#Len & Mick Through the Years

[qlala]

Whump prompt requests?? :o Pretty please can I request Barry gets kidnapped and Len finds him tied up? (Do want: muzzle/gag, handcuffs. Don't want: pet p!ay, established relationship)

i think this is the only prompt i've ever gotten with a detailed list of wants and don't wants, and you know what? i love clear instructions

the devil you know (coldflash, 5.6k, rated M)*

(*note: this fic makes implied reference to threats of SA/noncon, but none occur)

When Iris West tracked Len down three days into the Flash’s latest disappearance, Len sent her on her way with a shrug. He didn’t know or particularly care where Barry was, and he privately doubted Iris’s insistence that Barry wouldn’t have gone off anywhere without telling his team first. 

Still, he made an idle mental note to follow up if another week passed without any sign of him. Making that promise out loud might’ve gone a long way in wiping away some of the bitter disappointment out of Iris’s eyes as she left, but Len had a reputation to protect. 

Besides, Barry had a bad habit of popping up in Len’s life at the most inconvenient time possible. Ten days without the Flash interfering in any heists or Len’s attempts to follow the hockey playoffs undisturbed? He wasn’t that lucky. 

Four days later, a meta-snatcher tossed someone down onto the ground in front of Len's chair in handcuffs, a black hood, and very little else, and Len's first thought was that being right all the time was exhausting.

Narrow hips and shoulders, a lean and powerful body (although, underfed as he looked at the moment, that balance tipped closer to just lean), long legs folding under him as he settled uncomfortably—if prettily—onto his knees before sitting back on his heels. 

The concrete floor couldn’t have been comfortable. Len had put together the de facto throne room they were in precisely for meetings like this. It sat at the heart of a creaking warehouse abandoned at the edge of the docks, largely off the CCPD’s radar given the overwhelming impression that it was going to slide into the river with the slightest gust of wind. (Len encouraged that impression at every opportunity; he liked to post Mardon up on the roof to howl a few well-timed gusts of wind through the corroded metal walls during particularly lucrative negotiations. It made people antsy, and antsy people made worse deals.) 

He’d emptied the place of everyone except for himself and Mick for the evening’s entertainment, though. Call it a hunch; meta-snatching had largely dried up in the past couple of years. Most of the meta-humans with both valuable powers and common sense had already aligned themselves with one big player in Central City or the other—never mind that the distinction felt increasingly like choosing sides for a scrimmage. What mattered was that neither the Rogues nor Team Flash took kindly to their allies getting grabbed off the street, and meta-snatchers had learned quickly and painfully that they were better off finding safer professions. 

Of course, it helped that most meta-humans had also developed a healthy fear of the few meta-snatchers still bold enough or desperate enough to stay in the game. Len had taken that night’s meeting for the same reason that trophy hunters set traps on the edge of their own camps; the bolder the animal, the bigger the teeth. 

When the meta-snatcher pulled the black hood off with a flourish, Barry didn’t even have the good grace to look chagrined. 

“My, my,” Len drawled, settling back into his chair with a slow smirk. “What big teeth you have.”

It was too perfect to resist; he’d had the line ready even before he’d seen the muzzle, and he hadn’t landed on the top of Central’s food chain by ignoring chances landing in his lap like that. 

It was stark black leather, something Len would’ve expected to find in a very particular kind of club and not a meta-snatchers toolkit. He wondered idly if they’d had to improvise; a week of Barry Allen bitching his ear off, he sure as hell would’ve reached for the nearest gag, too. 

And it did seem to be functioning as a gag. It was well made from a single piece of leather, the breathing vents cut into the sides clearly designed not to allow enough give for the wearer to actually open their jaw. It fit snugly over Barry’s mouth and nose, looped securely over his ears, and came together in a heavy buckle on the back of his head. With the way it just skimmed the line of Barry’s high cheekbones, it was nearly a perfect inverse of the Flash’s usual mask.  

It was a better look than the cowl. Shame Barry would probably drop him in Iron Heights for suggesting that he take inspiration from the meta-snatcher’s fashion choice. 

Based on the flatly unimpressed look Barry was leveling him over the mask, Len was going to have to put that one on the back burner for a while. 

A quiet snort from Len’s right pulled his attention momentarily to Mick. Barry was lucky Mick hadn’t boomed a laugh the second the hood had come off; the plausible deniability that he and Len didn’t know who the Flash was under the mask was wearing thin enough as it was. 

Mick leaned against the side of Len’s chair and rumbled, too quiet to carry, “And it ain’t even your birthday.” 

The meta-snatcher cleared his throat self-importantly and Len flicked him a glare as he pulled his smirk under control. He was some distant relative of the Santinis, which made it all the more idiotic that he’d been poaching metas on turf that Len had chased the rest of his family off of years ago. Len had disregarded his first name as soon as he’d heard it; he didn’t plan on needing it. 

“He bite?” Len asked, pushing himself lazily out of the chair. 

Santini tucked the hood into his back pocket, clearly sensing a sale, and backed up a few steps in the universal invitation to inspect the wares. 

“Nah,” he said, conversational now that Len was showing interest. "I muzzle anything with a meta gene. That’s from experience. I caught one once, she could literally talk someone's ear off. And I mean literally. It would shrivel up and just..." He mimed a splat. 

Barry’s dark shock of hair was sticking up wildly around the straps of the muzzle, and Len could see a purple bruise blooming just over the edge of the leather at one temple. However they’d gotten the thing on him, he’d put up a fight. 

A hell of a fight, Len corrected himself, as he got close enough to get a proper look at Barry in the dim light. There were more bruises mottling his skin further down, and they weren’t showing any signs of healing. Len couldn’t see what kind of cuffs were holding Barry’s arms behind his back, but he would’ve put money on power dampeners.

"Meta gene, hm?” Len reached out and trailed his fingers through the air a scant inch above Barry’s mussed hair, just to feel the novel lack of static humming around him. "What can it do?"

The glare Barry shot him at the word "it" looked awfully annoyed for someone who was supposed to be in fear for his life, and Len raised an imperious eyebrow back. 

“Tests can’t really tell you that,” Santini said, patronizing enough that Len cut him a warning look. He put his hands up, an easy surrender. “...as you know,” he tacked on, mollifying. “I’ll tell you, though. He burnt through the first two pairs of cuffs we put on him. Whatever it is, he’s packing heat.” 

Len snorted. There were understatements, and there were understatements. The man had hooked a great white shark and thought he was selling an unusually bitey tuna. 

It gave Len exactly the information he’d needed to know, though. He hadn’t really thought Barry’s identity had been compromised, not with the way Santini had shown up alone, unarmed, and without several other bidders in tow.

He expected some kind of cheek from Barry, a tilted head that said “I told you so,” muzzle or not. Maybe even Barry pushing to his feet once Len got close enough, overly confident that Len would uncuff him and the game would be up. 

But Barry only tipped his head back to hold Len’s gaze as he sauntered toward him, and he didn’t stir from where he was kneeling. 

Len ignored the clear attempt at eye contact and began pacing a wide circle around him, appraising. It left Barry with the option to either twist to follow him or give up, and Len had to tamp down a smirk at the churlish way Barry snorted under the muzzle as he swung his head around to face forward again.

Up close, though, Len’s amusement began to evaporate. Barry didn’t look like he could stand. 

Power dampener cuffs were clamped tight around his narrow wrists, as expected. Homemade, but not shoddily so—Santini was an ambitious amateur. Bruises spanned the range from purple-black to fading yellow-green, the Flash’s missing week accounted for. 

Even with their more recent, less murder-y history, he expected Barry to have enough of a survival instinct to tense when Len passed behind him, some kind of instinctual response to having his back to someone who had once made it his life’s mission to kill him. 

Instead, as soon as Len’s path put him between Barry and Santini, Barry relaxed.  

Len’s feet stilled without permission from his brain. He waited for the trick, but none came. The longer he watched, the slower Barry’s too-sharp shoulder blades rose and fell, breath evening out, chin sinking by degrees towards his chest, like he’d finally allowed a week’s worth of exhaustion to catch up to him at once. 

Like he finally thought he was safe. 

Something dangerously close to alarm spiked through Len’s chest at the thought, and it took everything in him to repress the instinct to rear back a step. 

He shoved the panic down instead, held it under until it drowned, and got ahold of himself. The annoyance that bloomed in the aftermath, on the other hand, was welcome. 

Barry and his stupid, endless, goddamn faith that Len was a good man. He’d always trusted him too much. But up until now, Len had had the plausible deniability that it was only because Barry was counting on his powers in the event that Len did betray him.

Now, he was faced with the unfortunate reality that things were far worse than he’d let himself believe. It was his fault, really. Barry trusted too easily; it was an immutable part of who he was. Len had watched people wriggle close enough to Barry to sink their knives in his back too many times to count. None of it made a difference, not in the long term. 

But usually, Barry seemed to limit himself to second chances, even if he did give them out too freely. There were plenty of people in Iron Heights—hell, in the ground—who had used that second chance to take another stab at him, only to find that Barry’s patience had hard limits. 

Len, on the other hand, had let himself become something unacceptable. An exception. From the moment he’d failed to shoot Barry with his father’s thumb on the trigger that could’ve killed Lisa, he’d become a permanent lesser of two evils. Len didn’t even know what chance he was on, but he had passed second long ago.

Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, people said. That was Len: Barry’s devil of choice, every time. Len had enjoyed it for a while, no sense in lying to himself about that. He liked the snarls of annoyance when he turned the cold gun on Barry’s other problems, let it stroke his ego that Barry had chosen him over them. 

But he’d let it go too far. Because Barry, it seemed, had forgotten a crucial part of what that saying meant. He’d forgotten Len didn’t play on the side of the angels. 

Lucky for him, Len was going to enjoy reminding him. 

Len forced himself to move again. His gaze lingered on the bruises as he finished circling Barry, despite his best efforts. The worst of it was centered on Barry’s left shoulder, where a hazy ring of deep purple suggested a dislocated—and subsequently relocated—shoulder. He also had a nasty bruise ricocheting over several ribs, and Len watched him breathe for a careful moment. A slow, measured inhale, then a slight hitch and quick, almost involuntary exhale; at least one of them was broken. 

Len’s carefully curated annoyance was already simmering rapidly and unacceptably toward anger when he caught sight of the marks wrapped around Barry’s upper arm. He’d missed them at first glance, easily lost next to the darker mottling from the dislocated shoulder. But the shape of it was unmistakable: four parallel lines around the strong curve of his bicep—a handprint. 

Someone else’s handprint. 

Len caught the thought by the throat before it made him round on Santini. He shoved the thought, snapping and hissing, back into the possessive corner of his mind it had escaped from, and barred the door after it. 

Barry’s surrender had knocked something off-kilter in Len’s brain, sent boxes he’d kept carefully bolted shut spilling open with the impact. Barry may have been his problem, but that was the only “his” that he was. 

And Barry was only his problem because he’d got himself caught by a two-bit amateur with some jerry-rigged tech. A few bruises were the least he deserved; the only reason he was alive was because that two-bit amateur had dumped him at Len’s feet and not someone else’s.

Still, a nasty thought was churning in the back of Len’s mind, and he had to put both hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for the cold gun. He wanted an honest answer out of Santini, not whatever he thought Len wanted to hear. The truth mattered; he needed to know how many pieces the man would be leaving the warehouse in.

“Looks a little worse for wear,” Len drawled, forcing his tone light and sardonic. “Got a discount for damaged goods?”

“Aw, fuck off,” Santini lobbed back, oblivious and good natured. “So he got a little banged up in transit. I told you, he didn’t like the cuffs. He dislocated his own shoulder trying to get out of ‘em. Not my fault. Hell, I put it back in for you.” 

“Not what I was talking about.” Len slid a pointed glance down Barry’s body—miles of freckled skin, very little else—then looked back at Santini. He didn’t lift an eyebrow; he didn’t have to. 

“Oh, the underwear?” Santini scoffed. “I deal in weapons, Cold, not skin. Too messy. Kid’s got every stitch of clothing and virtue he had when I found him, swear on my mother. Besides, he’s not my type.”

The generous two-handed gesture Santini made in front of his own chest didn’t impress Len, but it was crude enough that he took him at his word. He’d suspected as much, regarding the clothes. Barry may have been stupid enough to get himself caught by a meta-snatcher, but he wasn’t stupid enough to get caught and stay in the Flash suit. Whatever trap he’d stumbled into, he’d must’ve had time to throw the suit into some dark corner. No wonder his team hadn’t been able to track him down. 

