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rcvcgers · 4 months ago

Text

Bar Games

ao3 link

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: sylus x reader

synopsis: you drag sylus into a dive bar and challenge him to a game of darts and pool.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: emphasis on foreplay. sylus gets a boner & stares at your boobs, very suggestive language, not too explicit. this is their foreplay. kinky nickname at the end. not proofread!

author's note: hi y'all i had a burst of inspiration for this and here we are! uploading this without looking back fr

The N109 Zone isn’t the best place to live, that is, unless you’re the big bad boss of Onychinus. Sylus didn’t have to wave his status around him. People simply knew who he was and, in turn, knew not to fuck with him or start something that they can’t finish.

You, on the other hand, loved to make bets with him. He always won with little to no effort and always had you face down in a mattress begging for release under his touch.

Sylus took you out of the N109 Zone for the weekend. He whisked you away to a desert city that was only a few hours away from Linkon’s more moderate climate. It was a big change of pace for the two of you but you had fun exploring the new city, even making a few purchases that were stuffed inside his motorcycle’s small side compartments.

After the first hour of the ride back to the N109 Zone, you tapped on his leg to stop when a small building and flickering neon sight caught your attention. He obeyed your wish and pulled over, unimpressed with the sight in front of him. Staring at the run down dive bar reminded him of something you once told him.

It was the previous year’s summer and Linkon’s citizens were suffering due to an intense heat wave. He came to visit you in your upgraded apartment (he bought the luxurious pad the day he met you and only gave you the keys when you agreed to move in with him) and found you sprawled out on the living room floor.

The air conditioning broke and you were drenched in sweat, fanning yourself. Sylus had to peel you off of the floor to get you to respond to him. You absentmindedly touched his body and blamed it on the summer heat, stating that the summer heat always has people acting crazy.

The dive bar was a refuge from the summer heat and you couldn’t stand being on the back of his bike, baking away under the scorching heat. Your skin was already slightly burnt, a nice pink color leaving you feeling perpetually warm. You took Sylus’s hand and dragged him inside despite his refusals.

The dive bar reeks of cigarette smoke and alcohol, a slight twinge of sourness settling into the back of your throats. A few bar patrons were scattered throughout the tired-looking bar. Some of them minded their own business when you walked in whereas a few of the dingy looking men glues their eyes on you. Sylus tried to get you to leave but you insisted that the two of you stay.

“We’ll drink to new experiences,” you cooed, already walking into the half empty bar.

His ruby red eyes watch you closely. The Onychinus leader nurses a glass of warm whiskey, the best that the dive bar had to offer among its sparse collection. The alcohol’s familiar burn coats the inside of his throat.

He’s had better. Hell, the bottles of off-brand whiskey he was given by his business partners for the holidays are all better than whatever garbage they served him here.

You wear a tight black bodysuit and gray jean shorts that are a little too short for his liking, but he didn’t feel like arguing with you about it. At the end of the day, he knew that you are his, nobody else’s, and nothing is going to change that.

It doesn’t stop him, though, from putting his leather jacket over your shoulders to stop the other, grimy men from ogling your pushed up breasts.

Sylus sets the glass on the wooden bar top, his full attention on you as you stand between his legs. The scent of the perfume he picked out for you tingles the inside of his nose. A smirk forms across his lips as he tilts his dead at you.

Sylus’ eyes trail towards your neck. You wear a simple yet elegant necklace, one that costed a cool million dollars. A ruby hangs from the dark metal chain and it slides up and down your skin with ease. Sylus has never wished more to be a necklace in his life. He shifts his attention to your hands, watching how you twist and roll metal darts between your delicate fingers.

“Baby?” You look up at him, eyes big and doe-like. You bite your bottom lip and flutter your eyelashes at him. He hums in response, red eyes trained on your dark red lips. His favorite shade. “Want to play a game with me?”

“A game?” His voice is raspy, itching your brain in all the right ways. He knows you mean a bet though. Just another one of your weak wagers you throw at him. You nod, smiling. “What bet do you have planned for me, kitten?”

“Nothing!” You roll your eyes, hands moving to your hips. “I’ll go ask someone else to play with me then—”

Your body isn’t able to move. Sylus’ Evol holds you in place, his energy hot against your skin. You bite back a smirk and force a frown onto your face. He lowers his head, white hair ticking your forehead.

“Who said I wasn’t playing?” He asked, amused by your antics. He plucks the darts from your hand. The metal darts look minuscule in his hands. His long, slender fingers rolled the metal cylinders back and forth. He pushes himself off of the bar, snaking his fingers around your hand, leading you to the vacant dart board.

Sylus stands you behind the worn white line on the ground. He pushes his chest into your back, the fabric of his leather jacket separating your bodies, holding out two darts to you. One dart’s flight, or wing, is a deep shade of green. The other is crimson red, his signature color, but he wouldn’t mind if you played using it.

That way everyone in the bar will know you’re his.

You hum to yourself, the tip of his nose dragging along the shell of your ear. You take the green dart. He chuckles into your ear and twirls the red one between his fingers.

“Have you played before, kitten?” His voice is low in your ear. You shiver, a smile taking over your face. You shake your head no and Sylus nods.

The tall man lifts his hand in front of your face. He holds the dart between his fingers, showing you how to hold it. You follow his lead, leaning back into him as he keeps you steady. He doesn’t take his gaze off of you, throwing the dart into the board with ease. It lands just inside of the bullseye.

“Showing off?” You chuckle, watching as he steps around you to collect the dart. “Let me guess…you played a lot while in captivity? Locked away in prison? Maybe you had to play a game with your life on the line just to escape the mob.”

“Your imagination is wild today. Maybe we should stop watching movies before you go to sleep,” Sylus’ deep chuckle sends shocks down your spine. You look up at him, his head dipping low. You tilt your head at the last second, his lips grazing against your cheekbone. You take a single step away from him, lining up behind the white line.

“Not now, baby, I need to focus,” you tease him. You stare at him from the corner of your eye. Sylus grips the darts tighter in his land and he keeps the same smug smirk on his lips. He knows you’re toying with him, baiting him into whatever game you’re playing at.

He’ll figure your motives out soon enough. He always does.

“What are you wanting to bet, kitten?” Sylus cocks his head to the side. You hesitate and turn to him, keeping your lips on your face.

“Loser has to do whatever the winner wants for twenty four hours.”

Sylus raises his eyebrows. He swipes his tongue across his teeth, his eyes eyes looking you up and down. He knew that you wore this to fuck with him. You always loved to play a game of ‘look, but don’t touch’ with him. Sylus was never a fan but didn’t disagree with you when you said the end results were worth it.

“Deal.” He nods his head towards the board, signaling for you to throw. You turn to the board, a glimpse of the bar’s pool table catching your attention, but you don’t pay it any attention.

Your first dart hits the larger section of the twelve slice. The second one hits the opposite side of the board, the dart’s tip burying into the two, but it’s much closer to the bullseye than either of you imagined it would. You slowly inhale with the third dart, releasing it into the air. It hits the outer rim of the board, landing in the double section of the one slice.

“Fourteen points,” Sylus hides a bit of laughter at your meager attempt, “I gotta say...you’re giving me a run for my money, darling.”

