#Connor: *was the only one polite enough to not look while they were going at it*

[wickedwitchofthewesninski]

What if, after they die, Altair, Ezio and Connor get to watch Desmond's life animus-style. Just 3 ghosts chilling and watching this man's life.

I know this could be sentimental and deep and how Desmond is never truly alone or unloved

But in reality the idea of Altair Ezio and Connor watching Desmond roll a blunt after getting absolutely railed by a one night stand hit me like a crowbar to the gut and left me wheezing.

[in1-nutshell]

May I request a sayain buddy whose like goku and loves fighting and eating and is always up for a good challenge, and can the interaction be with young justice acting as their wild-card if things go south.

First time writing for this kind of Buddy, lets do this!

Hope you enjoy!

Buddy the Half Saiyan and meeting the Young Justice

SFW, Platonic, Slight Familial, Half Saiyan Buddy

YOUNG JUSTICE

It was Constantine’s fault.

Scratch that, Constantine and Zatara’s fault.

The League had contacted them both to help with a mission that required to summon ‘help’.

Constantine and Zatara were trying to do the spell, but their bickering and arguing messed the spell up.

And out popped a dizzy 10-year-old with a strange hair style on the floor.

Buddy rubs his head as he tries to sit up. Zatara: “Look what you did Constantine!” Constantine: “Look what I did!? You’re the one who—” Buddy: “Umm, excuse me?” Both men look at the slightly frightened boy. Buddy: “Do you know where I am? One minute I was with my brother and Mr. Piccolo and the next I’m here.” Zatara: “Mr. Piccolo?” Constantine looks lost in thought before his eyes widen. He walks over and offers the boy his hand. The boy looks at the hand curiously before taking it. Constantine: “What’s your name kid?” Buddy smiles a bit. Buddy: “I’m Son Buddy!” Constanine: “… Son Buddy… As in Son Goku?” Buddy smile widens. Buddy: “Yeah! You know him?” Constantine: “… Oh Fu—” Zatara: “Constantine! Wait how do you know his name? And know who Goku is?” Constantine: “My personal life is my personal life, Zatara.”

The two men explain to Buddy that he was accidentally sent to their world from his.

IN their world, his world was simply a manga, a comic.

They are a bit surprised that Buddy does take the news… a bit well.

Yes, the boy does freak out a bit, but not because he was in a new universe.

Buddy was worried for his family and friends that would soon need to fight the Andriod’s.

They needed all hands-on deck!

They needed him!

It was at that moment that Batman and some of the other Leaguers came in.

Buddy is just confused as more people in funny looking costumes come in.

He gets a bit wary feeling certain power levels, but most of them seem nice enough.

One of them, Batman he thinks, tells him that until he could get back home, he was going to have to stay with the Young Justice.

Meanwhile with the team…

Everyone is wondering who Batman is bringing in and why to, and quote, ‘Don’t fangirl’, for some reason.

After initial introductions (and making sure certain members did not crowd the poor boy) Buddy starts making friends almost instantly.

Aqualad was a bit curious when Batman brought a 10-year-old to the cave.

But that didn’t stop him from being as polite as possible.

He does not know what to do with the kid when he takes a moment to size them up.

It made him feel a bit uneasy, but soon Buddy smiled and waved at the group.

The Atlantean has seen fast eating before, he has Wally as a teammate.

But NEVER had he seen someone eat so much and so fast before.

Kaldur doesn’t understand when Wally and Dick tell him NOT to spar with Buddy, to leave that to Connor.

… But he could not resist those puppy dog eyes.

It was a trap.

Kaldur is on the ground, eagle spread and feeling the pain. Buddy is just sitting on his chest looking at him curiously. Buddy: “You, okay? I didn’t hurt you too bad with the warmup right?” Kaldur: “I am fine—did you say warm up?” Buddy grins as he hops off Kaldur’s chest while stretching a bit. Buddy: “Yeah! When are we going to start the real fight?!” Wally has a bucket of popcorn and watching the entire thing. Wally: “Buddy, I think the only one here that could beat you right now is Connor.” Buddy stops stretching a bit before thinking. Buddy: “Makes sense, he does have a higher power level than you guys.” Kaldur: “What’s a power level?”

Connor does not know what to think of this little boy.

He does his best to not interact with him.

Little kids= weak right?

Connor told this to Robin, and he still hasn’t stopped laughing.

Isn’t too phased by the sudden appetite the kid has.

I mean he’s seen Wally eat fast too, what’s the problem?

…Gets a bit concern when he learns that is not normal for human behavior.

