#and i mean. i think constantly about how in motor show he joked that he 'wasnt any good at being depressed'

[purpldawne]

ok so what if. hear me out on this one. midoteto suicide pact.

[poppitron360]

Jason knelt by the memorial. He kept his face solemn and stony, the way he was taught by Lupa to hide his emotions. Never cry. Never show weakness. He laid the flowers across the base of the tombstone, the red and orange petals rustling ever so slightly in the breeze. He took a deep breath, and silently willed his body to stop shaking. He reached out, and traced the indentation of the name and date with his fingers, the tips slightly grazing the rough stone. The light from the candles shone in the bronze lettering, making it glow a fiery orange.

Leonidas Javier Valdez

July 7th 1998 - August 1st 2014

A true hero.

Jason felt the air shift around him as someone knelt next to him. He didn’t look at the person, instead he looked down at the concrete base of the memorial. On the floor by his knee, Piper’s hand crept closer across the stone. She was reaching out for comfort, Jason could see. But he couldn’t take it. If he let himself need her, then he’d break, and that would be weak. He looked back up at the gravestone.

“I-I can’t believe it’s been ten years…” He croaked, trying to string enough words to fill the trembling silence.

“I know,” Piper said, softly.

“He’d be twenty-six now.”

“I know.”

“Did- did you know his real name was Leonidas? before…” he gestured to the headstone.

Piper smiled weakly, “No, I didn’t. He kept that one from us.”

They turned back to the glowing bronze markings on the stone.

“Y’know…” Jason mused, “I think he’d really hate that epitaph. “A true hero” like what does that even mean?”

“It’s way too serious for him,” Piper agreed, “He’d want something funny, lighthearted. Maybe a bad pun, or a cheesy joke.”

“”Leonidas Javier Valdez- Inventor of the Valdezinator, Repair Boy, Taco-miser Extraordinaire!!”” Jason announced, waving his arm in an arc across the sky to deliver his point. Then he looked down, sadly. “He really was a hero, though… He saved so many lives that day. But… I don’t think that’s how he’d want to be remembered.”

“He’d think it was hilarious that they put that on there,” Piper said, “Painting him out to be this big martyr. He’d constantly tease us about it. Oh gods, we’d never hear the end of it.”

They laughed a little. Jason watched as Piper reached out a brushed a small clump of moss off of the stone.

“You’re getting a bit grubby there, bud,” She whispered, “Oh Leo, always covered in dirt and grime…”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

It was all Jason could do to keep breathing. Every day, for the last ten years, ever since Leo’s death, Jason hadn’t been living, he’d just been carrying on. He’d lost everything that day. But he had to keep going. He could not stop, could not break.

Leo was not here as a whole anymore, Jason knew that. But in the hush of the midsummer evening, Jason could see that parts of him were everywhere. He saw it in the candles. Their heat like the warmth of Leo’s skin. The dancing, restless flames like those busy eyes, constantly moving, scanning, making calculations. Jason listened to the crackle and pop of the burning wicks, and he could almost hear his shrill, raspy laugh. The shadows the candles cast were dark and inky, like motor oil and soot that covered Leo’s calloused skin. Around them, the flowers placed against the memorial rippled in the soft breeze, and Jason could see the bounce of a stray curl, the wind in his hair as Festus soared. The creak of the tree branches were the boards on the deck of the Argo, Leo atop the crow’s nest, looking out at the world. The beat of Jason’s heart was the thrum of the engine, Leo’s rhythmic tapping out in morse code to quiet the pistons. A bird chattered in the trees, and Jason could hear Leo cursing in rapid-fire Spanish, frustrated at another clogged toilet or broken mast. It was like the world was flashing Jason that infectious, cheshire-cat grin. All of these parts made up Leo. Jason could feel them. He was here. He was with them. The three of them were together again after all.

Jason watched the sparks from the candlelight dance into the sky, and he felt Leo’s spirit around them.

“Oh, Leo…” Jason spoke to the candles. He spoke to the flower petals. He spoke to the trees, “Stay with me… please.”

Piper put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Do you think he’s in Elysium?” She asked, “We never found a body, never got to do the proper burial rights…”

“We can hope,” Jason replied, “But wherever he is… I think he’s happy.”

Jason closed his eyes, and listened to Leo’s whispers in the air, “I wait for you…”

Held back by the barriers of life and death, Jason waited too. He kept carrying on, waiting for him to reach the end of the road. Waiting out his life, before he could re-unite with his best friend again. His everything.

But Leo had died so that Jason could keep living. Jason was gonna use that gift to do as much good as he can, be the person everyone needed him to be. But when it came to an end, Jason knew he’d be content.

“I will wait for you, Leo…” Jason whispered, almost inaudibly. He hoped Piper wouldn’t hear. “I will wait, I promise. I swear it on the Riven Styx. I will keep breathing, keep going, keep waiting. It won’t be long now.”

Warm summer winds grazed Jason’s cheek. It was like he could feel Leo’s hands cupping his face. “I wait, Jason.”

“Are you in Elysium?” Jason asked to the sky, “Are you happy?”

To Jason’s horror, the voice took on a bitter, more saddened tone. “I wait for you.”

He suppressed a sob. He had to keep it together. Ten years hadn’t made it easier, but Jason had to try. He couldn’t let himself break. He had to keep going. He had to keep breathing. He had to keep waiting. For Leo.

Piper put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. They both looked up at the night sky. Ten years ago today, a fiery explosion had flashed across that patch of the heavens. A boy atop a bronze dragon had given his life to save the world below.

He was only sixteen…

“Hey,” Came a voice behind them. Jason turned, and saw Hazel and Frank climbing up the small hill.

“Glad we could make it,” Frank said, a little breathless from the climb, “Percy and Annabeth are coming, they’re just parking the car.”

Hazel knelt the other side of Jason, Frank next to her. She lay her own flowers on the pile. Frank brought out a candle, and lit it, placing it carefully amongst the others.

“Hey, Leo…” Hazel greeted the headstone, fondly. She gave it a friendly wave.

Frank sat cross-legged. “Good to see you, bud,” He whispered.

The four of them sat around the place in silence. Soon, Percy and Annabeth came and joined them. Percy put his arms around Jason and Piper’s shoulders, and squeezed them, tight. Piper put hers around Annabeth, so they sat in a line, linked. Hazel wrapped her arm around Frank. Frank reached a meaty hand out and placed it on the top of the grave. He held it there, gripping the stone. Jason took the message, and linked arms with Hazel.

They bathed in the heat of the candles. They listened to rustle of the leaves and the creak of the branches and the chattering of the birds. Jason knew they felt, just as he did, the spirit of Leo all around them. The warmth. The laugh. The restless energy. They heard him whisper, and giggle, and tap out a message. They held him in their circle of arms, felt his soul join with them.

“I wait for you all… one day, we could be re-united for realsies. I will enjoy this moment until then.”

Jason let out one, strangled sob. “I will wait for that day, Leo.”

But for now, he was here. The seven of them, together again, for one night.

————————

Happy Leo’s death day, everyone!!!

Enjoy a “What if Leo had actually died” AU- ft. much Valgrace.

@lavenderfairiez @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @imnoturfriend-im-a-swiftie13 @euryvices @ottpopfic @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls

[the-firebird69]

There are a few things to talk about our son situation seems to always deteriorate rather than get any better they don't like you don't like what you're doing here sitting here extorting him and it's worse than before and he's right there too many parameters there's too many things out there and we need to reduce threat and we're going to go ahead and do that and we're going to make sure that you pay for what you're doing we need you to understand that you're being watched everything that you do is watched and this episode with the ebike issue with the battery. You're going to have to pay for it and we're going to have to reduce your income of course BG was involved but our son needed a break from climbing up on that thing yet the way you did it was unwelcome and you're messing around with the credit card and you're bringing everything down to the last second and you're constantly trying to make him sick and you're all dying and you're disgusting you're not getting squat you're a repulsive bunch of s*** what we're going to do is talk about how to free you from being alive we don't need you here and we're going to start doing stuff to you real soon

-we have a few things to discuss and he needs help and we need to start doing things and not complain and what he's saying is we need to act to change it complaining is not going to change it and we're going to do that right now we are enacting some programs here the ships are too close they're in violation of every treaty there is on Earth with everybody about these spaceships and the guy doesn't listen to anybody we have to use absolute force and we're going to on him and others like John remillard this guy is going to die and it will be Tommy f and he's going to try and get into the apartment and we're going to have to force him out and it's ridiculous it's one stupid bad joke after another so we're going to go after the max and others who are promoting this kind of behavior on what really is a 3-year-old body with a young young man who's 55 years old compared to you you're ridiculous people he says to us I want all this action and I'm forced to do tons of stuff and we're hiring massive armies because of You morons there's no way to explain it to you except to defeat you completely stick you in a cage and show you what we did and we're going to have to do that he says and that's the way it is they're very dumb they're obtuse they don't know how to fix things they don't know how to do things correctly and sit there and try and persuade you emotionally and it hasn't f****** worked practically ever there's no teaching them they have to learn the hard way if there's a concrete wall they're going to sit there for 50 years looking at it thinking they can get through it and I'm actually seeing something you people are very dumb you're extremely stupid and what it seems right we should take advantage of it and we must and we have to get the numbers up there that's what we're going to do you want to fight each other that's fine we really needed you to and we should be happy about it and actually we're saying we're not it is just a mess and we have to fix it and we have to get there and we have to get above it and we're going to right now we are going to have to piggy back to this ebike it's selling too many we did it with the aristo motor and we have we have trillions of them out there this one's a better bike it goes further it's made for men and women it folds there's almost nothing wrong with it if you put a shock on it the gears will get messed up so you can't so the seat kind of bounces a little I mean it's almost perfect except they come with nobbies that's about it it's really the best they can get so we're going to work on that and we have other things to do today

-one thing is we do not appreciate your attitude here you are a bunch of dangerous mofo and you keep saying it and saying it and saying it and it's ridiculous we do not want to hear from you about all this dumb s*** you're talking about we don't think you understand how to do practically anything right and our son worries about doing things correctly and you're giving him s*** because he's trying to do it right you know about the battery we know how to charge it correctly and he's wondering if he should give it a break and we think he should and then do the other one later and the brand new they don't fill up sometimes and you don't have to charge it all the way

-further we don't appreciate your talk your looks you're rolling your eyes your childish a****** comments you people have no lives at all you're these rich idiots you're not smart enough to know what to do with the money in your current situation and what you're saying all the time is you'd rather die than try and figure anything out might hurt you to try and think and we don't need you we really don't the effort is way too much to bother with all the s*** you come up with and he wants to help me to help him test his bike so I'm going to do that

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues

They're trying to suck the fun out of everything and we really have to concentrate here if we have a complaint we have to address it properly and really if our system is not working right we have to have a series of meetings and not feel a bashed about having them

Hera

I'm going to do that then we're going to set up a series of meetings it's not going right on the money and it's pretty far off so we're going to have to do that it's a good idea and we're going to put some effort in and it's a lot better to get team teamwork and assistance and I'm trying to take it all on and manipulate and it's not working that well

Thor Freya

We're going to the meetings and we're going to start working here more so we see what he's doing and saying he's trying to get us to move on it because it's heinous and we're also going through it too and we know it's heinous when he's sounding the alarm we do act but it's really not as much as we could be doing

Nuada Arrianna

We need to Target whether it's effective and use it we know what we can do do and get away with and we're going to work within those and test it and come up with a program testing as well there's no sense in not doing it both

Savage Oppress

What are you saying is we have a lot of stuff that works and we're not deploying it and it's approved we need to know why and we have other things we can test while we're doing it but we need to have some sort of large mobilization here and our son and daughter say we have a plan to do it and we need to break it open and start doing it now's the Time even though it doesn't seem it the idiots are isolated in bunkers he's morons are covered the whole system is set up for it and we're going to go ahead with it now

Olympus

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Hironette

Marinette graduated high school at sixteen before moving to San Fransokyo with Luka. With promises from both Kagami and Chloe that they'd join them in a year. Jagged and Penny both helped them find a home that would fit four. Marinette did not think he would buy them a mansion, but she really should've seen it coming. Their neighbors were the Fredericksons. A wealthy family, that Jagged had known for a while. Penny also helped them with the emancipation papers since both were sixteen and seventeen respectively.

She also helped Marinette set up her new shop right next to the Lucky Cat Cafe. The shop was ready and running after only two months, and Marinette had enough workers that she didn't even need to be there everyday. Luka was her main model while he was on breaks from his concerts with Jagged.

Marinette absolutely adored San Fransokyo, the city was beautiful and had so many places filled with creation energy. She also loved her neighbor Fred, his obsession with heros helped inspire her with a few outfits. Her and Fred hung out anytime he wasn't at San Fransokyo Institute of Science. She was surprised to find out he doesn't attend the school but all his friends do.

Fred loved the awesome girl that lived next door to him. He was constantly telling the crew about her, to the point they pretty much demanded to meet the 'angel who's cooking could end a war'.

Fred- Sure thing dudes! If we head out now we can catch her as she closes her shop! Let's roll!

When they arrive they are all confused on why they are at the Lucky Cat Cafe. Fred just snorts before entering the shop next to the cafe. Loudly announcing himself causing Marinette to leave the back room excitedly.

Hiro's eyes widened as he stepped behind Wasabi panicking to himself.

Hiro-No, no, no! I am not ready to talk to her yet!? Oh my god what do I do!?

Baymax- Your heartbeat is rising to a worrying level, and your temperature is getting higher. Should I set up a doctor appointment?

Hiro- What? No! Baymax I’m fine! I just well, I may have a tiny crush on the girl in there and I am panicking a little.

Baymax- Accessing the internet about crushes. After a brief search, I have determined that the best solution to your predicament is to tell the female your feelings and ask her on a date. Statistics have shown a fifty percent chance that she’ll say yes.

hiro-What-no! Baymax just stop!

Honey, Go Go, and Wasabi stare at Hiro and Baymax for a bit before beginning to laugh silently to themselves.

Honey places her hands on Hiro's shoulders pushing him towards MDC Boutique. She pushes him when he starts panicking again, telling him to just be himself. Marinette slimes brightly at them as they walk in, Fred introduces everyone. MArinette is immediately taken by Baymax when he gently grabs her hand, bandaging a few cuts she from sewing earlier. She gushes over him before turning to Hiro asking all about his primary functions. Hiro stutters at first before launching into a long explanation about Baymax functions and how he was made. By the time he is finished Jagged Stone is already waiting outside for her. Marinette blinks in surprise before inviting them all over for dinner.

Wasabi- We’d love to but we barely fit in my car on the way here.

Marinette-Oh you don’t have to worry about it! My Uncle is waiting for me outside, we can all ride with him!

Wasabi- What do you mean ride with him-is THAT A LIMO!?

Marinette laughed ushering them out before locking the store up. The driver opened the door greeting Marinette politely. She gets in and soon the others follow everyone but Fred, marinette, and Baymax staring at Jagged Stone in shock.

Go Go-Jagged Stone is your Uncle?

Marinette- Well not really but he kind of unofficially adopted me as his niece and it stuck. Jagged meet my new friends!

Jagged- Rock on! Anyone friends with my rockstar niece is welcome around me!

The ride is filled with laughter and jokes until they arrive at the Mansion. Luka and Penny waiting on the steps for them. Once out of the car Marinette gives Lukas a big hug, causing Hiro to frown thinking Marinette was already dating someone.

Penny and Luka greeted them happily before inviting them inside saying dinner was almost done. Marinette introduced everyone and then showed them around the manson. She stopped at their main hangout area allowing everyone to spread out. It was Honey that asked them if Marinette and Luka were dating causing them to both start laughing.

Luka- I love Marinette and her song is so beautiful. However she is not the one for me you see because I assure you everyday I am gay.

Marinette hit him with a pillow laughing telling him to stop rhyming. Before turning to them smiling and saying that they only think of each other as siblings. This piece of information lifts Hiro’s spirits and he begins talking even more to Marinette, unaware of Luka’s knowing smile aimed at him.

Over the next few weeks Marinette spends more and more time with the group. Even going over to the Institute of Science on her off days to see their experiments. Along with visiting the cafe on her lunch breaks and after she has closed.

Her and Hiro grow closer and closer, however neither can find it in them to admit their crush, which exasperates their friends to no end. That is until Marinette and Luka are involved in a terrible car accident on the way back from one of Luka’s concerts. 

A drunk driver blew a red light slamming into the side of their limo causing it to roll twice and land on its roof. 

Their driver is only knocked out on impact with a broken wrist. Marinette and Luka are not as lucky they did not have seatbelts on in the back of the limo. In the end they were violently thrown around the back. Luka comes out of it with a broken leg, left arm and nose sling with a broken rib that pierced his lung. Marinette breaks her leg in three places, three ribs and dislocates her left shoulder. Both of them are covered in bruises and bleeding. 

They are rushed to the hospital and into surgery, while in surgery the Doctors do their best to fix their major injuries before working to pull all the broken glass out of their skin. It was in the surgery that they discovered Marinette had suffered from a spinal injury as well. Jagged and Penny have them put in the same room together, but they don’t wake up the next day, in fact they don’t wake up a week later.

After a few days the Doctor determined that both of them had entered a coma, because of how badly they were injured. Everyone was heartbroken when the Doctor explained that if the two did wake up they may not even remember themselves. Then he tells them of Marinette’s spinal injury, telling them that until she wakes up they wont know if she’ll ever be able to walk again.

They remain in a coma for two months being visited everyday by their friends and family. Hiro visits consistently every day with Baymax always sitting by Marinette’s bed. After a week he begins talking or reading to her, after Baymax says that there are a few reports of people being able to hear what's going on around them the entire time. At one point he confesses his feelings to her begging her to wake up so that he can find out if she feels the same.

Luka wakes up first extremely confused. The only thing missing from his memory is the night the crash happened. Everyone is ecstatic and greets him with hugs and tears explaining what happened. After a few days he begins physical therapy, during one of his sessions Hiro is with Marinette again. This time he is telling her how he felt for her and how he would purposely walk past her boutique before they met just to see her. He holds her hand gently telling her again that he loves her. He is greatly surprised when MArinette’s hand squeezes back weakly. When he looks up at her she is smiling weakly, her eyes barely opened as she responds her voice breaking slightly.

Marinette- I love you too…

Her wake up is met with more tears especially when she realizes she can’t feel her legs. A month later they are released from the hospital both leaving in a wheelchair but only one remaining in it. MArinette is heartbroken and drops into a depressive state for a while, but Hiro refuses to leave her side. He is over every day always sitting by her while drawing up designs for a new invention, something to help Marinette feel independent once again.

Hiro creates a motorized wheelchair that can lift Marinette higher when she needs to grab something. He creates a neural transmitter that is fitted as a headband, with the headband Marinette can move the wheelchair in whatever dissection she needs. He immediately begins building it, with the help of the others. He finishes it a month later and gives it to Marinette smiling nervously. When Marinette moves in her wheelchair she begins crying and thanking him. She begins leaving the house with him more slowly leaving her depressive state. A year after they start dating Marinette introduces the entire group to the Kwami. Tikki absolutely adores them, given that they are all creation souls. Plagg warms up to both Hiro and Fred loving their loud personalities.

Fred goes crazy when he realizes that Marinette was THE Ladybug. Causing Marinette and Tikki to giggle until she points out that Luka was Viperion causing Fred to freak out more.

Luka- I wonder if he is going to react the same to Chloe and Kagami.

This caused Marinette to snort laughing hard, causing the others to join soon after.

Fred- Is seriously no one else totally stoked to find out they are heroes?!

Go Go- Fred you idiot! We were heroes too!?

Fred- Oh ya I forgot, this is still really awesome though! Like when I found out my dad was a hero!!

Marinette- Mr. Fredrickson is a hero?? Huh, I never saw that coming.

@justafanwarrior

[fandom-necromancer]

Let your Warmth melt my Ice

You all know I like emotional destruction, right? Well strap in, because this post by the amazing @nock-and-bolt hit me right in the feels. Had to write a short to it. Also tagging @janjan-the-ninth because they said so XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Temporary character death, grief, misunderstanding)

[Warning: Critical damage detected. Shutdown imminent.]

Nines was already on the ground by the time he had realised those bullets had indeed hit him and that there had been more enemies than anticipated as he had rushed in. He still heard the gunshots around him, the people shouting, barking orders and screaming in pain. His systems were still busy locating each position and making tactical calculations based on this information. Still prompting him to continue, to shield his friends and protect them. Apparently, his systems hadn’t caught up with the fact that he was minutes from death. True death. This body wasn’t able to function anymore and the loss of Thirium meant his hardware would run hot and eventually melt. There was no way for him to survive this.

His fingers started to spasm from wires shortcutting. His vision glitched and his analysis program darted from one detail to the next. Was there still gunfire? It was hard to concentrate, to filter sensory information and not get lost in a confusing mess of signalling. He felt how some non-vital systems began to shut off and left his mind a little less crowded, a little less confusing. Gavin, his thoughts managed to form conscious words again. Where was he? Was he safe? He tried saying the name, forming it with his voicebox but never hearing it as his auditory systems malfunctioned briefly. Next were his legs and torso, but he never regained feeling there. He was about to try again, as a face appeared in his vision.

‘Nines? Nines!’ Those words were like balm on his soul. Those special sounds only the human could speak like that, this special melody they used to create meaning. This name he had been given by the same person that meant so much to him. ‘Nines! Can you hear me? Nines?’ The android registered he was lifted up by Gavin and propped against a wall. He could see the human touch his wounds and press his hands on them as if that would help in any way. ‘Nines! Phcking asshole, say something!’ Nines tried once again to say his name, but his voicebox was already damaged, only static making it out of the small speaker. If anything, it made the human even more anxious. ‘Nines. Nines, phck!’

[Warning: Commencing Shutdown. Begin upload?]

Upload. Right. Nines knew it was likely for nothing. He was the only model ever produced and therefore unique. But still, an upload of his memories and personality matrix was something to continue living with. If what they did was living and if their programming was a soul like most humans were proclaiming, then maybe the upload could safe him. Keep him alive, even if there was no immediate body to switch to. Maybe someone valued him enough to rebuild or design anew.

Gavin certainly would.

Gavin.

[Upload started… 1%]

‘Nines, what’s going on? Your LED flickers! What- No.’ Nines managed to lift his eyes to the human’s face. He was kneeling next to him, holding him upright against the wall and trying frantically to stop the blood flow. If he had been human, it might have worked. ‘No, no, no, you are not dying! You are not!’ His face showed despair, shock, pain. All for him. All Nines had ever wanted for him was to be happy. Now he was the reason he wasn’t.

[Upload at 26%]

Nines didn’t want to see him like this. Nines wanted to see his smile again. Those green eyes sparkling in the light of the sun when they spent their break outside on the bench. He wanted to hold his human and comfort him. He wanted to be there for him. He wanted to make sure he was safe on future missions. He wanted to reach the day when he could finally tell him what he was sure Gavin never wanted to hear. He wanted to… do so many things. ‘Nines! Please. Tell me what to do! Cyberlife’s contacted, Jericho too. Help’s on the way. Hold on. Stay with me.’ There were tears on the man’s face as he swallowed and looked at him in panic. Don’t panic, Nines wanted to say. You will live, he thought. I protected you. But those words were never spoken.

[Upload at 63%]

Nines felt more and more systems shut down due to overheating and misfiring of vital sensors. It wasn’t long now, and he needed his last moments to remember. His eyes had never left Gavin’s, but now the android tried to form a smile on his face that he hoped to express everything it needed to. Hoping that it would calm down the human and be how he remembered him. As long as he still could, Nines lifted his arm and hated how it jerked back and forth and never reached its goal. His motor control was malfunctioning and the servo itself too damaged to work at full capacity. Nines’ arm hovered over his chest, reaching for Gavin’s face. Thankfully the human got the message and took his arm to help him direct it so his hand cupped his cheek.

