Keith

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once you're stripped clean, what's at your core?

sympathy for the devil

you try so hard to be a beacon of hope for everyone, but nobody’s a beacon of hope for you. most likely, someone’s betrayed you in the past. it’s not like you’re easy to walk over, you just believe(d) too much in the inherent good of people. that isn’t a bad thing, and there’s nothing wrong with being kind and forgiving… i just feel kind of bad for you. i hope you can get a friend who doesn’t fuck with your head and take advantage of your kindness for once.

Brows raised, Soul watched as CK stomped around the kitchen in a venomous huff, choking back another lovingly teasing comment as it eyed the mitts over the other’s hands. The silence was honestly worse than any irate snap or comment CK could throw his way, at least then he got a clear cut reaction. But this time? All he could do was awkwardly hover and shift as he waited, the sharpness of the movement when CK retrieved the tray making him shy away. It hated to be anywhere near that thing when it looked so hot.

Glowing gaze landed on the freshly decorated cookie once it was revealed, and an awkward pout immediately turned into a grin. Sure the icing was melting but hey, he melts too sometimes, it’s accurate! ❝ Oh-! ❞

Ah. That’s about what he expected, sure.

For a moment he hovered there, watching the cookie be crushed. Yeah, the point definitely got across. He dryly swallowed and waited till his boyfriend’s hand unfurled, a moment more, then reached forward and swiftly plucked a icing-dripping chunk from the rubble, and popped it into his mouth.

❝ …Still good! ❞

Menacing aura soured into fond annoyance as Soul took the opportunity to take a piece of cookie and eat it. Of course. Furrowed brows lowered over tired eyes, hooded gaze staring before dropping down to his hand. Hmph.

Lips parted, revealing sharp teeth and a neon pink tongue. CK licked the runaway black icing dripping down his wrist to stop it from traveling further.

     It was pretty good.

After a moment of hesitation, he copied his boyfriend and slipped a chunk of broken sugar cookie into his mouth. It was fresh out of the oven so the edges were crisp yet the center soft. The sweet seemed to ease his anger, taut muscles visibly laxing the longer he chewed. The frosting was a nice touch too, pairing well with the buttery base of the cookie. CK let his shoulders affectionately knock against Soul’s.

“Want to help?” He finally spoke after swallowing, pausing midway to clean his fingers with his tongue. Messy frosting. That’s why the cookie for that other asshole had been cooled first so everything crumbled cleanly. “With decorating, I mean. Not this.” Not giving his wild partner any chance to misconstrue that.

Mun vs Muse | Picrew Link

Steals this from Pico who stole from Max LMAO

keiths reaction immediately causes an uproar of laughter. so hard in fact, pico uses the arm of his couch to keep him up.

“ha, look at your face! you should have seen yourself, ya were sooooo fuckin’ shocked man!” he wipes away a tear. man, this was so worth it. possible witnesses be damned. a few more throaty chuckles before pico pulls himself back, towards the TV stand.

“eh, who needs a safe word? we are all about that spontaneous life baby.” on the stand, theres a pocket knife waiting for him. he twirls it in his hand as he turns back around. he watches keith struggle with the ropes for a minute, leaning on back and enjoying keiths frustration.

“aw, c'mon. ain’t you the littlest bit flattered? I don’t do this to just anyone ya know.” pico keeps stalling, waiting just that much longer to cut him free, aa if in deep thought. finally, pico moves from with two quick cuts, Keith’s free to do what he pleases. pico backs off with a frown.

“I come see ya first on your birthday and that’s how ya treat me, huh? next year I’ll just write ya a fuckin’ card.”

Hmph. He was gonna take the feeling that bloomed in the pit of his stomach when Pico called him baby and toss it into the dumpster then roll said dumpster down a hill after setting it on fire. Stop being gay, Keith. You’re supposed to be mad right now. Furrowed eyes watched as Pico did his little knife tricks and stalled for time. So annoying. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of Keith being tied up. “Starting to think you got some kinks I never knew about.” BDSM, much? Damn. 

“With how good you are at this whole kidnapping thing, I think you’re lying on me. Feels like you do this for just about anyone.” He shot back with a dramatic eye roll. Once free, he sprang to his feet, bringing his hands around to rub his wrists with an indignant huff. “Don’t damage the goods, Pico. I’m sensitive.”

The reveal of the other’s grand b-day plan made him pause. Keith turned, eyes widening. That feeling he’d stamped down like a minute ago came back in full force and nearly winded him. “Huh?” He stammered, like he’d forgotten the concept of birthdays. 

