#yeah imagine if i knew all this psych shit about belonging and social needs when i was 10 lmao
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some things are better left unsaid (Tyson Jost/Male OC): Chapter 2
part 1
Chapter 2
Summary: Mason has to deal with the events of the previous night.
Warnings: uh as you can guess if you read the first part, there’s gonna be homophobia/transphobia talked about. Otherwise, there shouldn’t be anything that needs a warning? If I’m wrong just let me know :)
Words: 2,319
Notes: I don’t think I have much! This is like a lot of flashbacks and I’m sorry but that's character building baybee!!! I promise after this it’ll be more present-based stuff. I just love the character and wish I could spew out my brain and make it understandable lol
Fuck.
That was the only thought Mason had upon waking up. The implications of the previous night hit him like a ton of bricks. His hangover was just an added bonus.
The party had been fun, obviously, but Tyson was still here. Tyson had seen his top surgery scars.
“When did you have surgery?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. A medical degree and some knowledge on what other surgery would leave these scars would be helpful. Mason really did not want to lie, but he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do.
Being drunk wasn’t helping, either. In his mind, the world was ending and his career was over after the last fuck up that got him traded…
Rationally, he just burst into tears. Not a dramatic scene or anything, he just felt his eyes watering very quickly and suddenly the tears were rolling down his face.
“Oh, shit. Okay,” Tyson set the water down and hurried to his friend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was- here, will you feel better if you get a shirt on?”
Mason only nodded, allowing Tyson to help him get the shirt on and pull him for a hug.
This just made Tyson think that the scars were from some shitty, traumatic event or something with extremely bad memories. Note to self: don’t fucking ask about them again was written in large letters in his brain.
He did factor in the extremely likely possibility that Mason was drunk and--as anyone with a brain knows--Mason was a hundred times more dramatic when drunk. Still, though, if he was crying, it couldn’t be a good thing.
At least Tyson had been nice enough to leave him some meds and water after forcing him to go to bed.
“You hungry?” Tyson asked softly from the doorway. “I heard you rumbling around in here, I wasn’t watching you sleep,” he clarified quickly.
“Didn’t think you were,” Mason chuckled. “No, I’m not hungry. Thank you, though. You can help yourself to whatever. You know that.”
“Yeah, I made some toast earlier. Fun birthday last night?” Tyson smiled and sat on the edge of the bed as Mason laid back against the headboard and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.
“You could say that. Thanks, though. Seriously, I had a ton of fun.”
“Yeah, of course. I didn’t stop you from posting anything on social media, though. I dunno why you like taking videos so much.”
“Then I can save them and rewatch them later,” Mason scoffed like Tyson was an idiot. After a few more seconds Tyson moved to get up mere milliseconds before Mason started talking.
“About last night…”
He hesitated, waiting for some kind of confirmation that Tyson was willing to talk about this. There was no sense putting it off, right?
Tyson just raised his eyebrows. “The scars?”
That earned a nod and Tyson sat back down.
“They’re… shit. Okay, sorry. I never meant to lie or anything--fuck that, I never lied. I just... “
“Dude, if it’s something you don’t want to talk about, that’s fine.”
Mason groaned quietly and shook his head. “No, it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”
“If you wanna talk, just say it. I’m not gonna freak out or anything. If you don’t wanna, that’s okay too,” Tyson reassured gently.
Truthfully, the curiosity was killing him. It was rare that an injury happened and they didn’t share it with each other. Mason took a few more breaths before nodding. Psyching himself up.
“They’re from my top surgery.”
Silence.
More silence.
Mason officially wanted to die. He was going to have to request another team change, go through the legal battle of making sure he didn’t get outed--
“Like…?” Tyson asked quietly with raised eyebrows.
“Like I had tits and got them removed the summer before I went to college.”
That may have been a relatively vulgar way to put it, but it was true. It was the simplest and least-awkward way he could think to put it.
“Oh,” Tyson nodded a few times. “Thats--I never knew--I mean, I couldn’t, like, tell or anything…”
“Yeah, that was the point,” he sighed and took a sip of the water on the nightstand. “Noone was supposed to know or be able to tell or whatever.”
“So literally no one knows?”
“Not literally, no. My family knows, obviously.”
“But the league?”
At the defeated sigh that escaped his friend, Tyson quickly backtracked. “You don’t have to get into it, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be prying--”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just… a long story that I don’t know if you actually want to hear or if you’re just being nice.”
“Of course I wanna hear, stupid. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
Mason narrowed his eyes at the name, but it was quickly followed with a small smile.
It did take a bit to explain everything, though. How he was drafted into his previous team, everything was fine, and then someone had taken an ungodly amount of time to hit the showers at the same time Mason had been in there.
“Oh, fuck! You scared me,” Mason huffed when he heard the water turn on just across from him.
“What’cha being jumpy for?” the taller guy laughed.
“I’m not jumpy,” Mason grumbled, turning the water off quickly. He wasn’t even sure all the soap was out of his hair, but that didn’t matter. He just needed to get the hell out of there.
“Are you okay, man? You’re being weird-” the other man asked genuinely and glanced over his shoulder. This had been at the same exact time Mason had been trying to just leave as quickly as possible.
There was a few moments of silence that felt like years as the younger grabbed for a towel to cover himself up.
“Are you--?”
“Please, just forget--” Mason tried, but the guy was already turning his water off and grabbing his own towel.
“No, I’m not fucking--are you kidding me, Wright?” he nearly shouted as he stormed out of the room with Mason in tow. “Are you actually kidding me? How the hell have you gotten away with this--”
“I haven’t ‘gotten away with’ anything, you dickhead. It’s none of your business in the first place.”
“It doesn’t matter, you don’t belong here. You know they’ve got the women’s league now, right? It’s not like-”
Mason just shook his head, staring at the floor of the changing room while they were both yanking clothes on as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to hear what was coming next, all the awful shit he’d say.
It wasn’t even what he was saying that was the issue. Mason had heard just about everything at this point and had always had a pretty thick skin. It was the fact that someone he trusted--someone he’d considered family at this point--was saying it.
Didn’t he realize that it wouldn’t be like this if Mason could help it?
“Hey, what the hell is going on?” the head coach cried over them, walking into the room. He hadn’t been concerned about the loudness until it was unbearably obvious that the shouting was getting increasingly angrier and angrier. He wasn’t about to bring up the fact that Mason looked genuinely scared, as if worried about his safety.
The other guy was pissed, going off about how he’d been lied to, he’d been sharing a locker room, dressing room, and showers with a lot of unkind names, and that he wouldn’t keep playing for the team while acting like this never happened.
They ended up in the coach’s office, Mason attempting to towel dry his hair while the other blew off steam. He just didn’t want anyone to see him upset.
Once they were separated, lawyers were brought in with papers and agreements, and the head coach asked Mason if he’d like to request a trade or anything. It wasn’t like he had the option to say no, but he wasn’t exactly upset to go somewhere where he wasn’t worried about going to the bathroom without getting yelled at or beat up by a guy way bigger than himself.
He remembered to thank management before he left for working overtime, it seemed like, to figure out who would take him on such short notice and mid-season.
He was a good defenseman, sure, it just wasn’t easy on such short notice. But what the star player wants, the star player gets.
Colorado was the quickest to take the young defenseman about a year ago, and the rest was history.
“Holy shit,” Tyson murmured after a few quiet moments.
“I thought I was done. I honestly didn’t think anyone was going to pick me up, I thought my career was over. Can you fucking imagine that? Retiring at, like, 22?”
“Yeah, no, that’s… fuck, dude. I’m so sorry that happened.”
“It’s fine, I don’t even really care. I’m happier here, anyway. Especially since it’s not like you’re saying I’m a creep or a fucking… whatever.”
“Does anyone else know? In the league, I mean.”
Mason nodded. “Took a different approach when I got here. Bednar, bare minimum management, and PR knows. PR because if someone ends up outing me, I thought it would be a good idea to have some sort of plan on what to do. And medical staff always has, obviously. I think they know more about me than I do.”
Tyson nodded along, looking at his friend again after a few moments.
“You want this to stay between us, then? Or…?”
The fact that Tyson was even asking made Mason want to cry again. After being fucked over god-knows how many times when it came to being trans, Tyson was the one confirming he’d keep the secret. He wouldn’t give anyone any kind of hint unless Mason wanted him to.
“Yeah. Between us, please? I dunno, I might come out to the guys eventually, just so they know. I just… I don’t know what I’d do if they react badly--”
“They wouldn’t,” Tyson said quickly. “I promise you they wouldn’t. And even if someone did have an issue with it, they’d just fucking stay quiet. They’d be in the tiny minority.”
“I just don’t know if I can take being traded and going through everything again, Tys.”
At the wavering in Mason’s voice, Tyson reached out and squeezed his friend’s hand.
“You’re not going to get traded over stupid shit like that. Not here, at least.”
“You don’t know--”
“I mean, yeah, I don’t know a lot. But you already said that the most important people who need to know do, they’re okay with it, and it sounds like they’ve got your back. I’ve got your back, too. And if you end up telling the rest of the guys, they’ll have your back too. Even if you end up not telling them, I’m still here for you, man.”
Mason felt about eight tons of weight fall off his shoulders at that. How did he end up with such an amazing friend?
“I just can’t really come out publicly for… I dunno. A while. Ever, maybe? I don’t know.”
“That’s gotta suck. I mean, everyone’s got their shit they want to keep private but… I dunno what I’d do if I literally couldn’t talk about something.”
Especially with how amazing it would be if Mason was able to be that representation for kids like he was who want to play hockey, Tyson thought. The amount of LGBT kids and teenagers who get driven out of hockey is immense, that’s never been a secret. To see an LGBT guy do so well would be amazing, it just sucked it wasn’t possible for Mason to talk about.
And he did want to talk about it. It would suck to come out and deal with that, but if it helped other people he would do it without hesitation. That’s the kind of guy Mason had always been.
“You’re sure you’re not mad that I, like, kinda lied to you about this up until now?” Mason asked, breaking Tyson out of his train of thought.
“Lie?” Tyson furrowed his eyebrows. “Not telling someone something isn’t lying, first off. Second, its none of my fucking business unless you wanted me to know. Even then, this would be a stupid thing to get in the way of being friends with you. I know you call me an idiot all the time, but I like to think I’m not that stupid.”
“You’re definitely not,” Mason chuckled, flipping his blanket off of him and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He shot Tyson a genuine, appreciative smile before downing the painkillers with some water. “Let me get dressed and I can drive you home, if you want. I feel bad making you wait so long,” he murmured. It was well into the afternoon, and even though Tyson constantly reassured that it was fine, he didn’t care, Mason still felt guilty.
It was very clear Mason was hungover when he and Tyson left the building and got into his car, but that was fine. It had just confused Tyson when Mason unbuckled in front of his apartment building.
That is, until he was pulled into a tight hug.
“Thank you so much,” Mason whispered. “Seriously. I… I dunno how to actually tell you how much I appreciate you being so chill.”
Tyson hugged him for a few moments before shaking his head. “It’s really not much to just… I dunno what to call it. Not be an asshole?”
Mason laughed as he let go, allowing Tyson to open the door. “You can text me if you have any questions about… anything. I don’t tell a lot of people, but the people who do know I’m pretty open with.”
“Yeah, of course. See you later, man. Go get rehydrated, okay? You look like shit.”
“Fuck you!”