Warm. Nines had been fascinated from the start how warm humans could be. Like they were constantly overheating and radiating their energy into the world. Those creatures couldn’t be described better in his eyes. Exhaling love with every breath and being compassionate beings always looking out for the wellbeing of others, even when the person was described as an asshole, like Gavin. Gavin cared. He was just hurt one too many times and now Nines would add to it.

[Upload at 82%]

‘Nines! Nines, stay with me.’ Nines followed a tear that was rolling down from Gavin’s cheek and stopped as it hid his hand. His robotic hand. He hadn’t realised his skin had retracted, but he was showing off his white plastic hull on his entire body by now. When had that process shut down? ‘You bastard! Stay with me! Don’t you dare phcking dying on me!’ The android felt how he lost power over his body and sacked down, but Gavin was reacting fast, catching him and holding him in his arms. The man grabbed his arm and pulled it over Nines’ chest. ‘Nines! I swear, if you die on me, I will kill you!’ Could he still do that, Nines would have laughed. Only Gavin would curse at him, threaten him in his dying seconds.

[Upload at 96% Shutdown imminent]

Nine’s vision was getting hazy, static filling it and only leaving him his area of focus: Gavin’s panicked face. He couldn’t feel the warmth of Gavin’s touch anymore, could only see and hear. ‘Nines, please. Please, I need you, you plastic prick! Don’t you dare do this to me!’

[Upload finished. Shutting down…]

Gavin lifted him to his chest and buried his face in Nines’ drenched clothes. ‘You can’t leave me, you phcking asshole! Because I… I love you.’

Nines hadn’t had any more time to process this.

[Shutdown]

-

Gavin’s day had been completely normal. It was surprising how normal his days had been lately. People around him were chatting, laughing at each other’s jokes and discussing the new shop around the corner. He was driving through a city that continued life as usual whenever he got to work or back home. Crime scenes were coming up and vanishing, cases came and went. Reports were written and evidence filed. But the chair in front of Gavin stayed empty. The terminal remained switched off.

All the little trinkets Nines had gathered on his desk and considered skilful decoration gathered dust. No one had the heart to put them away. Just as no one had thought to hire a new person. Not when there still was a chance that Nines could come back. Gavin looked down on his hands that mindlessly fidgeted with a small ring. Normally shining blue, yellow or lastly red, it was now just a dark circle in white plastic. But it was something to cling to, something to remember. Just in case. Just in case Nines didn’t come-

No. No, he had to. The android had uploaded his personality to Cyberlife as a failsafe. And although there was no body for him, Jericho had bullied the company to build a new one. With the blow Cyberlife had to take to their image, it hadn’t taken much. Gavin had hope they could make it. Maybe it was all he had. In any scenario, he had never thought for the android to die first. Almost completely bullet proof, the chance of him dying… Well, Gavin had considered it zero at this point. That was about the only reason he hadn’t said what he told the dying android long ago. Thinking they had time…

He sighed deeply, looking over to his mug and tilting it a bit to look inside. Empty. Of course. He groaned. He really didn’t want to get out of his chair. He had no motivation for anything anymore and even a trip to the breakroom could as well had been a journey around the earth. The more surprised he was as a new mug was placed next to his. Steaming and filled to the rim. Gavin looked at it, brain lagging behind. The hand that was holding the handle lingered for just a second, then retracted. Gavin’s eyes followed the movement and were directed to a white uniform. Black details at the opening and the pockets, a ridiculously high collar and then… That stupidly beautiful face.

Gavin’s throat went dry. ‘Nines?’, he croaked disbelievingly. ‘Are you… phck, are you Nines?’ The android in front of him lowered his head a bit, then nodded. ‘Yes. It’s me. Cyberlife rebuild my body and I thought to return to work as soon as possible. I left you long enough with both our-‘ He couldn’t finish, as Gavin stood up and grabbed him by the jacket to push him against the glass separating the desk from the hallway. ‘You asshole died in my arm and all you can think about is work?’ He let go of the android, swallowing his emotions. Damn, the android had just returned from the dead, he should be happy. ‘I… I’m sorry for the trauma I’ve caused you. I’m fine again. I just thought we could get back to normal?’

Gavin looked at the android and swallowed for real this time. Hell, how would dying feel like? All Gavin wanted to do is shake Nines and tell him how relieved he was and how good it was to see him again and how bad he managed living on without him and also ask how he felt about what Gavin had asked him in the very end. Because he was ready to make up excuses for that, if the android didn’t feel that way and oh would it help him if Nines felt the same…

But exactly how Gavin managed trauma like that – with his thoughts running at hundred miles an hour and his only reaction anger and brashness – Nines might need the exact opposite: Calmness and time to think and reset. He was an android after all. Maybe all that programming and logic had some use after all. Gavin nodded and instead hugged Nines’ middle. ‘It’s good to have you back, tin-can.’ The android didn’t move to return the hug but stood there rather awkwardly. ‘Thanks…’ Gavin stepped back and let go of the man. ‘Err… yeah, sure. Let’s… let’s get back to work, shall we? And if you… want to talk about what happened or… what that makes you feel… I’m right here.’ ‘Thank you’, Nines smiled and that smile almost made everything alright again.

The android moved over to his terminal, switched it on and interfaced with it, while dusting off his belongings with the other hand. Gavin too returned to his work. As if it was just another day.

-

Nines was thankful to be back. He remembered not believing it might work, but Cyberlife had harboured his soul in their servers and Jericho had actually managed to move them to build a new body for him. It felt like he had never been gone, as he stepped foot back into the precinct. He had of course been the centre of attention then, but he still managed to surprise Gavin and that was all he had needed to feel that warmth again. As the human had hugged him… It had been heaven on earth. Metaphorically. From his own experience if android heaven was a dusted Cyberlife server, then this was much better.

He had enjoyed the unexpected contact far too much, his systems overwhelmed by the sudden motions that he had actually frozen for a few moments. He was actually surprised Gavin had taken it so well. From his last memories before his deactivation, he had expected there to be more tears… more emotions. But then again, maybe Gavin had already grieved for him. It had been two weeks after all. Maybe he had just been relieved he was back and now was eager to get back to normality. Or he suppressed his emotions as usual until they weren’t too intense to handle. Either way, Nines wouldn’t start a conversation with him, not unless he initiated one first. He had caused the human his pain after all. Gavin would have to chose when was the right time.

Unfortunately, even the next day, nothing changed. Gavin had no interest in opening the talk and even seemed to avoid him. If anything, he was growing more distant, seemingly wanting to tell him something when he left for his home, but never actually speaking up. It hurt. It hurt somewhere deep inside Nines. The android was feeling so much, even looking at the human caused him software instability. But he didn’t dare to tell the man. Gavin hadn’t said something when he was in emotional turmoil because of his impending death. Surely, he would have done that if he felt something. And with how he always pulled a face at seeing publicly displayed affection, maybe he didn’t want to hear it either.

Nines loved the human. He wanted to deepen their relationship. He had died to protect Gavin and he would do so again and again, if he had to. But with how Gavin kept to himself and didn’t even acknowledge him some days, Nines really doubted that was what the human wanted.

-

Gavin was beyond disappointed. He would have been angry hadn’t that felt too much of a defeat. The android had had the audacity to die in his arms catching multiple bullets for him and then ghost him like that? Gavin had confessed his love to the plastic prick in a moment of vulnerability and now the damn android just pretended nothing had happened? “Detective”-d him at any given moment and displayed no more emotion than before their mission? Hell, if he wasn’t interested, Nines could have just said so. This was just an asshole move. And two could play that game of ignorance. It didn’t matter to Gavin that his soul was bleeding with every stumbled ‘Oh. Okay.’ from the android whenever Gavin shoved him away further. He was far too angry for it. And it only got worse during the week.

Friday finally was the day, that promised Gavin refuge. He wouldn’t have to see the android on the weekend and have time to come to terms with his contradicting feelings. Then, on Monday, he would just tell the android and be done with it. No more dancing around each other, trying to find out how the other felt and watch out for the other’s wellbeing. He decided to leave early and switched off his computer grabbing his jacket as he stood up. ‘Gavin?’ Oh hell no. If the android continued to speak with him, he would resort to violence at this point. He was hurt and confused and done, so, so done with it all. So, he just turned around and left. Only once he left the building and heard the door fall into the lock behind him, he sighed and took a deep breath of the grounding cold February air.

He shouldn’t have stopped. ‘Gavin!’ The door behind him opened and Nines stumbled out of it, coming to a halt everything but gracefully. His LED was a dark red and Gavin didn’t want to think of what that reminded him of. ‘What do you want?’, Gavin spat. ‘I want to talk with you. About what happened. I held myself back until now because I know this might have been traumatic for you and-‘ ‘Phck off! You died in my arms! You know, you are right, that might have been traumatic for me, phckhead!’ ‘I apologize for that, but-‘ ‘Oh, you apologize?’ Gavin turned around and walked right into the android’s personal space. ‘You apologize? For what exactly? Dying? Ignoring me? Disregarding that I laid out my heart in front of you and you decided to step on it?’

Nines took a step back and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘What- What do I mean?’, Gavin wheezed in disbelief. ‘Ex-phcking-cuse me? I mean that I told you I love you! You died in my arms and I thought if this was your last moment and you died for me, I could as well tell you that! Maybe made it a bit easier for you. Less hurtful. Phck, what have I been thinking? You are just a damn machine, you don’t phcking feel. Or at least not in that way. Because hell, I tell you that, let you into my heart and when you come back, you hand me a coffee and go straight back to work?’

‘Wait’, Nines said, holding up his hand. ‘Wait, Gavin. Your last words to me were: “Don’t you dare do this to me!”’ He blinked. ‘Or were they?’ Gavin clenched his jaws. ‘No, asshole they weren’t! My last words to you were that I loved you!’ ‘When was that? Right before I shut down? Was my LED still flickering?’ ‘How the hell should I know?’, Gavin asked, throwing his hands in the air. ‘You were dying in my arms; I don’t think I had more important things on my mind than your stupid mood light!’ ‘Gavin, this is important’, Nines said, stepping forwards and holding the man by the shoulders. ‘Was it less than two seconds before my body went rigid?’ Gavin shrugged. ‘Yeah, could be. Why?’

Nines let go of him and had to sit down on the stairs in front of the station. ‘Gavin, I uploaded my memory to Cyberlife as soon as I knew I would die. It recorded everything up to two seconds before my death, because it takes a bit of time to end the Upload and shut down the body. I… I might have heard it and understood it as I was dying, but I… the backup of me that I am now has no memory of you telling me that.’

Gavin stared at the android and processed what he just heard. Then he sat down next to Nines on the stairs and stared blankly ahead. ‘Phck.’ ‘Fuck indeed.’ ‘And all the time I thought you were just a work-centred prick ignoring me.’ ‘I wouldn’t have ignored it had I known it, Gavin, I’m sorry.’ Gavin rubbed his face in frustration. Phck, he just wanted this day to be over.

But Nines didn’t let him end it just yet. He cleared his throat and looked over at the human that had nearly folded in on himself. ‘Err… Do you… Do you really love me?’ Gavin lifted his head up, his fingers resting on his mouth. He looked at Nines from the corner of his eyes, only then letting his hands slap on his knees. ‘Yes, I guess’, he sighed. ‘No, yeah I do. I was so angry at you all phcking week it won’t be a heartfelt confession now, but I do love you. The way you’re just… Always there for me and care so much. Most would just pretend not to have seen me and move on. You sought me out. You are actually funny and intelligent and competent. And you are phcking hot, okay? I feel so much for you and seeing you die… I couldn’t handle it. I think the hope you would come back to me kept me going.’ There was a brief moment of silence.

‘I love you too, Gavin’, Nines answered in a whisper. ‘I can’t understand how I am the one lucky enough to got to know you when so many others had their chance before me, but I am happy fate chose me. I… I can’t express how I feel as I shouldn’t be feeling at all as an android. But I do and I wanted to tell you for so long. I just always thought you didn’t want to hear something like that…’ ‘Nines?’, the human spoke up and turned towards him. Nines followed his movement and his eyes naturally found their way to Gavin’s, who smiled. ‘Nines, this was the only thing I ever needed to hear.’

Nines blinked, but didn’t have the time to answer, as Gavin laid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Once again, Nines froze up, but Gavin’s warmth quickly made him melt into the touch. Soon enough, he would have to think about all of this to process what he just heard, but for now…

For now, he enjoyed this.

[warsmith-38]

How I would do RWBY pt. 1

Revised Timeline of story events (This is not a script, but a semi-loose outline of the story)

Red, White, Blake, and Yellow trailers can stay. They’re perfectly fine as is, barring some early series production foibles (and the voice acting).

Series would be split into three arcs with three seasons each. 1. The School Arc 2. The World Travel Arc 3. The War Arc. (4. The epilogue season of mini episodes just to cap a few things off)

School Arc.

Season One.

Ruby is shopping.

Roman tries robbing the place.

Ruby gets involved because ‘fight good yes’.

Fights Roman and goons.

Beats goons but starts losing against Roman.

Glynda intervenes.

Roman am-scrays and Ruby is detained by Glynda.

This is not the first time Ruby has been called in like this.

She’s been doing free-lance vigilante stuff for a while now.

Tai comes in, worried to hell and back… again.

It’s almost routine by now, but he has a heart attack each time.

Ozpin gets wind of it this time.

Is impressed by her and offers her position at school.

Ruby says yes.

Tai says Ruby is too young to be-

Ruby says yes.

Tai keeps trying to argue-

Ruby. Says. YES!

She wants to be a huntress like her mother was more than anything else in the world.

Next few days is various entities trying to get Tai to greenlight the idea.

Ruby constantly begs, Yang says it’s a good idea, Ozpin is quite forward as to the benefits, et cetera.

Tai relents when Qrow calls him and argues that Ruby is never going to stop her vigilante thing and should at least be doing it legally and with training.

Tai tells Yang to watch over Ruby.

Yang only promises to try.

Ruby instantly loses her after they arrive at Beacon.

Yang tried, just not very hard. Wants Ruby to be independent, both from her and Tai.

Ruby meets Weiss.

Carefree and rebellious Ruby immediately clashes with stuck-up and bad-tempered Weiss.

Blake intervenes, slags off the SDC, everyone walks away annoyed.

Ruby meets Jaune.

Jaune is less bumbling.

More of an Octavian figure. Meek of body, but quite strong of tactical and strategic mind.

Jaune meets Pyrrha.

Has no idea who she is. Not all that into celebrity gossip, especially whole kingdoms away.

Comes off as polite and charming, if a bit oblivious.

Ruby encounters Blake on her own.

Says thanks for helping ward off angry Weiss.

Blake seems a little standoffish but Ruby’s infectious friendliness makes her give her a chance.

Have actual conversation about books.

Have minor debate over the exact meaning behind the symbolism of a character in a story.

Y’know, nerd shit.

Orientation.

Ruby and Weiss talk again.

Goes roughly as canon. IE: poorly.

Ren and Nora introduced, again, roughly as canon.

Ren talks a bit more, less of Nora motor-mouth with him just being there.

Have brief conversations with Jaune and/or Pyrrha.

Relic hunt starts.

Catapult!

Ruby and Weiss meet each other faster than usual.

Grimm show up and they kill them together.

Weiss calls her an idiot but agrees that she’s at least competent in a fight.

Blake and Yang meet each other.

Have actual conversation.

Blake tries to be standoffish and curt but Yang’s winning smile and corny sense of humor makes it hard.

Jaune and Pyrrha meet again.

Jaune has actual plan to get relic.

Have conversation about aura and semblances in a way that doesn’t make Jaune seem like he was dropped multiple times on his head as a child.

Says that he hasn’t unlocked his semblance yet, but he says that he scored high enough on his aptitude tests to make up for it.

Ren and Nora meet up because… well, duh.

Meet Jaune and Pyrrha and decide to team up to speed the overall process up.

Bumble into pissing off giant grimm.

Ruby and Weiss start arguing, come to brief blows even.

Teenagers, am I right?

Big grimm shows up.

They bond a little by fighting it off together.

Main characters start to coalesce at the relic site.

Future JNPR is there too.

Everyone has brief hello with each other.

The two large grimm from earlier show up.

Each would-be team gets one.

Happy teamwork scene.

Kill the grimm, get the relics, same old shit.

Teams RWBY and JNPR are made official.

Team CFVY are present as the designated senpai group.

Cue bonding scenes.

Ruby and Blake create book club with Ren, Jaune, and Yatsuhashi.

Yang, Fox, and Ren have Kung-Fu training scenes.

Velvet passes around the collection plate for Wild Call, a large and helpful faunus rights group.

Blake and Velvet are kind of tense with each other. No one knows why.

Then again, Blake is pretty tense with everyone, but especially Velvet and Weiss.

(Velvet knows that Blake is a faunus and dislikes that she hides it. Blake dislikes Weiss because Schnee.)

Ruby is happy to talk to Coco-senpai and her crazy purse mini-gun.

Nora, Yang, and Pyrrha have push up contest. Ruby wins.

Weiss helps Ruby study with things like flash cards, note taking strategies, and other things she ignores.

Weiss has tense moment or two with Ruby but Yang delivers some context as to why Ruby is so unruly.

Mom died, dad got WAY overprotective of Ruby and more than a little distant with Yang.

Ruby always wanted to be like her badass of a mother and saw their father as being in the way of that.

Weiss empathizes to a degree.

Weiss and Yang team up to be the semi-responsible ones for Ruby.

CRDL are cunts.

Act racist to Velvet.

Push Jaune and Ruby around a little.

Say ungentlemanly things to Yang and Pyrrha. (They do it to all of the girls, but to them the most)

Cunt stuff.

CVFY can’t do much because A. They can’t be brawling with underclassmen and B. They wouldn’t be able to not kill the little pricks and that’d be a bad look for them.

JNPR is just trying to ignore them.

This leads to a confrontation between CRDL and RWBY.

They make a bet over a set of sparring matches.

If CRDL wins then RWBY has to operate as their maids or something creepy like that for the school year.

If RWBY wins then CRDL has to fuck off for the school year.

Best of four matches with a team battle if a tiebreaker is needed.

Ruby actually loses to Cardin due to his tankiness, him being the most (IE: only) competent part of his team, and secret cheating.

Weiss beats Russel rather handily.

Blake loses to Dove due to him cheating and everyone still not noticing yet.

Yang traumatizes Lark as a warning.

Team battle!

CRDL takes an early advantage due to RWBY having some coordination issues.

RWBY figures out that CRDL is cheating via wire tapping into their team communications.

Ruby takes the reigns.

Coordinates with her team via code with an old inside joke to Yang, a literary reference to Blake, and one of those studying tricks to Weiss.

They act in ways that CRDL aren’t expecting and can’t cheat around.

RWBY wins.

Yang and Blake take CRDL aside and threaten them that if they renege at all they will make what Yang did to Lark look like a massage, not to mention telling the staff about the cheating.

They are scared into avoiding RWBY and co. where convenient.

CRDL slink off to be cunts elsewhere.

Pyrrha, because fuck ‘will they won’t they’, asks Jaune out on a date.

Jaune, breaking dense anime boy tradition, says yes.

They’re cute together and N+R support them.

Beginnings of Vital Festival starts.

Team RWBY sees Sun causing chaos.

He briefly introduces himself to them and then runs off to cause more monkey mischief.

SSN are right behind him and are rude bastards who don’t introduce themselves while fleeing the cops.

Penny meets team in glorious awkwardness.

Ciel, whom Weiss recognizes from Atlas (they went to the same starter school together), is constantly chasing after her and her antics.

Her other two teammates are just combat bots with special retrofits. (They’re prototypes for Penny)

Gives context of tournament and her place in it like an awkward robot would.

Weiss says something pretty damn racist directed towards Sun.

RBY call out Weiss on racism.

Blake gets angry with her.

The topic of the White Fang comes up.

R + Y both agree with Weiss that the White Fang are assholes, despite also condemning Weiss’ racism.

Weiss has horror stories about what they’ve done, including kidnapping her at young age.

Points to her scar for emphasis.

Blake can’t argue against what they’re talking about but counters with the horrible stuff the SDC has done across planet.

General scumbag corporate crap as well as paramilitary actions that break most international laws.

R + Y also agree with Blake that SDC sucks too.

Weiss is a little taken aback.

She genuinely had no clue that things like that were happening.

Blake lets slip that she was White Fang.

Runs off before people can react.

Team gives chase.

Blake thinks they’re going to turn her in and/or lynch her.

They only want to talk to her and get the full story.

Weiss is conflicted about things.

Sun finds Blake, says that he remembers her from a White Fang attack in Vacuo, despite the masks they wear, and wants some answers.

Sun says that general opinion among faunus (at least in Vacuo and Mistral) is that the White Fang are asshole supremacists that cause more problems than they ever solve or even try to solve.

Blake gets reality check about White Fang.

Confesses that she was involved with some acts of violence but thought it was for the greater good.

She makes a point of saying that she, herself, did not kill anyone. If anyone was killed it was not by her.

If someone died, then it was either an ‘accident’ someone else did or Adam swung the sword.

Also thought that the genuinely horrible stuff she heard was propaganda or just Adam being a dick.

It was said dickishness of Adam’s cell that was tolerated by larger organization that made her leave and try to repent.

She had no idea that Adam was only marginally more of a lunatic than other cell leaders.

Blake happens to see telltale signs of White Fang attack. Uses them as an excuse to change subject.

Sun gives her benefit of the doubt on her attempt at personal redemption and assists her in trying to stop terrorist plot.

Penny has nothing better to do so she gives Ciel the slip and starts helping Ruby look for Blake.

Have conversation about friendship, freedom, and weapons.

Weiss airs concerns to Yang about future of team.

She seems scared at the idea of losing a friend like Blake.

White Fang are taking orders from Torchwick and his goons.

Blake tries to appeal to their good side.

They call her and Sun race traitors and try to kill them.

Blake and Sun vs Torchwick.

Neo (Roman’s adopted daughter) shows up to help Torchwick.

White Fang go all out.

This is a problem.

RWY and Penny arrive to brawl.

Penny solves problems.

Sun and Penny take on the White Fang

Roman + Neo are final boss of season for RWBY.

Hard fought fight, but it is clear that RWBY is going to win.

White Fang have contingency explosive.

No one important dies, but Penny is grabbed by her superiors in the confusion.

Weiss and Blake confrontation.

Both apologize for the mistakes in their earlier arguments and for flying off the handle.

Both still have rose-tinted glasses about their respective sides but the tint is wearing off.

Blake stops hiding being a faunus because the rest of the world isn’t as horrible and racist as the supremacist terrorists told her it was.

Agrees to be more transparent to her team.

Weiss agrees that #notallfaunus and that the SDC has done some dirt.

Torchwick meets with mysterious benefactor about problems with latest job.

Cinder, Emerald, Mercury, and Adam tell him not to worry and that Evil Plan is still a go.

Season one done.

[trashogram]

Ryuk/Reader 3: Confident

A/N: I don’t know if I like this one. Reader is more evidently female as these progress. Should I post these on AO3? They’re not linear so I’m hesitant to do it.

He was lying on his side on the couch, head propped up by one hand. The furniture you could afford was small and if he stretched out to his full size, Ryuk would’ve hung off both ends by a generous amount. It was far better than constantly laying on the ground, and that stupid rug, though.