Palms patted his pockets for his phone to peep the date but it’d been left on his bed back at home. Without being able to check his texts or the time, Keith had to relent and give it to Pico - he was the first person to see him on his day. He’d been so adamant on being that ‘first person’ he’d gone through this whole (terrible) plan too. 

Embarrassment etched into his tired face. He looked away, slouching and jamming his hands into his pockets. It was hard to hide how giddy that made him. Stupid Pico and his stupid plans and stupid sentimental ass. A bent grin pulled the corners of his mouth. 

“Stick to what you know, big guy. Kidnapping and being annoying. I wouldn’t know what to do with a card anyway.” Sidling up to his ex, Keith gave him a hearty shoulder bump, still not able to look at him. “Thanks, I think. Crazy how obsessed you are with me, but I’m willing to overlook it since you’re more jazzed about my birthday than me.” 

Rocking onto his heels, he made a show of looking around Pico. “Sooo where’s my gift? Don’t say it’s you unless you have a receipt.”

It was easy to be obnoxious the moment the clock ticked into the early hours of July 1 about it being his ‘birth month’. Texting friends (and ex) about his month and expecting royal treatment. Then it got harder with each day. Especially with long shifts at work, music, and social obligations. It was his little brother’s birthday too, so he had to plan for that. 

By the time July 15th rolled around, he’d stopped bringing it up. The birthday boy was swindled into working a closing shift and only now was getting home, about an hour before midnight. Thoughts of his special day were far away in favor of sweet, sweet unconsciousness. It didn’t help that he hadn't slept much the day before, deciding to forgo healthier habits so he could party.

Dragging his feet up the cement steps to his apartment, he fumbled with keys in the dark. The front door unlocked with a click and Keith went in, shutting and locking it before tossing his stuff onto the kitchen counter on the way to his room.

Falling face first onto wrinkled covers, not bothering to change, he kicked off his shoes and let his sprawled body sink into the mattress. Sounds of the city lulled, passing cars and distant idle chatter of friends not ready to turn in just yet. He was in a deep sleep by the time an intruder slinked in through the living room window and made it into his bedside.

Rough hands grab his arms, causing black eyes instantly snap open. Adrenaline surges through his system. His elbow jabbed back into a firm stomach, teeth baring in the dark within intentions of biting. It’s stopped when his vision’s blocked out and tape secured over his mouth. Could this happen on a DIFFERENT night, maybe? He’s soon bound up and hoisted like a sack, slung over someone's shoulder.

      Okay but like, go off king/queen/royalty? Work out much? Sheeeesh.

Was he scared? Sure. Somewhere in his foggy, sleepy brain was a rational fear of the unknown. But this was Keith. He was inconvenienced. Another stroke of bad luck to add to the list. No way he planned on crying like a little bitch. A muffled ‘fuck you’ was distorted by the tape but he said it with enough venom that it transcended language. The rapper wriggled and squirmed the entire time he was carried until being tossed into - let him guess - a white van. Willing to bet his remaining kidney on it. SO ORIGINAL. Spite and pettiness kept the fear at bay. 

During the drive, he worked on trying to free himself from his binds. Damn this bitch was a boy scout or something, these knots were tight. He knew not to trust those guys. Who willingly went into the forest? For badges? No way, Jose. Crazy shit was definitely going down in them woods.

After a short drive the car stopped and he found himself being carried again and plopped down in a chair.

      Then … nothing.

A long, drawn out pause of inaction. He could still hear the sounds of the city so their little trip around the block hadn’t been long enough to get outside the limits.

With flourish, the hood is pulled off and the tape is ripped away from his mouth. He hissed in pain at the adhesive burn and shook his head, eyes squinting to adjust to the change in lighting. Brain going a mile a minute, he did mental gymnastics and stuck a landing after jumping to conclusions.

“Listen, Felicia. I know I said I’m into anything and to surprise me but this is a bit much. You’re beefier than I remember. You been working out? Also I gave y’my number like, 2 months ago. God damn–”

    Blink blink blink.

Blurry vision focused on familiar scenery. Wait a second. He knew where he was. Pico’s apartment. Immediate, and temporary, relief flooded his systems. His shoulders visibly laxed. Okay, so this wasn’t that freaky lady he ran into at the dollar store.

    Surprise.

