table by the door—wallet on the ground.

disclaimer; these are a mix of character analysis and straight up projection/what i picture him personally jamming to/songs i just associate with him so have fun deciphering what’s what ;)

Papaoutai - Stromae (self explanatory /shrug)

* Morto - O Terno

What’s My Name - Noshows (where i got the title for my fic of the same name; literally no relation to the story other than i was listening to it at the time of writing LOL)

Daredevil - Fiona Apple

Bombshell - Powerman5000 (idk seems like a song he’d have on like a patrol playlist to get his blood pumping. also c’mon. powerman.)

* Logging Field - Annabelle Dinda

The Nurse Who Loved Me - A Perfect Circle (i just imagine him liking how this song sounds tbh)

* I Couldn’t Say It To Your Face - Arthur Russell

Father of Mine - Everclear (also very self explanatory. also also ouch)

1979 - The Smashing Pumpkins

Jane! - The Long Faces (yes because of that incredible dispatch fan animation but i also really adore this song)

* Drinking Age - Cameron Winter (heavy on this one. also the lyrics to my header lol. if you listen to any of these, let it be this one first and you will see how i see him.)

Chase the Feeling - The Devil Makes Three (i haven’t posted it yet, but this ties in with my rerun of dispatch robert)

* Slow Moves - José González

Toxicity - System Of A Down (honestly, i can see him liking a lot of soad’s songs)

Hysteria - Muse

Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks (my robert absolutely loves belting stevie sorry. i’m not i love stevie.)

Sextape - Deftones

Bullet With Butterfly Wings - The Smashing Pumpkins

Paper Bag - Fiona Apple

Today - The Smashing Pumpkins (jesus that’s a lot of pumpkins.)

Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away) - Deftones

Breathe (In the Air) - Pink Floyd

Linger - The Cranberries

Noid - Tyler, the Creator

Oil - Gorillaz (Ft. Stevie Nicks)

It’s unfair.

You already feel envy over the thick lashes framing Robert’s tired doe eyes.

Already feel the curling green vines of jealousy whenever he’s below you, said lashes fluttering and pupils blown wide as he stares up at you in a daze.

So, it’s incredibly fucking rude of him to look so pretty with dewy tears clumping his lower lashes, fattening with each half-baked blink.

His furrowed brows deepen the sweet expression on his flushed face, bite-plump lips parting around each trembling exhale that leaves him.

It’s unfair how the copper of his irises almost glitter in their wetness, especially when his eyes roll and stutter shut when your hips give another slow grind against him.

“Fffuh–ck.” Robert chokes out, fists twisting in the sheets fitfully before they release the fabric to blindly fumble for purchase on your waist, “Sl–ow down.”

The envy continues curling in on itself until it reinvents, blooms into an almost aching adoration as you watch him. The hand you have braced on his chest skims his collarbone on its trajectory to his throat.

Your fingertips make contact with the sweat on his neck before they travel up, up, up to his jaw. They form a cradle against his heated cheek, his head easily tilting back further at your gentle direction.

“Look at me, Robert,” you murmur sweetly, thumb drifting over to press on his bottom lip with light pressure, a soft low sound puffing around it, “Open your eyes.”

He sucks in a stunted breath through his teeth before they peek open, just barely able to focus on your face above him before they’re rolling again when you reward him with another grind.

The resulting wheezing groan that punches from his chest vibrates from his jawbone to your fingertips, the tendons in his neck flexing as his head presses further against the pillow it rests on.

It’s almost sinful—how the tear that falls from his lashes adds so beautifully to his thoroughly debauched demeanor, how his eyes struggling to stay open send another wave of broiling heat to your stomach.

It’s so. Fucking. Unfair.

god, this could branch in so many directions also.

like would he just accept it? almost anticlimacticly?

maybe reader had a whole speech about it, finally able to get him to listen to them for the first and last time. their concern, their fear for his life, “Robert, you’re killing yourself. You aren’t the mech. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this, you’re going to get hurt. And I can’t just sit idly by while you do it anymore. I can’t. I love you too much to.”

a simple, “…okay.” that’s it. he can’t even look at them when they pause, almost laughing in disbelief. “okay.” like the thought of even absorbing their words would allocate too much energy that could be used on tracking this toxic guy down.

no “you’re right.” no “i can be better.” no “please, i need you.”

no matter how much he wants to say it; knows he should say it.

he keeps those words burning like a live wire connected from his auditory cortex and his frontal lobe, burning white hot until it crisps itself. by that point, they’re long gone, having offered one last crumb of support that he won’t be seeing for a while.

“be careful.”

or could it be a bit more vitriolic?

instead of pushback, it’s straight up pushing.

the walls he’s learned to build from the early days of mecha man raise on instinct. his nervous system can’t tell the difference between a hulking giant villain trashing downtown and his partner gently asking him to slow down, to be careful.

to slow down is to lose track of his mission, to lose track of his mission is to run the risk of shroud getting away, shroud getting away is… not an option.

his brain sees this intervention as being cornered in a fight, and when he’s cornered in a fight, he’s learned to fight dirty.

and so he does.

he isn’t foaming at the mouth, but he’s cold. he’s already closed the reinforced hatch to his mental fortitude.

what hurts about what he says is that they’re fundamentally true, that they cut deep in a personal way only years of being together can be. and with each word, with all the forced indifference, he can see them try to remain above the cutting board.

so he keeps on. he keeps running his mouth until he knows he can’t come back from this. until they’re staring at him like every memory they’ve had with him were wiped from history’s playbook. selfishly, until he knows they are hurting without a doubt, just to bring them to his level.

the borderline horror in their eyes as they stand with a gaped mouth twists his stomach sharply, guilt and regret beginning a dizzying tango in his gut until he shuts that out too.

“you don’t want to get involved?” he asks rhetorically, knowing damn well that is not at all what they were trying to say, “fine. leave. don’t get involved. this has been a problem for me long before you become one.”

that was it. that was the last thing he said to them until they meet again after the explosion.

like how long did reader put up with the self-destruction that got progressively worse and harder to ignore? what was the breaking point? would robert be resigned to it and let them walk out without a fight (already tunnel-focused on leads on shroud and thus blocks the mental & emotional space to confront his feelings)? would he feel almost betrayed by the only pillar of support and love he had left in his life seemingly giving up when he was so close to his goal, causing a more defensive pushback? would he be bitter until he almost dies? would he hit the bottle again?

what was the tipping point for reconciliation? reader can only stay around for so long with no change, i don’t think they’d make the move to reconnect. after settling into sdn, i bet chase would smack him upside the head after he recounts the timeline of events while drinking together, calling him a dumbass and to reach out. i think he’d be nervous. he never deleted their number, no matter how many late nights he laid on the floor staring at the contact while a thumb hovered over the block button. he has no excuse. he’s mecha man for fucks sake, why is he borderline terrified of texting an ex. has he even grown or changed to healthier habits enough to deserve the chance? he’d like to think so but some vein of thoughts he has to bury occasionally makes him feel otherwise.

would they almost fall back into old routine, without the self sabotaging? like they were never apart? or would there be a period of relearning the other? either way, the love that he thought he had stomped out with a heavy heel immediately starts thrashing and clawing in his chest when he even sees them again.