The god reached out with one lanky arm, poking at the coffee table in front until he got a good grasp of the remote and began channel-surfing. The door to your bedroom creaking open made his ears perk.  

“You’re gonna come out?” He twitched, but otherwise remained at rest. Your footfalls sounded against the dingy floor as you moved behind him.

“I would never keep a mirror in my bedroom.” You puffed away a few strands of errant hair as you marched over to the bathroom and turned on the light. You squinted, half to brace against the harsh light and half to keep from actually looking at your reflection.

“You think the first thing I wanna see in the morning is myself?” You asked incredulously.

It had the intended effect of making your shinigami laugh, and you took a second to smile at your accomplishment.

“Better’n seein’ me hangin’ over you, I’ll bet.” He called from the other side of the room.

You saw yourself in the mirror.

“I hate this. I hate clothes.” Not a fact at all. You’d garnered a renewed interest in fashion back in school. You’d also been thinking about clothing a lot more since your new companion had “appeared” and never left your side. His image was a constant in your mind, regardless of the rules of possession.

No one quite looked like Ryuk, nothing ordinary anyway. But then when you looked at horror-themed art and monsters from folklore, it stuck out to you that nothing dressed like him, either.

Which was a damn shame, to be honest. You’d have never expected the grim reaper to be dressed like a goth punk from the 1980s, with leather and chains and shiny jewelry. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a fascinating idea.

Fascinating enough to push you into spending the weekend looking for new things to wear, a particular theme in mind. It made you nervous, but it was easy to engage Ryuk when you reminded him that the mall had a Gamestop as well as boring clothes.

Now, you sighed. “This was such a waste of time. Why did I even do this?”

Lifting himself up by the back of the couch, Ryuk peered over the edge of the side. Nothing on TV, never was anything on TV.

Still, he was already regretting getting up from his previous position, as the light from your bathroom was too much in the otherwise dim apartment.

He opened his mouth, ready to tell you to quit whining, to put this off until tomorrow in broad daylight. But he stopped short.

You were in front of the mirror, leaning on the countertop and over the sink with a worried expression on your face. With your back turned to the shinigami, however, he was quick to divert his gaze from your face to your backside.

It wasn’t as if Ryuk had never seen you in a dress before, but nothing you ever wore was quite so… short. Not like this. The length of the skirt was just shy of your mid-thigh; if you were to lean over any further, he’d be able to see your panties no problem.

Regardless of your attempts at modesty - often changing behind your bedroom door or in the bathroom after demanding he wait outside - Ryuk had seen your undergarments. You could get careless; messy. Laundry was sometimes strewn on the floor, and when you got up in the morning, he almost always caught a glimpse of your underwear before you pulled on your pajama bottoms.

“The blankets are warm enough by themselves, don’t need pants.” You’d said once, so easily embarrassed.

This was different, though. You were too distracted to be on the defensive. Instead, you leaned forward even further, adjusting the front of your all-black outfit and revealing more of your soft skin. No trousers or leggings covered your legs, leaving you bare and showing how shapely you were.

There were white and green stripes briefly visible, hugging your bottom beneath the skirt before you straightened up.

You’d finally noticed him gawking, and your face went flush.

You turned around, still gripping the counter with one hand to keep steady. “It’s not the worst thing you’ve ever seen, is it?”

He’d had enough time to shift his pointed gaze from your rear up to your face. But the pout on your lips at his continued silence made Ryuk draw in a ragged breath. He rose from his seat and stretched a leg over the sofa like it was nothing, before looming over to get a closer look at you.

With your head craned back, looking up from your lashes at him expectantly and giving him a look at the extra little things you’d done. Your lips were glossy and your eyelids were the color of ash, and there was blood rising beneath your cheeks to emphasize it all. A little chain hung around your neck, basic and silver but complimenting how shiny you’d become.

He reached for you. His claws touched the hem of your dress, dipping beneath ever so slightly so that he could feel the warmth radiating from you. He hadn’t eaten for hours, but Ryuk swallowed back a mouthful of saliva as if he was holding back.

“Ngh.” Was his eloquent reply.

You blinked up at him, head cocking to the side in confusion. It looked so genuine, but it couldn’t possibly be. You were acting, joking - you had to be fucking with him.

His personal shyness wasn’t a secret by any means. By all the punishments known to his kind, he’d had such a hard time getting used to just being touched by you. Now you were here, looking sweet enough to eat.

The rumbling in Ryuk’s chest took time to build up into a laugh, like the starting of an engine or revving of a motor. It startled you into jumping back, away from his frame as it began to shake.

“You’re a real riot, kid.” His cackling was hollow.

But any falseness or dry sarcasm escaped you as you scoffed at him, fully offended. “Oh, I’m glad this is hilarious to you, too.”

Ryuk stopped eventually, and mimicked your prior head tilting. “Aww, come on. Don’t do that.”

The familiar grin on his face was stretched tight, but you barely noticed. 

“Do what?” You grumbled, looking away.  

As with his reaching for you from before, the spindly fingers that came to tip your face toward him again did not startle you so much as confuse you. You could feel his nails resting under your jaw carefully, even as you were focused on his eyes, far redder than you’d ever seen them before.

They were glowing as he stared at you.

“Don’t pretend to be shy, lookin’ like that.” Ryuk’s natural hunch seemed to accentuate, so close as he leaned down toward you that you could feel his words more than hear them.

He was so close, more to reiterate the irritation he felt at your attempts to remain like a deer in headlights. Ryuk couldn’t pinpoint his annoyance exactly - was it your joking that crossed the line or how pathetic you were, still pretending innocence. Or was it the frustration of seeing you now and knowing that you very well were so insecure that you couldn’t fathom being desired at all, by anyone? Or any thing, in his case.

Your lashes fluttered. “Ok… I’ll go change, then.”

You pulled away, awkwardly side-stepping the god of death. You headed back to your room, but not without noticing that Ryuk wasn’t following you.

He stood in the same spot, watching as you shut the door behind you.

[mister-fleck]

full of surprises: arthur fleck x reader

Prompt: Could you perhaps write a fic where Arthur has a praise kink?

“So, will you come?”

Shifting uncomfortably on the locker room bench, Arthur’s face scrunched into a hesitant wince. “I don’t know, Randall. Clubs like that aren’t really my scene.” 

“C’mon, buddy,” Randall took a seat next to him and placed one of his meaty paws on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Don’t be a wuss. Birthdays don’t happen all that often, pal.”

Tilting his head, Arthur eyed him wearily. He had personally worked twelve birthday parties this week. “They kind of do.”

Randall tightened his grip and Arthur bit back the urge to shy away at the muted pain. He knew that he’d never hear the end of it if he acted like a frail little girl.

“It’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t,” Randall told him plainly, leaning in closer and raising his eyebrows expectantly. His bulky figure blocked out the sunlight from the window behind him and it casted a nasty shadow. “I thought you were my boy, Artie.”

My boy.

A wave of nausea washed over Arthur and he had to look away. There was something about that nickname, about the way Randall towered over him, about how he constantly reeked of gin and motor oil — it always smacked him in the face with unpleasant deja vu.

“I don’t want you to be upset with me,” Arthur eventually found himself mumbling, feeling helpless. He fiddled with the leather tongue of his clown shoe, green eyes focused on his own bitten-down nails and calloused hands. “I’d hate it if you were mad.” 

“Then show up.” After firmly clapping Arthur twice on the back — almost hard enough to make him fall off the bench — Randall pushed himself onto his feet with an ugly grunt, slung his bag over his shoulder, and made his way toward the stairs. “Oh, don’t forget to bring some cash. You’ll be useless there without any.” 

As Randall stomped off, Arthur tried desperately to figure out what it was about him that made him want to puke and hide. Every interaction with him left him with a headache and there was only so much of it that Arthur could take. He rubbed at his eyes after a few minutes of not blinking and forced himself to get ready for the long walk home. 

Saturday night came quickly. With his mother tucked away safely in bed, Arthur paced around his living room, hair mussed and brow knitted. It had been an entire week since the forced invitation and he still wasn’t even remotely prepared.

“Don’t be a wuss,” Arthur scolded himself, echoing Randall’s distaste. He pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt past his hands, finding comfort in the habit. “It’s just a party. They’re just dancers.” 

Still muttering to himself, Arthur made his way over to the china cabinet against the wall and lifted the lid off of one of the delicate teapots. Inside was a meager amount of crumpled bills, his secret savings account that he had set aside for emergencies. It pained him to have to dip into what little he had, but with a grimace Arthur blindly grabbed at a handful and shoved the cash into the front pocket of his pants.

He’d be the butt of a joke if he showed up penniless to a strip club. 

The subway ride there was bumpy and crowded and it didn’t help ease the queasiness developing in Arthur’s gut. His brain had kicked into overdrive, imagining every bad scenario and uncomfortable situation. What if he arrived first? What if the strippers didn’t want to go anywhere near him? What if he drank too much, made a fool of himself?

Arthur had never been taught how to properly act around a woman, let alone one scantily clad and asking for money. He knew that he’d have to be a little forward to fit in with the others, but he’d hate himself if he overstepped and made one of the dancers uncomfortable. A little lightheaded, Arthur lifted the fabric of his sweatshirt to his nose and took a sniff, making sure he didn’t reek. 

Fifteen minutes later, he stood alone outside of The Centerfold. It was tucked away in the corner, the sidewalk illuminated only by the buzzing neon sign perched crookedly above the entrance. Arthur’s stomach twisted and he puffed out a sigh, scratching at his neck. He felt like a nervous schoolboy, but instead of teachers lurking the halls there were half-naked women.

“Hey there, Arthur,” came a soft voice beside him. Arthur looked around — and then down, to where Gary was smiling up at him kindly. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah,” Arthur chuckled, pushing back his hair. He felt a little relieved now that there was a familiar face. “Neither did I.”

Gary shoved one of his hands in his pockets, the other holding onto a white envelope. He looked calm, almost bored. “It’s not too bad in there. Smells a little like piss and sweat, but aside from that — nothing awful.” 

Arthur was too focused on the card in Gary’s hand to digest any of what he was saying. It had dawned on him that he hadn’t gotten any kind of present for Randall. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, leaning in to speak privately through his teeth. “I forgot to get him a gift.”

“I can add your name to the card, if you want,” Gary offered with a shrug. Arthur couldn’t help but smile a little — Gary was genuinely the only person aside from his mother that didn’t resent his existence. 

“Are you sure?” He dug his shoe timidly into the gravel beneath his feet. “That would be great —”

But before Gary could open the envelope, Randall was pushing open the doors and grinning broadly at the two of them. 

“Took you two clowns long enough. That for me?” He didn’t give Gary the chance to respond as he snatched the card out of his hand. “Better be somethin’ good. C’mon, we got a great table near the stage.” 

Arthur felt his stomach drop and he exchanged a wary glance with Gary before letting Randall lead the way. 

It didn’t come as a surprise to Arthur that he ended up having to frequently rush to the bathroom to hide his laughing fits. The club was a brand new social experience for him, one that he had never imagined having to tackle, and the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. The place was packed with guys that would happily taunt him if given the chance to. After decades of bullying, Arthur could spot them from a mile away.

Of course, the party of men he sat with all assumed that Arthur was escaping to the restroom to whack off, overwhelmed with all of the breasts and ass on display. The women working at The Centerfold were all beautiful, Arthur couldn’t deny it, but he was wound so tight with anxiety that he couldn’t even consider being turned on by any of them. 

Upon returning to the table for the fifth time, Randall yanked him back into his chair by the fabric of his hoodie. “Just realized you didn’t get me anything, you son of a bitch,” he jabbed, and Arthur couldn’t tell if he was playing around or actually offended.

“I’m sorry, Randall,” Arthur spoke up quietly, rubbing at his arm. He tried to conjure up an explanation. “I think I left it on the counter at home.”

“Did Mommy help you wrap it?” One of his other coworkers cut in, leaning in with a sloppy grin. With the exception of Arthur, the birthday group hadn’t wasted any time on getting plastered. “Or did you do it by yourself like a big boy?”

Embarrassed, Arthur felt himself shrink in his chair, not knowing what words he could string together to defend himself. He settled instead for laughing a little, hoping to hide his discomfort and feign amusement.

“Don’t sweat it, pal,” Randall scooted his chair forward and slung a heavy arm over Arthur’s shoulder, making him nauseous all over again. “I know exactly what you could do to make up for it.”

Instantly sick, Arthur visibly shuddered and tried to push away that terrible deja vu. When he spoke, it was barely audible over the pulsing club music. “What is it?”

Randall leaned back — arm still very much around Arthur — and put two fingers into his mouth to produce a piercing whistle. A dancer from three tables over turned around on her heel, scanned the room and made her way over.

“You see, Artie, this isn’t just any strip club,” he informed him smugly through a sleazy chuckle. “They have… an array of special services available.” 

“I don’t know what that means,” Arthur told him meekly, wishing he hadn’t left his cigarettes at home. 

“I took the liberty of asking this young lady here to tell you all about it.” Randall finally retracted his arm, but only to smack the woman on the ass. She didn’t seem phased, but didn’t look particularly happy about it either. 

“Hey there, boys,” she drawled in a low, silky voice, slender hands resting on her hips. She was wearing a black brassiere and a matching thong, red high heels giving her a couple of extra inches. Her eyes met Arthur’s and he twitched under her stare. “Is this Artie?”

Randall downed the rest of his whiskey and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, letting out a belch. “Yup. Take him away, hot stuff.” 

Arthur stiffened, gripped at his throat in anticipation. This was all too much at once. “What’s going on? What do you mean?”

The woman sauntered around Randall and reached down to tuck a lock of hair behind Arthur’s ear. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.” 

—

You were able to spot him right away. He matched the brief description that had been given to you earlier — skinny, unkempt, timid. Kind of a loser. You fought back the urge to yawn. This wouldn’t be the first time you fucked a virgin. He’d be your fourth this month.

This really wasn’t how you had envisioned your twenties playing out. You were supposed to go to a respectable university, study psychology or ethics, maybe find some sort of garden apartment and adopt a couple of dogs — but all of that had gone to shit after getting knocked up at nineteen. You of course loved your son, he was your entire life, but being a single mother at twenty-five in downtown Gotham had unfortunately forced you into a dirty profession that guaranteed decent pay.

But you’d do anything to offer your son a good, clean life. And if that meant blowing strangers Friday and Saturday nights — well, that’s life. 

Taking the man’s hand in yours, you gently led him through the bodies and crowded tables. His palm was sweaty as he stumbled behind you, almost tripping a few times over misplaced bar stools. The birthday boy Randall hadn’t been discreet about the purpose of all of this — he was nearly crying with laughter as he informed you that ‘his pal Artie’ would probably have an anxiety attack or cum in his pants thirty seconds into being alone with you.

You didn’t find the former funny at all — the latter was something you had experienced a dozen times, nothing special — and you ran your thumb over the back of the man’s hand as the both of you pushed through thick red drapes. 

“How are you doing tonight, Artie?” You asked him smoothly, attempting to loosen him up a bit. He seemed like a good enough guy. “Having a nice time?”

“It’s Arthur, actually,” the man stammered, the lighter pitch of his voice endearing. “And I’m doing okay.” 

“Just okay?” You teased, guiding him further into the dark hallway. You nodded at one of the security guards who stood rigidly against the wall. It always gave you great comfort, knowing that there were a handful of bulky men ready to defend you if something were to go sour during a session. All you had to do was call out.

“I’ve never been to a club like this before,” Arthur explained after a long pause, mousy and apologetic as the both of you passed several rooms. A loud groan erupted out of one of them, making him tense up. “I guess I’m a little nervous.” 

Stopping in front of one of the empty rooms, you took a moment to briefly look over Arthur. The poor thing looked like a stray dog with its tail between its legs. Giving Arthur a patient, sultry grin, you motioned for him to enter. “That’s perfectly normal, honey.”

Once the pair of you were inside and the door was closed, you watched as Arthur took in the space like a frightened child.

The room was something similar to a motel bedroom: a queen-sized bed, a small couch, a night stand. You had chosen one of the nicer rooms that had a small bathroom connected to it, figuring that Arthur might be more at ease if the space wasn’t too closed-in. Especially with the unnerving way he rubbed at his neck. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was claustrophobic.

Rolling your shoulders back, you approached the nearby table to fiddle with the CD player that had been placed there. No time like the present to kick things off. “Okay, Arthur. Take a seat on the bed and we’ll go over the rules.” 

—

Arthur didn’t know how to process any of this. He had just gotten used to the whole table situation, finding that he could calm down and block out the pressure if he hummed a gentle tune under his breath, but now he was alone in a secret room with a stranger and his inner monologue had blurred into static. 

He wanted to speak up, tell you that he wasn’t interested in this, that you didn’t have to do... whatever it was that you did. But once you began to rattle off your terms and conditions, Arthur closed his mouth. He didn’t want to be impolite.

“I’ll keep it simple. No choking, no leaving marks, no kissing on the mouth. We provide condoms and you must wear them. If at any moment I feel threatened, or if you break any of these rules, I will not hesitate to call for one of those big guys out there. Your friend prepaid for thirty minutes. If at the end of our session you’d like to buy more time, it’ll be an extra hundred bucks, okay?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, Arthur remained frozen, lips pressed together and fingers bunched up in his sleeves. You had said it all so quickly and he felt like he could pass out from the implications alone. He had heard the word condoms  — were the two of you going to make love?

When Arthur finally mustered up the courage to respond, it came out jumbled and uncertain. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but — I, um — “ He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flitting all over the room, not knowing quite where to land. “I don’t think this is a good idea. You — I mean, you’re really beautiful, but I’ve never…” 

He watched you walk over to him slowly, lips parting as you reached out to gently unfurl one of his fists.

“Arthur.” He had a hard time getting over the lovely, feminine lilt in your voice. “It’s okay if this is your first time.” 

It happened before he could even attempt to stop it. 

A jarring, strangled laugh surged out of him, loud and abrupt, and he felt you jump away from him in alarm, rightfully startled. Not wanting to frighten you, Arthur hid his face in his sleeve and closed his eyes tight, each spasming attack making him lurch forward. It almost felt like vomiting, the way his body contracted, but the source of it lived deep in his chest like a demon.

“What’s going on?” He heard you say after a few moments. You sounded guarded now, cautious. 

Terrified that you might call one of the hulking security guards into the room, Arthur lifted his head and tried his hardest to speak through the laughter. “I have a — a condition — that makes me — “ Trying his best to muffle another series of hard laughs, he covered his mouth with both hands and ducked his head, buried deep in shame.

He hated the way he sounded during attacks. It wasn’t anything like his actual laugh. 

There was a long beat. With his eyes cast downwards, Arthur couldn’t gauge your reaction, but the last thing he had expected after such a heavy pause was a pair of soft arms wrapping around him.

—

You switched modes before you even realized it. You had never seen anything like this before — this ambush of tormented laughter, but the panic attacks your son struggled with made it easy for you to recognize that this wasn’t intentional.

“Let’s take some deep breaths, honey,” you instructed calmly, rubbing careful circles on his back. Your fingertips wandered over the prominent dips of his shoulder blades and you wondered if this man ever even ate. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. We’ll do it together, okay?” 

Arthur stiffened initially at the physical contact but it didn’t take long for him to warm up to the attention, nodding shakily through bursts of laughter. It was admittedly hard to watch — all of the choking and gasping, the pain in his eyes. Pursing your lips, you reached out for his hand and placed it flat against your bare abdomen. 

“Here we go. Breathe in.” You took in an exaggerated breath, hoping that he would feel the deliberate rise and fall of your stomach to help him focus. “And out.” 

It took him a few tries to properly inhale, his lungs hindering the process as they stuttered, but Arthur eventually found a stable rhythm. Not quite hunched over anymore, he kept his hand pressed against your stomach, the other now all balled up between his knees. 

Lost in the transformation in front of you and more than pleased with how he had listened — men never listened anymore — you pushed his hair out of his eyes and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  “Good job, honey. That was very brave.”

With a bashful smile, Arthur shook his head and shyly retracted his hand from your stomach. “No, not really.”

Something had shifted in him. You narrowed your eyes a little, studying him. There had been a definite change in his demeanor upon your gentle approval. Some of the tension had faded. Running your teeth along your bottom lip, you hesitated a moment before testing it out. You had already gotten paid, there was really nothing to lose here.

“Yes, really.” Leaning closer, you brushed your lips against the shell of his ear and scratched at the middle of his back with manicured nails. “You were a very good boy.”

He whimpered a bit and you smiled. There it was. Priding yourself on your intuition, you let your free hand rest against his thigh and dipped your chin to kiss at the underside of his jaw. He smelled like an ashtray but you didn’t mind it. Anything was better than the terrible cologne most of your customers drenched themselves in. “Do you want to know what I think?”

You took a moment to look up at him and watched as he took a deep breath, seemingly steadying himself. His lashes were wet, the poor thing. When Arthur answered you, it was lost in the back of his throat like a secret. “What?”

“I think that this good little boy…” You tiptoed your fingertips up his chest before toying with the zipper of his sweatshirt. “Deserves to be rewarded."

—

Good little boy.

The phrase should have made him angry. If he was like any other man, he would have scoffed and retreated, asked for a refund — but the genuine approval in your voice filled Arthur with a belonging so poignant that it knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been called good. If ever. 

Hot all over, Arthur watched you begin to unzip his jacket, his neck still tingling from that feather-light kiss. Although a part of him wanted to carefully take your hand and halt your intentions like a gentleman, he knew that this may be his only shot at being intimate with a woman. And if you were willing, if you didn’t feel disgusted, Arthur figured that he had to at least try. 

“You have such pretty hands,” he murmured awkwardly, heat rising up his neck. “Do you play piano?”

You giggled next to him — giggled — and Arthur felt pride swell in his chest. “I used to.” 

There was a playful tug to his sleeve and Arthur shrugged out of his jacket obediently, leaving him in his brown slacks and white button-up. His shirt hadn’t been pressed in ages and he frowned, reaching up in attempts to smooth away some of the wrinkles, but you playfully batted away his hands and popped open the top button.

“Why did you stop?” He heard himself ask, not knowing if it was proper etiquette to make small talk. 

“Life got in the way, I guess.” Three more buttons undone. 

Arthur watched as you moved closer and couldn’t hold back a groan upon feeling warm lips against his pulse point. Eyes fluttering shut, he felt his cock twitch hard in his pants, completely at your mercy. He had never been touched like this before and he was still fully dressed. 

With the front of his shirt now open, Arthur shivered a little, his fingers bunching up the fabric of the comforter beneath him. When you nipped at the corner of his jaw, he gasped. “That — That feels nice.” 

This earned him a warm chuckle, but then you were gone, the warmth of your body no longer pressed against his side. Worried that he had done something wrong, Arthur’s eyes flew open—

To see you ever so slowly sinking down to your knees. 

—

You had to admit that there was something charming about Arthur. He hadn’t groped at you with greedy, dirty fingers, he hadn’t tried to smack your ass or tug your bra off. He was willing and kind, and more handsome than he allowed himself to be. You had to hold back your laughter — your faintest touch drove him wild and you wondered absently just how long he would be able to last.

Kneeling now, you smirked up at him from beneath long lashes and watched him squirm in anticipation. You weren’t ashamed to admit that you were great at giving head. You had recently developed a bit of an oral fixation, soothed by lollipops and toothpicks. But if the bulge in Arthur’s pants signified anything, there was an alluring alternative being offered to you. 

“I can make you feel really nice.” You slid your palms up and down along his thighs, rolling back your shoulders again to accentuate your cleavage. “Would you like that, baby?”