He can’t bring himself to feel bad. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Sylus always wins.

Any bet made against him will never meet the lavish riches as bets that are placed on his side do.

You step away from the line and Sylus stands in your spot. His red eyes never leave your small frame. His black leather jacket is big on your shoulders, the fabric molding around your body. His eyes dip down to your exposed chest, eyeing the tops of your breasts. They threaten to spill out of your bodysuit. He won’t let it happen.

Your breasts are for him and him only.

Sylus wonders which one he’ll mark up first. The sound of your breathy gasps and whimpers rings in his ears, wanting to sink his teeth into your skin while you cry out his name. Twenty four hours isn’t enough time for him to truly do what he wants to you.

Sylus’ eyes don’t leave yours. With no effort, he shoots his darts towards the board. All three land in the inner circle of the bullseye.

Your fourteen points are nothing compared to his one hundred an fifty he just scored.

“Should I go get the motorcycle ready now?” He cockily asks you. You mock his laugh, hip checking to him to the side as you line up.

Sylus’ hands snake around your waist. His slender fingers slide across the smooth material of your bodysuit. The tips of his fingers dip below the jean material of your shorts. His touch is warm, causing your cheeks to heat up alongside the pool of warmth between your legs.

“You can always back out…it’s never too late, kitten. I can be…gentle if you want me to,” Sylus purrs into your ear. You muster up enough courage to push him off of you. With some distance put between you two, your brain isn’t as frazzled and dazed anymore.

You throw your three darts, watching as you earn a solid, and very respectable, thirty points, all thanks to a twenty you hit alongside a six and four. Sylus’ next throws were all bullseyes.

Your impending defeat is only a single point away. Sylus was counting down the seconds until he could put you on the back of his bike and get the hell out of this place. He couldn’t’ wait to devour you whole and have you begging for mercy by the time the sun comes up. Everything was falling into place.

“Double or nothing.”

Your words catch Sylus off guard. He looks down at you. Your hands are on your hips and your gaze is filled with nothing but determination. It’s cute, really, that you think you have a way out of this. He grabs your hip, fingers digging into the fullness of your body, pulling you towards him.

Your chest collides with his. Your wide eyes meet his and he leans down to press a deceptively sweet kiss to your lips. You return it but quickly pull away, leaving him hanging yet again.

“Kitten. There is nothing we can do or play that you can win. If it’ll make you happy…I’ll let you choose the next game.”

The quicker he can win, the sooner he can get you home and show you who is actually in control.

“Pool?” You look up at him, batting your eyelashes at him. His crimson eyes glance at the beaten up table. The wood is a dark brown color but the felt on the top of the table is a faded blue color. He turns his head back to you and nods. “Can you get me another drink? I’ll set up for us.”

“Anything for you,” he presses a firm kiss to your cheek.

Sylus approaches the bar and pulls out his wallet, sliding cash across the bar. He watches the bartender closely. His eyes train on the man’s hands. He doesn’t trust anyone with your drink other than him, especially since the bar is well below his standards. Once the fruity cocktail is done, he snatches the glass from the man and turns on his heel, your giggles and laughs bringing comfort to his ears.

Are his eyes deceiving him? Or are you accepting a cigarette from a grimy stranger?

He inches closer to you, grip tightening on the chilled glass. You warmly smile at the man, plucking a slender, white cigarette from the carton. You put it between your lips and lean forward, but he’s quick to grab your face and turn it up to him. With a snap of his fingers, the end of your cigarette is lit, using a small hit of his Evol to light it for you.

“Leave.” Sylus’ demand is simple yet dangerous. The man scoffs and pockets the pack of cigarettes.

Sylus’ gaze shoots to him, right eye glowing from under the cover of his white hair, and the man quickly scurries away. The Onychinus leader turns his attention back to you. You slowly inhale the smoke, holding it in for a few seconds, and blow it out and into Sylus’ face. He groans and shakes his head.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, kitten,” his low voice erupts the butterflies in your stomach. You smile at him, the circumference of the cigarette now painted with your red lipstick.

“I’ll let you break,” you take the cigarette out of your mouth and trap it between two fingers. Nearby, you gently tap away the ashes into an old ash tray that has broken buds poking from its surface. You turn and watch Sylus, eyes traveling across his muscular body.

His biceps flex as he grabs a pool cue, his short sleeve shirt showcasing just how strong he is. You bite your lip and watch as he sets up the white ball in front of the triangle. He leans over the table and look back at you. His red eyes shimmer from mischief.

With one strong hit, the balls break and clatter against each other. None of the weighted balls make it in, though, and the tall man turns to you.

The summer heat slips in through the dive bar windows. The sun begins to set behind scenic mountains and the condensation from your drink makes the outside of the glass slick. You take a swig from the cup and place it on the table beside you.

“Wow! Good job, babe,” you smile at him. He passes the pool cue to you, drawing you in. You take the wooden stick from him, feeling the heaviness in your hands. A smirk blossoms on your face when Sylus stands close behind you.

His large hands rest on top of your tiny ones. The raises the cue to the table, easing you over the edge of the table, your ass pushed back into his hardened crotch. You glance at him from over your shoulder, his red eyes glowing.

The pool cue slides between your left hand’s fingers. You chuckle, turning your eye to the white ball that is perfectly aligned with the blue striped ball. The number ten stares at you as you shift your weight across your feet. Sylus’ body leans into yours, pinning you to the table.

“Do you need my help, kitten?” Sylus purrs into your ear. You shake your head. He pulls his hips back, slowly rising from the table. “As you wish. I’ll go easy on you since it’s your first time playing?”

His tented pants leave the crevice of your ass yet remains close enough that you can feel the heat his body radiates. A smirk spreads across your lips.

“Who said it was my first time playing?” You sweetly ask. You quickly draw the pool cue backwards, the end hitting Sylus right into his hardened cock. A surprised gasp escapes his lips.

The white ball collides into the ten ball, sinking into the corner pocket.

You slowly stand up, sliding the pool cue through your hand, resting the edge on the floor. You turn to Sylus, a sickeningly sweet smile on your face. He huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“You’re solids, baby.”

Who knew his kitten could hide something like this from him? He’ll never underestimate you from now on.

Sylus watches as you move around the pool table with confidence and conviction. One by one, the striped balls disappear into the leather sacks that hang from the table. You take your time with it, wanting to drag out Sylus’ torture for as long as you can.

All that’s left is the eight ball. The black mass stares at you from across the table. It’s not in any good position to be hit into the hole without the white one tipping in after it. You hum to yourself, refusing to look at Sylus, and you quietly map out the last route in your head.

With one final and decisive strike, the white ball collides with the side of the table, bouncing off and reflecting right into the eight ball. It slowly rolls across the blue felt, teetering on the corner pocket, before eventually tipping inside.

You turn and smile at Sylus. His gaze is hot on you, his smirk devious yet proud. You step to him, sliding the pool cue into his grasp. He looks down at you, the weight of his defeat falling onto his shoulders. You pat his chest, smoothing out an isolated wrinkle.

“You’re mine for forty eight hours,” you whisper up to him. His chest puffs out from a chuckle. He tosses the pool cue onto the table where every single solid color ball sits. His hands attach to your hips, yanking you against him.