That unpleasant matter behind them, Len rolled his shoulders back, settling in for another slow circle around Barry. The business portion of the evening was wrapping up, at least as far as he was concerned. He had the information he needed from Santini, and all that was left was to remind Barry that if the meta-snatcher was the frying pan, he was the fire.

If his first perusal had been business, the second was… well. Call it an advance on the clean-up fee he was going to charge Barry for handling Mr. Virtue over there. 

Barry lifted his head as Len started to circle again, tilted it slightly in unspoken question. The muzzle was inspired, Len would give Santini that. Barry had sure as hell never held his tongue for so long in Len’s presence of his own volition. 

Len could hear the list of complaints he’d be in for once he took it off: thanks for leaving the cuffs on for so long, those were comfortable—you know, they sell this new technology nowadays, it’s called an area rug—probably with a dig about his age, while he was at it. 

Len banished the thoughts and the grin that was threatening. Christ, maybe Barry was right. He was getting soft if he was laughing at just the idea of Barry crabbing at him. 

He reached for his earlier determination, instead. He tilted his head with a collector’s eye as he tightened the circle, close enough to touch. 

Barry really did have freckles everywhere, more than Leonard had imagined in the occasional privacy of his own thoughts. Constellations of them between the colorful galaxies of bruises painted over his leanly-muscled shoulders, his chest, stomach, carelessly parted thighs. There was even a pair of them right on the dimples of his lower back, where Len’s thumbs would’ve fit like the space had been made for them. 

It was a tempting thought. Pressing his own claim into Barry’s body, maybe covering up that hand-shaped bruise with one of his own. He was the one playing big bad wolf now, after all. And with both of them dressed for the part: Len, with the fur collar of the parka brushing his jaw, and Barry in those little red shorts. They left absolutely nothing to Len’s imagination, a delicious payoff to years of idle wonderings about what the Flash wore under that suit.

Something of the thought must’ve shown on Len’s face, because Barry looked decidedly less patient when Len caught his eye again. He glanced pointedly back behind himself, then back up again, as if Len weren’t perfectly aware that he wanted the power dampener off.  

Barry wasn’t the only impatient one. Santini clapped once, businesslike, and began walking closer. “You just window shopping today, or—?”

Len cut him off with a look, winning him back silence and space as Santini course-corrected with a gracious “after you” gesture and ceded ground again. 

A week in a cage clearly hadn’t been enough to break Barry’s pride, let alone his spirit. The muzzle was probably the only thing that had kept the meta-snatchers from realizing who he was. Barry would’ve snarked their ears off no matter what they did to him; he’d taken too many hits to be afraid of a little pain. And even with how stupid Santini was, the bared teeth and complete contempt would’ve added up to Central’s apex predator eventually.

The thought was a butane lighter to the sparks of arousal in Len’s veins. It was unfortunate that he wouldn’t be able to take the muzzle off while Santini was still breathing down their necks. He would’ve liked to see the fear in his eyes when he realized the enormity of the mistake he’d made. Delivering the Flash bound and gagged to the one man in the city who had something of a gentleman’s agreement with him…

Len hummed, a little wistful, as he reminded himself that said gentleman’s agreement precluded him from hauling Barry up to sit in his chair and slitting Santini’s throat at his feet. 

But he let the idea of it linger, knew that it would darken his eyes as he skimmed another lingering look down Barry’s body. 

And there, finally—a hint of wariness in Barry’s eyes when Len bothered dragging his gaze up from the dark hair that trailed temptingly down Barry’s lower stomach and disappeared under his waistband. Beginning to remember, maybe, that Len didn’t work for free. 

Len pushed his advantage while he had Barry off-balance. He drew his hands from his pockets, slowly, casually, and held them up at Barry’s eye level. He was wearing gloves, as he always did when conducting business. No point in keeping the cold gun strapped to his thigh if he wasn’t going to be ready to use it. The gloves were a helpful and very visible reminder of that.  

When he was sure he still had Barry’s attention—and he did, something unreadable passing across Barry’s eyes as they darted between Len’s hands—Len turned one hand toward himself, brought the other to its fingertips, and then slowly, one finger at a time, began teasing the glove off. 

Barry tracked the movement with his eyes without prompting, giving Len a quickly-dismissed impulse to reward him. A quizzical furrow formed between his brows, and he stole a single glance up and risked a quick, faint tilt of his head to one side. Confused, yes, but not combative. The difference between “What are you doing?” and “What the hell are you doing?”  

It was Len’s turn to feel an annoyed burn of impatience. Barry was on his knees in front of a convicted killer, bound and gagged and stripped to his skin, and Barry still thought this was all part of a plan. Len had killed three men in front of Barry—and counting. The only plan he had now was finding out how far that stupid, blind trust could bend until it broke.

Len finished drawing the glove off slowly, and in the quiet of the room, nothing but the distant sounds of the river rolling past outside, he was certain Barry heard the rasp of leather over skin. 

Barry’s attention fractured as Len watched. His gaze flicked up from the glove for a single, distracted glance at Len’s eyes. Just below the line where the muzzle dug into the underside of Barry’s jaw, his throat bobbed on a swallow. 

Good, Len thought. Nervous was the first step toward suspicious, and suspicious might just keep Barry alive. 

Len looked away with easy disinterest, settling his attention to Barry’s unbruised shoulder. Barry sat up straighter as Len reached out with the glove in his hand, a hitch in his breath visible in the stuttering rise of his bare chest. 

When Len laid the glove out on the bare, unmarked skin there, Barry twitched like Len had stuck him with a knife.

Almost getting it, Len mused. Ignoring the urgent, searching flicker of green eyes in his direction, Len reached out with his newly bare hand and rested the tip of one finger just under the corner of Barry’s jaw. 

The black leather there was butter soft and warm from Barry’s skin. Just as slowly as he’d pulled off the glove, Len stroked the finger up the line of Barry’s jaw, following the sharp edge of it through the muzzle. Only then did he slide his gaze back to Barry’s to watch the emotions dart through those pale eyes. Confusion, yes, then surprise, with another sharp inhale. And then, with the first flush of healthy color to Barry’s face since he’d been dragged in, understanding. 

Yahtzee, Len thought with a smirk. 

He didn’t give Barry a chance to pull away. He caught him with two fingers under the edge of the muzzle, hard, knuckles snug against his windpipe, and jerked his chin up.

Barry jolted with the movement, full-body, back arching to accommodate the sudden, demanding angle of his neck, the glove tumbling to the ground. Eyes wide, he made a sound behind the muzzle that might’ve been Len’s name if he’d been able to open his mouth enough to say it. 

Somewhere behind Barry, Santini started to object, but he shut himself up before Len had to look his way again. Likely Mick had warned him off, a pointed hand on the heat gun’s handle, or the man had just remembered who he was dealing with. 

Len held Barry there at attention, letting him hang off the hook of his fingers. Heady wasn’t a strong enough word for it. It was a level of control he hadn’t imagined even back before Barry became Barry, when the Flash was a problem to be solved and not a single facet of a more fascinating, infuriating whole. The hero of Central City helpless at his feet, stripped of that golden cloak of lightning he wore everywhere like armor… 

And still not fighting Len an inch. 

Barry’s chest heaved, breath coming quick and shallow, that broken rib apparently the furthest thing from his mind. When Len met Barry’s gaze, his own eyes narrowing in frustration, Barry’s were stunned and breathless. But still, no fear there. 

Agitated, Len crooked his fingers tighter, forcing Barry’s chin up another inch. Barry’s lashes fluttered—maybe feeling that rib now, after all—and Len watched the muscles in his thighs flex as he nearly forced him up onto his knees.

Fight back. 

Barry didn’t so much as twist in his grip, eyes half shut. With Len’s fingers hooked under the edge of the mask, he could feel the heat of Barry’s breaths, nearly panting now. His face and throat were stained pink, exertion clearly catching up to him, and Len wondered if the mask was starting to cut off air after all. 

He loosened his grip and allowed Barry to relax back onto his heels. Barry’s breathing stayed ragged anyway, blush touching the top of his chest as Len frowned at the unreadable expression in his eyes, gone round and almost glassy. 

When Len slipped his fingers free of the mask, Barry didn’t move an inch, head tipped back where Len had left it. 

Len’s patience snapped, curling his gloved hand into a fist at his side. He could’ve snapped Barry’s neck in less than a second, bared to him like that, all fragile skin and sharp tendons. It would’ve been easy as breathing, and there would’ve been nothing that Barry’s powers or his little team could’ve done about it. 

Len took a sharp step forward, closing the rest of the distance between them. It brought the front of his hips nearly flush with the muzzle, his boots between Barry’s knees, which were falling open a little further with every uneven breath. 

It was—too much, frustration at the completely unearned trust, frustration that Barry had been reckless enough to get himself caught, both tangling confused with frustration at Barry. That even stripped and submissive on his knees in front of Len, offering him his throat, he was still the one goddamn thing Len wanted and couldn’t have. 

Len should have conceded that his self-restraint was clinging on by a thread. He should have taken a step back, drawled something droll and amusing, and ended the night with his sanity intact. 

Instead, Len curved a hand around either side of Barry’s neck and stroked them upwards slowly, deliberately.

How many ways could someone kill you just like this, Barry? 

Barry’s throat worked under his hands and he shivered, hard, even as he tipped his head back further, giving Len more room to take advantage of. Barry made another, fainter noise behind the muzzle, half-swallowed as his throat bobbed. 

One point to Len. Even Barry couldn’t miss the threat of Len’s fingertips pressed against the fragile bones of his neck. 

Len lifted them to the edge of Barry’s jaw, followed the line of the straps around his ears, and then reached forward to trace the leather up until his fingers met at the buckle on the back of his head.

The movement brought the parka up on either side of Barry’s head, caging him in, hopefully adding to the claustrophobia of having Len so completely in his space. Len hooked a finger under the loop of leather where it passed through the buckle. He paused there, poised to pull it tighter, and was about to close his hand around the strap and tug when Barry did the one thing he wasn’t counting on. 

He gave in. 

All of the last remaining fight went out of those narrow shoulders at once, nearly unbalancing Len where he’d been bracing his wrists on the steady line of them. 

Instead of using the opportunity to duck away—point made, Snart, let me out of this thing—Barry only swayed deeper into the circle of Len’s arms. Before Len could jerk backwards, half-certain that Barry was finally passing out—Barry brushed closer and rested his forehead against Len’s lower stomach. 

For the space of two heartbeats, Len’s mind went perfectly blank. And then he realized, with a level of disbelief so incredulous that he could feel it bleeding against his will into respect, what Barry had just done. 

He’d called Len’s bluff. 

No suit, no speed, no backup, bound and gagged and as powerless as Len ever could have hoped to have him, and Barry had called his goddamn bluff. 

Chips down, cards on the table, there was nothing else to do—Len took a step back. 

Cold air rushed back between their bodies. Even with that dampener keeping his powers in check, Barry must’ve been a hundred degrees, and Len’s jaw ached against the loss of his heat instantly. 

Barry fell back onto his heels, and Len didn’t wait for him to get his bearings. He hooked a finger through one of the ear loops, forcing the last shreds of anger into the movement, and jerked his head back up.

For the first time all night, Barry didn’t jolt to meet his gaze. Instead, he let three full seconds tick past before he lifted his eyes, as if looking up had been his idea all along. Hair disheveled, pupils nearly swallowing the thin green ring of his irises—

Barry smirked at him. 

It was unmistakable, muzzle be damned, eyes narrowing in such viciously smug satisfaction that Len was torn between shoving him away or dragging him into a dark corner.

Len tightened his grip in the edge of the muzzle, on the brink of deciding, when a low whistle cut through the room. 

“Well, shit. You really have got a way with ‘em, huh?” 

Santini’s voice was an unwelcome reminder of the unfinished business Len had to attend to, and he dragged his gaze away from Barry only after a dark look, promising him that he’d deal with him next.  

“Or maybe just with this one in particular,” Santini continued, grinning like he and Len had agreed on something. “Funny thing—he finally stopped burning through those cuffs when he overheard me tell my crew I was considering Cold as a buyer.”

Len slid his gaze back to Barry. Barry, who was looking anywhere but Len, apparently deeply interested in hearing anything Santini had to say for the first time since he’d dragged him through Len’s doors. Barry, who was still breathing hard and blushing to his roots. Barry, who was trying to draw his knees together even with Len still standing in between them. 

“Did he, now?” Len asked. 

The question wasn’t aimed at Santini, but he answered anyway. 