Arthur heaved in a breath and nodded eagerly. “Yes ma’am.” 

“So polite,” you tutted, fingers now dancing around the buckle of his belt. Once it was undone, you spread his legs and pressed a lingering kiss to the crotch of his slacks. “Such a sweet boy.” 

As you expected, Arthur was a complete mess, trembling and speechless as you pulled down his zipper. You had neglected to press play earlier on the CD player across the room, but you didn’t mind it. The little noises coming out of him were… 

Pressing your thighs together, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, thrown off by your body’s reaction. You never got aroused at work, but you had to pause after pulling his erection out of his pants, the dull throb between your legs unwarranted and distracting.

You must have been standing still longer than intended because Arthur eventually spoke up, voice tight with worry. “You don’t — You don’t have to, I know that I’m not handsome, I don’t want you to feel pressured —”

With pink cheeks you snapped out of it and kissed the head of his cock, effectively shutting him up. “You’re very handsome,” you assured him, trying your best to keep your confidence through the storm building inside you. You had half a mind to actually stop, not knowing whether it would be wise to continue with a foggy mind, but your mouth had a mind of its own: You flattened your tongue against the base of his length and dragged up, up, up before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth.

Arthur groaned again right away, low and desperate this time, and you found yourself grabbing onto the front of his pants to steady yourself, your other hand holding his cock in place as he trembled next to you. 

“That feels so…” Swallowing hard, Arthur reached toward you for a moment before hastily retreating his hand, clearly very shy.

“You can touch me,” you told him in a breath, pressing lazy kisses to the side of his now very hard cock. You closed your eyes, thinking that maybe if you didn’t look at him, you could pretend that this was some other client and not Arthur. Not Arthur and his sweet little whimpers and — his now gentle fingers sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“Is this okay?” Arthur husked quietly, the pad of his thumb tracing along sensitive skin. 

You shivered instantly and had to stop yourself from leaning into his palm, instead smiling demurely and nodding. “Very okay.”

With other clients, you had a bit of a routine. Some heavy petting, a little generic dirty talk, followed by a long, drawn-out blow job, hoping that you could take up most of the allotted time on your knees. Nine times out of ten, it would be more than enough for the men who frequented the club. They just wanted to get off, it didn’t matter how. 

But with Arthur… you couldn’t stop yourself from taking the whole of him into your mouth, wanting to hear him moan again, wanting to please him. 

Obviously not accustomed to this level of pleasure, Arthur yelped a little and sucked in a ragged breath. “I think — I might, I’m sorry I might —”

Knowing that he was looking for permission, you opened your eyes and finally looked up at him again. The sight of Arthur panting, his bare chest flushed, his eyes so dark — you realized that you were now very, very wet. You locked eyes with him and swirled your tongue just so, silently communicating that he could let go.

And he did with a ragged, handsome cry, cumming hard with quivering hips and the slightest tug to your hair. 

You knew then and there that you were screwed. You never, ever, ever let any of your clients cum in your mouth. 

But Arthur didn’t need to know that. 

Swallowing slowly, you didn’t pull back right away. Partially because you didn’t want to, but also because a part of you knew that there was still at least twenty minutes left. You hadn’t been prepared for this. So you remained kneeling, in a daze as you dragged your bottom lip along his now very sensitive cock.

Arthur was out of breath and sounded a little hoarse when he spoke, clearly out of his element and overstimulated. “Thank — Thank you.” 

This made you smile despite yourself and you dropped a kiss to his thigh. He was full of surprises. Still trying to pull yourself together, you squeezed affectionately at his knee. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“What about you?”

The question came so soft and you blinked a few times before glancing up at him, not understanding. “Me?”

Arthur’s brows were furrowed as he nodded, regarding you sincerely. “Yeah. I don’t — I don’t want this to be all about me.” 

Heat rushed through your body like wildfire and you gaped at him, now completely caught off guard. Was he implying that he wanted to — 

“I might not be very good at it, but I’d like to try,” Arthur continued, rubbing at the back of his neck. His eyes then grew wide. “Unless that’s against the rules. Or you don’t want me to. I just figured that I —”

“No, it’s — it’s allowed,” you cut him off, pulse quickening at the idea. You ran a hand through your hair and tried to seem nonchalant, knowing you looked anything but. “You can, if you want to.”

In a clumsy blur Arthur was helping you to your feet and watching as you climbed up onto the bed. You squeezed your thighs together again, realizing now that he’d be able to see just how wet you were. The two of you locked eyes, both a little uncertain, but Arthur surprised you by taking the initiative, shyly reaching over to pull out one of the pillows from underneath the comforter and setting it against the headboard of the bed.

Silently inviting you to lay back. 

You blew out a shaky breath and smiled at him, charmed despite suddenly feeling like a teenager on prom night. Not wanting to make him feel unsure of himself, you slid to the middle of the mattress and stretched out onto your back as gracefully as you could manage, your chest heaving now that the tables were turned.

Arthur’s eyes trailed over your body for the first time all night and you found yourself melting beneath his stare. He wasn’t ogling you like the men outside did — he looked like he was appreciating every dip and curve and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Take my panties off,” you prompted, shame flying out the window. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this turned on and you’d surely combust if he didn’t touch you in some way. 

Nodding quickly, Arthur bashfully tucked himself back into his pants and knelt beside you to do as he was told, warm fingers hooking beneath the hem of your thong and dragging the ruined garment down the long expanse of your legs. It got caught momentarily on your heels, making the two of you chuckle a little, but the nervous smile on Arthur’s face faded into pure lust upon gazing at your pussy for the first time.

You had expected him to pause, ask permission again, maybe procrastinate and stall a little — but Arthur was between your legs in a flash, settled on his stomach now, his tongue already lapping eagerly at you.

“Oh m-my god,” you spluttered, both hands flying up to sink into his hair, seeing stars as you tried to register how somebody so inexperienced could instantly figure out how to do that — 

Arthur took your reaction incorrectly, however, his head shooting up, green eyes wildly apologetic. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No, no, no —” You shook your head, your mouth dry now as your hips bucked up. You were planning on saying something reassuring, something coherent, but all that came out was a slutty little whine that made something shift in Arthur.

With a renewed sense of determination, Arthur surged forward once more and went right back into eating your pussy like it was his job, his hands curling around your waist as you all but writhed beneath him. 

“Fuck! That’s —” You moaned girlishly, arching your back. His blunt fingernails dug deliciously into your hips as he held you down. You laughed breathlessly, delirious in your pleasure. “Are you sure you haven’t d-done this before?”

Arthur chuckled low against you, a rumbling sensation that sent a shiver rolling up your spine. It was beyond you how the fumbling, timid man from before had the potential to turn into this. 

He didn’t let up, learning as he went along, playing close attention to what really made you quiver — and yet somehow, holding back a bit, as if he didn’t want it to end just yet. 

Almost on the verge of tears, you lifted your head up from the pillow to catch a glance at what he looked like and noticed that he was absently jutting his hips into the mattress, seemingly turned on all over again. 

The words came tumbling out before you could stop them, high-pitched and wanton. “Come up here. Fuck me.” 

This was enough to make Arthur pause, lift his chin, lock eyes with you as if making sure he had heard you correctly. 

“You did so good, baby,” you told him in a rush, pushing back his hair to really look at him. With your entire body quaking with need, all you could do was whimper out a small, “Please.” 

Arthur sprang into action, tugging off his pants — well, stopping a moment to kick off his shoes and then taking off his pants, which made you giggle behind your hand — and climbed back up onto the bed in just his open shirt. 

He hesitated above you and you wondered for a moment if he had spotted some sort of flaw, if maybe up close you weren’t as attractive to him as he had thought, but then he nervously murmured, “You said you had condoms?”

Blushing furiously, you broke into a breathless smile and reached over to the bedside table, catching a glimpse of his cock in the process. The sight alone made your pussy throb hard and your hand trembled as it rifled through the top drawer. You felt around, knowing that there was normally at least a dozen condoms kept there. But, nothing.

Cursing under your breath, you sat up a little more and Arthur did the same, the both of you trembling with want and realizing at the same time that the drawer was completely empty. 

Rolling back onto the mattress, you caught those green eyes again and worried your bottom lip between your teeth. In any other circumstance, this would have been the end of it, but there had already been so many exceptions tonight, and you were most definitely on birth control — 

“Fuck it, just —” You reached out, grabbed ahold of his collar and tugged him forward to break another rule, kissing him hard. 

Arthur didn’t respond right away, shocked and well aware of the terms you had set out, but soon kissed you back in earnest, his hands immediately cupping your face with a tenderness that made you sink into the mattress. 

Smoothing your hands beneath his shirt, you scratched down along his back and he purred in response, grinding his cock against your inner thigh. Completely out of self-control now, you bit down on his lip and reached down to help guide his length towards your pussy, crying out as it brushed against your clit. He took this as the last bit of permission needed and broke the kiss to look down, and —

“Fuck!” 

Arthur didn’t fuck slowly. Once he was inside of you, his pace was rapid right away, hips snapping forward with each unforgiving, bruising thrust. 

You buried your face in his neck, bit down at the skin there and sobbed a little, overwhelmed with pleasure. “Arthur, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

This time, Arthur didn’t tiptoe around it. “I’m gonna cum,” he grunted, a throaty kind of whine that made you instantly clench around him. 

“You’re — I’m —” You couldn’t fucking speak anymore, because he had tilted his hips up in such a way that made your vision crackle — and then you were cumming, hard, shrieking into his neck.

With your pussy clamped down hard on his cock, Arthur couldn’t have pulled out if he tried. He came inside you with a long, sensual groan that made you wrap your arms around his neck, just wanting to feel him. 

The both of you sort of collapsed into each other simultaneously, all heavy breathing and rapid heartbeats and shaky limbs. 

“Baby boy,” you eventually breathed out, a sort of sigh of disbelief, your hand returning to his hair.

Clearly exhausted, Arthur pressed a kiss to your temple and you felt his lips turn up into a sleepy smile. “Mm?”

“Your friend can go fuck himself,” you murmured, scratching lazily at his scalp and smiling right back, “Cause you’re coming home with me.” 

--

reader tag: @taintednihilist @galaxycat-1459 @hxneyboy @sebastianshoe @insomniabird@jesstaggartt@lenawiinchester @emissarydecksetter @ghoulsguilty @vampirozi @spaceinvader@aclownthing @zy-nnic @alirabbitt @mapreza1 @the-jokers-wolf @nicimixerxoxo @catch-a-star-wish-from-afar @umetsa @skaravile @live-love-loki @clowneyrat @darknessisafriend @chaosheartjester​ @shikoshikomanzuri​ @myfaceisaturnoffsorry​ @foofee0924​ @tearfuljokers​

(if you’d like to be added to the reader tag, shoot me a message! sorry if i’m missing anybody, lemme know if i did!)

[sherrybaby14]

Charcoal

Summary:  You break up with Bucky, but agree to one last event.

Warnings:  Breeding!Kink, smut, maybe dubcon (but not really), alcohol, charcoal

Words:  2500

A/N:  Based on a post, that I can’t link to at the moment.  

At least the coffee shop was crowded.  It made the conversation a little less personal.  

“I’m sorry, but we’re just looking for different things.”  You twiddled your thumbs. “I think you’re great and all, but you keep talking about starting a family and I am no where near that point in my life.”  

Bucky’s small smile didn’t drop, but you saw the disappointment in his eyes.  

“But you would make such a great mother.”  He reached out and took your hand. “And our children.  The two of us together?  They could rule the world.”  

“See?”  You pulled your hand away.  “That sort of talk…it creeps me out a little. We’re not even married.”  

“I’m sorry, but I say what’s on my mind.”  Bucky ran his hands through his hair.  “I can tone it down?”

“No.” You had made up yours and weren’t about to back down. “You need to find someone who wants the things you want.  You’ll make a great dad and its obvious you’re ready.”  

Bucky fell back in the chair.  He didn’t make eye contact with you as he blew a gust through his lips.  

“The party.  Tomorrow night.  Everyone is coming.”  He looked at you with such sadness. “Could you?  Save some face?  Pretend we’re still together?”  

“What party?”  You didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.  

“Steve and some of the team are coming over.  It’s casual.”  Bucky ran his fingers down his face.  “I told you about it last month.  Maybe I should cancel.  Not really in the mood for company.”

The guilt hit, and it hit hard. He looked so defeated. The last few months had been fun, and you did have feelings for the man.

“No.  Don’t cancel.”  You nodded.  “I value our relationship. Maybe one more night will give some closure.”  

“Tomorrow at eight?”  Bucky gave a half smile.  

“I’ll be there.”  You grabbed your purse.  “Goodbye Buck.”  

He gave you a nod.  You turned and left the shop.  Blinking away the tears that were forming.  You wanted this to end.  There was no reason for crying.

~~

This was awkward.  Bucky had texted you the time, but standing outside his apartment felt weird.  He made it clear he didn’t want his friends to know about your break-up.  What would that entail?  You hoped not a lot of PDA.  He knew you were over and better act like it.  

With a fist raised you knocked once and the door flung open.  

“Heyyyy.”  Steve reached out and gave you a hug, kissing you on the cheek.  “Since when do you knock?  Did Bucky not give you a key yet?”  

“I forgot it.”  You hugged him back, knowing you were going to miss him.  Bucky’s friends had always been so kind to you.  

You walked in to see the usual crowd.  Steve, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Wanda, Sam, Pepper.  Some of them had dates.  Nobody you didn’t know.   They were mingling amongst each other, giving you casual waves.  

“Buck made this fantastic punch.  I’ll get you a glass.”  Steve ran over to the kitchen table and you followed, trying to avoid the host for a little bit.  

“Whoa.  Is there a theme?”  You looked at the little spread of appetizers.  They were all black.  

The chips, the dips, the punch.  Every thing on the table was dyed black with food coloring.  

“You’re not allergic to coconut are you?”  Steve handed you a glass of black liquid.  

You shook your head.  

“What’s with all the black?”  You were hesitant to take a sip.  

“Ask your boyfriend.” Steve shrugged, grabbing a black chip and dipping it.  “I think it’s a pre-Halloween thing, but black or not the guacamole is delicious.”  

He dipped another chip and handed it to you.  While it didn’t look appetizing in the least you figured why not and took a bite.  

“Holy shit.” You brought your hand to your lips as the flavor his your lips.  “That is amazing.”  

“It all is.”  Steve gave an exaggerated head nod.  “Almost like he hired a professional chef.  Try the meatballs, the vegetable dip.  I mean everything on this table is phenomenal.  Take a sip of the punch.”  

You brought the drink to your mouth and nodded in agreement as it ran down your tongue.  Bucky wasn’t this good of a cook.  

“I was wondering when you would get here.”  Bucky put his arm on your waist as he walked around you, dropping it as your body stiffened.  “I see Steve is taking care of you?”  

“The food is amazing.”  You knew word vomit was coming.  You were nervous and always got that way.  “Why is it all black?”  

“Why not?”  Bucky shrugged as he picked up some form of breaded appetizer.  “Open up.”  

You parted your lips as he stuck the food in your mouth.  You had no clue what it was, but damn it was tasty.  Tony called for Steve and he moved into the other room, leaving you and Bucky alone.  

“Don’t worry.”  He smiled.  “I won’t make tonight strange.  Thank you for being here.”  

“You can’t cook like this.”  You wanted to change the subject.  “Did you get a caterer?”  

“I have some tricks up my sleeve.”  Bucky laughed.  “Maybe you didn’t know me as well as you thought.  Now come on.  It’s a small enough group I’m hoping we can do a few party games.”  

Your cheeks went warm as you followed him into the other room.  He winked at you as he tried to corral the party guests.  This was the Bucky you wanted.  The normal one, who was charming and caring. You bit the inside of your cheek, promising not to fall down that hole again.  He was ready to be a father.  He needed to find someone on his level and that wasn’t you.  

~~

The night flew by.  Pictionary, motor mouth, and even a few new games.  Bucky was so attentive always making sure your drink was filled and there was a little appetizer plate in front of you.  You were eating too much, but it was so delicious, blackness and everything.  

“I’ll be right back.”  It was the other team’s turn at Trivial Pursuit and you needed to use the bathroom.  

Nobody objected as you snuck away.   While you were alone you wondered if you had made the right choice.  It was so natural and easy with him.   But the baby stuff.  No.  That was too much.  You weren’t ready.  

After washing your hands and fixing yourself in the mirror a little you opened the door to see Bucky standing right there.  

“Hey.”  You didn’t want to have a deep conversation right now.  

“Thank you for doing this.”  He gave a smile.  “I’m sure they’ll all be heartbroken for me when I tell them the truth.  I hate to ask, but will you stay until the end?  I’ll pay for your Uber.”

“Of course.”  You could deal with that.  “I’ll miss them too.”

You didn’t want to give him any ideas.  No reconciliation.  

“Did you take your pill?”  Bucky raised an eyebrow.  

“Huh?”  Your stomach dropped.

“You take it every night at nine.  Just because we’re not together anymore,  I didn’t want you to forget.”  His smile dropped.  “I shouldn’t bring it up, but I’d hate to see you be irresponsible with a random at a bar.”  

“Oh.”  You had forgot.  “Don’t…that’s…I mean, don’t worry about that.  Thank you for the reminder.  My purse is in the kitchen.”  

You walked down the hallway with Bucky.  Thinking about his comment.  Was that where he was headed?  One night stands with randoms?  Why did the thought make you feel sick.  

“Here.”  Bucky filled you a fresh cup of the black punch. “To swallow.”  

“Right.”  Ugh.  You hated how he was making your knees week.  

You went into your purse and pulled out your pill, popping it in your mouth.  Was he trying to show you he wasn’t obsessed with a having a kid?  In the past he made jokes about flushing your pills.  Now he was on board?  Could he be relaxing?  

No.  You were over.  You weren’t falling down that path again.  He would find someone ready for what he wanted and you would keep on living your life the way you wanted to: kid free.  

“Let’s go back to the group.”  Bucky pushed off the table.  

You nodded and followed him.  Reminding yourself you were friends.  Nothing more.  This was what you wanted.  

~~

The food died down, but the drinks never did.  You imagined your tummy was filled with blackness, but even with the weird color it was delicious.  

“Alright, I’m calling it a night.”  Steve pulled out his phone.  “Ride will be here in a minute.”

You stood up from the couch to give him a hug goodbye.  He shook hands with Bucky.

“You better treat her right.”  Steve winked at you. “She’s a keeper.”  

The alcohol and over eating made your head dizzy.  Maybe Bucky should keep you?  Was it wrong to give him a second chance?  What if he did stop talking about you carrying his child?  

You didn’t want to have these thoughts, but tonight was perfect.  Reminded you of why you liked Bucky so much in the first place.  He shut the door on Steve and turned to face you.  

“Should I call you that car?”  He put his hands in his jeans as he walked passed you into the kitchen, starting to clean up the food.  “Or can I guilt you into some clean up?  The punch is almost done.  We can kill it together.”  

“I shouldn’t drink any more.”  You were teetering on drunk, and knew your resistance was going to fail.  

“But you want to.”  Bucky lifted up the bowl and split it into two cups.  “Who am I to deny you anything?”

A small smirk came to your face as you reached out and took the drink.   Then you walked to his cabinet and pulled out some tupper ware.  

“So who was the cook?”  You started to clean.  “I know it wasn’t you.”  

“I dyed it black.”  Bucky laughed.  “That’s something right?”  

“Tonight was a lot of fun.”  You knew you shouldn’t have this conversation, but couldn’t help yourself.  “Thanks for inviting me.  Maybe we can stay friends?”

“I don’t think so.”  Bucky smiled as he looked at you.  “It’s hard to be friends with someone you’re constantly thinking about fucking.”  

His words sent a chill through you.  This was a bad idea, but you answered before you could think.  

“You want to fuck me?”  You put the food down and crossed your legs, feeling your excitement growing.  

“Of course I do.”  Bucky squinted his eyes and took a step toward you.  “You’re the one who wanted this to end.  Remember?”  

“I’m not ready.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”  You hoped he wouldn’t make you say the word baby, kid, or child out loud.  

“Hey.”  His hand came up and cupped your cheek.  “I’m not talking about that.  I’m talking about me and you.  Together or not, you’re so beautiful.  All night I’ve thought about nothing but diving between your legs.”  

Red sirens went off in your head.  Bad idea. Bad idea.  But he was so gorgeous and your head was a little fuzzy from the alcohol.  Maybe you were overreacting.  

His head dipped down and lips crashed into yours.  You cooed at the familiarity as your arms went around his neck.  The way his mouth felt against yours was perfection.  His tongue slid out, rougher than normal, owning your mouth.  The gentleness vanishing as he tugged you closer, running his hands down your back to your ass, lifting you up.  

“This isn’t smart.”  You broke the kiss as Bucky carried you out of the kitchen.  “We want different things.”  

“Right now, the only thing I want is you.”  His eyes flashed heavy with lust as he went back in for the kiss.  “Only you.”  

You could handle that.  You wanted to handle that.  You purred into his mouth, clawing at Bucky until he got to the bedroom.  

Heavy swats and random kisses while you peeled off each other’s clothing.  Tearing at each other, the thirty six hours you’d been apart feeling like torture.  

“Bucky,  this doesn’t mean….” He kissed you, shutting you up as he flipped your down on the bed.  

You moaned as his arms hooked under your knees, putting your ankles on his shoulders.  He bent down and you moved with him so your thighs pressed against your chest and feet hit his back.

Bucky slid in with ease.  You shuddered, loving the way he filled you.   The position let him get deep.  Deeper than you were used to, making you wiggle around trying to get comfortable.  But he pushed forward and place his hands next to your head.  His weight was on you and you had to scoot down to support him, feeling his cock tap your cervix.  

“Fuck.”  You let out a heavy breath.

“No more talking.”  Bucky’s lips found yours.  He bit down hard and dragged his teeth back.  “Conversation is over.”  

That was music to your ears.

He pulled out and slammed back into you.  A squeal left your lips.  He was starting out hard, but it felt amazing.  There was no warm up as he fucked you into the mattress, the position giving you little to do but take his cock.  

The moans and whimpers started.  You ran your fingers through his hair as he moved his attention to your neck.  

“Never leaving me again.”  He bit down and you cried out.  “Never.”  

You couldn’t think straight.  DIdn’t want to either.  This was where you belonged, taking his cock long and hard.  

“Make you mine forever.”  His teeth dragged, sending tiny bolts of pain to the pleasure building in your core.  “You want that.  Don’t you?”  

His cock never gave up.  Pounding into you, forcing any working brain cells you had to vanish.  

You were moaning like crazy, clawing at him.   This was animalistic.  Like nothing you’d ever experienced before.  You were raw emotion and whatever noises you’d made he interpreted as agreement.  

“That’s a good girl.”  He pressed down inside of you hard, grinding his pelvis against your clit.  

The stimulation made you try to back away, but you were trapped by him.   You through your neck back and cried out.  The coil growing tighter and tighter.  

When Bucky pulled out again your bundle of nerves was swollen for him, needing more attention.   You whimpered as he went back to railing you instead, taking control of your body.  

“You feel so good baby.”  Bucky nipped at your ear.  “I’m going to cum, and then I’m going to cum again.  I’m not even going to stop.”  

You were dying.  The need growing more and more. You knew he wasn’t lying.  

“I’m going to leak out of you.”  He growled.  “Then blow more inside.  You’re going to drip me all over the sheets.”  

Your toes started to curl first.  Like you were trying to fight it, your body shouldn’t be responding to his words the way they were, but you wanted that.  The mental image too much.  

You thrashed underneath him as the spring went loose, flooding your body with ecstasy.  

