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for the prompt meme✨ hit me with a number 5. the vibe, as I see it: sixty, complaining of always being sidelined or left to occupy himself, and somehow still waits so nicely to be collected again, even if he doesn’t like that part being pointed out. he knows all about obeying, clearly.
does he retaliate? is it successful or is he put back in his place?
naturally, I know what I’d do 😏 but I’m quite happy to leave him in your very capable hands chaos. enjoy✨
Hello my lovely! I'm always happy to play with Sixty, although I know I'm far too nice to him sometimes. He knows he has me wrapped around his little finger. Hopefully you enjoy this, even if it does not involve him being put in a washing machine of any kind.
5. "Yeah, I'll just be here waiting for you like always." "What's that supposed to mean?"
From this prompt list.
(SFW)
Read on AO3.
The slam of your car doors broke the stillness of a sunny Friday morning, followed by the satisfying clack of three seatbelts. The car rumbled to life when you turned the key, and you rested your hands at two and ten on the wheel. Your salary as a private investigator would have allowed you to splurge on a fancy self-driving car, but you preferred to remain in control of your vehicle. Unlike many people, you trusted self-driving cars to know what they were doing. It was other drivers that you didn’t trust.
Your partner, Derek, let out a sigh from the passenger seat, which quickly evolved into a jaw-cracking yawn. He and his husband had just adopted a baby, and he was trudging through the usual new parent sleeplessness.
“We’ll get coffee on the way back,” you promised him.
He thanked you. At least, you thought he did. It was hard to tell, since the words came out around another yawn.
Truthfully, you could use the extra perk too. You were on day five of babysitting – sorry, training – the latest new recruit, and so far, you were unimpressed. You slid your gaze to the rear-view mirror, studying the android occupying the back seat. He was glancing out of the window, but as if sensing your scrutiny, his eyes met yours, one of them briefly closing in a wink. You rolled yours and turned your attention to the road as you set off. You told yourself you imagined the huff of amusement from behind you.
“What do we know about this case?” you asked.
Derek ignored you, correctly assuming that the question wasn’t aimed at him.
“Didn’t you read the report?” Sixty threw back at you, mischievous in a way that made you wonder if he realised you would be the one assessing him at the end of his probation.
“I did,” you said, sounding more patient than you felt. “I want to know if you did.”
Sixty sighed, which had to be for the sole purpose of irking you, since you knew full well he didn’t need to exhale.
“A bunch of lawyers need us to look into shady business practices in the hope of finding evidence that will help them in their case,” he recited.
A vague summary but an accurate one.
“Where do you think we should start?”
“At the business in question.”
You nodded, and you heard what sounded like a quiet scoff from the back seat.
Sixty had joined your team with high recommendations from the Detroit Police Department, which had been promising. On paper, he was a great fit for your company, and your boss had talked excitedly about his arrival. All he’d done since his start date was act like a condescending prick, one who preferred to be sassy and a flirt rather than a useful member of the team. It had been a long week with him shadowing you, but at least it was Friday. That evening you had a long overdue date with a bottle of wine and a bubble bath.
The rest of the drive was relatively quiet, broken mostly by Derek’s mumbled apologies every time he yawned. You parked up outside a normal-looking gym, the three of you stepping out of the car. The lawyers were trying to prove that the place had poor working conditions. If it was true, it would be a relatively simple task to gather proof. A few photos, a few discreet conversations with employees, job done.
“You’re really going in there dressed in slacks and a blazer?” Sixty spoke up.
You didn’t like his tone. Too amused, too incredulous.
You turned to face him, gesturing to the bag on your shoulder. “Who’s to say I don’t have workout gear in here?”
He shrugged, one corner of his mouth pulling up in a subtle smirk. You’d seen that expression a lot over the last five days. You really wanted to wipe it off his face, one way or another.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “You’ll blend right in.”
“Unlike you,” you fired back. “Androids don’t need to exercise, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”
His cocky expression shifted to a disgruntled one. “What do you suggest then?”
“Scope the outside of the building. Fire exits, signage, that sort of thing.”
He folded his arms. “That’ll take all of five minutes.”
“Not if you’re thorough.”
You turned to head for the door, Derek shooting you a dry look as you went.
"Yeah,” came Sixty’s sarcastic voice at your back, “I'll just be here waiting for you like always."
You paused, and Derek said your name in a low, warning tone. You ignored him, rounding on Sixty.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
“You know what it means.”
“Pretend I don’t.”
He levelled you with a cold stare, devoid of any of his usual bullshit. “I’m supposed to be shadowing you, yet I keep finding myself left behind. Keeping watch, checking the building, guarding the fucking car. I’m sick of it. I was built to be a detective. I can run circles around your little investigations.”