“Mmm-hmm.” He rocked back on his heels, inclined his head to Len in a pantomime of tipping a hat. “You got a reputation for looking after yours, after all. He must’ve thought you’d have some use for him or another.” He flashed a salacious grin; his objections to the ‘skin game’ clearly ended where his sales instincts began. “I figured maybe the feeling was mutual, and you’d appreciate first dibs on the sale.”

Lips pulling into a sharp, predatory smirk, Len lifted the toe of one boot and planted it on the inside of Barry’s thigh. “I’m considering it.” 

Len pushed Barry’s legs apart with ease. Barry’s color deepened, and he jerked his head like he had any chance in hell of jarring Len’s hand loose from the strap of the muzzle now. Len clicked his tongue in a light, mocking reprimand, and Barry flashed him a glare for it, even as he stopped twisting under his grip. 

He didn’t fight it when Len drew his head to one side, far enough to give him an unimpeded view down the front of his body. The blush stretched halfway down his chest, past nipples that were hard and peaked like Len had just spent an hour teasing them with his tongue. He didn’t need to nudge Barry’s thighs wider to see the thick, heavy outline of his cock straining at the front of the red shorts, but he did it anyway, and was rewarded when it twitched at the demanding press of his boot.  

“I’ll take him,” Len drawled, and Barry’s hips hitched forward as Len guided his legs apart another inch, pulling the thin material taut over his groin.

Across the room, Santini laughed. “I haven’t even told you how much.”

“Not paying.” Len didn’t bother looking up; Barry had lifted his gaze to him again, and Len was going to need a more compelling reason than a low level Santini to look away from the impatient heat in his eyes. “Mick?” 

Mick strode past them without a glance. Santini took one stumbling step backwards, then did the first smart thing he’d done all day: turned heel and ran.

Something in Len’s smirk made Barry blink, brow furrowing. He said something behind the muzzle, chin lifting in a way he probably thought was authoritative, and came across entirely the opposite on his knees. 

Len had heard the words “No killing” come out of that mouth enough times to recognize it from cadence alone, but he tugged Barry up by the muzzle instead, until he got the message and stumbled to his feet. 

“Didn’t catch that,” Len drawled. 

Barry looked ready to argue, as if he weren’t half-wrecked already, skin flushed, hair wild. But he did a distracted double-take when Len shrugged out of his coat, and his gaze went dark and intent as it slid down the dark clothes he was wearing underneath, shouts behind him forgotten.

“You can fill me in later,” Len said, turning away. He shucked his belt as he sauntered toward his chair, let the buckle ring when he dropped it to the concrete. 

Barry was still standing indecisively in the middle of the room when Len settled into the chair with a comfortable sprawl, legs spread, boots wide. His gaze caught on the thick press of Len’s cock, hard against his jeans, and Len flashed his teeth at him in something too sharp to be a smile.

“Got somewhere to be, bolt cutters are in the workshop.” Len indicated a door to the side with a tip of his head, even as he moved his hand to the front of his jeans. “If not...” 

He rubbed his thumb over the button of his jeans, enjoying the pressure against his cock—one slow circle, another. The third time, he slid the button free. 

And Barry came willingly. 

[orange-imagines]

what do you think each of the mud dogs' love languages they find themselves most drawn to are? :0

Relationship: Romantic

A/N: I have so many opinions on this! I tried to keep these simple by saying the guys have the same giving and receiving languages, and I don't think it's far off tbf. AND to be clear: these guys love any form of affection, this is just what I imagine their favorites are.

Leonard

Physical touch and acts of service.

Although it's not as common as you may think, Len does have trouble expressing the way he feels through words sometimes, even when it comes to you. He gets easily lost inside his head with all his thoughts and feelings, so he naturally gravitates toward any form of affection that helps bring him down to earth with you. If he's ever having a rough day or needs some reassurance (though he has a hard time voicing when he does), you going out of your way to hold his hand or give him a hug will speak volumes to him. While he may not look like it to others, you know he loves surprise physical affection, and he's actually quite clingy. It's not even something he realizes, he just finds it very natural to enjoy sitting beside you wherever you two go, holding your hand, putting an arm around you, messing with your clothes or fixing your hair, coming up with any excuse to touch you. And when it comes to sitting next to you, he can get pretty bitter if someone else manages to snag a seat beside you while he has to sit in another spot further away. It doesn't help that this is something Mick does constantly (both on purpose and not- the little shit), but nobody's exempt from having Len glare at them the entire interaction because they stole his seat. If he's already had a bad day leading up to that, he may just forgo politeness in its entirety and shove the person out of the way in order to sit next to you, putting an arm around your shoulders and growling if the person tries to speak up. Yeah. He's only a little clingy.

Alternatively, he also enjoys you doing anything to help him with his responsibilities, whether that be chores around the apartment or lending a hand with the planning stage for the Mud Dogs' next heist. The latter can stress him out quite a bit, so if you want to bring him a cup of coffee and help him get his thoughts out by bouncing ideas back and forth, he'll just fall more and more in love with every word you say. You're definitely his preferred planning partner, and he's not afraid to admit it in front of the others.

His favorites moments of domesticity come from the two of you helping each other out with things at home. You washing dishes while he dries them, you cooking something and him stirring the pot for five seconds when you have to step away- any little mundane thing that would be boring if he wasn't doing it with you. He also really likes it if you hug him from behind while he's got his attention on something else, though he's likely to abandon whatever it is and start kissing you in the middle of the kitchen if you do. And that's how you guys have burned dinner on more than one occasion <3

Danny

Words of affirmation and quality time.

C'mon, he rattles off pet names and praises like he was born for it. This guy loves his words. Even after you two get together, he takes every opportunity to talk you up and flirt with you- you could be five years into your relationship and he'd still put in maximum effort to get you to go on dates with him. A good deal of his charm comes from his words, and although the things he says might seem a bit too smooth and rehearsed, you can tell he's not just saying things for the hell of it. He hangs on your every word when he's flirting with you, wanting to see if you like what he's doing or if he should change something up- and he doesn't act like this with anyone else. Once he has his sights set on someone romantically, they've got his full attention, and they and they alone are subjected to all his cheesy pickup lines and tooth aching flattery. Even outside of his flirting, he's very sweet and open with what he thinks about you, so there's nothing to stop him from giving you compliments and praise on the day-to-day, whether it's about how you look, things he likes about your personality/how your mind works/how you interact with him and the others, he's almost always got a kind word to say about you. He will run his mouth nonstop if you let him.

He also finds the time he spends with you very important, especially when it's just the two of you (he loves the boys, but sometimes he just wants quality time with his partner). He loves seeing you come home in the evening and being able to ask you about your day, or when the two of you can sit on the couch together and just unwind in each others' company. He also really appreciates physical affection during moments like this, either getting to trace patterns on your hand or play with your hair. He'd spend the whole night awake if it meant you were laying on his lap and telling him about your day while he ran and hand through your hair and listened to you for hours.

Mickey

Quality time, physical touch, and gift giving.

The thing about Mick is that he almost always wants to be in your space. If you have a bubble and need moments where he isn't right next to you all the time, please tell him and you can work it out, because otherwise he'll practically be in your lap at any given opportunity. He just loves getting to hang out with you and be physically close to you while he does. If you guys are spending some time alone in the apartment (gossiping, eating, almost killing each other over video games) and he gets to lay in your lap, wrap himself around you, or even just hold your arm or hand, he's completely satisfied. It's a routine that makes him feel very safe and loved, and any reassurance that you love him + want to be with him is best given in this form. He appreciates being told both those things, but to him, actions speak louder than words. Especially when he's so used to people saying one thing and doing the opposite- he likes that you can prove you actually want to be with him by...being with him. Yeah, he has pretty low standards sometimes.

Another thing that'll come up throughout your relationship is gift giving. While he isn't a fan of the standard model of this (he doesn't like receiving fancy or expensive gifts, and he isn't likely to give them unless it's something he's stolen), he really, really enjoys finding knick knacks around the Hidden City and bringing them back to you because he thought of you when he saw them. These are always things that have no real value: a figurine of a character you like that he got from the dump, a piece of glass in your favorite color, a cool rock, etc. But they all came about by him actively thinking of you and remembering things you told him about yourself, so they're very sweet! He always has the biggest grin on his face when he hands them over to you, so if you like them, it'll make him even happier. And if you ever want to return the favor by scavenging for something worthless but extremely personal for him, he'll keep it forever and won't let anyone touch it (not even you. He trusts no one but himself with it. That's his prized possession).

[kitkatt0430]

17, 33, 35, 44, 50 for OTP Asks (coldflash) please

17.) Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

Hmmm, this is a tough one. I think it's something they both do, but who does it most?

Barry definitely has a kink for being manhandled and taken care of. He's constantly having to be the hero and on top of things and so having Len take charge, pull him close and demand kisses... it's nice to just give in. He trusts Len whether it's with something small and romantic like this or, uh... other things. ;) So Len enjoys taking advantage of this in order to draw Barry close and kiss him whenever he wants.

Conversely, Len likes that despite being a twig in human form (until his thirties anyway), Barry can still push him around if he wants. Len definitely enjoyed being shoved around by Barry in S2, though he was definitely wishing for a kiss there. So I think his preference is less being pulled in by Barry and more by being shoved against a hard surface and crowded in by Barry, but he does enjoy getting pulled forward, into Barry's arms, and kissed senseless too.

I think, ultimately, Len is more likely to pull Barry into a kiss, but it's definitely something that goes both ways.

33.) Who's the better cook?

Barry. Len's not a lethal chef or anything like that and he enjoys cooking with Barry because it's something he's doing with Barry. But for it's own sake, Len's more of an 'eat what's convenient' type. Whereas Barry is very much a 'shows love through food' type.

Mick supports the relationship in part because he's no longer the only one making sure Len doesn't wind up with scurvy for avoiding his veggies.

35.) Who's more artistic?

Probably Barry. He can sketch really well and I can see him doing the ADHD cycle through various artsy hobbies. (I do this. Best to keep the projects in what are doable chunks for me or something I can put down and pick up again a few months or a year down the line.)

I think Lewis really stunted Len's artistic talents. He strikes me as the kind of father who sees his son taking art classes or home ec and gets super homophobic about it. Len expresses his creative side through his heist plans. He's maybe starting to allow his creativity roll into creating things - starting from learning how to repair and then recreate the Cold Gun to adapting what he learned to create ice grenades and the like. But overall, Barry's much more of the artsy sort.

44.) Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

Barry is absolutely the dancer. We see that in canon with him dancing around in the kitchen in his boxers making breakfast. He will dance around and sing to music on the radio/streaming on his phone when he cooks alone - especially if he's cooking something special for Len. Romantic dinner? Barry is extra bouncy while he cooks and sets up a candle lit dinner.

Len won't admit it, but he finds it really charming how Barry romances him and he does try to romance Barry in return. But when Barry's dancing around in the kitchen, he definitely loves to stand back and watch. Just kind of take in that this ridiculous man loves him so much.

50.) who's more likely to do something out of spite?

I'd say initially it's Len. He's used to pushing people away and he expects eventually he'll push Barry away too and gets snippy and spiteful about things. But Barry's stubborn and as Len realizes that it'd take a hell of a lot to run Barry off, he starts to relax and accept that what they have is actually going to last and his tendency to say spiteful things while angry tapers off.

Barry isn't at first because he's had to learn to be very careful with his relationships and choose his battles with Joe. He'd argue to hell and back about his dad's innocence, but he was very afraid of Joe not wanting him anymore so he got in the habit of swallowing down his feelings about things until they boil over. He's a lot more likely to do this when something's triggered his trauma reactions. The first time Len realizes that Barry flipped out over something relatively minor with him and talking it out later reveals it was really because Barry was already on edge over something Team Flash did that triggered him that his team dismissed as inconsequential? Len absolutely reads them the riot act about the way they treat Barry's mental health so dismissively.

I think once Barry's trauma responses start being taken seriously and his boundaries are better respected, the spiteful responses become less likely to show up too. That said, I think maybe he still struggles with it more than Len.

[littlecrow-rogue]

Trough the Lens: A Mötley Crüe fanfiction - Chapter One

Hi!

So the other day I made a post aboute writing a Mötley Crüe Nikki Sixx x OC fanfiction.

I did it!

I am bit nerves posting it cause english is not my first language so this was a bit hard, and even tho I asked some help from Google and transolaters to fix my grammer mistakes probobly there are still some mistakes left or wrong usage of words. But I hope it's still enjoyable.

If you read this have fun and let me know if you think and if you'd like a second chapter for it.