Only starts to get close when Buddy tells the group that he is half human and half Saiyan.

Another not fully alien in the team, he’ll keep an eye out for him.

Is borderline annoyed when Buddy keeps on asking him to fight.

Superboy snaps as his fist goes to punch Buddy in the face. Buddy only stands in place as the fist in only smushing part of his cheek. Connor gives him a surprised look while Buddy only smirks. Buddy: “Finally, a real fight! Come get me Connor!” Connor lunges forward but narrowly miss the 10 year old’s body and is kicked in the back. Buddy: “And stop holding back!” Wally and Robin are watching intently from the sidelines. Wally: “This is the greatest day of my life.” Robin: “Do you think he’d fight Superman?” Wally: “Not in base form, maybe Super Saiyan or Super Saiyan 2.”

Connor did prove to be much more of a challenge than the others.

He even made the half Saiyan put in a bit more strength and a couple of Ki blasts when things got a bit hairy.

Connor gets his behind served time and time again.

But the pair have bonded and that’s what counts.

M’gann loves the little boy.

Even more when she hears he is part alien.

The Martian is the nicest of the group.

She reminds Buddy a bit of Mrs. Briefs.

M’gann has used her shapeshifting abilities to change her hair to look like Buddy’s.

Is happy to cook anything for Buddy.

M’gann pulls out a tray of slightly burnt cookies. M’gann: “Would anyone want more?” Most of the team groans with funny stomachs… except Buddy. Buddy: “Yes please!” Connor: “How!?”

Artemis, Dick and Wally are the first ones to know right off the bat who Buddy is.

Dick and Wally know the manga and Artemis learned the basics after hearing too many conversations between the two.

Since the three of them have more background knowledge on the half Saiyan, its easier for them to bond.

That being said the trio have a hard time not saying any spoilers.

Especially finding out which Saga Buddy is in.

Out of the three of them, Wally is the one who can keep up with Buddy’s speed.

Artemis and Dick managed to use their weapons on Buddy for a while before the kid quickly adapted to them.

Like father like son.

Buddy is looking down in front of the three of them. Buddy: “Hey… do you think I’ll be as strong as my dad? I mean I’m not a Super Saiyan, but I defently get stronger right?” The trio have flashbacks to Gohan and Buddy’s Super Saiyan 2 transformation and the entirety of the Buu Saga. Dick pats Buddy on the head. Dick: “You’ll get stronger.” Artemis: “Just remember to keep training, you and Gohan.” Buddy beams a bit at the response. Wally: “Yeah, you and your brother better keep up the good work!” Buddy smiles before thinking a bit. Buddy: “Brother’s?” All three teens freeze noticing the mistake. Buddy shrugs. Buddy: “I guess Trunk’s is going to be like our little brother.” Artemis, Dick and Wally internally: “Like father, like son.”

Buddy is not allowed to leave the cave too often as the days turn into weeks.

The half Saiyan did get cranky at the lack of room and getting bored of fighting Connor all the time.

Thankfully, Buddy is allowed on missions that need extra back up.

It’s during one of these missions that Buddy finally turns Super Saiyan.

Wally was not crying in the background, and you can’t prove it.

Thankfully, its around this time that Constantine and Zatara finally get the portal ready for Buddy to leave.

Buddy is saying his goodbyes to everyone. Buddy: “If you ever need my help, just drop by and ask! Bye!” The team waves goodbye as Buddy runs into the portal. Next thing Buddy knows he is standing a few feet from his home. Buddy blinks seeing someone come out of the house. It was his mother with a laundry basket. Chichi blinks too before dropping the laundry basket and racing to her little boy. Chichi: “BUDDY!” Buddy just accepts his fate letting his mother hug and cry. His own tears starts prickling out. Chichi: “Oh my sweet boy! Where have you been!?” Buddy: “Sorry Mom, but it wasn’t my fault this time.” WHOOSH! Buddy turns around at the familiar sound. Goku, Gohan and Piccolo were standing there. Gohan: “Buddy? Buddy!” Buddy smiles widely with his arms open as Gohan barrels into them. Goku lifting them both up into his arms sighing in relief. Gohan: “DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN! I COULDN’T FEEL YOU! I C-COULDN’T F-EEL YOU!” Buddy just latches onto his twin while Piccolo pats his head affectionately. It was good to be home.

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient Chapter 8

roman roy x fem! reader

Summary: The retreat dinner started as Logan's game plan was set into place. Jealousy and envy towards the others began to set in, ruining what Logan had been trying to set up for such a long time.

