vibration of his voice with the amazing stimulation has your body response is to arch your back. He pulls his mouth away for a moment, using his warm right pointer and middle fingers to slide up and around your folds for natural lubrication before sliding it inside of you, rhythmically gliding them in and out.

This time your moan wasn't suppressed, at all. Bucky looks up with hooded eyes from between your legs, a huge grin on his face.

"Good girl." He murmurs, and with those words your core quickly tightens. Becoming restless, your hips start grinding against his fingers and creating more friction. Bucky takes this as a sign that you're close to a climax, so he once again presses his tongue securely to your clit, licking it up, down, in and out around the surface.

Your left hand immediately grabs down into the bedsheets while the other securely grasps Bucky's hair, but he doesn't stop. Continuing the same pace, the perfect blend of his tongue and fingers pumping inside of you inches you painfully, but pleasurably, closer to the edge.

"Look at you..." He breathes in-between sensually sucking at the aching, swollen, throbbing tip of your core. "So beautiful."

And you come undone. Your hand grips into his hair tighter, pulling him in closer as your body convulses with orgasm. The moans grow louder and more relentless. And he doesn't stop. "Bucky..." You breathe heavily, becoming extremely sensitive and panting. Pulling away with leaving gentle, yet hungry kisses along your inner thigh as he sits back on his knees. His lips glistening with your wetness and a mischievous grin. He pulls his two fingers out from inside you, bringing them to his mouth and sucks your juice off of them while keeping deep eye contact with you.

"You taste so good, Sunshine." How is this man so unbelievably seductive and sensual at the same time?

Pulling down the waist band of his own sweatpants, he exposes his large erection, the tip already red with a glimmer of pre-cum coming out the top.

"See what you do to me?" Bucky says intimately, kicking off his already half taken down sweatpants onto the floor to join your clothes. He inches forward, still on his knees as he firmly grasps himself, gently putting the head between your already dripping lips, massaging it up and down slowly to get your slick onto him.

Leaning forward to prop himself up into a missionary position, he starts to inch his way inside. Only a little at a time, pulling back out and pushing back in to slowly let you adjust around his size. Once Bucky is finally in the entire way, he leans his forehead against yours.

"Fuck..." He moans, both of your eyes rolling back. Bucky leans down, his body needing to be as close as possible to yours. Your chest arches up into his, whimpering softly as you feel all of him. Both his hands holding onto you, and you can't help but notice the perfect combination of fire and ice between the two.

Looking into each others eyes, your legs bend upwards slightly to allow him to go deeper. He performs long, slow strokes at first. No doubt taking in the cushioned wet depth. The pace starts to get faster, keeping a steady rhythm making you both moan in unison.

"You feel...so good inside me." You breathe. Your words seem to do to him what his had done to you just moments before. Bucky's breaths becoming more frequent and heavier as does the moaning from both of you. Seeing his reaction, feeling him pumping inside you, makes you cum, yet again, and with him, in pure ecstasy. He slumps down on top of you, both your bodies now shining with a layer of sweat.

A small whine escapes from your lips as he pulls out, laying down on the bed next to you, both breathing heavily. Bucky wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer as the two of you start coming down from your high.

"I think..." You whisper, "That I'm falling for you.”Bucky's fingers interlace with yours, he gently kisses your forehead.

"Yeah...the feeling is mutual."

Next part

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p3ski · 6 months

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Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 4.4K

"I just don't get what its deal is."

Gavin sat slumped on his bar stool, cradling a half-empty glass. Already three drinks in, he was beginning to feel a distinctive buzz clouding his senses. Soon, he would be rewarded with the blissful intoxication that was desperately desired. Taking another sip of whiskey, he relished in the sensation. All tension seemed to melt away as his body became warm and slack.

"Androids are usually so easy to read, but this one just… isn't, you know?"

He had turned to his companion for input but found her attention elsewhere. She was far more engaged in a nearby pool match than she was in their conversation.

"Tina", he snapped his fingers in front of her face, to which she attempted to fan him away.

"Not now, Gav, I have money on this. My bet is on the big one with the lazy eye. What do you think?"

"I was talking to you. That's what I think."

There was a click of resin-on-resin as the man that Tina was betting on was able to sink a perfect shot. She punched the air and let out a small grunt of victory. Gavin was less than enthralled.

" Tina. "

With a sigh, the frustrated officer turned on her stool, facing her friend. "I don't know what else you'd like me to say, Gav. Nines and I aren't BFFs. I hardly know him better than you do."

"But you get what I mean, right?" he pressed on belligerently. "One minute, it's a standoffish jerk, and the next, it's actually decent. It's like it spins a goddamn wheel to decide whether to be a prick or not."

"He's a little guarded. A lot of people are."

"There's guarded, and then there's..." His words trailed off as Gavin stared longingly into his glass, taking another gulp. "Any time it seems to feel anything, it puts itself on instant lockdown. It doesn't matter what I do or how nice I am. There's never any progress."

"Yesterday, you said he was being nice. Sounds like progress to me."

"I didn't say it was being nice. I told you it said 'thank you'."

There was an outbreak of noise from the pool table as Lazy Eye's opponent, a man covered with obscene tattoos, sank an impressive trick shot. Tina watched on in visible displeasure, a pained expression contorting her features.

"I know you have limited experience in this department, but most people consider a 'thank you' as being nice."

"So that's supposed to make it all better, then? One damn thank you after a week of treating me like dirt? What a joke."

"Baby steps", She insisted, clapping him reassuringly on the back, "You've officially reached begrudging tolerance. Keep it up, and you might get upgraded to a friendly acquaintance."

Coiling away from the touch, Gavin bristled. He wasn't yet ready to challenge what he understood Nines to be - and the nature of their relationship. Familiarity and fondness complicated matters. It was far easier to view the android as a hardened metal beast. One to be kept at an arms-length.

His desire to drink grew exponentially as he concluded that he was still far too sober. Sinking another measure of whiskey, he tried to focus his thoughts. "Androids don't make friends, and even if they did, Nines has no interest in being mine."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because it literally told me so", Gavin fired back. "It didn't even want me to call it by its name. Are you seriously going to try and convince me that this buddy-buddy shit isn't a waste of time?"

Tina paused thoughtfully, lips pursed. "Before this week, Nines only knew you by your reputation. That would be enough to scare anyone shitless. He's getting to know you, and he's beginning to realise that you aren't a complete raging asshole."

Gavin frowned back at her, wholly unconvinced "So we've spent a couple of days together, and now the tin-can has changed its mind?"

"It shouldn't come as a surprise. Statistically, someone has to like you."

