#Fargo really said

[penguicorns-are-cool]

on the first season of Fargo and thinking about how if this was from that hitman guy's point of view, this would be your average vigilante action movie

[feline-evil]

Wrench looking at Literally Anything and Anyone: (Rage. Disgust. Trying to kill with his gaze alone.)

Wrench looking at Numbers:

(Well listen. Ok. This is Wrench we're talking about so still some rage and still some killing-gaze but. Softer....Soft....Reserved only for This One Guy. I know it's subtle, he's Mr Wrench. But look, see hims face.)

[oatmilk-vampire]

He's a softie.

[slateston3]

LORRAINE

[darlingor]

Lorne: brutally murders three people in front of Lester*

Lester: in shock*

Lorne: :)

[munsster]

road trip (trope bingo)

A/N: thought i might try this format out. also introducing a new face to my tumblr repertoire. i’ve written marvel before, just never on this site. enjoy!! (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You think Bucky is shallow for rejecting a pretty stranger in North Dakota. Little do you know. 1.6k words

Warnings: fluff, dummies not talking about their feelings, pet names (doll), slight angst but resolved, perhaps mutual pinging, a really good hug, playful bullying, cursing

"Ooh, she's cute."

You've been doing this for over an hour. He's downed at least four coffees by now. And the worst part is you call it finding a suitable mate. But he's just not interested in the women you're scouting for him at a rest stop a few miles out from Fargo, North Dakota. He would've just left, gone and sat in the truck, but he'd feel bad leaving you rambling to yourself when you're the one paying for this meal.

"Come on, Buck, you're no fun," you huff, dropping your spoon into the thick mug now emptied of hot cocoa.

"You're right. Can we go now?" He starts to slide out of his seat when you scoff. He goes still like a deer in headlights. This should be fun.

"James Buchanan, you're telling me none of the lovely ladies in this diner tickle your fancy? Not even third barstool? She's tall, Buck, like... model tall," you suggest with your brows raised.

"I'm not... we're in North Dakota, you think that's what I'm lookin' for?"

"Just one date! You wouldn't take her on one, single date? The little bar across the street seems sensible, why not?"

"Um—"

"Tell meee," you whine, leaning over the sticky, vinyl tablecloth with a pout.

He shrugs. "Not my type."

"Bullshit. She's everybody's type. She's my type, Bucky. Are you blind or just plain stupid?"

"I'm not interested."

You pull a face like you're offended on her behalf. Bucky rolls his eyes and wishes you'd drop it.

"Oh, I get it," you say. Leaned back, arms stretched across the length of the seat, you huff and glare at him. "You think you're too good for her, huh? Just 'cause she's a North Dakota ten, and you're a Brooklyn eight, you think that makes you better, don't you?"

"What? An eight?" he mumbles, shaking his head.

"Ugh, you men gross me out sometimes. Massive egos, teensy little brains," you say, slapping a twenty on the table and standing with a vicious squint. "Well, let me learn you something, James"—you loom over him and poke your pointer finger at his chest—"you're shallow, and you're no better than her. You prob'ly couldn't take her out if you wanted to. Goodnight."

You huff and walk away, but he chuckles and calls after you: "It's noon, doll." Flipping him off, you march out into the parking lot. He considers the woman for a moment. You called him a Brooklyn eight. She's pretty, he'll admit, but he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't interested. Bucky's seen the far stretches of the Earth, which means he's seen women of all forms. Accountants and soldiers from all over, all professions, all languages. All beautiful. But nothing intrigues him quite as much as you do.

...

"Did you ask her out, or are you choosing to remain a coward?" You've got your boots propped on the dashboard, the truck bumbling eighty down the highway. An emery board swipes back and forth at your middle fingernail as you snap your bubblegum.

"Come on, doll, play nice. We're leavin' anyway, didn't want to hurt her feelings," he grumbles.

"Tough. Doesn't make you any less of a pussy, Barnes."

You flick the nail file at his cheek and drop your feet heavily on the hot car mat. You called him a Brooklyn eight. You cringe at the remembrance while Bucky revels in it. He even grinned stupid all the way back to the parking lot. To himself, but still. He hates how deep under his skin you are. He hates how he likes the itch.

His tongue twists with all the things he could have said. He should have said. But he grips the steering wheel tight and drives till you cross the border into Minnesota.

"Wanna go anywhere before Wisconsin? They've got... lakes here," he shyly suggests, voice soft, hoping you'll just ignore him and turn up the radio. He doesn't think you'll ever ignore him, even if he did prefer it.

"Only if I could push you into one of them."

"Listen, kid—"

"Kid? That's great, Bucky. It's getting dark, why don't we just find a motel." You cross your arms. The cold is getting to you. Even in a down jacket and two pairs of pants. It gets like that up north.

He does what you tell him because the last thing he needs is for you to hold another grudge against him. This one's quaint, so he gets the last double available, chuckling nervously when the older woman at the front desk mistakes you for a married couple.

"Sure you don't want a single, honey? Not gettin' any kids outta separate beds—"

"Nope—thanks, miss—that's—double is fine, double's perfect, thanks," he huffs. You chuckle.

She gives a rolling, belly laugh, head tossed back as she croaks, "Won't file any noise complaints against youse! Have a fun night."

"Geez, she was great," you sigh, still smiling from the ridiculous interaction. You flop face down onto the bed closest to the window, rattling the ice from the crevices in your boots. It crunches to the floor and you wriggle out of your coat as Bucky locks himself into the pale yellow bathroom.

He starts mumbling from the other side of the door, so you sit up and toe your boots onto the floor with a thud. Digging your fingertips into the edge of the hastily tucked sheets, you stare at a wine stain in the middle of the beige carpet. At least it smells nice in here. Even if half the lights are out, and cable doesn't come through clear enough to watch.

You find yourself, cheek pressed to the door, eyes wide as you listen through the flimsy wood.

"I don't think so, Steve. No, listen, it's like... beyond repair. She wouldn't take an apology even if I knew what i was sorry for—no—she's way too good for me, I can't do that to her."

Still moping over women found in North Dakota's lowest rated diners? That's highly unlike him. But even Bucky's a wildcard six-thousand miles into a roadtrip. You press closer, chewing your lip and closing your eyes.

"No, no, everything—this stuff's easier for you, pal, you don't get it, 'kay? I'm just saying... I mean, even a stranger thought we were married"—What—"has to mean something, right? Even strangers are realizing... there's something... there. I just don't want to accidentally—no, I know, not like that, I mean...well, I like her a lot and I don't want it to scare her—"

You back up slightly, hands held in front of you like surrender. Not out of fear, but realization. That's why he didn't ask her out. Or even fish for her number. Because—

You hit the floor with a thump.

"Steve. I gotta go."

The door whips open and floods the room with warm light. You scramble to your feet.

"Were you... I was just talking to... Did you hear any of that?"

You shake your head. He shoves his hands into the shallow pockets of his jeans.

"Okay," he says with a nod, "good." He blows hot air out of his mouth and runs a swift hand through his hair. But he doesn't meet your eyes. Like a little kid so terrified of fibbing that he'd rather swim deeper into the abyss than float to the surface. Can't catch his damn breath around here.

"So..."

"Goodnight, Bucky!" you chirp, turning on your heel with a whoosh of air. And he stops you in your tracks, hand on your bicep. You don't turn back around, stuck staring at the foot of your bed.

"Doll," he whispers, roped up by fear and a pinch of self-pity. Attending his own funeral with a sick smile on his face. "Just how much did you hear."

You spin on the balls of your feet, going hot in the face, fueled by the electricity at his fingertips. "A lot."

"Oh."

You nod and try your best non-psychotic smile. "Sorry."

"No, no... don't be," he says, trying his own. So you're just a couple of smirking idiots at a stalemate in a stale motel room. A couple of idiots with feelings for each other. Unresolved feelings. Unspoken, too.

"I actually—could I?" You point behind him into the cramped bathroom, and he lets go of you like it's his last move before you put him in check. Before he has to hand you the game. Though, he'd do that in a heartbeat. Every game of his is yours. "Thanks."

"No problem." He shuts his eyes when you close the door with a calculated tenderness. Like you don't want to frazzle his poor heart.

But then why would you open the door again? Why would you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his back? Why would you make it all so much worse and spread your fingers over his abdomen, taking a deep breath when he runs his hand down your forearm and turns to face you. Then you melt with his strong arms holding you thisclose.

"Like you a lot, too, Barnes. You're just a big dunce a lot of the time. But that's like... half the draw or whatever," you mumble into his shoulder. And you've never been this close, and he thinks he could pass out. Become a chalk outline in a dusty motel in Minnesota. But if it happened like this, he'd be okay with that statistic.

marvel masterlist

[yeyinde]

So I had a thought recently, but I have no one in my life who would understand the machinations of my mind that led me to this thought nor how dearly I cling to it now and for no other reason than I think it would be goddamn fantastic. So hear me out: isolated, lonely, incredibly possessive Lighthouse Keeper John Price x Selkie (not used to being in human body) Reader…

serious question. where have you been all my life?? whatever machinations are going on inside your head are just *chefs kiss*

but also. i love this. i've been itching to do something moody and morose—that sort of midwinter, blue-orange feeling—and i was thinking bearwalker Price or fargo-esque Price but this is IT!!

and maybe selkie!Reader is a bit animal-like when it comes to humans—a wary sort of fear, but a genuine curiosity that brings them closer—and having spent their whole life in the sea (the last of a dying breed)—they're incredibly naïve. they trust him. so when he says "we're married," they just. accept it.

and i'd love for Price to hunt mc in the beginning, too. i can see him standing on the lookout deck of the lighthouse, firing shots at this shape in the water. and maybe that's what makes you wash up on shore. he goes to look at what he shot and he finds you. finds your skin. takes it. hides it.

Price teaches them what it means to be married. lil corruption kink sprinkled in. a whole lotta "you're my wife." they inadvertently feed the monster inside of him, this festering loneliness (sea madness).

i'm so in love with this. i love when humans corrupt the monster because sure, we're altruistic. we saved this poor creature but also. we're possessive and greedy and to Price—he saved you. no one else. him. you owe him something, don't you?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

messy little snapshot of their relationship i whipped up quick is under the cut

"Now you," he prods, and leans back on the chair, knees spread as you wobble around in his lap, getting used to the feeling of having such long, limberous legs. His hands fall to your bare thighs, holding firm as you squirm around. Restless little thing.

"Me?" You echo, blinking at him with wide, wet eyes. That's the only part that really marks you as other in this skin. Glossy, black. Too wide. Too animal. The colour beneath is slowly peaking through the inky murk, bleeding in the longer you stay on land, but it's obvious that you're not human.

His cracked, sea-dried knuckles brush over the curve of your cheek, petting the silken, human skin that you say fits too tight. He thinks it's perfect.

"Yes," he grunts, shifts his weight. "Do what I just did to you. Lemme see if you were payin' attention like you said you were. Wanna be my good little wife, don't you?"