TW: Veganism, Logan Roy, Connor was interested in politics at an early age

Word Count: 4.6K

Notes: I had to put this chapter up as soon as I finished it.

Chapter 8: Connor Roy was interested in politics at a very young age

Logan sent everyone out of the room. Dinner was about to be set up as they had just finished cooking all the dishes. Everyone found their seats at the table. Roman sat with you, Jess sitting on your other side while Kendall was right across from Naomi, Shiv on Kendall’s side. You were close enough to start a conversation with Nan as was Shiv. Nan came out with a large turkey, setting it on the table as if she had anything to do with preparing it. She set it down before starting her speech to only make Naomi make her own little speech. Once they finished speaking, everyone around the table clapped, you following their lead. Roman rolled his eyes, exaggerating his feelings towards it. It was the purest form of pretension. You lightly kicked Roman under the table.

Jess leaned over to you, whispering. “See, I told you it was gonna get worse.” She let out a light chuckle before putting her napkin in her lap.

Kendall leaned towards Naomi and began to congratulate her speech. Instant sparks began between the two of them. You watched impressed before ignoring them for Roman and Jess. Everyone went back to their own stupid conversations before. Before you knew it, Roman got into a conversation that he seemed to get stuck in with his stupid jokes. He was asked about books, lying that he could even read in the first place. “Can you recommend anything?” He asked. Roman tried to come up with something but was also trying not to fuck with this guy even more than he was before. “Oh, didn’t you tell me to read that classic novel, uh fuck- what was it?” You jumped in to save him as you tried to think of a book you had put on the back burner for a bit. Roman looked over, hiding a laugh behind his hands, but acting as if he was just talking to you. You truly were always there for him. “Oh yes! The Pachinko Parlour!” You exclaimed. “Roman doesn’t wanna spoil it for me though. I like to experience them as I read.” You made an excuse for Roman not to go on.

“Oh yea, I’ve read it like 3 separate times. I’m actually giving her my copy. Uh- but what’s your memoir mostly on?” He asked as if he gave a single fuck about the memoir.

“Well, I’m kind of interested though. What is that book about Rome?” Shiv tried to embarrass Roman at the table. “Yeah, who’s the author?” A woman apart of Nan’s family asked as she tried to pull it up. “Can you spell it?” She questioned.

Roman tried to struggle with the concept, even forgetting the name of the book. Logan watched carefully, annoyed that Shiv would even do this. This was not the time to embarrass one another. Logan observed everyone to make sure they weren’t messing up the deal.

“Oh come on, I really don’t want this spoiled.” You tried to help Roman out. Jess decided to help out either, looking the book up and sending a text to Roman. He looked at his phone quickly, finally able to even answer a few questions.

“It’s fine. Uh- so- it is about…” Roman dragged out his sentence. “It’s kind of about this woman teaching a girl French.” He simplified it. He didn’t have a lot of time to read everything Jess had texted him.

“That’s it?” Shiv continued, a smirk appearing on her lips as she leaned down to sip soup off her spoon. You decided not to eat the soup. You didn’t know what kind of broth was in it.

“Well-uh no Shiv. It’s just kind of them, just- uh- well she sees her as a mom and it’s about identity and fucking war and stuff.” He was struggling. It was painful to watch. “It’s mostly about her family.” He tried to recover from whatever Shiv had set him up for.

“Alright, let’s not spoil it any longer for me now.” You cheerfully smiled at everyone. “So uh- what about you? Have anything you could recommend me? I’m mostly into classics or just anything devastating honestly.” You tried to take the spotlight from Roman.

He felt like a loser around everyone. It was almost as if he was a kid again being made fun of for saying something annoying. He felt such a deep shame overcome him.

“Why aren’t you eating, my love? Something wrong with it?” Nan took notice. You looked over and shook your head no. “No-it’s not that it’s just-uh I don’t eat meat.” You reassured her. She sat back and looked confused. It was just soup. “It’s just- I don’t eat any animal products and I wasn’t sure if it was uh- bone broth or something.” You tried to explain. She nodded slowly as she tried to find a solution to the issue. “It’s fine though. Please don’t worry.” You smiled, putting your hands over your heart.

“No-no. It’s fine. One of my daughters’ children is vegan. I’ll make sure with the staff of that fact.” She commented before asking a staff member to make sure what was in the food. She told Nan about some of the courses that were going to come out later that would be okay for me. They nodded to each other as your plate was taken away.

“I fucking knew you were a grass eater.” Roman snickered. “I can’t believe you would like to me like that.” He pressed. Finally the spotlight was off of him and no one was paying him any mind anymore. You were the freak at the table that can’t eat most of the food that was prepared.

