#i drive like an asshole sometimes but not necessarily for speeding | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emmyrosee · 4 years

Note

give us a random headcanon go 👀

UHM OK

This got long and kind of angsty I’m SORRY-

Axel and Mark are brothers. Axel’s older than mark by a fairly big margin so he offers that good ol’ elder brother wisdom™️ and Mark isn’t always here for it.

Axel’s had to drag mark out of parties more times than he can count, some because he was worried about his lil bro, some because he wasn’t answering moms texts and axel wasn’t about to let him make their momma feel bad.

Like this one time, their mom was punishing Mark for being completely shitfaced and missing something for their grampa, and Mark straight up snuck out of his room, no note, no regards, nothing, and with his mom fearing the absolute worst, that she’d lost her son, her baby, Axel quickly tracked down his brother and hauled his drunk ass right back home, speeding so fast mark was puking in the truck, yelling at him so bad mark pouted, and by the time they got home his brother was just a needy, scolded mess, and their mom was all over him, taking care of him and letting him puke and whine about his tummyache, and if she needed Axel to get anything, he did, not questions asked.

When mark was going through his first serious breakup, Axel really stepped forwards to work him back to normal, doing things with him other than just drinking the problems away like his friends wanted to. They went to cheap bowling alleys and drank cheap beer, they would drive around at 2 am, blasting music as they passed a joint, and it was probably the first real time- like honest, true, raw- that Mark learned it was okay to be a man and cry. He was hitting Axel, screaming and telling him she was every terrible name under the sun and that Axel had no idea what the fuck Mark went through to try to keep her happy.

When Axel pulled over, he shoved Mark back a little, just enough to straighten him back, telling him to stop being a pussy and just embrace it. She was gone. She was no good for him, and she was gone. She broke his heart, it was okay to be sad, and Mark wore his vocal chords raw with his sobs and shrieks of despair. “Why doesn’t she fucking want me, Axe? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing, dude,” he promises over his brothers tears. “You’re at a stupid age where love doesnt mean shit to nobody. Fuck, I am too. But right now, you’re sad because you’re alone, and one day you’re going to find someone, and they’re going to make you fear a lot of things more important than just ‘being alone.’ Trust me dude. You’re too fucking young to get that.”

They don’t talk about that night often. Axel’s jacket collar had been permanently ruined from Mark’s tears and hot breath against the leather, but from then on, instead of just getting drunk off his rocker when he was sad, he’d just find Axel and cry it out.

Their dad passed away when Mark was young, and their mom never really recovered from it. Because of this, Axel really took the role of being momma’s fix-it man, getting an under-the-table job when he was young and making sure Mark had snacks and lunches while their mom took care of the house. When momma Cluney eventually remarried, she never ceased to thank Axel for all he did, and it always put Mark in a weird feeling. Not that he wasn’t grateful beyond words, he just always felt bad that Axel had to go through that at such a young age.

“You were in Kindergarten,” Axel says cooly, passing his brother a beer. “What were you going to do, sell dunk-a-roos for cold, hard cash?”

“I could’ve done more,” he mumbles, taking a long sip of his drink. “Like... I could’ve been more grateful for the toys and the lunch money.”

Axel chuckles and reaches over to ruffle Mark’s hair, “hey; you were fed. You didn’t give mom too much shit. And on your birthday, you got the Power-Ranger toys you wanted. You were grateful. You just didn’t get why you had to wait until your birthday.”

Mark snorts and shoves Axel’s hand away, sighing softly, “I wish I knew him, dude..”

“You look just like him.”

“What was he like?”

Axel hums and leans back in his seat, fingers swirling the lip of his beer bottle, “I remember when I was nine, I told him I was going to run away. Go live in the treehouse of our old house.” He paused to smirk, “bastard made me a lunch box with two peanut butter sandwiches, a bag of barbecue chips and a juice box and said ‘good for you! You’re a man now, do what you gotta do!’ I never made it off of the porch.”

Mark snickers and they get real quiet. “I miss him,” he admits. “I don’t remember him... but I miss him.”

Axel hums again, “he was moms great love. Never laid a hand on us, nor her. He was a good man.”

Mark raises his bottle to his brother, “you’re a good man too, dude.”

“Believe me, mark,” Axel chuckles sadly. “I’m only a quarter of the man he was.”

On a lighter note, Axel taught Mark to drive. He filled his truck with gas, drove them both out to the city limits, butt-fuck no where, with a bag of fast food and his gps.

“Okay,” Axel hums. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

Axel pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them to his brother, “you’re driving us back home. Oh, and to CVS, mom needs sugar and milk.”

And with those buggy green eyes, Mark just completely stares at Axel, freaked out and worried (mostly because Axel’s truck is his baby, and Axel was levelheaded enough at all times to hide a body if need be), so with a reassuring smile, axel slips out of the driver side, gesturing mark to slide over the bench-seat, and he slowly walked Mark through the process of starting the car and driving back home.

He hit a curb. And ran a stop-light. Nearly hit a squirrel, but never once did axel raise his voice to him. He would simply tell him it was alright and that “it doesn’t have to be perfect; I just want you to get us home.”

When they finally pull in a few hours later, Mark was so terrified Axel would tell their mom everything, but axel just shook his head. “If I wanted you to be perfect, I wouldn’t have just thrown you into traffic; I wanted to make sure you could drive if I wasn’t around and mom needed you. You got home. We’re alive. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling easy, we’ll go to a parking lot or something. But you did fine.” He smiles and leaves the truck, “but don’t puke in the truck; do it in the front yard, please.”

Which. Mark obeys.

Whenever Mark’s birthday rolls around, Axel drives them up to an old lake house their great-grandparents built, only bringing some clothes, booze and a gas can to get in and out of town, and they fish, make s’mores, and just be kids again. Again, Mark is much younger than Axel, so all the memories Axel has here, Mark doesn’t, so he wants him to enjoy the young years of his life that Axel really couldn’t.

Sometimes, if they’re bold, they’ll bring whoever they’re dating or smashing, but they’ve found it’s better to just have a guys weekend away, only them two in the middle of the woods, with only the fish in the lake to keep them company.

“So you had a treehouse and a fuckin’ cabin before I came along?” Mark asks by the fire, marshmallow clinging to his face childishly. Axel snorts, “dude I haven’t had a birthday party since I was seven, then you showed up.”

“Oh I’m sooo sorry,” Mark sings, rolling his eyes and plopping the last of his s’more in his mouth. Axel sighs dramatically, “don’t be. You made mom happy,” he pats his brother on the shoulder. “And she said I wasn’t allowed to try and return you anymore, so.”

Mark laughs before his brows furrowed, “anymore?”

Axel smirks. “Why do you think you’re so claustrophobic now, Markie?”

“The fuck did you do to me?”

“Shoved you in a box and left you outside.”

“You WHAT.”

“Three times.”

They bicker. They fight. But they’d fucking die for each other. As they got older, they really became best friends and Mark is open to that fact.

In fact, for Axel’s birthday, Mark got his hands on a pikachu doll from the 90’s that Axel was dying to have a kid but couldn’t get because he had to help his mom take care of mark, but every now and again he brought it up to joke.

Mark could tell that, even as an adult, he still wanted that pikachu toy because he wouldn’t shut up about it, so he finally saved up and got it ($150 mint-condition his asshole), and when Axel opened it on his birthday, there was not a dry eye from anyone except Mark.

Big, green eyes flip from the toy to Mark, jaw dropped in surprise and just completely at a loss for words. Mark grins, “now you can shut up about it; you own it. Live your Ash Katchum dreams, freak.”

Axel laughs around his cries, a tattooed hand coming up to stop himself. He wastes no time in stalking his way over to his brother, pulling him in for a tight hug while the younger just hugs him back, still smiling before shoving him off when people tried to get pictures.

“Cant have people who get our Christmas card think I like you or anything,” he snorts, making Axel laugh again before going back to his seat to finish his gifts, but everyone (including himself) knew that Mark won that year.

The first time Axel brings someone home, they’re a guy. Their mom was chillin, she had no problems with it (though she didn’t really expect Morgan to necessarily be a man), Mark was pretty confused. Like, sure Axel always had friends over, but they were never cuddly and touchy before, and it made Mark really curious.

He probably brings it up on one of their fishing trips years later, and axel barely has any clue what he’s talking about at first.

“You seriously don’t remember Morgan?” Mark asks in disbelief. “Like, how do I, but you don’t?”

“I’ve been with a lot of people,” Axel shrugs. Then, he tenses up and a slow grin spreads across his face, “oh. Morgan.”

“Yes! Morgan, the first person you ever brought home!”

“They’re not Morgan anymore,” Axel recalls. “Well, to me anyways. After we broke up, they became she, and her name is Bella. We’re still close, she’s just not Morgan anymore.”

“So... are you... like...?”

Axel smirks, “I’m nothing, dude. No skin off my ass for labels. If you learn anything from me, Markie boy,” he turns to his brother, “do what makes you happy. Love who the hell you want. Mom’s going to love you. I’m gonna love you. And fuck anyone who tells you you can’t.”

“I think I’m straight.”

Axel chuckles. “You’ve just never pursued anyone who hasn’t gone after you; just so happens only women have gone after you.”

Mark frowns and sinks lower in his seat, “do you think... not-straight-guys are afraid of me?”

“I think they’re afraid of your frat-boy-fuck-buddies who tease someone for having any sort of human emotions,” Axel says nonchalantly. “I’ve taught you enough about treating people with respect, your friends don’t have the same drive you do.”

Which brings me to my next point

Axel ABSOLUTELY taught Mark about the birds and the bees.

He drove them both around town not long after Mark turned 14, and he parked at their town’s high school and just... talked about sex. What happens, how does it feel, etc..

“You need to listen to her, Mark,” he says sternly. “The minute you hear a “no,” you fucking stop. The minute you hear a ‘I don’t want to,’ you stop. I don’t care if you’re balls deep inside of her, you slip out, tuck yourself away and apologize for making her uncomfortable.”

“But what if-“

“No.”

That’s the basics; like what happens when you have sex, what how to use protection, and the importance of consent. A while later, once Mark starts going to parties, he drives them out again, only this time to talk about when she says “yes.”

“You gotta work her up,” Axel hums, cigarette low on his lips. “Her body will let you know when she’s ready. If you go in dry, you’re going to hurt her.”

“How do I like... do that?”

Axel smirks, “play with her a little. Kiss her nice and slow... let your hands paw and squeeze, let her moan a little, let her purr... I’ve been with a few girls who like being tickled and picked up, some girls like it more rough and playful too, a smack on the ass, a few bites on their neck-“

“How will I know?” Mark squeaks. “If she like... likes what I’m doing.”

Once again, Axel grins, “believe me, Markie boy- you’ll know.”

Sjfhvdgbgh I WANT MORE, MY BOYS🥺🥺

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itsybitsylemonsqueezy · 4 years

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Heyo! Can we have the nsfw hc's for Daigo's bfs? :3€ thank you in advance!!

Of course you can, my dear c: Apologies in advance for my very strong bias for my fav boy Mine, but I’ll try to be fair to everyone ^^;

Ryuji Goda:

Ryuji and Daigo have that classic enemies-to-lovers friction. That gloating victory, that simmering hatred melted away into physical attraction. So, at first, they’re all rough touch, biting and snapping and grabbing. No tenderness, no gentleness. But over time, this would cool to lazy ego-stroking and pampering. A knowing fondle, a smug tease.

Ryuji is the world’s laziest dom. I’m sorry, but he’s got a little too much of that “I’m king god and I know it” going on to put in effort most of the time. Oh, he’s happy to order you around and have you worship him, but he’s not going to make your job easier or even praise you too much for doing it, unless it’s to mock you. This isn’t to say that Ryuji’s mean, necessarily, just that he’s smug and everything’s about him.

If he ever gets around to actually fucking you and not insisting that you get him off in a way that does nothing for you, he will put in effort doing that. After all, he’d be unworthy of his exalted status if he couldn’t actually back up his claims. So he makes a point of fucking people good and hard, in a way they’ll remember. And he even makes it a point of personal pride that you enjoy it, even if that means he has to be gentle. Being strong enough to be gentle is still strength, after all. And you’ll hate him just a little bit more for the fact that he can make you feel nice and you like it.

Daigo certainly hates his smug face about it.