XoX - V

Chapter 1: "The Beginning"

The band members of Mötley Crüe sat huddled around a cluttered table in Nikki's flat, the air thick with anticipation and the remnants of their brainstorming session. Empty beer bottles mingled with scattered papers, evidence of their search for the perfect promotional plan and a testament to the chaos of their creative minds.

Tommy tapped his fingers impatiently against the table, his dark eyes darting restlessly around the room in search for inspiration. The weight of their first gig hung heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the task at hand.

Suddenly, Nikki's voice shattered the silence, cutting through the haze of uncertainty that had settled over them.

"Alright, guys, time to get down to business," he declared, his tone commanding attention.

Vince lounged back with a smirk, tossing out a suggestion that earned a mixture of amusement and disdain

"A little spray-painted graffiti on the side of Sunset Boulevard could drum up some serious buzz”

Nikki shook his head with a wry smile.

"As much as I appreciate the guerrilla marketing approach, we need something more polished," he said, running a hand through his tousled hair as he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on his bandmates.

Mick nodded in agreement.

Nikki arched an eyebrow, his gaze locking onto Tommy’s with a curious intensity.

"Do you have any ideas, Tommy?"

A mischievous grin spread across Tommy's face as he leaned back in his chair, confidence radiating from every pore.

"Actually, I do," he declared, capturing the attention of his bandmates.

"My sister, Katie, she's a photographer. She could help us make some flyres with some killer shoots."

The mention of Tommy's sister piqued the band's interest. They had heard stories about Katie Lee, Tommy mentioned her a lot, but none of them had ever met her.

Mick, ever the pragmatist, cut to the heart of the matter with a single question.

"Is she any good?" he asked, his skepticism evident in his gravelly voice.

Tommy's response was immediate.

"She's incredible," he declared, his voice brimming with pride.

"She's been working as a photographer in downtown LA for the past two years, but she has been obsessed with photography since we were kids. Trust me, guys, she's the real deal. "

Vince grinned.

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go pay Katie a visit and see if she can work her magic for us."

As their car glided to a halt in front of SutterLux Studios, the first thing that caught their eyes was the imposing sign, polished to a mirror like perfection, a testament to the studio's prestige as it boldly announced its name to the world. It stood as a beacon of elegance amidst the bustling cityscape, its modern architecture a symphony of clean lines and sleek facades that mesmerized passersbys. Every detail, from the smooth curvature of the walls to the precise symmetry of the windows, spoke of craftsmanship and artistry that left an indelible impression on all who saw it. Surrounding the entrance, a meticulously curated garden, a lush oasis of greenery, provided a tranquility to the building's exterior.

As they stepped out of their car, the band's rock and roll style clashed brilliantly with the polished surroundings. Leather jackets, ripped jeans, and a smattering of tattoos made for a striking contrast against the backdrop of elegance.

Stepping into the studio, they were greeted by a receptionist girl seated at a marble-topped desk, her workspace packed with notepads and notebooks in neat order wich spoke volumes about her attention to detail. With a shy smile playing on her lips, she chirped a warm welcome, while her eyes scaned the group of men before her.

"Welcome to SutterLux! What can I help you?” her voice was light and airy.

Tommy leaned casually against the desk, flashing his trademark grin as he addressed her.

"Hey there, we're here to see Katie Lee. Is she available?" he inquired, his voice laced with confidence.

The receptionist's bashfulness only added to her charm as she inquired about their appointment, her eyes flitting towards the calendar as she searched for any openings.

"I'm her brother, and I just want to talk to her if she's free," Tommy explained with a nonchalant shrug, his charm evident in every word.

Recognition flickerd on the receptionist's face as she realized who Tommy was

"Oh, you're Katie's brother Tommy? She's mentioned you," she remarked, her shy tone melting into a warm, friendly demeanor.

"Let me see if she's available. Please take a seat. I'll be right back."

With a graceful gesture towards the plush black sofas on the other side, she disappeared into the depths of the studio, leaving the band members alone in the lobby. The air crackled with anticipation as Vince, Mick, and Nikki exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what to expect when they finally met Katie Lee.

As the receptionist girl reappeared with Katie by her side, the room seemed to brighten with her presence. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of flames, framing her face with an aura of vibrant energy. Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous sparkle, and every step she took radiated confidence.

"Tommy!" Katie exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine delight as she enveloped her brother in a tight hug.

"What are you doing here?"

Tommy returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

"We came to see you, sis," he replied, pulling back to gaze at her with fondness.

"Who’s we?” she asked couriously as her gaze shifted to the other men standing behind Tommy, her smile widening at the sight of them.

"Nikki, Vince, and Mick," Tommy introduced, gesturing to each member of the band in turn. "Guys, this is my sister, Katie."

The band members exchanged greetings with Katie, their admiration for her evident in their eyes. Her easygoing demeanor and magnetic charm left an impression on each of them, drawing them in with her infectious energy.

"Do you have a little time to spare for us sis?” Tommy asked eagerly.

"I hope so.” Katie replied with a grin.

"Sam, when's my next client scheduled to arrive?" Katie turned to the receptionist girl, who quickly returned to her desk.

Sam scanned the schedule and checked the clock on the wall before responding,

"You've got about an hour and twenty minutes until your next appointment."

Katie nodded thoughtfully.

"Great. In that case, why don't we head over to that coffee shop down the street? We can grab a table and chat," she suggested, turning back to the band with a warm smile.

"Sounds like a plan," Tommy cheered, his excitement matching hers as they left the building.

As Katie and the band strolled down the bustling streets of downtown LA, the city pulsed with an electrifying vitality and amidst the vibrant chaos, they sought refuge at a quaint corner table in a cozy café, where the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped them like a warm embrace.

After placing their orders, Nikki leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Katie.

"So, Katie, Tommy's been singing your praises as a kickass photographer," his voice as smooth as silk. "We're on the hunt for someone with your skills to help us make a splash with our upcoming gig."

Katie nodded, her interest piqued.

"I'm all ears," she replied, leaning back in her chair.

Tommy, unable to contain his excitement, leaned forward eagerly.

"We've headlining at the Starwood Club next month," he announced, a grin spreading across his face. "But we're not just looking to play; we want to rock the joint!"

"And to light up that stage, we need some badass posters, flyers, and all that jazz, something that draws  a lot of people in" Vince chimed in, his voice hyped.

Katie soaked up their vibe, a glint of excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Consider it done" she declared, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"But first could guys maybe show some of your music for me? Just to get a better image of Mötley Crüe.”

The band exchanged looks, a smirk playing on their lips.

"We'll crank up the amps and give you a taste," Tommy promised, a grin spreading across his face.

"You just got a backstage pass to our sonic circus," Nikki added, a playful twinkle in his eye.

"Why don't we invite you to my place? We've got a rehearsal space set up there, so you can experience what we're all about."

Katie's eyes gleamed with excitement.

"That sounds perfect," she exclaimed, a radiant smile gracing her lips.

"Then it's settled," Mick declared with a decisive nod. "We'll make our way to Nikki's place once we're done here."

With the first part of their plan solidified, the band and Katie lingered over their drinks, their conversation flowing with easy.

As the time drew near for Katie's next appointment, the group decided to escort her back to work. Upon the arrival, Katie vanished into the studio to finish her job for the day.

As the band settled into the reception hall, time seemed to stretch out before them, each minute feeling like an eternity as they waited with for Katie's return.

At long last, the door creaked open, and Katie emerged with a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"Sorry for the wait, guys," Katie apologized, her voice carrying a note of excitement as she joined the band.

"I'm ready to roll now."

With a renewed sense of anticipation, Katie and the band made their way to Nikki's car, the excitement practically crackling in the air around them. As they headed to the Sunset Strip, Katie couldn't suppress the thrill bubbling within her, eager to delve deeper into the realm of rock 'n' roll.

Arriving at Nikki's apartment building, Katie was greeted by a surge of excitement at the thought finally getting to know the band wich her brother was part of.

As Mötley Crüe and Katie entered Nikki's flat, they were greeted by a space that perfectly encapsulated the rock 'n' roll lifestyle. Posters of iconi musicans adorned the walls, while instruments were scattered haphazardly around the room. Amplifiers hummed softly in the background, hinting at the music that was created within these walls.

The furniture was a mix of vintage pieces and modern comforts, giving the space a lived-in yet stylish vibe. A plush couch sat against one wall, its cushions worn from years of use, while a sleek bar area beckoned from the corner, stocked with an impressive array of spirits.

Nikki led the group into the room with a grin, gesturing for them to make themselves at home. "Welcome to my humble abode, where the magic happens" he said, a twinkle in his eye turning to Katie

"Make yourself comfortable."

As Katie and the rest of the band settled in, Nikki made his way to the fridge, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Alright, folks, what'll it be?" he called out, opening the fridge door to reveal an assortment of beverages.

"Beer, wine, whiskey? You name it, I've got it."

The band members exchanged glances, a collective smirk crossing their faces.

"Surprise us, Nikki," Vince replied, a playful edge to his voice.

Nikki chuckled as he retrieved a selection of drinks from the fridge, passing them out to the group with a flourish. As the band settled in with their drinks, Nikki turned to Katie with a grin.

"Are you ready for your private show, Katie?" he asked, his eyes alight with anticipation.

Katie's face broke into a wide smile.

"Absolutely," she replied, excitement coursing through her veins as she leand back comfortably in the couch, drink in hand. With a casual ease, she propped her legs up on the coffee table, fixing her gaze on the band with eager anticipation.

With that the band took their place on the stage, wich was the other side of Nikki’s living room, and launched into their first song. The music was filling the room with its raw energy. Katie's eyes danced with delight as she listened, completely captivated by the electrifying performance unfolding before her.

Song after song, Mötley Crüe poured their hearts and souls into their music, each note resonating with passion and intensity. Katie couldn't help but be swept away by the sheer talent and charisma of the band, her appreciation for their music growing with each passing moment.

As the final chords faded into silence, Tommy and Nikki took their seats on either side of Katie, their faces flushed with exhilaration. Vince and Mick settled into the armchairs surrounding the coffee table, their expressions mirroring the sense of accomplishment that filled the room.

"So, Katie, what did you think?" Nikki asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Katie's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she took a sip of her drink, considering her response.

"I loved it," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

"Each song had its own unique energy"

With the mood buoyed by Katie's praise, she launched into her ideas for the flyers and posters, drawing inspiration from the music she had just heard.

The band members listened intently, nodding in agreement as Katie outlined her vision for the promotional materials.

"I love it," Vince exclaimed, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

"It sounds like you really understand our vibe and what we're all about."

Katie smiled, feeling a surge of pride at the band's reaction.

 "I'm glad you think so," she replied.

"I can't wait to get started and see what we can create together."

As the excitement of their collaboration filled the room, Katie and the band members of Mötley Crüe quickly settled on a date for the photoshoot.

"How about Saturday, two days from now?" Katie suggested, her eyes alight with enthusiasm.

The band members exchanged eager nods, they couldn’t wait to see Katie's vision come to life. "Sounds good to us," Nikki replied, a grin spreading across his face.

"We'll make sure we're ready to rock and roll."

With the date set and plans in motion, the group toasted to their upcoming photoshoot, excitement buzzing in the air. As they continued to chat and laugh late into the evening, Katie couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the creative journey that lay ahead.

As the evening wore on and the excitement of their collaboration began to wind down, the band members of Mötley Crüe started to make their exit.

Vince, with a mischievous glint in his eye, rose from his seat, his voice laced with playful banter.

"Alright folks, see you on Saturday. I'm off to see my girl" he declared, his announcement met with teasing cheers from the rest of the group.

Shortly there after, Mick followed suit, offering a nod of farewell before vanishing into the nocturnal embrace of the city.

Tommy glanced at his watch, realizing it was time to pick up his new flame.

"I better get going, my date is waiting" he said, flashing a grin at the others.

"New girl?” Katie asked quirosly.

"We will see” he answered with a huge smile still plaster on his face

"But before I head out, Nikki, do you mind taking Katie home?"

 "I'd be happy to make sure she gets home safely." Nikki nodded in agreement, a warm smile on his face.

Katie smiled gratefully

"Thank you, Nikki," she said

"I appreciate it."

With goodbyes exchanged Tommy dissapiered and soon after Nikki and Katie made their way down from the flat to Nikki's car, the cool night air greating them as they stepped out side. They exchanged casual banter as they walked, their laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings.