#my stuff#writing#fanfiction#nhl#hockey#mens hockey#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl fandom#colorado avalanche#Colorado Avalanche fanfic#avs#tyson jost#Tyson Jost fanfiction#hockey fanfiction#hockey fandom#mlm fanfic#m/m fiction
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thank the cameras
Pimms
1.4k words
Tags: marriage proposal, kiss cam, established relationship
(read on ao3)
Kent knows he’s been a dick, but he can’t help it. The annoyed expression Jack keeps shooting his way just keeps egging him on. Playing against Jack for the first time seemed so huge and built up in his head over the past few weeks that Kent forgot he could have a little fun with it, aside from wanting to wipe the ice with the Falcs.
He knows the camera caught him nudging Jack’s shoulder before the got aligned for puck drop. He’s never been able to ignore an opportunity to mess with someone nor add his own flare for drama in his life. Tonight, after the game when Jack is sprawled out in Kent’s bed, he’s knows he’ll have a few choice words about Kent’s focus on the him instead of the game.
Jack fakes and rushes past Kent towards Moony in the net. Before he catches his bearings, realizing how much Jack’s changed on the ice since juniors, part of the crowd is cheering. Jack slams into Tater in a celly with a lopsided grin.
The look fits him—semi-reserved smile mixing with the thrill of a goal. Kent knows that look on Jack; that look belongs on Jack, but only when he’s playing anyone aside from the Aces.
This time before setting up for the drop, Jack nudges Kent’s skate with his stick just enough to make him wobble. It was so quick the camera operators probably didn’t notice it. Honestly, the only people who did will have it GIFed on Twitter already. He can imagine all the fan theories about their rivalry paired with some of Kent’s shenanigans throughout the game tonight.
He’s always loved perusing social media after a colorful game just to see how psyched the fans get, and sometimes to know that he hasn’t always been suffering in silence. As a small guy, he never seeks out fights or rough play. Sure, he’s made some bad decisions that ended up with him on the mend, but Kent’s never dropped his gloves. He only came close once: a loud d-man from the Schooners in Kent’s first season as captain threw out some slurs. Most of the time, he doesn’t let that shit get to him. But that time, he saw one of the callups from the farm team wince. He had to do something. Thankfully, Scarps saved him before Kent wound up with a concussion.
Later that night in his hotel room, he spotted someone’s play-by-play during it all on his Tumblr account that PR still doesn’t know about. They said he should never try to fight because he sucks at it and weighs as much as a paper clip, but his heart’s always been in the right place. He stills follows them today.
Before lining up again, Kent takes a quick glance at the scoreboard. Deep down he knows he can’t just let Jack have this. It’s the third on Kent’s home ice playing against the love of his life with all the hockey world watching, including the fans on Twitter and Tumblr. He knows PR is gonna have his head, but Kent thinks it’s time for a little more drama and fun. This is not going into overtime.
Only when Kent realizes he can’t slow down and sees the pissed of and somewhat scared look on the Falcs’ goalie’s face—Snowman or something—does he remember he always takes his fun a little too far. The goal siren blares. His helmet skids across the ice. The air’s pushed out of Kent’s lungs when another guy falls onto the dogpile.
His ears are buzzing when the ground moves away from him. With a blink he corrects himself, he is moving away from the ground. Mashkov is holding him up by the back of his jersey, looking ready to murder. Now’s when Kent remembers why he avoids fighting and hard checks. The man can lift him with one arm. Imagine what a hip check could do!
The insults roll off Kent’s back like all the others thrown at him on the ice, but he’d feel a lot better about the situation if his skates were touching the ice. Then there would be some sort of chance at him getting away before needing stitches.
Jack skates up beside them with Kent’s helmet tucked under his arm and his cold, unimpressed glare programmed onto his hockey-robot exterior. First Kent’s thoughts went to all the ways he knew how to get emotions and Jack’s personality back out from behind that calculated look, but those thoughts should be saved for when he isn’t about to be killed mid game.
“Tater, come on.” Jack asks more than says.
Mashkov sets Kent back down a little faster than he can figure out his balance again, causing him to fumble into Jack. Jack’s eyes were locked with Kent’s, neither of them noticing when Mashkov skated away. He catches Kent and steadies him, face still unmoving. Kent gets his feet under himself and stood a little straighter, bringing his face slightly closer to Jack’s.
Kent knows the cameras are on them and how people must be banging on their keyboards about what they’re seeing, and he knows from all the years of being with Jack just how much the other man doesn’t want that. Kent ducks his head and pushes himself away just enough to get some space between them. He ruffles his hair and shrugs in a sort of apology, hoping Jack will understand what he’s saying.
Yells rise up from the crowd around them, though all action on the ice has been at a standstill since Kent’s goal. They both look up to see their faces on the big screen surrounded by the hearts and flowers of the Kiss Cam. Kent can’t help but laugh. No matter how much Kent would love to grab Jack and give them all a show, he knows that’s the farthest thing possible from how he wants to come out.
Kent’s helmet clatters away again when Jack favors reaching out to pull Kent back to him instead of keeping it nestled under his arm. Their eyes lock again, but this time Kent sees what Jack is trying to convey—what’s he’s asking him: do you want this ?
“Come here, Zimms,” Kent whispers, gripping Jack’s jersey and pulling him in. He pulls Jack’s own helmet off, letting it fall to the ice to join his own.
Their lips pressed together like they have thousands of times over their rockey eight years together. Kent feels the slight catch of Jack’s bitten lips against his own when he readjusts, holding Jack’s cheek in his hand like if he grips on too hard this moment will disappear. Their moment …He feels the tears burning at the corners of his eyes and smiles wide in a mixed feeling of relief, joy, and a little panic against Jack’s lips.
They’re doing this. After this there isn’t any going back to pretending they’re just friends that played together in Juniors. Now the world knows all those whispers following them throughout their lives and careers have been right. Jack Zimmermann and Kent Parson are more than just their no-look one-timer and always have been despite it all.
“Love you,” Kent whispers against Jack’s lips. He hears himself and cringes a little at how small he sounds, voice constrained from all this emotion bubbling up inside his throat. Jack smiles back at him and presses another kiss to his lips.
“Marry me.”
“What?”
“Marry me? The ring’s in the locker room. I can give it to you after,” Jack explains, as if that explains anything at all. "We aren't hiding anymore, so I just thought--"
Kent laughs and clings to his boyfriend for another kiss. “You dork! Yeah, yeah, I’ll marry you.”
Going from being annoyed and a little disappoint about hockey to a marriage proposal in less time than it takes for a puck to drop is something only Jack could do. Kent can't always follow his logic and where his sudden ideas come from, but he loves him all the more for it.
A lineman comes over to break them up and get the game moving on. Apparently his goal counted, though that felt like years ago, and they got a few more seconds on the clock. It doesn’t matter. In the end, he got a hell of a lot more than a questionable point out of all this.
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Kadara Suits You
Title: Kadara Suits You
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Scott Ryder / Reyes Vidal
Summary: Tactfully avoiding Reyes Vidal has become something of a past time.
Notes: Ryder is suave and cocky and arrogant when it appeals to him, but I want to see more of the Scott that's cracked around the edges. The Scott that can't sleep without waking up in a cold sweat. The Scott that loses his footing on stability and purpose when control is taken from him. I want damaged Scott, fight-mongering Scott, and a Scott that needs a place to fall apart.
AO3 link: Kadara Suits You
Kadara suits him.
The reasonings for this revelation were stacked high against one another, each more dubious and arguable than the last. Maybe because he was young, full of a reckless, hellfire energy that had him quivering with morbid fascination during each tumultuous encounter with an outlaw. Maybe because he felt useful here in a visceral way he ached for, something that left Lexi frowning during his psych evaluation and the Initiative questioning his tactics. Sure, he was experienced in combat and incredibly well-rounded, but youth still sung through his veins, amplifying his daring nature and fight mongering.
He was the Pathfinder, but he was also woefully unprepared for the job, and expectations were forming an insurmountable barricade as quickly as he tried to take his first tentative steps forward.
But Kadara, he fit in here. In the badlands, his rash behavior was encouraged, and it allowed him an out he desperately needed. He had been able to find a particular kind of peace within the chaos of uncertainty that granted him comfort in his own skin, uniform notwithstanding.
Andromeda, despite its novelty and unknowns, hadn’t phased his resolve for adventure, and he knew he wasn’t looking to belong anywhere. He didn’t need it. But a spark of familiarity in the otherworldly badlands kept drawing him back, coercing him into finding excuses to dock for supplies or information they only just barely needed. Vetra always accompanied him off the docking bay during these detours, a knowing glint in her eyes and a tease barely hidden under the clamor of the port.
This time is no different.
“Here to enjoy the sights again, Ryder?”
He snarls a half-assed warning at her, far too tense from weeks in space and underhanded questions to deal with the omniscient mirth in her expression.
Because fucking Vetra, with her eyes and ears all over Kadara, had figured out Scott’s rather obvious pattern months ago. Off the docks and straight to Kralla’s Song, where he’d bullshit with Umi for half an hour, coupling her snide remarks about the other patrons with his own lighthearted banter. Two shots down, and he’d wander over to the vendors, bartering for useless scrap he didn’t really intend to buy. He’d eventually settle on some trinket or another for Suvi or whatever illegal part Gil asked him to acquire, just to feel accomplished. And finally, as if by clockwork, Cora would radio him that they’re all secure at the docks, and Scott would relay what supplies they actually needed.
He’d take a lift to the slums, casually, as though it might be an afterthought. Whatever calm he’d be able to fortify himself with would be fractured by the way he’d keep his eyes trained on movement and his inability to quell the static from his muscles. He’d climb the dirty, stained stairway to take note of the decreasing amount of bodies lying in the accumulated waste that's sprawled across the bedrock, tapping his gloved fingers on the railing. Charlatans. The outpost had just been settled, and while The Collective confirmed their best intentions, it would still be a long time before the term “free port” would be believed. His grip would tighten.
After pacing the slums for twenty minutes, his blood boiling as he snapped at any passerby who dared side-eye his rifle, he’d finally radio Kosta, who never needed any other invitation for violence than the order of “let’s go.”
Three hours of carnage would soothe his pulsing nerves, and Liam’s shouts, hisses of pain, and forcibly subdued laughter always made him feel less crazed than he actually was. They’re both a traumatic mess, nerves fried and shredded across the graphite rocks like Karada strove to paint itself in their accumulated breakdowns. Liam has his own reasons. Scott has his. And after the violence is over, with the danger to the port being bitten back just enough, they’d return to the Tempest, grazed with blood, while Scott avoids shooting a single glance towards Tartarus. He won’t.
Tactfully avoiding Reyes Vidal has become something of a past time.
So he’s fully aware that Vetra sees far more than she says, far more than Scott would give her intuition credit for, but he’s still irritated when she keeps talking, despite his stiff silence. He knows exactly what she’s about to say, and it’s entirely his own fault so being so fucking obvious .
“Why don’t you just go see him?” she asks, her voice lowered and unknowingly maternal. “Pretty soon there won’t be any outlaws left for you to take out your frustration on.”
His muscles uncoil just slightly at her blatant concern. Underneath all those teasing remarks and backhand comments, she’s worried about him, and wants the situation resolved. However much she was able to assume, she’s somehow pinpointed exactly what he needs to hear, and Scott pushes his aggravation aside just long enough to appreciate what she gives him. No involvement, no interference. Just acceptance and a firm nudge in the right direction.