But the real trick is if you can get Ryuji on his back. He’s a whimpery baby when it comes to bottoming. He’s inexperienced taking it, but does enjoy it, which puts him in an awkward position, having to listen to someone else for a change. Suddenly it’s “Oh, be gentle with me!” and “Wait, slow down!” and not quite knowing what he wants anymore. It takes patience to get that far with him, but Daigo certainly think it’s worth it. Ryuji’s got an ass that won’t quit and driving into that self-congratulating asshole, no pun intended, is delightful.

Daigo prefers a more generous environment than Ryuji, but Ryuji’s stuck-up pride is appealing as a target to launch yourself at. And it is flattering that Ryuji won’t fight with you in the first place if he doesn’t think you’re worthy. It is a little warming in itself to have his attention.

In a long-established relationship, Ryuji’s pride would lose its edge, he wouldn’t feel quite so desperate to prove himself. So his teasing would be more fond and soft, less biting. Daigo would grow in confidence, able to rebuff Ryuji a bit better and lead him around if need be. Daigo sparks under Ryuji’s overbearing dominance, but only when Daigo’s trying to be dominant. Daigo’s happy to receive most of the time. It’s more the way Ryuji comports himself that is the issue. But Daigo would relax over time too, seeing Ryuji soften and open up. They could learn to be tender with each other, rather than only mock and sneer.

Mine Yoshitaka:

Fucking Mine is like driving a brand new Ferrari. It’s very sharp, very fast, very expensive. It’s beautifully designed. But it wants to be doing everything at 200 mph when most of your life is, at best, at the 60 mph speed range. And you know it’s going to break. You don’t know when, you don’t know where, but the thing is so fucking temperamental and insistent about going 200 mph that it’s just going to break, there’s nothing you can do about it, and you’ll have to get it repaired. That’s what fucking Mine is like.

Mine is an entire goddamn disaster. He’s SO hot and SO fucking on fire.

There is absolutely no way on earth Mine had ever fucked anyone before Daigo. Come on. Think about it. He’s very pretty but... psychotic. And also convinced that other people are, I don’t know, dust mites. Is fucking you going to get Mine power? No? Then why the fuck are we still talking?

So no, Mine never fucked anyone, may not have even been interested in sex at all before Daigo.

But he’s... oh god, he’s gotta be The Best at Everything. You can see where this is going.

Mine’s SO DESPERATE to prove how good he is at sex, how willing, how flexible, but he’s instantly overwhelmed by everything and we have to scale back his insane plans to... how ‘bout we hold hands in bed for awhile, okay? Maybe your blood pressure will go down some.

Daigo has to, somehow, contain Mine’s insane need to please and be The Best while also convincing him that it’s okay to take things one step at a time and slow down sometimes. He has to hold his hand through everything and show him, literally, all of the steps. Just kissing might paralyze Mine for a day, to say nothing of removing clothes or touching each other.

That’s okay, Daigo can be patient. Apoplectically insane doesn’t do it for everyone, but... there’s something charming, for Daigo, in the way that Mine will absolutely break if you’re cute to him, if you’re nice to him. It’s so little effort for Daigo to be nice, and he gets SUCH a response in return. That alone is satisfying. It’s okay that Mine needs to move inches at a time or he’ll explode. It’s okay that every little thing sets Mine off, it’s kinda adorable. As long as you can be patient and don’t have to look after him every second, it’s actually pretty functional.

After a lot of coaching and patience, their first time is... still a total disaster. But no one had to go to the hospital and Mine only wound up crying for an hour, so Daigo’s taking this as a good sign.

Slowly, after a lot of therapy and socializing him with other people, Mine calms down. Over time, Mine can become functional and even very skilled. As Mine would never accept “adequate” for anything. And Daigo can’t fault him for his ambition and discipline even if it is... terrifying to watch how fast he develops.

After the initial volcano of embarrassment and feelings of panic and unworthiness, once he finally fucking calms down, Mine becomes flawlessly competent. Daigo’s actually little worried that Mine could get him off in three strokes if put to it. He’s careful to absolutely never under any circumstances ask Mine to demonstrate.

And Mine’s own desires grow apace with his skills. Mine’s main kink is endurance. He’s sort of similar to Majima’s exhaustion and over-stimulation gambit, but it’s a little different. Majima wants to be fucked until he can’t think anymore. Mine wants to prove his stamina, he wants to be the greatest physical specimen possible. So marathons are truly his thing. Daigo struggles to keep up.

Fortunately, Mine is an absolutely mewling bottom, hungry for any attention. He wants to be stretched to his limits whenever possible, pushed to the utmost, but he’d never forgive himself if Daigo isn’t also enjoying himself. He learns to balance the two, to make sure Daigo is having a good time and not ask... more than is humanly possible.

Even so, fisting is not out of the question for him and Daigo has, on occasion, worn a cock sheath. Mine’s a bit of a size queen. Again, the stamina thing. He’s... he’s insatiable in almost all possible ways.

Mine will also gladly fuck Daigo! He has never refused a request from his one and only beloved and he never will. But Mine has no impulse to dominate. He doesn’t need to prove anything, he already knows he is the best there is, and he doesn’t need to serve to derive his sense of purpose and meaning. He will serve, but it is only to make Daigo happy. His pride is taken from how happy he can make Daigo, rather than anything about the act itself. His intense attention is borderline unbearable, but Daigo has gently coached him into where to direct his attention and how much intensity is needed. Mine is a ready and willing student, trying hard to be the right amount of too much, rather than monstrously too much. So he’s always excited to be ordered by Daigo and do what he likes. Daigo, for his part, has never been disappointed.

Daigo, despite the incredible emotional and physical exhaustion of fucking Mine, does enjoy it. Mine does push him to his limits and asks for so much, but... the loopy, satisfied smile on Mine’s drained face when he finally lays back, when he’s at last loose and pliable... it fills Daigo with such a sense of satisfaction and pride and love. Whenever Daigo doubts himself, whenever he’s unsure, he remembers that the most perfectionist man on earth is head-over-heels in love with him and begs to be fucked every night... nothing comes close to being that kind of ego trip. And Mine is even genuinely reassuring when Daigo needs that too.

It’s a disastrous beginning and it’s rough and rocky for awhile, but... in time, their dynamic becomes a smooth beat-counterbeat of lust and confidence, doubt and reassurance. They support each other in their weak spots and they love each other for it.

Shinada Tatsuo:

Shinada is like a breath of fresh air after the work of those last two. He is neither on fire nor selfish. A welcome relief for Daigo, if he fucked the last two. Finally someone he doesn’t have to put in all the work for.

Shinada is the definition of easy going. Whatever you want to do, he’s up for it. And with his predilection for sex workers, safe to say he’s not a virgin by any means. No awkward hand holding with him.

Shinada is not much of a dom, way too lackadaisical to take charge, but he is very warm and giving. So if Daigo just wanted to be taken care of today, he’d do his best to comply. He doesn’t have Mine’s intensity or stamina nor Ryuji’s forceful personality, but he’s sincere and generous and that goes a long way.

Shinada is far more willing to be acted upon though. He’s lazy in the exact opposite way of Ryuji. Shinada would love to be fingered and fucked and taken care of, while putting in very little effort to achieve this. He’s happy to receive your energy and fierce determination. And at this point in Daigo’s life, sometimes he needs to take charge, just for the sense of control over something. Shinada’s got no problem with that and it’s reassuring and satisfying to know that Shinada’s happy with whatever you have to give him. Not having to put in a major effort or think about what will make him happiest makes Daigo’s job a lot easier.

Not to say that Daigo wants to just use Shinada and leave him. Daigo’s very kind and cuddly with Shinada, eager to appreciate him simply because he’s so low effort. Shinada thinks it’s cute the way Daigo tries to pamper him.

Daigo does sometimes push Shinada for more, ask him to go harder, to be rougher, but it isn’t really in Shinada’s make up to be forceful and intense. He’s up for anything so he never blinks if Daigo asks for something a little unusual or wants to experiment with something new, but at the same time, there’s no drive in him for any particular thing.

Shinada’s main kink is hands, using his hands or hands being used on him. Hands are still his best method of communication, still dexterous and tactile, even if he’s out of practice these days. Also toys, strangely. He loves self-service toys or partner toys. They take some of the effort off of any one person to perform a certain way while still making sure everyone’s satisfied. No much ruffles him, but he will get a little blushy if you praise him a lot.

Daigo... loves to be taken care of. But also likes to fuck people into whimpery piles. He’s just so tired at this point. Sometimes he misses Ryuji’s demands or Mine’s intensity. But right now, he likes taking it easy with a sweet, pretty boy who like to lay in the sun and do nothing. He’s easy to pamper and his eyes go wide for just a little love and care. Daigo likes making someone happy and not having the fear that it will all go horribly wrong all too soon.

Shinada sees him get sad sometimes and hugs him close, murmurs gently and keeps their hands close. He doesn’t mind that Daigo’s hurt and has been through a lot. He’s happy to be with him now and to make him happy in whatever ways he can.

#Ryuji Goda #Mine Yoshitaka #Shinada Tatsuo #Dojima Daigo #Daigo's boyfriends #Yakuza #ask Lemon #Anonymous

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unholy-merchant · 5 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet:

Death

Sorry again that this took so long but seeing as exams are finally over in free to write as much sin as I want and will most likely posting more alphabet later. I hope you enjoy!

A = Aftercare (What are they like after)

Death will tend caringly to your needs. He's gentle in a way you've never seen before. Giving you small and tender kisses while massaging every inch of your body. Death will do more than he needs to, grabbing you water and massaging your back. It surprises him when you also give him some sweet loving. He’ll caress your back, whispering I love you sweetly into your ear. Death seems to know exactly what you need after sex.

B = Body Part (Their Favorite body part of theirs and their partners)

Our Grim Reaper doesn't seem to really care for himself, but if he had to choose a body part he liked it would be his hands. His touch is both rough yet gentle. It has a certain yearning to it. He’ll have you moaning his names within seconds of touching your sweet spots. For you, he likes your eyes. He likes how much they tell him without you saying anything. They way they glow with a heated passion for him. It's very intimate to him.

C = Cum (Anything to do with their seed)

Death is a messy man and will definitely cum onto your stomach. His go-to is missionary so when he pulls out it's either on your chest or on your stomach. Hot and Steamy, Short but full strands. As for quantity, let's just say it's enough to satisfy.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty Self Explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You know that soul splitter thing he does? Well yeah. He wants to have sex while split into his two halves. One teasingly you slowly, rubbing all those sweet spots that make you whimper and beg. While the other whispers dirty thoughts into your ear. All the while your heat rises within your core but you're being denied from ultimate pleasure. Don't worry they both give you what you want after.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

Death has had his fair share of lovers and I would say he is very experienced. But not in a gross way. Death knows exactly what he is doing and will not hesitate to give you the pleasure you want. That being said Death is also a massive tease. He’ll have you moaning his name with just a simple yet lustful touch. He definitely knows how to satisfy you.

F = Favorite Position (What position they like to see ya in)

As I said in the above his go-to is Missionary. He wants you to be facing him, looking him deep into the eyes as he pleasures you. Your eyes tell him everything that he needs to know. Especially as to where those sweet spots of yours are.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous?)

Sex is a time for him to be intimate with you. A time where he is vulnerable. Where he is given a chance to show how much he loves you. So you bet that he is going to be serious throughout your love session.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the Carpet match the drapes?)

Death makes sure that it is at least manageable. Out of the four, he is the busiest and doesn't necessarily have time for grooming. But he does manage it. Will try to manage it if he does have any free time. Carpets do match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Death is very intimate during and after sex. Sweet nothings and praise will constantly be whispered in your ear, followed by a few dirty words. He will link your forehead together sometimes stealing a few kisses from your lips. Death just wants to show you how much he loves and appreciates you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Doesn't do it often. If he has a boner he usually just ignores and tries to think of other things. Only when it gets to the point to where it's interfering with what he is doing does he go to take care of it. He usually makes sure he's by himself before unveiling his “Companion.” Takes long slow strokes up and down his shaft. That's if he's taking his time. If he needs to hurry up he’ll go faster. His moans are deep and guttural and might have to moan or bite into his cowl to keep himself quiet once he's reaching his end. Once he does though he is relieved and will quickly clean himself off before going back to what he was doing.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Bondage is definitely one of his kinks. It lets him explore your body completely. All while you moan for, or gasp at his touch. He’ll be leaving loves marks/hickies everywhere on your body so be prepared. Death is also willing to explore one of your kinks if ever given the chance.