“You are one sneaky kitten,” Sylus grumbles under his breath.

“Ah…you’re going to have to call me ‘mistress’ for the weekend,” you quip back with a devious and lustful smirk.

Sylus’ eyes darken. His fingers tighten on your hips, digging into your body, sure to leave marks from his touch.

Maybe it’s the summer heat making you act so uncharacteristically.

“Promise to go easy on me, mistress?”

“Never.”

masterlist of works

#sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus lads #love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #rcvcgers writings #sylus x you

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rbbrbikerthorp · 1 year ago

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Biker Upgraded To Cyborg

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Installing Human Emotion Suppression Software”

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

“Human Emotions Suppression Software installed. Fully functional.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=========

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

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

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mountaingutta · 2 days ago

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Some headcanons about my favorite aliens (TFP)

Orion tease Megatronus about the shape of his helmet.

Megatronus constantly teases Ratchet about his height. One day, as revenge, Ratchet unscrewed his legs while he was asleep.

Before the war, many well-known Decepticons and Autobots were on the Senate's “elimination list.” Naturally, both Optimus and Megatron topped it.

Most bots either deactivated or completely removed their reproductive systems during the war. They did it to install new upgrades, make the frame faster, stronger, and remove an unnecessary component that was draining body energy. For some, those systems were severely damaged.

Ratchet sing serenades under Orion's window, maneuvering on the Cybertronian equivalent of a motorcycle while playing guitar.

Orion tells everyone Alpha Trion found him in a dumpster. In truth, he was discovered in an abandoned temple deep in a forest, feral and surrounded by a pack of cyber-wolves. When Ratchet asked why he keeps spreading the dumpster story, Orion replied "Jazz and Ariel find it funny" - "Because the three of you share half a processor between you"

Ratchet and Ironhide welded Jazz to the ceiling at least once.

Ratchet ran away from home to study in Iacon. He didn’t return until after he’d earned his medic’s license.

When Ratchet introduced Orion to his family as his partner, every single one of them threatened him to treat Orion well.

Miko loves learning foreign languages. In the future, she'll either become the best pilot in the world, one of the most renowned linguistics experts — or both.

She has three dads — a caring one, a crazy one, and a strict stepdad who doesn’t know he’s her dad yet.

Arcee is obsessed with anything shiny.

Ratchet used to call Orion “dolly”

During the war, Megatron put a bounty on every Autobot medic. As for Ratchet, he ordered him taken alive or, if killed, to bring him his hands.

Jack runs a food blog. At first, it was supposed to be just a fast-food blog — but Jack quickly realized he gets enough of that at work. Optimus suggested he explore traditional dishes from different countries and turn the blog into that instead. They are researching this together.

One of his followers asked why he chose that particular topic for the blog, and Jack, without thinking, said, “My dad suggested it…” Then he just "Wait! no — I meant this one dude... "

Soundwave plays a video game on the Nemesis mainframe. He has a nemesis in-game with the username “Needawrench12.3/4.” It's Raf.

During the game, Soundwave tries to use typical insults like "I'll fuck your mother". And when Raf reads this, he looks at Ratchet and writes back "Your dick won't last."

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angrythingstarlight · 1 year ago

Note

How did Gorgeous adjust to moving in with biker Bucky?

It was an interesting time.

Bucky's house was definitely the epitome of a bachelor pad. His place was clean, well maintained but it was apparent that a biker lived here. Before he asked her to move in, Bucky got rid of the posters, put the spare motorcycle parts in the garage, revamped his home gym, upgraded his towels and washcloths.

It took a little over a month to get fully moved in because she decided to take her time��unlike any other move she's done in the past, this one was stress free. Rearrange his things, add in hers, buy new things together.

Soon his place became their place.

Bucky loved all the things she brought over, the little touches that turned it into something warm and cozy. Made it so that he couldn't wait to get home to her.

Their first night together was fun and set the dynamic for their relationship going forward. Bucky decided the best way to celebrate her moving in was to christen every room in the house. They started with the kitchen and eventually made their way to the bedroom.

Bucky knew then that he'd never get enough of her. And he still hasn't.

#sweet asks #biker!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader

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allyallyorange · 1 year ago

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Master Post for Ateez Adventure Time AU

Ok let's get into it! I'll be adding to this post whenever I post anything new for the AU! I'm going to try to organize everything so that it's in chronological order of the story! There are a few arcs I've got planned too so I'll try to make everything as clear as possible haha

(also I do my best but sometimes I confuse myself with exact ages of the characters and exactly like. what time of year things would take place, but think of it like any CN show we grew up with - time is seemingly an illusion if I don't think about it too much...)

Also!! Thank you so much to everyone who has said they enjoy my au!! you help me stay motivated! I'm having so much fun drawing this stuff ♡

Lineup for ref:

Good to know points about the AU:

Universe A = main universe

**this au is inspired by Adventure Time. I'm not using main characters from AT, just using the general vibe of the show and some plot points and character points (ex: Vampires drink the colour red)

Universe Z = no magic universe

Ages at the beginning of the story (approximately):

Seonghwa - 1000 (physically 25)

Hongjoong - 2500 (physically 25)

Yunho - 24

Yeosang - 850/900 (physically 24)

San - a little over 100 (physically 23)

Mingi - a little more than 600 (physically 23)

Wooyoung - 23

Jongho - 22

**characters who are "immortal" age about 1 year over the course of 100 years (SH, HJ, YS). San and Mingi are not immortal but didn't age due to other circumstances (in hell time works differently, and MG was frozen for 600 years)

List of Spotify playlists if you're interested!

Misc doodles dumps that include things from pre/post/main story and idk where to put

Character lineup plus other doodles

Hongjoong and Mingi (they're bros)

Hongjoong doodle

3 Demons

Character lineup for final battle

Pre-Story (Universe A)

Seonghwa Logs

Pieces of the past

The star and his flower

Cuddle for warmth

Slipping through my fingers…

Hongjoong and Seonghwa meet

Big Brother and Little Brother

First Demon Prince Show

Glasses required

Sleepy brothers

Wooyoung summons a friend

Helpful Human

Yunho and San

Sleepy Heroes

No Ice Demons in the Workshop

Seonghwa + Yeosang, Hongjoong + Mingi profiles

Jongho + Yunho, San + Wooyoung profiles

Pre-Story (Universe Z)

Yunho and Mingi (age 13)

2ho and Mingi playing video games

After School

Spider-Man 3

Cold Hands

Snowy

Walkie Talkies and ice cream

Post Joyride with Jongho and Mingi

Wish You Loved Me

Hyung’s Glasses

Cousins

Motorcycle

Yunho The Human

2ho Universe Z to A

Looking for Yunho

Main Story

Living in the forest

The Same

Jongho and Mingi doodle

Afraid of nothing, Afraid of everything

Yeosang meets team Woosanho

The story of The Beast (as told by Wooyoung)

Hongjoong meets Jongho

Team Hongjoong arguing as always

Almost tolerable

Don't kidnap people unless you're ready for friendship??

First meeting: Fire and Ice

First meeting: Yeo meets team Joong

Strawberry boys

Sharing mom

Grocery Shopping

Upgrade!