There's a knot between your brows. The innocuous urge to tell him that you don't have a choice when he's holding your skin hostage puddling on the tip of your tongue, but he slides his hands over your flanks, feeling the powder softness of your skin under his fingers, nails catching in a quick grip. A reprimand. It leaves in a huff. A shuddering breath.

You're still getting used to the sensation of hands on your body. Still acclimating to the one you wear—chock full of nerves, a basin of raw, undulled sensation that you don't feel when you're a seal. The pelt a protective armour against it that humans don't have.

A kinder man would have slowed down. Let you get used to the feeling. Maybe even gave you back your skin and let you choose.

But that's not him.

No. He digs the tips of his fingers into the meaty back of your thighs and pulls you closer against his groin. Chest to chest. Nearly face to face if he didn't have a whole head over you.

"C'mon," he urges, belly warming at the way you gasp when your naked core meets the cold metal of his belt. "I'm not a very patient man, love."

Your hamstrings tighten under his palm as you lift yourself up, eyes still wide and wet and unbearably curious as you press your slick, warm mouth to his in a clumsy pastiche of the kiss he gave you moment ago.

You taste of the ocean. Briny. Seafoam. Kelp. He groans a little into your clumsy, almost childish attempt to replicate what he just did to you—slick little tongue brushing over the seam of his mouth, drenching the wry curls that over his lips. It's too wet. Too slick. No finesse.

But his cock throbs in heavy, angry pulses under your ass. Aching already. He groans into it, sliding one hand up the oil-slick skin of your sides until he reaches the delicate slip of your throat. Wrapping a hand around it until he he feels your pulse thunder against his thumb. Pretty thing.

He can't wait to teach you something else you can do with this pretty little mouth, that slippery little tongue—

[rosegoldcas]

I defy anyone who badmouths Fargo S4 to deliver a better product. Give me a show with a first season that’s as new, exciting, and game-changing as Fargo S1, then follow it up with three more seasons that are equally as excellent and unique as the first. I’ll wait.

S4 was great, y’all are just spoiled.

two episodes away from finishing Fargo S4 and all i can say is i am furious at the way the media and people in general dismissed this season, every episode has blown me away and you’re all just absolute fucking little stinkers

[killerboyratzmp3]

hi all. please reblog this

a friend of mine opened up a game shop a little over a year ago, and it has become an important and central community for ttrpg players and board gamers in their city.

while summer was alright financially, winter has hit them really hard, and they may have to close their shop. this shop means a lot to a lot of people, and it's difficult to build a community like this, especially in such a big city.

please consider donating to their gofundme below:

like i said- this means a lot for my friend and the community they've built. please reblog and consider donating. thank you for your time.

[tau1tvec]

[ quote ]

Cain was invited by Bethesda's Todd Howard to the premiere event at the Chinese Theater in LA, and seemed to enjoy the big budget celebration of the Fallout series. As for the show itself, Cain had nothing but praise for the premiere, which consisted of the season's first two episodes. "I was literally at the edge of my seat," he said.

Cain appreciated the performances and storytelling, but singled out how the show nailed the Fallout "vibe" as its biggest achievement. "I was just looking at all the props," he said of one scene. "I realized after a few minutes went by that I had not followed the dialogue at all, because I was so engrossed by it visually."

On a more sour note, Cain took time to address the way fans of the series can behave poorly online, particularly regarding any perceived rivalry between Fallout entries developed by Bethesda (3, 4, and 76), and those from Interplay, Black Isle, and Obsidian (1, 2, and New Vegas). Cain spoke positively of Todd Howard, and said that "Some of the stuff you [series fans] say online is so off."

At the premiere Cain also caught up with Brian Fargo, founder of original Fallout publisher Interplay and currently the head of RPG studio inXile. In the past, Cain criticized Fargo when explaining why he left development on Fallout 2 to found his own studio, but Cain made it clear that their relationship is amicable, and that the development of Fallout 2 was a complicated situation from over 20 years ago: "People remember things differently, things happen differently, things affected people differently."

Unfortunately, Fargo seems to have experienced abuse online from fans reacting poorly to Cain's story, reactions which the developer strongly disavowed. "If we can get along, you guys can get along," Cain insisted.

"You guys can be really destructive," Cain said, "Which is odd, because you do it to people who are trying to make things."

[ end quote ]

[p0is0n-b0ttle]

Two Cats Stuck in a Vent (One-Shot)

Word Count: 8186

Description: Noir gets stuck in a vent and has to call the only person she can trust for the job

Notes: No use of Y/N, instead your hero name Noir is used, no physical descriptions except for the hero suit with a set design. Basic power description for this fic is the suit is alive and his name is Khaane, (if you are aware of the show Miraculous it’s legitimately just Cat Noir with a few tweaks) the suit is black, has cat ears, and a belt tail. Khaane can speak to reader in her mind *like this* Reader is also a vampire but it’s a secret, if you’re interested in how I think the suit looks you can see my art, keep in mind the art is separate from the fic, only the suit is in the fic and its basically just the way I see Noir when I read the fic. Also this is my first fic I’m posting in 7 years so plz be gentle :’D more notes at the end!

TW: afab reader, vamp!reader, very suggestive themes, almost dry humping, cursing, a smidge of angst, blood, mentions of violence (it’s an Adrian Chase fic, fork found in kitchen), detached limbs, no smut but god are they both horny, NOT established relationship (they pining)

“—And I just thought, who would be the best hero to help find him, and of course it had to be you! Since— well, you know…” The old lady, Edna, she called herself, gestured to Noir's cat ears that sat on top of her head. 

Noir crosses her arms and gives a slight scowl to the old lady. “Are you one of those people who think I'm actually part cat?” She says in an annoyed questioning tone.

Edna chuckles a bit, surprising Noir with how casual she was with a known criminal, even if some think of her as the hero she once was. “Honey, my eldest daughter absolutely adores you. There isn’t a day that goes by when she doesn’t mention you, and she just so happened to tell me that you are part cat, since your ears and tail move just like those fuzzy little angels. There is absolutely no need to be ashamed!” 

Edna puts a hand on her shoulder, which Noir promptly removes casually. The whole being part animal isn’t a uncommon misconception of her and the other heroes that weld these gifted powers, but it's not exactly a smart idea to correct the information, since the less knowledge on these powers keeps everyone safe from their identities being revealed. 

Noir rolls her eyes as the old woman keeps yapping about how she could just ‘talk to him, you’ll probably get along‘ and ‘I heard furries are acceptable now, not that I really understand it much’, but Noir interrupts her with a raised hand and tired voice, “Just tell me where you last saw him and I will try my best to find him, no promises though.” 

Edna smiles, obviously not bothered by Noir's rudeness, and informs her of where she last saw her “baby”. After dodging another pointless and draining conversation with Edna, she leaves to go searching.

Noir, the supposed strongest wielder out of all the heroes who share her power, once celebrated for her and her partners heroic deeds by defeating powerful enemies and protecting the innocent, given medals for bravery and honor, and currently has more blood on her hands then most criminals, was now on a mission.

A mission to find a lost goddamn cat.

Reduced to this meaningless bullshit, she doesn’t even know why she agreed to this. Thinking more about it, it’s probably because Harcourt sent the group home early since the plan to stop the rest of the White Dragons goons needed more time to prepare, which left her mission-less. 

On top of the fact that Adrian didn't want to patrol tonight, which was a first. He’s usually making up excuses to go on patrol, mostly with her, but tonight he had said something about a new episode of Fargo being on and wanting to watch it live for once. 

He had asked her to join and watch with him, and said he wanted to “Fargo and chill, but actually chill… maybe” She immediately brushed off the ‘chill’ part with an eye roll but he insisted she would probably like the show. She explained she hadn’t watched any of it, nor even heard of the show before, where he excitedly started explaining the plot in either very close detail, or little to no detail which confused the plot for her further.

She declined the offer telling him she needed to go out tonight, insinuating that she was hungry. Adrian immediately understood and told her to enjoy her meal, then hopped in his car to drive home, leaving her alone for the night.

Adrian Chase was one of a kind, no doubt about it. His constant rambling and murderous intent was alluring to her. She enjoyed his company more than she would ever admit, and even after he had accidentally found out about her secret, she didn't kill him. She realized she couldn’t, especially not after he had accepted it so openly with no judgment. 

He had even gone as far as to help her with finding criminals to feed on when she was too weak to do it herself. Though she was never truly too weak to do it, she just honestly adored the way he cared so deeply about her health, and her diet. He’d torture criminals into telling him their blood type, just because she enjoyed certain types. He admitted to looking into how to drain blood from the body, how to keep it as fresh as possible to ensure it was still to her liking, and since she could only drink dead-man's blood he had offered to keep detached limbs in his freezer just in case she needed it.

She quickly expressed how much he didn't need to do that, the kindness toward something no one knew about left her far more flustered then it should have. 

Even worse, when she confided in him that she had always worried that drinking the blood of evil would turn her evil, he had offered his own blood to her since he was O negative, the only type of blood she could drink from someone still living.

The trust Adrian had to allow for even the thought of risking his life for Noir, scared her.  Even though she’s well aware of having the ability to not suck all the blood from his body in one go, she wouldn’t allow herself to put Adrian in that position for risk alone. Not to mention the intimacy of getting so close to him while on a blood high, her teeth sunken into his neck, lips touching his skin-

Her thoughts about Adrian were interrupted by a loud crashing sound in an alley nearby. She quietly makes her way over to the sound and spots a black and white blur scurry right towards her. 

She wasn't expecting the cat to run directly at her as soon as she turned into the alley, and the cat apparently wasn't expecting her to be there either, as its run screeches to a stop it stares at her as its breath heaves. 

She holds her hands out and crouches closer to the ground, trying to be less intimidating towards the small frightened animal. “No need to be scared, just let me bring you back home—“

The cat bolts right past her, so she tries strategically tackling it and ends up missing. Her right cat ear twitches as she refrains from growling in anger as she watches it run down the sidewalk away from her.

*Very elegant of you Noir.* Khaane’s voice rattles in her head. She tells Khaane to shut the fuck up as she slowly picks herself up from the dirty ground. 

She dusts herself off, muttering something about her dignity before she breaks off into a run after the cat. 

She watches as it scurries into another alleyway to its right, and she follows but stays outside the alleyway once more. The cat quickly climbs up a garbage bin and jumps onto a fire escape above it, then it runs up the metal stairs onto the roof. 

Noir rubs her face in frustration with one hand, and uses her other hand to unsheath her staff to use as a vaulting pole to get on the roof. She lands on the roof mumbling curses at the cat's invasions to her help. 

The cat turns around at the sound of the Noir’s landing, and as soon as he spotted her, he runs in the direction of an open vent and jumps into it. Noir hangs her head and sighs, then starts to make her way over to the vent.

“I should have made your owner pay me for this bullshit.” Noir mutters as she starts to crawl into the vent slowly. Luckily it was blocked off by another metal grate at the end, leaving the cat trapped, unable to bolt away again. 

She slowly makes her way through the short vent, with every inch she went, got narrower and narrower. She had to squish her shoulders a bit to fit even some of her upper body in. Using her legs on the ground of the roof, she pushes herself into the vent further.