“Fine,” he grounds out, because there’s no other words to be said, and he’s apparently given her enough clues to unravel him down to core qualities. “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”
She doesn’t answer, only smiles, and for a moment he feels pained by the lack of verbal reassurance. He’s sat on this for weeks. Months. And nowhere in that long stretch of time during which he imagined confronting Reyes, did he even consider what he wants to say.
He’s really not cut out for this. For any of it.
They part ways as they always do, with Vetra sneaking off to whatever underground mercenary club she’s been itching to delve into, while Scott heads straight towards Kralla’s Song. A few of the locals stop their business to pointedly stare at him as he passes, clandestine whispers behind calloused fingers they think he doesn’t notice. Some of them look pleased to see him. Angaran, mainly. Others looked frightened. Some though, are still pissed, nothing but sneering expressions and trigger fingers, Sloane’s name plastered on their lips like she'd branded it there, to maintain her following ever after her murder.
His fists clench. He remembers his anger, right alongside the glint of the sniper that did her in.
He’d parted quickly that day, before Sloane’s blood had even gone cold, letting Vidal’s words to his associates of “Karada Port is ours tonight,” trail faintly behind him as his pulse pounded in his head. He doesn’t regret not intervening in her death, but Reyes’ mockery of a pistol shot and that look he’d stared Scott down with afterwards haunted his dreams, hungry and lucid. The email he’d received shortly afterwards cemented his concerns, and he’d archived the words I’ll make sure Kadara stays ours both on his terminal and in his waking thoughts. Thinking of you always, Vidal had boldly written. Scott wishes he could say differently.
Umi doesn’t look particularly happy to see him. She remains emotionally closed off, as always, which Scott has learned is a trained habit to avoid unwarranted attention from drunken outcasts. There’s not a lot of places to drink on Kadara, and she doesn’t have to flirt to get her money.
“Hey champ,” she greets, and Scott is instantly reminded that she’s well over 400 years old, and for all his universal experience in the world, he’s still a child in her eyes. He has very little to back up his defense for this, especially when he tells her to leave the bottle, childishly planning on drinking until his words will unfurl and write themselves across his face rather than wait for Scott to try and dig them out of his throat himself.
She watches as he throws back the bottle, tears stinging in his eyes because he’s still a bit of a bitch for this stronger stuff. It hits harder than the human liquor that he’s used to, and the taste lingers in his mouth, a sharp bite that sucker punches his gut into reminding him just how easily he can come undone.
(Bang, echoes in his head, and the appropriately timed parallels have him swigging his next drink before the first is even tolerated).
Umi smiles at him, something rare and treasured. “Well, with that kind of enthusiasm I hope you’re here to pay off his tab as well.”
Scott lowers his bottle and cocks an eyebrow at her. “Don’t you two have some kind of a deal worked out? You booze him up, and he keeps you in the loop?”
Umi scoffs, the shit yellow lighting in the club reflecting the blue of her skin to make a pattern of remarkable hues. “Yeah right. I give him booze in the hopes that he keeps me out of the loop.”
“Come on now, what good is a bartender that isn’t willing to lend an ear?”
She glowers at him, keeping her amusement hidden, and he smiles at the familiarity. His fingertips feel lighter as he brings the bottle to his lips again, social standing forgotten.
“Slow down kid,” she chastises lightly. “If you’re going to pay for it, you could at least try to enjoy it.”
He doesn’t comment, but takes her advice anyway, tapping his fingers on the slightly dusty bottle before looking up at her, aware that his eyesight tracking is starting to lose its competitive edge. Strong shit. She remains quiet, which lets him think. Lets him think about why he’s even here. It’s something he’s been actively avoiding doing, because apparently, he can work through the goddamn exaltation of an entire species with enough reasoning and consideration, but a single fucking human being in the throes of a large population of vigilante shitheads who are insignificant in the face of a galaxy... that has him tripping in his own thoughts.
It’s fucking unfair. He signed up for exploration. For adventure and discovery. Not for the disunion of feelings and purpose.
He narrows his eyes at the corner of the bar, where Reyes hand had brushed up against his in their haste to get information about Zia. If he stares hard enough, he can almost picture the Carnifex that Reyes keeps strapped against his side, modded and customized and nearly unrecognizable. Butcher and executioner, the smuggler had muttered fondly.
When Scott had first seen it, attached via a leather holster with Reyes’ tan, dexterous fingers dangling gently beside it, he had stared for so long, caught up in something he couldn’t put a name too. He’s heard the term “whirlwind” of emotions, but felt as though“brick wall” would be more apt in this instance. Reyes had clicked his tongue at him, trigger finger moving to point upwards, urging Scott to snap back to reality and meet Reyes’ eyes, a cocky grin bracketing the edges of his expression. The motherfucker muttered something about “bigger than most,” which Scott bracingly ignored.
After they had taken care of Zia and Scott’s share had been transferred, he promptly turned off Reyes channel frequency for three days. Consequences be damned. There were too many already.
“I think I’m gonna kill him,” he blurts out to the scratched surface of the bar, and then smiles, because it’s probably not the first time Umi has heard that here. Probably not even the first time today .
“Okay, sure,” she snorts in disbelief. When she sees his surprise at her unfazed nature, she sighs, leaning forward to support herself with her elbows on the table, forcing Scott to meet her gaze. “Hun, look. Every time you two are in here, I can see the fifteen different things you want to do to him dance across your face. Killing him is definitely one of them.”
She pushes the bottle back towards him, altering her advice now that he’s blown his cover -- and emotions -- wide open. He takes another drink, more bitter than before, but it goes down easier, and he can feel the diluted gold of high quality alcohol sticking itself to the inside of each of his veins. He’s well on his way to tipsy, and it’ll be a quick fall after that. He takes the swig carefully, giving her ample time to finish her thought, but she refuses to say another word until he prompts her with a sigh.
“...But?”
She studies him carefully for a moment, before grabbing his left arm gingerly and tapping his omnitool to life. He watches as she transfers a fair amount of Scott’s credits to herself, both for his bottle and for Reyes outstanding bar tab, before pulling away.
“But, if you kill him, you won’t get to enjoy those fourteen other things. Take the bottle to him. He owes you, so I suggest you make him pay.”
///
His comm remains quiet on his slightly inebriated walk to the slums. Normally, he’d be grateful, but it’s too unlikely to be coincidence, and it only serves to fuel his fire that everyone in his crew seems to know he needs to work through something, and that Kadara royalty is draped all over it. He’s half tempted to ask them what they think he’s doing there, with the slim hope that it would relate to violence. Vetra’s comments and Liam’s silence convince him otherwise.
Normally, it wouldn’t bother him. His relations had never been something he kept from public eye. But Reyes stands for everything he’s currently supposed to be dismantling, and it’s the dichotomy of wanting something so substantially antithetical for a Pathfinder to have that’s tearing him apart.
It’s early. Too early for people to be crawling towards alcohol-induced comfort yet, so his walk is quiet. He hates it. He needs the confrontation, and he’s begging for it to be anything other than Reyes himself. But the few people lingering against the railings give him no heed, keeping their heads bowed to their own problems. It’s so unusual. Maybe they see the challenge in his expression, fueled by the bottle that’s held loosely in his grasp, important only for what it’s worth. Maybe the King of Kadara has put a protective order on him, with the threat of torture the Initiative would never condone hanging over Scott’s head like a caution tape mockery of a crown.
Whatever they see, they leave him the fuck alone, abandoning him to walk the trek to Reyes private room in the Tartarus alone, bleakly hoping that the Charlatan would be out, too far away for Scott to have to endure this encounter.
The doorway looks the same as it always has; no addition of armed guards, no tighter security, no change whatsoever to make the “third-rate smuggler” look any more important than he ever had been. A turian slumped against the booth by the door mean-mugs him from afar, shadows cast over his eyes as the music thrums a new pulse through Scott’s system, but it doesn’t feel threatening. He ignores the stranger and mumbles to SAM to bypass Reyes’ door security.
“I’m detecting a moderately high alcohol content in your blood, Pathfinder,” SAM chirps dutifully in the back of his head. “Perhaps this is an encounter you’d prefer to have with a sober mind?”
“If I’d have preferred that, I wouldn’t started drinking in the first place, SAM,” he counters, fully aware of the turian’s eyes on him as he seemingly argues with himself. “You wouldn’t be trying to shoo me away unless you knew he was in there, so open the door.”
“Of course, Scott,” SAM relents, using the informal vernacular he saves for private conversations. “I will be here if you need assistance.”
With that final acquiescence, the glowing red display on the door briefly turns blue, and Scott jerks it open, stumbling slightly in his haste to get into the room and shut the door behind him, landing with his upper body pressed against the cool metallic relief of privacy.
He can hear the telltale rustle of a gun being pulled before he can even turn around, and he smiles into the doorway as it locks itself tightly underneath his cheek. God, the chill feels good. He’s way drunker than he thought he was.
He regains his composure and turns to face Reyes, holding his hands up by his head in an entirely unconvincing surrender, but Reyes is already flicking the safety back on that god-forsaken Carnifex, his eyes rolling heavenward.
“Pathfinder… that’s a good way to get shot.”
“Lots of good ways to get shot here,” Scott reasons, bringing the whiskey back up to his lips for a drink that he hopes looks way more nonchalant than he feels. “Gotta watch out for those snipers, especially.”
Reyes, of course, doesn’t take the bait, and remains sitting, pistol resting comfortably in his lap as he watches Scott meander slowly into the room. His eyes are weary, but sharp, full of a half-tamed desperation that Scott can’t quite pinpoint, and he resists doing a quick once-over to take in the minimal armor and rust-stained pops of color that Reyes seems to favor. They stay silent for a moment, comfortable in their friendly, if not strained, affinity, with Scott clearly working something over in his head while Reyes allows him the small freedom to just focus before jostling him from his thoughts.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Ryder?”
Scott stops in front of him, annoyed at Reyes casual demeanor, and yet somehow, more annoyed at himself for expecting anything else. He holds out the whiskey, giving the bottle a little enticing shake.
“Thought I’d share. Certainly a king is allowed a moment to unwind?”
Reyes smirks at him, standing up to take the proffered bottle with the beginnings of a small fire burning behind his pupils. “Ryder, we have done many things together, but I can’t confidently say any of them involve...unwinding.”
“Ah, well. Times change, don’t they?”
He’s meeting Reyes’ challenge head on, refusing to back down from the prolonged eye contact and allowing Reyes to push into his personal space with no resistance, rising to the encounter he’s realizing they’ve both been waiting to have. He knows the brazen confidence he feels is fueled entirely by alcohol and misplaced fury, but he’ll take the crutch.
Reyes hums in agreement, finally sliding the bottle from Scott’s fingers. “They certainly do.” He takes a long drink, far more accustomed to the swill than Scott’s virgin liver could ever hope to be, before nodding his head towards the datapad on the couch. “Interesting message I just got from Umi. Some kind samaritan just paid my bar tab in full.”
“Better a samaritan than a charlatan, right?”
Reyes grins at him, and where Scott’s pent up frustration and nerves are misplaced in his anger at Reyes, the man in front of him is level, the weariness he displayed before all but sapped from his expression as he roves over Ryder with hunger in his eyes.
“Why don’t you cut the shit, and tell me what you’re really here for.”
Scott’s stomach bottoms out as a tiny bit of sobriety worms its way through his consciousness just enough to make sense of the situation. He could have Reyes, here and now. He knows lust and need and aching when he sees it, and the liquor that swims through his veins wills him to shut his eyes and fucking give in to it for once.