L = Location (Favorite place to do the do)

Your home. In your bedroom most likely. He doesn't want anyone seeing both of your nude body's, So he tends to keep sex indoors and in private.

M = Motivation (What gets them going?)

When you both bicker but in a good way. You both taking light jabs at each other and just being sarcastic assholes. If you both are alone, Death likes it when you render him speechless.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do/turn-offs)

Anything that will put you in danger or in harm's way, so don't try to suggest anything like that. The Daddy kink, he absolutely hates it. It's gross and he doesn't understand the appeal. Please never call him that. Like Strife, he doesn't like it belittlement. This man's been through enough and doesn't want someone he loves telling him he's a bad person.

O = Oral (Preferences in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He gives more often then he receives. He likes the way you come undone by his tongue. He��ll make sure to take his time and savoring the way you taste. Will get you nice and wet. It's a different story when he receives. Again your eyes shine with a lustful passion that just gets his blood flowing. He'll rake his hands through your hair as you suck him off. The sensation your lips bring his erected cock. He loves it.

P = Pace (Fast and Rough or Slow and Sensual?)

Death is definitely Slow and Sensual. It doesn't matter what you are, Angel, Demon, Human, etc. Slow and Sensual. Sex it a time to be intimate and its the only time where he can have a few moments of peaceful bliss. Just having you there is enough for him. Although if you both are in a more heated moment then he might be a bit faster and rougher.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies than then proper sex, how often?)

Quickies don't satisfy him. Death prefers proper sex over a quickie. That being said Death won't do quickies, he wants to satisfy you completely. Although they are convenient at times.

R = Risk (Are the game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

He's always willing to experiment with you. He wants to know what makes you moan and what sort of positions can give you both the utmost pleasure. He, however, will not experiment with places, if it's in your home then he will but if it's outside then he won't. He won't usually take risks, his job is already risky enough and he just wants to come home to some sweet love after.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long can they last?)

He can go for a while. He is a Nephilim after all. It's also noted that Death has incredible speed and you bet that also transfers to the bedroom too. However, he'll probably give either one or two rounds. I've said it many times and I'm going to say it again, Death is a very busy man so going a while with you isn't really an option. But if he does, however, find the time he will go a few rounds with you possibly three or four. He doesn't want to go overboard so Four is probably his limit for you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them on their partners or themselves?)

I would say he doesn't. He doesn't need a toy to get his love wet and begging. He can do that on his own with a swipe of a finger and a soft or dirty word. Toys are a bit of a nuisance to him and would rather have sex without one. He doesn't mind if you have one. It's for your pleasure when he's not around

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease?)

Teasing is his specialty. He’ll make sure you crumble and beg. Cold Hands scaling the length of your body, enhancing your sensations. He will tease nearly everything you have to offer. You get the utmost pleasure from his teasing. He knows how to rub you the right way and leaving you begging. His touch is a very cold yet a excruciating hot at the same time. Sex is never boring with Death.

V = Volume (How loud are they, what sounds do they make?)

He's not loud at all. It's usually soft sighs as he enters your core. Grunts and Guttural moans when he travels farther within you. Death will moan softly into the crook of your neck and will just entrance you with his low and sexy voice.

W = Wildcard (Get a random headcanon)

Death likes it when his hair is pulled during sex. It gets him going in a way. When he's giving oral and you rake your hand through his hair, pulling at those fine locks. Or when he thrusting into you, both of you panting heavily and you just snake your arm up his back into his hair and pull at him. It gives him a sense of pleasure and it let's him know he's hitting all the right spots in all the right way.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's in those pants!)

Death is longer in length and has a medium size girth. Not only does he have a very voice but he has a package to match that. 6 inches pushing 7.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Not high at all. He reserves sex for special occasions. However, if you do ask to make love to him he will make love to you. Sex is an intimate thing and Death won't have sex often, and again reserves it for special occasions because sex is a way he can show you he loves you without words and more on touch. It also leaves him kind of vulnerable. He's also way too busy for it and won't necessarily have the time to make love to you even if he is in the mood. And he definitely won't give you a quickie to satisfy you both.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward?)

Death has a hard time sleeping. So it may take hours for him to truly fall asleep. And if he can't then he’ll just lay there, with you wrapped safely in his arms. He watches over you as you sleep, admiring every little thing he loves about you. Stroking your delicate cheeks and/or your waist. You're his everything, so he just holds you as the night drifts on.

#darksiders #darksiders death #death #darksiders 2 #unholy writes sin

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justauthoring · 5 years

Text

This Is Gonna Hurt [S.H.]

Request(s): Heckerino okay fine for some angsty shit (that's also real life shit) can I request a Steve x reader with an abusive brother, basically worse than Billy? And Steve defends the reader or gets her out of the house when he heard screaming matches our things being thrown? Thank youuu xoxo

How about a Steve x reader where the reader is Billy’s younger sister and is sweet and not a dick like billy but she stands up to their dad and he hits her and billy doesn’t know what to do so he takes her to Steve and then whatever you want can happen?

Requested by: @unleashthebeees

A/N: I hope that you both don’t mind that I combined your requests and then altered them just slightly to make them work together! They were just similar and I thought rather then making two similar fics, i’d combine them!

Word Count: 1,045

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Steve was on his way home when he heard screaming.

At first, it’d been like a distant echo in the back of his mind. He’d already had to stay late after school to fix an essay that he needed to get a good grade on and he was ready to go home and just go to sleep. So, needless to say, he was in a rush to get out of the school and to his car.

So, even though he heard the screaming, he just ignored it. Until it got louder when he reached the parking lot.

He paused, his brows furrowing as his eyes wandered in search of the source. Unsurprising, he wasn’t surprised when his eyes landed on Billy Hargrove. However, he was surprised to see you on the receiving end of Billy’s screaming and for you to be returning it just as full-force.

Steve wasn’t unaware of how much of a dick Billy could be. He’d been on the receiving end of it many times and he’d seen it when he went to pick up Dustin from Mike’s house every so often and Billy would be there to pick up Max. Though, if Steve remembers, it used to be a lot worse before Max actually decided to stand up for herself.

But, he’d never seen Billy yet at you. Unlike Max, you were Billy’s actual sister instead of step-sister and while Steve had never seen Billy be necessarily nice to you, it’d never been this before.

There was also, Steve noticed, a large purple bruise on Billy’s right eye and a little bit of blood trailing from his hairline.

Now, at first, Steve was simply going to leave it. He didn’t really feel like getting into a fight with Billy, and even though Steve hated Billy but liked you, he didn’t think it his place to get involved. It left an unsettling feeling in his stomach, yes, because Steve had noticed you in the halls, just like he’d noticed your brother. But you were much sweeter then your brother. A lot tamer too.

You mainly just kept to yourself. You were quiet and studious, that much Steve could tell. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t harbour just a tiny little crush on you.

But it really was none of his business. He kept his mouth shut, clenched his fists and moved towards his car.

Until he saw Billy grab you by your shoulders and shove you against the hood of his car, before slapping you across the face. Because of the force of the hit, you lost your footing and went tumbling towards the ground, landing with a soft cry as you stared up at Billy in a mixture of fear and disbelief. Steve watched in disbelief as he continued to scream relentlessly at you and then suddenly his feet were moving and his lips were parting.

“Hey!” He bellowed, voice booming. “Hey, get the hell away from her, Hargrove!”

With a few quick, lunging steps, Steve reached you and Billy, grabbing the latter by the collar of his shirt and all but shoving him backwards. Billy didn’t have time to prepare himself, so the lunge sent him to the floor much like he’d done to you. But Billy also didn’t appreciate people involving themselves in his business and especially not Harrington, so he was on his feet in seconds.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Harrington.” Billy growled, it not at all sounding like a question as he puffed his chest out, attempting to look a lot more threatening then he did minutes ago. “Last I checked this has got nothing to do with you, so why don’t you mind your own damn business.”

“It becomes my business when I see you shove your own fucking sister to the ground,” Steve growled, setting his hand against Billy’s chest. “So back off.”

You watched on in disbelief, still on the ground. Tears welled in your eyes, some managing to stream down your cheeks as you stared up at the two boys before you, not sure what to do. Then, as Billy took a threatening step towards Steve, you suddenly snapped out of your stupor, jumping up to your feet. “Billy!” You screamed, voice cracking as you stepped in front of Steve. “Back off!”

Billy looked stunned for a moment, his eyes falling on your own before his lips curved into a grin. “Am I seeing this right? Are you really standing up for Harrington?” Scoffing, Billy shakes his head, stepping towards you and reaching for your wrist. “Let’s just go home. Continue this later, privately.”

You pull your hand away from him, “no,” you growl, surprising Billy. Raising your chin, you stare defiantly up at him. “Go home by yourself, Billy.”

There’s a moment of pause, Billy’s eyes moving from you to Steve and just as he looks like he’s about to do something, you speak up.

“Dad will be looking for you.”

Then, Billy’s scoffing, spitting at your feet before moving around you and heading towards his car. You are quick to move away, pulling Steve with you as Billy speeds off, just narrowly missing you.

A moment later, you let out a sigh.

“Thank you.”

Steve blinks, turning to you. “I--”

“He just gets so angry sometimes,” you continue, cutting Steve off softly. Gripping you arm, you avoid Steve’s gaze, biting your lip. “I swear he doesn’t mean to, but--”

“Hey,” Steve interrupts, pulling your eyes on him in surprise. “Don’t make excuses for that asshole. Nothing excuses hitting your own sister.”

Lips parting in surprise, you feel your shoulders ease, a soft smile curling onto your lips. “I guess.” Steve nods and then you swallow thickly; “well, I should really get going.”

Steve’s brows furrow; “going? Where?”

“I don’t a ride,” you remind, pointing in the direction Billy sped off. “I’m gonna take the bus before my dad begins wondering where I am.”

“I could drive you.”

His offer surprises you, once again, as your eyes widen. “Oh, no, you don’t--”

“No, really,” Steve cuts off gently, his lips curving into a small grin in hopes of assuring you. “I don’t mind.”

“If you’re sure...”

Steve nods, his grin brightening, “of course, come on.”

Let me know what you thought?

#Stranger Things #Strangers Things imagine #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve imagine #Steve x reader #Steve #Joe Keery #Joe Keery imagine #imagine #imagines #my fics

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thatparkinsongirl · 7 years

Text

WORLDS.

Friends. No one ever told you life was gonna be this way. The apartment complex has seen better days but it’s a roof over your head and that’s more than enough to be grateful about. There’s a pitch-perfect coffee shop on the corner and the people on your hall are actually fantastic.

Disaster. It’s the end of the world. Everything in ruins. You’re running, running, just trying to survive these last days. You sleep fitfully, even then still alert, one hand tangled with theirs and the other gripped around a gun/wand. Or alternately, you’re the crackpot science team that first discovered something was wrong. You’ve all been locked up behind miles of reinforced steel in the CDC? NSA? Area 51? trying to solve this disaster. You were pulled away from your families, not able to save them, not able to take anything. Coffee, coffee, MRE meals. Microscopes, slides, formulas scribbled across white boards trying not to give in to the impending doom.

Inversion. This is not the world you know. Here, Headmaster Riddle pats a young boy on the shoulder and gives some much needed advice. Here, Grindewald and Dumbledore strike fear in the hearts of all the muggleborns. Here, everything and everyone is just a little off center. Your choices define you. (Borrowed from here)

Darkest. Dark magic thrums through your veins, slick and oily. You crave it, live for it. The forbidden section has been your second home ever since the first time you snuck in second year. You are something to be feared. The magic you play with is going to change the world. It’s not about hurting people (sometimes an unfortunate side effect) or taking over the world necessarily (though that is a goal), it’s about this sickly curiosity in magic. How far can you can go? How many lines can you cross? LOOsely off this in which the golden trio go somewhat dark, https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334630/chapters/14514247. Particularly there’s a whole thing in which they bond themselves to each other in a fit of codependency which just yessssss.

Rich as fuck. Money, money, money. Money is the anthem of success. Fast life, shiny diamonds, the best clothes. Speeding too, too fast down the highway, hand out the window. Cops won’t pull you over; they know better. Your lives are a never-ending party. Super Rich kids by Frank Ocean.

Roadtrip bitches. It’s the summer before university. The last hurrah before you all go your separate ways. Long, too deep conversations around a fire while you all smoke. Roadtrip mix blaring through the speakers. Seeing every weird roadside attraction you can. Talking about growing up, childhood, fears, change. About how you could go a year without speaking to someone but they’re still, always gonna be your best friend.