Leaning forward in his stool, his eyes narrowed in opposition. His body no longer felt pleasantly warm, the room's heat growing tight and constricting around him. He craved the bracing chill of the wind outside. As well as a cigarette. It would have to wait, however, as there were more pressing matters at hand, like numbing all of the cognitive functions of his brain.

"Bullshit", Gavin spat out. As if physically sickened by the suggestion. "Total bullshit. I've already told you. It doesn't like me; it doesn't like anything."

Except for Anderson and Connor, and tidy rooms, and my cat -

Bringing the tumbler to his mouth, he knocked back what was left of his whiskey in a long, unbroken gulp. He let out a gasp, catching his breath, before drying his mouth on the back of his sleeve. His colleague watched on with a despairing look. As if anticipating that the detective's ramblings were only about to increase tenfold. She was soon proven right as the detective settled into a new, more invasive position inches from her face.

"Okay, smartass", his voice was dry and strained, a consequence of the burning liquor. "If it likes me, if it's even capable of that, then why did it go all shades of psycho when I asked if it was really deviant?"

Tina, who had been about to take a swig of her neglected beer, instantly halted her movements. She stared at her friend, utterly appalled, searching for reassurance that he may be joking.

"Don't look at me like that", Gavin complained, unappreciative of the silent judgement. "Just tell me: If it likes me so much, why wouldn't it answer a simple question?"

"Because that's a shitty thing to ask", She said plainly, as if the answer was glaringly obvious. "How would you feel if I asked if you were really a person?"

"Nines is proud of what it is. It's not like I was going to send it spiralling into an identity crisis."

Tina's mouth opened wide, as if ready to relinquish a long tirade, but shut soon after. She seemed unable, or otherwise unwilling, to unpack her coworker's heavy-handed statement, instead opting to take a breather with a long, quiet sip of her beer.

"Not cool, Gav" The words were muted as her lips remained clamped to the rim of her bottle. "The poor guy is trying his best. You need to lay off a bit."

Gavin let out an indignant splutter as his face burned a vibrant red. He swung an arm forward, almost knocking his tumbler flying. "So now I'm the problem?"

"Yeah, you are. I mean, what the Hell, Gav. Why are you so in his business?"

"In it's fuckin' - ?" Another splutter, as he grew increasingly heated, "You were the one who wanted me to bend over and lick its plastic asshole!."

There had been no attempt to contain his volume, and with the sudden clashing of glass accompanying it, the bizarre proclamation had rewarded them with more than a bit of attention. The bar felt deathly silent as the focus of all nearby patrons was pulled to the bickering officers.

The men playing pool had paused their game, exchanging looks of quiet bewilderment. A group of women, who had been sitting drinking in near-perpetual silence, erupted into a sea of gasps. They quickly began to nudge and shush each other, albeit still giggling under their breaths.

The bartender, who had been cleaning glasses, scowled at the detective with weary recognition. It was far from the first time Gavin had caused a ruckus in his bar, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

He signalled to a man at the back of the room, who was reclined next to the jukebox. There was an exchange of looks, and with a wordless nod, the man twisted a dial on the machine's display, to which the volume gradually increased. Silence persisted for a few seconds longer amongst the patrons, but as the well of entertainment dried, the sounds of drunken mingling steadily resumed. Throughout all this, Tina had been sitting with her hands clenched firmly over her face, struggling to suppress a fit of laughter.

"That is definitely not what I told you to do", She wheezed, foam trickling from the corners of her mouth. " Although maybe it wouldn't hurt, break the ice a bit."

Gavin remained deaf to the teasing, barely able to hear anything over the thundering music. "I'm going for a smoke", He announced, kicking back from his stool and away from the bar. "I better have a drink when I get back."

Gavin made his way outside, escaping through the fire exit and bracing himself for the harsh winds about to greet him. The rain that had fallen earlier in the day had begun to freeze over, leaving a fine layer of ice on the ground. Not wanting to take his chances with the steep concrete steps, he sat down, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket and quickly lighting up.

After a long drag, he leant backwards, trying to lose himself in his senses. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his head swelled with the sudden darkness that embraced him. The fleeting serenity failed to last, however, as his vision shifted, and he was greeted with the stern expression of an all-too-familiar android.

Continuing to smoke, Gavin tried in vain to shake away the unwanted image. The features of the android staring at him gradually began to soften. Grey eyes ceased to be sharp, becoming bright and curious. The taut lips pulled upwards, melding into an overwhelming, intoxicating smile.

With opened eyes, he grunted in frustration. Goddammit .

Upon returning to the bar, the lights had been dimmed, and a colourful - albeit underwhelming - strobe effect had taken its place. A sparse couple of people had made their way to the 'dancefloor' - which was really just a narrow strip between the pool table and jukebox. The women marched in forced sequence back and forth while a particularly brave man flung himself like a ragdoll between them.

The tragic display did very little to lift Gavin's spirits. He sauntered back to the bar and slumped himself despondently onto his stool. Tina, who was accustomed to her colleague's propensity for self-indulged moping, silently slid him his liquor. "Ordered you another one. You're welcome."

Gavin said nothing and simply buried his face into his arms, groaning. His friend gave him a hard nudge, to which he responded with a louder, more pronounced groan.

"Still alive?"

"You know, I could deal with the bitchy mood swings.", Gavin clumsily began, ignoring the question entirely. "My brother had more than enough girlfriends when we were growing up, but what I really can't deal with is its face."

"Oh man, are we still talking about -" Tina pinched the bridge of her nose, thoroughly drained. "Alright, I'll bite. What's wrong with his face?"

Gavin pulled himself up before quickly snatching his tumbler and holding it firmly in his hand. "You'd think they'd have time to fix the fuck ups they made with Connor, but no. This one has two expressions: 'waiting to rip someone's throat out' or 'desperate to take a shit',." This was a bald-faced lie, of course - but one that he was keen to maintain.

"I don't know, I think he's pretty cute."

"So what. You're gay."

She scoffed at the bluntness of the statement. "Look, he's not my type, but all that dark hair and muscles? Objectively speaking, he's kind of dreamy."

"I think you need your eyes examined."

Taking another swig of her beer, Tina leaned forward on her stool, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. "Don't lie to me, I know your type. Tall dark with chronic RBF? You'd so hit that. Just admit it."

"If it was a person, " came the staunch defence, as Gavin downed half of his drink without hesitation, "But I'd sooner rip off my left ball sac than sleep with a robot."