Cold hugs

San and Mingi hug

Hero boys!

Hongjoong isn't scary. MG and YH becoming friends again?

Ouch! Hot

Wooyoung and San's room

Sleeping on the shed (Hongjoong and Seonghwa)

Seongjoong awkwardness

Yunho's photos

He wants to join...

Vintage shirt

Window visit

The Boy and The Beast

Monster

Some words are said

Apologize..?

Jongho after the accident

Cool scars (Jongho)

Summer Boys!

Beach episode

Chill day

Big bro Little bro

Hey, Joong!

Post-Story (Yeosang arc)

Dimension hopping with friends (lineup)

Somewhere in another dimension...

Universe V

Evil Yeo doodle

Sorry Princess

Heart to Heart

Out of Time

Post-Story (Mingi arc)

The End of The Beast

Hugs

After everything

Post-Story (Misc)

Inventor Woo (ft Yunho)

#ateez #ateez at au #masterpost

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biggie-chcese · 2 months ago

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Gift Giving in Rain Code

playing 100line had me remembering how it always made me sad that rain code never lets the player give gifts to the other detectives. they're a cute and fun way to flesh out the cast and deepen character bonds.

it'd be fun to have some sort of magical gachapon machine in the city that dispenses gifts if you gather collectable "Shinigami-coins" similar to how you find shinigami statues laying around, so there are more reasons to explore kanai ward. or maybe detective points could even be spent on it so there are more reasons to do side-quests.

if you give the best gifts, you can unlock a conversation or event with the other detectives like a sort of upgraded gumshoe gab. it'd be even better if you can unlock interactions where the cast could hang out as a group...

so here's my comprehensive list of what i think the cast's favorite gifts would be if you got to do danganronpa-style gachapon gifts:

(some spoilers under the cut. i have some overlap in gifts because i'm considering what it'd be like if it was actually in the game)

Shinigami: Bloodstained Knife, Girl's Panties, Rice Ball Treat, Risque Bikini, Yuma Plushie

Yakou: Kamasaki Meat Bun (obviously), Cheap Booze, Handmade Detective's Badge, Cigarette Pack, Arcade Tickets

Halara: Kitten Plushie, 5,000 Shien Bill, Steel Heels, Lucky Cat Keychain, Lollipop Bouquet

Desuhiko: Makeup Kit, Fresh Threads, Guitar Amp, Girl's Panties, Fizzy Soda Pop

Fubuki: Legendary Sword, Chocolate Energy Bar, Retro Gaming Console, Ornate Dagger, Adventurer's Whip

Vivia: Big Fluffy Pillow, Obscure Book Collection, Sleep Mask, Mysterious Syringe, Sharp Razors

Kurumi: High Quality Camera, Play Detective's Kit, Running Shoes, Night Vision Goggles, Gossip Magazine

Makoto: Champagne, Snazzy Suit, Rubber Ducky, Creepy Mask, Charcuterie Board, (Secret favorite gift: Sherlock Holmes Story Collection)

(even though the train detectives never make it to kanai ward, i did theirs for fun)

Zilch: Wolf Pelt, Leather Boots, Sunflower Seeds, Survivalist's Lighter, Glasses Cleaner

Aphex: Switchblade, Playing Cards, Spiked Baseball Bat, Men's Fitness Magazine, Tissue Box

Pucci: Noise Canceling Headphones, Cute Pouch, Bear Plushie, Fidget Toy, Pudding Treat

Melami: Flashy Jacket, Makeup Kit, Platform Boots, Occult Magazine, Stick-on Rhinestones

Zange: Model Revolver, Whiskey, Flip Phone, Hair Gel, Fountain Pen, Hand Mirror

and i also did the peacekeepers for fun, even though I genuinely believe yuma would never give them gifts lol:

Yomi: Torture Instrument Set, Golden Cane Tip, Royal Crown, Model Gun, Fuzzy Handcuffs

Martina: Ball Gag, Parasol, Elegant Motorcycling Gear, Forged Evidence, Picture of Yomi

Swank: Gold Bars, 5,000 Shien Bill, Sirloin Steak, Fancy Cigar, Leather Wallet

Seth: Megaphone, Wilted Bouquet, Wooden Flute, Dried Flower Bookmark, Ear Plugs

Guillaume: Crystal Ball, Tarot Reading Set, Occult Magazine, Streaming Headset, Voodoo Doll

Dominic: Machine Oil, Training Weights, Sleep Mask, Metal Polish, Punching Bag

also, for fun, i think if you could give gifts to yuma as another character, this would be his gift list:

Yuma: Instant Coffee Packets (after chapter 0, he gets upset if you give him a cup of already prepared coffee), Sherlock Holmes Story Collection, Handmade Detective's Badge, Rubiks Cube, Strange Keychain (the keychain is a tiny shinigami figurine, like the canon overworld collectables)

the description for the keychain would say "A small metal keychain featuring a strange ghost. It's said to store fond memories of friendship."

and that's that! if anyone has any other ideas for a gift giving system in rain code i'd love to hear them!

#rain code #raincode #mdarc #master detective archives #yuma kokohead #shinigami chan #yakou furio #desuhiko thunderbolt #halara nightmare #fubuki clockford #vivia twilight #makoto kagutsuchi #yomi hellsmile #martina electro #seth burroughs #swank catsonell #guillaume hall #dominic fulltank #biggie's rain code ramblings

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months ago

Note

If the Chromatic Crew had jobs in the Omega Timeline, what would they be?

I feel like Delta would work as some sort of mechanic, given his passion for technology and engineering. Perhaps he specializes in robotics, cybernetics, and biomechanical enhancements—particularly for monsters, hybrids, or even humans with prosthetics.

He could design and maintain cybernetic limbs or assistive technology for those who need mechanical augmentations.

Given that Omega Chara kinda cut him half, if his body still struggles to function in some way due to that despite its healing, and potential magical instability, he might experiment with integrating technology into his own recovery and mobility—like reinforced plating, internal stabilizers, or even minor cybernetic enhancements.

He might build AI-driven mechanical assistants to help him in the workshop, reducing the strain of overworking himself.

If the Omega Timeline likely has threats or conflicts, Delta could also potentially work as a weapon specialist, designing high-tech weapons, armor, and battle gear.

I think he’d likely refuse to create purely offensive weapons, instead focusing on defensive gear, shields, and non-lethal weaponry to prevent unnecessary deaths.

(And this is likely something Core agrees with if they allow him to build weapons in the first place. If Delta does make any offensive weapons, they’re likely hidden somewhere he deems safe.)

If the Omega Timeline has any advanced vehicles or transport systems, Delta would absolutely be involved in repairing, modifying, and upgrading them.

He might build experimental hovercrafts, motorcycles, or personal flight devices. I also think Delta is likely to take on side projects, where he builds things just because he can—whether it’s helpful inventions, weird gadgets, or impractical but cool devices.

He might experiment with combining magic and machinery, creating hybrid tech that blends the best of both worlds.

Given that Beta (his human half) grew up on the Surface and Sans grew up in the Underground, he might take inspiration from both human and monster engineering, leading to designs that take from both worlds.

Rather than working under a formal organization, i think Delta is more likely to be a self-taught, independent mechanic who runs his own private workshop or garage.