But unfortunately, he came here to pick a fight.
“I came to tell you that you’re a coward.”
Disappointment flashes across Reyes’ face, but he plays it off well. He steps away with a sigh, allowing himself another swig of whiskey that looks more like a preparation of things to come rather than the enticement it was before. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. Alright then, Pathfinder, dissect me.”
Scott feels that familiar discontent rise up in him again, because he hates smooth talkers. Those keen to the charismatic. He knows how easy it is to manipulate people if you’ve got the ability to put a few key words together with just the right spark of inflection and the twist of a coy, playful smile. It’s a tactic he’s embraced fully, entwining itself with a touch of sarcasm, and to see it thrown back at him is daunting. Alarming. And frankly, insulting.
“Fuck that. You know what this is about.”
Reyes looks away from him, and Scott can’t be bothered to give a damn about the flash of hurt that crosses his face. “Let me guess. Sloane?”
He doesn’t answer, but Reyes doesn’t need the validation, quickly firing off his questions, the dull cut of incredibility and disjointed frustration seeping in through words he tries to portray as sarcasm.
“The more you think about it," he explains, "the more bothered you are, right? Maybe you think, why didn’t I just have her assassinated?” He turns back to look at Scott, a shrug on his shoulders. “Or -- what, better yet -- legitimately dueled her? Like in some terrible vid back on the Milky Way? Pistols at high noon, or whatever trash that was…”
“I could have handled her,” Scott grounds out, annoyed at Reyes' dismissal of his arguments before he was even able to voice him. The smuggler was good at reading people, and Scott is always slightly hurt when he’s no exception. “She could rot in jail on the Nexus.”
Reyes snorts in disbelief before swallowing another shot. “Oh yeah, so her followers could take her place? Rise up in a revolt and try to rescue her, or worse, carry on her legacy? You’re not that foolish, Ryder.”
“I would have taken care of any fallout--”
Reyes puts the bottle down on the table a bit harder than necessary, narrowing his eyes in on Scott’s deliberate wordplay. “What, in the few hours you manage to stop by during your week long expeditions? You’re going to be detailed on the ins and outs of Kadara, the underground mercs, the whispers in the streets? Give me a fucking break, Pathfinder. You’re bigger than this.”
“This is my job,” Scott argues, but he can feel his will to stake up offense falling, deflating, like the balloon of his intentions was leaking with each tiny stab of common sense Reyes was raining down on him. His argument is pathetic, his cover story is pathetic, and the only thing he has left is to faintly wish Reyes’ hadn’t seen through him faster than his own crew. “I make worlds hospitable, Reyes. I should’ve been the one to take her out, properly. It was on me.”
The atmosphere alters, with Reyes picking up on Scott’s failsafe, and there’s a moment of indecision that hovers between them. Scott waits to see the battle in Reyes eyes of whether to take him down one last peg, or to let Scott off easy, but it never happens. Instead, Reyes softens immediately, coy demeanor still intact, but his voice is littered in desperation now, in urgency.
“This needed to be settled internally, Ryder. Now, Sloane’s followers think her weak, and they’re more willing to embrace change. There could be no fallacies. I’m sorry that you think me a coward, I truly am, but I’d rather be a coward and a murderer than a bystander while people are beaten in the streets and a civil war is raged. Surely you can understand that.”
Scott nods, absently. His body feels light, his mind overwhelmed. The alcohol is working beautifully to remind him of the logic in the situation, but he still feels a pang of discontent within him. Of failure. Reyes reaches out and places his hands on Scott’s shoulders, silently beseeching him to focus on the now, to ease into the comfort of words.
“Karada is ours now, Ryder. I can guarantee it.”
“Kadara is yours, your majesty,” Scott quips back, almost forlornly. “Don’t pretend it’s anything but.”
Surprisingly, Reyes smiles at him, and the pressure of his fingers on Scott's shoulders increase just so. He sighs, his eyes roving over Scott in a way that makes him feel stripped and bare-bones and evaluated. That fire is lighting up behind Reyes' dilating pupils the longer he stares, and Scott swallows, trying to prepare himself for whatever Reyes is about to dish out.
“You know what this is all about, Pathfinder?" Reyes begins softly, his accent thick amidst the low tones. "Control. You were thrust into this job, that much I know, and you’ve spiraled your way through hell trying to deal with it.” He shrugs, offhandedly, like Scott’s shitty attitude adjustment is something he can logically explain. “Of course, you’re seeking out control wherever you can get it. Like this shit with Sloane.”
Scott opens his mouth to argue, slightly bewildered at the emotional change, but Reyes cuts him off, releasing Scott’s shoulder momentarily to hold up his hand.
“No -- wait, just listen. You’ve had to assert yourself since you’ve arrived on the Nexus, right? You’ve had to gain respect where it should’ve been considered a right, and the only way you’re keeping your head on straight through all this fucking shit with the kett and death and being a goddamn savior, is to...well, to establish your control over it. To take reassurance wherever you can get it.”
Reyes pauses, trailing his eyes over every inch of Scott’s face, looking for something that Scott can only fathom. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him, and he continues, his voice turning down a pitch, a brush of sultry and dark.
“The whole time I’ve known you, you’ve been desperate to prove your worth. You’re here now, trying to pick a fight with me to establish some sort of dominance on Kadara; to prove you’re better than some smuggler with power, because that’s what people need. But do you know what you need, Ryder?”
Scott shakes his head mutely, eyes widening as Reyes moves much too close. He can feel his own blood pulsing beneath his skin, and he can’t quite tell if time has stopped, or if his mind has relented on trying to catch up, floating through a haze of disbelief and anticipation. The gold that shimmers in the brown hues of Reyes’ eyes is startling, some sort of metaphor Scott is too wrapped up in the moment to try and ascertain, but when Reyes nudges him backwards, he goes, like all he had ever been waiting to do was receive the instruction.
“I think,” Reyes continues, voice greedy and inviting, the prickling of things to come seeping under Scott’s skin to warrant a flush of goosebumps. Reyes backs Scott up further. “...that you simply need…” He can feel his back hit the cold wall behind him, a sudden jolt against his rapidly heating skin. Reyes’ hands are moving deftly down his arms to pin his wrists against the wall, though incredulously, he has no desire to fight back against it. Reyes moves in, the ghost of his lips grazing against Scott’s neck, right above the collarbone, and Scott can feel his knees go weak. “...To relinquish that control.”
A switch goes off inside Scott’s head, as though he’s been starved for the opportunity, crazed for the absence of release. He groans in relief and turns his head, begging Reyes to meet him, which Reyes does with fervor, finally closing that precious inch of space between them.
The harsh push of Reyes’ lips against his sets off sparks behind his eyes, and Reyes frees one of his wrists to reach up and run his fingers across Scott’s cheek, as though he were a thing to be cherished. He tightens his grip on Scott’s other wrist, pressing him harder against the wall and tries to coax Scott’s tongue out of whatever shell-shocked abyss he’s fallen into. When Scott regains his senses enough to kiss back, trying to keep up with Reyes’ enthusiastic pace, he can feel the bastard smiling against him, like he’d won Kadara all over again.
Reyes’ thigh is slipping in between his legs, pressing up against him in a friction that shoots wildfire across his skin, and he immediately grinds against it, all pretense of power forgotten. He lets a whine escape him, barely audible, and pulls away from Reyes mouth to bury his face against his neck, losing himself to the beautiful, agonizing torture of rutting against too many layers of clothing.
“Good boy,” Reyes whispers breathlessly, gripping Scott’s sides tightly to urge him down, to ride the hard line of Reyes cock, hidden beneath his pants.
Scott groans at the words, too lost within novelty to feel ashamed. He’d never imagined himself in this situation, with his back against the wall at the mercy of a man who dared call him “boy.” But his already hardening cock gave a significant twitch of interest at the breathless encouragement, and Scott eagerly resigns himself to letting go completely, buried in the thick, gun-metal scent that leaves him in a phenomenal and blissed-out haze.
But Reyes grabs his chin with rough fingers, forcing Scott to meet him for another kiss, and he can feel the shaking plead in his own body, the soft keen and sigh that threatens to unravel him at each soft bite Reyes leave against his bottom lip.
He can hear “Reyes,” coming from his mouth, a soft engrossment and moan that’s laced around disbelief. Of gratefulness. And Reyes’ reaction is instantaneous, turning Scott around with a soft growl to press him up against the wall, hands trailing down past his shoulders, his back, his ribs, to land with a firm grip on his hips. Reyes lips find the back of his neck, kissing his own secrets into the skin he finds there, heavy and promising.
When Reyes finally presses up close behind him, spreading his body heat across Scott's back, the relief Scott feels nearly floors him. Something about being held down, with Reyes’ arousal pressing hard against his ass, unwinds him in a way that being the dominant partner never could, and he’s desperate for more of it. He twists one arm around to frantically grab at the fabric of Reyes’s pants, urging him to thrust up against him. Reyes follows the command on autopilot, wrapping his arm around Scott’s chest to stabilize them as he grinds into Scott from behind, letting out a quiet gasp of pleasure before restraining himself.
“Careful,” Reyes warns, lips against the skin of Scott’s neck. “I have no problems taking you like this.”
Scott shivers, his mind slammed with the image of Reyes sliding his cock into him right here, pressed up against the wall like they couldn’t wait long enough to even make it to the couch. He’s straining against his pants at the thought.
“Do it,” he says sharply, and he can feel Reyes breath hitch behind him. “Right here. I want… I need it.”
Reyes groans and tightens his grip around Scott’s chest, wrapping both arms around every part of Scott he can press against, and it’s too close, too personal, and if he weren’t half as inebriated as he was, Scott would be entranced by what it means.
“Fuck,” Reyes mutters, his accent thick and heavy as he breathes Scott in. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
Scott smirks, despite himself, overcome with the scintillating knowledge that he’s gotten under Reyes skin just as much as the smuggler has gotten under his. It emboldens him. He rubs himself through his pants, just to relieve some of the pressure, and looks over his shoulder at Reyes, whose cheeks are flushed and eyes lust-blown.
“Come on, baby,” he teases, way more cocky than he feels. “You going to do this, or do we need to change places?”
Something dangerous flashes in Reyes’ eyes, and Scott loves it. He’s thriving on it. And when Reyes pushes him back against the wall, one hand disappearing from Scott’s side with the sound of a belt being undone, it’s all he can do to bite his lip and restrain the groan that’s dying to leave his throat. He follows Reyes lead and works on freeing his own neglected cock, sighing in relief as he pulls himself out and jerks with quick, tight strokes.
Reyes moves to push Scott’s pants down further, uncovering him just enough for what he needs, and Scott pushes back against him, desperate to feel more of Reyes skin, knowing that Reyes’ cock is exposed behind him and so achingly close to where he wants it to be.
Reyes curses under his breath in response, hands running underneath Scott's shirt to touch any part of the heated skin he can reach, like he's desperate for the contact. He presses their bodies together again, testing the boundaries of their intimacy, and buries his face into the bend of Scott’s neck.
“Calm down, you can have it,” he whispers, the shit-eating grin evident against Scott’s skin as he trusts lightly against Scott’s ass, moving his free hand down to run his fingers across the head of Scott’s dick, smearing the precome with his thumb.
Scott is shaking now, torn between pressing back against the thick cock behind him, or thrusting into the deft fingers jerking him off slowly, teasingly. He audibly groans when Reyes shifts his attentions to his balls, sly fingers caressing him and winding him up, promises of what’s to come.