"I think you should broaden your horizons a bit…Sex with an android is basically the same as sex with a human. Just a lot less sweat and mess" Tina looked a little giddy, swirling the liquid in her bottle. "Plus, they don't get tired, which is nice."

"How do you know so much about it?"

She made a 'lips sealed gesture' before batting her eyelashes in a display of faux innocence. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Tell me you're joking."

"What happens at the Christmas party stays there, Gav. Having said that, you know the ST300 who works reception?"

"I'm gonna be sick", Gavin cringed, making an exaggerated gagging gesture. "They're built like Barbie dolls . What do you even do with them?"

"Not to ruin the mystery, but plenty of deviants have opted to…upgrade" Tina gave a wink before playfully nudging her friend. "So the good news is, if you do end up banging him, Nines might be packing more than you'd think."

Gavin's face burned at the thought. God help me -

"You know what? Forget I asked," he snapped, covering his ears childishly. "I'm not about to pop a boner the next time I watch The Wizard of Oz . If the Tin-Man does it for you, that's fine, but I'd rather have flesh and blood."

"Pfft, yeah - If any 'flesh and blood' will actually have you , asshole. Seriously, when was the last time you got laid?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, so we're talking months at least."

"You're about to be demoted to my second best friend. After my cat."

"Come on, I'm only teasing. You must have had a rebound after –"

Tina cut herself off, her jovial tone quickly abandoned. She watched how Gavin began to tense up before sinking into himself protectively. While she had known better than to say the name of her friend's former partner, her judgement of the situation had undoubtedly been clouded by the murk of inebriation.

She touched the top of his forearm in a sympathetic gesture. "If it is of any comfort to you, I always thought he looked like a rat."

"He was a rat" Gavin began drinking faster, emptying his glass before anything else could be exchanged. Placing it rim-down on the counter, he drummed his fingers along the base. "You don't know how badly I wanted a rebound. To stick it to that asshole and his damn boy toy: but it feels like the only guys who are into me these days are old pervs or nineteen-year-olds who want a 'daddy'. Either way, I can't win."

"Which is why you should consider an android: Fewer daddy kinks and no creepy age gaps."

"The dynamic is still pretty creepy if you ask me", Gavin challenged, frowning down at his emptied glass. "Less than three months ago, these robotic assholes didn't have autonomy. They've only just become sentient."

"They were always sentient. The way it works is just different now."

"Oh, so now they're different? I'm sorry, I thought we were all the fuckin' same?"

Tina paled, despairing at the direction the conversation was heading. "Don't do this -"

Focus was back on the two, despite all the lights and noises around them. This time, it was from a group of androids who had recently made their way in - and were standing nearby, ordering shots. One of the androids, a WB400, took particular issue with the detective's obscene ramblings. With shoulders squared and eyes narrowed, it looked ready to give Gavin a piece of his mind - and fists - when his friends all piled in to desperately hold him back.

After a hurried exchange of whispers and pleas, the WB400 began to back down, albeit still regarding the offending human with intense hostility. Gavin seemed utterly oblivious to his close brush with death, continuing his rant as if nothing had occurred:

"So pardon me for doubting the emotional authenticity of an Alexa on legs."

"Stop it" Tina pressed a hand harshly to his still-gaping mouth. "This isn't the break room. We're in a public bar . If it gets back to Fowler that you've been saying this shit, we could both be out of a job - and it'll be a cold day in Hell before I go back to retail."

Gavin tried to fight against her grip but found it much stronger than anticipated. Either that or his lax muscles could no longer exert the force required to break free. His head spun from limited oxygen as he floundered about dizzily. As a consequence of his growing delirium, his mind had begun to wander again - without any conscious control or desire.

Before long, he was no longer in the bar and was instead standing in Mikey's Electronics, Nines close beside him. The stubbed finger of the store owner pointed to a 'No Androids' sign as the old man watched from the sidelines, sneering aggressively. Both men were closing in on Nines as their increasingly malicious intentions became clear:

"Why don't you go back to the warehouse and rot?"

As the words were spoken, they failed to sound like either offender. With horrific realisation, he realised that the attack had come from his mouth. He stumbled back, lost in the pained expression spreading across his partner's face.

What the Hell does that make me?

When Gavin had been effectively subdued, the hand on his mouth slowly retracted. His eyes felt weak and unfocused, as if he had just woken up from a dream. The creeping doubts that taunted him had returned to his mind in full force. They twisted his perceptions, making him fall further down a stream of dismay and scepticism.

With just how lost her friend seemed, it was clear that Tina felt remorse for having restrained him so forcefully.

"I understand that this is hard for you," she said softly, trying to soothe him. "But you can't let your personal biases cloud your judgement forever."

"It's not about bias", Gavin said indignantly. "The rest of the country has lost their mind. I'm the only one that can still see sense."

Running a finger along the rim of her bottle, Tina gently chewed her bottom lip, clearly wanting to say something. Her shoulders were hiked and tensed as she eventually mustered up the courage to speak:

"...Your brother called the other day. Through the station line. I don't know if you got the message."

Gavin stared back into his empty glass, despairing even more at the lack of contents. "I have nothing to say to him. Need another drink."

"I know things have never been great between you, but maybe if you gave him a -"

"Shot? Excellent idea" He held up his tumbler, using his free hand to flag the bartender. "Hey buddy: Next one's tequila."

The bartender glared back, saying nothing, and quickly turned his attention to Tina. The word 'Tab' was mouthed slowly and firmly, to which the officer dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

"I'm good for it, I swear."

In an instance of impressively poor timing, a chorus of cheers suddenly erupted from the pool table. The men had concluded their games, and a victor had finally been determined. To her chagrin, the man being jostled and praised wasn't Lazy Eye - who was sat at a nearby table, forlornly nursing his beer.

" Goddammit ", Tina cursed under her breath, composing herself as best she could to shoot the bartender a sheepish grin. "One more round and we'll leave. Promise."

'One more round' quickly divulged into four or five. Both of the officers soon lost count. With the music slowing and the night winding down, they were barely conscious of the time that had passed until a 'last orders' bell rang aggressively in their ears. The bartender, who had already been losing patience with the rowdy police officers, was on his last nerve. A broad man in a wrinkled shirt, presumably security, stood in wait by the exit, hands clasped firmly in front of him. His eyes were honed on them with precision. Ready to strike.

"You know what, I'm gonna text it…" Gavin slurred out, rocking unsteadily to his side as he did so. "Stupid Nines thinks it's so great. I'mma tell it to suck my dick."

"Bold, but not your best pickup line."