 "So, Nikki, where did you and my brother crossed paths?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Nikki's gaze drifted to the road ahead, a nostalgic smile gracing his lips as he recounted the story.

"Well, it was after I had a falling out with my former band's singer and decided to quit London," he began, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

"I was feeling pretty lost and unsure of what to do next."

He paused for a moment, lost in thought, before continuing.

"I found myself sitting in a diner, flipping through the ads of musicians looking to join a band," he explained.

"That's when Tommy walked up to me out of the blue."

A smile tugged at the corners of Nikki's lips as he recalled the memory.

"He was this cocky guy with wild hair and an even wilder personality," he said.

 "I remember him saying he had my poster on his bedroom wall” he laughed and Katie started giggeling next to him.

"And then he just seated himself infront of me and started twireling his drum sticks and as they say the rest is histroy”

Katie glanced over at Nikki, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"It's amazing how things just seem to fall into place sometimes," she remarked, her voice filled with admiration.

"It's like the universe has a way of bringing people together when they need it."

Nikki nodded in agreement, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Yeah, it's funny how life works out like that," he replied, his voice tinged with reflection. "Sometimes the most unexpected encounters can change the course of your life in ways you never imagined."

They fell into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, sharing stories and laughter as they made their way through the city streets. Before they knew it, they had arrived at Katie's apartment building, the glow of the streetlights casting a warm halo around them.

As Nikki pulled up to the curb, he turned to Katie with a smile.

"Well, here we are," he said, his tone lighthearted.

"Thanks for the company, Katie. I had a great time tonight."

Katie returned his smile, a sense of warmth and gratitude filling her chest.

"Thank you for the ride, Nikki," she replied, her voice sincere.

With a final wave goodbye, Katie stepped out of the car and watched as Nikki drove off into the night. As she made her way up to her apartment, a sense of contentment washed over her, grateful for the unexpected connection she had formed with Nikki and the band.

[silverview]

I love your tlw thoughts sm!! :D

I'm on like my sixth rewatch currently and I've been curious about how Chas seems to handle the "Mick" situation and I was wondering if you had any thoughts on that in particular?

aahh thank you so much!! ❤️❤️ that's such a good question! i will say as much as i have to say about it (very incoherent i'm afraid) + then would be VERY curious to hear your thoughts on the matter as well

it makes sense to me that chas doesn't react to the mick thing straight away. well, he tries to deny/avoid it, appropriately enough. he internalises the stress of it to avoid making it joe's problem. not necessarily the right or smart thing to do, but i genuinely think he is trying to be kind & generous by trying to ignore it. when he finally brings it up, it's reluctant – apologetic, even. he only mentions it because he can't help it anymore. i think he dislikes being (or seeing himself as) the sort of person who always has to say what he's thinking. and he feels bad for bringing down the weekend.

so, focusing specifically on the confrontation scene, as it turns out i have a lot of feelings about that (i mean how could i not, it's such a good scene). it's serving an important purpose wrt chas's characterisation and, because it's a very well-written episode, it's all in service of making the final twist more painful

firstly: "i don't mind. it's just that we normally tell each other when we're flirting with someone, and we laugh about it." just to make sure you know it's not the texting someone else that bothers him, it's the possibility that joe could be keeping a secret from him. because oh how very OPEN and TRUTHFUL they usually are with each other! how they always tell each other everything!

secondly, when he finally works up the courage to confront joe about it, he is .... i want to say gentle about it. he's not angry, he doesn't even speak loud enough for joe to hear him. he's sad, vulnerable, apologetic & clearly ready to forgive; all he wants is the truth. he confesses his own kiss with another guy, even though he could easily have gotten away with not saying anything, which i think is particularly significant for once again underlining the value he's placing on honesty & openness. and he instantly accepts the explanation joe gives him with no evidence. } all of which to say:

essentially what we're seeing here is chas reaching a character development apex. literally in that confrontation scene i think we see the culmination of his personal journey over the past nine (or eighteen, or forty-eight) years, where he has finally become the sort of person who will handle this situation in this specific way. (draw a parallel with reaching the penultimate/"depression" stage of grief, where it falls in the episode.) in a different context, it might be something to celebrate. on the positive side, he is no longer the angry person he was 18 years ago! he no longer lashes out! he has learned compassion and is willing to take responsibility for his own mistakes! and to look at it through a darker lens: joe has finally finished manipulating him into the perfect victim! narratively this scene is the end of the road for chas, there's nowhere else he has left to go except his finale

when he finds out mick is a woman, he says: "i've never been so happy." :) that's how you know the end is nigh of course. the betrayal isn't brutal enough unless it comes at the exact moment of maximum contentment, trust, and love. essentially the whole mick ordeal is there to test his trust in joe, to make sure it's finally 1000% solid and ready to be exploded

– by that i mean the script put it there to test him as a narrative device, but i suspect it was also an in-universe test/game. you're telling me joe has maintained this elaborate deception for years, and now suddenly he's leaving his phone lying around? he was doing it on purpose, to set chas up for the "worry -> relief & Peak Happiness -> ultimate betrayal" pipeline. absolute mad lad. someone capable of that has got to be INCREDIBLE in bed. makes you wonder what other little games he set up to torment chas over the years

[ummick]

Mick Schumacher On Fashion, Le Mans and Fronting Tommy Hilfiger's New Campaign

It's a big year for sports, as the Paris Olympics near, tennis champs prep for Wimbledon, and the Euros inch closer. In the midst of it all Tommy Hilfiger is getting in on the action with the release of an International Games collection. Refashioning timeless icons for the new generation, the collection is a modern interpretation of the brand's 1996 capsule collection released to celebrate the Olympics arriving in Atlanta, reworking track-ready styles including archival varsity jackets, rugby jerseys and basketball vests in Tommy's signature red, white and blue. Speaking on the new collection, Hilfiger says: "The sporting calendar sets the cultural pulse for the year, and 2024's shaping up to be amazing. We're building on our legacy of working with pioneers in sport and reimagining timeless American icons through an archival lens." To front the campaign, the US house has turned to the global sporting stage to curate a team of athletes who embody the brand's spirit, including All-Pro NFL wide receiver Stefon Diggs, college basketball guard Deja Kelly, star of the all-Japan skateboarding association Aori Nishimura, and Formula 1 driver and current member of Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team, Mick Schumacher. Ahead of the collection drop, in the conversation below we speak to Schumacher about his first memories of Tommy Hilfiger, his personal style, and prepping for Le Mans.

Ella Joyce: "What was it like working with Tommy Hilfiger? Do you have personal memories of the brand?" Mick: "It was great! Not only is it exciting to wear Tommy and to have attended the NYFW show with all the exceptional details, but to be a part of the campaign and the bigger brand story is just incredible. A personal memory for me is when the brand worked with Ferrari back in the day, before their current partnership with the Mercedes-AMG F1 Team. My dad used to bring back so much kit and, honestly, I was just running around as the best-dressed kid in school!" EJ: "How does the campaign resonate with you?" Mick: "I really believe Tommy was able to create something that brings both sport and style to the table. I'm sporty, I love to do my workouts and be active outdoors, and to be able to do that fashionably is so important. I was so happy to be part of this campaign with other athletes, too. It was amazing to get to know them better and see how their sport and personalities impact their individual styles." EJ: "Off the track, how would you describe your personal style?" Mick: "I think the best word would be 'changeable.' I love to experiment and try new things with my style. I think you can see this across my social media, but I would probably look different if you saw me on the street two days in a row. From a classic look to a more casual or baggy streetwear look, I love the creativity that comes with personal style. It's so fun."

EJ: "You're currently competing in the 2024 FIA World Endurance Championship. How's it going? What's coming up next for you?" Mick: "Yes, we just had our first race in Qatar, a ten-hour race! It was the first time I had to be on for that amount of time while learning and experiencing that type of race, but it was an interesting run. We learned a lot as a team. One of the cars even scored points, so it proves that we're on pace and the project is moving in the right direction, especially as everyone is gearing up for Le Mans." EJ: "Do you have any pre-race rituals?" Mick: "I don't, actually. It depends on how I'm feeling in the moment. If I'm nervous or stressed, or whatever it is, I'll always try to adapt to what's happening. Maybe one day I'm nervous so I have to work on calming down, and another day I'm too calm so I have to pump myself up. It all depends on the day."

EJ: "You're photographed alongside a host of other athletes for the campaign. How do you think your generation of athletes compares to generations which have come before?" Mick: "I think we are really different to athletes from the previous generation. Of course, social media and phones have made an impact, but it's also because we're so precise about what we're doing. We have strict training and a solid laid-out plan in front of us on how to achieve our desired results. We have so much research and information which leads our way, while back in the day it was more experimental." EJ: "America and collegiate heritage heavily inspire Tommy Hilfiger. Is there a specific place which inspires you?" Mick: "The racetrack. I've always been a part of it, from doing laps in a car to just being on the track. In terms of style, I've always been interested in fashion, most likely inspired by my dad at a young age; however, my girlfriend is heavily involved in the fashion world, so it's helpful when I need to know what looks good and what doesn't. Inspiration is all around, so it depends on where I look!"

[bluedalahorse]

Still thinking about Erik and Linda in that post I just reblogged, and how they show up in fic.

One thing I’m thinking about, is how I’ve never fretted over whether or not to add a tag for imperfect Linda, but I’m currently fretting about whether to add a tag for imperfect Erik, or what tags I should add to give people a heads up about him. I don’t know what that says about our collective response to those two characters, or say, how we view mothers vs older brothers and the roles they should play.

The other thing things brings up for me is how important (but how untalked about by fandom) point of view is in fanfic. I’m guessing most fanfic is written from Wilhelm’s point of view, when it isn’t written from Simon’s. From Wilhelm’s point of view, as long as we’re pre-s3, Erik is going to be a supportive older brother, the person who weathered life as a kid royal alongside him. Meanwhile, Linda is going to seem warm and kind to him, compared to Kristina. Wilhelm doesn’t have to live with Linda every day, so he might have a rosier view of her than he would otherwise.

As someone who generally writes from the POVs of Sara and August, however, Linda and Erik occupy much different spaces in their brain. Sara sees Linda as someone who didn’t leave Micke fast enough, who is constantly putting Sara’s little brother in a position to parent Sara and limit her independence. Of course Sara is going to resent that! And if I’m writing Linda in a fic from Sara’s POV, of course those traits are going to be framed through a different lens than if Wille were the POV character. In this canon divergence I’m writing, where Sara Eriksson (age 16 and playing hooky from her public school classes) shows up on Hillerska’s campus one day… well, of course Erik is going to interact with a working class girl very differently than he would members of his immediate family. And Sara’s not going to have the warm connection with him that Wilhelm does. To her, he is a face on the news, and not even a face she thinks is particularly cute.

August, meanwhile, has a complicated as fuck relationship with Erik. In light of season 3, a lot of fans ask how August went from being bullied by Erik and the third years to being friends with Erik and the third years. For the sake of fic writing and also understanding the show, I tend to see this less as a linear timeline where first year August went from Bullied to Accepted and more that all of these things were happening at once, because that does happen IRL in some relationships. In some ways Erik is August’s lifeline—the only family August has at school, and what’s more, August has convinced himself that other people only pay attention to him because Erik makes them include him sometimes. Meanwhile, however, Erik is putting August through a lot of bullying/hazing/torment with the intention of like, “oh, this is how we train you up as an acceptable upper class man.” Erik sees himself as doing the right thing because the men in his life have done this for him, and August sees it as care because it’s what his father did for him before he died but also… it’s stifling August and killing him. He’s in denial about it because confronting the fact that this is hurting him, and acknowledging that Erik is hurting him this way, makes August worried that he’d be completely alone. And he already feels alone in his grief.

Anyway. I really enjoy writing the mix of yearning and resentment that comes with that, even if it’s emotionally difficult.

In conclusion, a lot of the positive vs negative characterization of certain characters comes down to POV and I think that’s why we should talk about POV in fanfiction more. (Because it really is just. So delicious.)

[starry-eyed-extraterrestrial]

So I said I had a one shot in mind for if Nikki didn't make his usual Mick birthday tweet, and it's already quite late so I don't think it's happening (late in America anyway, over here it's already seven am the next day) so here's that angst fic I promised.

It's six thirty when Mick finally decides to open twitter. He's just had cake with Seriana that she made herself along with his favourite kind of pasta and earlier that same day they'd gone out on a bit of a nature walk together, no real words shared between them just comfortable silence and the enjoyment of each other's company. And now, with his love in the kitchen washing the dishes,it was time to look through all the birthday wishes he'd gotten on social media today and thank everyone for taking time out of their day to think about him and congratulate him on becoming even more ancient then he already was.