Political. Is it the west wing or house of cards?? Are they corrupt as fuck, bribing and killing and manipulating their way or they earnest and honest as possible, hearts brimming with desire to make the world something worth living in.

PUnk. idk. Hip hop. DJs. Raves. Tattoo artists. Lighters. Smoke rising up into the sky. Motorcycles and a shit ton of leather. Graffiti in the alleyway behind the bar you own.

Therapy. Post-war, and it’s rough. The physical scars are easy enough to ignore. It’s several months before you break down and join the therapy group at St. Mungos. You all swear you’re only there for the free coffee and doughnuts. Phobias, triggers, panic attacks. Recovery. Late night phone calls cause you had the nightmare again.

Olympics. Fencing? Swimming? Hockey? Gymnastics? Ice skating? Or, I mean, alternately, they could be in the Quidditch world cup. Competitors who like mock each other but also hardcore root for each other. It’s a small community and you all have known each other your entire life. It’s been a fight but here you are on the olympic team, favorites for the gold.

Doctors. Late night hours. 12 hr shifts. Narcissism. The ultimate god complex. Shitty coffee. Stress. Lost a patient today, saved a patient tomorrow. Fighting over who gets to be second on the awesome heart surgery. A quickie in the on call room because damn your ass looks fine in those scrubs. Quizzing each other over a quick lunch. Complaining about your attending at the bar on your first night off in ages.

Unspeakables. They died, struck down during the war and none of you could bear to survive without them. The plan is put together in the early hours of the morning, feverish. It’s stupid, selfish; all this to save one life. You all join the Unspeakables because the rumor is they’ve been working on creating new time turners. None of you care who suffers for this as long as you can get them back.

How to Get Away With Murder/I Know What You Did Last Summer. You’re tied together by an awful, terrible secret. None of you can risk turning on each other. You’ve made sure of that. Toxic people. Guilt. There’s a body in the morgue with your names on it. It was an accident truly but the covering it up that was deliberate. Maybe some unknown person knows and is blackmailing you all or maybe, maybe they’re just trying to get away with it.

Spaceeeee. Inspired by the Wolf 359 and the Strange Case of Starship Iris. Science. Space. Discovery. Futuristic. Bonding because you’re trapped together in a tiny space ship. Conspiracy. Suicide missions. Technology betraying you. The fate of the entire human race resting on your shoulders.

Parks&Rec/Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Any job-lawyers, firefighters, coffee-shop. It doesn’t matter because they’ve become a tight-knit family. Work hijinks, skinny love probably, I broke your email after I sent you 20 cat memes in a row. office parties. a hint of danger and risk (ok i admit it i like the firefighter one best). My very first day I was driving around trying to find the staff parking and a car honked, whizzed past me, yelling something crude out the window. It turned out to be my new boss.

Dark Post War. With Voldemort dead, Death Eaters being rounded up left, and peace returned to Wizarding London for the first time in more than a decade, it’s easy to believe that all is well. (The problem is that there is no length that people won’t go to protect their peace once they get it back.) Conscription into the Aurors for eligible wizards is enacted to ensure a strong standing against any lingering Voldemort supporters. A man in a black robe is murdered in the street one night because a young, nervous Auror thought he was a Death Eater. Incredibly harsh sentences handed down for any war crime. When Hogwarts finally reopens its doors over a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, it’s to the complete eradication of the Slytherin house (there are rumors about what happens to the children that the Sorting Hat would’ve sorted into Slytherin) and the addition of core classes. It is not a school but a training ground. Certain shops in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade are shut down for “sedition” and “miscreant behavior”, most notably Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Known war hero, Hermione Granger, is tossed in a Ministry cell for two months for sedition, after she attempts to prevent the arrest of a werewolf. Released war prisoners, people like the Zabini family who did not bear the Dark Mark but who were afflicted with Dark families, and “potential dark wixen” are branded by the Ministry as a warning to the public. All the while, the Ministry reports capturing dangerous Death Eaters, spotting war criminals in Hogsmeade, about danger lurking everywhere. The official statement is that they are trying to right mistakes made after the defeat of Grindewald, if they’d taken a stronger offense then Voldemort never would have happened. What it boils down to though is fear and vengeance and the shifting tide of power.

Darkest Minds. So I’m finally reading this series since the movie’s coming out soon. I’m only 6 chapters in thus far but yes! this plot! would! definitely! want!

Dark Academia. The Secret History!!! Probably, definitely a secret society!! Mystery! The most pretentious assholes you will ever meet. Arguments over classic literature. Speaking latin to each other so no one else knows what they’re saying. Tweed jackets. Fall in New England. Tea. No i don’t own a tv I believe they’re corrupting the youths’ minds. Insomnia. A 40 page treatise on the Odyssey.

Alternate Fifth Year. In a world where the young slytherin fifth years spend the summer of between fourth and fifth year, watching their parents with disgust and trepidation. They are ambitious, devoted to self-preservation and they are smart enough to see that following the Dark Lord is a road to ruin. Lucius Malfoy comes back from Death Eater meetings, shaken, Mr. Nott Senior with a long cut down his face. No, the slytherins have no interest in a life like that. It’s too bad then that they’re not even being taught Defense in school. It’s luck that they hear about the group of students that have started practical magic in secret. Canon divergent fifth year where the slytherins join Dumbledore’s Army. Can start after fifth year too but like that’s where it diverges.

Back Home*. When they say you can’t ever go home again, they mean it, because home isn’t a static location, it’s a word full of extra connotation. It’s tied to a specific time and emotion and feeling. A group of friends return to their small hometown for the first time in eight years for the funeral of a mutual friend. Some of them have vaguely kept in touch but for the most part despite how close they were growing up they’ve all drifted apart. A story about loss, growing up, nostalgia, fear, and friendship. You won’t ever the same kind of friends you had when you were young.

Shadow Children (Margaret Peterson Haddix). Futuristic, dystopian. Every family is allowed ONLY 2 children yet secret 3rd children do exist, living in the shadows and scraps. Some are lucky enough to get a fake identity and freedom. So I read this series when I was like 11 or something and they’ve kind of haunted me ever since. I’d probably wind up disappointed if I ever tried to reread them but whatever. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the first book lately, in regards to all the school kids protesting gun violence and the people in power just looking away as more children die, and just viscerely reminds of the horror I had reading the end of the first book in which (SPOILER) one of the main characters goes to a protest on the front lawn of the white house esque government building, convinced that if enough them protest, if they demand justice, they can get it. Each and every person at the protest is gunned down. For young me who had largely only read books where everything wound up happy as long as you were brave and honest and full of spirit, this was an enormous shock. Idk how this would work but yes!

CONNECTIONS.

Bodyguard. Mighty, mighty need for this. You’re the ambassador or president or queen or minister’s kid and your parents hire a bodyguard. You resent their protection. Ruining your semblance of a normal life. Judging you. You can’t help slipping their protection. Heart to hearts. Shared truths. Grudging respect and whatever. Ugh and the sexual tension, more alive than a power line. The attack comes out of left field and it’s a mess. (This. So down to play this out as whatever characters in any world)

Death. Straight up angst here. Final battle death scene. One second they’re right there and the next there’s a flash. You hold your hands over the gaping wound, screaming for a healer but you both know it’s over. Tears mixing with blood. Maybe they become a Hogwarts ghost. (Any character, any sort of relationship-married, dating, siblings, best friends, we shouldve dated but now your dying my arms)

Toxic. Do I feel guilty about having a thing for fictional toxic relationships? Yes, yes I do. But does that change anything? no. “Oh, we broke ages ago.” But everyone rolls their eyes when you say it. Because neither of you can stop and everyone knows. A couple of drinks in and you can’t keep your hands off each other. There’s still jealousy and toxicness and protectiveness and posssesiveness. There’s a dent in the wall from the time you threw a lamp at them. And god, if you could just make it work but love just isn’t enough sometimes. I’d tattoo your name on my arm but i wouldn’t marry you(Any characters)

Married in Vegas. You two hate each other’s guts. You’re constantly trying to one up each other in front of the boss. And you both always have a different way of approaching a problem. You steal candy bars out of their desk and they keep getting you locked out of your computer somehow. But your both the best so of course your selected for the Vegas conference work is holding. What happens next?? well?? a lot of alcohol, you know that. Neither of you quite remember but those rings on your fingers might mean something.

Romeo and juliet. Mob vs. cops or Death eaters vs. Order. Forbidden romance. Secret meetings. My uncle killed your father. You have a body count that would make them blush. Maybe you’ll turn states evidence for them. Maybe they’re just using you. (any)

Softsoftsoftsoft. Bakery and coffee shop across from each other. Skinny love. A lot of Troye Sivan and Hayley Kiyoko playing. Longing stares, blushing, awkwardness. All your friends say they are definitely into you but??? Or alternately, you co-own the bakery coffee shop and you’ve been dating since third year and your friends all want to kill you. Because ughhh noone should still be that in love. Some serious codependency and domesticity here. Like if anyone’s seen How I Met Your Mother-Lily and Marshall. (any)

Misunderstandings. Classic trope. Of course, you thought they were dating. They live together, steal food from each others plates, share sweaters, tease each other relentlessly, constantly physically affectionate. Really what were you supposed to think. Cue the miscommunication and needless pining and hilarity. (any)

Bonnie and Clyde. Gringotts robbers? Who knows but you’re criminals and you’re good at it. Three steps ahead of the aurors. Careless laughter, drunk on adrenaline. Drive it like you stole it by the Glitch Mob!! and End Credits by Eden!! (any)

Siblings. I’m sorry that all the others are relationship plots because I really do high key love a good best friends/siblings plot. Real siblings or we grew up together and i would murder someone for you siblings. They know each other better than the backs of their hands. Secrets are for other people. Soft plot-just them taking care of each other after a tragedy. Tough love-you fucked off to Paris because you couldn’t deal with your life and they dragged your ass back because when you were kids they promised not to let you make any irreversible mistakes. protective-just. they keep doing dangerous shit and risking their life and you have to knock some sense into their thick skull. Ridiculous-they are everyone’s worst nightmare, stuck together like glue, always causing trouble. Spitting gum down at people from the astronomy tower. Finding ways to beat the anti-cheating quills. Actually helping your sibling get rid of a body. (any)

Best friends/Squad. You all meet at the bar religiously after work. Got each other’s back still, always, forever. Growing up doesn’t mean you have to lose them. (all; I watched the whole first season of golden girls last night so I’ve got a lotta squad feelings. )

Parent and child. Honestly just this song. Heirloom by Sleeping at last!!!! You’re both trying your best but there’s always going to be this tension, these mistakes on both sides. Regrets, nostalgia, angst, softness, forgiveness. (any, but this song always gives me Draco-Scorpius and Harry-Albus vibes)

Eighth Year Partners. PostWar. After a review of Hogwarts’ records, it’s decided that the school year of 97-98 will have to be repeated for all students. In an effort to bring the students of all houses together to promote healing and unity, a random buddy system is set up. A Ravenclaw sixth year paired with a Gryffindor fifth year. A Hufflepuff and Slytherin second year paired. So on and so forth. Though Headmaster McGonagall believed it was a good opportunity, she was loathe to force any student into something they didn’t want, certainly not after the past few years. Thus her only fast rule for the partnerships was sitting together for two meals a week. Some took full advantage of the system, studying together, attending each other’s quidditch games. Others sat in stony silence during the required time only.

@ginevraxweasleyy @marcusflvnt @occlumensism

#my dears my darling ones i made a thing #by no means a comprhensive list im down to do literally anything in any plot in any world but this a few ideas i guess to jumpstart things #cries a few ideas #lollollol #plots

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allyinthekeyofx · 8 years

Text

Small considerations between partners - 7 ‘Swaying isn’t dancing’

Previous chapters - Season one Season two Season three Season four

Season five Fight The Future

SMALL CONSIDERATIONS BETWEEN PARTNERS

AllyinthekeyofX

SWAYING ISN’T DANCING

Season six – post ‘The Rain King’

As I carefully negotiate the car back to the motel I am aware that Scully is unusually quiet beside me; in fact she has barely said a word since we left the auditorium and while I’m more than accustomed to the companionable silences that often stretch between us, this seems different somehow because the vibe she is giving me, while not annoyed exactly is certainly more than a little off.