"'S not a pickup line. I just wanna knock the bastard down a peg…." Gavin leaned back on his stool, holding his arm out to steady himself. "Ya know what? Even better, I'm gonna text Jack. I mean, I was waaaay out of his league, and he had the audacity to cheat on me ? Gonna give him a piece of my mind. Tell him his balls were weird."

"Oh no, you don't", Tina blurted out, snatching the device from his limp hands. "No drunk texting. I'm confiscating your phone."

"Come on, Ti", he whined, "Give it back."

"I don't want to hear it, Mr Reed", She puffed out her chest, doing her best 'haughty principal' impression. "You can pick it up after class."

Another whine of protest, "Tiiinaaaa."

Gavin leaned forward, trying to retrieve his phone, but fell victim to his lack of balance - face-planting on the counter. With a groan, he slid off his stool, collapsing onto the floor in a crumpled heap.

A pair of women, who had been making their way to exit, leapt back just in time to avoid him. One of the women, clearly very inebriated, began poking at the man's body with the tip of her high-heeled shoe.

"Is he okay?" she asked slowly, her hazy eyes alight with worry.

Tina stared down at her companion, snorting. "Yeah, he's fine. Had worse falls than that, haven't ya buddy?"

As if on cue, Gavin roused from his position and stumbled back onto his feet. He propped his elbows on the bar, resting his face in his hands. However, he did so with a distinct lack of skill or grace, as his head quickly tilted forward and his chin clipped the counter's edge.

"Hey, bartender. Same again, please" he made a strange noise halfway through. Something between a grunt and a belch.

The doorman was closing in fast, and Tina hurriedly shot to her feet. She swung an arm around her drunk coworker to carefully steady him. "I think it's time we get you home. Any more, and you'll be puking 'til Monday."

"Fuck off, you're not my mom" Despite the weak protest, Gavin settled himself against the woman's shoulder, allowing himself to be guided outside.

Before he could process anything else, he was slung into the back of an automatic taxi, and the door was shut firmly behind him. The ride home was nothing short of bliss, as Gavin's resistance quickly deserted him, and he began to shut down. Slipping in and out of consciousness, he pressed himself into the rigid polyester of the seat supporting him. He was far too gone to think of anything, and he relished the peace that fell over his absent mind.

This peace was disturbed, however, as he was rudely awakened by someone (presumably Tina) attempting to hoist him out of the car. She struggled for a while against his dead weight before letting out a breathless plea:

"Come on, sleeping beauty. I'm going to need your help here."

With some persuasion, including the promise of a nice warm bed, Gavin clumsily lifted himself, relieving some of his weight. As they made their way into the apartment, Tina was forced to do a quick sidestep to avoid Tiffany, who was now awake and hissing territorially from the floor.

"Good guard cat, good… " Gavin mumbled before his head lolled back again, narrowly missing the edge of the doorframe.

"For fucks sake", Tina huffed out, struggling to pull him back forward. "I am never taking you out again. Do you hear me?"

By no small feat of determination, she was able to guide her friend the rest of the way to his bedroom - before settling him down on the covers. Gavin hummed contently, spreading himself out, seemingly unfazed by the fact he was still fully clothed.

"You gonna read me a bedtime story?" he mocked, cracking one eye open but quickly regretting it as the room began to rock and spin.

"You're lucky I'm not reading your rights. After the shit you've put me through tonight," There was a shuffling noise as Gavin's possessions were set on the bedside table. "Sleep up, and let's hope you are sober enough to make it to work on Monday."

With a listless wave of his arm, Tina was ushered out of his room, to which she happily complied. The light was switched off, and the door to his bedroom was gently closed. Another hiss from a perturbed Tiffany signalled the exit of his friend as she made her way out of his apartment.

Before losing consciousness again, he somehow found the awareness to put his phone on charge. Unable to resist temptation, clumsy fingers worked overtime to unlock his screen and quickly found themselves scrolling through the list of contacts:

"Actually Decent, Drunk Old Bastard, Top-Knot Asshole…" Gavin tried to decipher the identities behind the list of cryptic names, but his brain was failing to translate, "...There you are" . He grinned in satisfaction before clumsily beginning to type out a message:

i didnt stand up for you to be nice. did it cus that old fucker was pissing me off. so before u start telling me im a good person, just remember that u dont know shit about me. i still think youre a smug prick, and i cant fucking stand u -

He paused for a moment, staring at the screen, pondering on what other musings were left to be added.

- having said that. u have a nice smile. and a nice ass. so i guess u have some endearing qualities too. dickhead.

Exhaustion eventually won out as Gavin slipped back into his self-induced coma. Dribble soaked his pillow as he loudly snored. Having never made it under the covers, he kept warm from his unshed clothes and the alcohol seeping through his veins. His phone dangled precariously from his hand before falling onto the floor. The screen was still on, illuminating the room, with the message to Nines clearly displayed.

#dbh #dbh gavin #dbh nines #reed900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh rk900 #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin900 #g9 #gavin x rk900 #dbh gavin reed

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diamaker-moon · 1 year

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in a cage behind

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A/N: I recommend listening to "the silent screams by anna blue" while reading :)

in a cage behind

one shot

—————

With every passing day, she could only feel the growing exhaustion in her body. That despite doing things that normally make her relaxed, it agitates her even more. The boundless expectations on her shoulders, the responsibilities she must bare, and the endless hope given to her are all weighing her down into a lifeless puppet, a marionette.

The recent confrontation with the Order still covers her mind. Their threats to eradicate her existence as Ladybug hung in the air. She knew that she wasn't worthy to be the guardian, but she had hoped that at least her seemingly endless sacrifices for the lives of others could suffice as her worthiness for the Ladybug Miraculous. It doesn't.

"I'm caught up in your expectations You're trying to make me live your dream But I'm causing you so much frustration And you only want the best for me"

Life in school wasn't any different.

Every day is a challenge for her. Avoiding her classmates' abuse, Rossi's lies and defamation, Bustier's expectations and demands and Adrien's passiveness in the situation. Everything was surrounding her.

"Mari—"

"Don't. Don't you dare call me something you're not entitled to."

He rolled his eyes. "C'mon Mari, your overreacting. They're just teasing, no one's getting hurt—"

"I am! I am getting hurt, Agreste! Do you think no one's getting hurt?! Well, I guess I'm no one because I'm getting hurt! And I don't need you to remind me over and over again that I'm alone in this mess, because of you!"

"You wanted me to show more interest To always keep a big bright smile Be that pinky little perfect princess But I'm not that type of child"

Hidden inside the small space of an abandoned house, she looked outside the window to the dark and silent night of Paris.