“Reyes, please,” he begs, without prompting, and Reyes laughs darkly against him, tightening his fingers on Scott’s hip in approval.
“Oh I can definitely get used to that,” he mutters, but Scott can hear the ragged edge to his voice, the imbalance before the fall, and if the slight shake of his hand as he moves his fingers towards Scott’s mouth is any indication, he’s as close to the edge as Scott feels.
He sucks on Reyes fingers dutifully, his stomach twisting in on itself when he hears the appreciative intake of breath behind him. He makes a show of it, running his tongue across each digit, sucking slightly, biting the tips of Reyes fingers, everything to plant the curiosities of what else his mouth could be used for.
“Dirty boy,” Reyes mutters behind him, and a smart comeback is on the tip of Scott’s tongue before Reyes takes his revenge and slides his first finger in deep, without warning. Scott goes to jerk away in surprise, but Reyes holds his hips steady, moving to encircle Scott’s waist instead, keeping him grounded as he groans.
“Goddamn,” Reyes mutters, moving slowly in and out of Scott, lips pressed against his shoulder. “You’re so…” He loses his trail of thought, looking down to watch Scott shift and move himself further down onto Reyes finger.
“Go,” Scott mutters, and Reyes does without question, inserting the next finger and letting Scott adjust to it, planting soft kisses across the exposed skin of Scott’ neck. After a long moment of shifting and small gasps of surprising bursts of pleasure, Scott nods. “It’s fine. Please.”
But Reyes hesitates. “Ryder, you’re so tight. You ever done this before?”
For a horrible moment, he thinks Reyes is going to bail on him, but it passes quickly when he feels the arm around him tighten just a minuscule amount, a reassurance.
“No,” he answers honestly, feeling emptier when Reyes’ fingers slip out of him. “You’re the first.”
He can feel the reaction that garners from Reyes, with the slightly surprised exhale as though Scott's just handed him a gift, coupled with the twitch of Reyes' already straining cock.
“Fuck,” Reyes mumbles, lining himself up. “Scott -- I...I need to be inside you.”
He can feel the head of Reyes’ precome soaked dick pressing against him, and shivers in anticipation. He’s bracing himself against the wall, steel panels that are now warm to the touch, held up only by Reyes’ arm underneath him and whatever purchase he can find on the slick metal under his hands and the ground under his shaking legs. He feels exposed, knowing that Reyes is staring down at him, feeling him tease his cock across his hole, catching on his rim just enough to make him desperate and needy.
“Reyes, please. Please,” he mumbles, turning his head to look over his shoulder. The sight that greets him nearly floors him. Reyes meets his eyes dead-on, pupils dark and blown wide with a flush covering his cheeks. He looks half-crazed, lost in the throes of fervid want, and Scott thrives on knowing he drove him there.
Finally, once he knows that Scott’s eyes are locked on him, he pushes in, slow and deliberately, letting the long drag and sting soften into something tolerable until he is completely sheathed inside of him.
“Fuck,” Scott curses softly, looking away to bury his face in the crook of his arm, trying to overcome the sting of pain. Reyes is there in an instant, bringing his free hand to loop around Scott’s chest alongside the other, easing him into it, draping his body heat across Scott’s back. He’s mumbling things under his breath, things that make Scott’s breath hitch and his heart jump to his throat.
“You’re so good to me, you take me so well, mi querida. So tight for me, so needy… you ready, baby?
Scott registers the nickname, but files it away next to the soft kisses and careful intimacy, to be examined later. He nods his head, feeling more full than he ever expected to, and Reyes moves back just slightly, just far enough away to place a hand on Scott’s lower back to help guide them.
And then, he moves.
Scott’s eyes roll back into his head and he groans at the soft pull inside of him. Reyes precome is doing an excellent job of slicking him just enough to allow movement, while still retaining that rough and dirty tug of unpreparedness that Scott is craving. Reyes feels too big inside of him, blossoms of pain and pleasure shooting liquid fire through his body with each ragged heartbeat. The sensation is entirely new, and he’s desperate for it, pining for it, scraping his fingernails uselessly against the wall as Reyes lets out a filthy curse behind him, his hand moving from Scott’s back to lightly finger the sensitive area around his neck. He’s going so slow, so carefully, and it’s maddening to both of them.
“Scott. I can’t…”
He’s sounds strung out, overwhelmed, and somehow, Scott knows exactly what he means, and what he needs to hear.
“I trust you,” he breathes into the wall, nudging Reyes cautious fingers with his cheek in a quick affirmation.
Reyes growls softly in appreciation and his fingers tighten over Scott’s throat while his other arm curls protectively, greedily, around Scott’s waist.
Then, he sinks in hard.
“Fuck!” Scott chokes out his curse, but Reyes is already pulling back out to slam home again, setting up a pace that screams of their prolonged patience and denial. Scott feels like he’s being torn in half, but it’s countered beautifully by the spasms of pleasure that wrack their way through him each time Reyes’ slides against the tight walls inside of him. The fingers around his throat only amplify the sensation, finding an anchoring grip in one of the most tender and intimate places in Scott’s body.
Being thrust into wildly by a man he’s known only briefly, a man who has proved himself to be deceitful, murderous, and dangerously ambitious, turns out to be the most impressive aphrodisiac he’s ever known. And the danger of subjecting himself to that man, letting him take full control and fuck into him like a toy, hand locked around his throat, just an inch away from pressing in just the right spot to render him unconscious, succumbs him entirely, leaving him completely sated from the desperation he’s been consumed by.
Reyes is losing control behind him, broken Spanish littering the edges of Scott’s name as he fucks into him ruthlessly, like they’d been waiting for it, like it had been missed. The feeling of being lost in sensation, of just taking what he’s given, lights Scott up like a live-wire, and he can feel the edge of the horizon slipping closer, knowing he’s only moments away from barreling over it.
“Reyes--!”
Reyes adjusts instantly, moving his hand to curl around Scott’s neglected dick, and Scott sees fucking stars behind his eyes, a debilitating combination of Reyes’ taking what he wants from him while ensuring Scott follows him over the edge.
“Come with me,” Reyes breathes, completely undone and entirely overwhelmed, and Scott loses it. He comes across Reyes’ hand with a strangled cry on his lips, a complete white-out that encompasses all the satisfaction of every moment his traitorous mind had left him wondering what it would feel like to have Reyes pressed against him. Reyes follows him, pressing in deep and clinging tightly to Scott, as though he’d never trust anyone else to support him as he fell into complete vulnerability, spilling himself inside of Scott like he was staking a claim, soft compliments still whispered from his lips.
They stay like that, a moment extended in time, wound together and radiating heat and gratification. Reyes is the first to move, peeling himself from Scott’s trembling body to pull out gingerly, pressing an appreciative kiss to the back of Scott’s sweat-soaked shirt.
Scott straightens himself up, trying to will the shaking in his body to subside so he can stand properly, intent on ignoring the sting of pain that shoots up his back as he moves into a more dignified position. He’s barely refastened his pants before Reyes is on him, pulling him into a kiss that he immediately sinks his entire body into.
There’s no heat behind it, only an echo of the crazed desire that led them to this conclusion, but there’s a passion in it that leaves him stunned, quietly dissolving into a grateful mess as Reyes kisses him like he means it, like it might be his last opportunity to do so. There’s a hand on his cheek, caressing his skin fondly before Reyes finally pulls away.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, staring into Scott’s eyes like he would be able to find the broken man inside of them. Find him and fix him.
Scott smiles, and he's relieved to find he doesn't need to fake it. “No. Well, no more than I expected. But, um. Thank you.”
He shifts awkwardly, waiting for the moment when Reyes will pull back and end the delicate intimacy that’s only in the beginning stages of infancy. He’s bracing himself for it, building up his strength to avoid succumbing to the distant pang of disappointment, but it never happens. Reyes maintains his contact, keeping Scott as close as possible, as though his desire to be near him had nothing to do with their insurmountable attraction.
“You will never need to thank me for that, Ryder,” Reyes grins, and though he’s back to the vernacular Scott has come to know from associates, there’s a glimmer of something else there -- a tease within a professional air, and Scott is nearly winded with relief. There’s something there. He came looking for something, and he found it.
“Although, I must admit that I’m surprised,” Reyes continues, running his thumb across the bend in Scott’s wrist. “After watching you agonize over it for months outside of Tartarus, I never thought you’d actually come confront me.”
Scott jolts slightly in embarrassment. “You knew about that?”
Reyes scoffs, adjusting Scott’s shirt where it had wrinkled up against his stomach. “Please. I’m the king of Kadara, Pathfinder. And besides, I can never resist watching you pick a fight with the locals,” he winks, and Scott laughs lightly.
“Look, about the thing with Sloane--”
But Reyes waves him off. “Don’t start. I can’t fathom the turmoil your head must be in, but whatever reassurance I can offer you, I’m happy to give it. If you will something for Kadara, I’ll make it happen. We're a team here, Scott.”
Scott raises an eyebrow. “Reassurance? Is that what we’re calling this?”
“Well,” Reyes counters, his voice lowering as he runs his fingers across the back of Scott’s neck, eliciting an enticing shiver. “Do you feel reassured?”
Scott leans into the touch automatically, clinging to that gun-metal scent that’s now laced with the sweet smell of sex. “I feel a lot of things, Reyes,” he admits, and it’s softer than he imagined it to be in his head. He feels more vulnerable now than he did five minutes ago, bent over and taken.
But Reyes is there, gathering up his insecurities before they can flee from the room and out into the vast expanses of Andromeda where the population can find them. His arm curls around Scott’s waist and he kisses Scott’s hand delicately, seemingly just because he feels allowed to.
“Good,” he mutters back, a genuine smile on his face. “But out of concern for your well-being, I ask that you come visit me whenever you need to work through things. I’d rather avoid you being hurt because you’re too prideful.”
Scott grins and rests his forehead against Reyes, basking in the absolute security he feels, finally at peace with accepting it from the least secure source he’s ever known. But Reyes shifts slightly, and Scott can feel the uncertain questions that are haunting him before Reyes even cautiously give them voice.
“Perhaps… maybe, I can be the only one you visit?”
Scott falters, both because he’s never seen Reyes more hesitant, hanging on the changes in Scott's expression like they hold more answers than he dared ask, and because from the very beginning, he imagined this encounter going entirely differently, despite what he wanted.
“Are you asking me for exclusively, Reyes?” Scott teases, trying to hide the pleasant shock that's steadily filling all the empty parts within him.
Reyes shrugs, nonchalant, but the ghost of a smile lingers on the edges of his mouth, and it's all Scott can do to lean in and kiss him, overcome with the knowledge that he might be able to do it freely, without questioning the cons and re-evaluating what led him there.
“And here I thought you were going to be difficult,” Scott remarks, pulling away just enough to speak, content with sharing his air with the man before him, his heart pounding in unexpected, unaltered joy.
“I'm just looking out for my kingdom, Pathfinder. After all, every king needs a --”
“Finish that sentence Vidal, and I will paint this room in your blood.”
Reyes laughs and kisses him through an honest smile, his arms winding around Scott to pull him close.
“Kadara suits you, Scott.”
But they've both known that for a long time now.
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Not Just A Girl: New York
You can listen to the first episode with Anka Lavriv here. Or you can view the footage of this interview on YouTube with English subtitles/closed captions here.