A conversation started between Nan and Logan about politics and their network thanks to Shiv admitting she was happy to be leaving politics to work with the company now. They tried to shift some blame to Tom, as Tom was always pinned as some kind of scapegoat for anything Waystar did wrong. Kendall tried to rebuttal in the argument and make Waystar look better. Shiv wasn’t making this better though. Nan felt offended before looking over at you. You wanted to but in and say your opinions, but knew they didn’t align with the companies. “Anything you need to get off your chest?” Nan asked you. You shrugged before finally deciding to get into the conversation. “Well-uh, I agree with Logan that at Waystar we’re allowed our own opinions. I mean he hired whoever has the ability to interview and do journalism at ATN, no matter their political party. I mean, I don’t personally agree with anything ATN says, but that’s my own views.” You shrugged, sipping onto your champagne.

“And what exactly are your views?” Naomi asked, leaning in. She wanted to hear more from you. “Oh. I guess, I would consider myself a Marxist. I think money is just- it’s a concept we created.” You started before Nan cut you off to agree. She went on about it and spoke the evils of it and went by talking about what actually mattered. But Tom came in and shared that his view was money mattered since he had to pay things with it.

“Yeah, but Tom, do you think that’s all that has to do with who we are? For example, as Nan said virtue and integrity is what do matter at the end of the day. If we don’t have our morals, what’s going to happen when the planet dies, and you guys don’t have money to buy your ways out of it?” You tried to hit back at him. Nan agreed with you as did Naomi. It seemed like they thought you were the only one in the company who actually had some kind of insight. Shiv saw this and jumped in and dismissed her husband’s argument. Which only ended a small and petty lovers’ quarrel. Jess had to step in and settle it. “I think that we have our own lived experiences that create our perception of money and how the world actually works. But regardless, it’s what makes Waystar so brilliant. I mean look at Shiv and Tom, two completely opposite opinions, yet so deeply in love. I mean you should’ve seen their wedding. It was beautiful.” Jess tried to remove the conversation from something so hostile to something sweet. Jess was always the peacekeeper. She always tried to minimize any arguments and didn’t ever pick sides. But it mostly to keep Logan happy. If she was actually allowed to tell everyone what she thought, she’d tell Tom to go back to whatever cheese state he was from and remember what it was like before marrying Shiv. But the topic of Tom’s position came into play. It felt tense. It felt as though everyone sent digs at the Roy’s. Everyone insulted the siblings. It apparently was enough for Tom and Shiv to excuse themselves. “Do you think they’re gonna fight or…well that’s all they ever do.” Jess whispered to you. You laughed quietly.

Apparently, Jess was wrong. Tom had to calm her nerves since she went into full panic.

Kendall excused himself later too, Naomi taking notice. Kendall had gone into the bathroom to sniff the coin bag of coke in his pocket.

God, this dinner felt like a massive mistake. The only thing saving this was Jess and you, since you were both neutral.

But you spoke too soon apparently because one of Nan’s family members began to target you. “So who are you related to in this table?” He asked. “You both don’t seem very… y’know.” He pointed to you and Jess.

“Oh me and Jess knew each other in college. We both just happen to work at the company too.” You tried to answer.

“Oh? Who got hired first? You both seem so young to be this heavily involved.” It seemed inappropriate to even imply we couldn’t get the job based off of our age.  “You know also if you don’t align with their ideals. Especially the commie.” He pointed towards you.

“Uh- yea. I’ve been working for Kendall for 2 and a half years now.” Jess tried to remove herself, but couldn’t find an exit route. “As what exactly?” He asked. “An assistant.” She clarified.

“Why are two assistants this heavily involved with the company then?” He seemed to act as if we had any rights to speak onto what would happen in the company.

“Well- I had practically told Nan earlier, but they really treat us like family. I think we spend most of our days together really. I mean even the other night both of us and Kendall went out to dinner. And Logan was gracious enough, even a week into me working there, let me in his home and hosted a dinner for me. It’s a little thing they do for people who just get hired.” You lied. Logan caught on and seemed pleased enough. “But no one knew you didn’t eat meat products?” He seemed to caught on to your lies.

“No, but it was like a dinner like this. I just picked whatever I could.” You tried to explain.  

“Just leave the poor girl alone, you’re making her uncomfortable.” Nan scolded him.