A memory flashes through her mind.

"Maman! This! This!"

A short Asian woman heartily laughed at her young toddler's antics. And a huge bearded man taking pictures from behind them.

"Yes, Mon chérie?"

Young Marinette twirled around while wearing the flower crown she had found in a stall.

"Is it pretty?" She asks.

"Yes, chérie. It is very pretty."

Due to her mother's words, young Marinette smiled so brightly under the gazes of her loving parents. Looking so ethereal with the lights shining behind her.

"And this storm is rising inside of me Don't you feel that our whole worlds collide? It's getting harder to breathe It hurts deep inside"

"It hurts, Tikki. It hurts so much..."

She wanted to cry. To let her heart out. But, she can't.

The moment she let go of everything inside her will mean that she failed. That she let everything around her get the best of her. The pain of suppressing these loud and painful emotions is eating her inside.

No matter what happens, she silently swallows all of it and put it in the back, locked away from her. She cannot break.

Ladybug can't break. Marinette can't break.

"Just let me be Who I am It's what you really need to understand And I hope so hard for the pain to go away"

"C'mon Ladybug! This is our fate! We were meant to save the city, and you can't change that!"

"It's not mine!"

Chat Noir was taken aback. Ladybug rarely shouts at him or at anyone. So to hear her voice raise jolted him.

"I never wanted all of this! I wanted to live, a simple life where I'm happy, and my family's happy! This isn't me, this isn't mine, and if you think this is my fate, it's not. I will beg everyone that it isn't."

Ladybug stepped away from him motioning to leave after the argument. But before she swing away, she looked over her shoulder and spoke to him.

"Because if this is my fate, then how cruel of the world to give it to me..."

"And it's torturing me But I can't break free So I cry and cry but just won't get it out The silent scream"

Staring at the mirror, she can't recognize herself anymore.

The darkened bags beneath her eyes, the dull bluebell eyes, and the black earrings on her ears.

Fate. She laughed when she thought about this world. How could fate be cruel to her, to shove the world's problem at her hands. How could fate burden her so much?

Looking at the black earrings and then moving to the closed sewing box where a box of powerful artifacts hides underneath, she smiled pitifully. Yeah, how cruel of fate to let her carry everything.

"Tell me why you're putting pressure on me And everyday you 'cause me harm That's the reason why I feel so lonely Even though you hold me in your arms"

"Marinette, I know that you are having a small squabble with your classmates, but do you really want to just give up on your friendships?" Bustier asks silently.

"But Madam! They're—"

"Think about what the Marinettes of the world would do, I think they would put everything aside and help her friends."

Marinette stares at her homeroom teacher. She could literally see the rose-painted windows in her eyes. She could see that no matter what the problem is, Caline Bustier only sees the good in it, even the good in the bad.

Reaching this conclusion as she stares at her teacher, her fists slowly curl into a ball, gaze hardening, and heart closing.

"Good day, Mdm Bustier."

She turned her back and left, not sparing at her teacher's gobsmacked expression on her face. Marinette looks ahead, with cold and unwavering eyes.

"Wanna put me in a box of glitter But I'm just trying to get right out And now you're feeling so so bitter Because I've let you down"

No.

No. It can't be!

She... She failed...

How could a guardian lose every single miraculous to her worst enemy? Why did she trust Félix?! Why?!

"I-I'm sorry... I'm so sorry Tikki..."

"It's okay, Marinette. It's not your fault."

'But, it is mine.' She thought ruefully with a bitter smile.

"We'll just have to find a way to bring all of it back. Me, Plagg, Wayzz and Trixx are still here, we'll help you."

"And this storm is rising inside of me Don't you feel that our whole worlds collide? It's getting harder to breathe It hurts deep inside"

When was the last time she had a good sleep?

When was the last time she relaxed and spend time with her family?

When was the last time she was happy?

Endless problems continue to come her way. And Marinette doesn't know if she can handle it anymore.

'It's too much.'

Looking at the blinking stars above her, she silently wonders, what if she was there? What if she let go in the beginning? Thousands of what-ifs entered her mind.

Thousands of regrets, pain and guilt continued to build up inside her. And it's creating something inside her.

Something she might not be able to stop.

"Just let me be Who I am It's what you really need to understand And I hope so hard for the pain to go away"

After months of torture. She finally retrieved almost all of the miraculouses she lost.

But not the butterfly and the peacock.

Standing above the crowd looking at her like she was a god, she felt sick. How could she accept such devotion, when she knows she doesn't deserve it.

Endless questions were thrown at her, but the only thing that stood out among the sea of words was, 'Are you and Chat Noir dating?'.

Upon hearing that, Chat Noir who was waving from behind her had a smug smile on his face when she turned to him. With that action, she finally knew.

She really is alone.

"And it's torturing me But I can't break free So I cry and cry but just won't get it out The silent scream"

"Marinette... We know that you're old enough to solve your own problems, but please know we're always here for you."

Sabine said at the closed trapdoor of her daughter's room.

"We're here, chérie. Always here."

On the other side of the door, Marinette sat silently. Gripping her hair tightly, and teaching her heart to shut close. To not let anything or anyone enter. To lock everything inside.

For good.

"Can't you see how I cry for help 'Cause you should love me just for being myself I'll drown in an ocean Of pain and emotion If you don't save me right away"

"I wish I never met you."

Angry eyes stare at her being. But Marinette only looked straight into a pair of green gleeful eyes.

"We are not friends anymore, Marinette. And I wish we never were."

"Gladly."

She turned around, and the moment she stepped outside of the classroom, Marinette knew there was no turning back. And thus the metaphorical bridge that connects her to them, was set ablaze leaving ashes in its wake.

Marinette knows she can't hold on for long. The forming bruises on her face hurt.

She seethes at the sight of Chat Noir beside the villain, looking at her hungrily. Like a prey in front of a predator.

But Marinette isn't willing to be prey. She can't.

Smirking at her weak form is Hawkmoth, otherwise known as Shadow Moth. The look in his eyes zeroes into the miraculous in her ears. The other half of the Cat Miraculous.

"We finally meet Ladybug. Ah, no. Nice to meet you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the current holder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Guardian of the box."

She scowls at them.

"I think it's time to let everything go now. There's nothing for you to do, you failed."

"Just let me be Who I am It's what you really need to understand And I hope so hard for the pain to go away"

On one sunny day, the skies suddenly clouded with dark clouds floating above them.

Every Parisian in the vicinity was startled.

Sabine was looking at the skies, wondering if a heavy storm is coming. She looks at her husband before pointing towards the upper floor. Tom understood and nodded.