”Come here you stupid fucking feline.” Noir says as she attempts to army crawl unsuccessfully toward the cat, the vent fighting her as she pushes her way into it.

She hardly gets her waist into the opening of the vent before she reaches for the cat, but it backs up further away from her. With her feet still planted firmly on the ground she quietly growls as she squeezes herself farther in using her forearms. 

The vent starts to groan at the strain.

*Noir, be careful.* 

“Fucking— Relax Khaane, I've got it. “ She spits out angrily, then reaches for the cat again and misses. He flattens himself against the wall of the vent, attempting to stay as far from Noir's hands as possible. 

“You dumbassfuckingcunt—“ She steadies herself to push harder into the vent which in turn gives a louder straining noise. The pressure of the metal squeezing her as she desperately tries to get farther in. 

Her hands move to go for the cat once more, only a inch away from him. She leans in farther, trying to ignore the sound.

*Noir…*

“Ive-“ She puts one leg into the vent, her knee digging into the metal.

”Almost-“ Her other leg follows.

Now on both knees, she’s so close to the cat she can feel the fur on her thin gloves. She sucks all her breath in as she finally gets close enough to grab him.

The vent creaks ominously as she goes to wrap her hands around the cat's torso.

*Noir! You’re going to—*

“Got him!” As soon as she grabs onto the cat firmly, her hips shift into the vent with a clunk. 

Khaane groans, but she ignores it as she smirks at the cat triumphantly, but her victory is short lived as the pain in her shoulders finally spreads to her collarbones as her bones start to finally feel the pressure the tight space provides.

She hisses in pain, and immediately moves to back out, attempting to put her feet back onto the ground when she discovers a problem. 

She’s stuck. 

She lets go of the cat during her squabble with the vent, trying to desperately inch her way backwards to no avail. Her shoulders never even budge as she squirms and wiggles in an attempt to escape. 

After swearing and struggling for almost 30 minutes, she finally accepts that she is truly stuck. 

At this point the cat had decided Noir was no longer a threat, and was now laying down watching the scene unfold in front of him, almost looking amused.

She sighs in defeat and drops her head to the metal floor with a bang, and finally gives Khaane what he wants.

”Fine. Fucking— fine. You win. I should have listened to you—asshole. What are our options?” Khaane hums in thought.

*You wont like it.*

”The fuck do you mean ‘I wont like it’. Just tell me so I can get out of here!” 

*You're going to have to call Adrian to help you.*

”Nope. No way.” Noir starts to frantically shove, squirm and ram herself against the metal surrounding her in a last ditch attempt to free herself. After another 10 minutes of fighting the vent, she goes limp in defeat. 

There is no way she’s going to call Adrian right? She cant be seen like this, fucking stuck and vulnerable. He’ll lose every ounce of respect he has for her if he sees her this weak looking. But she cant call Harcourt, she’s working on the plan for the mission tomorrow, and so is John most likely. Chris was never even an option since he’d probably leave her here for laughs, She didn't know anyone else who could help.

Except Adrian. 

With an angry growl and one last very aggressive flail, she sighs and admits defeat. 

“Call Adrian.” 

Only after two short rings does he pick up.

”Heya kitty, how's the hunt going tonight?” He answers cheerfully, a complete opposite on how Noir currently feels, even if his voice somewhat melted a little tension away from her aching shoulders. She sighs,

“I need you to come help me with something.” Immediately there is shuffling on the other end.

”Are you hurt—Did someone hurt you? You never ask for my help—“ His frantic worry fills Noir with guilt so she attempts to stop that train ride from going any further. 

“I'm not hurt, I'm not in danger, I just— uhm…” She trails off, unsure if she should go through with asking him to drop whatever he was doing to help. He could always just say no. 

“Do you need help hiding a body? Because if i'm honest, that’s not really in my wheelhouse. Don’t get me wrong, I'll still help! I'm thinking maybe buying like—five blenders to shred the body would— no that wouldn’t work, bones and shit—tsk— honestly I'm out of ideas.” 

Noir hated this feeling of helplessness. Needing help was rare for her. She’s been doing just fine on her own, maybe she could just wait this out, but part of her knows she'll still be stuck here if she doesn’t ask. 

”Noir? Are you there?”

”Yeah, Im-I'm here, just— uhm— no blenders needed, there’s no bodies— uhm…”

The cat in front of her decided to finally do something other than stare at her, and he meows loudly as he paws at her nose. 

“Was- was that… you?” Adrian asks in a surprised tone. Noir glares at the furry menace,

”No. That wasn't me. Look, I’m—“ She sighs and bangs her head on the ground.

”I'm stuck.” She admits.

“Like, on a equation, orrrrr—“ 

”I'm stuck in a vent and I can't get out on my own.”

There is just silence from the other side that fills her with unease, maybe she should have waited—

“So you need me to come get you out?” He asks, still slightly confused. 

“Yes, but I know you're busy with your Fargo so… It’s honestly not a huge deal, I-I can wait if-“

”Aww kitty, I'll happily come help you! I’m guessing you already called Chris and he was busy—“

”I do not trust Chris enough to come help me with this. That douchebag would probably post this on the internet and ruin my reputation. In absolutely no world would I have trusted him with this.”

Adrian is silent for a moment, the rustling on the other end stopping as well.

”… Are you saying… you trust me?”  Noir could hear the happiness seeping through his question, that dopey smile slowly taking over his face flashed through her mind. She shook that thought away quickly, the blush that threatened to show up was embarrassing on its own, but she blamed the situation itself. No other reason for that. Definitely no other reason…

”How fast can you get here?” Dodging the question, she attempts to move again to try and get herself focused on the issue, and not the sweet relief she felt at the joy of his revelation towards her trust toward him.

“As fast as humanly possible!”

————————

After a little while, she hears footsteps slowly make their way over to where she was. A choking noise came from Adrians mouth as she started to try to get herself out on her own after a few minutes of him watching her tail swing in silence. Definitely only looking at her tail…

”You gonna stare, or are you gonna help?” She hisses in embarrassment. Her face finally starts to warm as she realizes the view he must have on his end. Adrian starts to walk closer towards her and clears his throat to speak,

”How exactly can I help if you— uhm— can't be touched?” He asks warily, as if the question could cause her to run far far away, which, yeah, she definitely wanted to at this point.

”What the hell are you talking about?” She says in confusion.

”Well it's just that… You always push away anyone who goes to touch you, so I try not to… you didnt even accept my high-fives… Or Harcourts hand shakes… I'm prrrrretty sure you almost bit me one time when I put my hand on your face—“

”OKAY— Point made, Vig!” She was not about to delve into that. She groans as she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes.

”Look, I trust you okay? Just— do what you need to do to get me out.” She moves arms uncomfortably, or attempts to at least. Is that why he stopped trying to high five her after every mission and instead high-fiving his own hand while looking in her direction? She just figured he gave up, but was it an attempt to make her more comfortable? Even the rest of the group still attempts to make contact without thinking, but he respects her space…

Fuck— he cares so much about her it made her dizzy.

“Fucks sake— Ill hug you at this point if you get me out! Just try at least!” She jumps as a warm hand pats her ass a few times almost as a test after a moment. The almost burning touch lit her face up more, almost triggering her fight or flight response. 

“Relax kitty, I'll get you outta there in a jiffy! No way am I missing out on an offer like that!” She hears him crouch closer, both of his hands land on the lower part of her hips as he tilts her to the left and right. 

She hears him still as he takes a deep breath in, his hands twitch on her sides before he clears his throat again. 

“I'm going to try and pull you out now, okay?” His voice slightly strains as he speaks, his hands twitching again. Noir hums in acknowledgment and puts her head on her arms as she waits.

He steadies one foot on the bottom of the opening of the vent, the other planted on the ground and pulls her hips toward him. 

Her shoulders barely move as he tries again with a little more strength, but not enough, as if he’s trying not to hurt her. 

“Vig, I’m not made of glass. You can use all your strength, you’re gonna need to,” The faster this ends, the faster her dignity can reform. If she couldn’t get herself out, he definitely wouldn’t be able to with how delicate he was being. 

“Trust me.” She growls out reluctantly. He tries again, she could tell he still isn't using his full strength. 

“Fuck— you’re really stuck in there huh? Maybe we should call the fire people…“ He says kneeling down closer to her, his hands slowly, too slowly, make their way to the outsides of her thighs and she twitches at the feeling. His hands subconsciously twitch back in turn.

“Do you- do you mean the fire department? No— no fucking way. I’d rather die here—“ She tries to push herself back in tiny thrusts as she speaks, pushing her upper body on the metal floor for some kind of leverage.

“Fuck— Stop moving like that— you gotta relax kitty.” One of Adrians hands goes to cover his covered mouth as he rips eyes away from the direct view of her ass moving in his face. The other hand starts to absentmindedly trace circles into the back of her thigh with his thumb causing her to pause. 

When his other hand goes back to her other thigh, mimicking the movement that feels far too good then it possibly should, she bites back a groan and covers her face with her hands. 

She bites her lip as he sits there in thought, his thumbs start to slowly add more and more pressure, digging into the muscles of her thighs.

“Shit kitty, you are tense as fuck. Have you ever even had a massage before?” His hands, and attention apparently, start to move up and down the back of her thighs, lightly massaging the tight muscles. 

When his hands just miss the swell of her ass and go back down, she squeaks out a very quiet moan from under her hand, hoping to whatever god was watching that he didn't hear it. He hums in question after she doesn’t answer. 

“N-no.” Is all she’s able to get out. He sucks in a deep breath as he speaks again,

“No offense kitty, but— shit— you look really good right now—“

“Can- can we talk about anything else while you try and think of a way to get me out?” Her brain was short-circuiting at all of the thoughts of him fucking her, and the close physical contact that she hasn’t felt in years, only just keeping calm enough to remind him of his mission again as she has to fight her thighs from squeezeing together.

He pats her thigh twice a little roughly as he moves to get up. He stares for a moment at the way her ass jiggled at the movement and lets out a breathless “Damn..” Then shakes the trance off. 

He starts to walk around the vent, examining it for any weak points that could help as he speaks up again. 

After a bit, he says, “I thought the moon was a chunk of the Grand Canyon that broke off.” Noir’s mouth goes agape, almost squawking as she takes that information in but also thankful for the change in subject. 

“There is no way you actually thought that…” If Khaane could slam his head into a wall, he would be doing just that and in turn, that feeling made Noir want to do the same. 

“I'm not kidding kitty, I thought the moon didn't exist—“ 

“No, no way—“

”No, hear me out! Follow me here! When the meteor hit the planet and killed all the precious dino’s it knocked a chunk of earth off which was part of the Grand Canyon, and it formed into what the moon is.” Noir stayed silent for a moment, then responded with awe in her voice, 

“You think something broke off into space when the meteor that killed the dinosaurs hit the earth? Are you familiar with the Grand Canyon?” 

He was quiet for a moment, most likely looking up into the sky in thought like he usually does when he’s trying to confirm a response in his head, “Yes.” 

“Doesn't sound like it!” She laughs out. Adrian fist bumps the air behind her, silently beaming at making her laugh, even if he doesn’t really know why.