He might barter services instead of working for money, fixing things in exchange for food, materials, or favors.

Especially if he barters with Core and any members of the potential Council—ensuring their technology, infrastructure, and security remain secure and functional in exchange for housing where he either doesn’t have to pay rent/bills, or the Council covers that for him.

His workspace could be cluttered but functional, filled with half-finished projects, custom tools, and notes scribbled everywhere. He would probably refuse to take jobs from people he doesn’t trust, especially if he suspects they would use his work for harmful purposes.

Especially if we take into account the headcanon of how Killer used any weapons of Delta’s to fuel negativity for Nightmare and help the corruption expand his “organization.”

Color, however, I feel would be unable to work a traditional full time job, at least not for a long time.

And although Delta likely to insist on being the one to take care of everything and everyone in their household, willing to take on extra work if he has to, Color probably worries a lot about what would happen if he doesn’t “get better” and start “pulling his weight.”

Start behaving..like an “adult.” Again.

Will Delta leave him? Will he hate him and get mad at him, throw them out on the streets one day, because he realized how much of a drain Color has been on his life? The burden on his shoulders? Will Beta realize how pathetic he is, nothing worth looking up to? Will Sans look at Color, and be glad he didn’t make the wrong choices and end up like Color?

So at first—I think his best options would be remote work and self employment/commissions.

He could do writing like blogs, short stories, and transcription work. Data entry if he can manage long screen time, and even email-based customer service, not phone-based.

He could even sell any arts, crafts, or music online he makes—and before going on to paid work, he could even try out volunteering in an attempt to refamiliarize with being around people again. (Such as volunteering at the hospital with the children.)

And then eventually a part-time job with flexible hours, and it has to be low-stress, accommodating, and allow for breaks to prevent burnout, breakdowns, and physical collapses from Color.

Like working as a library assistant or a museum guide or doing archival work.

When he starts getting antsy about being trapped in the Omega Timeline, however, I do think he’d definitely be willing to push himself past his limits in regards to work if he views it as a means out of the Omega Timeline.

Perseverance definitely would make it near impossible to stop if it agrees with or shares Color’s desires to get out, or simply is particularly very ambitious on their job or helping Color, regardless of the strain or injury it could cause their shared body.

For Killer, at first I was considering something to do with the death care industry—like an embalmer or a mortician—but then I remembered how he tends to be towards the dead.

He doesn’t really show much respect or care for the dead, such as taking the souls of his victims or studying their dead bodies for his own purposes and ends without consent—and he’s trying to get better in this ending.

Keeping him around and trusting him to handle the Omega Timeline’s dead, tempting him, reminding him of what he’s been surrounded by for a long time now.

What he’s yearned for, what he’s done. Especially if he ever comes across any familiar faces or magical “signatures”…i doubt it’d be good.

So i definitely think he’d do something to do with animals. He loves animals, relates most to them, definitely has a lot more respect and care for them then he does for most other living beings.

He could potentially get a full or part time job in Ccino’s Cafe, working primarily with the animals—cats and dogs.

Especially since Ccino not only knows Killer through their shared connections with Nightmare, but Ccino also very likely has rapport with both Color and Epic.

And speaking of Ccino’s cafe and Epic, there’s Epic’s good pal, Cross.

Now I was a little stuck on potential jobs for both Cross and Epic, outside of the obvious ones—something science related for Epic, something Royal Guard or militaristic-like for Cross.

But I had a feeling that military work may not actually be as good mental health wise for Cross as it seemed, despite its familiarity, and I also felt that Epic had more potential options I just couldn’t see yet.

So I asked a friend of mine her opinions and thoughts on the matter, since she’s more familiar with the characters’ canon than I am at this moment, so I’ll paraphrase what they (@/zuzuelectricbugaloo) and down below:

Epic might take on a part-time role as a doctor since his ability to see Codes would be useful for treating cases where regular magic isn’t effective.

Additionally, he could run a daycare in the Omega Timeline, given his experience babysitting many kids like Palette, Goth/Vidal, Paperjam, and Gradient, and his genuine enjoyment of it.

As for Cross, he might initially consider a military-related job since he’s skilled in that area and likes feeling helpful. However, given the war-like trauma and PTSD he experienced in XTale/Underverse, it wouldn’t be the best choice for him.

He enjoys art and baking, so working part-time at a café could be a good fit. However, considering his past actions in Underverse—such as destroying AUs or causing harm, even indirectly—many Omega Timeline residents might not welcome him.

Because of this, he might prefer working elsewhere, like at Ccino’s café, where he has a good relationship with both Ccino and Epic. There, he could use his artistic side in baking and making drinks or even help with the animals. This setup would allow him to feel productive without overwhelming anxiety or the pressure of feeling like he’s doing everything wrong.

#howlsasks #anon tag #omega timeline #chromatic crew #utmv headcanons #utmv #sans au #sans aus #color sans #killer sans #epic sans #cross sans #delta sans

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cas-backwards-tie · 1 year ago

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Wonderstruck

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Ex!Reader

Summary: Simon Riley finally takes it upon himself to check up on his childhood best friend and ex lover. He's been torturing himself reminiscing on your relationship and what went wrong for years now. Little does he know... you're in the same boat. Having seen someone today you swore was Simon on your way to work, you too, reflect on the past.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Stalking(?),

Mentions of: Drinking, Smoking, Motorcycle Riding

A/N: I don't know why but I constantly am getting inspired by certain songs, or am reminded of certain characters, and all the lyrics were just screaming childhood best friends to estranged lovers, right person wrong time Simon Riley. Nevertheless, if you'd love to listen to some versions of the song which inspired me, here we are! Line divider credit: @saradika-graphics and I'd also love to thank @penelopepine for helping me with the ending <3

He knew it was a bad idea as soon as it'd crossed his mind, yet somehow he couldn't rid himself of it time and time again. That's how he found himself here; watching you cross the street, he can't help but notice the vintage band t-shirt you have on, frayed at the edges with the little strings of the hem coming undone that you've refused to cut off. In you hands you clutch a new phone, no doubt an upgrade from the last one he'd seen you with- though it's been a while.

As you mindlessly tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he can't help the way his insides churn. You were always effortlessly beautiful; you never had to try for anything. Even now, the way you can walk across the busy cobblestone side streets of London in high heels without seemingly second-guessing yourself, body language still poised on guard and ready in case anyone tries anything, just like he'd taught you.

It's clear from your outfit and the lipstick you’re donning that you're attempting to sway the officials at work. Maybe trying for that promotion you’d always been talking about, but never had the gumption to make today the day. What’s different about today, he wonders. You'd always been a go-getter, and truthfully, it was something Simon admired about you. Even in the moments where he'd resented it the most, the constant pestering and prodding at him in an attempt to get him to move and drag him out of the holes his dug himself into...

Where would he be now if only he listened?

What if you knew better?

He couldn't deny that the thoughts kept him up at night while he was away. Though, admittedly, more often than not it was the string of random memories that he’d get glimpses of during the day. It’d always be at the worst times, too. Two weeks ago in Berlin he’d been clapping Kyle on the back, hoping he’ll get it together as he stumbled out the pub. While Soap had the camaraderie to slug half his mate’s weight over his broad shoulders, Simon found himself unable to help as his eyes were drawn in by a couple a few paces down the block.