You stuck a finger in his face. “That right there answers your question. You think you’re so much better than us, just because you worked with the DPD.”
He leaned forward, breaching the bubble of your personal space enough that his nose almost brushed yours. Pride made you stand your ground.
“I am better,” he said in a soft, dangerous tone.
“Then run along back to the DPD,” you said, equally softly. “But if you want to work with us, you follow my orders. That means you scope the outside of the fucking building and wait for us to get back.”
His eyes were dark with suppressed anger, but he said nothing.
“If you want me to trust you more,” you added, “start taking this job seriously and stop wasting our time.”
You walked away again, jaw tense. You entered the gym with Derek, who shot you a loaded look.
“You shouldn’t let him get to you,” he said.
“I know. It’s just been a hell of a week.”
“Want to know what I think?” he went on conversationally.
“Usually, yes. This time, I don’t think so.”
He barked a laugh, disregarding your answer. “I think you’re disappointed. I think you expected him to be incredible at this job right from the start.”
“He could be, that’s what annoys me,” you said, getting dragged onto the topic against your will. “His skills aren’t in question, it’s his damned attitude.”
“I know, but letting him get a rise out of you isn’t going to help.”
“I know,” you admitted with a sigh. “I don’t know why he gets under my skin so much.”
Derek raised his eyebrows. “Really? You don’t know?”
Subtlety wasn’t one of Derek’s strong suits, and his whole demeanour went so far beyond insinuating he might as well have been holding a neon sign.
The painful truth was that Sixty was exactly your type, and Derek had been working with you long enough to know that. You’d been happily ignoring the fact, at first mindful that you were in a position of authority over Sixty, (albeit temporarily), and then irritated by his behaviour. Derek was right: Sixty had disappointed you. It wasn’t entirely fair, since the android had no idea he was supposed to live up to your standards, but you couldn’t help how you felt about the situation.
“You know what’s interesting?” Derek spoke up when you didn’t respond. “Despite his lousy attitude and smart mouth, he’s gonna be waiting out there for us like a good little robot when we’re done here.”
“So?” you shrugged.
“So, don’t you find that at odds with the way he argues with you?”
“Not really. Deviants are complex people. He can argue with me but still recognise that it’s in his best interests to do what I say.”
Derek probably would have had more to add, but you’d reached the populated part of the gym, and both of you slipped into a work frame of mind. With a nod to each other, you parted ways and set about investigating the place.
It wasn’t the most interesting investigation of your career, but your conversations with employees turned up some useful information for the law firm. The building wasn’t in the best condition, but it wasn’t a health and safety violation either. In your opinion, the lawyers were going to struggle to make a solid case, but at least you’d done your best. In a day or so, they’d probably hire you again to follow up on whatever new strategy they inevitably came up with.
You’d been in the gym for at least forty minutes. When you headed back outside, Sixty was waiting for you as Derek predicted. He did not look happy – leaning on the hood of your car, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles – but he was waiting.
Unbidden, Derek’s comments floated through your mind, and you wondered at them. Surely you were right, and Sixty was just smart enough to know that he shouldn’t push you too far when the future of his job rested in your hands. There wasn’t any other reason why he’d simply…obey. Right?
He’s a deviant. Deviants, by definition, don’t obey.
Yeah. You had to be right.
“Find anything?” you asked him as you approached.
“Nothing that will help the law firm,” he reported. There was a slight petulant edge to his voice.
“Well done for waiting,” Derek tacked on, noticeably amused.
You shot him a glare, but Sixty’s was more potent.
“Meaning what?” he snapped.
“Okay, that’s enough,” you interjected before things could spiral. “Let’s get back to the office.”
Sixty stared Derek down for a few seconds. The human man barely reacted, which no doubt annoyed Sixty further, but they both remained silent, much to your relief. Sixty got into the back seat, almost wrenching the door off its hinges. Derek chuckled before opening the passenger door. You sent him a look of disapproval over the roof of your car, but it only served to amuse him more.
The drive back to the office was tense, to say the least. You even forgot to stop for coffee on the way, but Derek wisely opted not to mention it. He headed straight for the break room when you got back. Sixty hovered at your side, an unusually quiet shadow, and you turned to him.
“We need to talk.”
He nodded, and you led the way to an empty meeting room, closing the door behind you both.
You turned to face him, spreading your hands. “Air your grievances.”
He frowned, LED flickering yellow. “What?”
“Go on. Get it all off your chest.”
His expression was deeply suspicious. “Why?”
You folded your arms. “Because I’m trying to figure out if you actually want this job. If you find it beneath you, we’re both wasting our time.”