Your orgasm spread as he bottomed out, his cock exploding inside you.  The cooing came back, a sheen of sweat covering your body.  You shivered around him, gasping for air while the feeling of fuzziness covered your entire body.  

You lost attention more a moment, only coming back when you realized he lived up to his promise and was back to fucking you again without even pulling out.  Why did you break up with him again?

“I’m going to fuck you silly.”  He moved a hand to grab your chin, focusing you on him.  “You’ll know where you belong by the end of the night.”  

You were at a loss for words, unsure if he was an angel or a devil.  But right now you didn’t care.  You were at his mercy and it felt like where you belonged.  

~~

She passed out.  Little breathes as she slept.  Bucky couldn’t stop rubbing her stomach.  There was there a baby in there.  He was certain of it.  

After all, he fed her enough charcoal and came in her enough.  Plus made sure she took her pill at just the right time to make it ineffective.  

She was going to learn her place soon enough.  As a mother to his child.  And she would be grateful.  He was certain.  

Plus he looked forward to the conversation:

“Bucky, I don’t understand.  I’m pregnant.  How did this happen?”  The nerves on her face.

“Well the pill is only effective 99% of the time.  We’re the one percent.”  He’d smile.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll take care of you and the baby.  Forever.”

[shxllxfx]

Desperation // Angel Reyes Imagine

Angel Reyes x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Angel get into a big fight

Warnings: a fight? I am bad at warnings lol. No insults or anything. Grammar? English isnt my mothertounge

A/N: an idea i got because of a song. If you wanna listen to it: Desperation  Eminem ft. Jamie N Commons

Words: 2282

Masterlist

If you wanna be added in my future posts, let me know :)

The third time today, Angel didn’t answer to you. In the morning, when you woke up, he wasn’t there. Already gone like the day before. When you wrote him a “good-morning-text” telling him you would be at the Mayans club house at 12 he read it but didn’t answer. You were annoyed to say at least.

None of the boys knew about you and Angel. There wasn’t really anything they could know. Angel came over occasionally, you watched a movie, cuddled, talked and most of the time he came over and both of you drove to the club house in the morning, together but not since a couple of days. At first Angel would wake up earlier, write you a message saying they had some business to take care of. The next day he would just leave, waiting for you to write him before he shortly answered but now? He didn’t even write you back. Your mind tried to calm you down. Maybe they are just busy and he can’t write back.

You checked your phone again. Nothing. With a sigh you got in your car and started it, making your way to the clubhouse. You needed to talk to Angel. When you arrived, no one was outside, but the bikes were there. So they were too. When you opened the door to the older building a smell you knew and loved hit you. Cigarettes, beer and motor oil. “Hey Y/N” Chucky said, running past you carry some stuff outside. You held the door open for him. “What’s up, Chucky? Everything all right?”  He gave you a quick nod and smiled before leaving. You let the door close and turned around, looking for Angel. Disgust flooded your face when you saw him sitting in a chair, some random girl on his lap. She was whispering something in his ear, which made him chuckle. When he brought his beer to his lips his eyes met yours. For a few second, he just looked at you, before turning his head back to the girl. She touched the side of his face, letting her fingers run over his jaw, just like you always did. Your heart ached. You couldn’t cry, not in here. They don’t know. They would just ask questions. Questions you didn’t want to hear right now. You didn’t know why he was acting like this. You thought there was something between the both of you.

Your head was prepped on his chest, with closed eyes you listened to his heartbeat. His fingertips ran over your side, occasionally stopping at the elastic of your sports bra. With a small smile on his lips he tilted his head down to yours, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. “Could get used to this.” He chuckled. Your heart skipped a beat. He never said anything like that too you. But today already started different. He made you breakfast in the morning, gave you a kiss before walking in the club house, occasionally gave you a small smile while you worked in the clubhouse, handing drinks to the other men around and sometimes you could even feel him staring at you. When you drove home after the end of your shift, he had to stay. He came outside to tell you he would come over later, pecking your lips with a boyish smile on his lips. Something he never did, especially not in front of the clubhouse. When he arrived at your place, he brought you your favorite food and watched your favorite show with you, even though he hated it. You looked up at him and smiled, bringing your hand up to his cheeks. He kissed your palm and you ran your fingertips over his jaw, making him smile like a little kid on Christmas.

The images of that night flashed before your eyes and you felt anger grow in your gut. You couldn’t cause a scene. You weren’t official. It still hurt. You knew you only had two options: Talking to him or starting your shift and simply ignoring him, which would be very tough. With wide, fast steps you made your way over to him. “Angel.” You blurted out. The other men sitting at the table looked at you. His head slowly turned to the side, facing you. Your eyes flew to the girl on his lap for a second, making you want to puke your guts out right there and then or punch Angel in the face in front of everyone. You didn’t know yet. “I need to talk to you. Alone. Its important.” He raised an eyebrow. Bishop chuckled. “Reyes, what did you do?” A low chuckle from the others made you straighten your back. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you. You were angry. Heat radiated from your body. “Like right now Angel.” You said through gritted teeth. If he wouldn’t get up, you would start a scene. You didn’t care. You were angry and ready to punch him in his face. He patted the girls back, which made her get up with a groan. You rolled your eyes as she gave you a death glare. When he followed you outside, you felt your anger grow even more. Gripping his wrist, you almost ripped him out of the club house.

“What is going on?” You asked, exhaling to calm your nerves. “I don’t know what you mean, (Y/N).” You felt your hands starting to shake as he crossed his arms before his chest. “Oh really? Save the bullshit for your bitch inside, Angel.”  Now you crossed your arms. “You really wanna play it like that, huh? As if nothing happened between us? Who are you trying to kid?” You voice started to shake. He scoffed and leaned his head to the side. “What happened between us? You mean that I stayed over a couple of times? God, didn’t know you would get your hopes up that fast, querida.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “What do you mean? I-I- That between us, I- I thought…” You took a step back, tears starting to flood your eyes. “What? That its love? C`mon you didn’t really think that I love you? That you love me? It was fun for a while but- “You cut him off when your hand flew to his cheek, turning his head to the side. “I did. God I’m such an idiot. I love you and you just wanted something to play with?” The first tear left your eye. “Y/N, you know this aint love.” His voice was calm, but he couldn’t look at you. “What is it then, huh?” You were screaming now, letting your anger out. “Its desperation. You are desperate for someone to love you, but it aint me, Y/N.” He turned around. “Just go home. Ill tell Bishop you’re not feeling well.” With a shocked expression and tears running down your face you watched him go back in the club house.

It has been a week since your fight with Angel and the two of you hadn’t talked since then. You knew that the others felt something going on between the two of you. Angel was constantly stressed and angry, easy to piss off. And you? At first you called in sick, you couldn’t stand seeing him, After two days you came back. You were more daring. Talking to the others more, completely ignoring Angel, playfully flirting with the others. They took it as a joke, nothing serious. Today was one of your shifts at the clubhouse. It was Bishops birthday and even though he says he hates celebrating his birthday, they always threw him a small party with loads of alcohol. You looked at yourself in the mirror. A black crop top and your favorite jeans, that hugged your curves so perfectly were the best look for a day like this. You put on your leatherjacket and took the little present for Bishop before getting into your car and driving to the MC.

“Hola Corazon” Coco opened the door after he heard your car, giving you a quick hug. “Hey. How’s the birthday kid?” You heard him chuckle while walking behind you. “Kid? The old man is by the pool table.” He made a quick pause, grabbing your hand and pulling you back a bit. You stopped. “Angel is there too. “ Your heart stopped and yet you shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck. I’m here for Bishop and his party.” You smiled and pulled him to the pool table by his hand. “I am here to have fun.”

When you walked towards the pool table all eyes were on you, holding Cocos hand. You let go and walked to Bishop with open arms, the present in the hand Coco didn’t just hold. “Happy birthday, Bish.” You smiled and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your torso before squeezing you for a second. “Thanks querida.” You quickly pecked his cheek before pushing away and giving him your present. He smiled at you and took it. “Got you a little something. Hope you like it.” You felt Angels eyes on you when you walked over to the bar, taking the beer Ez gave you. “Wanna tell me what’s going on between the two of you? Angels been pissed ever since you talked to him.” Ez eyes wandered to his brother. “And he is staring at us.” When Ez eyes were at you again, you smiled. “I don’t know. It’s a long story.” A sudden need to talk to someone about what happened overtook you. And who would be better than Ez? After all he knows his brother better than anyone else. “You can tell me.” He nodded to the door. “Wanna talk outside?” With a quick nod from you he walked to the door, arm over your shoulder as he always does.

“He-We…God I don’t even know where to start.” You shook your head as you sat down on, he stairs next to him. “Let’s just say there was something. Or at least I thought there was something. He made it clear that that wasn’t the case.” You looked at your hands, rubbing small circles on the back of it. “What did he say?” Ezekiel was a good listener, always has been. Your jaw clenched thinking back at his words. “That it wasn’t love and that I am just desperate for someone to love me.” His eyes widened in shock. You head just nodded. “He didn’t mean that. See…there has been a lot going on recently…with the club, our dad…you should talk to him again.” You let your head fall on his shoulder. With a long sigh you closed your eyes, enjoying silence for a minute. You missed him, his hugs, his lips, cuddling with him on the sofa, laughing, watching a movie. It hurt. You heard the door open. Steps coming closer to the two of you made you open your eyes. “I will go back inside.” Ez said, looking behind you. Now you knew who was standing there. Angel. “Yeah. Thank you, Ez.” He stood up, giving you a nod. His steps were heavy on the wood, just like Angels before. You heard him stop and pad Angels shoulder before walking inside. You looked up. It was already dark, the stars on the sky sparkled brightly. His weight made the step you sat on complain for a second. It was quiet. He didn’t say a word, just like you.  His smell wandered in your nose. Cigarettes, beer and motor oil. “I’m an asshole.” He sighed. You didn’t answer, it was like your lips were sealed. “I didn’t mean what I said, its just-“ He stopped. “I love you. And that shit scares me.” You turned your head to face him. The light that lit up his face came from the clubhouse and wasn’t bright. You tried to search his face for any other expression than the one it had right now. Regret. “I live a dangerous life, Y/N. I don’t want you to get hurt or worse. I-I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.” Your head slowly nodded up and down, eyebrows raised. He said it. “You love me?” It was the only thing that left your mouth. He nodded. “I chose this life, Angel. I chose to take the job here. I chose to. I wanted it. I knew it was dangerous.” He didn’t say anything. “It was my decision and so far, I’ve never regretted it once. This club isn’t only your family, it became mine too. I love this club. I love you. And I have never felt more save in my whole life. But when you said that I-“ He cut you off. His words were fast and you were lucky to understand him. “I didn’t mean that. Oh god, Y/N . You aren’t desperate for love. That was just- I wanted you to forget me. I wanted to forget you. I thought it was better that way but I can’t. I love you and I fucking miss you. The only one that is desperate is me.” A small smile grew on your face. You cupped his face with your hands and pulled him to you, pressing your lips on his. He was quiet, didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. His hands grabbed your hips, lifting you up to place you on his lap. You broke the kiss to breath. “I am so sorry, mi dulce.” He pressed his forehead against yours. You nodded slowly. “I love you, idiot.” He let out a small laugh before pressing his lips on yours once again. “I love you so much.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Boys and Girls

Inspired by Boys and Girls by Alabama Shakes. A little sweet birthday blurb/mini fic. 

I am taking commissions by the way!

Calum likes to take it easy on his birthday. And she’s got a sweet little plan. 

___________

I’m rescuing you from the bars tonight. 11 pm sharp. 

Calum relays the message to Ashton, the man in charge of climbing-into-birthday-hours festivities. Calum’s birthday celebrations usually only went for a day. He liked having some time to be at peace during the day on his actual birthday. The idea of pre-graming his birthday the night before and then having a nice dinner the day of was ideal to appease the friend group that never fully needed a reason to go out onto the town. 

Ashton nods though at Calum’s request. “You know the party will be rolling on for a while if you ever care to rejoin us.”

“I’m aware,” Calum returns as his phone shakes again with a message from her. Wear something cozy too.

This is the sort of deal people get when they’re getting kidnapped you know, he replies with a grin on his face. 

Trust me, this is not the warning a kidnapper gives. 

Any clue on what’s going down?

No. No clues. 

That’s the last time Calum’s phone shakes from her. He assumes it might be work and doesn’t bombard her with any more messages. Though he does think it’s unfair, he doesn’t want to fully ruin whatever surprise she has planned. Both of them have been friends ever since Calum spilled his drink in the cafe that she worked. She wheeled the mop out with a laugh as Calum apologized profusely. 

“Accidents happen. Let me get you a refill.” She covered the spill, or at least the majority of it, up with the dingy yellow bucket, before going back behind the counter and washing her hands. The machines kicked back to life. She personally walked the drink over to him. 

“I swear I’m not this much of a klutz most days,” Calum sighed. 

“Well, I am. So let me tell you, it’s not the end of the world. Drink your coffee. The caffeine will get those motor skills right again.”

Calum was thankful that at this time of the day the cafe wasn’t busy or else the morning crowd running to get their caffeine before their days started would not have been pleased with his accident. After that, Calum returned to the cafe more regularly. She had memorized his order so that on sight she had the card reader ready as she ran down the specifics.  They chatted during her breaks sometimes. They grabbed lunch at the little Mexican restaurant across the street during her lunch break.

She was always planning something, Calum had learned. When he mentioned Duke, on more than one occasion, she asked about his birthday and what kind of toys and treats he liked. The questions had not prepared him for when she knocked on his door about mid-morning three weeks later with a huge basket in her hands. It was filled with toys, treats, and a couple other necessities like doggy bags and training pads. It didn’t stop her from mailing him flowers on Valentine’s Day with a note that read, Love sucks. But you don’t. So here are some flowers. Calum still uses that notecard a bookmark in all the random novels and collections of poetry that he reads. 

****************

The bars are packed; the streets are buzzing with people and heels clicking and loud laughter. It’s to be expected on a Friday night in a city is constantly on. Calum keeps a close eye on the time. He doesn’t dare want to miss his rendezvous time. He promised to share his location at 10:00 and again at 10:30 so she could figure how far into the city his friends had carried him. It’s early now, just barely ticking past 9 pm. They agreed to take the night slow so that everyone could actually remember ringing in the birthday and so Calum wouldn’t be sloppy when she came to get him. 

The first sip of alcohol burns a little--it’s not great. Calum screws his face up and wants to ask who the hell ordered the first round. But a mixed drink is slipped into his hands soon after. The nearly sour taste is gone under the slight fizz of his new concoction. They're ushered upstairs to VIP, hands stamped as they go. From above, Calum can see the mass of bodies on the floor below. He watches them, swaying collective in the first haze of alcohol slowly dulling his senses. 

The lights strobe, flashing reds, yellows, and purples across his face. Calum doesn’t really pay attention, attempting to suck in the smell of sweat and old alcohol. He lets the buzzing of the speakers blasting music crawl into his ear, peel back his eardrum and nestle into his brain. He takes another sip, feeling the warmth radiating from his chest. Laughter erupts from behind him and he turns to rejoin civilization, the collection of his friends settling onto couches. 

Calum nurses the drink until they decide to leave. He checks his phone again to see the time. 10 pm. They wonder for just a block before landing another bar. This one smaller, more intimate. When the whole group settles into a booth, Calum pulls up her thread. He slides right under the message bar and taps on the small Google Maps icon. It takes a moment before his GPS locates the address and he taps for it to send. 

She responds with the thumbs-up emoji before another one lights up his screen. I’m actually not too far from there. Let me know if you guys wander to the strip club. 

Calum can almost hear the sarcastic lilt, the little giggle she’d give if this were in person. There would be a seriousness to her face though. She’d laugh but her tone always told on her. Always said that she wasn’t truly joking. I won’t. Unless you’re working tonight, which means I have to, of course, support you.

I do not have the body for a stripper. But thanks for the vote of confidence you goober.

A can clinks on the table and Calum looks up. He recognizes that can anywhere and grins. “Thanks.”

It’s here, when the group shimmies themselves out onto the dancefloor, that Calum knows they won’t be heading anywhere else. He calls for a quick breather and leans against the booth and finds his phone. I think we’re here for the rest of the night. It’s 10:48 when he sends the text and pockets his phone again. He spies Luke attempting to pass along the wave but no one bites and he laughs into his can. 

One of their photographers and good friend walks over. “You waiting for someone or enjoying your birthday?”

“Both,” Calum returns, still grinning. He can feel his cheeks splitting a little with the slightly tipsy laughter that shakes him. Ashton’s attempts at teaching his dance are going poorly, but the older man refuses to give up. 

“Easy there big fella,” Calum bellows when another friend almost goes face-first into the floor. Calum helps him steady. “Dancing is not for you.”

They laugh in return. “Maybe not. No.”

Calum feels the shake in his pocket of his phone. He gives his goodbyes, though most of them don’t hear or don’t really acknowledge his parting. It’s 11:00 pm sharp when he steps outside and reads her text. Outside. He spies her, leaning against the front of her car. And he knows it’s her thanks to the banana colored leather jacket. She’s worn it almost every day it seemed that he’s known her. 

It was different for sure and it was starting to show it’s length of wear. But she wore it all the same and didn’t care. He checked the size once, plans brewing to maybe replace it with something similar or get another one. He spied one that was burgundy that he thought she might like. He wasn’t sure, but the cropped jacket had all the chains it could handle and he knew she like the zipper and chains. 

When he gets closer, she runs over and wraps her arms around his middle. “Hey,” he whispers, encasing her waist with his arms. 

“Hey,” she grins. They remain close, swaying a bit with the hug, for a few minutes. She pulls back first. Her smile is bright in the neon lights of the bar. “It’s a bit of a drive. But I brought snacks!”

Calum nods. “Snacks are good.” They walk to her car, though it’s not that far with his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. “What’s in store for me?”

“Just you wait and see.” 

Calum can see Duke when he cracks open the door, curled up in her backseat. “How’d you get into my house?”

“You gave me a spare key you idiot. He’s a sleepy boy, so keep your voice down.” Calum is careful as he picks up Duke before settling into the passenger seat. The windows are cracked and when she finally gets up onto the interstate, Calum lets the breeze whip across his face, one hand gently petting at Duke’s head. 

Her radio plays quietly, much better compared to the rattle of the clubs where he couldn’t hear his own voice talking. The moonlight is bright on the clear night and even though the lights are polluting the sky, Calum makes a point to follow the moon as they zoom south on 110. As they pass buildings, Calum notes which windows are bright and which ones are dark. He wonders what’s happening there. If someone is gearing up for a late-night binge or if they are getting ready for the day ahead of them. What does it feel like to have a job where the clock starts dead in the night and ends when the morning sun has skirted around the horizon? The same could be said for his job, for his line of living but it’s different. He gets a break and snaps back to reality here and there. 

“Thanks for letting me kidnap you,” she says, as they get stuck behind just a small bit of traffic. 

“You told me that wasn’t a warning that kidnappers gave.”

“It is. But I never said I wasn’t a kidnapped. Besides you’re a grown man, is it still kidnapping? What’s the version for adults being snatched up?”

“I’m not The Google,” Calum retorts before pulling out his phone. For a brief moment he wonders if he should actually Google this question. The search history would not look good if something were to happen. But he knows nothing will. 

“According to The Google,” Calum starts, “‘A kidnapping does not have to include a child. To kidnap is to take someone illegally by force, whether they be adult or child.’ So, to answer your question, yes, it is.”

“The Google has spoken.”

Putting his phone into the empty cup holder, Calum reaches for the dial on her stereo. “Birthday rights?” he asks before touching the dial.

“You know you’re the only one that control the radio even if I’m driving. I’d murder anyone else.”

“I’d be careful about that kind of stuff. Duke is sensitive about that.”

“It’s not like I said I’d murder you. And if I did, I would steal Duke and run away.”

Calum squawks his laughter, wanting to hit her leg gently but reframing because of her driving. “That’s wrong on so many levels.”

“Duke would be the only one that would know. He’d rat me out. And normally, I’d say kill all the witness but I can’t in this situation.”

Calum just watches her in disbelief. The lights of the highway pass over her skin in patches. “God bless the person that snatches you up,” he murmurs. She looks at him, a bit of a glare and her lower lip rolls out. But then she laughs before turning her attention back to the road. “Where are those snacks?” he asks. 

She throws her thumb over her shoulder and Calum twists, to find a reusable bag full of snacks. He grabs the bag of cheez-its on top and pops open the mostly air-filled bag. The cheese dust falls a little and Calum makes sure to lean a little over Duke’s sleeping figure. The first bag goes faster than Calum cares to admit and when he goes back for another bag, she laughs. “How drunk are you?”

“I had a shot and two drinks!” he defends, popping open the second bag too. “So bite me.”

It’s when they find the shore and Calum catches the crashing of the waves that he starts to worry. No beach can be open at 11:53 at night. But as they near and he peers the sign, stating they’re 24 hours, he swallows back down the protest. The whole boardwalk is alive though. He can see the lights reflecting off the water and the line of neon lights. People are walking in and out of the dive bars and pups. “You know we could’ve gone to Santa Monica for the beach?” he returns. 

“Oh, c’mon that was a nice drive.”

He nods, taking her hand for a brief moment. They always have nice drives. Just feeling the wind and talking about everything under the sun. His eyes dance across the scenery. Duke’s aroused awake but Calum holds him close. She goes around to the trunk and it’s only the sound of it slamming close that gains his attention. She’s got a basket in one hand and the tote on her shoulder. “I can help.”

She shakes her head before trailing ahead of him. They pause for a moment to work off shoes before delving into the sand. Calum takes a deep breath of the seawater, the way it’s lapping at the shoreline. She places a blanket down not too far into their trek and Calum continues on, pausing to set Duke down for just a moment. Calum works up the legs of his jeans. The movement causes Duke to wake and watch. His paws hit the sand faster than she can catch him and Calum notices the clinking of tags before he hits the water. 

“I don’t think she’s prepared for wet dog smell for an hour, bub.”

Calum steps until the water hits his ankles and stops. The water is definitely cold. It makes him clench his jaw a little. But he likes the shock. Takes a bit of the heat off from the alcohol. He’s almost 24, almost inching towards more milestones in his life. He wonders what 24 will bring him--if it’ll be nice in love and bigger in success. Does he even need to worry about success?

How come 24 really doesn’t feel any differently than 23 or 22? Age was catching up, he noticed. His body not breaking down food like before, the random aches in his knees sometimes. Though he blamed too many punk jumps from the early days. Maybe just felt differently when he didn’t feel like he was racing against a clock or someone else’s expectations. His life was going well and that’s all he could really ask for. He still had his health, he could still spoil his mother and his sister like he wanted as a thanks to them. He could even spoil his old man and his friends. 

Yeah, his relationship with time had changed. He wasn’t running for anything and didn’t have to anymore. Things would come in due time. All he had to do was just be there for the opportunities when they came knocking. 

“Happy birthday!” she cheers. “Officially 12:01, January 25th.”

Calum turns to find her, not too far behind him with a cupcake in hand. “You didn’t tell me there were cupcakes.”

“There are always cupcakes!” She is not a singer. By no stretch would she ever consider the profession, but her voice is lovely as she sings Happy Birthday to Calum, standing in freezing water and the candle flickering in the breeze off the water. He worries that the flame will go out but her hand cups against the air and it remains lit. 

Calum’s gentle as he blows out the candle, eyes still closed from his wish. She pulls the candle free and shoves the icing into his nose. Calum huffs, attempting to lick it off. He’s thwarted by his own tongue and trying to keep Duke away from it too. Her giggles echo against the waves. He can’t even be mad. They hike back to the blanket and she hands him a napkin to clean his nose.