“Bollocks!” He’d shouted out in frustration. Double-checking himself, he didn’t have a spare cap on him, and he knew he sure as hell didn’t bring an umbrella on your little last minute ‘trip’. Not that he’d really call walking down to the local Tesco for snacks late one summer evening a trip. ‘It’ll be an adventure! Just think of it like that.’ You’d persuaded him.

“What? Are you going to melt?” He hears you joke. As his brown eyes land on your face when you turn to meet his gaze, a few steps ahead of him down the road, he can’t help the smile that breaks out across his lips upon your laughter. Sure, you may both be a little drunk after spending the evening in and having a drink or two. But it doesn’t change the way he feels about you, if anything, it makes him even more keenly aware of the way you affect him.

“Maybe. Who knows?” He teases in responses, tugging his jacket up and over his head to shield himself from the cool summer rain. Despite the time, now he’ll most likely need a shower when you get home. As he jogs to catch up and bring you under his little makeshift cocoon, you do the unexpected.

It was you, of course… he should’ve known better, always testing him, pushing him. With a gentle drop of the plastic bag full of snacks upon the side of the road you’d been strolling down, he watches as you run into the empty street. The streetlights illuminate you in a hazy orangey-yellow light as you begin to spin and twirl, dancing in the street.

With a shake of his head, he’s left stunned once again by the vast difference of your personalities. Your jeans and t-shirt are starting to get damp and discolored, and there’s a taunting, displeased remark sitting on his tongue just waiting to be made. It’s the utter joyous smile on your face as you tip your head back and relinquish yourself to your fate that leaves him wonderstruck, he thinks.

“Come on, Simon!” You beckon, finally meeting his gaze once again with that familiar carefree, hopeful look behind your irises. With an outstretched hand, he knows he can’t deny you this… and really, there’s something inside him that tells him he doesn’t want to, either.

“It’s her, innit?” He hears his Captain’s voice call over his shoulder. Pulled from his memories, Simon dismisses Price with a nonchalant grunt. As the old man tries to place a hand on his shoulder he dodges it, realizing he’s been watching the couple for longer than he’d thought. With Soap and Gaz almost to the end of the block, Simon sighs before shrugging his shoulders to right his jacket and head off in their direction for backup.

That was a time when your playfulness been more easily taken and accepted without question. No fighting, no push back, resentments… maybe that was it: he’d stopped going with the flow. He’d stopped accepting the punches and started dodging and weaving your advances at fixing things and picking up where he left you. Because while it’s too late now, he’s finally realized it for what it is: he left you in the dark, he’s the one who pushed you away, closed himself off.

That night he’d curled up in the temporary bed he’d been assigned, more memories continued to consume him. The way you’d effortlessly ease his worries on nights he’d come home stressed, feathers ruffled from whatever petty drama went on during the day. Whether it was something the guys said that stuck with him, or something he couldn’t get out of his mind when he came back from deployment. Your kisses always seemed to be the cure, your love… or maybe it was just… you.

“You know furrowing your brows like that will cause wrinkles,” you inform him, reaching out to run gentle fingers over his bunched skin.

A grunt of acknowledgment leaves his lips. “More for me to worry about, hm?” While it’s all he says, his eyes are searching over your composure.

“No,” it leaves your lips without thought, “just something to think about, be mindful of. If you’re not upset, then why furrow them?” Voice quiet in the moonlit apartment, your fingers smooth out his brows gently as you admire him. “I read something the other day about how it’s possible our body informs our mental state. If you’re tensing all the time, it won’t help your stress, Si.”

He simply hums in response, doing nothing to stop you as you ghost your lips over his for a moment before planting a loving chaste kiss to his. While big and wide warm hands find the exposed bit of skin between the hem of your sleeping pants and the shirt you wear, it’s the unexpected cool sensation that elicits a muffled gasp. Your much smaller hands are sneaking up underneath his sweatshirt to explore his abdomen, caressing him like he were made of soft silk. Your lips meet again for a chaste kiss.

Then it’s turning into something more; you have to take it slow, your lips dancing against one another, his hand rubbing your back to let you know it’s alright. As you begin to run out of breath, it’s only when you pull away, lashes fluttering against his skin that you ask him. “You know I’d love you even with wrinkles, right?”

Taken aback, he can’t help but stare. Unsure how to respond or what to do, his lips part in search of words. “Is that so?” He finally questions, hand giving your side a soft squeeze.

“My favorite boy… I love you to the moon and back… scars and all. I always have, and I always will, Simon,” you whisper, ghosting his lips again before planting one on him, “I just hope you know that.”

And at the time, he swore he did. It’s odd, really, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it either. Simon tried dating after you, he tried hooking up, he tried it all… but it never felt right. As many times as he replays the memory, he can never get past the feeling of home. With you, it felt like home. You never made him feel expendable, or worry of the abandonment he knew would inevitably come.

For years afterward he blamed you, he saw it as your fault that you left, you abandoned him… when, maybe, really it’s finally time he admits it was him. He made it a self-fulfilling prophecy, and there was nothing you could do.

It's on your way home from work that you see them; while waiting for the bus, there's a playground in the park a few meters away. Really, the idea that human nature is predictable is always laughable at first, but only after watching people and stepping back to become an observer you've noticed from time to time that... it's more than true. Even from a distance, the children in the park look happy... but that's not what catches your eye. There's a blonde boy, and a girl, much like yourself when you were younger, playing what you can only assume is something halfway between hide and seek and tag, considering the playground offers more space and obstacles than hiding spots.

Perhaps it's the joyous looks on their little faces, or the way they unabashedly play, carefree and unaware of the adult worries and burdens the world hangs above their heads, just waiting any day to drop upon their shoulders unexpectedly. However, you can't help but reminisce on the ways you'd spent your childhood playing games much like the one the children are playing in the distance with a boy, very similar to the one before you, loving life, content, happy, simply aspiring to be the best at finding your ultimate hiding spot.

The soft squeak of the wheels coming to a halt before you and the mechanical release of air as the doors open brings your attention back to the present. Before you know it, you're on the bus, unconsciously taking a seat along the windows, hoping, just maybe you'll catch a glimpse of them as the bus drives down the road down its route. Though as you pass, the sun is beginning to set in the distance, the children departing the playground their separate ways as dusk begins to take its toll and curfew sets in place. The whole time you'd been focused on yourself, it's entirely possible that your own boy wound up beating you at your own game, finding the best spot and hiding himself away from the rest of the world.

Maybe it's the fact that you could've sworn you'd seen someone that looked almost identical to Simon on your way to work this morning, but memories continue to plague your mind for the first time in months. All the weekends he'd spent over at your house doing aimlessly silly things to fill your time, from science projects, to playing 'warrior' outside, you never felt more alive than the time you two spent together.

"I'll keep ya safe, yeah? Nothin' to worry about," Simon insists, gently guiding you to the side of the vehicle. Despite going out with your friends to the city for dinner, you both were sober. It should be fine, it would be. You'd been with him a million times... how different could it be? He'd run it by you as many times as you'd asked.