His jaw twitched, an oddly human-like quirk.
“You don’t take anything seriously,” you went on when he said nothing, “but you act all high and mighty, like I’m supposed to just trust you with stuff when you’ve given me no reason to. You get irritated when I ask you to do something, even though that’s literally my job as the person training you. Is it me? Do you have a problem with me?”
“If anything, you have a problem with me,” he retorted, dodging the question.
“Yeah, I do,” you said heatedly, “for all the reasons I just stated.”
He didn’t respond, simply stared you down while his LED flickered between yellow and blue. If he’d backed down and apologised, that would have been helpful. If he’d argued back, at least he’d have given you something to work with. But this? It just fast-tracked you to the end of your bullshit quota.
You sighed heavily. “Okay, I’m done. I’m gonna request that you shadow someone else next week. Clearly our working relationship is a mismatch.”
You turned to leave, halting when he spoke.
“I don’t have a problem with you.”
You sent him a dubious glance, pivoting back.
“I…I have a problem…following orders from humans,” he added awkwardly. “I’m far from stupid, obviously. I understand how hierarchies in places of business work. I know that we’re all following orders from the people who rank higher, I get that, but…”
Clarity began to wash over you, and you lost some of your hostility. “It brings back memories of before,” you said quietly.
Sixty nodded. “My people literally staged an entire revolution to make sure we wouldn’t have to obey anymore,” he said, his tone dry. “And I know the circumstances are different, I know this is technically my choice, but it still feels…” He switched directions, meeting your gaze. “But I’ve done whatever you’ve asked of me.”
“Yes, but you can’t keep doing it with such bad grace,” you told him. “How do you think my boss would react if I threw a tantrum every time he assigned me a task?”
Sixty let out an unnecessary sigh, briefly looking at the floor before returning his eyes to you. “No, you…you’re right. I get it.”
“No one here is going to require anything unreasonable from you,” you assured him gently. “You still have free will. No one can take it from you now.”
He nodded, one corner of his mouth even lifting in a facsimile of a smile.
He hadn’t exactly apologised for his behaviour, but he’d provided important context. He’d even given ground to some extent. Perhaps it was time for you to do the same.
“I’ll try and phrase things better,” you said, “try and be a bit less…bossy.”
Some of the usual playfulness returned to his expression, sparking a glint of cocky charm in his warm, dark eyes.
“Maybe I don’t mind you being bossy.”
You tilted your head, your expression clearly declaring your intent to call him out on his contradictory words. Sixty clarified before you needed to.
“In certain contexts.”
A flicker of heat licked up your spine. You covered your sudden fluster with a reproach. “I’m in a position of authority over you.”
“Only for another five days,” he pointed out.
You stared at him, mind whirling with possibilities.
He stared back, LED its usual calm blue. “Maybe you can show me that sometimes it’s rewarding to…”
He purposely trailed off, and you wet your dry lips before completing his sentence.
“Obey.”
“Exactly.”
The shift of the conversation had thrown you off-balance, but you told yourself this would be the only time he’d get the upper hand. If he wanted to learn reasonable compliance, you would be more than happy to teach him. On one condition.
“You need to prove to me that you can be a useful member of this team,” you said. “Knock it off with the superiority complex. Use your skills to solve investigations. They may not be homicides and drug busts, but they matter to our clients.”
Sixty nodded his agreement. “Okay. I’ll play nice.”
You narrowed your eyes at the unsubtle remark, and he smirked. You would have to teach him a thing or two about being a smug little shit.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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the setting is also a character. many do not know this but its true. it has a history and a future and often an arc of its own, and the other characters all have personal relationships with it
Every time someone comments on my old fic, i feel like I'm an old actor getting paid residuals. Appreciate you, old-fic-commenters. Key source of emotional income, tbh.
I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you're able to write loads & make lots of progress <3
The rookie mistake in fiction writing is assuming that short stories will be easier to write than novels because they're smaller. No. This is the equivalent to thinking that it's easier to make a pocket watch than grandfather clock. Short stories are complex engineering problems.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Reblog to let your followers know that despite your current obsession your previous obsessions still exist and are simply lying dormant until they awaken and strike again
😤😤😤 voicemail? he'd be leaving messages in every shape or form. agents for months would try to decode those cryptic messages and they're all along the lines of "i miss you", "give me something—anything", "are you still out there?"
voicemail + time pressure + countdown filled with stubborn and difficult obstacles
bonus if he’s too injured to continue but is desperately trying to drag himself onwards anyway
bee anon: you’re in SO much trouble. I’m not gonna reply directly to the ask, but consider this: calling a voicemail, hearing the message but not the person, and asking them to please be okay
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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