”Okay, well there isn’t any way for me to unscrew the vent apart since its all melted together…” Adrian puts a hand on his chin in thought as he stares at her ass for answers.

”You mean welded together?” Noir asks, feeling slightly more comfortable and less humiliated. 

”Potato tomato. Can’t you just— you know— disintegrate the vent? With your strong cool cat powers?” 

“I could, if I want to disintegrate the feline with it.” She says as she glares at the cat itself, now grooming himself without a worry in the world. 

Adrian hums in thought, and Noir thinks she hears him sit next to the opening of the vent next to her. Why the fuck isn’t Khaane helping? He has more knowledge than the both of them combined, he has just been silent this whole time.

*I'm honestly just enjoying your struggle, you did do this to yourself…*

Noir growls and rubs her face frustratedly. So Khaane isn’t going to help, for his own entertainment, now she’s left with Adrian and her mind. The latter being on hiatus with the whole situation being so… unique…

She can hear Adrian drumming his fingers against the ground as he hums a song she cant place, then he speaks up again,

”Why don't you like to be touched?” The loaded question hangs in the air for a bit. She really didn't want to get into this while stuckinavent but Noir trusts Adrian, so much more than she realizes. Which is why she answers honestly.

”I don't… not like to be touched, but it's a strange dislike. I guess I don't really like to be touched because… I crave it so much— too much.” Being hurt time and time again has led her to this way of thinking, coupled with the fact Khaane believes any form of love is weak. Everything about touching someone— or being touched— is a vulnerable and trusting process, which has burned her too many times before and left Khaane to heal what he could. But in all honesty, he can’t heal mental wounds, and when he tries, he makes them worse.

“That's kinda sad, Noir…” He says with sadness lacing every word.

”Life could be worse, Vig.” She says bluntly, she wants to be held so tightly that she can’t break, but there are so many pieces on the ground. And she'd rather leave them there instead of burdening someone else to clean up what she can’t.

”Life could be alot better, too” He shoots back. Noir stays silent after that, he’s right of course, but she doesn’t deserve a better life. At this point she’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person. Even if she ends up dying alone, which deep in her core she knows is most likely one of her worst fears. 

Her tail swings and hits Adrians leg, and an idea comes to his mind.

”Oh! What if we take your belt off?” He asks, starting to stand up again. 

“Do you really think that will help? It doesn’t feel like my belt is stuck on anything.” Noir says, slightly unsure. She can't remember the last time she actually took her belt off since the suit just appears on her as soon as she wants it to. 

Adrian shrugs, “It can't hurt to try, right?” 

Noir shifts uncomfortably but ultimately agrees. Adrains hands go under the roof of the vent and land on her lower back, and slowly, so fucking slowly, make their way up to the back of her belt. His hands follow the belt to go to reach under her, but stop when they hit the sides of the vent. 

“Huh… Guess I have to go underneath.” His hands retract, then tap the insides of her thighs a few times which causes her to jump and cover her face as it somehow gets warmer. 

“Open those legs more kitty.” Noir shuts her eyes and shifts her legs open wider. This is fine, totally fine! He’s just a friend. Just a friend helping her get unstuck. Totally platonic!

Adrians left hand rests itself on the back of her thigh, the other reaches underneath her and lands just underneath her chest. His chest makes contact with her thighs, and she can feel how close and warm he is. She bit her lip as the hand on her thigh started to move in circles again in a soothing way, but she wouldn’t exactly call what she felt very soothing. 

The hand underneath her slowly drags down across her stomach, searching for the buckle to her belt. As it went lower and lower she finally let out a shiver at the vulnerable spot he was touching so softly. The heat between her legs that she had been desperately ignoring was now making itself very known.

Completelyplatoniccompletelyplatoniccompletelyplatonic

Something told her he was going a little slower then he needed to, but she wasn't about to start complaining. 

His hand finally finds its destination, and with a click, the belt comes undone. She breathes out a sigh of relief as he pulls it out from underneath her.

He leans back on his heels still crouched and takes a closer look at the belt. The staff, pouch and tail connected to it caused so many questions he needed answers to, so he asks, “Can your tail still move when it isn’t connected to you? Like a lizard, or a starfish? Also, can I look in your pouch?” 

Noir quickly thinks of anything embarrassing that might have been left inside of it, and comes up with nothing.

”Sure, I guess. And no, the tail can't move anymore since it's not connected to the suit, but Vig you need to stay focused. I’d really enjoy getting out before it gets dark.” 

After a few moments of Adrian going ‘hmm’ and ‘ohhh’ while he looks at the contents of her belt pouch, eventually he returns to the task at hand. At least it gave her time to recover a little bit.

He claps his hands together and rubs them, “Okay kitty, lemme try and pull you out again.” He stands up and reaches back into the vent again, grabbing her hips like the first time.

After a few more pulls with no success, he maneuvers her legs to wrap around his waist and wraps his arms around each leg, bracing his foot against the vent for leverage. Noir locks her feet against his back and takes a shaky breath.

Adrian slowly starts to lean backward, relying on gravity to do its thing. Soon after he yanks slightly, then tries again harder when nothing budges. He huffs out after it doesn’t work with a few more tries, Noir reminds him that he has to go harder. 

The next yank was far more forceful and he lets out a grunt. From this angle she can feel the vibration of it right against her, and it makes her fucking wimper. 

“Did that hurt you?” His grip on her legs starts to fall, and in embarrassment and panic she tightens her legs around him a little. 

“Keep going, I’m fine. Totally fine…” She whispers the last part mostly to herself, and covers her mouth when he goes to yank again. His breath slightly hitches after he grabs at the junction of her hips and leg to get a better grip and presses her ass against him more. 

Adrian adjusts his foot higher on the vent, and a loud groan rips through his chest as he yanks again, a moan gets caught in her hand as bolt of pleasure goes up her spine at the slight relief between her legs when she feels the accents on his suit drag at just the right spot.

At this point she’s fighting with every cell in her body not to start squirming against him, the totally complete practical touches were leaving her so much warmer than she could handle. 

Another grunt comes from Adrian, and in frustration with not getting her loose, he moves her hips right against his crotch for a better angle without thinking. Noir lets out a tiny squeak as her brain goes blank.

He’s about to yank again when he pauses, his hands twitch again but he doesn’t continue pulling.

”I just realized this is exactly like a porno I watch like- just last week.” He says casually, the thumbs that rest on her hips starting to soothe in circles again.

Noir can’t form a coherent thought at this point, but after a few seconds of no response or movement from Adrian— what the fuck is he even doing back there— she removes her hand from her mouth to try and derail that thought from both of their minds.

”I’m— I apologize for interupting your Fargo show, the one time you take the day off from patrolling and of course I fuck it up—“

”What? Kitty, you didnt fuck anything up. You needed my help so of course I came, I’d drop anything to come and help you!” Adrian starts to rub her back lightly, but as he continues he starts to massage the tight knots in her lower back making her drop her head as her eyes roll into the back of her head as she groans at the pleasure.

”Besides, I was already recording it, so it's not a big deal. I'll just wait for start of the next season to watch it live-“ That snaps her out of the haze he was putting her under as her head shoots up in shock, and it hits the top of the vent with a bang, the cat in front of her jumps at the sound and glares at her.

She groans as she rubs the top of her head, Adrians hands on her back start moving faster as he asks if she’s okay. Of course she’d interrupt him when he wanted to watch a finale of his favorite show, she’s such a fucking idiot.

”I can't believe I bothered you during a finale— god—I'm such a dick—“

“Noir, you don't bother me, you’ve never bothered me, you couldn’t bother me. I promise you, you’re not a dick, and it's not a big deal—“ He tries to quickly comfort her, as much as he loves Chris, Adrian has heard his fair share of being a bother to his friend, even if he thinks Chris is just being emotionally defensive most of the time. It still makes him feel like shit when he hears it but plays it off.

”But it was important to you, and that’s a big deal to me.” She groans and rubs her face, guilt eating her alive at this point. Adrian is glad she can't see the bashful smile that appears on his face thanks to his mask and the vent. 

”I'm such a shitty friend.” She eventually says sadly, the guilt seeping its way through the statement. She already doesn’t think she deserves a friend like Adrian, now she knows she doesn’t deserve his kindness, his laughter, his loyalty. But Adrian isn’t about to let her think that way,

“Don’t say that— you are not a shitty friend. Kitty, I wanted to help you, I’d rather spend time with you more than anything else in the world. Especially if I get to stare at your ass the entire time.” She could hear the smirk on his face as he said the last part, the fact she could tell he was telling the truth made her squirm against him subconsciously.

”Alright, enough with the evil self loathing scorpions kitty, let's get you out, okay?” His hands go back to where they were before on her hips as Noir tries to sort through the wave of emotions she was feeling. She finally settles on an idea that comes to mind.

”I’ll watch Fargo with you from the beginning if that makes up for it.” She sheepishly says, the nervous tone coming from a rejection she was waiting to hear back. Instead she hears an excited gasp from him.

“For real? Are you being for real right now because holy fuck that would be so fucking awesome— It’s a long show so you’d have to come over a ton to finish it but you won’t see me complaining. I can make popcorn and we can have sleepovers-“ 

“If you get me out in the next five minutes I’ll think about a sleepover, alright?” Her smile started when she realized he was rambling again, his excitement started to seep into her chest as she felt his hands get tighter and tighter the more he went on.

Adrian goes back to yanking Noir, not getting anywhere still. He huffs out one last time in frustration, then Noir yelps as she feels him quickly lift her ass over his chest right under his chin, with his body now leaning fully back and both feet planted on the vent the only thing keeping him from falling on the ground is now Noirs stuck form. 

His hands lock together underneath her stomach. His arms over he legs caging her in completely. Noir lets out a shaky breath and covers her burning face with her hands again. 

With a strong yank, Noir finally feels her shoulders move back, just a little bit,  “It’s working! Keeping going!” She attempts to help by pushing herself with her forearms on the ground of the vent, and with another yank and a grunt from Adrian she feels a slight relief in her collarbones. The thought of almost getting out of the damn vent has clouded over her thoughts, no longer caring about how close they were, or the risqué position they were both in. 

“Holy shit— yes— Come on Vig— You— gotta— go— harder—“ Each time she spoke he yanked with more pressure, his grunts getting louder and louder as she finally started to inch back some more. She started to feel his arms shake from the strength he was using, if she wasnt more durable in the suit he probably would have cracked one of her bones at this point, but he kept going and she kept getting closer millimeter by millimeter. 

Eventually she feels the pressure on her arms start to lessen, then a familiar clunk noise causes adrenaline to shoot through her. She’s almost out. 

She can now hear the vent slowly creaking again as it fights to keep her locked in, but she starts to feel her shoulders lighten, she squeezes her eyes shut and starts to push back even more against the vent to help Adrian more. Noir slowly starts to feel herself winning against the vent as she slides backwards.

”Fuck— yesyesyesyesyesyes!” In a flash, she's outside the vent. Adrian groans as she lands on top of him, he now lays on his back with her just above him, his knees holding her upright against her chest. 