NOT JUST A GIRL: Tattoo Podcast
EPISODE TRANSCRIPT
Season 1, Episode 2: New York
Eddy: [00:00:00] Hello friends. Welcome to not just to go the tattoo podcast where every week I will speak to socially conscious tattooers about their lives and art practice through an intersectional feminist lens. I'm Eddy and thank you for joining me for the second episode. Today we'll be discussing adapting to social change, meditation and self discovery in art and building a community around the tattoo studio.
Before we begin, I would like to acknowledge the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. Who are the traditional custodians of this land that was stolen and never ceded. I'm honored to be on the ancestral land of the Awabakal people where this podcast is recorded and produced. I pay my respects to the elders past and present and extend my recognition to their descendants.
[00:01:00] I am so excited to introduce today's guest Anka Lavriv. Um, she's incredibly talented and is the co owner of Black Iris in Brooklyn. Um, her ethereal illustrative, um, tattoos are magical and her approach to her practice is absolutely beautiful. I had the great pleasure of meeting Anka when I guested it in his studio last year, and thank you so much for joining me today.
Anka: [00:01:39] Thank you so much for inviting me. I'm so excited about it. I'm so psyched to see you. Um, cause we were supposed to be hanging out right around this happened, so sad.
Eddy: [00:01:52] I'm so sad I missed out. I wanted to try and get tattooed by you and hang out and
Anka: [00:01:59] It was good [00:02:00] to at least see you on here.
Eddy: [00:02:02] Yeah, yeah, definitely. So like. Obviously you're in the epicenter of the pandemic in the US um, how are you going and how has the studio going?
Anka: [00:02:15] It's been like such an up and down experience. I don't know. We're kind of taking it one day at a time, you know? Um, I. Personally thought that I was going to be handling this crisis better than I am. And that was kind of like a humbling experience for me. Cause I'm always like, I'm so good in crisis. Like, you know, I figure it out and um, this really like knocked me on my ass. I was, especially the first couple of weeks I like right when we got locked out. We, um, got Corona and it was like such a horrible experience.
So when my fever broke and I came back [00:03:00] to reality, I was like, everything hit me at the same time. I just like had a complete melt down and. Yeah, it's been, ever since it's been like one day I'm just like, everything's great. Like we're going to figure it out. Like world is going to be a better place, and the next day I'm just like we're fucked.
Eddy: [00:03:24] It's all part of the grieving process though. Hey, like it's completely new and you've had everything kind of ripped away from you, like the world that we know and yeah, there's definitely like processing the loss. Like it's, it's, it would be weird, if we would just all okay with it.
Anka: [00:03:42] Yeah. It's just, I feel like for everyone this time is bringing up like the deepest oldest trauma and fears and, you know, all of this stuff is surfacing and hopefully we can deal with it finally. [00:04:00] Cause. Chances are we never properly dealt with it and recognized it and like, you know, ascended from, hopefully... it's been an experience for sure. Being here and just like seeing these images of New York empty and, you know, going to the grocery store and seeing all the businesses close, like the empty neighborhoods, people wearing masks. It's just like such a, such a strange sight.
Eddy: [00:04:36] Yeah. It's definitely not what you imagine the year is going to be. And then it's also just not what you imagine. Like how we react to things like, I dunno, I didn't think this was ever something I considered as being a possibility.
Anka: [00:04:53] No, it's, it's wild. Um, I'm convinced that by the end of 2020, uh, the [00:05:00] aliens will attck a hundred percent sure seems like a logical conclusion to 2020.
Eddy: [00:05:10] Shits just gone out of control.
Anka: [00:05:14] Yeah. Like who would have ever thought that all the like traveling will stop?
Eddy: [00:05:20] Yeah.
Anka: [00:05:20] Just that. Was such a such a part of everyone's life, like, yeah, it's wherever you look. You know? The changes are just so wild.
Eddy: [00:05:35] Yeah. It's, it's, it's funny you were talking about like how this experience is an opportunity to heal because I remember you posting on Instagram, I think it was before all this, how you wanted to like explore your art, making more and do more healing through that. And then all of this has just happened,
Anka: [00:05:57] Like not to make this about myself, but [00:06:00] this is like the perfect illustration of my whole life. I'm just like, let me do this thing. And then I just like get swept away in a tornado.
Sorry thats not what I meant. So I turned 33. Last year and for for this year for me was like, I was like, that's it. Like I woke up in the morning, I always tried to go somewhere where I can be around like a big body of water for my birthday and I wake up early, I go to see the sunset and like set intentions for the year, and I was like, this year I'm like, shedding all the llike skin and things that are untrue things that don't belong to me. Like I want to get back to like who I really am. And you know, it was like the universe definitely heard me.
It's been a lot of [00:07:00] shedding for sure. Um, but this was like such a, i feel like. It's been such a culmination of this because I, I've never in my life had an opportunity to just be and live and not do anything and stop like in my adult life, like never ever. So it's been a lot of thinking, a lot of reading, a lot of like writing, putting things together because, I don't know, I just feel like we all took a like a hard look at our lives and I don't know, for me, like being able to step away from my like daily routine and the hamster wheel and just like, you know, more rents, more money, more expenses, and just be like. What do you really want? Like how do you see your ideal existence?
Like what are you [00:08:00] chasing? Why are you so like obsessed with like doing more and more and more like. I don't know, it like really revealed so much for me personally, even though it's been very painful.
Eddy: [00:08:12] Yeah. I feel like, I mean, even though my situation in Australia is much easier than what you're experiencing in the US like its very much the same here, like an opportunity to really, you know, while I have the privilege of a comfortable home and food on the table and all of that, like I can really just like shed my expectations and reassess what's important to me and kind of discover a new way of life that's more comfortable and more healthy and that is not going to end up with me in agony and unable to work in 10 years time.
Anka: [00:08:47] Yeah. Yeah, because it's just like, it's just a part of, you know, this culture, the hostile culture, and just like, you have to do more and, you know, [00:09:00] never sleep. Never rest. Just like go, go, go, go. And like, that's not how life works. Like you have to. You have to go through the cycles, you have to give and you have to receive and you have to like be awake and then goes to sleep. Like just
Eddy: [00:09:16] Absolutely its very toxic like this way of life I've become accustomed to. And I think for me, like just sitting at home with my cats and watching them, like they do things when they want to. They rest when they need to. They eat if they're hungry. I was just kinda like, why can't, I know its stupid, but why can't I live like a cat?
Anka: [00:09:36] That's so funny you said that because I was thinking the same thing. I was like, no. When you scratch them and they don't want to be scratched anymore, they just turn away from you. They're like, I'm done. I do not enjoy that im leaving.
So it's been really eye opening for me. I, you [00:10:00] know, I was supposed to go to back home for a while and my sister and I were planned this whole trip. We were supposed to go to Budapest and like do all this cool stuff. Like I spend one week with my sister in the past 14 years.
Eddy: [00:10:18] Wow.
Anka: [00:10:19] So I was really looking forward to it, and it was so heartbreaking to just like cancel everything, but
Eddy: [00:10:29] Oh, I'm so sorry. That would have been hard.
Anka: [00:10:32] Yeah. And the other thing is the crap with immigration. You know, it's just like doing all this stuff with green cards, but it's, again, you know, it's, it's making me think maybe its not, you know, I'm not meant to live here for forever. Yeah. I don't know. Yeah.
Eddy: [00:10:52] Things might change, you never know.
Anka: [00:10:55] I hope so. Yeah. I really hope so.
Eddy: [00:10:58] Yeah. So will [00:11:00] you, for our listeners, like you were born and grew up in Ukraine? Um, yeah. And that like must have really impacted how you experience life, especially in the US like having such a different background and also like being more adaptable and stuff. Cause you mentioned that you did experience poverty as a child as well.
Anka: [00:11:24] So I was born like three years, four years before Soviet union, disassembled. And you know. I actually like talking to my parents helped me a lot to deal with what's going on right now because they were in the situation where they had like two youngkids. They're everything they knew in life, just like broke and you know the belief system, the like just, it just collapsed and they had to [00:12:00] pick up the pieces.
Like. You know, all I remember from my childhood is like standing in line with my mom all the time for like to buy bread or like milk or whatever. Yeah. And we didn't have money for a couple of years because you know, the Soviet currency was obviously done, but we didn't have our own currency. So we had these, like the temporary money that was called coupons, and like a loaf of bread costs like 2 million coupons. It was just like, so insane.
Eddy: [00:12:38] That is insane
Anka: [00:12:40] Yeah.
Eddy: [00:12:41] It must be confronting like seeing people complaining about not being able to go to a hairdresser when you're like, um, I couldn't buy bread.
Anka: [00:12:49] Yeah. So, but, you know, it's like I didn't know any other way of life, so it was just like, and honestly, like most people were in the same boat. Um, but. [00:13:00] I find it so interesting that, you know, like in Soviet union it was all about kind of, you know, theoretically it was about equality and everyone having the same amount. And, and then once it all collapsed, it was just complete madness. Like people were just like murdering each other for money and yeah, it was like, yeah, human nature, like
Eddy: [00:13:26] Humans.
Anka: [00:13:28] It comes through no matter what. Um, yeah, but. It is very, it's very different here. It took me a while to get used to it. I've always loved New York and I don't think that I would have stayed here if I wasn't in New York. Cause when I first moved to US, I was in ocean city, Maryland and it wasn't my favorite place, it was a strange place to be [00:14:00] when you first get here.
Um, but then they came to me. I was supposed to go home and I came to New York for two weeks to see a friend, and I was like, I'm not going anywhere. And went and threw my tickets and stayed. And like, that's the shit that you do when you're 19.
Eddy: [00:14:23] It seems like such an amazing city to be in though if you are creative because of the possibilities around you and like all of the different cultures coming together and just the art world in general is really, it seems to be really celebrated there.
Anka: [00:14:38] The diversity like was so it was like my favorite thing because I did not experience that at home at all. But like now things are different, but not when I was growing up, it was just. You know, we had like people from peace Corps come and like we were like all going at them, like wow [00:15:00] Americans such a such a site. Yeah. So I really do appreciate this aspect of living here. And just. I dunno. I felt like, and I still do sometimes when I go places like you feel though kind of the wall of people treating you differently when you're from somewhere else. And in New York, I, I never really experienced that because everyone's pretty much from somewhere else.
And like I worked at a Mexican restaurant for many years and it was just like. You know, so many different people from so many backgrounds and everyone is just like getting along and doing this crazy thing like this, you know, high pressure, like really weird and nothing like being a bartender in New York [00:16:00] city. It was like a bootcamp of life
Eddy: [00:16:06] That's such a good way to put it. That's what I found fascinating about New York as well, because I live in quite a small city in Australia and it's very like working class white like. You know, we're a bunch of colonizers here and there's not a lot of diversity. And yeah. So when I came to New York and I was hearing all of these different languages and seeing all of this different cultural dress as well, being adapted into modern fashion, and it was fucking amazing and beautiful and fascinating. And also like seeing the museums and galleries having more diversity in like what they were displaying as well, rather than just everything by old white men.
Anka: [00:16:48] I got here and I was like, how am I supposed to like un-see this and unexperience this and just go back to like the same old lifestyle? I was like, I can't, I'm corrupted [00:17:00] right now. I can not leave. I remember the moment when I was walking on the Brooklyn bridge for the first time and I was like. That's it. Like I can't do anything about this. Like I have to stay here.
Eddy: [00:17:17] That's so good. Did you start tattooing in New York?
Anka: [00:17:21] I just started tattooing back home, actually. I started tattooing when I was 15
Eddy: [00:17:26] Oh wow.