If it weren’t for the residual floodwater that occasionally laps almost to the bottom of the door seals when we hit a dip in the road I would probably find some way to question her on it but right now I am more concerned with us getting back in one piece. The problem being of course is that the longer I don’t speak, the less inclined she will be to tell me what is bothering her. She has always been the same way and I’ve discovered through years of trial and error that if I can catch her early enough, before she starts to rationalise, I have a slim chance of her opening up; but leave it too long and the book is closed for good.

So I risk a glance in her direction, surprised to discover that she isn’t looking straight ahead as her profile suggested, but that her head is actually angled slightly toward mine, watching me as I drive us through the deserted streets. The minute my eyes meet hers though she swallows and looks away, a curious expression on her face that seems like a mixture of embarrassment and something else I’ve never seen before and which I can’t quite put my finger on.

“You okay Scully?”

I fully expect to hear the usual verbal fallback from her in response to my question and I’m totally unprepared when she simply shakes her head slightly and presses her lips together in a tight thin line – in fact if I didn’t know her better I would swear she is trying not to cry. And I’m mystified because as far as I can see, our night has been pretty successful at least inasmuch as we actually managed to close a case with some kind of positive resolution for all concerned. The rain stopped, order was restored, the good guy finally got his gal and no one died; all in all I that’s a pretty damn fine result for us.

It’s clear though that my partner isn’t sharing my sense of fulfilment. So I try a different tack.

“So how about Holman and Sheila huh?”

Nothing. Nada. Zip.

“Scully?”

She sighs beside me.

“What do you want me to say Mulder? That I’m pleased for them? I am.”

There is something in the way she says it that should set alarm bells ringing but for the life of me I can’t quite figure this thing out and instead of doing the smart thing and letting it lie, I go right ahead in to dangerous territory.

“You don’t sound very pleased...”

“Leave it Mulder. I’m tired okay?”

And there it is.

The perfect opportunity to just back right off and ignore the way her voice has changed tone slightly and which is now heading from quietly resigned to mightily pissed at roughly the speed of sound and I’ve learned enough harsh lessons in the past where this woman is concerned to know that it would be advisable right about now to just allow her to wallow in whatever it is she is currently wallowing in and keep driving.

But high IQs and eidetic memories don’t necessarily go hand in hand with doing the smart thing. So instead I pull the car over to the side of the road and switch on the hazards.

“Scully?”

Her name is barely formed on my lips before she rounds on me, twisting her body against the constraints of the seatbelt as she finally looks directly at me, her eyes liquid blue; dark and dangerous in the half light that filters in to the car’s interior from the streetlamps outside.

“You don’t get it do you Mulder? You just don’t fucking get it.”

I open my mouth to respond but find there is just nothing there, because clearly she is right. I don’t get it.

Whatever the fuck ‘it’ is.

So I just stay silent, hoping for at least another verbal cue from her so I might make sense of what it is about this night that has upset her so much.

I don’t have to wait long.

“I’m envious if you must know. In fact I’m jealous okay? Because just for once I would like someone to look at me the same way he looked at her; like she was the sun, moon and stars and that nothing else existed in the world except her. I want someone to one day hold me like he held her; like he was holding the fucking universe in his arms and that she was the answer to every question he had ever asked...”

She trails off suddenly and whether she is aware of it or not, a single tear begins to track its way down her cheek as she smiles sadly at me.

“I wanted to dance Mulder. For a few minutes I wanted to feel like every other woman deserves to feel even just for once in her life; I wanted to dance with you and just.........shit, I don’t know....just forget it okay? It’s stupid”

And she looks away, swiping angrily at that single tear, instantly embarrassed by her admission which is probably heightened by my reaction. Because right now I am just sat staring at her stupidly and I’m pretty sure that my face is registering an equal combination of shock and disbelief at this sudden outpouring from her. My partner of six long years who, if only she knew it, was already way up there with the sun, moon and stars and had been for longer than I care to remember and who makes the universe pale into insignificance every time I see her there beside me, as I marvel again and again that despite everything she is still with me.

And I want to reach out to her, to find the words to make her understand, but what I actually manage is about as insipid a response as I could possibly make in the face of her desperate words.

“We did dance” I manage weakly and immediately wish I hadn’t when I see the disappointment and hurt flare briefly in her eyes. Because she has just opened her emotions to me in a way she never has before, laid herself bare and vulnerable and that’s all I could come up with?

I don’t deserve her.

I don’t really think I ever have.

Because I’m an asshole.

“We swayed Mulder. Swaying isn’t dancing; and it wasn’t even face to face swaying. It was sideways swaying.”

And her tone just about rips my heart from my chest. Because I don’t know what to do to make this better for her; have no fucking idea how to respond to her as frankly, it’s a side to her I’ve never seen before. I know she loves me of course; I’m as certain of that as I have ever been about anything in my life, and she must know by now I love her too – that she is my everything and that without her my life is just a deep, dark, fathomless void.

I mean surely she knows that......right?

So why didn’t I ask her to dance tonight? I mean, it’s not like the opportunity presents itself too often in our line of work, and most especially there is rarely cause for me to really touch her for reasons other than when the hurt and the pain and the emotional need within us both boils over. I can’t count the amount of times I have held her to give comfort – to her, to me, to us both – but allowing myself to embrace her just because I want to?

Nope. Never happens.

I think sometimes I am afraid to touch her; afraid that if I’m not anchored by the safety of our shared distress that touching her will make me feel something I’m not sure she is either ready or willing to reciprocate and the mere thought of her denying me, of pushing me away, of reminding me of the professional boundaries she holds against her like a protective force.....well, suffice to say it’s not a place I ever want to find myself in with her. We’ve gone through far too much for me to fuck it all up now with my slightly clumsy advances and sometimes it seems like I have a hundred checks and balances in place just to protect me from her. It’s one of the reasons I rarely drink when I’m around her now because I think my desire for her bubbles so close to the surface that it would take very little for me to push aside my inhibitions and simply tell her how I feel.

And that’s why I’m so confused now about her admission to me, because we both have unspoken lines that we never cross, drawn so very long ago and never really fading even when we want them to, because God knows I want to be with her but I’m Fox Mulder and my whole life has been pretty much about denying myself. So why should this be any different?

But right now she is hurting and every instinct I have is screaming at me to somehow take that hurt away. If that means stepping over the fucking lines then so be it; because she has hurt enough over the last couple of years to last several lifetimes and she deserves better than this.

Maybe we both do.

I risk a quick glance at her profile, inwardly wincing at the tension that is all too obvious by the way her jaw is clenched, the slight spasm as muscle twitches against bone and it takes everything I have not to just reach out to her and stroke my fingertips across her skin. But this is neither the time nor the place, so instead I simply key the ignition and navigate the car back onto the flooded road.

XXXXXXXXX

We finally reached the motel without a single word being exchanged between us. Scully had totally closed herself off from me – whether she is still pissed at me or because she is angry at herself for allowing a chink to open up in her defensive armour I’m not sure – but the end result is the same and I know her well enough by now to have the sense to just allow her to do what she needs to do.

Right now that means she needs to create some space between us so that she can lick her wounds and attempt to re-group herself in some way so that she can close the gap that has inexplicably widened between us; it’s a tried and tested method, one we have both employed a hundred times, a thousand times in the years since our partnership began but sometimes, just sometimes, I find myself wondering what would happen if we didn’t always find a way to retreat from each other. I know full well that it is dangerous to think like that but I’m just so sick and tired of denying to myself and to her just exactly what she means to me.

I waited until she was in the bathtub – her place of escape in the absence of an actual room of her own – before I slipped quietly out of the door and headed to the motel’s reception where I had spotted a rather elderly looking cassette player when we checked in a couple of days ago and although I had hoped that I could persuade the rather surly manager to lend it to me based solely on my charm offensive, she actually swiftly divested me of fifty big ones with the singular ease of a backstreet hustler. Ten bucks for ‘rental’ and the other forty as security lest I decide to turn feral and heft it out the window; and it didn’t even occur to me to argue with her, because this is for Scully and frankly I would have removed the shirt off my back and handed it over without a murmur if that’s what it had taken.

And now, back in the room I wait until I hear the sound of the water draining away before I depress the ‘play’ button, smiling because suddenly there is music where before there was silence. I have no real way of knowing how she will react, but even if this goes horribly wrong, it can’t be any worse than what we had an hour ago and at least she will know that I listened to her; that I tried. Because truthfully, I think I don’t try hard enough where she is concerned and more than anything I want that to change – for her to know that she is important and valued more than I value anything else in my life.

The look on her face when she walks out of the small bathroom is priceless, not least because I hadn’t really considered the music choice might not be quite the most appropriate and that Phil Collins warbling that we share a groovy kind of love is maybe not quite the message I was hoping to convey but I’m a little rusty at this kind of shit and I think it’s fair to say that I didn’t have the luxury of forward planning.

But it’s done now, the choice is made, the stage is set and if I can only force a few words out of my mouth then everything will be just peachy.

Of course I find myself totally unable to string together anything even remotely coherent at this point so it’s probably a good thing that Scully, on occasion, seems to have the singular ability to read my mind and work her way through the tangled web that makes up my thought process because even as she quirks her eyebrow questioningly in my direction, she can’t quite keep the smirk from tugging at the corners of her mouth.

She is wearing a pair of shapeless flannel pyjamas that are about three sizes too big, her hair is slightly damp and curling messily around her face and as she stands there in the doorway listening to Phil do his thing, the smirk suddenly morphs into a full-on Scully grin that lights up her whole face and almost sends me stumbling backwards onto my ass because she is beautiful.

Christ she is beautiful. How did I never truly see her before now?

So I step towards her, finding her eyes and locking my gaze with hers, conscious suddenly that something is shifting between us, that this is no longer just about making her happy or about playing our finely honed game and in fact, I am ready to acknowledge a truth between us that we have denied for too many years.

I reach out and take her hand in mine, pulling her gently towards me so that she is nestled against my chest, the delicious feeling of her arms snaking around my waist, small fingers softly kneading my skin like a cat as I drop my chin to rest lightly on the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her as finally, finally, we begin to dance.

End

#small considerations my fic season 6 rain king series wip

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clearlybeardedcheckplease · 8 years

Text

NurseyDex Friendship

Ok, I love these two as mushy saps but that’s unrealistic, so what’s the part of their relationship outside of fighting, roasts, and lovey dovey gross shit.

It starts when Nursey goes stiff in one of the classes they take. At this point they still don’t really get along, but Dex can’t fight someone who won’t fight back, and someone so collected as Nursey being thrown off, it’s bad

So Dex switches seats with the LAX bro next to him in exchange for a slice of pie, since people are defensive over their seats.

Nursey notices, and as soon as Chad leaves, Dex immediately is like, “What The Literal Fuck Happened and Do I Need To Fight Someone.”

Nursey is actually alright it’s just that he’s bad at the subject and he gets ye olde Anxiety so Dex is like, I will mcfucking tutor you I just can’t take you acting like this please let me help

Nursey is reluctant because he isn’t one for being helped, but he’d like to stay on the team, and Dex is pretty smart in his own right, not to mention he has an insane work ethic.

So then they start to tutor each other for varying subjects, not without chirping, but now Dex can roast Nursey without the guilt of him being unokay

So moving foward from mutual respect and stuff, the tutoring is what brings them down a bit from arguing to friendly anger/ roasts/ arguments. It’s also how they become casual, asking about each other’s day

But they’re still not friends, so how?

Well Chowder is still a mutual friend they love, and he’s such a good guy, and so energetic,but sometimes people who are so outgoing can be too much for others and in comes Under Cover Chowder Defense League so like, this is where they start casually texting outside of important shit, this includes a pie blacklist if they overhear any shit being talked, roasts of any new blacklist member, and just sharing their mutual love of Chowder this could totally be the start of polyfrogs getting together

The UCCDL becomes a group chat with Bitty, half the volleyball team, and Tango

But sometimes they’d just bitch about people when this first became a thing and the league chat is not the place, so this where they start to be casual friends, great when together, and they def talk, but don’t necessarily seek each other out

So again more how

The answer, Haus Game Night, all d man pairs and liney pairs must be a team. Ollie and Wicks are drift compatible ass kickers at Mario Party

Ransom and Holster will kick your ass at Mario Kart

Bitty and Jack run a mean just dance duo

Chowder and Lardo pair together since they have no one to latch on to, and well, board games are banned, but cards aren’t. yet. Don’t challenge their card game skills

And nursey and dex literally must compete the fuck together, so their new goal, FUCK UP EVERYONE. Which would be hard, if they both weren’t dirty players, which they are

They end up being great at kareoke, and lip sync battles, since Nursey is artsy fartsy, but Dex has EMOTION (Carly Rae Jepsen 2015), so they work well together

Holster stops Ransom to be like, bro why can’t we sing like that to each other. Why don’t you sing with me?