Sabine climbed her way to her daughter's room.

"Marinette?"

She knocked and called her multiple times before opening it and was welcomed with the most horrific view.

Everything inside was destroyed.

She runs back to the bakery and informed her husband. Where was her daughter?!

"Uhm, Babe? Is it going to rain or what?" Alya asks.

Gathering in the park was a fruitful idea before the darkening happened.

The class wonders what was going on. Lila was even having fun getting the sole attention of everyone.

The lone figure on the Eiffel tower stares beneath the scrambling city.

The kwamis behind shuffled anxiously, even the god of destruction looks warily.

A glowing symbol pulses on her palm. The symbol she despises. The symbol that ruined her life. The previous mother box was now etched into the veins of her body. Pulsing, begging to be let out, but she keeps it chained inside. Wearing nothing of the artifacts only the etched symbol.

Her eyes were dull. No emotions pass through it.

"Marinette?" Tikki carefully calls.

How long has she endured? How long did she dream for all of it to end? And now, how can she release everything inside her?

She sighs slowly. 'Let it begin.'

The wind howls loudly. A silent scream is carried to the ends of the world. She stares coldly at everything, before turning away, a silent order for the kwamis to follow. The order of their Guardian.

As they say, the eyes are the windows to the soul, and thus the figure of someone trapped behind bars is reflected in her eyes.

The gleaming purple shade of her eyes caged the screaming figure filled with emotions inside her.

"And it's torturing me But I can't break free So I cry and cry but just won't get it out The silent scream My silent scream"

Let me know if you like to be added to any future one shot's taglist!

#Miraculous Ladybug One-shots #marinette deserves better #guardian marinette #marinette needs a hug #song inspo fic #class salt #adrien salt #alya salt

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midnightraine131 · 9 months

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Read on AO3

Fall of 2007

Echoes of whispers, blurred faces, sly smiles, and judging eyes looked down on her. Her petite figure sat in a small space on the steel bench along the long, dark hallway, waiting for two enormous doors to open and swallow her whole.

She closed her eyes, recalling the last moment, the last time she traced her fingers along the lines of his palm. She never begged; she never asked him to stay. She felt the tip of his fingers when she let go of his hand. No one ever guessed that would be the last time she felt his warmth.

Red lights,

Heavy pouring rain,

Angry fires devouring her love,

Screams in agony,

A body hitting the windshield of her car.

That was the end of the long, unforgettable summer night.

A nightmare happened a year ago.

Her eyes snapped open when she felt the presence of a man sitting beside her. He loosened the button of his well-pressed grey suit so he could sit comfortably. His blond hair was neatly swept back, with a thick mustache covering his upper lip. He didn’t start a conversation; he didn’t even look at her.

Silence covered the gloomy hallway; it was almost suffocating.

She wished the clock would stop ticking so she could run away as fast as she could. Her tired eyes focused on the wrist of the man beside her, watching as the third hand of the watch ticked, nearly approaching twelve. Would it stop if she glared at it? No, what foolish wishful thinking.

She scoffed at herself. Does this sound like desperation? Anyway, she's meeting her own end now. This day will dictate her future, and she already knows the answer.

It’s a losing battle; why does she need to fight more? Why does she still need to go through these painful trials over and over again? She doesn’t know anymore.

"Is something the matter?" the man finally spoke. A pair of big blue eyes stared back at her, kind and genuinely concerned.

She looked down at her shoe; it was black, flat, and the string was loose. Not the kind of shoe she would walk in every day. "Your watch, it's a Patek Philippe."

The man sighed and stretched his arm, his sleeves folding, revealing the watch wrapped around his wrist. He glanced at the watch in question.

"Do you reward yourself every time you win a case? Or do your clients give it to you as tokens?" she continued—no idea why she didn't answer his question.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he still proceeded to answer her question. "My work wasn't easy. If I win, I reward myself. If I lose, I give something away. And sometimes, some people give me things I never asked for."

"Fair enough. But I doubt you lose more than you win. I heard you keep beating those prosecutors' asses."

"I win, huh?" The man shifted his position so he could face her. He clasped his hands together, fidgeting with his thumbs as if one was wrestling the other in a match. "I would call it winning if my son doesn't condemn me more for taking over this case."

Annie scoffed again, placing her hand on her forehead to push a curtain of locks away from her face. Even people outside of the court could see the truth. She's tired of these people wearing neckties making her believe their lies.

The man smiled faintly, looking down at his fingers. "This morning, I had a talk with my son. He's almost the same age as you— you're probably a year or two older than him, and that spoiled brat is becoming a little troublesome too." He snorted before he continued, "He asked me why I must defend bad people. I told him everybody deserves a fair trial, and the defendant should be presumed innocent unless— she or he is proven guilty."

But I was. Am I?

Annie looked up at the man for the first time. Since this new attorney took over her case, she stopped looking at everyone's faces, she stopped looking at their clothes and their features. She lost her interest in everything. She then lost her faith.

The man cleared his throat. "You know I'm risking everything for this battle, and so is your father. He's spending every single dime of his fortune to save his only girl. Just in case you haven't heard, your father's company is on the brink of filing for bankruptcy so he could provide you a normal life after this case."

Annie observed his profile. She noticed his eyes; just by looking at him, she could tell he was a kind man. Deep blue eyes displayed genuine concern towards people like her. She had never seen that kind of eyes that can speak words in silence. Not everyone has that, even her father. Why does this kind man defend bad people like her?

"When your father came to my office and handed me an envelope, I was in awe. I had never seen a handwritten check for such a substantial amount. That sum was more than enough to cover my divorce settlement and provide my son and his older brother with a better life. I couldn't believe it." His mouth tugged upward slightly, though this time, it was a fake smile.

"Why are you saying these things to me?" she finally confronted.

"I'm just saying that being a father is more than it sounds like. Our wives might call us assholes on a daily basis, but when it comes to our children, we'll make sure to give everything, risk everything, and if we are privileged, we can buy one's dignity just to provide what's best for our children, even if they messed up. We'll fix the problem for them, like when you were young and had a broken toy. Sure, even if we're dead tired from work, we'll drive to the hardware store to buy glue and pull an all-nighter to fix it, so when you wake up, your toy is as good as new again."

He paused, searching for words on the tip of his tongue. They both spent a brief moment in silence before he continued again. "Your dad's doing this for you. This is how much he loves you."

"I don't deserve it."