Noir blinks a few times to adjust to the difference in light, and realizes the cat she was hunting is now in her hands. Khaane must have grabbed him for her when she was to busy being ecstatic that she was actually getting out. 

Noir stares back at the cat with a triumphant smirk, “Got you, you little shit.” The cat growls lowly at her, but doesn’t squirm from her grip, he just accepts defeat and hangs limply in her outstretched hands. 

Noir continues basking in her victory until she feels Adrians hands do that familiar twitch on the back of her thighs where they keep her from crushing him. She slowly turns her head around, twisting her body to see him and— oh my god—

She’s basically sitting on his face. Her cunt about an inch away from him. Noir scrambles up, using one of her hands to push herself off of Adrian using his knee, unintentionally spreading his legs wider and he groans in what she is going to call… pain (it wasn’t pain).

As she stands up nothing but apologies come from her mouth, but she goes silent after nothing comes from the masked unmoving hero. He’s just laying on the ground still, his hands resting on his chest as he looks like he’s trying to regulate his breathing. 

Noir stands there with the cat in her hands with a worried look, and after another minute or two, she nudges Adrian with her foot lightly, “You good?” 

The only response she gets is a thumbs up, which thumps back down onto his chest quickly. Noir smiles lightly, and crouches down next to his head to look into the visor at his closed eyes. 

“Thank you for helping me Vig. I really appreciate you coming here to free me, and sorry— about almost riding your face.” Adrians breath hitches, and a twitch goes through him. 

After another moment, the cat in her hands meows and Adrian's eyes open at the sound. He looks at the cat in her hands, then up at her and her heart skips a beat as she sees his eyes crinkle behind the visor as he smiles underneath the mask. After a slow breath he clears his throat and speaks, 

“It was absolutely positively no problem kitty, I'm siked I was able to help you out.” Noir holds out a hand for him to grab, and he takes it with both of his hands. She pulls him up and has to steady him as he wobbles on his feet a bit. 

They stare at each other, Noir bashfully smiles at him then after a beat, she speaks in a monotone voice, “Let's never talk about this again.”

Adrian chuckles and puts his hands on his hips as he shakes his head, “Sorry kitty, but there isn’t a chance in hell that I won’t bring this up again.” Noir groans as she rolls her eyes, the cat in her hands starts to squirm a bit reminding her of his presence. 

“Well, I have to return this guy back to his owner… You wanna come with?” Adrian nods his head frantically, and starts marching over to one of the ladders.

”Let’s go!”

”Other way Vig.” Noir smirks as he quickly turns around on his heel.

”I knew that! I was just testing if you knew… Let's go!”

————————

The walk to Edna's house started with Adrian telling Noir that ‘she looked like one of those raccoons with its head stuck in a tin can’, ‘have you ever seen those really cute and funny videos of cats getting stuck in boxes?’, ‘pretty sure I saw a video of a hedgehog with a McDonald’s fry bag stuck on its head’ and probably every other variation of “animal being stuck” that he could think of. 

Eventually he started telling her about Fargo. Noir had noticed when Adrian gets really into rambling about something he really likes he starts to curse like a sailor. Khaane counted 26 ’fucks’ in his 3 minute rant about how Martin Freeman is his favorite actor, but no matter how many times he curses, Noirs smile never faded from her face as she listened intently. 

When they got to the building Edna lives in, she told Adrian to wait in the alleyway next to it. Edna might have a heart attack seeing him, and the less alive people that knew about them working together the better. 

Noir knocks on the door a few times, adjusting the fluffy creature in her hands, as she waits she looks over to the alleyway Adrian is waiting in, and sees his head poking out watching her. She looks away but can't fight the toothy grin that ends up on her face.

Edna opens the door and Noir drops the grin quickly. The old lady laughs in relief as she takes the cat from her outstretched hands. 

“Thank you Noir! I was so worried about my baby boy and look at him! Not a scratch on his fuzzy little head! My daughter will be delighted to know her favorite hero saved Mr. Munchkin’s.” Edna scratches at the cat's head as she speaks and has a warm smile on her face as she talks to Noir.

The ‘hero’ rubs the back of her neck awkwardly, the praise making her a little nervous. “You should probably get a collar for him in case this happens again, and think about getting him chipped, it would make things a lot easier next time around. Just to be safe.” She says, trying to avoid the whole hero argument. 

Edna starts to go on about how she’ll think about it, and some weird conspiracy shit she read on Facebook one time about someone being able to control the cat from its chip. Noir interrupts her rant with an excuse about needing to help someone else. Edna thanks her again then shuts the door, Noir can hear her sternly telling off her cat from behind it, and walks off back to the alleyway where her friend is waiting. 

Noir turns the corner and stops in shock at what she sees. Adrians hand is outstretched toward her, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. But what’s in his hand is what makes her do a double take. 

He’s holding someone’s detached arm. From what she can tell it’s their left arm, the thick blood from the ‘incision’ is still leaking heavily. Adrian shifts his feet as Noir stares at the limb in shock, still trying to put the pieces together.

Adrian can see she’s struggling with her shock and speaks up, “I got you dinner! I remember you saying you were hungry when we left HQ… and someone was spray painting in the alley across from us so… Are you… not hungry?” His shoulders slightly fall as he realizes she might have ate already, but Noir shakes her head like a etch a sketch to clear her thoughts up. 

“I’m… I'm still hungry… I didn’t get a chance to eat before the old lady asked for help so…” Adrian's entire body springs back to life and he shakes the arm at her excitedly. Noir lets out a breath of a laugh through her nose and grabs the arm from him. Adrian leans forward and starts to rock on his feet as he waits for her to bite, very obviously waiting to watch her eat. 

Noir tries to ignore his watching eyes and sinks her teeth into the forearm and starts to drink from it. Her face softens as she indulges the pure energy it gives her as she continues. The blood high makes her hyper focus, an almost animalistic feeling washes over her as she gives into the ride. The arm starts to almost deflate from lack of liquids and eventually she lets go with a pop.

She wipes the excess blood from her lips with the back of her hand, and takes a glance at Adrian again with dilated pupils. 

“Was it good? It didn’t have any drugs in it right? I asked him if he did any but he was so nervous that I couldn’t tell if he was lying. Also he said he didn’t know his blood type so— yeah…” He trails off as she starts to stare at the flesh and bone in her hand. A smile slowly creeps onto her face as she thinks about how he is way too thoughtful for his own good. 

How could someone— anyone— treat her so nicely? Everything in her tells her that she doesn’t deserve it, that she will never be worth the work, but Adrian is always there somehow batting off those thoughts with a baseball bat in her head. He treats her like she’s everything, and she thinks of herself as if she’s nothing. He deserves something nice for his effort, a gift maybe? What would she even get him?

Noir shakes her head again, her blood high finally starting to lessen. She’ll figure something out for him, he deserves it. Her hand holding the arm starts to glow with a threatening black light, and the arm disintegrates into dust right in front of them.

Noir looks back at Adrian, his body language giving him away completely. He’s nervous, maybe about accidentally drugging her? Noir blows air through her nose and closes her eyes as she rubs her arm awkwardly. Slowly she walks over to him, and stiffly, but very very carefully wraps her arms around his waist and presses herself into him in an attempt at a hug. God she can’t even remember the last time she did this.

Adrian immediately wraps his arms around her in return, squeezing tightly as a content hum leaves him. Noir tips her head down below his chin, leaning on him subconsciously as she starts to melt into the embrace. Her eyes close as the dopamine starts to make her sleepy, her heart pounding as she inhales the scent of kevlar, mint, sweat, coffee, and a hint of dish washing soap. She can hear his heart beating just as fast as hers— god— she feels lightheaded from all the feelings running through her, but she needs to stay on task.

“Thank you Adrian, you’re a really good friend to me. Sorry… I’ve… never really been good at telling people how I feel but… you make me want to try.” Noir pushes her head against his chest a little bit more, taking all the warmth he was so effortlessly offering.

“You don’t have to keep those feelings locked up in your brain kitty, people are like Guinea pigs, they need friends for comfort— or something. I will always be here if you need my help or if you wanna talk, that will never change.” Adrian nuzzles his cheek into her hair affectionately. Noir squeezes him a little tighter as she takes in his words.

Eventually she reluctantly lets go, but does notice his arms linger just a smidge longer than necessary. Noir doesn’t have it in her to look at him, instead looking at the broken cement on the ground. 

Adrian claps then rubs his hands together, “Wanna start Fargo at my place? I have popcorn.” He sings the last part as he tries to entice her into going. She looks up at him and smirks before she rolls her eyes then starts to walk out of the alleyway. 

“Alright, let’s go then.” Adrian fist bumps the air and starts to jog up to we’re she walks, then ultimately asks,

“So… sleep over? Please?” 

Noir lets out a chuckle, “I'll think about it.”

Notes:

— Lemme know what you think! I write a lot tbh but I never post it in fear of not finishing it, or just because it’s not entirely perfect but I’m taking a leap with this one! Also is this way too OC? I struggle with characters that don’t have a set story or power so… idk

— The dialogue about the Grand Canyon is from the Backyard podcast, definitely look them up on tiktok if you want a laugh

— I have so much backstory for Noir, and I have written a little of her story but it definitely needs tweaks but she has tons of potential if y’all like it!

— “I’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person” is from Death Note, also headcanon that Adrian has definitely watched it bc how could he not?

— I’m currently working on a x reader for Daredevil that’s coming along nicely, but this was stuck in my head

— Honestly there has been such a drought in Vigilante fic’s and I’m hoping when season 2 of peacemaker comes out there will be more (my calculations are that it will be done filming by the end of next month yes I did the math also editing should only take about 5 month hopefully don’t get me started how we’ve seen Peacemaker, Harcourt, Adebayo and John on set but no Adrian I’m terrified they changed his suit design or his character) 

[dvchvnde]

days are getting shorter. there's ice forming on the bay. the sky is a strange, steel-blue with muted streaks of pink, and orange, and purple. a morose pastiche of autumn's downfall made by a child as they smear crushed bluebonnets across a watercolour canvas of bruised, over-ripened peaches melting into the horizon. a chill in the air. the smell of moose chili on the stove.

i want something full of empty spaces for that weird, blue-orange cusp of winter. the fistsized ache of loneliness weeping off the pages, and falling into the hardened muskeg below.

maybe Price washes up on the shores of your isolated hamlet. why he's there, what he's doing, is as much of a mystery as he is. layered deep in secrecy. but he's the odd man out here—someone who doesn't belong.

(but it's okay, because you don't really feel like you belong, either.)

it's all happenstance, really. he rolls into town with his broad shoulders and gruff, curt words; a harsh, uncrossble distance etched in pale blue. but he isn't the only one who burns hot, and you match his fire with your own.

in that wild, untameable blaze, you find something you've been missing, like a steady trickle, dribbling down like sticky sap into a metal pail. childhood nostalgia of dipping a stick into the bucket, and rolling it over snow. maple taffy. sweet and comforting. a scarf that smells of fresh wool.