He squints his eyes then adjusts his glasses on his face and pulls his iPad off the dining room table and closer to his face to actually be able to read what the people said. Shit, he probably needed to renew his glasses soon and get a stronger lens. Besides that little annoyance, the birthday wishes make him very happy and he can't help the smile that slips onto his face at the sheer amount of people who care about an old fossil like him.

After looking through most of the messages and posts Mick gets his keyboard out and ready to make a tweet of his own. He types the message out using two fingers and posts it right away.

“Thank you everybody for the happy birthday luv. Also many many thank you's for liking my solo stuff as well. 

Peace and love back to all of you👽”

He feels so glad in this moment and leans back in his chair to  just take a second to appreciate everything he has and everything he's accomplished.

The easy smile is wiped from his face however when a tiny intrusive thought slips into his mind. He looks down at his tablet again. Should he look…

No, it was stupid Nikki would have tagged him like he does every year when he wishes him happy birthday and since he didn't see Nikki's post between any of the other birthday posts and messages he knows he's not getting one this year. Or likely any year after this with how pissed Nikki is at him.

Mick and Nikki are the same in a lot of ways, but in one place they differ. Mick gets over things quickly and Nikki may forgive but he never forgets. So it's safe to say that the years of Nikki's annual birthday posts for him are just lost to time forever. 

That thought makes him.. uncomfortable is the only way he can describe it, not sad exactly, he'd known what he was getting himself into with the lawsuit in the first place,he just feels kinda weird about the whole situation. 

Does this mean he shouldn't wish him a happy birthday this year either- would it be weird now? Would his birthday wish to Nikki feel more like a birthday wish from a stranger to him? Mick contemplates this, but not for very long as he pulls his tablet closer to his face again.

Just to be safe, Mick searches Nikki's name in the spacebar, he's typing a lot slower then he usually would, he knows that it's because he doesn't want to see. Doesn't want to confirm that their relationship is so frayed that Nikki can't even wish him happy birthday online, nevermind to his face by FaceTiming him for a minute.

He doesn't want to know that he and Nikki will most likely never be close again and that their relationship will most likely never return to even a quarter of what it was, even if they did make up. He and Nikki would become like Tommy and Vince, the two of them best friends at some point only to years later only really speak to each other for business reasons and in interviews to save face in public. He didn't want that for him and Nikki, but if it had to be so then…he supposes it has to be so. He's certainly not gonna go crawling back to Nikki and apologise for something he's not even in the wrong for.

When Mick finally opens Nikki's page, he's not surprised to see no mention of him and he suddenly feels very stupid for thinking that there would be any message waiting for him at all. He's suing them for Christ sake, Nikki's hardly gonna jump at the chance to even think about him let alone wish him a happy birthday. 

Mick decides that that's enough internet for him for one day. He sets the tablet down on the table and suddenly feels quite out of sorts. He then feels two warm arms wrap around his shoulders.

“Hey baby, what's wrong?” Seriana whispered in his ear, making chills go up his spine. He feels better almost instantly.

“Nothing now that you're here” he says and he knows it's cheesy and he can feel serianna roll her eyes in amusement at his half joke.

The rest of the night Mick doesn't even think about it. Why should he?There's nothing he can physically do to change the outcome he just received, it's his own fault that it's like this anyway, so why complain really. 

But later that night when he's in bed and midnight rolled around, he was up staring at the ceiling, letting the knowledge that he and Nikki weren't friends anymore sink in and when it does all he can think about is how he probably shouldn't send a birthday wish to Nikki on his birthday. 

He knows Nikki doesn't like it when strangers get his number and message him.

[gorogues]

Where do you think the Rogues are on the DC Morality Scale? Are they Like Red Hood, John Constantine or Starfire? Could you elaborate?

Unfortunately the Rogues run the gamut of morality, so this is a challenging question to answer! We've got Hartley, who grew so much over time that he even became a hero, people like Mick and James who've gone through periods of reform and genuine goodness but also moments of being a real bastard at times, guys like Len who have a strong moral code but no interest in regularly doing good…and guys who are deeply selfish and mean and would only do a good deed if there was something in it for them. Mark was planning to cut open his son to discover the secrets of his powers, although at least he eventually thought better of it and developed ambivalent feelings about the kid (he claimed he didn't care about Josh, and yet clearly did when the baby was killed by Inertia). But that's not a man with much of a moral code. Marco -- the version of him since the New 52 began -- seems to have a stronger moral centre, but he's been so loosely developed that it's hard to know what he thinks about most things.

The question is also complicated by the fact that some have really changed over time: as we discussed the other day, Evan started out with firm moral principles but has become steadily worse under different writers, and Roscoe has basically been two different people pre-death and post-death. I'm not going to say he was an amazing person before death because he had a moment of weapons-grade assholery once he realized he was dying, but generally he was easy-going and not cruel. That definitely changed after he died. And as also discussed recently, Lisa was regularly a spiteful asshole back in the day but since the New 52 began has become the 'nice' Rogue with a strong moral centre (though she does get pushed into rage occasionally). So this is very much a period-specific question.

If you're talking about the Rogues as a group -- let's say the Johns-era Rogues -- they're probably similar to Constantine in the sense that they're often deeply selfish but at least some of them will do the right thing when necessary. And the thing about that era is that Johns gave them an extremely strong leader who rarely brooked dissent, so even if Mark or Evan didn't give a shit about a particular good deed, they'd still go along with it because the boss thought it was necessary. This effect doesn't necessarily happen in eras when the Rogues are more loosely organized, so one guy might really care about an injustice but the others don't and thus they don't help out. I'm sure that's a big reason Hartley and James left and Mick would periodically strike out on his own; they probably felt that the jerks were dragging them down. But even during loosely organized eras the Rogues didn't always act like monsters, because for the most part they aren't monsters. Literally all of them, including the 'nice' Rogues, have done at least one truly heinous thing in their ~60-year history, but for the most part that isn't who they are.

So overall, I'd compare them to Constantine, but some of them are more like his benevolent moments and some are more like his dick moments. And some in the modern era are notably more malevolent than he. Modern Hartley has some similarities to Starfire's unerring sense of good, though in the distant past he could be a huge jerk sometimes. None have ever been all-good or all-bad, so it can be difficult to compare them to other characters who aren't similarly morally grey…that's what makes your comparison to Constantine very apt.

[arandomaquarius]

“Concussive Sound” Pt. 1

TW: Implied Car Accident, Injury, Vomit (brief but it’s there), Panic Attack, Concussions, Swearing/Cursing, Not Proofread

Summary: Piper gets a concussion. That’s it. That’s the summary :/

Characters: Captain Cold, Heatwave, Trickster I, Mirror Master I, Captain Boomerang I, Pied Piper

A/N: this does not follow any canon. Some characters may be ooc, please be nice this is my first time writing these characters. Constructive criticism is welcome. P.s. I am aware this is exaggerated hearing loss from a concussion. I just wanted to write Piper with a concussion based loosely on my experience but I’ve been meaning to write his reaction to suddenly losing his hearing for an amount of time. I decided to kill two birds with one stone :/

~Text under the cut~

“Why can’t we travel by mirrors again?” Sam complains for about the fifth time today. Piper rolls his eyes from where he’s sat in the back.

“Because, Sam, it’s not that far, and traveling by mirror makes the rest of us sick. Now shut up,” Len snaps from the passenger seat. “Take a left here and continue ‘til ya get to a four-way intersection,” he adds, directing Mick where to go.

Beside Piper sits JJ, who’s currently turned around in his seat to annoy Digger with puppets. Digger and Sam are purposely put in the very back, where they can’t bother Len (mostly).

“C’mon Sammy, cheer up!” James mocks in a high-pitched voice while animatedly moving a Trickster hand puppet in Sam’s face.

Sam shoves the puppet harshly, causing a saddened squeak to come from the mini Trickster. It deflates in on itself, and James pouts at the brunette. “Well, ya don’t gotta be so rude!” He huffs and cradles the puppet to his face.

Len turns around angrily, “Jesse! Turn around, put your damn seatbelt on, and shut your trap!”

James slinks down in his seat sullenly, arms crossed and face scrunched up as he sticks his tongue out. He looks like the epitome of a five-year-old pouting.

“Someone’s not very good at keeping their cool,” he mutters under his breath.

Again, Piper rolls his eyes at his companions’ antics, this time with a repressed smile. He pulls out his phone and switches the song to something else. No one complains. They don’t complain because they all know they’d have to fight Piper. If Piper is in the vehicle, he chooses the music, end of story.

He stashes his phone back in his hoodie pocket as “Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone plays through the car speakers.

They’re stopped at the four-way intersection by a flashing red light. Mick looks both ways before going to turn left.

There’s a loud sound coming towards them before the world jerks and whirls around. The sounds of breaking glass, airbags activating, and screaming surround Piper. His head slams against the door.

.

.

.

Piper shrugs the hand off his shoulder. It returns and continues to lightly hit him. He shrugs it off a few more times before realizing it won’t go away.

Piper huffs and squints his eyes open. Light immediately assaults him, and he winces noiselessly as he shuts his eyes again. He pushes himself up from his leaning position against the door.

Everything hurts: his head; his eyes; his sides. Only his ears didn't hurt, strangely.

Carefully, Piper squints his eyes open. He has to open them more to see the figure trying to get his attention. It was James, sky-blue eyes wide and hair disheveled.

His mouth is moving quickly, but no sound is coming out. Piper’s brows furrow in confusion. He opens his mouth to speak to James and ask what he is saying.

No sound comes out.

Piper worriedly swallows and tries again.

Still no sound.

Piper brings a hand to his throat and tries to speak. It takes a few futile attempts, but he can feel the vibrations through his throat indicating that he is making noise.

But he can’t hear it.

Piper locks eyes with James, seeing his own panic reflected in those blue eyes. Piper reaches up to his ears. There’s nothing to indicate they bled.

It’s getting difficult to breathe now. The world feels like it’s spinning again, and Piper’s head throbs painfully. Everything is too bright. Everything is too silent.

The van feels like it’s closing in on him, and he presses his hands against the seats to steady himself.

Piper looks around for the door handle. He fumbles with it and falls out of the SUV. Piper pulls himself up and almost falls over when he stands. He shakes his head to clear the nausea away.

Piper looks around dazedly. There’s bright lights of emergency service vehicles. Piper shields his eyes with his arm and steps back.

There’s a man in front of him (when did he get there?). He’s wearing dark blue (like a police officer) and teal gloves. His mouth is moving, not as fast as James’ was, but Piper still can’t tell what he’s saying.

The world sways and the man becomes distant, despite not moving.

Piper’s surrounded by bricks. The nausea returns full force when Piper meets the concrete ground.

His body shakes as he empties his stomach on the alleyway floor. Black spots dance in his vision as he lays on the filthy ground.

Piper’s mind feels fuzzy. His limbs feel like lead. Even breathing hurts.

He can’t even remember how he got here, wherever “here” was. What had happened before? He vaguely remembers the car ride with the Rogues.

The Rogues.

He left them. They’re going to be pissed at him for managing to get himself in this position. Especially Len; for a man going by the alias “Captain Cold” he isn’t cold-hearted. In fact, he’s quite the opposite at times.

The world is soothingly dark, and without noise, it’s easy to slip into unconsciousness.

.

.

.

Piper isn’t sure what wakes him. He does know that he’s in a different place than he was. Instead of cold concrete, there’s a worn and squishy surface underneath him. It seems familiar, but opening his eyes feels like too much of an effort.

So instead, Piper does what he normally does: he listens. But there are no sounds to listen to. Not even his own breathing and heartbeat can be heard.

It’s such a long forgotten feeling, waking up to silence. He feels disconnected from reality, like he’s in some kind of surreal dream. Like he is underwater and floating in nothingness all at the same time. It makes his skin crawl.

Begrudgingly, Piper opens his eyes. He’s pleasantly surprised when darkness greets him instead of searing light. In the dim light, Piper recognizes where he is: the Rogues’ safehouse.

He was here this morning- or at least, he was here before he left with the others. Before the car ride.

Piper carefully sits up. He’s on the only mattress in the building, covered with a fleece blanket. He is still wearing his civvies.

He throws the blanket off and goes to stand. He wobbles, but he doesn’t fall. His body aches horrendously, but he doesn’t want to be alone, so he forces himself to search the warehouse for someone.