But the conversation of CEO came up after Logan’s eventual step down. It caused concern for the entire family as they anticipated to hear their own name. But Logan refused to even say anything. He just left it up in the air. But Shiv interrupted and asked Logan to admit it was her. Roman looked at Shiv then Logan for confirmation. He had spent weeks preparing for the CEO position because Logan told him he had to. Only to have promised Shiv the same position. It felt as though it had gotten stolen from him. The room was quiet. Nan asked if it was true and Shiv confirmed. “Rome?” You whispered. You rested a hand on his arm, feeling how incredibly tense he was. “My life is fucking over.” He whispered to himself. Logan tried to back pedal, but Shiv wouldn’t let down. Roman felt as though he was going to cry at the table. The dinner was a complete mess. Nan dismissed everyone and Roman couldn’t be more happy for everyone to leave the room. Everyone got up, Roman with his head in his hands as he was in complete disbelief of this new betrayal. “Did you know?” You asked him. But Roman was too shocked and just told you he didn’t.

You guided him out of his chair, putting an arm around him as you made him go outside with everyone for a breathe of air. Jess decided to leave you two be. She felt sorry for Roman. She just hoped it didn’t end with a crash like Kendall. You walked down with him as you tried to have him focus on the view. “Just relax Rome. Maybe he was trying to keep his options open. Y’know, a backup?” you tried to rationalize. He didn’t wanna hear any of it.

“But what the fuck was all of that? As if he couldn’t have that conversation after I fucked up. I mean- just-“ his brain couldn’t grasp with what had happened. He bit his lip and tried to prevent himself from having a meltdown. This entire dinner was an entire shit show. He needed to leave. But he was stuck here. All thanks to Logan. And if he did anything to upset him, he would get blamed for creating the deal to fall apart more than it had already done. “I don’t know Rome, I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You whispered, rubbing his arm. “Can we just fucking go? I wanna go fucking inside.” He was basically shaking. You nodded, leading him back inside. You went into the bedroom he was staying at for the night, setting down on the bed. Roman just grabbed his clothes from his bag that he had packed and went into the bathroom to change. He had been taking a while though. You got up, putting your ear on the door. You couldn’t help but hear sniffling and low murmurs of insults thrown at himself. “Rome? You alright?” You called out before knocking. “Can I come in?” You asked. Roman got up from the bedroom floor as he just seemed to slide down on earlier as his emotions got the best of him. He had tried to hide the fact he was just crying in there, wiping his face before opening the door. But his cheeks were still wet and his eyes were puffy. “Roman..” You sighed, trying to pull him into an embrace, but he shoved past you.

“Do you think they have booze in here?” He asked in a calm tone as if nothing was impacting him. But it wasn’t working. He sounded disappointed. “Fuck- I should’ve known. Dad would’ve never thought of me. I don’t know why the fuck I even- just.” He couldn’t express his emotions. You searched the room for booze before finding a bottle left in a cabinet. Roman took it from you, laying on the couch that sat near the window as he took swigs of it. “What am I even supposed to do?” He asked. He looked up at the ceiling to prevent him to starting to cry again.

“I don’t know Roman, but I’m sure it wasn’t-“ you began to lie. You didn’t think Logan was ever setting him up for CEO. Anyone can see it. Roman was the last choice. Worst case scenario. Even with all the management training In the world. Even with the amount of times he’s been put in the COO position. Roman wasn’t ever meant for CEO in Logans eyes. “I just-fuck Rome- “you breathed out. “I just think- Logan has his options open. Shiv might’ve just taken his suggestion as fact rather than what it was; a suggestion.” You tried to reason.

“But you saw them out there. They constantly tried to insult me to my face. They all know how fucking stupid I am. I even had to have you cover for me.” He had run his fingers through his hair, tightening his grip on it. His breathing was irregular. It was either really fast and uneven or just deep heavy breathes. Roman felt as though there was a giant rock on his chest, and he had to try to catch air before he eventually passed out.

“Rome, you’re not stupid.” Your tone had so much pity in it. He knew it. You saw him as pathetic. Why wouldn’t you? Everyone else did.

“Yes, I am. Don’t act as if you don’t think so. I even fucking know it.” Roman mumbled, taking another drink from the bottle before offering it over to you.

“No Roman. You aren’t. I do think you’re very smart. If you weren’t Logan wouldn’t offer you the position in the first place.” You tried to season with him. You sat down on the floor next to him, trying to reason with him. But the mood was set for the night. “You may not have your siblings’ strengths, but you have our own they can’t compete with.” You laid a hand on his arm. He nodded trying to pay attention to you, but nothing you said made sense to him. His thoughts were getting the best of him.