Anka: [00:17:28] I always have been like obsessed with the idea and I really don't remember where I got the the idea in my head because that's not something I was around. It's not something that was like very developed at the time where I'm from and I just had these like little flash sheets and I would like draw on my friends and my neighborhood and then like.
When I turned 15 my dad was like, okay, you have to like stop asking me [00:18:00] for money and you have to go get a job. Like, what do you want to do? And I was like, I want to be a tattoo artist. And like, my dad asked his friend to teach me how to, yeah. Like I didn't appreciate it at the time, you know? And now I'm just like, this is really cool.
Eddy: [00:18:17] Thats awesome
Anka: [00:18:20] And, uh, like. I talked to so many clients who are like oh man and I'm like almost 40 and my mom still doesn't know I have tattoos and I'm just like, that makes me really appreciate like how cool my parents were.
Eddy: [00:18:40] That's so cool,
Anka: [00:18:42] Yeah. So I got my apprenticeship. I like literally my first day ever of my apprenticeship. I was supposed to just sit there and watch the guy and like, you know, clean the studio and stuff and his client didn't show up. And the guy [00:19:00] was like, all right, get, take the machine and like, go over my old tattoo. Like I have never seen a tattoo machine in real life. Like,
Eddy: [00:19:10] Wow
Anka: [00:19:10] I, completely blacked out. Like I just don't remember anything about it. The first day of my apprenticeship
Eddy: [00:19:21] That is amazing.
Anka: [00:19:23] It was like, you know, we were like soldering needles, like it was very, very different. And I'm sure it was very unsanitary because they had some like autoclaves, but they were like a million years old. Yeah.
Eddy: [00:19:41] That's really cool that you got to experience, I guess, that old world of tattooing like,
Anka: [00:19:47] Yeah.
Eddy: [00:19:48] Before this, like new age brought in by social media where everything's kind of changed and you just buy things in packets now and like, actually the person was smoldering needles. I've only done it once, but it's really [00:20:00] incredible.
Anka: [00:20:01] And, um, we went to get me a license to some guy's place and he was like, you know, it's gonna be this much money. And like, I gave him the money and he just like, wrote this like license for me. Like completed this training. It was just like everything was just such bullshit because it was a very different in Ukraine and yeah you can pretty much buy yoursef whatever you want, definitely a very unconventional story.
Eddy: [00:20:42] I love it
Anka: [00:20:43] But then we're like, I started college and I was like practicing on all my college friends and yeah. And then I moved here and I fell out [00:21:00] of it for a long time cause it was, you know, things are a little different here. Yeah. So, you know, it took me a while to get back to it. Like a long while, but I, I've always drawn, I always made art work and I actually started showing around Brooklyn, Manhattan and like getting invited into like a bunch of art shows and that's how people were like well, you know, she can draw, so how bad can she be at tattooing? And they was like, let me practice on them.
Eddy: [00:21:37] That's awesome. It's cool that you had the opportunity to establish yourself as an artist first. Like I think that that sometimes gives you a much stronger foundation to build a career upon. Like
Anka: [00:21:49] I still think that I still, like for me, I'm an artist first. And tattooing is just like a medium and like a way [00:22:00] of life that I'm super grateful for, but it's kind of always like second for me.
Eddy: [00:22:08] Yeah. I think that. That's a good thing in a lot of ways though, because that means your focus is on good design and beautiful art rather than making money. Sometimes people who are just tattooers by trade, like their focus is so different,
Anka: [00:22:25] But like even saying this, like making me sweaty, somebody is listening. But if its how I feel. Trying to be honest.
Eddy: [00:22:43] I had, um, how did you come to the point where you were using, like the imagery you use its like, it's very powerful, like you see a lot of goddesses represented in your work and stuff. Is that like a cultural thing or is that a personal thing? Like what's kind of [00:23:00] informed that subject matter.
Anka: [00:23:02] So it's definitely a personal thing. And, um, I usually, like, my process is usually like when I work on like bigger drawings is that like, I get the imagery from, from meditation basically. And I just get these kind of like flashing images of like how the layout is going to be and I like quickly draw it out. And at this point I kind of, you know, and I, I just know that like, if I try to like come up with something, it just, it doesn't feel right.
But when I, like when it comes to me, like it's always super smooth the process of like putting it out there. So, yeah, I do a lot of meditation and it like absolutely changed my life for so much better in every possible way and just kind of [00:24:00] like tuning into this, like, I don't want to say channeling because it's not channeling, but it's just like letting letting the process come to you versus like trying to squeeze something out because I'm sure every artist can relate to the feeling of, you know, being like come on, let's, let's create something awesome and you're just sitting there frustrated at the white page.
Eddy: [00:24:30] Absolutely, it probably what makes your work so unique and authentic? The fact that it. Literally just flowing from you and you just, you're just like this vessel to like express whatever's coming through you and you're giving it a space. That's, that's like very powerful.
Anka: [00:24:49] It took a really long time to like tune into it because I I have like a complex of like, Oh, I don't have art education. [00:25:00] So I felt like really inferior for like imposter syndrome as we always, like, we all have, I'm sure. Um, and I would look at my work that looked like my work and I didn't want it to look like my work. I wanted it to look like something that I thought was better and I would just like get so frustrated.
Like, why? Why is it like this? Like why does it look like this? And until I started appreciating that, like, you know, this is how you do it. Like you can change it. You can try different ways where you always go back to that specific style. Um, like things got so much better for me.
Eddy: [00:25:48] Yeah. Oh, that's awesome. Cause I've always been like a big believer in, if you just do what feels right for you and what feels natural then there's the space for everyone. Like we don't have to [00:26:00] compete, and you just get to be yourself and you get to enjoy the process of art making more and it it contributes in a much more positive way to the world.
Anka: [00:26:09] But I think to get to that, to be able to just let this expression fully come, like you have to work through so much, so much to learn and
Eddy: [00:26:20] That's something I struggle with
Anka: [00:26:22] So many layers of crap and like capitalistic shit. And you know, it's like I've only gotten there through doing like really a huge amount of inner work.
Eddy: [00:26:36] Yeah. Cause we're conditioned to hate ourselves and to be numb so that we just follow and do what we're told. But actually like acknowledging yourself and looking at how you feel and processing it, that is a very difficult thing to do.
Anka: [00:26:51] Yeah. And I like have been pretty like, you know, in hindsight, like I look back at my life and I'm just like. Whoa, [00:27:00] you really did whatever you wanted then. You know? Like when I was like, I'm staying here, and my parents were like, what are you talking about? Like you are 19 years old, just turned 19 like you don't have any money or any friends. Like, and that was just like, no, I feel it in my gut that I like, this is where I have to be.
And you know, you do a lot of this and like some of the decisions look very like bad at the moment, but over time you're like, Whoa, like really kind of, I don't even know what I'm trying to say, but I'm trying to say that like I've kind of trained myself to follow like that instinct, you know, when you just feel like something is right and like you have to act on it. Like even though it looks. Like kind of crazy.
Eddy: [00:27:58] Yeah. That's awesome.
[00:28:00] Anka: [00:28:00] And I think it's same thing in, in like following your voice in any kind of artwork.
Eddy: [00:28:07] Yeah, yeah, yeah. And you, I mean, you take that kind of approach with your customers as well. Like your whole process is very like, I guess, spiritual or ritualistic like, so to speak, like, um, you know, how do you, how do you go about like, giving your customers an experience like, like that where they're able to help channel themselves into what they're getting tattooed by you?
Anka: [00:28:36] I think like our job is such a unique opportunity to connect with people on like such deep level, like right off the bat. Sometimes I like to ease the tension I like sometimes talk to people about how absurd this is that you like, come to someone that you've never met and you were like, hi, nice to meet you. Like I'm going to shave you now [00:29:00] poke you with needles for awhile and then you'll pay me or it
Eddy: [00:29:07] Next level.
Anka: [00:29:09] It's crazy. And like sometimes I just block it out because when you start thinking about it, it's it's unbelievable. Truly, you know, but I, I'm so happy that I get to do this because the genuine experiences that you have with people is like nothing else I can think of.
Eddy: [00:29:33] Yeah.
Anka: [00:29:33] And you know, people just like tell you. Things that are so personal, and I'm actually like, I hate small talk. I was a bartender for 10 years and I had to do so much small talk that I just cannot even, I can't, I cannot stand being like the weather is good.
Eddy: [00:29:58] Get to the deep stuff, Tell [00:30:00] me what your soul says
Anka: [00:30:02] Like. I do not mind. When people will share like really personal stuff with me. Like, you know, it goes into like another territory where you have to set boundaries for yourself. Because I started getting to the point where I was like, I, I love connecting with my clients. I love talking about the deep stuff. But at the end of the day, I feel like I got run over by the truck and because I am an empathetic person and I like really take everything to heart. And I didn't even realize how much it like built up in me until this time where we can just like sit home and donothing and think about our lives. And I was like, wow. Like I didn't realize how tired I was. And like, not so much so [00:31:00] physically, but. Emotionally.
Eddy: [00:31:02] Yeah.
Anka: [00:31:04] Like sometimes just sit here and like stare at the wall for like an hour and then like, I dunno, it's just like hits me like the level of of exhaustion that was there and I didn't even know.
Eddy: [00:31:20] We do so much emotional labor in our tattooing that like it does, it does take a huge hit. Like on our bodies.
Anka: [00:31:31] It's the trap where you're like, well, you know, I love what I do. I love my clients. I love, and you feel guilty admitting to yourself that like, maybe I need help or maybe I need rest. And you just like keep calling yourself. Oh, well you're just being ungrateful. Or you know, whatever. You were like being a brat. Like at least I do that. And you know, I worked enough shitty jobs for [00:32:00] years that just like made me hate my life, be so depressed and like I just never wanted to do anything else. Like, honestly, I try not like a huge broad spectrum of jobs, but like, enough different fields to just like say, I don't want to do anything else.
Eddy: [00:32:23] Yeah. Yeah. I'm the same. I think when you're a creative, like and you're not doing something that's in that ballpark. It's life is very miserable.
Anka: [00:32:34] Yeah. But then you know, you have to find a way to like recognize that you're a person too, and sometimes you need a break and. Like, I'm so amazed that like, you know, we have so many guests now and meeting a couple of people who are truly like, yeah, you know, I go and they work for like a month and then I [00:33:00] go away for three months and I rest. Its a dream
Eddy: [00:33:06] It doesn't occur to you that that's actually a possibility and that it's okay to rest.
Anka: [00:33:11] Like, why not? You know, we like this, this illusion that we're not in control of our lives and our schedules, like I still have the mindset of working for someone, even though I'm working for myself, and I always used to say like if I worked for myself, I would be so chilling all the time. And I'm like, I'm the meanest boss I've ever had. It's just like. Maybe it's time to look like what's beneath this, like, you know?
Eddy: [00:33:55] Yeah.
Anka: [00:33:56] And just like do learn to be kinder to ourselves. [00:34:00] I don't know,
Eddy: [00:34:04] Theres a lot of things to unlearn there.
Anka: [00:34:08] And for me personally, when I'm not kind to myself and the like overworked and cranky. And when someone's complaining about it, I'm like, Oh, whatever. Like you don't need to work that hard. You know? Like I stop myself and I'm like, Oh, like talking, like who's saying those things
Eddy: [00:34:30] We, we do start to judge other people through that nasty lens that like we apply to our own lives and it's very, very toxic and
Anka: [00:34:40] Yeah. How much have you produced?