You swear it's not a good idea, but you trust him to the ends of the Earth. With a look over your shoulder, his brown eyes are steady, not uncertain in his unwavering gaze as he nods in assurance. Swinging a leg over the seat, you're in front this time. Helmets in place, hands on the clutch and brakes, you make eye contact with Simon once more before he flicks both your visors down. "Ready?" You ask him.

"More than ready, Love," he quips. With a quick shove to the kickstand, balance (with Simon's help of course), and a rev of the engine, you start the motorcycle off slowly. Gloved hands around your waist, he gives you a gentle squeeze.

He was always pushing you out of your comfort zone, that one. It was the first time you'd driven his motorcycle, and while it'd been scary and daunting for the first fifteen minutes, you eventually got used to it and it blossomed into something freeing. You understood then why he likes it, and you'd never been more grateful for someone pushing you out of your bubble. While flashes of all the kisses, caresses, and intimate moments between the two of you start to effervesce, you force yourself to remember the last time you'd seen him.

With a lingering hug, you're hesitant to let him go. Even if you know it's necessary, it's still hard... it always has been. "You'll let me know when you get in, right?" You ask, searching his eyes. They stand out from the black warpaint, his uniform always made him look handsome, even if you couldn't imagine how intimidating seeing his actual attire would be in his enemies position.

A dismissive and irritated grunt meets your ears as he shrugs your hands off. He'd packed quickly, something he's been doing more recently; taking more and more jobs, you've begun worrying for his health, not that he'd talk about it, of course. "If I 'ave time."

While you weren't able to get all the details on this excursion, you did manage to get that it was essentially a 'clean-up' for him. He had to go in and make sure that the hostages they'd had a lead on were all rescued and no one was left behind, no assailants or informants lingering or hiding. You've known that his job is hard on him. Losing people can't be easy, especially when you feel like you could've done things differently and changed the ending to their stories. Yet, you also know that throwing yourself into work the way he's been doing without talking to anyone, simply managing to pass debrief counseling by whatever meter their measuring is... not working. Not anymore, at least.

"You're running from this! You won't even answ-" you shout, gesticulating as you do everything in your power to keep the anger and worry that's tightly wound wrapped up in your gut under control, not to let anymore of it seep out than already has.

"An' you're one to talk?! You don't get to interrogate me," he argues, rounding the couch to get closer. The dark circles under his eyes scream volumes, even if he's unwilling to acknowledge whatever's going on for him. "I deal with that enough in my line o' work. Don't-"

"Simon," you say, tone holding that familiar warning tone.

You'd gotten home safely and were able to change and make something to eat. The feelings haven't left the cavity of your chest, still lingering there, the way he always does. He may be 'Ghost' on the field, yet he still haunts your memories, always making you question whether or not you did the right thing. What if only you'd done more? What if you hadn't pushed him so much? It wasn't always in a bad way, either, in fact, most of the time you'd find yourself chuckling randomly at some inside joke only the two of you share, or something he'd find funny. The stolen sweaters and hoodies you know for a fact long ago washed away his scent. Even if you swear sometimes that you can smell the faint odor of cigarettes he used to smoke. In the city when you're out with the girls you'd find yourself fondly inhaling the smell whenever a stranger would be smoking one nearby.

You'd cursed him: Simon Riley. Yet, the aching inside you he left often made you feel like he there's some sense of closure he never fully gave you. The SAS would tell you that he'd get your letters, even if you stopped writing years ago a little while after the split. You never got a response, and you never really expected one. Simon never really was one for letter writing. It was the only way you felt like you could get that closure, that part of your life done with. Ultimately, it did help you move on in some way.

A sigh tumbles past your lips as you change the channel on the television, unsure what you really feel like watching. A reality comedy show is on, something of a local prank show. It wasn't the best show, really, but it's one you used to watch a lot as a kid, and thus, another reminder of him. This one makes you smile, nonetheless. It's a good memory; nostalgia envelopes you in the way that makes you crave times that felt easier. Just when you wrap yourself in your fuzzy blanket, there's a soft rapt at the door.

Heart accelerating, eyes widening slightly, you slowly rise from the couch. The television volume isn't on loud, and while there may be light coming from it to inform a stranger you're home, that isn't enough to say that you're alone. With slow and cautious steps, you approach the door, careful to check the window near the door from a vantage point you're unseen. It's a man in a black hoodie. Panic sets in and you turn to skillfully head back toward the couch in search of your phone with quiet and quick steps. That's when it strikes you.

With all pretenses abandoned, you rush to the door and fling it open, lips parted in shock and awe. "Simon?" Searching and attempting to scan the partially shielded face, you're able to see tufts of blonde hair lit from the porch light.

"I know you've no reason to-" he starts, hands removing themselves from his hoodie's pocket, "but please let me come in and explain."

"You came back," you whisper. It's more for yourself than him, and whether it's out of bewilderment, intuitive knowing, or a premonition; you were right.

As he takes a step forward and reaches out for you with shaky hands produced from the familiar black pocket of his hoodie, you don't retract. Slow and tentative movements on both ends, he grabs ahold of one hand, thumb consciously skirting back and forth repeatedly in a form of grounding and seeking comfort. "You were right," his deep voice rasps.

Your hand cautiously seeks his cheek beneath the shield of his hood. Fully expecting to meet the spandex material of his balaclava, you're surprised by the warmth of his skin underneath your gentle touch. Wrist pushing against the cotton hood, it gives way, revealing his face. Searching his deep brown eyes for any sign he's genuine... you're met with truth.

With a weak nod you turn, leaving the door to shut softly behind the two of you.

~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #my writing #song fic #taylor swift #cardigan #simon riley x reader angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #simon ghost riley x ex!reader #simon riley x ex!reader #simon riley x cbf!reader #simon ghost riley x cbf!reader #biker!simon riley #song fics

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flamingpudding · 2 years ago

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 28 - "I may not get another chance to say this."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Plays into the Forgotten Twin AU setting. Basically for this: Danny was sent to the Fentons as a mission when he was seven and Damian forgot about it until someone found an old mission report from Danny. Their first meeting didn't go well… But Damian has his reasons wanting Danny to come to Gotham with him that are not all completely selfish. I tried to make this little scene sort of funny with a bit of angst in it.

"So…" Danny floated next to a giant Cujo while 'sitting' cross legged in the air doing his best to suppress the growing grin on his face. "Are you convinced yet?"

He heard an inaudible grumble and laughed doing a little air flip before 'laying' in the air and resting his head in his hands. "I didn't catch that Dami, can you repeat that?"

"Get him off me!"

"Who? Cujo?" The dog licked Danny across his entire head before laying down on and making himself comfortable on his twin brother who grunted and Danny chuckled. "Didn't you say handling a ghost animal won't be any different than handling an actual animals?"

His twin grunted once more but did not say anything else. Danny grinned as he looked away from Damian and Cujo towards the rest his twin hand brought with him to Amity, he hadn't bothered learning their names when Damian had introduced them the first, second, third and fourth time. All in an attempt to convince him, he was surprised that his biological father didn't appear before him as often as Damian did after he told them no.