Ransom probs said, Bro if I sing with you then I don’t get to focus on your beautiful voice.

During Haus Game Night they get to be strong casual friends, so how do we hit BFF Mode

It’s summer and Nursey doesn’t really feel like hanging out with old friends, so he sometimes drives to Buffalo to see Holster(They are friends and he canonically respects Holtzy ok)

But halfway through summer Holster leaves for The Falls to be with the bro of his life Ransom

And Holster is just like, go see Dex why not, and so He and Dex coordinate a way to hang out

Dex is Near Like Eddington (Shout Out, You know who you are)

The Halfway point that I was given was Andover. And I’m sorry but um, WTF my laptop knew ok

So yea, Andover becomes their Niagara Falls.

Which is hilarious because at one point Shitty is like, you don’t know what those assholes were like sweet sweet Dexy

To which him and Nursey chuckle

When they get back they connect even better on ice, and Holster feels so goddamn proud

Unfortunately now if Nursey is about to get checked REAL hard and Dx is close enough he will literally take it. He is practising with Bitty to get faster because he will help keep pucks away from Chowder, and people off of Nursey so help him

Nursey gets really good at knowing when he’s about to get checked and also starts to try to one up his speed so he can show Dex he can get himself out of the way in time, seriously STOP IT

But he’s touched, on the inside

They balance each other, when Dex needs to chill, when Nursey needs to FEEL,

When Dex needs to dream more, and Nursey needs to pull his head out of his ass.

When they both need to check each other’s privilege.

Nursey who has learned to be tactful and careful and cautious, and Dex who cuts to the chase.

Dex who gives in actions and time like it’s nothing, and Nursey who gives physical affection and random small gifts, who doesn’t share his heartfelt poetry lightly but shares with Dex

They share childhood movies, and stories, Dex will send Nursey photos of things he’s fixed or built when he’s proud, Nursey sends pics of his poetry, albeit it’s hard to read since Nursey totes writes small guys

The two roast each other’s music taste, but will always have the other dj for them

During family weekend Nursey’s parents can’t come down because they need to be in town waiting for a client to get in, so he’s just going to go

But then Dex’s family can’t come, so Nursey takes Dex home to cheer him up to keep him company in case his moms are way busier than they said since that always happens

No one says anything about it when they get back because they know it bummed Dex and Nursey out, and really this is good for them

But Dex loved Nursey’s moms, and loved New York, and Nursey really loved showing him all the things he never got to show anyone else, not the kids at Andover, not the prep school kids he was with before that, not even the rest of the team, not even girlfriends or boyfriends. Nursey has never had a chance to bring people into his home, into his life so fully, to have them help him, and know when he’s upset, and know his coffee order

Nursey starts the Dex poetry at this point, but it really is platonic

Also yes, fanon change, Dex meets Nursey’s family first

After Hausgiving when everyone goes home for actual Thanksgiving Nursey’s moms are out of town, so Dex takes him home

The Poindexters love Nursey. Dex canonically has one brother, but ALL the nearby family comes by, regardless of how extended it is. Everyone brings in spouses or BFFs or just friends without a home to go to, it’s super normal.

Nursey and Dex become each others best friends, by senior year they are Ransom and Holster level. They show Hockey Shit to people, but they have their own shit Bylaws and Crap.

Best Friend Sundaes come back, but they are a three way between Chowder, Nursey, and Dex

So really, if you ship NurseyDex and stuff, this kind of leads up to it, so really it’s not unsurprising/ borderline concerning. They can still argue, and roast and chirp, but there has to be something to take the true bite out of their words so they can really love in a healthy manner, the crushing could start earlier in the timeline and all, but like love is also friendship, and most fics don’t focus on them being friends, now I love them being in love, but I’m selfish and want both so here, both.

#nurseydex #derek malik nurse #Nursey #william poindexter #OMGCP #omgcheck please #Check please #please i spent so much time on this

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commentaryonhowwelive · 4 years

Text

February, 2014. Age 21. Alone.

“I worked with him for a year and a half. I lived here at the lodge before I could close on my house here in Hangtop so I got to know him pretty well. After his girlfriend left him he needed someone to give him a hand cleaning rooms and running the front desk. He was lonely as shit. Not the kind of loneliness that you get when you eat lunch in a cafe by yourself or when you don’t have anyone to hang with on a Saturday afternoon. This place has a strangling loneliness that’s hard to shake at night. You have to keep yourself happy, because there’s no one else to do it for you. At first it’s not that bad, the peacefulness is welcomed. But then months start passing, winter comes. It becomes all encompassing.”

I paused for a moment then walked around from the front desk, “Follow me.” Steps and Shalah gave each other a mimicked, slightly quizzical look and followed me a few steps out the front door into the bitter cold. The moon provided a not-so-generous helping of dim light which the snow that blanketed every horizontal surface as far as the eye could see reflected as best it could. The snow cooled the wind to such a frigid temperature it felt like it was blowing straight through my body, chilling me to my bones. I stood there looking out into the darkness, hands in my coat-pockets, the wind blowing my blonde hair straight back. My eyes were slightly squinted, then I turned to Steps and Shalah, opening my eyes hyperbolically wide.

“You guys hear that?”

“The sound of the mountains. They’re calling. They’re crying.” Steps said with her eyes closed.

I rolled my giant eyeballs and responded, “No. I’m talking about the sound of nothing. Nothin’ but the wind,” I began yelling as I spoke, “THERE’S NO ONE HERE! I CAN YELL ANYTHING I WANT AND NO ONE WILL HEAR ME! FUCK SHIT CUNT! MOTHER FUUUCKERRRRR!” I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I felt a small rush of a new emotion I had recently begun to feel for the first time in my life, of inner primordial freedom. It wasn’t necessarily good or bad, just something new.

I looked at them and smiled, lowering my voice. “You know why I don’t care about anyone hearing me?”, I screamed again, “BECAUSE THERE’S NO ONE FUCKING HERE!”

I looked at them again and smiled, “Ok, it’s cold. Let’s go back inside. I just wanted to make a point”.

I was pretty sure at this point that these guys staying at the lodge couldn’t decide whether they liked me or if I was a total weirdo. We returned to the warmth of the dingy little office and shut the door behind us, creating had an eery silencing effect on the howling wind outside.

“So yeah...” I continued as I leaned up against the desk, “...the mountains have a weird allure. They attract people who are looking for solitude. Somewhere to run away to. People come here wanting isolation, but often it ends up being too much. Sometimes all you need is one person, ya know? One person to make happy, one person to put all of your love in to. That’s all Richard needed. When he had his girlfriend, it didn’t matter if there was no one around for 100 miles. He had what he needed. But when she left...dude...his happiness left with her. When you live near your friends and family, or even just in an area with other people around for that matter, a break up doesn’t have that kind of intense effect on you. You have your people to fall back on, new girls to date, things to occupy your mind.”

I stopped speaking for a second, gathering my thoughts, and continued, “The problem was that he was missing a critical part of the human experience. He was alone. All alone. It’s like he lost his ability to experience deep connections with people. He shut down, tuned out, and withdrew. The only people he associated with were people hopped up on all sorts of hard drugs, which are plentiful here.”

“So he ended up just killing himself because of loneliness?” Shalah interrupted.

“Well...” I made a wincing face and bobbed my head side to side, “...not quite. You see, there are so many goddamn transients blowing through this area. There’s a big hippie culture of homeless people who call themselves the Rainbows. They claim that they’re all about living off of the land, bartering, trading with whatever type of currency they can muster up, and loving all creatures equally. They talk people like Richard into giving them a place to stay in return for..” I put little air quotations and said with great sarcasm in a voice mimicking the most brain-dead of transients, “...doin a lil’ bit of work around here”.

“That sounds like such a great way to do things though!” Steps chimed in, “It sounds so freeing. That’s the way that things were done for so long, I feel like they’d be so in tune with nature and each other.”

“It’s all fuckin’ bullshit.” I replied in a cold tone, cutting her off.

Shalah laughed and I continued, better understanding these sibling’s relationship,

“It sounds like all dandelions and unicorns, but there’s a reason the locals call them Drainbows. They creep into town and steal from local businesses because they’re hungry and poor, then they turn around and use the little money they do have to buy drugs to get fucked up in the forest. Some of them just stick to weed and hard liquor, but some of them get hopped up on speed and it leads to stabbings, sometimes in the forest right here behind the lodge.”

“Are they around now?” Shalah asked.

“The Drainbows?”

“Yeah”

“No, it’s too cold now. They’d die. They all go to Cali for the winter.”

Shalah stopped my story temporarily to tell me that he had found a guy sleeping in the event center earlier that morning.

“Yeah, that’s a problem we have in the winter; homeless people sleeping up there. The lock doesn’t work, even though it turns and looks like it’s locked,” I laughed, “What were you doing up there anyways?”

“Exploring, sorry if I wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Oh no dude that’s cool. I actually need to head up there soon. I need to do some cleaning and I forgot some, uh, candy.”

Shalah’s eyes widened like he had done something wrong, but I continued.

“So yeah, the drainbows. There was this one hippie couple, I just called them Pink and Blue because they had their hair dyed, well, pink and blue. Their names were actually Deja and Michael, but their names were Pink and Blue as far as I was concerned. I was down in Boulder one night running some errands for the lodge with Richard and I got a call from some California number, I had to leave my number on the office door since Richard didn’t pay his cell phone bill. Typical Richard. Anyways, it was this hippie couple complaining how they were really cold, had no money, needed a place to stay, and they were standing outside the office door. I told them to kindly take a hike and hung up. But damn, Richard had a heart of gold. He asked me who it was and I told him. He demanded my phone and called them right back, telling them that we’d be back in an hour or so and that he’d put them up for the night.”

I let a quick rush of air out of my nose in a half laugh. “That was such a terrible decision, but hey, what was new with Richard, right? Sure enough, when we got back, there were these two raggedy ass kids with dirty ripped up clothes about my age with their pit bull wrapped in a goddamn potato sack and two cats, each of them with one on their shoulders. They looked straight up like a couple of 1950’s cartoon hobos. There they were standing next to the locked office door, under the only artificial light for miles. How they even found the place I have no idea. They were probably hitch hiking and whoever was driving them just dropped ‘em off wherever he could leave ‘em. Sure enough, Richard gave them the key to Room 7 and said he’d talk to them the next day about work. They were so thankful, so grateful. I wish I could say I could see right through their façade of thank you’s at the time, but they were so sincere, and seeing them in person like that made me actually feel like we might’ve been doing the right thing.”

Shalah spoke up, “It’s a human instinct to want to help each other out, man. Seems like Richard was just more eager than you. I mean, not to say that you’re a cold hearted person or anything, but, I mean..” He tried to dig himself out of the awkward situation of questioning my character, but I cut him off. I knew I was a cold hearted bastard. One winter in Hangtop was all it took.

“Dude, you’re right. Frankly, I didn’t give a shit about these transients and I still don’t, but Richard did. Simple enough.” I stopped talking, getting lost in realizing my own shittiness.

Steps broke the silence, “So what ended up happening with them?” she asked in a concerned voice.

“These guys stayed and worked for the first few days and it looked like they might’ve been a real nice couple of kids, living the true Rainbow lifestyle like it’s meant to be. They were doing all the shit jobs that Richard and I kept putting off. They hauled all the dead logs from the side of the mountain to the road, they replaced the toilet in Room 12. But there’s a reason that these kids were in the position they were. They stopped working soon enough.”

Steps had a look of defeat on her face like she was really cheering for these dumb hippies, so I continued to disappoint her. I kind of enjoyed it since she looked like one of them anyways, just a little bit cleaner, like she’s showered in the past week.