(maybe he does, too.)

but his stay comes with an expiration date.

you have to remind yourself not to forget that.

it's just easier said than done when all the pieces he gives you are exactly what you've been looking for this whole time.

OR: angst. secrets. culture-shock. hunting. this might end up as a bear-spirit/shifter John Price fic but i really love the idea of human!John Price running from his past and into the arms of NAPs officer Reader who puts the pieces together (murder mystery, mayhaps), and has to grapple with your own sense of morality—turn Price in to the corrupt cops, or hide a fugitive in your home. very fargo-noir.

[dudeshusband]

Title: I never had no regrets

Ship: Mike x Dude (old edition), Mike & Colorado Ryan

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Major character death, religious themes

Description: Mike and Dude's last day together.

Dude groaned softly as he eased himself into his chair on the front porch. Dude rubbed his face and sighed. Mike came out of the house with two cups of coffee and the newspaper. Dude took the newspaper appreciatively and opened it. Mike sat down next to Dude silently. It was a warm morning, and they were dressed in their lightest patterned shirts. Dude still left his partially unbuttoned as he had in his youth. 

July 16th, 1914. The little town hadn’t had its own newspaper when Dude came into it about 50 years ago. All the news was word of mouth then. The town was hardly much bigger now than it had been in 1860 but there were cars, and a pharmacy with a soda fountain had finally made its way over. Dude could drive a car now but he didn’t like to. Unfortunately, it was harder getting on horses now than it had been even 5 years ago. It was harder getting around at all. 

The newspaper talked about how the school that had been built only 20 years ago was getting on. There was a war brewing in Europe. Woodrow Wilson was doing this and that for domestic policy. 

“Anything good?” Mike asked him. 

“The school’s doin’ well.”  

Mike shook their head. “How this damn town lasted almost 30 years without a school, I’ll never know. You’d think they wanted a bunch of uneducated hicks.”

Dude frowned at them. 

“I don’t mean you, Dude. You weren’t born here.” 

“I’m an uneducated Texan hick, anyhow.” 

“Well, you can read that newspaper,” Mike tried with some levity. 

Dude only frowned more. 

Mike shook their head. “Old age has killed your sense of humor.” 

He laughed. “All these years, and you still ain’t funny.” 

Mike feigned offense, but conceded, “One of us has to be the grumpy old man.” 

Dude smiled. A couple of his teeth had fallen out and his lips were worn. He still had a pretty smile. Mike smiled back at him. They took one of his wrinkled hands in theirs. They frowned at a bruise on it. 

“You better start being more careful Dude, you aren’t a young man anymore-” 

Dude waved his hand. “Ah, you still worry too much. No man ever died of a bruise.” 

“Well, if you fall-”  

“Fall?! Who’s fallin’? Not me, that’s for damn sure,” Dude interrupted in indignation. 

“You sound more like Chance every year.” 

Mike and Dude looked vaguely in the direction of the jail, as if Chance could still be there. Dude pouted. “Am I really a hardass?” 

“No, baby, but you’ve gotten especially stubborn and prideful.” 

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. Gettin’ old…it ain’t a cakewalk.” 

Mike squeezed his hand. “I’m here for you, always.” 

Dude got a very serious look on his face. “I know. I only wish I could be there for you. My time’s coming, honey.” 

Mike tilted their head. They tried to laugh. “You say that like you’re dying tomorrow.” 

“I’m serious. I feel Heaven callin’.” 

“But you’re sure it’s Heaven?” 

“At night, I hear the angels.” 

“Baby, you’re just dreaming. Just dreaming. Come on, let’s go for a walk in town, huh?”  

Dude grabbed his old worn hat and the pair walked into town. It was still small, but it had acquired more streets in the past two decades. What had once been a single street, turned into 6 streets. Mike and Dude walked past the Wells Fargo that was still in the same spot next to the new pharmacy. 

Dude stopped. “We should get two ice cream sodas.” 

They frowned. “This early in the morning? Are you sure that’s good for-”  

“Mike, I’m 75 years old. I know what’s good for me.” 

“Oh, I know. I just care about you.” 

Dude kissed their hand and they walked inside the pharmacy and came up to the counter. “Two coca-colas with chocolate ice cream, please.” 

“That’ll be 10 cents,” said the man behind the counter. Dude dropped a dime on the counter. 

Dude sat down carefully. “You know, I remember the first time I had a coca-cola.” 

Mike laughed. “So do I. Did it still have cocaine in it then?” 

Dude furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know. When did they take it out?” 

“Ohhh, about 10 years ago.” 

“Yeah, it probably did,” Dude said. “What a fool thing to drink.” 

They both laughed. 

The man behind the counter put down their ice cream sodas and they thanked him. They had their beverages and said little else. 

Dude rolled himself a cigarette as they exited the pharmacy. 

“They come pre-rolled now, Dude,” Mike teased. 

“I like to roll ‘em myself.”  

He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit his cigarette. 

“You used to use matches,” Mike said reminiscently. 

He shrugged. “It’s nice not to have to strike a match against something.” 

Mike blushed for the first time in a long time. “You know, I always thought you were pretty when you smoked.” 

Dude blew smoke out of the side of his mouth and asked amusedly, “Yeah?” 

“Still do.” 

Mike and Dude walked home. 

Later on that evening, Mike lit the stove to reheat some soup they’d made yesterday. Dude sat at the table, watching. 

“Honey, could you…” Dude stopped himself. “How ‘bout you fry up that good cut of pork belly in the icebox for me? And make me a nice glass of sweet tea, huh?” 

Mike turned around. “I thought the pork belly was for when Colorado and his wife and kids come over on Saturday?” 

Dude’s eyes were distant. “Mike, I ain’t gonna be here Saturday.” 

Mike’s heart felt like it had been thrown into the bottom of the ocean. They bit their lip then released it. They told him sharply, “Dude, that is not funny.” 

“I’m not bein’ funny. Mike, I’m not making it to Saturday.” 

His mouth was drawn into a straight line. He looked 10 years older. 

Mike lowered the flame on the stove and sniffed. “Are you sick? Was it the ice cream soda? Should I send for the doctor?” 

Dude shook his head. “I’m fine. I don’t need no doctor.” 

Mike looked at him for a long time. “Are you sure about the pork belly?” 

Dude nodded. “Fry it up for me…with a couple of mashed potatoes and…do we still have the green beans?”  

Mike nodded. “Alright. I’ll heat up this soup for me.” 

Mike made Dude’s dinner exactly how he asked for it, and sat down with him to eat. 

Dude always insisted on saying grace before meals, so the pair did so. 

“When you pray tonight, could you ask God to take away whatever feeling you’re having?” Mike asked. They almost considered praying themselves. Please let God listen for once. 

Dude gave them a small smile. “I will. But, I want you to know something. I never was any damn good with words. Mike, these past 34 years have been the best of my life. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. If I could do it all over, I’d do it all the same so I always got to you. I wouldn’t trade a minute of it. I don’t regret not having kids with you, and when I go, don’t you think I ever did. I know how your mind is. Don’t go dwellin’ on any bad moment we had. I’m not mad at you. You’re the best damn husband a fella could have. I’m going out of this world grateful for you, you understand?” 

Mike wiped their eyes. “I understand.” 

Dude shoveled down his dinner like a starving man. 

“Hungry?” Mike teased. 

“Always for your cookin’, honey.” 

Mike shook their head fondly. “You did get soft. You old sap.”

Dude grinned. “I was always soft on you.” 

Mike reached out to stroke Dude’s face. “You better be here Saturday, Dude.”  

“I’ll try, honey. I will.” 

When the pair went to bed that night, Dude was insistent on sleeping naked as they did more often when they were younger. Mike didn’t mind Dude’s aged body. They were in love with every wrinkle, bruise, and sag.  He retained some of his tan, though his days in the sun were shorter. He’d put on a bit of weight, but Mike loved that all the more. He still smelled like coffee and tobacco. Dude took a deep sniff of Mike’s hair. 

“Always fruity. Used to be cucumber. Now more peachy.” 

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” Mike whispered. 

“As handsome as I used to be?” 

Mike hugged Dude closer. “More handsome.” 

“You’re lyin’, but I love you.” 

“I love you too.”  

Mike woke up slowly that morning with Dude still pressed close to them. They felt Dude’s thinning hair and sighed. As their hand fell onto his neck, their heart stopped dead in their chest. He was stone cold. Mike kept their eyes closed as they pushed themselves away. Their heart pounded in their chest. They almost tumbled off their bed, but were able to steady themselves. They opened their eyes slowly, to their husband still on the bed. He could almost have just been asleep, except his skin had become a strange shade of grey. They reached out slowly and felt his cheek. Cold. They knelt down and kissed him lightly on the forehead. 

“Dude, I should have made a big speech to you too. You knew I loved you. I know you did. I don’t want to go on without you. But I will baby, I will. I guess I’m glad I knew…or had an idea. I hope you were always right and you’re in Heaven. Having breakfast with the angels. You’d fit right in. You are my angel. Watch me carefully, huh?” 

For a long while, Mike didn’t move. They kneeled in front of the long gone Dude and caressed him. They held back tears. After some long amount of time that could have been an hour or two, they managed to stand. Their knees groaned on the way up. They grabbed their robe from the closet and tied it around themselves. They neglected putting on any shoes. 

Mike walked out of their house into the Friday morning air. The warmth of the morning was an insult to how dead and cold Mike felt. They managed to get to Colorado’s farm. He had a good deal more land than Mike and Dude had ever acquired. With his 6 children, he needed it a lot more. They stumbled across the pathway past Colorado’s group of cows. They chuckled, remembering their sole cow back at the ranch. What a meager life they had lived. 

Mike was greeted by Colorado’s youngest, Abilene. She had long brown hair, and favored her father. She was as girlish cute as he had once been boyish cute. She smiled. 

“Why, good mornin’,” she drawled. “I thought me’n Pa ‘n Ma weren’t coming over ‘til tomorrow?” 

Mike was grave. “I need to talk to your father.” 

Abilene frowned then hurried inside. Colorado soon replaced her in the doorway. His brown hair was speckled with gray, and his boyish smile had flattened into a handsome, but aged grin. 

“Hey, Mike. What can I do for you?”  he asked. 

“Dude’s dead, Colorado.” 

His grin fell off his face. He laid a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “When?” 

Mike’s resolve broke, and they cried. “Last night I think. I woke up this morning and oh, God.” 

He pulled them into a hug. “It’s gonna be alright. You can stay here with me and Jennetta for a while, until we get the ranch straightened out.” 

Mike shook their head. “No, it’s my ranch. I’m not selling. Dude and I built it together. It goes when I go and not a second before.” 

“Did Dude write out a will?” 

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. All we have is the ranch, a car, and some livestock. And, who’s he going to leave it to if not me?” 

“Where’d he want to be buried?”  

Mike paused. “On the ranch.” 

“Alright. I’ll go talk to the coroner about a death certificate, and we’ll see about a coffin and a headstone.” 

Mike nodded solemnly. “Thank you.” 

Colorado invited Mike inside to sit down at the coffee table while Colorado went out to set up Dude’s final proceedings. Jennetta made Mike a fresh cup of coffee. 