He swipes the icing off and dollops it onto her nose. The cupcake is still moist as he takes a bite of it. “I know it’s not a lot. But I know home means a lot to you.”

Calum’s quick to scarf down the rest of the cupcake. The drinks have him still just a hair fuzzy and he’s sure the sugar’s only going to serve him into a headache, but for the moment he can indulge himself into the sweet treat. She holds out the small gray velvet box.

“I’m just glad it’s not a giant basket of stuff like you did for Duke. Transporting that into my house drunk would be a stuff time.”

She snorts. “Which is why I’m sober. I’ll keep that in mind for next year.”

Calum looks at her, fingers still poised around the gray box. Next year. A funny phrase to think about when the hallmark of his physical body has already hit. “We’re gonna be friends so long they’re going to write stories about us.”

Her nod is curt. “Open the fucking present. I can’t wait for you to cry like a baby.”

He balks, eyes widening. “I would never do such a thing.” Her pursed lips and quirked eyebrow state otherwise. “Okay, maybe just a little.” 

The box is a little stiff to open and when his eyes land on the gold ring with two silver ferns etched into his, his heart races. His eyes sting a little. “Really?” He hates that she was right but the first teardrops and his lower lip wobbles a little. “For me?”

“I don’t know any other Māori men that would want a silver fern ring, so yeah for you.”

Calum doesn’t even slip it on. He just reaches out and brings her into his chest. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.”

“Love you too, Cal.” There’s just a moment’s silence before she pokes his side. “I told you you’d blubber.”

“Shut up. Let me have this moment. It’s my birthday, asshole.” She giggles into his chest but remains silent on the snarky remarks. 

Calum watches the ring catches the light as they return to the highway. The gold is bright and flashes. He hasn’t stopped staring at it and though he hasn’t gotten back into wearing rings too much, he knows from this moment on, he’s going to be wearing this one every day. The ferns disappear just a little when he tilts it away from him but when he brings the flat face back into his view he sees their etchings. 

Ashton’s messages are unanswered on the drive back home because Calum can’t bring himself to look at anything other than a ring and the girl sitting next to him. God, he’s lucky to have her in his life. They haven’t known each other that long, in comparison to the decade he’s spent with the guys. But the two years have been full of stupid inside jokes, like adding ‘the’ in front of Google and a constant string of text that consists of ‘you suck but you’re stuck with me. so I still love you’ and pictures of dogs she sees at work. 

It’s just past one in the morning when she pulls into Calum’s driveway. He insists on her staying the night since it’s so late and she has to be up early. There’s no real protesting, even as he shoves her into the bathroom to shower. “What about a deal?” she asks, watching him turn the water on. 

“No deal. Just stay here. It’s too late for you to be driving.”

“You can drive,” she grins. 

“I’ve been drinking so I will be driving nothing. Now, strip and shower. I won’t be hearing any further arguments on the case.”

“We’ve watched too many law shows,” she counters, leaning into the door. 

“Or maybe not enough,” Calum counters, kissing her forehead. He turns from the door, pulling at the sleeves of his jacket. 

“If I ever did start striping, would you actually come to the club to see me?”

Calum nods, a hum falling over his lips. She’s hidden by the door but her head peaks out over it. “I surely would. Once you got a solo dance, I’d spent a thousand on you in a heartbeat.”

“You flatter me, Hood.” 

“What else are friends for?”

The door creaks closed and he’s a little slow to take off his clothes. Soon the shoes, jeans, and shirt fall into a pile onto the floor. He has half a mind to kick them over to his laundry basket but he falls into his bed. She’ll do it and fuss the entire too at him. To his shock, when she returns, she falls into bed next to him. 

“I feel bad that I have to work on your birthday,” she admits. 

“You’ll be there for the dinner though, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then it’s all good, sweetheart.” She curls up under his sheets, Duke pressed into her chest. “Happy birthday,” she repeats, eyes falling closed. 

“You’re the best, ya know?” Calum returns. He’s sure she has succumbed to sleep and he’ll follow her soon into unconsciousness but he toughs it out a moment or two longer after her. “Glad you’re my best friend.”

He watches her chest fall evenly under the sheets. She’s asleep, he concludes when she gives no rebutall, so he clicks off the bedside lamp. “Ashton’s going to be pissed if he hears I took his place.” Her cheeks squished into the pillow makes her voice muffled as she speaks. 

Calum’s laughter shakes his chest. He finds one of the smaller pillows from behind his head and throws it blindly in the direction of her side of the bed. “Oof,” she huffs at the impact. 

“Tell him and I have to kill you.”

“Okay, secret’s safe with me.” More silence ensues. Calum feels himself sinking into the mattress. It’s not hard thanks to the alcohol making his limbs heavy. “For now.”

“Oh my god, if you do not shut up.”

“What are you going to do? Hit me with another pillow.” Calum gives no verbal rebuttal but finds the last pillow at his disposal and whacking her with it. “Ouch!” she hisses. “I’m not fixing you breakfast tomorrow then. Take that.”

“You mean later this morning.”

Calum gets a pillow to the chest and it partially clips his chin in response. “Hey!”

“Good night, Hood.”

“Good night, sweetheart.” The bed dips and then there’s nothing else. He just sinks, and sinks, and sinks. 

Tagging: @glitterlukey @5-secondsofcolor @irwinkitten @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles

[ixnova]

Pathfinder x SO hcs

SINCE NO ONE ELSE IS REALLY DOING IT i GUESS i’LL HAVE TO PROVIDE IT MYSELF. GOTTDAMN AND Y’ALL CALL YOURSELVES A FANDOM. (I kid.)

He’s your friend first, boyfriend second.

Like he just genuinely cares about you romantic or not.

Literally info dumped everything on you the first day you two met, explained APEX, his goal to find his creator, etc.

Get’s a lot of dating advice from Mirage and the interwebs, is completely cheesy with it because of this.

Gives you flowers and gifts in excess amounts until he kinda learns for himself how to handle a relationship.

You’re his first and probably only.

Will take you on dinner dates and such even though he can’t eat. He just enjoys watching you eat and chatting to you while you eat.

Great for Netflix and chill, he loves watching new tv shows and such. He really wants to know what happens next but will wait for you.

Probably does too much “research” online and becomes paranoid about losing you sometimes.

Doesn’t get the concept of sleep but knows you need it and will keep you company while you sleep. Maybe move his charging station into the bedroom.

He can be cold or warm depending. Metal is naturally cooler to the touch but he’s warmer towards his core where his computer screen is. You can hear his fans going if you listen closely enough.

Not actually comfy to cuddle with, but you’d get used to it and find a position that works. Very chunky and bulky. Sometimes he puts pillows and such between himself so you can rest better.

He can actually wear certain clothing even tho he doesn’t need it. Got a few jackets from APEX and such, but they have to be oversized to fit him, so bonus for you when you steal them.

Honestly why steal them though just ask and he will give them to you, he doesn’t need them.

He’s not one to scare easily by normal means but he has his limits, will hide behind you and curl up with you when he does feel threatened. Lightning storms are one of the niche things that gets to him.

Always down to make you laugh, Will rehash jokes constantly, borderlines on telling dad jokes. Somehow he manages to get a chuckle out of you every goddamn time.

You love it though, you know you do.

He’s completely infatuated with you simply because you’re human. He likes seeing how you react to things, learning how you operate. He’s just interested in humans in general, but something’s special about you.

He’s not really sure what the emotions he feels really are, but he supposed based on research, “love” might be the closest thing to describe it.

Not many would expect it from his bubbly personality but he’s actually easily jealous when others flirt with you.

We’re talking rehashing some trash talk insults he learned online telling someone to leave you alone and go away when he’s had just about enough of them pestering you.

one of the few times hes actually mean, instantly feels bad about it later though... but not sorry.

You’re his. He doesn’t mean to be possessive and he doesn’t freak out when you’re out alone without him, but it’s just like, he’d like for you to be his.

He’d take you ziplining for fun sometimes, if you’re not afraid of heights.

Prepare for having to answer lots of questions, he’s curious about everything and if you’re spending time with him you’re gonna get the brunt of it.

Also expect to be told completely random facts, he loves learning about stuff!

“Turtles can breathe through their butts, how interesting!”

Would probably tell everyone that he’s dating you, even random strangers.

He’s called out to you live on APEX a few times making sure you’re watching or dedicating a win to you.

It’s a bit embarrassing but he means well.

“Everyone! This is my girlfriend!”

He’s just proud of you man.

He’d also be super supportive of you and whatever you’d want to do in life.

and when that doesn’t work out he’d be there to cheer you up.

Brings you all of your favorite things, including himself of course.

No more tears, let’s go watch our favorite Netflix show.

Takes pictures of you all the time without you even knowing, benefits of being a robot.

He just saves them for personal use, to look at when he misses you. Nothing weird though, its not like he watches you sleep or anything!

He thinks you’re beautiful all the time, even when you know you’re not at your best.

He just really, really likes you. He hopes you feel the same.

There that should fill the void for awhile. But while I’m here.... NSFW under cut.

As we all know, it’s canon that he can fuck. Of course he’d put that knowledge to use in a relationship if you were okay with it.

Probably learned about sexual intercourse while browsing the web and found porn or something.

Maybe picked it up from just learning about humans in general and with that comes information on mating patterns.

He’s extremely inexperienced though, so you’d have to personally show him how things are done.

He’d draw comparisons to videos and such he’d seen online, so at least he’d be aware if he was hurting you or not. Which he’d never do intentionally.

Your first time was probably extremely silly and awkward, but it was alright.

He doesn’t exactly have a dick or anything, naturally anyway, but he does have hands.

If you like being fingered you’re in for a real treat, he’s surprisingly good at that.

He’s always intrigued by your moans and like seeing how your body reacts to his touch. Sometimes he tries new things just to see how you’d react.

Even though he doesn’t really get much out of it, knowing you’re enjoying it is all he needs.

Extremely lame at dirty talk, he’s just too nice. He will read scripts and repeat quotes from online porno to try and get you going but it just falls flat because its rehearsed.

Probably would be best as a dom, no, he’s decided from watching videos and such that he wants to be the dom. Submissive just doesn’t suit him.

I can’t express how bad he is at dirty talk though, its funny. “I’ve been very bad.” “What? Who said that? I think you are doing wonderful, friend!”

Maybe later on you’d experiment with strap ons, or maybe someone in this wild universe can customize him a dick attachment. 

That’d get a bit more interesting, he’d again reference what he’d seen online and try to go down on you.

He gets to be closer to you this way, and its odd because he likes it though he can’t explain why.

Those handles around his screen and such are GREAT to hold onto while riding, FYI.

He’s a robot so he never runs out of energy so he can go for as long as you want to, and then some.

He might forget himself once or twice, perhaps get a bit too into it, but all you have to do is say stop and he will instantly drop everything.

He loves your body, he loves every inch of you, expect metal hands to explore and violate every part of your being.

Oddly enough, sexual intercourse really gets his motors going. Perhaps another one of his many emotions is possible arousal.

You’re often going at it above the sheets or in a colder room, he WILL overheat eventually.

You’ll have to pay attention sometimes, he won’t tell you he’s overheating for fear of ruining the mood, or interrupting your enjoyment.

Bondage? BDSM, yeah he’s heard of it. Maybe he’s itching to try a few things with you, if you wanted.

He’s not into the cuffs and whips though. Oh no he has a very special kind of kink.

Ropes are fantastic, you can zipline with them, grapple onto stuff... Tie people up.

You ever seen those very intricate rope art porno? Yeah.

Yes he uses the ziplines rope.

He’ll never tie it too tight though, just enough to keep you in place.

He makes cute patterns with it while he’s tying. small hearts, sometimes ties roses into the design.

You are a canvas and he is the artist, he’s quite proud of the tie when he’s done.

He’d much rather gaze at you and admire his work than fuck you sometimes when you play like this.

Extremely big on after care. He’ll cuddle you and tell you how well you did and that he enjoyed it too. He’d make sure you’re okay and tell you that he loves you!

Although he’d never hurt you purposely, sex is always a bit rough with him no matter how gentle he is. You’ll always have a few bruises here and there. Around the hips, thighs, wrists, it’s just the nature of the beast.

You kind of dig the markings though.

[fromtheringapron]

WCW Starrcade 1990

Date: December 16, 1990.

Location: Kiel Auditorium in St. Louis, MO.

Attendance: 7,200.

Commentary: Jim Ross and Paul Heyman.

Results:

1. Bobby Eaton defeated The Z Man.

2. Pat O’Connor Memorial Tag Team Tournament, Round 1: The Steiner Brothers (Rick and Scott) (USA) defeated Col. DeKlerk and Sgt. Krueger (South Africa).

3. Pat O’Connor Memorial Tag Team Tournament, Round 1: Konan and Rey Misterio (Mexico) defeated Chris Adams and Norman Smiley (United Kingdom). 

4. Pat O’Connor Memorial Tag Team Tournament, Round 1: Mr. Saito and The Great Muta (Japan) defeated Rip Morgan and Jacko Victory (New Zealand). 

5. Pat O’Connor Memorial Tag Team Tournament, Round 1: Salman Hashimikov and Victor Zangiev (Russia) defeated Danny Johnson and Troy Montour (Canada). 

6. Michael Wallstreet (with Alexandra Yorke) defeated Terry Taylor. 

7. The Skyscrapers (Sid Vicious and Danny Spivey) defeated The Big Cat and The Motor City Maniac. 

8. Tommy Rich and Ricky Morton (with Robert Gibson) defeated The Fabulous Freebirds (Michael PS Hayes and Jimmy Garvin) (with Little Richard Marley). 

9. Pat O’Connor Memorial Tag Team Tournament, Semi-Final: The Steiner Brothers (Rick and Scott) (USA) defeated Konan and Rey Misterio (Mexico).

10. Pat O’Connor Memorial Tag Team Tournament, Semi-Final: Mr. Saito and The Great Muta (Japan) defeated Salman Hashimikov and Victor Zangiev (Russia).

11. Texas Lariat Match for the NWA United States Heavyweight Championship: Lex Luger defeated Stan Hansen (champion) to win the title. 

12. Street Fight for the NWA World Tag Team Championship: Doom (Ron Simmons and Butch Reed) (champions) (with Theodore Long) fought Arn Anderson and Barry Windham to a no-contest. 

13. Pat O’Connor Memorial Tag Team Tournament, Final: The Steiner Brothers (Rick and Scott) (USA) defeated Mr. Saito and The Great Muta (Japan). 

14. Steel Cage Match for the NWA World Heavyweight Championship Match: Sting (champion) defeated The Black Scorpion. 

My Review

The 1990 edition of Starrcade is an outright bad show. Amusingly bad, yes, but it’s still a pretty resounding failure. The cherry on the shit sundae, of course, is The Black Scorpion, one of WCW’s most infamous creative blunders. The storyline leading up to Starrcade was a lot of pulpy early ‘90s hokum⏤a mystery man, who may also be some sort of wizard, haunts world champion Sting for months with a groggy voice provided none other than Ole Anderson. It was completely ridiculous and demanded an equally ridiculous payoff.

What makes it suck so bad, however, is that not only is the reveal underwhelming, but it’s also boring. The Scorpion, first and foremost, is dressed like a masked jobber on an episode of WWF Superstars. Then it’s revealed the Scorpion is Ric Flair, the same man who Sting had already faced off with a billion times in the past two years. It’s admittedly interesting watching Flair try to completely abandon his style to play a new character, but the match itself is a by-the-numbers chore. Oh, and Dick the Bruiser is here as a terrible special guest ref who adds completely nothing. At least the Scorpion has the decency to enter the Kiel Auditorium through a spaceship that looks like your grandmother’s antique lamp.

But that’s not all, folks! We’re also treated to the Pat O’Connor Memorial Tag Team Tournament, featuring teams from all over the world. A noble ideal, but the talent pool is, um, underwhelming to say the least. For example, we get wrestlers billed from “South Africa” who clearly aren’t from that country. Not that it winds up mattering anyway, because the whole point is for the Americans to beat them all. The matches are also hindered by some blown finishes that really kill the mood. It’s just a series of missed opportunities that could’ve been much a cooler concept if they’d thought more outside the box than “Welp, America wins LOL!”

It should be noted this is the second out of four consecutive tournaments WCW would book for their biggest show of the year. This is firmly ensconced in the era where the booking for Starrcade started to get a little wonky, anyway. I’m not sure how much of it had to do with them trying to distance themselves from the NWA name as much as possible or what, but it took away from Starrcade’s standing as a marquee show. It says a lot about this time period for WCW⏤constantly throwing one gimmick out there after another in hopes something would eventually stick.

It’s kinda sad, because it’s clear they didn’t need to go so far out of their way to establish their own identity. So many pieces of the puzzle are present in this show, from the production to the roster. It’s when they work overtime in competing with the WWF that things falls apart, a mistake they’d go on to repeat several times over. Collision Course is a fitting tagline for Starrcade ’90, and I’m not talking about the tag tournament. The show is a hodgepodge of half-baked ideas and, like any collision, the result is a mess.

My Random Notes

Apologies for the blurry quality of the poster above. It’s practically the best version I can find right now. Cut a queen some slack in the midst of pandemic, eh? 

A few production notes: 1.) Why is the WCW logo on the entrance way always crooked? 2.) I love the blue and yellow ring apron, but the red and yellow ropes are a weird fit. 3.) We’re treated throughout the broadcast with Starrcade Stats, a cheeseball yet time-period appropriate concept giving us trading card details on each of the night’s competitors. For example, the Z-Man does a missile dropkick “if possible.”

Spot of the night goes to Col. DeKlerk who damns it all and hits one of most ill-conceived front flips of all time, which causes Rick Steiner to visibly corpse on camera.

Laugh at Team Russia all you want, but they absolutely would be at a singlet party in Provincetown during Bear Week if it were 2020.

I’m pretty supportive of having filler matches on pay-per-views, but what the hell was even the point of that Skyscrapers squash? Did they forget to book it on WCW Saturday Night and need to make up the minutes?

We get our first taste of the highly acclaimed commentary duo of JR/Paul Heyman. It’s a slightly awkward first outing. Heyman isn’t really the Heyman we’d come to know yet so he sometimes comes off as a second-rate Bobby Heenan. He tries making a joke that the Midnight Express broke up due to Yoko Ono, which is every bit as painful as it sounds.

You mean to tell me the best Canadian wrestlers they could find were Troy Montour and Danny Johnson, whom I’m not even sure are actual wrestlers?

This should go without saying, but the Fabulous Freebirds and their fetishization of the Confederate flag is, um, a huge amount of yikes in a 2020 context. I don’t know a whole lot about about the point of them having Little Richard Marley as their sidekick, but I don’t think I want to know.

As with the dawn of any new decade, the ‘80s were still alive in 1990 and you need to look no further than the Dynasty extras they put on this show as the flag-bearers, with hair almost as tall as those big ass stars on the entrance way.

This, amazingly, marks the first time I’ve seen Rey Misterio Sr. (or Rey Misteric, as he’s referred to in the Starrcade graphics). I’ve honestly never even Googled his name to see what he looks like. It does seem like his nephew has a much better handle on the high-flying maneuvers. He inexplicably launches himself over the top rope after his Round 1 match is over. I’m sure it made Col. DeKlerk proud.

[mrcoltkaneko]

the debts of the gods are yours to keep (RoD)

a/n: I’m... really fucking proud of this one. I started this as a wild inspiration behind Colt’s backstory, writing at full-speed, and then got *major* writer’s block. I left the doc hanging on my desktop for a while, and I don’t know. I got major inspiration today and finished it. Fair warning, it’s not written in Choices-style, and reads more like snapshots throughout his life but I hope I did my best bb justice. Maybe I’ll write some actual romance, but for now, character study is where I live. CC is always welcome, and I hope you enjoy :)

pairings: Colt-centric, but some light Colt x MC + Logan x MC with Colt/Mona and Colt/Kaneko interactions

summary: Colt can’t tell when he stopped caring about his father. (Somewhere, deep in his heart, he knows that’s not true.)

rating: ehhhhh PG-13 for swearing but honest to god I had a sailor’s mouth when I was like 10 so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

length: 4612 words

The summer before his seventeenth birthday, Colt found his first love.

A 1989 Yamaha FZR-1000 – one of the first four-stroke sportbikes. He’d bartered for it at the local motor shop, offering $2000 and to fix up cars for an entire summer.

“You got your motorcycle license?”

“No.”

The old man narrowed his eyes. “You’ve ever been on one of these before?”

“Once.”

He harrumphed. “No deal.”

“You’re serious?”

“You seriously looking to get arrested, kid?”

“You can’t get arrested unless you get caught, Dale.”  

For a second, the old man looked as if he was going to explode of anger. Then, he began to guffaw, the corners of his eyes crinkling like shiny little candy wrappers. “Fine. Entire summer. I expect you to be here, every day, you hear me? And I give you the bike after.”

“That wasn’t the deal –“

“That’s the deal I’m offering. Like I said, you can’t take this girl anywhere until you’re legal to drive it. Take it or leave it.”

Colt crossed his arms. “Fine.”

It wasn’t his ideal summer, but working at Dale’s shop beat working for his own father. He’d put on rock music from the 70’s and whistle along. He had regular customers coming in, charmed by his good nature and fair prices. Instead of throwing Colt onto his ass whenever he did something wrong, he’d patiently take the tool from his hand, lie back on the creeper, and would show him how to do it properly. It’d been a nice few weeks, one without trouble or disappointment or boredom.

“Where were you today?” It was the first thing his father said to him when Colt got back to the auto shop. He was sitting in the back room, eating a cup of yogurt. “I thought you were going to work for me over the summer.”

Colt opened up the fridge and pushed the milk aside. He snorted. “And do what – draw up price estimates for people and do paperwork? No thanks.”

“Colt, you made a promise, and I intend that you keep it –“

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember making that promise. Sounds like you and mom decided what would be best for me. As always.” He reached for the back and pulled out a Coke.

“And your driving lessons?”

He took a sip of his drink. “I passed.”

“You took the test already?” Colt tried to figure out if his father sounded upset. He decided that he didn’t.

“Yeah. Guess those driving lessons you gave me really paid off, huh?” Every year, since he turned fourteen, his father had promised him to take him out driving. He’d taken him out twice. Somewhere along those years, Colt decided that he didn’t care much about driving anymore. His father didn’t let him touch the cars, anyways, so what was the use?

“And I told you, I’m busy with the business here and –“

“Business? Yeah, keep on acting like I don’t know what’s going on here. You think I don’t know that you jack cars and sell them off to rich fucks with money to spare? You honestly think that you could keep this from me forever? You think you can just fix this by spending the bare minimum of time with me? Well you know what I say to that? Fuck. You.”

A tense pause blanketed the room. His father’s face darkened.

“Get out.”

It was strange, hearing those words coming from his father. His face was red and enraged, and Colt turned around to leave. “Yeah, I was about to leave anyways. Don’t bother calling mom to tell her what happened.” The door to the office slammed. He spun around on his heels, ready to stomp out, but someone was standing in the doorway.  

“Well, he-llo, Mr. PMS.” Mona stood by, leaning against the doorframe. He’d met her once or twice. She’d appeared one day in the shop, a couple summers ago, her face haunted with something wicked. It was the first time he saw her. And it was the last time he saw that expression on her face again.  

“Fuck off, Mona.” He pushed past her.

“God, I’m joking. Ass.”

“Yeah, well for it to be a joke, it had to be funny.”