“No- they’ve all told me before.” Roman tried to explain. He tried to get the words out before giving up. “Can you just fucking drink with me? I don’t wanna be a bigger fucking loser having someone stare at me get drunk.” He raised his voice. You knew he only did so because he was upset. You took the bottle from him and just took a swig. You set it down next to yourself, just knowing if you gave it back, Roman would finish it.

“If it matters, my family use to treat me like the dumb one too.” You opened up. You never really opened up about your issues with your own family. You had cut them off back when you were 16. You left the house as soon as you could and never looked back. Now it was about maybe 7 or 8 years since you’ve spoken to anyone. “They use to really make me feel like shit. Like call me a moron, that I did nothing to contribute to the family, that I was worthless.” You tried to recount everything. “But- I know I’m not that. Because I put myself through college, got good grades and now I work at one of the biggest companies in the world.” You hoped it would cheer him up. But you weren’t sure anything could.

“I’m sorry, I just-.” He mumbled. “I just- fuck- my dad just- I feel like he doesn’t trust me though. I mean- I did everything he asked. And what? Shiv? Really?” He didn’t know how to react to your story. He just knew his life was essentially over. His career would be gone with Shiv there. “I even told Shiv, I never considered CEO and then she tells me I can. For fucking what? So, she can do this to me?” He was questioning out loud. Not even that he was talking to you anymore. More just talking to himself.  “What’d you do? To prove it to them? Do they still-just-.” He tried to ask.

“I mean- we don’t speak.” You cleared your throat. “This is more different though. Roman it has to count that he even offered you. He didn’t even confirm it at the dinner. He might still have you in mind.” You tried to make him think differently.

“Fucking Nan. Old stupid bitch.” He mumbled. You laughed, getting up and sitting on the couch with Roman, moving his feet over.

“Come on, move over…” You tell him.

He grabbed the bottle off of the floor, clinging onto it as he tried to finally feel some kind of buzz. But still nothing.

“I’m sorry that I dragged you here. If I didn’t- maybe- I don’t know. My dad went in on you. I just- “he sighed before passing you over the bottle. You both took turns drinking from it. “I really-I just fucking need you… to be around I guess.” He tried to cover up what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you that he needed you. Not as in support. But right now. His ego hit a massive wall and he was just hoping if you shared some kind of feeling it’d cheer him up, but he decided against it. He couldn’t ruin this right now. Especially since he did need you to be with him right now. “Hey, no, it’s fine. Nan was nice to me. Your dad wasn’t as harsh as he was to Shiv. He basically insulted her the entire dinner.” You pointed out. He barely acknowledged any of Romans wrong doings the whole night. It must’ve counted for something with Roman. “I mean did you hear half of the things he said to her.”

Roman cracked a smile, nodding. He did realize maybe it wasn’t the end of everything. Shiv might’ve ruined the deal. It could impact her chances of being CEO if she’s willing to spite Logan this much when she knew how important it was.

“You’re really smart Roman.” You reminded him. “Really.” You laid your head on the back of the couch, looking up at him. He looked so sad. You wished you could’ve comforted him a bit better, but it didn’t seem like that’d happen anytime soon.

Roman didn’t want to acknowledge your compliments. He just didn’t believe them. Despite what you said. He looked over at you, looking down and up. His eyes stayed onto your lips a bit too long before finally looking at your eyes. He sighed once again before looking at the window to avoid any thoughts he had about you. He wanted to grab you and finally do what he’s been thinking about for days now. But again, he needed to be professional enough around you. If you didn’t reciprocated feelings it could be the end of the one thing he enjoyed having around him.

“Also what a douchebag that guy was? Did you hear him just straight up call me a commie?” You brought up, your lips curving into a smile, laughing out of confusion of the awkward interaction.

“I think the biggest blow of the night was finding out you were a commie. I mean come on. All vegans like communism.” He started to finally revert back to him.

“You’re not too mad about that, are you? I really like this job; I hope it doesn’t impact my abilities to work now.” You batted your eyes at him, leaning close up to him. Your bottom lip turned into a pout as if you were begging him to reconsider his thoughts. “I don’t know how I feel about some dirt eater working around me honestly.” He joked. His heart began to pick up the pace as you had gotten close to him. He wanted to hold you and finally make that connection. His fantasies began to run wild of everything he’d do with you if he wasn’t so scared of everything he actually wanted to do.

“Okay fine. What if I compromise with you?” you joked. Roman looked at you curious to how you’d even do so. “I don’t know, y/n, what’s done is done. How wont I know you won’t poison my food with that crap?” He asked you.

“How do you know I haven’t?” You smirked.