Piper spots light coming from under a door. He quietly (at least, he thinks he’s being quiet; it’s kinda hard to tell when you can’t exactly hear) pads over to the door. Immediately, he has to resist the instinct to tilt his head to hear what’s happening on the other side.

He takes a deep breath before turning the handle and opening the door.

Regret is the first thing Piper feels when bright lights cause him to shield his face from their attack. The second is large hands guiding him to a chair.

Warily, he unshields his face and forces himself to look at whichever Rogue is in front of him. He’s surprised to see more than one crowding around him.

Len, Sam, James, and Mick are all standing around Piper. He assumes Mick is the one who guided him to a sitting position, as he is the closest and has a steadying hand on Piper’s arm.

Before he can think to ask questions, a light is shining in his eyes. He goes to look away only to have someone firmly grasp his jaw. As quickly as the light appeared, it leaves.

Piper has to blink a few times to be able to see properly again. The hand on his jaw is snapping in front of him, and Piper follows its motions. The snapping stops and Len crouches down to Piper’s eye level.

Len speaks. Or, at least, his mouth is moving, and Piper just has to assume that Len is, in fact, speaking at him.

Piper squints at Len’s moving lips. It makes his head hurt too much and he gives up before he can play the guessing game of lip-reading.

He slumps in the chair, tired and confused. It must be some sort of signal to the others, because they back up.

He couldn’t hear. He had lost his hearing.

[thisismeracing]

I’m so sorry about how long this was…didn’t realize until after I finished typing it all out😅

So I’ve only been in the fandom for a little over a year (but I hyper fixated, and may have had to look into alllll the drivers before I picked the ones I like); so to my knowledge Mick is super low key about everything that’s not racing. He’s said in an interview that he’s actually gotten shyer the older he’s gotten and he noticed the biggest shift was when he was in F2. But over all I think the whole Schumi family is pretty private; and I think growing up but that environment let go how close he keeps everything to his chest.

As for Charles…I love the boy don’t get me wrong, but the more I know about him the more I question. He’s alway, always been a big deal. Always been in the media and it seems like he’s always been a homie hopper. Like his 1st public relationship was with G, lasted about 3-4 years and then they broke up, couple months later he’s dating Char (there’s been speculation that the girls were BFFs but it’s never been confirmed that they were anything other than friends). Same thing with Char, date 3-4 years, break up and then new relationship with one of her friends a couple months later.And they all look very similar. I feel like Charles is one of those guys that’s a serial monogamist; but I don’t think he’s going to end up settling down for more than a couple years until he retires. I don’t think it really helps that he’s always been “il Predestinato” either.

A serial monogamist, I- oop HAHAHAH I get ur point, nonny. I think maybe he just likes the whole dynamic of a relationship, I have friends like this, and it's pretty common tbh (or maybe, he just doesn’t really like the hook-up thing and goes for the serious side of the road), I dunno. But let’s not forget that it must be harder to keep a relationship with the constant traveling and racing schedule.

I think Charles is v human. Dating someone for four years then starting a new relationship then ending it and starting another is the most common thing in the world, but as you pointed out people see him as “il predestinato” so everything he does goes through judgmental lens.

[hellomickryan]

Editorial Photography in China: A Glimpse into the Artistry of Mick Ryan

In the dynamic landscape of China's bustling cities and picturesque landscapes, editorial photography plays a crucial role in capturing the essence of the country's culture, fashion, and lifestyle. As a vibrant hub of creativity and innovation, China offers a myriad of opportunities for photographers to showcase their talent and expertise. One such photographer who has made a mark in the realm of editorial photography is Mick Ryan, renowned for his exceptional skills and unique perspective.

The Art of Editorial Photography

Editorial photography in China is more than just taking pictures; it's about storytelling. It involves capturing images that not only document a moment but also convey a narrative or evoke an emotion. In China, where tradition meets modernity, editorial photographers have the challenging task of capturing the essence of this cultural fusion.

From the bustling streets of Beijing to the serene landscapes of rural China, editorial photographers like Mick Ryan use their creativity and vision to create compelling visual narratives. They work closely with clients to understand their vision and then use their expertise to bring that vision to life through their photographs.

Mick Ryan: A Maestro Behind the Lens

Mick Ryan is a name synonymous with excellence in editorial photography in China. With years of experience and a keen eye for detail, Mick has established himself as one of the leading photographers in China. His work is characterized by its creativity, authenticity, and ability to capture the essence of his subjects.

One of the key reasons behind Mick's success is his ability to connect with his subjects. Whether he's photographing a fashion shoot in Shanghai or a cultural event in Beijing, Mick has a knack for putting his subjects at ease, allowing him to capture candid and captivating moments.

Why Choose Mick Ryan as Your Editorial Photographer?

There are several reasons why Mick Ryan stands out as a top choice for editorial photography in China. His passion for his craft, coupled with his technical expertise, ensures that every photograph he takes is a work of art. His ability to understand his clients' vision and translate it into stunning visuals sets him apart from his peers.

Moreover, Mick's commitment to excellence and professionalism makes him a pleasure to work with. Whether you're a fashion designer looking to showcase your latest collection or a magazine editor in need of striking images, Mick Ryan is the ideal choice for all your editorial photography needs in China.

In conclusion, editorial photography in China is a thriving industry, thanks to the talent and creativity of photographers like Mick Ryan. His ability to capture the essence of China's culture and lifestyle sets him apart as a true maestro behind the lens. If you're looking for exceptional editorial photography that tells a compelling story, look no further than Mick Ryan.

[orange-imagines]

hey heyyyy, you got any takes on what Leonard would be like in a romantic relationship? :eyesemoji:

Relationship: Romantic

A/N: YESSIR right away sir o7

Congrats! You and Len finally finished your five-year-long romantically charged pining phase! What next?

Personally, I don't think Leonard's been in a committed relationship before. He's had dates and people who have struck his fancy in the past, but he had a lot more walls up back then and, in general, is someone who needs others to really take the time to get to know him. He doesn't hit it off with anyone right away, he doesn't believe in love at first sight, and he doesn't like people who try to pester him to be his friend or push him to let his guard down when he isn't ready. He likes you because you understand that, and you've put in the time and effort to respect his boundaries and go at the pace he's comfortable with. Patience is a virtue that he really respects, especially when it comes from you.

He's still a relatively slow mover after you two get together, but now he has bursts of impulsiveness that will catch you off guard whenever they happen. Your first kiss happened completely out of the blue when he just felt the urge to kiss you. He said the L word for the first time in the back of the van after a successful heist- right behind Mick and Dan. He can get embarrassed and stumble over his words sometimes, sure, but when something really matters to him he says it outright and without shame, and anyone who wants to make fun of him can deal with their head being put through a wall.

He's a protective partner. Not in the way that he gets into it with anyone who looks at you wrong- he's good at ignoring people who bother him and he trusts you to handle yourself and let him know if you need him to back you up. He'll hold your bag or jacket if you want to go tell someone off and watch you fondly the whole time, but if someone tries to mess with you and you're not in the mood, Len's not afraid to knock their teeth out then and there, no hesitation. He doesn't care who they are: anyone who tries to start on you is immediately on his shit list. He doesn't care about the consequences.

You get to see Leonard at his softest and gentlest, more than anyone else. It's something that he's used to struggling with, but he has such an easy time letting his guard down around you in a way that he can't explain. It feels weird for him not to talk to you about what's on his mind and tell you everything that's going on with him and the boys at the moment. He really like getting to lay back with his head in your lap while he talks to you- and, yes, he'll even let you play with his hair while he does. It's seeped with hairspray and other products, but once you get through all that it's very soft and well taken care of, especially if you get to it before he's had time to puff it up for the day. He might grumble, but he loves the feeling of your hands in his hair so please keep at it.

Speaking of hair, he really likes doing yours. He can occupy himself for hours just sitting beside you and shaking your hair out, running his fingers through it, putting it in several different styles while you do your own thing. He'll give you some attitude if you move a lot ("Just sit still! You're messing me up!") but his face is cute when he concentrates, especially when he's holding bobby pins or hair ties between his teeth.

He thinks he's hot shit but he's so easy to tease sometimes. Give him an "aw, you like holding my hand?" or "you like spending time with me? That's sweet" and watch him go "whatever!" and get all warm in the face. Be prepared for retribution in the future, though. He's still a cocky little shitty who likes to fluster you when the opportunity arises.

He loves gossiping with you. Please bitch and complain to him, it's literally his love language. He gets so much joy out of hearing you rant about work drama/shitty friends + family/random incidents that bothered you throughout the day. He'll be doing the same thing himself because he's a closet drama queen, and he can go back and forth with you for hours about his pet peeves and people who annoy him. He just loves being a little hater with you.

He usually calls you by your name or some variation of "babe". He's not great at sappy pet names, but if you use any on him you'll see it have an instant effect: him averting you gaze with a red face, fighting back a smile, muttering "you're so cheesy". He loves it though, don't let him fool you.

He hums and mumbles through song lyrics absentmindedly while he works, so you get your own private show whenever you help him with his plans. If you recognize what he's singing, feel free to harmonize with him- he likely won't even realize it until he wraps up his tune. He finds this habit of his funny, if not a bit embarrassing (compliment him on his voice afterward, I dare you).

Honestly, not a whole lot changes when you guys get together- apart from the obvious romantic affection. For the most part he just acts like your best friend. You're someone he doesn't have to worry about putting up a front around because he knows you know him better than that. He puts a huge amount of trust in you, which makes him feel squishy and vulnerable, but he's found himself liking it a lot more than he ever thought he would. And he loves you for that.

[kitkatt0430]

I am already intrigued by Hartley/Barry/Cisco with the same shitty ex (Eobard) mention

So I'll have to take my time to workshop this some, but the event isn't until July 14th so I've got plenty of time to shine this idea up. But.

AU-land here, where Professor Thawne works at CCU. Or did. He's being fired after a grad student - Barry - came forward to admit that he'd been taken advantage of by the Professor and now lots of current and former students are coming out of woodwork because Thawne threatened their grades if they didn't sleep with them or etcetera.

There'd be some establishing flashbacks as they all had very different experiences with Eobard. He wooed Hartley then stole his research and ruined Hartley's relationship with his parents by outing him to them. While he was in the screwing Hartley over stage of things, he took up with Cisco who was able to get out of the relationship before things went sour and was only really aware in retrospect that it was a very toxic and power imbalanced relationship for him and that Eobard probably pitted him against Hartley deliberately so as to prevent them from realizing how he was using them. Barry was not directly one of Eobard's students but quickly realized he was being used for a.) his research and b.) as revenge on his parents for his mom snubbing Eobard when they were much younger... well...

So they all meet on campus, Barry's worried that this could affect the PhD he's about to finish up, Hartley and Cisco are reluctantly apologizing to each other and admitting they've got more in common with each other than they realized... and both vowing to make sure that Barry gets his degree since he was the first one out of so many who was brave enough to speak out about what was going on. And the three of them wind up at the campus coffee house just talking until a ridiculous hour of the morning when one of them jokes about this being what a nice first date really ought to be like. And...

They're like... why not? Why not have this be their first date? Why not go on more dates, to see if they work as a trio.

Fast forward to Eobard catching sight of them a year later and realizing they're on a date. His three most hated exes. And they're just kind of like 'ah, thanks, if you hadn't been a shitty, toxic influence on our lives then we never would have found such a healthy relationship with each other afterwards.'

Eobard - *life ruined, steaming with rage, blaming these three in particular for rallying the rest and Barry especially for being the first domino*

Hartley/Barry/Cisco - *too busy being happy together to give Eobard the time of day*

Admittedly, there's room for a canon AU in there too as an alternative take on the prompt. But I feel like a non-canon AU gives more breathing space for having Eobard date and break up with all three of them separately before they all meet up with the intention of destroying his reputation beyond repair.

I'm eying several other prompts on there going oh this one's a good Westhallen prompt (Love triangle? No!) or thinking how I've never written Len/Mick/Sara before but the criminal 4 criminal 4 criminal one could be fun for them, there are several I'm kinda going 'hmmmm, Barrisco???'... and I haven't done Oliver/Felicity/Dig since Telephone, but the friend group goes through trauma prompt does seem very them...

So I'll see what I write between now and July and maybe I'll hit a few of these. :D

[raincitygirl76]

I don’t think Simon will ever be a monarchist, somehow. At least not on the inside.