Eddy: [00:34:45] Yeah. I hate that. Like we don't have to produce anything. It's okay to sit on your ass like there's other ways to contribute to society as well. I think just kindness and love and there's [00:35:00] other ways to contribute without having to make money and
Anka: [00:35:03] Yeah
Eddy: [00:35:04] Like working.
Anka: [00:35:06] Yeah. And I've been, I've had so many realizations during this time, you know, on like what really drives me here. And i, you know, like if it's not oversharing, I have been sober for four and a half years now, and that is something that I never thought that I was going to be able to pull off.
Eddy: [00:35:33] That's amazing.
Anka: [00:35:35] Thank you. Um, so proud, cause you know, it's been like a really, really long road for me and changed my life completely. But it was so much stuff was not processed and it's still not, and just like when [00:36:00] you live your life a certain way and then you can't do your usual coping mechanism anymore, like lots of things come up and you react to things in a way where you just like explode over, nothing, you know? And you're just like, what am I doing this?
And it's, it's just because you, you don't have your crutch anymore. You can't, you know, you can't just like check out or numb out. You have to actually go through the painful experiences. And I've been having like a lot of things from like the residue from that come up in this time. And just like the way I'm able to deal with things as a sober person is so much better.
Eddy: [00:36:53] That's amazing.
Anka: [00:36:54] And again, you know, just like meditating on things and being able [00:37:00] to separate yourself from like this part of you that's like freaking out and being able to. Like almost have a conversation with it and be like, what do you need? You know, what are you missing right now? Like what? What really is the problem? It's not really that email thats making you jump out of your skin.
Eddy: [00:37:22] That like internal self-parenting where you've just got to calm yourself down and be like it's ok, what's the next thing
Anka: [00:37:30] With dealing with clients so much? Cause I, I used to, like when I first started, I would like let myself get like, cranky with someone if they would, you know, not act the way I wanted. And, uh, yeah. So the past couple of years, my view on it changed so much and I'm just like. You do what you need to do. If someone's driving you [00:38:00] crazy, you go to the bathroom, scream in the roll of toilet paper.
But like because this, like, I feel like when you get tattooed, like it's such a hyper hightened experience. It's such a like hightened state. You have to be so aware of what you're saying, how you're acting, because like the smallest thing that's so insignificant to, you can set someone off like set off their, their past trauma or you know, you just have to be so careful. And then that's all they remember about their experience, no matter how amazing the tattoo is.
Eddy: [00:38:43] Yeah. And sometimes when like people's trauma is triggered during a tattoo, they can associate that trauma then with the tattoo that they have to look at on the skin every day and that it can really like compact the trauma for them. And [00:39:00] like we have, even though tattooing is not essential, so to speak, we do have a much more important role in people's lives than we realize and we have a lot more responsibility to to be cautious with how we treat people and to be more considerate and empathetic.
Anka: [00:39:21] Yeah, absolutely. It is. I don't know. You know, for me, it's, I take it as a huge responsibility because you are with the person in a very vulnerable moment for one reason or another. And that's why I think it's so damaging and toxic to just perpetuate this culture where like, just suck it up. Just lay there, you know, just shut up and sit there. Who needs this? We all have enough trauma already. Like we don't need more.
Eddy: [00:39:55] Absolutely.
Anka: [00:39:55] We dont need to be paying for an experience that's going to traumatize us.
[00:40:00] Eddy: [00:40:00] And there's lots of little things we can do to help our client have a better experience. Like I, I play music that's got like a softer beat, so that brings the heart rate down a bit, you know, keep them hydrated, you know, do everything I can to relax their body, offer them more pillows, you know, like,
Anka: [00:40:18] Yeah, absolutely.
Eddy: [00:40:20] If we're not always able to be there emotionally for our customers, like it makes sense to them. That way we can still do other things to make their experience better
Anka: [00:40:31] I always feel so happy when people say like, wow, like your space is so welcoming and they, I just feel so relieved like to me it's the biggest compliment because I get really uncomfortable where it's like crazy music blasting and like everyone's just like screaming on top of their lungs. Like I have like really shot nervous system after like so many years working in nightlife, so everything that's [00:41:00] like really, like, I can't even go to the shows anymore because it's just like, it honestly scares me and theyre not always the best environment. Yeah. I'm like so hypersensitive to everything that's like, I need it to be a serene environment.
Eddy: [00:41:23] You can, you can tell that the minute you walk into Black Iris, like it's so warm and welcoming, like the plants everywhere, the artwork, like on the walls, on the floor even the whole environment is like, I felt instantly comfortable there. And like when I arrived in New York, we'd had a hell of a time getting there driving from, um, Salem. We got stuck in a snowstorm. We were having the worst time and we rocked up to get tattooed at Black iris before my guest spot. But, and we will like on the verge of what felt like a breakdown. Like we just wanted to cry. [00:42:00] And then we got there. And I think if we hadn't had that experience in the studio and felt so safe and comfortable. I think it would have changed our entire holiday in New York.
Anka: [00:42:10] That means a lot
Eddy: [00:42:12] Yeah, it was. It's honestly one of the most incredible studios I've ever been in.
Anka: [00:42:16] Thank you. Johno and I like really put a lot of thought into how the space should be, and I think because we do a lot of community events, like I think that contributes to just like the general feel of it. Uh, cause that is like hands down my favorite thing about the studio, just having classes and events and meditation circles and you know, even people who don't want to get tattoos, like they can participate and they can be a part of the space. And um, it, like the community that it created is absolutely [00:43:00] incredible.
Eddy: [00:43:00] Yeah, and I mean community is really so much more important than I think we grew up realizing like in capitalist countries like the US and Australia with very individualistic, but when you kind of figure out how important community is, and you start to create one and create one in such a positive way, like you guys have, like what that does, not just for yourself, but for everyone around you is invaluable.
Anka: [00:43:28] I really think like, honestly, this is the only thing that like truly matters, because I'm like, this is the only thing that you can contribute to as like a regular person, not like a billionaire and see immediate result, like coming back to you. And that will like encourage you to, to put more effort into your community because you know, like, we feel so helpless by reading the news, everything is like, like we're all [00:44:00] attacked with these like huge problems that just make us feel paralyzed and make us feel helpless. And you know, you're like, I'm just a little guy like how can I, and it makes me think of Lord Of The Rings. It's like how can I stand in the face of the great evil like I'm nothing I'm a spec.
But when you make a change in your community or you know, you contribute in some way, where. People say that like, wow, this really helped me. Or, you know, it really changed my perspective. Or, you know, I just feel like I have a place to go to now. Like we had a person who said like, I just moved here and I don't know anyone. They felt really depressed. But now we can just come to these events and feel like I have friends and you know, I feel like home. So and I was [00:45:00] like ahh youre going to make me cry
Eddy: [00:45:02] I feel like thats success for me.
Anka: [00:45:06] It's powerful
Eddy: [00:45:06] That's a marker of success when you've like been able to have a positive impact on someone else's life. That's just, that's the greatest thing we can ever hope to do.
Anka: [00:45:16] It's true. And it's not like. Instagram followers or you know, like, of course, you know, it's a great tool to use as a way to reach more people and make contacts. And, but when you, when you put so much value in it, like it's, it doesn't mean anything. You need to nurture the real connections. And until I'm saying this to myself, first and foremost, you know, I'm not trying to preach like I'm still figuring this out for myself. Like don't put your energy in there. Like I'm obviously grateful for [00:46:00] that aspect and that I have a platform, but the only thing that really matters is people that are around you.
Eddy: [00:46:10] Yeah, absolutely.
Anka: [00:46:14] Yeah. You know what I mean?
Eddy: [00:46:16] Yeah. And we're so lucky to have that, like to have those people who, who do reach out and who do get involved and who do participate like, yeah. It just, it's a sad world when you see people who, who don't realize what they've got around them or who don't have respect or gratitude for it. Yeah, we are very lucky.
Anka: [00:46:41] Super lucky. I still, I can't believe it, you know, like where I came from and my life now, it's like, Whoa. You know, my parents came to visit me three times now and they were just like, you know, they were like, you have a space [00:47:00] in New York like crazy. And. Yeah. It's like when I look at Google maps and I see it, I'm still like,
Eddy: [00:47:12] That's so amazing.
Anka: [00:47:14] It's such an amazing experience,but I feel like, you know, like I got. I got the, like my dream came true, hands down like better than I could ever imagine. And, but I feel like I serve the space. Like this space is not for me to just be like, you know, be power tripping or walking around thing like I'm a business owner or whatever. It's like. I have like two needs, a sacred space and like I'm there to take care of the space and I'm there to like watch our artists grow and [00:48:00] be able to like facilitate these workshops.
Eddy: [00:48:03] You're a custodian rather than an owner.
Anka: [00:48:07] Yeah. Yeah.
Eddy: [00:48:08] That's fantastic
Anka: [00:48:09] It's an amazing experience. I will always be forever grateful for it.
Eddy: [00:48:16] Yeah. Do you guys have like, like you and Johno have any like kind of ideas or plans on how you're going to move forward, like after all of the madness has settled?
Anka: [00:48:29] I'm not sure yet because we're kind of like taking it month by month. Like, you know, we're still paying the rent and basically just like paying it up with our own money.
Eddy: [00:48:41] Wow.
Anka: [00:48:41] So, yeah, but you know, it's really hard to say, cause we just don't know how long this is gonna last and from what I understand, New York put tattoo shops in like [00:49:00] phase four reopening. So there is one is going to happen on May 15th so it might still be a while. Yeah, so like it's kind of like a time of where we just have to sit and wait and see what happens. But I really, I, I have confidence that we can pull through.
Eddy: [00:49:24] Yeah, absolutely. And I think, you know, sometimes when it does get hard and you reach out to the community, they will be there to help you get through if it comes to that anyway.
Anka: [00:49:36] Right. Yeah. But you know, at the same time. I just got to, I was like freaking out for so long and now I just kinda got to the point where I'm like, you know, whatever happens, happens. If we can't keep the business in this space, we'll just start in a new space. Like, you know, we have the [00:50:00] community, so
Eddy: [00:50:00] Absolutely, and you'll, you'll adapt.
You've adapted a million times before.
Anka: [00:50:07] For sure
Eddy: [00:50:10] Oh, that's so cool. Well, I might wrap it up there, but like it's been so amazing to speak to you and hear your story and I always, I really love your approach to tattooing and your studio and your clients. It's always a joy to see on social media and when I've got to talk to you as well.
Anka: [00:50:31] I think it's just like, I don't know if we still have time, but I really, really, really do think that we have to all approach it from, from like the, the real place, you know, not just to seem cool on the internet or for money. It's, it has to, it has to come from the right place because you, you are changing people's bodies [00:51:00] forever. Like that's a great responsibility. I don't know. I feel like we all have to remind that to ourselves all the time.
Eddy: [00:51:12] Yeah, definitely, absolutely. Well, um, this footage will be on YouTube for our listeners to watch later. So, um like for all of our listeners, you can head over to YouTube. Um, I'll put all of the like information, like how to find Anka and Black Iris in the show notes. Um, you can follow our Instagram. Uh, not just a girl underscore tattoo. Um. You know, please subscribe, follow, and share. Um, you know, let's spread the love for tattooing and for the amazing artists that we get to speak to.
Um, thank you so much, Anka, it's been so, so amazing talking to you and thank you to everyone who listened. Um, we really, really [00:52:00] appreciate it. Um, we hope you have a wonderful day and be kind to each other.
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