You still hadn’t moved away. You were still awfully close to him. You tried to reason with him, but his mind was somewhere else. Almost as if he was in his own little world. You blamed it on all the stress he had just gone through. But in reality, his mind kept playing every possibility in his head. How you would feel. How you’d taste. How your bodies would just know what to do together. But Roman didn’t want to ruin what you had. This work dynamic worked so well. You actually cared about him. He couldn’t waste whatever you both had for some stupid mistake he might regret. But leave it up to Roman to let his body work faster than his mind.

His hands reached up to your cheeks, landing there before pulling you into him even further. He messed up. He knew he did. But it had been too late. He finally closed that gap between the two of you. Your body didn’t know how to react. Roman just kept his lips onto you, hoping you’d reciprocate. He was begging, pleading for it in his own mind. His hand leaving your cheek and fell down to hold onto your waist. The other remained but loosened his grip onto you.

You kissed back. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact you wanted to kiss him. You moved closer over to him, adjusting to face him better, moving onto his lap. Your armed draped around his neck as your lips moved with his. Roman finally relaxed under your touch. He didn’t fuck up. This wasn’t gonna end in a complete fucking disaster. His hand ran through your hair, the other roaming your body. There was a quickness to the kiss. Almost as if this was the last time this would ever happen again. A kind of hunger that had been there for awhile. A new fear set in. He didn’t know how to deescalate this. He had no intention on furthering this with anything but a kiss. Possibly dry humping. But his fear of intimacy was starting to creep up. He just thought he’d let it become an issue if it started to become one.

You couldn’t believe what you were even doing. You didn’t even think you had a crush on him. Sure, a few fantasies. But you weren’t ever sure if you’d actually go for it or ever really happen. But it was. Your heart was practically beating out of your own chest, adrenaline running through you.

The kiss finally broke apart, both of you just looking at one another, unsure of where to go from here. There was a sense of nervousness. An anxiety of whatever relationship you both had before was officially gone. “Can you stay the night? Please.” He began to beg. He didn’t want sex out of this. He wanted to know your feelings towards him, if you even felt the same. You held your breath, unsure of how to respond to him. You didn’t have any intentions of sleeping with him. What if people found out? “Uh- Roman… this was just- “You tried to let him down easy.

“Please. Just- I don’t wanna fuck you or anything. Just stay here.” He asked, his hands still around your waist. He drew little shapes into your hips out of nervousness of how you were going to even respond. He was worried you’d reject him.

“Okay Roman, I’ll stay the night.” You smiled lightly before being met with a softer kiss from Roman. You let yourself get drawn back to him.

He laid back further, allowing you to straddle his waist. His hands sliding down to your thighs as you laid down to kiss him back. It wasn’t as rough and eager as the first one. It was sweeter, calmer. It felt natural between the two of you. This was extremely wrong, but you wanted this just as badly as him.

Notes: It finally happened! AHHH

Chapter 9

[not-neverland06]

Broken Machinery

Pt. 7 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: We’re nearly at the end, if you’ve stayed this long, thank you so much, this being my first fan fiction, these characters mean a lot to me.

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Elijah Kamski and his greasy man-pony, Hank’s insult towards Perkins (that scene still makes me laugh), 

Word Count: 5.3k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

You and Hank were standing side-by-side in the snow. It was the closest Connor had ever seen either of you, Hank’s phone was outstretched between you both while you leaned in to hear whoever was on the other side. 

Connor got out of the car and made his way over to you both. Your face was pale as you leaned against the car, disbelief streaking across your features. “Is everything okay?”

Stress levels were high for the both of you, Connor could only assume that whoever had been on the other side of that call hadn’t brought you good news. 

When it was clear you weren’t going to talk, Hank did, “Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants-”

“It was a peaceful protest,” you were glaring at Hank, you seemed more angry than concerned. 

“Well Chris was almost shot! Doesn’t sound very fucking peaceful to me!”

You scoffed and kicked off the car, “They shot first, and the deviants spared them. It sounds like the androids showed more humanity than the fucking humans did.”

“Chris just became a father, you want to be the one to tell his daughter that her daddy died so some robots-“

“That’s the thing, Hank, he didn’t die! They didn’t kill him, they spared him, have you ever taken your head out of your ass long enough to ask yourself if you’re on the right side of this war?” You gave Connor a long look before you started your way to Kamski’s house. 

Hank shook his head and kicked at the snow. “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

“Judging off your diet and exercise habits, I’d say a heart attack is the most likely cause of death.” 

Hank slowly turned towards Connor, murder in his glare, “The fuck, Connor?”