But yes, absolutely @coffeeandsadbooks is correct. Over the course of S2, Simon comes to realize that Wilhelm’s life is very different from his own. And some of that realization comes from all the pomp and ceremony on jubilee day. Yeah, Simon was considering going back to Wilhelm in secret the night before, on the phone with Ayub. But he hadn’t made up his mind yet. The sheer scale of the fuss over the royal family and Wilhelm’s first televised speech would’ve definitely had an impact. Great point.

Although it also took place over the course of S2, gradually. Jan-Olof cancelling the song, and Felice reminding him “This Year with the Royal Family” has super high ratings. And also Simon over the course of S2 gradually becomes more aware of Wilhelm’s life pressures.

Shout out to the Swedish literature teacher who put Karin Boye’s novel “Crisis” as one of the book options for the group presentations. Allowing Simon and Wilhelm to understand each other better through the lens of literary analysis.

I also think once Simon calms down in 2.05, the implied revelation that the royal court has known about August all along and protected him instead of protecting their crown prince has an impact. Simon isn’t stupid. When Wilhelm tells him in 2.05 that if he went to the cops, August would have the whole royal court apparatus on his side, that means the royal court already know the truth and have already chosen a side. Spoiler alert: it’s not Wilhelm or Simon’s side.

It’s not a big leap from what Wilhelm says out loud in the music room to what Simon surely (and correctly) deduces for himself: Wilhelm’s parents have chosen to protect a sex offender who victimized their own child. And I doubt they would’ve done that if the Crown Prince position weren’t so important to them and the Royal court.

Simon finally understands the kind of pressure Wilhelm is under in part because of Wilhelm’s revelation that it was August who filmed and leaked the video. That revelation has many knock-on effects. Including the revelation that the Royal court made August Wilhelm’s backup anyway.

And Simon finally knows for sure that, while Wilhelm’s suffering from the video was very different from his own, it wasn’t lesser than his own. That Simon had to endure staring and whispers at the supermarket (for example), which Wilhelm didn’t. But Wilhelm had to endure betrayal by his own parents and everyone who works for them.

Like Malin, who was supposed to keep Wilhelm safe, but instead tried to drag him away bodily from Hillerska. Say what you will about Micke Eriksson, at least he never covered up for a sex offender. Or convinced anyone to try and kidnap his child. When Micke starts looking good in comparison, Simon understands the intolerable pressure of Wilhelm’s position much better.

The time Simon chooses to commit to a relationship with Wilhelm has hidden symbolism. By picking the moment when his now boyfriend is about to give his first big speech, Simon not only confesses his love, he also shows his acceptance of Wilhelm as a royal.

Before the very end of S2 Simon hasn't really experienced Wilhelm as a prince. He only saw glimpses of that side of him. Hillerska is an environment in which students are supposed to be equals. It is not the reality, of course. Teachers do everything in their power to accommodate the prince, students are desperate to become a part of his circle from the moment Wilhelm arrives. Simon sees it but to him - new to the world of riches and nobles - this treatment probably doesn't look that different from the treatment other wealthy students get at Hillerska.

The speech after Erik's death can't give Simon an understanding of Wilhelm's role. The speech is made in a small room for a small audience. Even the welcoming ceremony for the prince happened in a more formal environment.

Lastly, the interview Wilhelm gives after the video was leaked, fails to show his royal side to Simon. If Simon ever watched it, he saw a teenage boy who felt ashamed because the whole world could watch his intimate moments and was uncomfortable lying about his identity.

The speech at the end of S2 carries importance that other instances of Wilhelm acting as a prince didn't. He is about to give his first televised address as the crown prince. He wears a perfectly tailored uniform, the royal couple has arrived, students and teachers have gathered to witness Wilhelm addressing the nation. Cameras are ready to capture the historic event. And this is the moment Simon chooses to talk to Wilhelm.

It is not a fully conscious decision on his part. The timing is just a coincidence to Simon (but not to the screenwriters.) He could have picked a more intimate and quiet moment to say 'I love you, let's be together' and that moment would have been equally significant. But those words are said when Wilhelm is about to present himself as the heir to the throne, and it allows us to see Simon no longer being bothered by his boyfriend's status. The fact that Wilhelm is a crown prince is not a temporary inconvenience or a threat or something to be ignored. It is reality and instead of trying to change it, Simon accepts it.

He doesn't make any remarks about the emptiness of the ceremony or Wilhelm's look. Simon downright says that he is now okay with their relationship not being public and that he no longer intends to report August. He is discreet and understanding even when Jan-Olof demands Wilhelm to finally go to the podium.

cupofteainme said this moment had to look exactly like that because it demonstrates the change in Simon's attitude. In E4S2 Wilhelm points out that he fully accepts Simon but Simon doesn't accept him being a prince. Until this issue is resolved, Simon and Wilhelm can't be together.

It wasn't a coincidence when Wilhelm chose the moment he chose to confess his love to Simon at the end of S1. It was his way of saying 'I am sorry I wasn't ready to tell the truth publicly. I will be someday.' And by the end of S2 Wilhelm is ready to tell the truth very, very publicly. Simon chose the moment he chose to say 'I am sorry I wasn't understanding enough. Now I am,' and I can't wait for S3 to see Simon as a monarchist a supportive boyfriend of the prince 🤭

[oficytheft]

Len & Mick Through the Years: Getting Away < Chapter 5 >

Leonard wiped his feet on the mat outside before opening the door to step inside, he and Lisa still had 2 hours before his Dad got home which gave them plenty of time to clean and then for him to get her some food and shut away into her room with the excuse of homework. He froze when he opened the door and saw broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, spots of blood clear to see even in the dim light of the house. A flash of panic went through him before he slammed the door shut and completely ignored that he heard his Dad yelling from the living room, he didn't care if the other care after him at the moment and hurried up the stairs and to the bathroom. When he got in there he found Lisa with her shirt pulled off treating a deep cut on her shoulder, it didn't seem to be bleeding enough to have hit any major arteries but he moved over quickly anyway as he shut the door. "Lis, what happened?"

He grabbed the cloth she was holding as he spoke, gently wiping the area around the cut. "He-he came home early, when he saw that the cleaning wasn't done he pushed me down and I dropped the glass I was holding, a piece of it..." He didn't push her to finish, he got the gist of what had gone on and a hard look came to his eyes as he stood up and moved to hold the door shut so he could finish talking to her before their father could open it.

"Put your shirt on, go into your room, put on a black sweatshirt and grab your go-bag and then go grab mine well I deal with him. Don't wait for me, just go outside. You know where we're going, I'll catch up to you." Lisa nodded and tucked the cloth so that her bra strapped was holding it in place over her wound before pulling her shirt on just as Lewis started banging on the door, Lisa walked over and put her hand on Leonard's arm. She was trying to get him to calm down before facing their father and he knew it, she didn't want him to do something for her sake that she thought he might regret later. "Are you ready?" When she responded with a nod Leonard opened the door, standing between her and Lewis as the other started yelling at him once the door was open.

"Who do you think you are slamming my doors and ignoring me when I talk to you!? This is my house, I don't need to let you keep staying here. Your 25 years old, most men would be out of their parents house but here you are still acting like a boy entitled to my property." Normally Leonard just took the yelling and occasional hit from Lewis, preferring to deescalate the situation for Lisa's sake so that he wouldn't have to worry about not being able to be there to protect her from him. Because of that he expected the shock on his father's face when he didn't back down and instead took a few steps towards him, he might have been small and lanky as a kid but now he was at least 3 inches taller than his father and with their age difference? Could more than likely take him in a fight, he  felt Lisa squeeze between him and the door frame to run to her room right as he started talking.

"Your house!? The money I manage to get is the only reason you still have your house, I'm the only reason your house doesn't look like some sort of halfway house. Most 25-year-old men wouldn't have to keep staying in their parent's house because they're afraid that their little sister will end up dead if they leave her to their father's care." He continued walking as he spoke, pushing Lewis back when the other tried to push him back towards the bathroom. "And that's done, I'm not taking it anymore, and you're not going to be going anywhere near Lisa anymore." He heard steps rushing down the stairs behind him as he backed Lewis into the wall, not bothering to turn around and making sure the other's attention was still on him. "You might have your connection Dad but so do I, and most of mine don't take kindly to ex-cops." He reached out and shoved Lewis, his shoulder banging hard onto the wall behind him before turning around and heading down the stairs and out the door himself after Lisa.

He was at the bottom of the steps when Lewis finally broke from his shock and moved to the top of the stairs to yell after him. "You better watch your back boy, because I will get to you and when I do you're going to regret today." Leonard ignored him as he opened the door and went out, slamming it shut behind him as he did. He jogged down the sidewalk in the direction he knew Lisa had gone, finally catching up to her about three blocks from Mick's place and taking both her bag and his own from her. They walked the rest of the way together, stopping at a pharmacy so that Leonard could buy a first aide kit before getting to Mick's place.

Leonard didn't bother knocking on the door when they got there, but as he opened the door and shoved his key back into his pocket he called. "It's just me and Lisa." encase the other was home and heard them come in. He didn't hear Mick say anything in response but he did hear what sounded like his boyfriend digging around in the fridge as he directed Lisa into the bathroom had her sit on the closed toilet seat, he set the first aide kit down on the sink before telling her. "Wait here, I'm gonna go boil some water so I have something to clean the cut with. Take off your sweater and your shirt so that I can get to the wound, but be careful you don't jerk it around too much."

After that he headed out of the room with their bags, throwing them onto the couch before he headed to the kitchen and started digging out a pan without saying anything to Mick. "Len?" He didn't answer, just turning on the water before setting the pan on the stove and turning it on. "Leonard." He felt Mick reach out to grab his arm and turn him towards him and narrowed his eyes spitting out a clearly annoyed "What!?" Towards his partner, at the reaction? He felt Mick's hand leave his arm and almost felt bad, but he was still filled with anger at his father and guilt for not getting home before his father so that something like this wouldn't happen. "Boss, what happened? Is Lisa okay?"

Leonard turned back towards the stove as he spoke, waiting for the water to start boiling. "She'll be fine, but she's got a huge gash on her shoulder thanks to that bastard. I grabbed a first-aid kit on the way here to take care of it." He paused for a minute before turning away from the water to look at the other again, he could see that Mick was fuming. He reached out and put a hand on either side of his face to try and anchor him, he didn't need Mick losing his shit and going after Lewis right now. "...Mick I can't ask her to go back there." It would have been easier if they could have made it another 4 and a half years till Lisa turned 18, then he couldn't do anything if he took her out of there. But Lisa had never ended up hurt this way before, every other time Leonard had been able to get between and shield his sister from Lewis's outbursts and anger. Sure he had a few scars of his own from that, but that was better than Lisa having them.

"Good. Neither one of ya is going back to that bastard's house, I say you shoulda put a bullet in him years ago." He reached up as he spoke, pulling Leonards hands away from his face before saying. "Go make sure Lis is okay, I'll bring you the water when it's done and grab a clean cloth." Leonard nodded and walked away to check on Lisa, soon enough the wound was cleaned up and they had some steri-strip over it and covered some gauze and medical tape. He went to grab her bag for her so she could put some clean clothes on to sleep in and saw Mick putting a pillow and blanket down on the futon for her; soon enough she was done cleaning up, had some food in her, and was laying down to sleep.

Once Leonard was she that Lisa was out he went to clean himself up before changing into a pair of loose pants to sleep in and going and sliding into Mick's bed, accepting it when the other wrapped his arms around him and hooking one arm around the other's neck and resting his forehead in the crook of his neck. "I should have been there Mick, now she's going to have a reminder of that asshole with her forever."  at the comment he felt Mick reach his hand up, trailing his fingers over a scarred patch on his upper arm where Lewis had thrown a pan Leonard had been cooking with a couple of years back and boiling water had splashed onto him.

"There's a lota scar she don't have because you were there Len." His hand moved as he spoke as if to prove the point, trailing over the scar on his back where Lewis had shoved him through the screen door in the kitchen, a nail on the deck outside of it scraping him when he fell once he was through it. That one was older, he was 16 when that happened. "You shoulda let me kill that bastard years ago."

"I don't need him dead, I need him out of our life." He wasn't even surprised by the response "Great way ta do that is make 'im dead." Leonard just rolled his eyes at the response, pulling his head away from Mick before moving back towards him for a kiss. He appreciated the sentiment but he also thought that death was too easy of an out for Lewis. One day? He'd make sure his father paid for everything he'd put him and Lisa through but now wasn't the time, right now it would hurt Lisa more than help her. He let the events of the day slip away for now and smiled into the kiss when he felt Mick roll them over so that he was on top of Leonard, biting his cheek to muffle a small moan when he felt his lips slipped down to his neck.