Hooded eyes narrowed at the gruff voice, swiftly whipping around to face his ‘kidnapper’.  “Yeah, I’m real surprised. And pissed. What the fuck, dude? We don’t even have a safe word.” That last bit was sarcasm… haha, unless? No but seriously, if he didn’t toss in some kind of humor then his anger would take the reins. The impromptu comic relief was for himself as much as it was for Pico’s sake.

Birthday celebrations were the furthest thing from his thoughts. “Miss me that bad you decide to rent a van and kidnap me? Most people nowadays just text. A ‘you up’ woulda worked.” His arms jerked forward, still trying to free his wrists.  Annoyance dragged across his face when all he got for his efforts were the beginning stages of rope burn.  Ugh. What’d he spend like 20 minutes watching ‘TroomTroom Kidnapping Life Hacks’ for if it didn’t even work IRL? Never getting that half hour of his life back now.

Emoji Starter Meme |  Open!

     Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding do–

One might ask; Keith, why are you ringing the doorbell at your girlfriend's parents mansion? Don’t her folks hate your handsome face and bitchin’ talent? Well. Flattery will get you everywhere but shut your mouth. 

He’d managed to get past the front gate security by challenging them to a game of rock, paper, scissors. Best 2 out of 3. After a harrowing victory, the rap artist had to make the long trek up the typical rich person’s needlessly long driveway™.  Daaaamn, just make this a hiking trail, it was as long as one. He wasn’t prepared for such a walk; didn’t bring any gear or snacks. What if he had to pee before he made it to the door? Realization made him acutely aware of the entire Big Gulp slammed on the way here. Oh, fuck.  

Keith could have cut across the grass and gardens instead of walking up the winding path to the house but he’d seen the Dearest’s gardener before during a previous rendezvous. Cutting through bush and tree branches with a pair of oversized shears like it was nothing. No way he’s fucking with that guy or his work. 

What felt like 10 entire minutes passed before he made it to the front door. About 5 minutes in he’d been mentally writing a will and was tempted to setup an S.O.S signal along the car park but pushed on. Hard work and perseverance paid off as light-up sketches scuffed the porch stairs. Civilization at last! 

Now came the dilemma of finding a window to try and climb in while potentially setting off the home alarms or knocking on the door. 

That’s when black eyes spotted the button. Not just any regular ol button, but the doorbell. What was the point in having one when no one made it past security anyway? Poor thing was probably underused. It was up to Keith to give it a chance to sing!

So he did – and when no one answered the door, he pushed it again. And again. Annnnd again. 

     Ding dong.

Emoji Starter Meme  |  Open!

2:47 AM. 

Checking his phone in the blackness of the dark living room nearly blinded unfocused eyes. Damn technology and its blue light, or whatever Doctors and Scientists peddled was causing insomnia these days. 

Sigh. The mercenary rolled onto his side and attempted to settle into a comfy spot on the couch, vision adjusting to the dark once more. Familiar shapes began to take form and blot into view like a darker Rorschach test, outlining furniture and décor in a home that wasn’t his. It was Jazz’s. Mean thoughts barked and bit at the chain-link fence he’d put up in his mind to keep them at bay but the rattling of the weak metal was a constant reminder of how futile it all was. 

Dreary blue eyes squeezed shut. Focus on something else. Like the light snoring of the apartment owner coming from the recliner next to him. Poor bloke came home from a long shift and promptly passed out seconds after settling into his seat. Did he even eat?

Wandering thoughts about food brought back a nostalgia so strong he could almost smell it. 3AM cookies. A ritual the two used to do when they were dating in high school. Waking the other up to sneakily make cookies in the dimly lit kitchen with whatever they had in the pantries. The results were commonly disastrous undercooked dough balls but they were still the best tasting sweets he’d ever had. Perhaps rose-tinted glasses had fooled him into thinking that but . . .

Cyan stood and made his way over to the snoozing ginger. Rough hands reached out to cup his soft, warm cheek. It was easy to forget how to be gentle, the touch felt like climbing onto a bicycle after years of neglecting it in the garage. For just a moment, he was taken back to better days. Excitedly about to wake up his partner so they could bake something terrible at ungodly hours. 

“Luv.” Oops. The pet name slipped out before he could stop it. It sounded wrong in his ‘fucked up’ voice since the incident. Swallowing down apprehension, his hand gave Jazz’s face a light pat. “I want cookies.” Talking was harder now, he couldn’t shout and nearly wake up a set of parents or inject a modicum of joy into his tone but it didn’t matter now. 

He wanted night time sweets and he wanted to make them with his old flame.