“I remember one day I came over to work and Pink and Blue were supposed to help me grout the tiles in all the bathrooms. I went into the office where they said they’d be ready at 8 A.M., but it was empty. I went into Richard’s apartment”, I said pointing to the door connecting the office to his apartment, “and he was sitting on his couch with his cat. They were both watching the weather channel which he seemed to watch borderline obsessively. I asked him where those assholes were and he just shrugged his shoulders absentmindedly without taking his eyes off that old shitty tv. So I took matters into my own hands and knocked on the door of Room 7, where they had been staying for the past week. No answer. I stood there for about 30 seconds and knocked on the door again, still no fuckin’ answer. I immediately thought “these lazy fucks.” and was tempted to get the key from the office and just go in and wake their asses up the hard way, but I relented and just started doing the work myself. A few hours later, I heard car doors slamming in the parking lot and I saw them mozying out and waving at some dude who I guess had just given them a ride. I asked them where the fuck they’d been and they said (I did my over the top hippie impression again) ‘oh hey man, sorry! We were just down at Nikki’s for a morning session and got caught up. Let’s get it done!’. Nikki’s is the pot shop in town.”

“Nikki’s Nook?” Steps asked. “Isn’t that the cute little bottle shop in town?”

“That’s their front. It’s a pot shop. Just go in and ask for their menu, they sell bud for $10 a gram, which is halfway decent for getting it from a reputable source like them.. But I didn’t want a couple of stoned losers helping me, I didn’t want them f-.. sorry I’ve been swearing a lot. Screwing up the grouting, so I just told them I’d do it myself and they didn’t give a fuck, er..goddamnit... I mean, they didn’t care at all. And so went the next few weeks. They lived here at the lodge and lazed around and lived off of Richard.

“Why didn’t you guys kick them out?” Shalah asked hopping up onto the table covered with tourist pamphlets.

“Dude you have no idea. I tried so hard to get Richard to get them to leave, but like I said, he was lonely. So damn lonely. I provided a little bit of social interaction for him, but I was only there maybe 20 or so hours a week working. He wanted people around so badly, and Pink and Blue are people, dirty hippies or not.”

Every time I referred to hippies in a derogatory manner, I could tell that Steps felt a little offended and showed it. I could also see that Shalah noticed, but didn’t care. I continued on..

“I wouldn’t have cared if they stuck around if they were clean and fed themselves, but they didn’t. They made a disgusting mess out of their room, burned through Richard’s paycheck every two weeks by eating his food, drinking his booze, and buying weed with the money he lent them.”

Then I started remembering them in a slightly better light, “Honestly though they were a nice couple of kids, I can’t deny that. They were polite in every day interactions and were funny as hell. I swear, I’ve never met a homeless person who couldn’t have made it as a comedian.”

I dove into one of the few good memories I had with them,

“I remember this one time, it was me, Richard, Pink, Blue, and my dog Rachel. Rachel was probably the cleanest and smelled the nicest out of all of them. We all went down to Home Depot together in my old Suburban to pick up with sheets of plywood to redo the floors in a few of the rooms. We had little lanterns hanging up in the car and it had bad brakes at the time so it squealed like a pig getting slaughtered at the slightest bit of pressure. Richard had a full fledged winter beard going on that looked like Helen Keller had shaved off Shrek’s pubes and hot glued them all over his face. He wore a giant goofy beanie that looked like an ugly Christmas sweater that one of the guests left behind, and he was wearing his dirty-ass torn-up sweat pants he had used for painting the day before. Pink and Blue were looking...well...like Pink and Blue usually looked. Rachel had this stupid neon green Warheads bandanna on that I got for free at a music festival. Not to mention they all smelled like they never showered, probably because they never showered. When we rolled up to Home Depot, I realized that we were probably the most ragtag lookin’ group of motherfuckers that had ever disgraced Boulder.”

“And Boulder is filled with damn weirdies,” Shalah said in a 1950’s old man southern draw.

We laughed together and I kept rambling, “I realized how fuckin’ stupid we must’ve looked. Three scraggly homeless lookin’ people, a dog with a bandanna and a rope around her neck since we forgot her leash, and me. I just gave up on trying to uphold my reputation for a bit and had fun with them. We ended up joking the whole way home about starting a gay fraternity called Gamma Alpha Psy, which would look like GAY when spelled out with Greek lettering, and how the socials would just be a bunch of super gay dudes falling over each other from apple martini after apple martini.”

I talked with a limp hand, a lisp, and stumbled around while recalling Blue’s impressions, “Blue would be like ‘Jezuzzz Chrizzzz, these Apple Martini’s have got me so drunk, I might just go home with ANYbody tonight!’”

We bursted into laughter while Steps didn’t look very amused.

“Aw yeah.. good times. Too bad these kids were total pieces of shit.”

The tone took a serious turn as I switched back to bashing them, “I told Richard to kick those guys out so many times, but he never did. I guess for him, having someone around all the time, no matter how terrible of influences they were, was worth him having all his money blown and never getting any work done. Eventually, this other guy showed up, his name was Ian or something.”

I shook my head upon remembering Ian, “I won’t go too much into this guy, but he was just...weird. I could never quite put my finger on it, but there was something just....off. He was about my age, clean shaven, dressed nicely, and carried a Jansport backpack that was stuffed to the rafters with God knows what. He showed up looking for a job one day. I told him we were fine and didn’t need any help, but of course Richard started shooting the shit with him. I walked out of the office to clean a few rooms and saw his ride sitting in the parking lot, car still running. I came out an hour or so later to see the car gone, but when I walked into Richard’s apartment, they were sitting on the couch playing guitar. Thus began this guy’s era. He joined Richard, Pink, and Blue’s little hippie clan. He would try to sell me his food stamps and gave me seductive looks when we were all hanging around in Richard’s apartment at night. Luckily, this guy was rather short lived since the cops came and picked him after about a week or so of crashing in Room 12.”

Steps’ and Shalah’s eyes perked open a bit.

“The cops picked him up? Was he like, wanted?” Shalah asked with a sparked interest that I could tell had started to dull.

“No idea man, no idea. We all went up to the grow house on the hill one afternoon to hang with someone who Richard said he was friends with and supposedly wanted to play music with us. No one answered the door but they let their Pit Bulls out. It scared the shit out of me, but I’m pretty sure that every transient hippie is a Pit whisperer, because they just walked right up to these snarling dogs and started playing with them. After they had their fun with the dogs, I’m sure to the dismay of whoever let them out to sick us, we casually walked back down the hill to the lodge parking lot to find three cop cars. Richard and I were walking ahead and were approached by one of the town cops asking if we knew where Ian was. We were both as confused as the other, but we said yeah and that he was with us. A minute or so later, Pink, Blue, and Ian walked down and two more cops assisted the cop that had talked to us as they swarmed Ian. I’ll never forget the look on that kid’s face when all the cops swarmed him. So....un-phased. Like a cow in a field when a buzzing swarm of flies invades her personal space. He didn’t try to run, he didn’t try to protest, he just talked to them like I talk to my brother at the dinner table. Soon he was in the back of the cop car, and the cops were interviewing Richard about what he knew about this kid. When Richard came back to the office where Pink and Blue and I were waiting for him, I saw the cop cars driving away, Ian in tow. We asked him what the fuck just happened. Richard told us how Ian was living in a group home and he said that they said they ‘just needed to check up on him and make sure he was alright and taking his meds’.”

Shalah made a face of disbelief, “Three cop cars to pick up a kid who just needed to be checked in on? That doesn’t sound right to me.”

“It didn’t to me either, I knew there was something seriously up with that kid, but I never found out what. Apparently the cops said that he’d be back soon after he checked in with his group home down in Boulder and the hippie brigade all seemed content with that answer. He never showed up again, I never saw him again, and they all just brushed it off with the occasional ‘Hm, I wonder what ever happened to Ian, he was such a nice guy,’ It baffled me. I would say to them ‘Guys, there’s a reason three fuckin’ cops picked him up. He must have been involved in some serious shit,’ But they’d be like ‘No wayyyy man! He was too cool. They just needed to check in on him,’ You guys get the point.”

“So how did all this lead to Richard, um.”

“Killing himself? Wow sorry, once I get started on these stories I get carried away.” I replied as I walked around the counter to the computer desk and leaned back with my hands behind my head. “You guys get the point. The transients aren’t the best bunch to hang with, but for Richard, that was all he had. He wasn’t really able to leave since he was the only person working besides me. When you have a basic human need taken from you, like socialization, you do anything you can to get it back. He had what he had and ran with it. It all led up to Viki and Polly.”

I shook with disgust and continued. “Don’t ever stick your dick in crazy. Richard could’ve taken that to heart. Hanging out with these loser homeless fucks was one thing, but when he began sleeping around with them, that’s when things got real bad. I remember one day he started telling me about this older girl. Her name was Viki, and he kept telling me how he couldn’t wait for me to meet her and how good looking she was. She wasn’t really homeless, but she hung out with all these hippie shits and lived off and on with her mom in a little cabin over in the town of Eldora.”

“There’s a town too?” Shalah asked, only apparently knowing about the ski resort by the same name.

“Yeah if you keep going past the turn off to the resort, there’s a little tiny town. No amenities, just houses and little cabins. Viki lived there, she probably still does. She was bad fucking news. She had me bring her to her friend’s house to, (putting air quotes) pick up her cell phone. Whelp, that was a lie, which I learned a few months later after Richard and her broke up. Turns out I was assisting in a meth run. She was meth head number one.”

“Number one?! How many meth heads were there?” Steps asked.

“Eh, only her and Polly. But that’s two meth heads too many. When Richard started dating Viki, that was when things got truly bad for that guy. She told me she was on probation for turning in fake W-4’s to get tax returns, so I drove her down to the City of Boulder Judicial Building for her probation hearings a few times because I thought she had just screwed up and needed a helping hand. That taught me to trust someone like that. Turns out she was a total junkie, almost always had needles on her. She pulled Richard into that shit so hard and so fast it was like a whirlwind. Once they started seeing each other, I’d go days without getting a call to come in and work, so I’d call and ask if he needed help and he’d reply with a short ‘nope, all good here with me and Viki!’ They were just turning guests away then going back to the apartment and doing meth.”

I said pointing into his old apartment, where nobody was living now. “When I took over as the lodge manager, the owner offered me to live in the apartment but I don’t dare go in there after the shit that went down in there, for my mental and physical health. Eventually Viki left after some big fight in front of a bunch of people eating at the restaurant next door. Yelling some bullshit about how he fucks his cat and throwing shit around. It was a mess.”

Shalah spoke up skeptically, “What I don’t understand is how he got away with all this. Where was the owner? And why didn’t he just hang out with the people at the restaurant?”

“The owner is some old big shot who doesn’t give a shit about the lodge. He lives in Denver and owns more property than he knows what to do with. As long as the year end profits come in, he doesn’t give a shit what goes on around here. If worst comes to worst, he sells this place and makes a little profit. No sweat off his back. And for the restaurant, Richard hates them.”

Steps broke in, “But they’re so nice at the cafe! Heidi, I think that’s her name? The owner? Me and her had a great time the other night talking until it must’ve been midnight.”

“She hated Richard. They were like enemies and I never quite got it. Richard would tell me that Heidi hated him because he stole his girlfriend from them since they all used to be friends, but then she only hung out with Richard when they started dating. But then again, Heidi is well versed in all of his drunken and drug fueled calamities, so I try my best to stay out of all of it. They hated each other and Richard refused to go in there, and that’s all I knew for certain. Where was I...”

I glanced at my watch and realized how late it was. “Dang, almost time for me to close the office. I’ll finish up quick. Anyways, long story short, Viki got him into hard drugs then left. He finally confessed to me about everything: that drug run I took her on, the drugs they were doing, etcetera etcetera. A few weeks after him and Viki broke up, we were in Boulder on running errands as usual and he called Viki against my advice to ask her what some restaurant was that they had talked about before. She apparently was hopped up on drugs at the time and started yelling at him over the phone about how she just found out that she was HIV positive and...Jesus, this chilled me to the bone man. I remember hearing her shrieking voice through his phone say ‘Haha! You have AIDS now!’”

The siblings looked visibly concerned and what I said next only made it worse. “That was terrifying. I told him he needed to get checked ASAP, and you know what he said to me? He said ‘Bro, I’m a Christian. I have the blood of Jesus in me, that kind of thing doesn’t effect me,’”

I shook my head while leaning forward from my previously reclined stature. “The guy was delusional. Then this girl Polly comes around. She was the last straw. She was way into weed and speed oddly enough. I don’t even know how they met, she just kind of...showed up once day. He started dating her and once again, he stopped calling me in to work.”