“Sugar or no?” she asked. 

“All the sugar you have.” 

She laughed. She put a few teaspoons of sugar in Mike’s coffee along with a little milk. “You know, Abilene is getting married next month.”  

“That boy, uh, Tommy?” 

“Thomas, yes.” 

“Well, congratulations,” Mike said to Abilene, who had just come back into the room. “One person loses a husband, another gains one. The world goes around.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Abilene. 

Mike stared into their coffee cup. “So am I. It’s so stupid but I thought somehow I would go first.” 

“That’s not stupid,” Jennetta disagreed. “I hope the same thing about my Colorado sometimes.” 

They laughed. “You’re only a year younger than Colorado.” 

She feigned a smile. “Yeah…Mike…Dude’s in Heaven waiting for you.”  

Mike frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t know about all that God stuff. I know Dude believed, and you and Colorado do. Hell, almost everyone in this little town does.” 

“You could come to church with us on Sunday. Come talk to God in his own house, he’ll listen.” 

“I appreciate that,” Mike said. “I just don’t feel quite comfortable in a church.” 

“Isn’t that where Dude’s funeral service is going to be?” 

Mike pondered this. “Yeah, if he wrote a will…yeah. Death’s harder for the living. I have to give him a good celebration. I have to make a pie, and a good roast, and all of Dude’s favorites. I couldn’t let him down…especially if he’s up there watching.” 

“Mike, everyone knows how much you adored him. No one in this whole town is going to think you didn’t if you let yourself grieve. Don’t worry about the service or the party. Tell me Dude’s favorites. We’ll handle everything. You don’t even have to make a speech if you’re not up to it.” 

Mike shook their head. “I’ll allow everything else but I have to make a speech. I have to properly wish my husband goodbye. Don’t take that from me.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“We have to bury him soon…don’t we?” Mike asked quietly. 

“Next couple of days would be best. A wake tomorrow, maybe. Closed casket the second day with a service and a communion if you wanna be Catholic about it.” 

Mike tapped their fingers on the table. “I hope I go soon.”  

“You don’t mean that.” 

“No. I don’t. Dude wouldn’t want me to think that way…but I can’t help it. He’s not here, and…it’s only been a few hours. It’s already hard. I don’t know if I could live another twenty years without him.” 

Jennetta looked at Mike sympathetically. The rest of the morning was in dead silence. 

On the day of the funeral, Dude looked as beautiful in his casket as a dead person could. Mike knew he wasn’t sleeping, but if they ignored the color and temperature he was, they could almost pretend. Mike had him dressed in one of his blue shirts, buttoned low; his worn brown cowboy hat, a pair of tight pants, and shoes. No spurs. His gunbelt and guns would be buried with him later. Mike held his black ascot in their hands, thinking. Was he really Dude without it? Could Mike bear to part with it? Mike kissed the ascot, and gently maneuvered his head to wrap it around his neck. Their Dude. 

“We found the will,” Colorado said as he came up behind them. 

“And?” 

“‘I leave everything to my darling spouse, Mike’,” He quoted. “You were right about the burial. Right on the ranch.” 

My darling spouse. Oh, Dude. 

“Anything else?”  

“You did right by him, Mike,” he reassured. “He’d be happy with all of it.” 

Mike sniffed. “I hope so.” 

Mike sat down, and a service was started. They tuned it all out, trying not to weep. The next thing Mike knew, the casket was closed and they were carrying it back to the ranch. Mike did all they could not to keep touching the casket, as if comforting their dearly departed husband. The walk to the grave that had been dug during the service was the longest walk of Mike’s life. It had been dug by a man who had been an apprentice of the previous mortician, Burt, and one of Colorado’s sons. Mike almost wanted to fall into it themselves. 

The casket was lowered slowly into the hole as the priest said some final words. With Chance and Stumpy gone, Mike, Colorado, and Feathers (who had been phoned quickly enough to drive over) were the only ones to make speeches. 

Feathers’ speech went: “Dude was a wonderful man, a great deputy, sheriff, and friend. He made it through hardships in his life, some of which we all witnessed. He was always considerate of others. He would be the first to put his life on the line to defend this town, even if the town wouldn’t return the favor. He was brave, loyal, and charming. I’m glad to have known him.” 

Then Colorado’s: “When I came into town all those years ago, I didn’t expect to lose my boss, Pat Wheeler, and gain so many great friends. I was always a smartass to Dude and Chance, and they were like brothers to me. We made a damn good team. Dude was the man who avenged Wheeler, and earned my respect. I had so many laughs with him, and his partner, Mike. Until I found my Jennetta, we spent many wonderful Thanksgivings and Christmases together with the gang. I’m thankful for all of it.” 

And finally Mike: “My husband was the bravest man I’ve ever known. He was loyal, kind, funny, and resilient. He was also sensitive, stubborn, and prideful. He was so caught up in defending his manhood sometimes. I know Dude wanted children, and I appreciate that he never resented me for not having any. He was always accommodating to me. Until I found Dude, I thought I was unlovable. I thought I would die alone. Physically, I will, but mentally, I will know that I was loved for the best 34 years of my life. Dude’s heart is still with mine, even if his body isn’t. I’m beyond grateful for every moment I got to care for him. He was the most beautiful and wonderful man I have ever met. I will always adore him. With all my heart, I hope to be reunited with him when I pass, so we can spend eternity together. I owe everything to my one and only, my husband, my lover, my best friend, and my soulmate. I never want to live in a world where I didn’t meet you. Sleep well, I’ll be there soon.” 

Mike teared up and ran into their house to sob their heart out. Gone. Forever. They were all alone in the world. Not alone. There was Colorado and his family. Feathers. The town. None of them could ever replace Dude. No one could ever replace Dude. 

Colorado found them after everyone else had gone home. 

“D’ya wanna see the epigraph?” he asked softly. 

Mike nodded and he helped them stand. He led them outside to where Dude’s grave was freshly covered with dirt. The sun was getting low in the sky but Mike could still make the words out. 

It was Dude’s name, his years lived (1839-1914), and the words: Beloved husband, friend, and sheriff. 

Mike smiled. “It’s beautiful, Colorado. Thank you.” 

“If you ever need anything, you let me know, alright?” 

“I will. Thank you for everything.” 

Colorado walked home. Mike knelt at Dude’s grave and talked for a long while. They went to bed that night and dreamed of Dude.

[bloodsadx]

even the years that i retroactively have viewed as the most useless of my life have paid off. ive met and befriended many of my heroes from when i was down bad and doing nothing. however in spite of this any time im down im still like. well. i guess im going to jump into the fargo life size human mulcher and deboner (in order to become less full of blood). anyway every time im in an uber with my buddy anne she says the word transexual minimum like 6 times no matter what the vibe of the driver is and last night the uber driver told us to try the following pick up lines (which he called “jaw droppers”): when a girl asks your favorite food, say that “[you] don’t care about stuff like that, [you] want to get to know the flavor of [her] taste buds.” he insisted she’s never heard some shit like this before, so she’ll either like it and you’ll start making out, or if she’s “a more polite woman” she will be like ok ok, and at that point you say “i’m not trying to nourish your body, i’m trying to enrich your soul.” he said that you say that, this being the “jaw dropper,” and then you “can shove your tongue down her throat.” well me and my buddy anne were losing our minds in this uber. and then she started saying the word transsexual to refer to her previous partners and the guy became strictly quiet. well anyway. the moral of the post is, if you walk around a lot, you notice more stuff. i’ve been walking about 10-15 miles a day for the past few weeks and something i’ve been noticing a lot is one specific sticker around portland which ive seen i think sincerely about 300 different places in the past week. and i’ve been walking some really not well trodden, very annoying routes, and this guy has been putting stickers up in some really strange and not even particularly visible spots. and the thing is, i kind of don’t even like this guy’s sticker, but i do really like seeing it, so i really respect that guy. and last night i made direct eye contact with a guy as he put down a slice of pizza and took out a paint marker to write on a trash can. me personally if i made direct eye contact with someone as i was about to write on a trash can i would probably not do that.

i’ve been making draft posts like this when i get home from a long walk and then not posting them nearly explicitly because i don’t want a bunch of people to read them. sometimes i let one fly and it does get like a hundred notes and i just get pissed off. a few months ago i got so mad about something i kept hitting the ground with sticks as hard as possible and trying to suplex trees and victorian house porch support beams at my friends houses. not to test my strength but rather to feel completely indignantly impotent and to feel myself fail against the weight of the world. i got into a bad car crash and have been disallowed by the weight of the world from driving endlessly and aimlessly through the country and instead have endlessly and aimlessly wandered by foot through a place i have lived in for 3 years but only recently have come to feel like i have any knowledge of. so its hard to say which years are more useless. the years where i was doing stuff people gave a fuck about or the years where i was doing stuff that hurt my legs and feet and i saw more stuff? well at the end of the day i suppose nobody can say for sure…after all, on the internet, nobody knows i’m a seaman.

[fishfooddude]

Alone with the Baby

Gator's alone with the baby for the first time. CW: N/A

Fargo Masterlist Directory

Gator woke up to soft cries from the baby monitor on his side table. He slowly sat up and pushed his hair back before looking at the clock: 4:45 AM, “Well, guess I’m awake.” he chuckled before exiting your shared bedroom and walking across the hall into the nursery you’d decorated with soft pastel colors and squiggly lines he hadn’t understood. “Good mornin’ princess.” Gator yawned as he picked up his daughter. She calmed down as he cradled her close to his chest. “Did you just want a cuddle?” he asked, “You really are your Mamá’s daughter, huh?” her bottom lip poked out as tears silently fell from her eyes. “Let’s get you changed and fed… you’re gonna have the best day.” 

“I gotta go, honey bee. I love you.” “Love you too. Have a good day at work, Gator.” he grinned at your words before hanging up the call and shoving his phone in his pocket. You being out of town sucked. Granted, he liked the extra time with your daughter, Vivi. It was always more fun when you were around. Roy came outside as Gator exited his truck and opened the back door to retrieve Vivi. “There’s my grandbaby,” Roy said coldly in a way only he could do. “Where’s that little wife of yours, Gator? Why is it that mine is taking care of Vivianna?” Roy smiled down at her. Gator was a disappointment, but Roy was happy to be a grandfather before he was senile. “She’s in Austin visiting her sister.” Gator answered before lifting the baby carrier out of his truck to take Vivi inside, “You sure about that kid?” he ignored Roy’s question as he hurried to get his daughter out of the cold.

“Thank you again, Karen.” Gator grinned as he handed Vivi off to her. She shook her head, “I told you, Gator, we’re family. I’m more than happy to watch this little angel.” Gator chuckled at her enthusiasm; since the twins started attending regular school, she’d become bored at home. “When’s she comin’ home?” Karen asked, bouncing Vivi on her hip. “Couple more days,” Gator answered before turning to Vivi. He squished her chubby cheek, making her squeal happily, showing off her toothy smile. “Be good, baby girl.”