Red helmet guy, Danny believed his civilian name was something with J, was currently getting chased around the Main Street by Johnny on his motorcycle and Shadow trying to trip the poor guy up. He had heard the guy curse and complain very loudly that he was not happy about his bullets not working.

Another guy in blue who's hero name was something with Wing but his nickname was Dick, a fun fact that funnily enough made his name the easiest to remember, was currently doing a bunch of flips dodging Skulker. He wasn't entirely sure but with the way Skulker was glaring he was pretty sure that the other ghost was now hunting the guy out of annoyance for real instead of just as a favor to Danny.

The third guy Damian had brought with him to Amity, who's hero name was also that of a dinner, was locked in a weird tech battle with Technus. Danny was pretty sure he had heard that guy yell something about upgrading Wayne Tech to the point that Technus would never be able to take control of it. Good luck with that, Danny thought, so far his parents' and with his own ectoplasm infused tech were the only ones that could resist that ghost's control.

"Danyal, this is ridiculous!" Looking toward Cujo again, Danny found that Damian had managed to dig his way out from under him.

"Well you're the one that bet that you could handle some 'silly' ghosts, to convince me to go to Gotham with you. That there wouldn't be a problem if I left Amity Park behind." Danny moved to float before his brother spread his arms out. "Do you see now that I can't just leave? That I have a responsibility here? That I have a perfectly good life here? You didn't care for years that I lived here and now suddenly out of the blue you keep pestering me to come with you to Gotham."

Danny heard something muffled but he hadn't been able to make out what exactly his twin had said. Instead of asking he slowly floated down until his feet touched the ground and then proceeded to sit with his knees drawn in so that his head could rest on them on the ground. His head was slightly tilted as he watched his twin blankly, the same way grandfather had him do when he had been way younger.

Danny knew this was a habit left over from the League, something Jazz wouldn't have been able to help him get rid off without Damian around.

Damian was obviously struggling, trying to push that giant ghost dog off him so he could have a proper talk with his twin, muttering how a 'ghost' dog could be this heavy or solid. Yet even if Damian was late, there were things he needed to explain. Things he needed Danny to know, things he had only learned after he had started living with father, after he had left the League for good. Even if he didn't deserve his twin's forgiveness, he finally could be the brother his twin deserved. Besides he had made a promise to his twin's sister on his second visit, when Jasmine had been the one to sit him down and talk when Danyal refused. She tried to figure out why Damian had appeared so obsessed about taking Danny with him to Gotham and in the end she had made him promise something for Danyals health.

"I may not get another chance to say this. With you pinned under Cujo and your siblings distracted by my rogues this might be my only chance for now. I was convinced I hated you yet was loyal to a default until Jazz thought me I actually didn't hate you but cared in a messed up way." Danny started watching how his twin stilled. "It took Jazz exactly one year to mostly undo the mindset the league trained into me, she shouldn't have to but she wanted to for her new little brother and took all the steps needed to ensure my mental well being when she was nine and I seven. After that year I was sorta lost. A limbo between wanting a normal life and the duty that had been trained into me towards you. I didn't know what to do and then Tucker picked up the slack, showing me what 'normal' was. Well after I sort of went feral on Dash during my first day in grade school."

Damian looked up at his twin who wasn't even looking at him but sported a far away look. Seeing but unseeing at the same time as he remembered a childhood he knew nothing about. "I kept sending reports, not out of duty but hoping to protect the live Jazz had offered me. When they stopped responding, I also stopped reporting and grew wary."

Laughing humorlessly Danny returned his gaze back on Damian. "At first I believed grandfather gave up on me. That he would send you to kill me. After all, I was just a disposable spare. But no one ever came."

"Me appearing after years must have been shocking." Damian admitted, by now he had given up trying to get that giant dog to move off him, less he embarrassed himself like his elder brothers were currently doing. "That was why you attacked without waiting to hear me out once we were in a secluded area during our first meeting."

"Can't blame me. I thought you were still with the League and brainwashed into the perfect hire grandfather wanted." Damian huffed at that causing Danny to chuckle lightheartedly.

"Valid reasoning." His twin agreed. The half ghost signaled to Cujo, the dog only tilting his head before licking his tongue over the entirety of Danny's head once more, not moving an inch off of Damian. "I would most likely have done the same if the roles had been reversed."

"I got a family here now, Damian and you got yours with our bio-Dad and all the siblings you have been trying to introduce to me." Danny voiced after a moment of silence between them. In that moment Cujo finally changed size and moved to cuddle up to his twin, giving Damian a chance to sit up on his own.

"Danyal."

"No Damian. I will not go with you to Gotham. You tried to show me that others could take care of Amity. But look at those you took with you? They don't even have the equipment needed to handle ghosts." Danny was looking over his shoulder watching Damian's brothers. "Amity Park is my responsibility, the same way Gotham is Batmans."

"It is a responsibility you shouldn't shoulder alone. Father has us in Gotham but who do you have?" Damian watched his twin from the corner of his eyes. "It would be better and safer for you to come with us."

"Damian, I can't just-"

"Jasmine has made me aware of the danger to your physical as well as mental health here the longer you stay. She has inquired with us to see if we could help you to start thinking more about your safety than the safety of everyone around you but yourself."

"Of course Jazz would. Look I can handle my parents and the GIW, it's not like-"

"She has stressed the fact that you have been returning injured more often. Injuries not caused by your ghost rogues." Damian cut him off. "You are a lot more like father than I am but there is one fact we both clearly have inherited from him in the same way?"

"Oh, really now?"

"We are both quite stubborn and won't give up easily." Damian smirked as he stood up and dusted off his pants. He took a couple steps forward towards his elder siblings before turning to look back at his twin. "I believe the bet was that if we could prove to you that other hero's could also handle these ghosts that you would reconsider your stance on coming to Gotham with us?"

"Wha-?"

"IT WORKED! He's in my mini computer! I trapped him in my mini computer!"

"HA! Not so fun getting chased by your own bike, is it?"

"Oh come on dude, this isn't that much of a tied situation. I just roped your own weapon around you. No need to be so headless."

Danny blinked slightly unbelieving, Johnny and Shadow where now the once getting chased around, Technus was apparently stuck in one single little computer and Skulker was tied up with one of his own weapons, aktual Skulker not the hulk of his mech suit.

"Danyal. I… We want to make it up to you. For all the years of mistreatment during our childhood as well as forgetting about your existence for nearly half a decade. All I am asking is to give father and me a chance. According to your sister, your foster parents as well as this GIW organization are posing a threat to you. My siblings are just as capable as father and I, so allow us to help your situation… please."

Once again Danny was blinking in disbelief, this time though he was blinking at his twin he hadn't seen in years, he had sort of resented at first but came to sort of love and miss him through Jazz's constant help and deprogrammed in his childhood.

"Wow… you must have swallowed a lot of your pride to say that." Danny couldn't help but mutter. None of his twin's behavior matched what he remembers from his childhood with the League but maybe it was better this way. What did Jazz tell him a couple days ago? To give it a fresh and new start? To at least listen to them?

"Danyal, if you speak one word of what I told you to any of them, I will kill you."

"And there is the Dami, I remember."

Damian clicked his tongue and Danny laughed as he finally stood up with Cujo in his arms to stand next to his twin.

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