The man shook his head disapprovingly, but he knew there was no way he could change her perspective. "You may think of it that way. Yes, you were wrong. Yes, you made a mistake. Indeed, it cost one man's life. But you—" He pointed at her chest where her heart is. "You lost someone you loved that night, too, and you can't bring him back anymore. But your dad thinks he still has a little time to save you. So he could keep you. That's how much he loves you."

He looked up at the ceiling, pausing in that position as if dreaming of a different reality. Then he spoke, "As for me, this will be my last case before I retire. Whether I win or lose, it doesn't matter. I have nothing to lose anymore. Although, I'm giving up the chance for my son to forgive me."

Annie heard footsteps clicking on the marbled floor of the hall, and the legal approached them, grabbing their attention. " The gods of guilt have spoken."

"Right, let's go. The jury is back." He tapped her back as he stood up and buttoned his coat. Annie stood up after a few heartbeats, her legs trembling as if they were walking her to the guillotine.

The man opened the door for her, and the bright lights and scrutinizing eyes welcomed her into the room. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to throw up and pretend to pass out, so she wouldn't have to witness the end of it.

She sat down at the defense panel, beside the man she had been talking to on the bench. Silence fell in the room, and she felt like the room was becoming smaller and smaller, with the walls closing in and faces becoming more recognizable. She couldn't tolerate it anymore.

"The defendant may stand."

She complied, along with the man beside her, pouring all her energy into her wobbling legs. Though her mouth was dry, she tried her best to swallow the lump in her throat.

"You may read the verdict."

Her eyes drifted to her left, watching as the foreperson stood among the jurors. Not a single soul moved, and the foreperson cleared his throat before beginning.

"In the matter of the State of New York vs..."

Annie wanted to scream.

"...on the charge of Second-Degree Felony Vehicular Homicide causing the death of..."

Her hands balled up the orange fabric on her legs, and she watched as her knuckles turned white.

"...we find the defendant..."

How could she live her life after this?!

...

Don't

...

Say

"...not guilty."

Annie's sight blurred as warm tears streamed down her cheeks.

Unfair.

It's unfair.

It's really unfair!

She should have been punished!

Silhouettes began to swarm around her. Some were tugging at her, pulling her into a hug, and others were tapping her shoulders. Then she recognized Pieck pushing other people aside to get closer to her. Annie could see a similar puffiness in the brunette's eyes. Pieck raised her hands and used her slender fingers to wipe Annie's tears from her cheeks. She muttered something, but Annie couldn't discern it since her eyes were fixed on the papers being shoved into a black leather bag—her case files.

That's right! My case files!

“My case files!” she slurred.

She felt the weight on top of her, golden blond strands tickling her cheeks. She could smell his shampoo. Shit.

He grunted, "Annie, you're sleep talking." He shifted his head to the opposite side, away from her face. "What case files? I want to sleep more." he talked, half asleep.

"Armin?"

"Hmm?"

"Your hard-on. It's poking my legs." She pretended to suppress a laugh, masking the worry creeping inside her. "Don't tell me you're asking for another round?"

He buried his face deeper in her sheets, ears turning a bright shade of red. "Annie! Stop teasing me! It's natural for guys to have a standing ovation in the morning." He muffled.

Contented with her teasing, she brushed his hair with her fingers, kissing the sensitive skin of his shoulder. She noticed bite marks on his skin. Seems like they really went rough this morning. Who knows? She's too tipsy to remember.

"You should worry if it doesn't poke you anymore." He struck back.

"If it doesn't poke me anymore, I would assume it's poking someone else already." She sang in playful tease.

His head rose from hiding from the sheets, and his face was embarrassingly flustered. "I'm not that kind of guy!"

"I know, I know." She rained him with pecks of kisses across his cheeks to his mouth when suddenly his phone rings.

He retrieved his phone from the pool of white sheets. As his hand emerged from beneath her thick comforter, Connie’s name illuminated on the screen. He tapped to answer on speaker.

Jean’s voice greeted him, “Armin, I swear if you're still in bed—”

“We're on our way to pick you up,” Connie interrupted.

“Okay, I’ll be ready in a minute. Connie, can you—”

“Let me guess, two Advils,” Connie finished his sentence like an automatic answering machine.

Annie continued to peck him with kisses. Armin tried to stop her by covering her mouth with his palm. She took his wrist to pull his hands away from her mouth and laughed softly. Armin bit his lower lip as he tried to hold back his chuckle, revealing his pristine white teeth, and mouthed “Stop.”

"Hey, do you think we can't hear you two?" Jean confronted them over the phone.

Armin gestured, putting his index finger in front of his mouth, and whispered, "Shhh," before talking on the phone. "Also, can you get me a Gatorade?"

Jean clicked his tongue and talked to Connie, making sure Armin and Annie could hear him. "Connie, could you schedule Armin to go to church this Sunday? Your boss needs Jesus sometimes."

Armin put his phone in front of his mouth and playfully said, "Bye Jean, Bye Connie."

"What– we're picking you up right now-"

Armin hung up the phone and playfully glared at Annie before he forced himself to stand up and run towards the bathroom. "I need to hurry, or Jean will kill me."

Annie watched his back disappear into her bathroom. She listened as he turned on the shower. Her hands involuntarily picked up her laptop from the side table to check her emails. She had received three from Eren, and Annie swore she needed to extensively rewrite his entire articles. He wasn't bad; Eren was quite a good writer, but instead of focusing on the facts, he forced his personal opinions into his topics. Annie sighed and dragged Eren’s articles to a separate folder to edit later.

Then she logged into Teams.

Annie Leonhart: Good morning, Hitch.

Hitch Dreyse: …

Hitch Dreyse: Hi boss, what do you want?

Annie Leonhart: Can you drive to the bakery shop on Broadway?

Hitch Dreyse: Why? No time to make breakfast at home this time?

Annie Leonhart: ...

Hitch Dreyse: Let me guess, you’re probably naked on your bed after an intense night with your little prosecutor?

Annie Leonhart: Shut up, I’ll send you my orders, and you can grab something for yourself and the rest too. I think only you, me, Pieck, and Eren will be at the office today. Everyone’s deployed to cover the press conference.

Hitch Dreyse: Noted.

Annie could imagine Hitch’s grunts and complaints over a single word. She then proceeded to type down all her orders. The usual sugary, diabetic set of caramel flans, chia pudding, and raspberry pistachio cups. Annie also ordered banana pudding and Belgian chocolate-covered strawberries for Adeline just in case she became difficult in the office later. Annie could at least bribe her with some sweets.

Annie could hear Armin emerging from her bathroom. As soon as he opened the door, Annie slowly closed her laptop and looked up at him. But as soon as her eyes fell on him, her jaw dropped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing her reaction.