“This...” I said scratching my head, “Was when it started going downhill so fast my head spun. Late one night, he calls me saying how Polly had gone on a rampage and smashed a window. He said that he had to leave and that I needed to watch the lodge and make sure Polly doesn’t break anything else. I replied that was crossing the line and was not part of my duties as an employee. He said that I had no choice and that he was my boss, so I told him I was done working there. He hung up on me and unbeknownst to me, he called my little brother Levi, telling him the same story. Levi, strapped for cash, took him up on the offer for $50 and headed over to the lodge. I got another call about a half hour after Richard had called me. This time it was Levi. He sounded like he was about to have a panic attack. He just told me to come to the lodge immediately and when I asked him why he said ‘Just please come over. Please just come over. Just come over please.’ Like he was scared to tell me what was wrong. I didn’t even know he was there in the first place. I was absolutely livid with Richard that he’d coaxed my own brother into getting wrapped up in his cluster-fuck.”

“What did Polly do?” Steps asked, genuinely concerned.

“The answer was actually what Polly didn’t do. I got there to see Levi pacing outside the front office door. He saw my car and the look on his face was so relieved, like I came with the antidote for a deadly snake bite. He said that Polly was lying on the floor and wasn’t responding. So I went in and sure enough found Polly laying face down, skirt hiked up over her ass. Richard’s apartment was in the nastiest condition I’d ever seen it. Needles, cigarettes, and booze bottles everywhere. I kneeled down and patted her on the back and said ‘Polly? Polly are you ok?’. No answer. I patted her a bit harder and asked the same thing to no answer. So I carefully leaned in and put my ear next to her mouth and listened for breath. She was breathing normally, so I figured she had just passed out. I walked out and called Richard and asked him why the fuck Polly was lying on the floor. He said that she was just doing it for attention and that I should tell her that I’d call an ambulance if she didn’t get up. So I went back in and told her that I’d call an ambulance, if she didn’t let me know she was ok. She replied with a super muffled ‘imOK..’ without moving a muscle. So I left her alone. I told Levi that he was on his own with this mess and left. It was late by that time, close to midnight. I went home, put my phone on silent, and went to bed. I woke up the next morning around 9:30 A.M. to at least a dozen missed calls from Levi and about as many frantic text messages. Instead of bothering to read the texts or listen to the voicemails, I just got in the car and headed over. I arrived to cop cars in the parking lot and Polly calmly carrying things from the office to around the back of Room 1.”

“It seems like cop cars are a common occurrence at this lodge?” Shalah sarcastically responded.

“Yep. That was the last time the cops were there as far as I know, because that’s when Richard got fired. It was the last straw for Heidi, the restaurant owner, so she called the owner and told him everything. About the cops being there all the time, Viki’s drug fueled break up, the hippies living there free of charge, the list goes on.”

“So who called the cops on Polly? What happened that night?” Steps asked.

“Oh yeah. Ok, so apparently Levi and his buddy Joseph went and stayed in Room 5 that night. He would get calls from Richard every hour or so throughout the night asking him to go knock on the door and tell Polly to leave. So he complied and every time he went and knocked on the door to no answer, he’d try to open it but it was locked. We were locked out of our own business by a strung out drug addict. 5 A.M. rolls around, and Levi goes once again to try to get in. This time, Polly was up, cleaning and vacuuming. She answered the door like a house wife answers the door for her friend at two in the afternoon. Levi told her that Richard was on the phone and wanted to talk to her; she went insane. ‘Hang up. Hang up right now. I’m not talking to him. HANG UP. LEAVE.’ That was enough to spook Levi and he scrammed out of there. That’s when he managed to talk Richard into letting him call the cops to get her out of there. The cops got her out but then had to wait for her to get all of her things out of there, which is why they were still there when I rolled up around 10 A.M. She was out of there for good by 11 or so, and it wasn’t even 20 minutes later when some straggly ass hippie guy came out of the woods telling me that Polly tried to join their little hippie clan in the forest, but she had bad vibes and they didn’t want her around. He said he just wanted me to know that she took off towards town.”

“Even the Rainbows didn’t want her around? She must have been bad news.” Steps replied, frowning.

“She wasn’t wanted anywhere and I actually haven’t seen her since. But yeah anyways, that’s when Richard finally got fired....To be honest, I’m surprised that he lasted as long as his did with all his antics. When he showed up later that day, the owner was there after being called by Heidi and he fired him on the spot.”

“Where did he go? Did he have family around? Friends?”

“He had his group of hippie losers. He also had an entire family of doctors and lawyers back in California, but he couldn’t face them for some reason or another. He stayed here in the rockies. One of his hippie buddies had a rinky-dink shack out in the gambling town 20 minutes west where he stayed for a while. That’s the last time I heard directly from him about his whereabouts. Everything from then on, I learned from his brother in a phone call after he killed himself.”

“Rough...” Shalah said staring blankly at the floor.

“Rough is right. I’ve never had such an intimate conversation with a stranger over the phone in my life. It was such a surreal experience.”

I continued on in a lower, more serious tone, “Apparently after living with the hippies, he moved down to Boulder and lived in a hotel for a while. After that, that’s when things got crazy. He hopped on a flight to Mexico. He settled into some city on the Pacific coast, but called his brother, the guy I talked to on the phone, panicking. After a run in with some criminals and learning that the justice system doesn’t quite work the same down there as they do up here in the states, he begged his brother to fly him back up to Cali. I guess it took his life being in danger before he faced his family, for whatever reason he had. Upon arriving in Cali, Richard’s brother let him move in with him and his family with only one rule: he had to be either looking for a job or have a job. So he did it, he picked up a job really quick at a Marriott as a front desk clerk and was on a fast track to management since he had been a lodge manager. Things were looking up for him, he even signed up to do some medical study where he’d take some medication, stay at a laboratory for a few days, and get paid $2,000. That was around the same time that I heard his voice for the very last time. He called me out of the blue while I was at work one day and started talking to me like we never skipped a beat, even though it had been several months since we had spoken. He enthusiastically telling me about the medical study he was doing, but I told him that I’d call him back after work, which I did, but he didn’t answer. We didn’t speak for a few more months, then I got the call from his brother.”

I stopped talking for a minute, my eyes glued to an arbitrary spot on the wall past both Steps and Shalah. I could tell looking at them that they both wanted closure to the story, but I kind of needed the silence to linger for a minute more. The two of them stood on one side of the wooden counter while I sat on the other side behind it. It only had a few things on it: a stack of business cards, some local trail maps, a framed picture of a bear sitting on a log, and a landline phone. I spoke up after about thirty seconds of silence, which didn’t feel awkward because they knew I needed it.

“I got the call while on a train ride through the mountains. My girlfriend and I had split up a week before that, so when my mom saw me crying a few seats down, she thought it was because of the break up. She gave me a sad face and got up to comfort me. I got so angry. I can’t really describe it. I just said with a raised voice ‘Richard killed himself,’ across the moving train filled with strangers. The look of horror on her face and those around me somehow gave me a feeling of satisfaction, like ‘I hurt so bad right now, that I want all these other people to hurt too. Bad.’

I redirected my blank gaze right into Shalah’s eyes, then to Steps’. They felt it too, I could tell, and once again, I kind of liked it. Just telling them about it spread my feeling of hurt outwards in a masochistic satisfactory way.

“Here in Hangtop while I worked at the lodge, Richard was really my only friend. I was an online student, so I didn’t have too much of a social life. Within the span of about a week, I lost my two best friends that I had over the past two years. All my friends before that, I had sort of fallen away from...goddamn, I was so alone. I’m ok with loneliness, in fact, I enjoy it. But when you’ve had such an intense connection with someone for so long, then they’re just....gone, it leaves a hole inside of you; I could physically feel it. I could literally feel an emptiness inside me and I felt it in everything I did. When you don’t have that connection with anyone to begin with, loneliness can be a joy, a freedom if you will. But fuck, there’s something about connecting with someone then having that connection torn away from you that you can’t quite explain.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what finally led to Richard’s death?” Shalah asked. He looked like he was getting slightly impatient and sleepy.

“Remember that medical study he signed up for? He got denied apparently. This is all coming from his brother now. Apparently he got denied from the study for a reason that he didn’t tell anyone. Soon after that, a few days I think, he no-call no-showed to work for a whole week. They fired him and he left his brother’s house and moved in with his buddy who lived in a high rise loft on the south side of Los Angeles. He stuck around there for a few weeks I guess, just bumming around jobless until he got a call from a private detective in Boulder. Remember how I said he was living in that hotel in Boulder for a while?”

Steps and shalah nodded their heads.

“While he was there, he had sex with a girl who later claimed that he raped her. Whether or not there was any truth to that statement, I have no idea. But the private detective said that he could either turn himself in where he was or come back to Boulder to turn himself in. Those were his two choices. Now I’m getting into speculation here, but I believe that the reason why he was denied from the medical study was that he contracted HIV from Viki. If the girl that he had sex with in the hotel contracted it from him and he knew that he had it, then he could be tried for attempted murder.”

I looked at my watch and laughed, “Sorry I’m the worst when it comes to stories. I look at it this way, if he did have HIV, he had a fatal illness, he was a severe alcoholic, and was facing charges that could eventually lead to him going to jail for life. He would talk to me about some really profound stuff sometimes. He’d talk about how he was 34, and all he wanted to do was help people. He didn’t care anymore about being selfish or taking from the world; all he wanted to do was do things for others. And I saw that in him, he had a heart of gold, just not the best set of decision making skills to go with it. I think that once he considered his life as he knew it to be over, he decided to not bother with it anymore. A few days after getting the call from the private detective, the guy Richard was living with found him passed out on the couch with a huge Coke stain on the carpet and a big mess in the kitchen. This was enough to make him wake Richard up and tell him that he’d put him up in a hotel that night but that he was done letting him bum around his home. Richard woke up disheveled and said that was fine and that he was going out to the balcony to have a smoke. His buddy went back to the bedroom to get ready for work, then when he came back out, Richard wasn’t on the balcony anymore.”

“Did he jump?” Shalah asked.

“He jumped. He jumped from the 8th floor. And that was the end.”

There was another bout of silence as the two of them took in the words that hit them like a brick to the chest, knocking all of the air out of their lungs.

“So yeah...that’s Richard’s story. Fuckin’ shame. Really.. I had some good times with that guy, one of the funniest dudes I’ve ever met. He’d give his last shirt to a man he didn’t know. You just never know what’s lurking underneath a smile.”

“I assume you’ve seen him since?” Steps nervously asked.

“Excuse me?” I replied legitimately confused. Shalah shook his head and looked down in embarrassment. “Goddamnit Steps...” he said under his breath.

“His ghost.” Steps spoke with a slight apprehension in her voice, “Ghosts tend to try to make contact with their past friends and family, they go to places that made a big impact on their life. It seems to me that his time here at the lodge altered his life course drastically. It makes sense that he’d want to come back here for unfinished business, perhaps to make amends with someone, or maybe he wants to do what you said he wanted to do with his life and help people. He could be back with the intention to help more travelers on their way.”

I smiled condescendingly while Shalah shook his head and opened his mouth, “Steps, he doesn’t want to hear about your ghost nonsense. If he believed that shit, don’t you think he’d have mentioned it by now?” He looked to me, “Right?”

“I actually like hearing about it. I don’t believe it, but I enjoy hearing about people’s experiences with him here. This lodge is so old, it used to be used as army barracks in World War II for high altitude training. According to your theory that ghosts haunt places that played a big part in their lives, then I’d imagine that this building would be positively crawling with ghosts; this was the first place that some guys joining the army would be stationed, talk about life altering.”

“Wow! What have you heard about the war ghosts?!” Steps asked with excitement.

“Me? I’ve heard a bit from a few guests. I didn’t even know that this place was used as army barracks until I met an old manager a few months back. She said when she ran this place back in the 70’s when the Vietnam war was going on, people saw soldier ghosts all the time like clockwork. But now? No one even knows that it used to be army barracks. With the knowledge of its history vanishing, so do the relevant ghosts. Coincidence? I think not. The mind is a powerful thing. People claim to see Richard’s ghost here because they know about him and they’re looking for him, the same way it was with the ghost soldiers in the 70’s. The only people that talk about seeing his ghost are the ones that knew him or know of a ghost that’s supposedly here.”

I shook my head again and continued on, “That’s a whole different story though. I’ll just leave it at that. I need to close up shop. I have to be back here at 7:30 in the morning to start cleaning rooms.”

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