“Seriously, kid? Where the hell is your sense of humor?” Mona rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’m done for the day. I’ll grab a couple beers and we’ll drink in the courtyard. Tell me about all your hormonal, teenage problems you’re dealing with.” She walked alongside him, grinning.

The “courtyard” was a makeshift junkyard for the auto shop. Whatever grass left planted was yellowed and rough from the sun beating down on the space. A decrepit chain-link fence encircled the area, rusted from years of weather.

“Christ, I don’t think I could ever get used to the summers here.” Mona fanned herself, taking a swig of her Budweiser.

Colt shrugged, sipping at his own drink. “Where are you from?”

“The Bronx. New Yohh-wk,” she said, exaggerating an accent. “Left when I was a little bit older than you are now. What are you, like fifteen?”

He sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. “Almost seventeen.”

“So around the same then. Been here ever since.” She finished her can and tossed it into a pile of junk.

“Why do you work for him?”

Mona paused. “What do you mean why?”

“I mean, what do you see in him? He’s a goddamn asshole.”

“That’s not how things work around here, kiddo.”

“You mean in the crime world.”

Mona chuckled. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

“So tell me how it works then. Because every time I walk into this goddamn shop my dad’s on my ass about something different. I know all of you think I’ve got it easy being the boss’s son and all, but he’s never treated me more than just some punk kid ready to get in the way.”

She stared at him, taking a long sip from her can. “Heard you bought a bike from Dale.”

“Yeah. And?”

“What, the old geezer strike you a deal or something?”

“Two-thousand.” Colt paused, gauging Mona’s reaction. “And I’m working at his shop for the summer.”

“Where’s the bike?”

“He says I’ve got to work it off first. What does this have to with anything?”

“Same thing.” She downed her beer and threw the can across the way again. “You’ve gotta pay before you get your bike. Except in my case, your father here gave me my gift first.”

“What was it?”

Mona paused, and looked over at him. He thought he saw that expression again, flitting across her eyes. “My freedom.”

Before Colt could answer, Toby swung open the back door, covered head to toe in car grease.

“Hey! No fair! You guys are drinking without me?” He grabbed a beer from the 24-pack and cracked it open. Mona snatched it from him.

“Yeah, well maybe you should have thought about how fair it was to drink all of my Red Bulls right before my job last week.”

“What? I didn’t know they were yours!” “What’s going on out here?” Ximena called, sticking her head out the door.

“Nothing, aside from the fact that Toby thinks he can just constantly take shit from me –“

“I paid you back!”

“Yeah, if you count adding dumb mods to my car repaying me. “

“It’s a cooler! Now you don’t have to store your Red Bulls in the communal fridge!”

In the midst of the commotion, Colt slipped out. The bus ride home was packed, the idle chatter of different languages humming underneath his thoughts. He watched the auto shop fade away into the distance, like a balloon, floating high into the sky.

****

He doesn’t understand her. Or him, for that matter. They walked around the sideshow, looking at each other with googly eyes and at him with daggers, like he’d done something to ruin their lives.

As if. He’d met them like, what, an hour ago? And soon after that, Dale had gently told him that the smirking kid in the t-shirt was his replacement. Logan, no last name. He snorted at that.

“Him? He couldn’t outdrive the girl he’s pulling around.”

Dale shook his head. “Everyone’s saying he’s the new hotshot driver that Kaneko’s been training. Came around a year ago, I s’pose. Don’t know anything else ‘bout him. Anyways, how’s school on the East Coast?”

Before Colt could answer, shouts filled the air. He rode his way around the crowd, finding the center of the commotion. Salazar. The man towered over Logan, an assured smirk plastered onto his face. Logan’s girl stood by, equal parts indignant and terrified at the events unfolding in front of her.

“Seems your boyfriend’s looking to add insult to injury.”

The girl whipped her head around scowling at his comment. “Whoever you are, this is none of your business.” She turned back around, watching as Logan popped the hood off of the…

Aylesbury. How many times had he seen his father drive off in that car, the deep green hunk of metal rumbling down the street? And how many times had his father slapped his hand away for even touching the side mirror?

And here the boy was, keys dangling from his back pocket as he fiddled around with the engine. He wasn’t going to. He couldn’t – not if Colt could help it.

“That car… he’s wagering it on the race?”

“I think it’s totally crazy… but yeah.”

“Then it just became my business.” He could feel the girl’s eyes on his back as he negotiated his way into the race. His heart pounded. Heat radiated from the inside of his helmet. There was no turning back now. This was his race to win.

****

“You could have gotten killed.”

Colt scoffed and slumped into the plastic seat by the office door, taking in his surroundings. His father paced the space behind his desk. Papers were strewn everywhere – on the ground, on the desk, and tacked up on the walls. By the furthest corner was a small pile of trash, mostly filled by yogurt cups and takeout containers, overfilling the wastepaper basket.

“Looks like you’re doing real well here.” His father glared at him. Colt groaned. “Ohhh, I see. We’re going to pretend to care for each other now. Well, guess what? In all my generosity, I won your fucking car back for you. Not him.”

“You’re careless. You don’t think. And you expect me to thank you?”

“No. I expect that we’re even now.”

His father stopped pacing. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand! You’ve shut me out of this life – your life – for so long. And then you bring in some pretty boy to do your bidding, praise him for almost wrecking your car –“

“Listen here, boy, do not pretend to understand my relationship with them.” He pointed out the door, lowering his voice an octave. “I’ve told you time and time again that you’re not going to get involved with this crew.”

“Why not? You scared, Pop? Terrified that your own son will take the throne?”

“No. Because you’re weak.”

The words cut, like crawling naked on fine shards of glass. But he balled his hands into fists and bit his lip. “You need me. I’m staying. Whether you like it or not.”

After a long pause, his father finally answered. “Fine. But you’re working the desk. No questions.” And with that, he pushed open the door, ready to tell everyone the news.

Colt un-balled his fists. There, on his palm, were eight little crescent indents filled with blood.

****

“Where is he?”

The voice called out, above him somewhere, the words hanging in between the clinks of metal and occasional drilling. It half scared him, having gotten used to the loud humming of the shop. The noise was calming; almost white noise, with no expectation of conversation or small talk. It was why he hated the front desk. The crackheads, reeking of old sweat and smoke, trying to barter their way out of paying for the work on their jalopies. The lost LA moms, waiting for their SUVs, their sparkly designer sunglasses parked on top of their heads. Every few seconds, they’d touch them, as if he was going to snatch them and run.

Colt slid out from under the car. “What?” He snapped.

She looked mildly surprised to see him. “Oh. I thought you were only supposed to work the desk.”

“Toby left for some sideshow in Arcadia. Are we done here?”

“Logan. Do you know where he is?”

Colt snorted. “No.” He slid back to the undercarriage, hoping she’d take the hint.

Instead, she crouched down. “Come on, I know you’re here all day, you probably saw him leave.”

He slid out and threw his gloves onto the ground. He walked into the back room. She followed, right on his heels. “If you’re half as smart as I think you are, you should probably stay away from him.”

“I – What did he even do to you?” She crossed her arms, her expression darkening. “Or me, for that matter?”

“It only takes an idiot to see that you don’t fit in here.”

“Oh, so, what, this is middle school now? You’ve got a clique, and I’m not allowed because I’m not cool enough?” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know me!” Her eyes were fiery now, defiant. It gave him a jump in his stomach. His fingers tingled.

“I might not know you, but I know your type.”

“Try me.”

“Let me guess, 4.0 GPA, Daddy’s Princess, and broke curfew once because you stayed late at the library? You’re the teacher’s pet, so everyone pretty much hates you, and let’s see – a virgin?”

He could see her steaming at the last comment, and he laughed. “Did I really get all of that right?” He shook his head. “I’m good, but I’m never that good.”

“You’re a coward.”

“What?”

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her eyes were all fire, the flames licking up whatever oxygen was left in the room. “You’re a coward. You think you’ll never measure up to anyone; not Logan, not your dad, not a single person out there. So you stopped trying a long time ago because you think that disappointing anyone, especially yourself, is worse than the chance at succeeding – and guess what? You’re right. You’ll never succeed. Because as soon as you get that slightest taste at victory, you get an ego, you think you’re invincible – and you’ll fall, right back down with all of us that work the daily grind.”

She was close now, her eyes barely an inch away from his nose. This is the part where you kiss her, his mind shouted, but he silenced the thought as soon as it blared out. A ridiculous suggestion, Colt thought, pampered by stupid movies and TV shows. He opened his mouth, ready to retort, but someone called out her name.

“Logan!” Her voice rose an octave, peppered with excitement.

Colt shoved his hands into his pockets as she floated away from him. He pretended to avert his eyes from them, sneaking glances at them from his periphery.

There was something wrong with this picture. He was going to find out what.

****

Who knew she was so dangerous? Even more dangerous than his own father. After all, they only targeted the wealthy, fingers well-oiled and fat off their own gluttony. Her father? As much as the cop thought he was keeping the streets clean, he picked up good, honest people in some dire times as much as he did the trigger-happy gunslingers, the greedy dope sellers. He’d seen the stories in the papers. Colt knew some of them, the ones that were swept away behind bars. Always labeled with their race, their age, their poison of choice. Black, 28, robbery. White, 35, aggravated assault.

In the back of his mind, Colt wondered when he’d see his father in those listings. His habits and idiosyncrasies erased, his identity reduced to the corporeal.

She doesn’t know what a deadly game this is. For him, for his father, for Mona, for Toby, for Ximena. For Logan. For her. His father’s voice boomed in his head. The cops don’t owe you. You owe the cops.

****

“I know how you feel.”

“Huh?”

“My mom was sick.”

“It’s different.”

“It’s not different. We’d had a fight the night before, about something stupid, like cleaning up my stuff or not finishing my homework or something. I stormed out the morning after without saying goodbye. And… and – she collapsed while at was school. And when I found out, I thought it was my fault that she was there, that I somehow willed her to get sick. So every night, I’d pray to something out there, a God, or maybe a star, that if she lived, I’d promise to be the best daughter ever.”

“And here you are.”  

“She died a month later.”

“And the promise wasn’t kept.”

“My point is, it’s not too late for you. He’s in there. He cares about you.”

She reached out her hand. Colt gently took it. Her palms were soft, her knuckles smooth.

If the cop’s daughter was the end of him, so be it.

****

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Mona groaned.

She sounded more annoyed than worried, which relieved Colt. If he could show her how airtight the plan was, she’d agree.

“Not a big deal for me,” Salazar grunted.

“Your ex-wife’s kid doesn’t count.” Mona rolled her eyes and Salazar deflated, grumpy that she’d revealed his secret. “Why are we listening to him, anyways?” She leaned on the desk, towering over Kaneko, as if she could pull the answer from the man’s mouth herself.

“I’m not a kid anymore – “

“We’re talking about kidnapping. A fucking member of The Brotherhood.”

“About 3800 pounds lighter than stealing a car.”

She gave Colt a dirty look. “This isn’t the time for one of your wisecracks. Boss, you do realize that this is a dumb plan, right? We kidnap the guy, hold him for ransom, and then what? Have the fucking Brotherhood come after our necks with chainsaws?”

“Yeah, what’s in it for me, huh? Sounds like this is a whole lotta trouble for a couple thousand bucks.”

Everyone began to argue, but Kaneko held up a hand, shutting the three up. He cleared his throat. “Have you ever heard the story of The Hare and The Lion?”

Colt furrowed his brow. Mona rolled her eyes. “It’s official, the old man’s lost it.” “So I take it you haven’t.”

Salazar slammed his hand on the desk. “You better be going somewhere with this.” Kaneko gave him an imperceptible nod, barely flinching at the noise.

“Once upon a time, a lion ruled the jungle. The lion was very cruel, and every day, he demanded that an animal from the jungle be delivered to him, so he could devour it.

“One day, the hare was picked for the lion’s daily meal. Of course, the poor hare didn’t want to be eaten at all. So the hare, full of wit, presented himself to the lion and told the beast that on the way, he’d met another lion that claimed to be the King of the Jungle.

“The lion, very angry that another animal dare take his title from him, asked the hare where this other lion was. The hare led him to a well, claiming the lion was down there waiting for him.

“The lion looked down and roared, intending to scare the other animal into subservience. But of course, the lion was not very smart and mistook his reflection as another lion calling back at him. Furious with this imposter, he jumped into the well to attack the lion, and he drowned. And the hare ran off to tell the other animals of the jungle, free at last.”

Kaneko knitted his fingers together and placed them on the desk. “Well? What do you think?”

Mona glared. “I think if you’re not going to tell me what this goddamn nonsense means, I’m out.” Salazar nodded, in rare agreement with the other.

“What I’m saying is that we pretend to scratch their backs.” Colt pulled up the picture of the contact. “We tell them that there’s another enemy, a traitor in their ranks. We kidnap him, and offer him up to the fuckers.”

Mona widened her eyes, and smirked. “We give them their own fake lion.”

“They’ll be so wrapped up in dealing with him that they won’t see us coming. We’ll get them out of our way, for good. We’ll be arranging the pick-up…” He pulled up the picture of the stadium on his phone and showed it to Mona and Salazar. “…Here. The shithead’s a huge fan of the Badgers. It’s why we need you, Sal.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Colt caught a glimpse of his father smile. The first, he thought, in seven years.  

“And what about the others? Toby, Ximena, the girl… Logan?” Colt knew why she asked. After all, he’d been in on it up until this point. Up until he got tangled in her lips and her hair and that sunshine smile and… Colt swallowed. He shook the thought of her from his mind.

A slow pause filled the air. Finally, Kaneko answered. “He won’t understand. He’s weak with love. He won’t risk putting her in danger.”

No, he wouldn’t.

****

Pop… please… you can’t leave me.

Go, Colt. Go, and don’t look back.

**** He’d been on the cusp of twelve years – almost twelve revolutions around the sun, as his father liked to say. He’d grown a half-a-foot in the past summer, his legs long and spindly, like a baby doe. Sometimes he spent his time playing driveway basketball with the neighborhood kids – well, only if they’d let him. Most of the time, he sat on the curb, steaming as the kids called him “half-breed” and “slant-eyes” all while participating in a game of keep-away, six little demons against himself. So he’d sit on his front stoop and adjust the laces on his Air Force 1’s, trying to make room for his ever-growing feet. Occasionally he’d walk to the mini-mart and pilfer candy from the aisles. Last time though, the shop owner caught him pocketing a peppermint, and threatened to call his parents. Colt didn’t care. His parents never listened to him much these days. His mother would cry while his father would drive off, almost always with a knapsack and silent ruffle of Colt’s head. Moonlight would bounce off the shining silver rims of the car and Colt would watch until it was a tiny speck of green, floating on the edge of the horizon, the cries of the engine lasting far longer than his young eyes could see.

But his father always came back. Always.

Sometimes with a gift – a shiny new Hot Wheels that mirrored his father’s latest ride and half-wilted supermarket flowers for his mother. A sorry gift from a sorry man, Colt thought now, but at the time, it was the most romantic gesture he’d ever seen. The carnations would sit in a plastic thermos filled to the brim with lukewarm water, and he’d count the days down. By the time all the petals gathered around the makeshift vase, there would be another incident.

It’d been a good streak this time around. No incidents. The petals on the last bunch of flowers had long been swept up, leaving the shriveled stems in the vase like long, fragile pieces of straw. Colt hoped this time it’d be different, with his birthday in a week, and the arid LA heat withering to make room for cooler breezes. He imagined he’d ask for new shoes. He’d blow out number candles from a chocolate cake.

And different was what he’d got. Three days before his twelfth birthday, Colt jolted awake from the familiar sound of the engine. The sky was dark gray, hinting at the sun’s imminent arrival. He’s leaving, Colt thought. Without saying goodbye. Pulling the covers off his bed, he tiptoed down the stairs and burst through the door.  

“Hey!” His shout barely rose over the engine’s hum. “Wait!”

His father peered over from the driver’s seat window. He sighed and turned off the engine. “Colt, you should be asleep.”

“I want to go with you,” Colt replied breathlessly. “Please.”

Colt looked for a hint of give in his father’s face. There wasn’t any. His face remained stoic, like always. “All right. Hop on up.”

Colt stepped into the car, the fuzzy car mat tickling the soles of his feet. His father turned the keys in the ignition and backed out of the driveway. Colt looked out his window, watching his little house until it turned into a speck of dust. He turned back around, looking over at his father.  

“Where are we going?”

There was a pause. “Where do you want to go?”

Colt thought for a second. “In-N-Out.” His father laughed.

Soon, Colt was dangling his legs off the cliff, chowing down on a Double-Double Cheeseburger and dipping his French fries into a strawberry shake. He looked down as he ate, watching the waves slurp up the side of the precipice. Further into the horizon, the water rocked, reflecting rivulets of the orange sky in between the blue. There they sat, completely silent. He remembered the times when his father would push him off the cliff, rambling about courage and honor and bravery in the face of danger. And he’d fall, fall, fall, his father’s words lost in between the roaring folds of water.

“Colt.”

“MMmreah?” He mumbled, mouth full of burger.

“When – when I was your age, my father didn’t give me a choice.” His voice cracked, and his usually serious tone was tinged with a hint of sadness.

Colt furrowed his eyebrows. He’d never heard his father stutter, and it made him nervous. “Whaddya mean, Pop?”

“He told me that in this country, we would never be seen as equals. So we had to take the power for ourselves. That to make a name for yourself, you had to yell it louder than anyone else.”

Colt thought of the kids down the block, who called him names and didn’t let him play basketball.

“Your grandfather was a great man. I strive to be as fearless as he was. But I’ve done some things in my life that I’m ashamed of.”

All he could think of was the kid’s face, bloodied and bruised. He’d called him a “dirty half-breed bastard”. Colt had pummeled the kid’s pudgy face, fat from a steady diet of Twinkies and Butterfingers he’d seen him munching. He could recall how soft his face was against his own knuckles. He remembered how he didn’t feel any pain, not for a while, not until two hands wrestled him off of the boy. He’d ran back to his stoop and cried, his right knuckles stained blood-red.

“You’ll be better off this way. I’m a better man than your grandfather was, and I know you’ll be a better one than me.”

The brightening sky cast a golden halo on his father’s face, and the water sparkled with the brilliance of a thousand diamonds.

“Someday, you will thank me.”  

His father rose and walked back to the car, and beckoned for Colt to get up. Grabbing the bag of food, he followed, and his father accelerated away from the cliff. Colt gazed at the fiery ocean, the distant sounds of the Pacific lulling him back to sleep.

****

[pynkhues]

In light of this new episode, what has the vette come to symbolize?

Oh man, anon, I could talk about that corvette all day.

I kind of touched on it in this post, but I’m finding itreally, really interesting how they’re paralleling Dean and Rio at the moment,and not just in terms of Beth. While this series is very, very much aboutwomen, the ways society and culture disempowers and disenfranchises them andthe ways they overcome that, there’s also always been a really interestingthroughline about male ego that the writers are doubling down on this season. Andinterestingly it’s a pretty major part of allthe male characters in the show!

Putting aside Dean and Rio for a minute, a lot of season onewas about what men do when they feel like women bruise their egos. Boomer’s themost obvious example of course – he was that perfect storm of deep insecurity,entitlement and delusions of grandeur. As an antagonist, he worked really wellbecause he was almost this living embodiment of toxic masculinity – not onlywas he a literal rapist, he was conniving, manipulative, deceptive and outrightcruel, in no small part because hefelt like Annie belittled him and wouldn’t sleep with him. Greg’s ego wasbruised by Annie too but in a really different way – namely by not trusting himto make decisions for Sadie, and it was notably when she realised he’d beenright aka that his ego was rebuilt, that he decided he wanted to leave Nancy forher.

Stan’s a little different. I think a big part of hischaracter is actually about how he’s consistently been able to put aside his ego to do what needs to bedone. He obviously hated working as a mall cop (think of him telling Ruby thatthe kids called him ‘Paul Blart’), but he knew they needed to do what they hadto for their daughter. He also didn’t tell Ruby about the police academy untilhe got in – again, something that ties back to ego. Still, I think the factthat he’s the only truly good man on this show is really related to hiswillingness to put his ego aside.

I mean, hell, even Baby Tyler let Annie go because shestoked his ego for the police and lauded him a hero!

Dean is in his own category altogether. Obviously this is aguy who’s like, 110% ego – he constantly thinkshe can handle everything and get himself out of dire straits despite allevidence to the contrary. I think he’s viewed Beth almost entirely as a trophywife for the past twenty years – she’s beautiful, and she’s for show, but shealso keeps his house and has given him four children. She’s a key part of theimage he wants to present to the world as a successful person, but she clearlystopped stoking his ego by no longer sleeping with him, or even saying that sheloved him (as seen in 1.01), and when she did that, he found someone else whowould aka Amber.

To me, Dean reeks of a guy who went straight from a doting, accommodatingstay-at-home mother to Beth, meaning he has a lot of arrested development – he hasn’t matured since highschool,because he hasn’t had to. He’s constantly been looked after and indulged by thewomen in his life, who have placed him at the centre of their worlds, and thatcan build a pretty outsized sense of self. I think the multiple references to Fast and Furious are really indicativeof that too – it’s very much sold as a franchisefor teenage boys, not men, and the fact that he obviously gets off on it enoughto make it the passwords for their accounts is embarrassing to say the least.

And interestingly this season, he ties Rio to that franchisewhen Beth steals the Tesla (it’s clearly how Dean relates to the world, haha). Thatyellow corvette could be straight out of one of those movies, and I think hebought it as a response to Beth’s growing relationship with Rio. I think thatbuying (to quote Rio lol) “that cheesy ass” car, and refusing to let it berepossessed like literally every other car on the lot, is all about Deanposturing and his ego. With a car like that, he’s Paul Walker or Vin Diesel.Rio’s whatever villain is in whichever instalment Dean wants to pretend he’s inthat week.

Selling that car and using that money to save Boland Motorsis his idea of winning the street race, and you know whoever wins the streetrace gets the girl.

Everything about Rio’s actions in the second half of 2.04 completelyundermined Dean’s ego. From fucking his wife (which obviously wasn’t about Deanfor Rio at all, but still), to very almost tellinghim he fucked his wife, to telling him he was now partners with his wife and revelling in Dean’s ignorance generally.And smashing that corvette? It was about completely dismantling all of Dean’sposturing. Rio says he knows Beth? He’s known Dean from the moment he saw thepicture of him on Beth’s dresser and identified that he looked untrustworthy, andhe obviously thinks he’s a joke. Rio smashing that corvette was letting Deanknow that he’d won, in more ways than one.

And look, Rio’s ego feels like a whole other post, lol.

[ravenvsfox]

Hi I love your band au fic! I was wondering if or when you were gonna write the next chapter :3

(thank you so much honey, here’s chapter four!!)

Their first show goes badly. 

They don’t practice for long enough, just two weeks of lyric reworking and transposition, Neil trying to bring his technique back from the dead, Kevin spitting and tearing his hair out.

They find themselves onstage like a machine with five separate motors and all the bolts loose. Andrew watches the way Neil’s shoulders turn into water when the stage lights hit him, the seam of dark hair that splits his scalp becoming a winding red river. 

It's the stupidest thing, how he looks copy and pasted out of history, a magazine rocker back from when that meant something dangerous.

Kevin plays over top of Neil’s vocals. Bouncy bass lines that spit like oil in a pan, so out of place that Aaron stops playing, confused. Neil sings louder and his voice strains and pulls apart so you can see the tendons in it.

The audience screams and whispers, they're not sure if Neil is here to stay, they don't know what it would mean if he did. Do I stop buying their albums? They murmur. Is this them selling out? Mainstream, pretty vocalist on top of their band like a wedding cake topper?