“Armin, are you seriously wearing that?” Annie shook her head, looking at him from head to toe. He’s back with his yellow cardigan and black skinny slacks. His hair is down flat, still damp from the morning shower. “I can’t believe you're best friends with Jaeger, and he hasn’t influenced you with some sense of style.”

“What?” he chuckled, “I'm just giving a speech, not trying to look like Ashton Kutcher on a Netflix series.” He started to button his sleeves when Annie scooted to the foot of the bed so she could reach him, leaving the comforter crumpled in one corner. Her toned body was now exposed in the morning light, and Armin's eyes drifted to her white bra and panties, then to her face. He blushed at how pretty she looked in the morning.

“Armin,” she called, “Take my hairdryer and hairspray from my vanity. Let me help you with your hair.”

He gave her a confused look but still complied. Once he came back, Annie tapped the sheets beside her, signaling him to sit beside her, and he followed suit. She kneeled on the bed so she could see the crown of his head. Armin curved his back, lowering his head and using his elbow to support his weight on his knee, making it easier for Annie to reach the top of his head.

His eyes wandered back and forth over her abs, her belly button piercing, and her white underwear as she worked on drying his hair. He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip to resist the temptation.

When his hair was completely dry, Annie turned off the hairdryer and took the hairspray with her left hand, while the other worked on brushing up the golden blonde locks.

Armin moved his head toward her, “I don't want my hair too neatly swept up. I'd look like my dad.”

“I'd be scared if you didn't look like your dad,” she said, continuing to work on his hair, spraying, brushing, and blowing on it, and spraying again.

“Hey, calm down there. These things release chlorine atoms!” He struggled to break free from her and took the spray bottle from her to check its contents, his eyebrows narrowing. “I don't want to risk damaging the ozone layer just to look good on TV for one day.”

Annie chuckled, “The whole of America will be watching you today, you nerd. Next time, I'll buy CFC-free hairspray for you so you don't need to worry about Mother Earth. Anyway, I'm done.”

He looked back at her and put his index finger just below his nostrils, mimicking a mustache. Then he pouted and ballooned his cheeks. “Do I look like my dad now?”

She chuckled, took his hand, and led him towards her vanity. She tiptoed to rest her chin on his shoulder as they both looked in the mirror at his appearance.

His bangs were brushed up to the right, exposing his left thick eyebrow and forehead, accentuating the beautiful features of his face and making him look more mature.

“You look too good to wear just a cardigan,” she commented, tapping his arm. He turned to her as her hands traveled to the collar of his polo, trapping the yellow fabric between her fingers and slowly sliding it down his arms. Armin tugged the sleeves to free his hands from the cardigan, and he did the same with the other hand. Their eyes locked as Annie reached out to snatch the cardigan from his hand and disregard it on the floor. “Come on, suit up,” she whispered.

She held his hand and led him to her walk-in closet, where a garment bag was hanging in one of the cabinets. The garment bag Jean had brought for him yesterday. She unzipped the bag, revealing well-tailored Hall Madden suits. There were three suits inside the bag, but Annie chose the one made of Herringbone in grey with a raven-black gabardine collar.

She carefully took it out of the bag and helped him put it on. She admired her masterpiece, looking up at him. She couldn't believe the man standing in front of her looked like a prince. “Now I believe the suit is the lawyer’s best armor.”

He turned to the mirror, his mouth agape. He couldn't believe how good he looked after the makeover.

"I wouldn't be surprised if some Hollywood journalists throw their panties on the podium," she commented.

He chuckled, "Impossible. I only have my eyes on one journalist I know."

She smiled, "You're an expert in flirting now?"

"I learned from you." He held her waist, pulling her body close to him. His eyes studied her neck, his fingers tracing her collarbone. It would be nice if she wore jewelry around her neck, he thought.

Then he took her hand and kissed the tip of her fingers before he caught her ring finger. Staring at it as if remembering every detail of it. Then he proceeds to lower his head and Annie meets him halfway, but before their lips meet, Annie licks his lips playfully. Armin was surprised but opened his mouth to welcome Annie's tongue to explore. He tugged at the strap of her bra and pulled it down to her shoulder. She just started deepening their kiss when a loud honking echoed in their ears. Pulling them back to their reality.

"That should be Jean!" he exclaimed, pulling away from their kiss, leaving her swollen lips exposed to the air. He retrieved the shirt he had worn the night before and threw it at her. She quickly put it on.

Then he stumbled to his suitcase, opened it, took out a brown LV watch case, and swiftly unbuckled the lock, revealing three high-end wristwatches. Annie's eyes locked onto the one in the middle, a rose gold Nautilus, a watch reminiscent of her dreams—she remembered the Patek Philippe her lawyer wore in court.

He noticed her frozen, standing like a statue, and walked back to her while putting on the chronograph Breguet Tradition on his wrist. Her eyes were still fixed on the watch case.

"Annie, is something wrong?" he observed.

"Armin, I have something to ask you." She clenched her fists. "Yesterday, you mentioned the death of your friend—"

Armin's eyes focused on her, and Annie noticed his pupils dilating slightly. She couldn't tell if it was due to the poor lighting in her walk-in closet or if he was growing tense.

She dropped her gaze and stared at her toes. "How did you know that the killer was driving a McLaren?"

Armin clenched his jaw. "What's with this question?"

"Just answer me, God damn it." Annie's eyes began to burn, but she didn't let him see it.

Armin sighed, narrowing his eyebrows. "My dad took over the case, as much as I hate to admit it. He counseled the defense."

"What did you know about the killer? Have you seen the case files?"

Armin shook his head. "No, knowing my dad, he will keep all his case files until his grave." He paused and gathered his courage. "All I know is that the defendant was a blonde, rich girl named Tiffany."

In just a few seconds, Annie's hands grew cold as she was transported back in time. Memories rushed back to her like scenes from a film reel.

She found herself back in the dark, gloomy hallway of the courthouse.

Standing before her was a man with neatly combed golden-blond hair and a mustache, his kind ocean-blue eyes fixed on her.

The man, Attorney George Arlert, turned to her and said, "You can do me a favor—"

Live a new life as a new person,

Love the person you will soon meet on the streets,

Laugh when people ask you about your history because— you don't have a reason to answer.

Desert your past life

...Because you are not Tiffany; you are—

Annie Leonhart

#aruani fanfic #aruani fic #aruani fanfiction #aruannie #aruani #armin arlert #annie leonhart #annie leonhardt #armin arlelt #annieleonhardt #arminarlert #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #hidinginplainsight

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