Gator’s smile faded as he got into a cruiser with Roy.  He was in a bad mood, and Gator knew it was probably his fault. They drove in silence until Roy finally broke the silence to criticize you again, “So your wife keeps your balls in her handbag, right?” Gator looked up at the car's roof, not wanting to fight. “We couldn’t go to her sister’s wedding-” Roy’s scoff cut Gator off. “You provide for her, and she cares for the home and my grandbaby. How do you even know she’s in Austin?” Roy criticized as he pulled up to the sheriff’s station. Gator ignored the question and left the cruiser immediately to take a hit from his vape. He trusted you completely, but he’d be lying if he said his father’s words didn’t affect him. 

Roy continued his rant about your mothering abilities as the two walked inside the station; thankfully, Bowman cut off Roy before he could degrade you further. Gator slipped away and was able to avoid Roy for the majority of his shift. He couldn’t help but let Roy’s words bug him throughout the day. Gator trusted you. He knew you were in Austin with your sister; you’d sent him updates frequently, and he was happy you were enjoying your time away from him and Vivi. It’s only been a week, but it had been the longest you’d been away from her, and while you could conceal some of the mom guilt, Gator could tell you were upset. 

As Gator sent you a picture of Vivi from that morning, he tapped the call button in the upper corner of the screen, only for it to go immediately to voicemail. His eyebrows knit together. You never turned your phone off; maybe it had died. Gator sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He tried to distract himself with paperwork, but it proved ineffective. 

“Hi, princess.” Gator cooed as he picked Vivi up from the crib Karen had dug out of the garage. He watched as she adjusted herself in his arms as he walked downstairs. The twins looked up at him before returning to setting the table, “Are you leaving?” Karen asked as she put a stack of plates on the table. Gator nodded. “Yeah.  The wife asked me to keep up with her bedtime routine.” Karen looked disappointed but nodded. “Are you dropping her off tomorrow?” Gator shook his head. “I’m off until Thursday, and then we’re pickin' her up on Friday morning.” Karen frowned but walked over to say bye to Vivi. While Gator just saw Karen as Roy’s wife, he did respect her love for his daughter and half-sisters. “Well, this little angel can visit me whenever she wants.” 

Gator sat on the couch that night, vape in one hand and his phone in the other. Football was on the TV, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was waiting for you to call him back. As the hours passed, with every tick of the clock- Roy’s words got louder. He was snapped out of his trance when he heard cries over the baby monitor. He rose and walked upstairs quickly, “What’s the matter, princess? Drop your paci?” he asked as he stepped into the nursery. Vivi’s cries filled the room; Gator scooped her up and rocked her, “Oh, you just need a diaper change… We’ll get ya cleaned up, baby girl.” he cooed as he looked into her big brown eyes filled with tears. 

“All better. I knew I could manage to take care of you, Vivi.” Gator laughed as he balanced her on his waist, “I know it’s not part of Mommy’s bedtime routine, but you’re gettin' extra cuddles, baby girl.” Vivi had her head on Gator’s shoulder, furiously sucking on her paci as he walked back to the living room. He sat on the couch and began explaining the football game to her. Vivi stared up at him, bored, which made him laugh. “Mommy makes the same face when I explain plays to her. Just wish she’d call me already…” 

The following day, Gator woke up on the couch. His back was already sore. He groaned as he opened his eyes. Vivi was still asleep on his chest, making him grin. He carefully sat up, trying not to disrupt her sleep, as he reached for his phone from the coffee table and saw five missed calls from you and a voicemail. “Oh shit…” he pressed the callback button. When you answered, he could tell you’d been crying, “Gator! I’msosorrymyphonediedwhilewewereoutyesterday-” Gator chuckled. “Baby, I can’t understand you when you’re like this.” he heard you take a deep breath. “Okay… I’m sorry I forgot to call you last night when I got back to Erica’s house.” Gator nodded. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You havin' fun?” “Yeah… I love Erica, but oh god’m ready to come home and be with you and Vivi again.” “You’ll see us on Friday, angel.” “I know… I just feel guilty.” Gator frowned and took a second before responding, “Hey. Don’t feel guilty, baby. I can handle our daughter.” “I know you can, but I just miss her.” 

That day and the next were a blur. Gator opted to spend his days off fixing up the house and cleaning up after himself. He didn’t want you to come home to a dirty house and think you could never leave him alone with the baby again. “Okay, Vivi. That’s how you fix a drippy sink. Mamá will be happy I finally did this, which means Daddy will also be happy-I’ll let Mamá explain that one…” he washed his hands before picking Vivi up from her ‘baby jail’ and walked out of the kitchen. Gator sat on the porch swing, holding Vivi’s waist as she stood on his lap, pointing at the sky as clouds rolled by. Her giggles were music to his ears, “What does that one look like, baby girl?”. Moments like this felt like magic to Gator, watching Vivi smile and listen to her giggles and snorts as she discovered the world- it was a feeling he couldn’t describe.

“Gator!” he couldn’t help but smile when you called out his name and ran up to Vivi and him. You smiled and quickly kissed him before snatching Vivi from his arms. Vivi squealed as you held her to your chest, “I missed you, princess.” you mumbled into her head as you felt a hand on your lower back, “Let’s get you home, Mamá.”

[muldermuse]

this is kind of a ramble so bear with me:

thinking about sending two sinners!gator into an absolute tailspin when he shows up to your house to see everything in boxes and your clothes packed up in a few suitcases by the door

he’s like ????? WHAT IS GOING ON WHERE ARE YOU GOING???? and just casually saying “skipping town” and going to kiss him and he’s like ??????

i can only imagine the catharsis of telling him that “there’s nothing in fargo for me, most of the town hates me and the ones who don’t just wanna fuck me, you’re probably gonna marry glenda which will only make everyone hate me even more if they find out i’m the other woman. So I want to live somewhere else. I’m not happy here.” and he obv freaks out

and maybe you’re just going to stay at a friends house while your place gets painted, but maybe leaving was on your mind (it’s easier to sell a house with fresh paint👀), and maybe you wanted to see how serious he was about coming with you…but none of that is any of his business…

i’m usually not an angst girlie but i’m on my period and it’s probably a safer bet to be melodramatic and pick a fight with a fictional man than one i actually know 😭😭

ok this ask made me feral, i felt so ANGSTY writing it

thank u so much for sending it through angel <3

18+ only!! Angst below the cut!! Gator is mean and reader is maybe meaner. They're both terrible people. He calls her a whore, she calls him a lot of mean names. Mentions of smut but no actual smut.

Maybe, this is super far in the future for the two sinners fic or maybe it is not canon. who knows!!! not me!!!

You’re not sure how he found out. You’ve quietly handed your notice in at work and said goodbye to the few in this shitty town you care about. Jenson, Jax and Steve have been ghosted (but you know that they’d all come back with a simple ‘you up?’ text). You weren’t going to tell Gator you were leaving- he didn’t deserve a goodbye. You’d planned to go for 3 months as your place was going to get renovated in that time (you’d been saving up for years to make it more of a home). So, you thought that the months away would be an opportunity to become a new person. A better person. Someone who didn’t fuck pathetic Sheriffs. If anyone looked in; they’d think you were going forever. You’d decided that as soon as you left, you’d block Gator and when (or if) you returned, you’d avoid him like the plague.

The U-HAUL parked in your drive probably gave it away. Or when Glenda saw you filling up your truck and made a snide comment about what you were doing. Or maybe it was when you fucked him 2 days ago he made a passing comment about how empty your home looked. Since then, the entire hall area is covered in boxes filled with your possessions. You try not to let it depress you that your whole life has been packed up in a matter of days. You need a fresh start, you’re moving in with a friend a few towns over and you can be whoever you want to be for a few months. No one there has to know that you’ve been fucking a loser in a relationship for the best part of 2 years. You know it’s him as soon as he knocks on the door, no one knocks as loud as him and other people wait to be invited in. Gator lets himself in as you’re checking your backpack one final time.

“The fuck is all this shit?” He kicks a box that’s in his way and you’re thankful you don’t hear a shatter. “Saw the U-Haul and uh- Glenda saw you fillin’ up. Plannin’ a trip or somethin’?”. He tries to sound unbothered but you know him better than that.

You don’t look at him when you tell him, “Yeah, I’m leaving”. You tell yourself that it’s because you’re checking your backpack but really it’s because you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and you’re trying to compose yourself before you lose your shit.

“The fuck did you jus’ fuckin’ say?”

“Sorry, I’ll say it slower because you’re a fuckin’ idiot. I am leaving”. You draw out the last three words and stare at him. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you try to read the expression on his face. It’s a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness. A soft kiss his pressed to his cheek as you walk into the dining room to check your toiletries box. That’s the only pleasantry you’ll exchange with him today- or maybe ever again.

His boots stomp behind you as he follows you in. “Well, where are you goin’?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m there, Gator. Now you can fuck off back to Glenda and play fuckin’ happy families for the rest of your life”.

“Well- why are you leavin’? You’ve never mentioned this before”. His voice breaks as he speaks, either a sign he’s getting choked up or he’s getting really angry.

You can feel the anger rattling in your chest and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears becomes overwhelming. “Why am I going? Gator, everyone in this town fuckin’ hates me or thinks that I’m a total whore because of your fuckin’ bitch of a girlfriend. Who- by the way, you’re goin’ to marry because you’re too fuckin’ chickenshit to upset your crazy daddy…” You slam your hands on the table and take a quick breath, “Gator- I fuckin’ hate it here, I’m miserable and I can’t do it any longer- it’s killin’ me”.

He’s stood opposite you and fuck, does he look mad. He doesn’t move for a minute but then shoves your boxes off the table and kicks them when they hit the floor. After a few seconds, he kicks them again with more force and slams his hands on the table.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ mature Gator, breaking my shit beca-“

“What about this? What about us?” His voice is more muted than you’ve ever heard it. His breath is shuddering gasps. You’re unsure why it enrages you.

You laugh cruelly, “What us? What the fuck are you talking about? Gator, you have a fuckin’ girlfriend who you’re going to marry.”

“Yeah but when has that stopped you- huh? You can’t put this all on me. You’re jus’ as bad as me.”

He moves to stand in front of you. The energy in the room is charged, usually, when it feels like this between the pair of you, it would end in some angry sex where you’re both trying to dominate the other person but you both know that isn’t going to happen today. 

“You’re movin’ away to be a fuckin’ whore somewhere else... or because you’re jealous of Glenda. She gets all of me and you jus’ get the fuckin’ scraps”. His smile is wicked and his eyes look darker than you’ve ever seen them.

You take a step closer to him, “I couldn’t think of anything fucking worse than havin’ all of you. You’re a pathetic fuckin’ daddy’s boy who’s never won anythin’ in his life”. You get close enough to whisper in his ear, “you’re a fuckin’ loser, Gator.”

You hate how much you want to fuck him in this moment and by the red bloom that’s creeping up his neck; you know he feels the same.

He leaves your home silently. He kicks another box on his way out and you finally hear a shatter. His tyres spin as his car races off your front lawn. 

You should block his number and know that that is the end of this awful affair. 

But you both know that it isn’t.