And then closer to the stage, tuned in, pupils swollen, Neil’s voice speaks to some of them like an open fire, turns their faces red, opens them up.

Andrew watches them with a kind of gratification, though he's not sure if he’s thinking of the band’s success or the way he feels the same draw as them, warming his hands on something as nuclear as Neil.

They slice the end off of their set. They can’t get their sound all the way together, even when the 50 fans they'd really reached shout for an encore. The rest of the venue leaves in ecstasies of conversation: who is he? Who is he? Who is he?

Or maybe that's the sound of Andrew’s furious thoughts, drowning it all out.

Or maybe it’s the mushrooms he took before the show. It’s the kind of high that pries everything apart and make him feel like he wouldn’t be able to hide even if all the lights were off, even if he had a hand clapped over his mouth.

Neil spins and starts to gather his microphone cord, preoccupied. Kevin puts his bass down carefully in its stand and shoots whiskey out of the bottle. He always makes the same face after, like it only hurts narrowly less than it helps.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks.

“Yeah, what was it?” Neil returns, like he was waiting for it. The house lights are on now, and all the sweat that made him look waxy and feverish as if by candlelight is now dark on his t-shirt and slick as grease in his hair. “You forget what dynamics are supposed to sound like?”

“I was trying to compensate for your horrifying lack of skill and professionalism,” Kevin says.

“Oh yeah? So you thought you’d play badly enough to drown me out? Interesting tactic.”

Kevin steps closer and Nicky stands in between them, guitar jutting out like a gate. “Kev,” he says lowly. “We're still getting it together. No one thought our first show was going to be groundbreaking.”

“Then why did we bother having it?” he snaps.

“Practice,” Andrew says. “Like everything else.”

“Yeah, hey, I’ve heard it makes perfect,” Nicky jokes nervously.

“That’s not fair to the audience,” Kevin says. “We can’t be figuring our shit out on the stage they paid money to—“

“Oh, but it was your fault, wasn't it Kevin. Let's be honest,” Andrew says. “You decided Neil was going to fail before we stepped foot on stage, and then you made sure of it.”

Kevin looks gobsmacked, and Andrew hears Aaron muffle a laugh. Neil looks back and forth between them, strung between surprise and suspicion.

“I didn’t—“ Kevin stops, puts a steadying hand on his stool. “I wouldn’t sabotage our set to—what—prove a point?”

“Because you’re above that kind of thing,” Neil says sarcastically. “Except that your playing is always going to come before other people though, right?” He seems to realize halfway through speaking that he respects this quality in Kevin, and his voice softens.

Kevin doesn’t answer, but his eyes are needly. “So you’ve all decided to pin this on me?” He’s looking at Andrew.

“Sure have,” he replies cheerily. “Don’t do it again, hm?”

Kevin swallows and thumbs the tuning pegs on his bass, upset. “I fucking hate you when you’re high.”

“Are we supposed to believe he's the love of your life when he’s sober?” Aaron asks flatly. Kevin’s opens his mouth, teeth bared like he’s going to reply, but instead he shoves a sheaf of notes and music off of his stand and storms offstage. Andrew watches the paper flutter to the floor.

“I didn’t need your protection,” Neil says.

“So you keep saying,” Andrew says, and then he follows Kevin to the bar.

______

Neil comes up when you google him, now.

Wymack released a clipped statement on behalf of Palmetto that Neil is the fifth member of Ausreißer and that yes, they know it's unorthodox to change the line up halfway through a tour, but they’re excited to be working closely together on new music. He runs it by the band before turning it over to the press, and Neil frowns all the way through it.

They do a handful more shows on the east coast where Neil and Kevin don’t look at each other. The audience swells, curious or infatuated with the singer whose voice lays on top of the instrumentation like oil on water.

Neil has a wicked panic attack in the motel bathroom when Nicky shows him his wikipedia page, no picture or credits, just a line of text that links him undeniably to the rest of the monsters. He starts wheezing, then falling, and Andrew squeezes the back of his neck and tells him over and over again to come back to himself and cut it out. 

Nicky stands with his hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes until Neil gasps and breathes deeply.

At a show in New York, Neil starts experimenting, playing with the audience, his presence taking up so much of the stage that the air starts to feel thin and hard to come by. He’s still a little high from the afternoon edibles they took, and his voice is throaty and loose. 

He makes a bad joke about Kevin's tattoo, something about his solos being like labyrinths, and Kevin grins, does an open slide down the fretboard that might as well be a thank you. When music is their primary language, they never fight.

Neil’s all over the stage, twitching with music, eyes closed. Nicky takes his hands off his guitar to spin Neil into his body and then out again, and the momentum sends him over to the drum kit.

He sings into Andrew's microphone, silver tongue, yellow hair long enough to stick to his cheekbones. For a moment, he wants him so completely that it makes his drumsticks tangle, a few beats bunching together like a clot in the rhythm. Neil’s eyes open, right next to him, car crash blue.

Andrew doesn’t look away, and in his head, pieces of lyrics start to hatch, bloody. Inspiration never used to come as easily or painfully as this, like Neil took a screwdriver directly to his brain and pried the words out.

Neil drifts away again, singing about not wanting to be seen, singing about the way staying alive is different from being alive. He always speaks Andrew’s lyrics like they’re just now occurring to him, and it makes him almost jealous.

He spends more time on stage than off. His talent loosens and rolls out like well-worked dough, voice going so relaxed and syrupy that it seems almost involuntary.

Halfway through one of their sets he sits in the middle of the stage, in a snake pit of wires, and sings clunky hard rock like a ballad. The rest of the band and the audience all crane towards him, listening for him like a pulse.

In private, they eat burger king in the van, Aaron dips fries in the zesty sauce that's meant for onion rings, Kevin plucks at a guitar to hone his skill on a broader fretboard, and Nicky squats outside the open driver's side door and tries to beckon a street cat into his lap.

Andrew lights a cigarette and wonders if Neil is aware of how he arches into the smoke like it’s fresh air.

"What are you doing?” Neil asks, leaning over the seat between them to look at Andrew’s open notebook, the cigarette between his fingers instead of a pen.

“Writing.”

Neil looks sceptical. “Lyrics?”

“The great American novel,” Andrew says sarcastically.

“Read it to me,” Neil challenges.

“You are bored,” he says. A side effect of his increasing comfort on stage is a dullness everywhere else.

“I’m trapped constantly in a van with shitty company.”

“Great, this can be your stop, then," Aaron says, waving a fry in Neil’s direction. There's almost no heat though. They all know that it’s too late to cut Neil out without surgical intervention.

“I’m great company,” Nicky says in-between kissy noises. The cat has wandered almost close enough to touch. “And I’m squandered on you.”

“When we get back to Columbia, I’m getting a hotel room,” Neil says.

“With what money?” Aaron mutters under his breath.

“The secret rolls of cash in his socks, probably,” Andrew says. Neil glares.

“Well anyway, you can’t,” Nicky says. “We’re supposed to play nice with the illustrious Foxes while we’re home, and we need to keep tabs on you.”

Neil looks surprised for a fraction of a second, but his expression settles quickly back into annoyance. “Hotels have phones.”

“The house is close to the studio,” Kevin points out. “I don’t give a fuck about what you do with your spare time, but we still have work to do.”

“And dinner. At Abby’s. The whole Palmetto family,” Nicky interjects.

“Is that—“ Neil wrestles with words for a second, coming up with dirty hands and not much else. “Normal?”

“Not really,” Nicky shrugs. “But this isn’t an average label. Wymack basically hand picked all of us. We’re kind of—“

“Don’t say misfits,” Aaron interrupts.

“Misfits,” Nicky finishes, with relish. “But he had the good sense to separate the pop from the rock and roll. We don’t exactly lead compatible lifestyles. I still think we should’ve gotten Renee, though.”

“We don't need two drummers,” Kevin says sourly.

“She plays violin too,” Andrew says. “We could have swapped out a guitar.”

“You’d sell out your own family?” Nicky says, faux hurt. Andrew gives him a blank look.

“We don’t have the right sound for violin,” Neil says. “We’d eat her alive.”

Nicky’s gotten ahold of the cat now, a smudgy grey thing, and it’s grappling up his shoulder with its claws. Andrew watches the way Nicky lets it slice him to pieces just for the feeling of something in his arms. “Yeah right,” he says. “You haven't met her.”

______

He meets her—and everyone else—a week later. Andrew starts drinking at noon just to prepare himself for the spectacle of it, the way Abby’s house will inevitably suck Neil in just like the stage did.

They’re all dishevelled when they stagger up the path to her front door, and the blinds are pulled but Andrew can see the yellow living room light and hear the roll of laughter from inside. His stomach sinks.

Neil picks his way across the grass behind him, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shoulders are up by his ears and his feet drag. Nicky passes a flask down the line and they each take a generous swig. Kevin raps at the door, and it swings inward almost immediately.

It’s Wymack, an over-full tumbler in his hand and sweat peppering his hairline. Andrew’s willing to bet that he was watching for them, on the outskirts of socializing, trying to keep an equilibrium between his Foxes and his Monsters.

“About time,” Wymack says. His gaze finds the flask that ended up with Neil at the back of the line. He rolls his eyes. “You all planning on being civil tonight?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Andrew asks, pushing past both Wymack and Kevin to get to the warmth of the foyer.

“Shoes off,” Abby calls from somewhere in the bustle spilling out of the kitchen.

“The liquor cabinet’s locked,” Wymack leans over to tell him surreptitiously.

“Like that’s ever stopped him,” Aaron scoffs.

“It better,” he warns. He looks at Neil again. “How you doin’, kid?” Neil nods noncommittally. “They pushing you around?”

“Trying,” Nicky says, smiling. “He won’t budge.”

“Good.” He reaches out as if to cuff his shoulder but Neil flinches away.

Andrew feels something in his chest, a sliver of rib or a ventricle wriggle away and dissolve. He pulls Neil away without thinking, just a brisk tug and a release. Wymack’s already looking away, but Nicky’s watching Andrew, mouth quirked.

“Hey,” someone calls. Matt, it turns out, tall and irritatingly affable as always, hair slicked almost vertical. He nods at the group, but beams and holds his hand out to Neil, who separates from Andrew to shake it. “Matt Boyd, guitarist for Foxes. You’re Neil, right?”

“Yeah,” Neil says. “Vocalist.”

“Man, finally,” Matt says. “I really thought they’d never find a guy. But anyone who’s survived the monsters this long has already impressed me.”

Neil shrugs keeping his eyes carefully forward. “They’re interesting.”

“Oof,” Matt says. “That’s one way to put it. No offence Nicky.”

Nicky shrugs. “Nah, I know what we are.”

“You gotta meet the girls,” Matt says, guiding Neil towards the kitchen. “Dan keeps trying to mother you and she hasn’t even met you.”

Neil looks uncomfortable, glancing back towards the band, but they’re all scattering, preoccupied with food and dishes, or talking shop with a reluctant Wymack, in Kevin’s case. Andrew moves silently with Neil, fingers numb from the booze.

The kitchen is loud, buzzing with fluorescents and conversation. Dan’s sitting on the counter, and it’s almost funny, the way her mouth hitches wickedly when she spots Neil, then deflates when she sees Andrew. Matt slips an arm around her waist, and she seems to find an emotional middle ground.

“Neil Josten,” Dan greets. “We’ve been talking about you all month.”

“Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Your choice,” she says, grinning. “I didn’t tell you what we were saying.”

“Hello Neil. Hi Andrew,” Renee says sweetly, waving.

“Renee,” he says. It’s a relief to see her. Her face is even as snow.

“By the way, I’m Dan. Wilds. I dunno if you’ve heard our stuff? I never wanna assume.”

Neil nods. “A little. You’re the lead singer?”

“Also on keys, on a good day. This is Renee Walker—she fuckin’ ruins on drums. Allison Reynolds, our badass bassist. And you met our guitarist,” she says, leaning up to press her smile into Matt’s jaw.

“‘From the Top’ is a good track,” Neil compliments stiffly. Andrew can tell from his awkward, twisting hands that it’s the only title he remembers.

They all cluck and groan, and Renee laughs, “it’s always that song. Really not our best.”

“It blows,” Dan agrees. “They play it at last call when they want to clear the place out.”

“Oh, they’re self aware,” Andrew says, quietly enough that only Neil seems to hear. His mouth twists a little meanly.

“So you sing,” Allison interjects, stepping close enough to toy with Neil’s collar, but he seems unfazed.

“Apparently.”

“In the middle of all that noise?” she asks, looking meaningfully at Andrew.

“I manage,” Neil says wryly.

“She’s just used to being the most grating thing in a room,” Andrew drawls.

Allison looks at him sharply. “So are you sober or what, monster? We going to have to lock up the knives?”

“Only if you’re stupid enough to think that I’m not carrying any.”

“Not stupid,” Dan says tiredly, “hopeful.”

“Naive,” he corrects. He’s feeling a little separate from his body. If Neil weren’t so caught up in this orbit, he’s pretty sure he could rope him into hotboxing the bathroom.

“Seriously Neil, are you juggling all of this okay?” Matt says, forehead creased like some sort of caricature of concern. Andrew was right, of course. They’ve only just met Neil and already they’re preoccupied, worried, slicing off parts of their lives to offer him. “It’s a hell of a thing to jump into all at once.”

“I’m fine,” Neil says. “I’ve jumped into much worse.”

Matt scoffs. “I guess that’s fair enough. Let us know if you need a little stability, okay?”

“I can handle myself,” Neil says, eyes flinty, and Andrew almost believes him. He keeps insisting that he’s on top of things, even when that mask of his is oozing blood and history. “But to be perfectly clear, I wanted to be a part of Ausreißer the second I heard them play, and that hasn’t changed. At all.”

Andrew chews and swallows this. His heart lifts, involuntary, and he has to go through the whole production of catching and strangling it like a bird.

“He’s one of them,” Allison says dramatically. “It’s too late.”

Dan rolls her eyes, but smiles at Neil. “That’s great, Neil. They’re a hell of a band, I won’t fight you on that.”

“For real,” Matt agrees. “If Kevin wasn’t such a raging asshole I would pretty much pay to jam with him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Doubt he would hear me from inside his own ass,” Neil says.

Matt’s smile brightens. “Love that attitude. Can we borrow him?”

“Good luck keeping hold of him,” Nicky says from behind them. “He’s slippery. Right babe?” He squeezes Neil’s cheeks and gets his hand slapped away.

“But you like ‘em slippery, right Nick?” Allison says.

“Guilty. And I’m not the only one,” he says, and Andrew sends Nicky a warning look just as he glances meaningfully in his direction. Renee looks between them curiously.

“Well,” Matt says. “I’m fucking hungry. Anyone else feel like they haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a hundred years?”

“God, yes,” Dan says. “All they ever give me to eat are salads with half a teaspoon of oil or lemon juice or whatever.”

“Vinaigrette,” Allison corrects.

“Vinai-shit. I need something so greasy that it makes me sweat.”

“Matt’s right there,” Allison says, and Matt flicks her in the neck.

They bicker amongst themselves until Abby ducks her head in to tell them it’s time to eat. “Go ahead and serve yourselves, okay? And there’s, uh, cider in the fridge. No hard stuff until you’ve all eaten.”

“Thanks mom,” Dan jokes.

“Oh, please, I might as well be,” she replies, waving her off.

“Does that make Wymack our dad?” Matt asks slyly, obviously fishing. Abby gives him an unimpressed look and bobs back out of the room without answering.

“Come on monsters, new and old. Lets pretend we can stand each other sober,” Allison says, pushing off the counter.

They filter out, and Andrew hears Nicky say, disbelieving, “you guys are sober?”

Neil lingers in the kitchen, so Andrew leans up against the doorframe and waits.

“You can go,” he says.

“Yes,” Andrew agrees.

Neil’s shoulders sag, and he covers his face with one hand. “I can’t remember the last time I—socialized.” It’s an unexpected piece of honesty, and Andrew purses his lips.

“It shows.”

Neil looks up, disbelieving. “What, do you think you’re the paragon of small talk?” He tilts his head, scrutinizing, and answers himself— “No. Too much like lying, right?”

“Ding ding ding,” Andrew says. “He misses nothing.”

“I can’t usually afford to.”

Andrew stares. Neil looks back, looking a little clammy, a little hyper-focused. “Or what? Something gives you one of those scars?”

“Did something give you scars?” Neil counters, nodding at his arms.

“Mm, no, still not a good enough trade.”

“Then I’m still waiting,” Neil says lowly, “for you to tell me what is.”

Andrew stares at a crack in the ceramic backsplash, feeling Neil’s gaze rove over his face. 

He suffers through it for an entire ten-count, then turns wordlessly into the dining room. Neil follows immediately, before Andrew can catch his breath.

The room is full, the usual healthy dose of tension curdling in the joy that people like Nicky and Renee and Abby can’t seem to help spilling everywhere. Andrew sits at the head of the table, and Kevin settles at his right hand. He nudges out the seat to his left with his foot, and Neil sits in it wordlessly.

Renee bows her head in prayer. Nicky reaches for a ladle full of potatoes and Andrew yanks his hand back until Renee smiles and waves them ahead.

“So Neil,” Abby starts.

“Don’t put him on the spot too badly,” Dan says, licking sauce off of her thumb and reaching for the iced tea. “We’ve done enough of that already.”

Abby raises her hands innocently. “I was just going to ask how long he’s been singing.”

Neil appears pristinely composed, accepting everything that’s passed to him. Every expression moves across his face like it’s designed to look like a certain emotion, one mask in a series. “As long as I can remember,” he says thinly. “When I had the chance.”

“Any professional training?” Her face is mild and pleasant, and it sets Andrew’s teeth on edge.

“He’s an amateur,” Kevin answers for him.

“More of a natural talent,” Nicky says warmly, winking at Neil.

“I see,” Abby says slowly. “How did you… I mean, how did the boys find you, exactly?”

“He was trying to steal from us,” Andrew says. Neil looks at him narrowly.

Matt guffaws. “What could they possibly have had that you wanted?”

Neil shrugs with one shoulder. “Whiskey.”

Matt laughs again. Wymack rolls his eyes. “They conveniently left that part out when they were pitching him to me.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Andrew asks.

“No,” Wymack replies easily. “But I would’ve double checked my locks.”

“I’ve never stolen unless it was absolutely necessary,” Neil says woodenly.

“Right, so with the whiskey you were what? Dehydrated?” Allison says.

“Ease off, Allison,” Dan warns.

“Broke. Homeless,” Neil replies, sipping water, pretending not to notice that he’s the stone causing all the ripples of stress in the room. “But it wasn’t really worth the guitar to the stomach, in the end.”

A wince shudders around the table, and Wymack squints in Andrew’s direction.

“Wasn’t it?” Andrew asks, thinking of the way Neil’s head had eased back when he pinned him to the ground, bright interest in his slitted eyes. “We gave you your stage. You’re halfway to a household name by now.”

He says it because he knows, he can tell, what that visibility is doing to Neil. There’s always a second, before he loses himself onstage, that he scans the crowd for something, and his face is unrecognizable with fear.

Those eyes find him again. “So you want me to thank you for the smashed ribs? Should I be thanking Kevin for the bruised windpipe too?”

“Would you?” Andrew says, faux sweet.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Matt says.

“Thank you,” Neil tells him, eyes dark, almost hollow. “Really. It’s almost like being at home again.”

He stares. There are people in Baltimore who want me dead. That’s what Neil had told him about his home. He’d torn out of the van like it was filling up with water when he woke up in Annapolis.

The look on his face was unforgettable. His panic was like a corpse thrashing with electricity, like someone had tried to animate a dead thing.

He can remember staring at the little brass Spears written in cursive over the mailbox, facing the slate grey front door, never knowing whether he would open it to find a home or a nightmare. He’s since realized that they can be precisely the same thing at precisely the same time, tempting as a hearth until someone holds your hands in the fire.

“Andrew,” Renee says, coaxing his gaze away from Neil, away from the whole smouldering pile of memory and obsession. She’s smiling gently. “Do you want some gravy?”

He nods slowly. Neil’s focus is on his food now, and Dan’s talking earnestly to Wymack. Dinner trundles on.

They bring out dessert before all of the main course is cleared away, and he eats the maraschino cherries first, licking syrup off of his fingers, then dissecting graham crumbs and whipped cream from the filling. He stares down at the creased, recently frozen base, the middle breaking apart without a foundation, the off-white cream.

He splits the crust in half and reassembles the cake as a sandwich. Dan wrinkles her nose at the mess. Neil folds his cherry into his napkin distastefully. Andrew suddenly craves a cigarette more than sugar, and even more than that he needs a way to get his thoughts out.

He stands, and ignores the way everyone lets their conversations go to look up expectantly. He brushes past the table, through the living room, and out the front door. 

The screen clatters behind him, and he lights up immediately, flicking ash at the porch when it withers in the wind. He thinks of Neil guessing, without trying, that small talk is a lie Andrew refuses to take part in. He hates him so viciously that he can feel it showing on his face.

He digs in his back pocket for a notepad and stubby pencil, breathing sour, woody nicotine.

pipe dream, he writes. pipe dream, pipe dream. He rips the sheet out and tears it to soggy pieces with his teeth. Then he writes:

I can always taste

salt and copper when I’m dreaming

took a pipe to my head,

but you’re the one who’s bleeding

breaking crime scene tape

to open the front door

invisible monsters

no one fights anymore

lying like a mouth on fire

we’ll go up in smoke if we get any higher

Salt and copper cocktails

rim the glasses red

better off dying than already dead

drink yourself home, the sting might kill you

pare back your skin, make it grow back new

just because you set my bones, doesn’t mean you own them

it’s never flower bouquets, always fists full of stems

you’ll have to kill me

if you cut me from this ground.

He puts the notepad upside down on the top step and grinds his boot into its spine. Then he paces down the front path and crouches in the grass, and when he puts his cigarette out in the frost, the fresh, cold air makes his chest seize.

He looks down at the ‘no’ tattooed on his hand, and he lets the word blur into a mantra in his head.

“What’s this?”

He wheels around, and finds Nicky leaning over the top step with his squashed book in his hands.

“Put it down,” Andrew says, moving quickly back up the path, watching Nicky’s eyes dart over the page and feeling his legs go rod-straight with anxiety.

“Oh, Andrew—“

“Put it down,” he repeats, “or I put you in the hospital.”

Nicky’s grip sags, and he struggles to stand upright. “You can’t just—are you honestly going to pretend this isn’t about him?”

He doesn’t reply, but he swipes for the book hard enough that he raises a pale line on the back of Nicky’s hand. He throws it to the side, out towards his parked car, and takes Nicky to the front door with a forearm braced at his throat.

“Fuck, Andrew, you can’t be serious,” he struggles to say.

Andrew starts to shake, rage and fear rising in him at once, twin tides.

“You’re writing songs about him?”

“I wrote lyrics for our new vocalist,” Andrew snaps, “because you requested it.”

“Not for him. About him,” Nicky says, a veil of sadness over his whole face. Andrew shakes him. “But Andrew, I don’t think he’s—“

“I don’t care,” he grits.

Nicky looks uneasy. “I think you do.”

“I didn’t ask for an opinion.” He hammers the flat of his wrist into Nicky’s neck, somewhere between a shove and a blow, then lets him go all at once. He sags into the doorframe, apparently more stunned than hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Nicky wheezes, and Andrew knows he’s not talking about the unsolicited advice or invaded privacy.

Neil’s face appears at the hall window, reacting to the noise of a scuffle before anyone else. His expression is difficult to parse, poised like a pen and furrowed like paper.

Andrew climbs down from the porch, gets into his car, and drives away.