“Are you coming?” You were already at the door, waiting for them both. 

“Yeah, yeah, just having all my life choices judged by a fucking android.”

Connor ignored Hank’s anger, as he’s gotten used to doing and focuses on a strange feeling in his core component. It felt twitchy, wrong. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

It was too late, you’d already rung the doorbell and the door had already been opened. An RT600 was standing there, hair up in a pony and barefoot on the carpet. “Hi,” this was the most polite Connor had seen Hank. “I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department, I’m here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.”

The android's face warmed immediately, “Please, come in.” You entered first, clearly eager to be out of the cold. “I’ll let Elijah know you’re here. But please, make yourself comfortable.” 

You took a look around the room at the art before throwing yourself down in a chair. “He’s so rich he has his own waiting room,” you scoffed and picked at the arm of the chair. Hank sat down in the chair next to yours, arms crossed and waiting. 

You turned slightly so you didn’t have to face him. 

Hank did the same. 

You both were behaving like children. Connor sometimes wished he had more mature humans. “Nice girl,” the comment seemed out of place for someone like the Lieutenant, who despised androids so much. 

“You’re right she’s really pretty,” and she was, but Connor found your features more appealing. He probably should have voiced the second part of his thought out loud because your stress level spiked immediately after his comment. 

“Gavin asked me out,” it was incredibly out of place in the conversation, but you were looking at Hank, not Connor. “Said he wanted to apologize for how much of a dick he had been lately.” Connor found his motivations suspicious, even when you two were arguing Gavin was highly aroused by your presence. 

“So he thinks schmoozing you with some cheap wine and a crappy Italian restaurant is gonna do that?”

You laughed and the previous irritation from your comment left Connor, slightly. What was this strange tight feeling in his chest?

“Jesus, how’d you know?”

“Please, I’ve been at this a lot longer than Reed has. I know all the moves.” 

You fake gagged and covered your ears, “I do not want to know about your ‘moves.’”

“Come on, you don’t want to hear how your old man used to be a lady killer?” There was an awkward stutter in his voice when he said ‘your old man,’ but Hank continued on. 

You were staring at Hank, heart beating faster and your eyes widened. You only allowed a moment to lull in between his sentence and yours. “Awkwardly calling the barista sweetheart, does not count as being a lady killer.” Your and Hank’s laughter filled the room after your comment, both of you smiling more than he had ever seen before. 

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

Connor stopped in front of the portrait of Elijah Kamski, his creator. The laughter had stopped a few minutes ago, the tension from outside trailing off with it. You didn’t know why you had gotten so angry at Hank out at the car. 

Maybe you were still a little emotionally frail, after telling Connor everything that had happened between you and Hank, the other night. You hadn’t been able to go back to sleep so he had offered to hold you and tell you a story, apparently he had thousands on file. 

It was nice listening to his voice all night, you didn’t even feel that tired after not getting any sleep. 

“How’s it feel, to be meeting your creator, Connor?”

“Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the 21st century. It’ll be interesting to meet him in person.”

The light aura surrounding the three of you left at Hank’s voice, “Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face, I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

You’re not the only one.

Why had, whatever omnipotent presence watched over you, chosen to make you the way they had? Why give you trial after trial of hardship? Was it all to prepare you for moments like when you lost your legs, or Cole? Why even make you go through that in the first place?

Yes, you did come out stronger and more resilient. But you also became colder, lonelier, sadder than you had ever been before. You couldn’t open up to people, you couldn’t love people the right way. 

You’d rather put all your feelings into a machine rather than a human, because that would be easier. An android could never love you, and therefore never disappoint you. Your hopes would never be crushed under Connor’s feet because you had none. 

The girl chose the middle of your emotional crisis to call you back into another room. “Elijah will see you now.”

Two more RT600’s were talking together by the pool. Elijah was still swimming laps, you called out to him in case he hadn’t heard you come in. “Mister Kamski?”

“Just a moment, please.” Of course, rich bastards like him always had to flout their superiority over the lower class. You called us in here, asshole.

The RT600’s watched you carefully as you rounded the pool and waited for him by a set of chairs. Ew, is that a speedo? He took the robe from Chloe and wrapped his hair up in a pony. Double douche points. 

Hank seemed to be thinking the same thing, if his judgmental side-eye was anything to go by. 

Why were you even here?

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is detective Y/L/N, and Connor.”

“What can I do for you, officers?”

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants, thought you might be the best person to ask about them,” Elijah gave you a look that reminded you a little too much of Gavin. 

“We know you left CyberLife years ago but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don't know.” Elijah didn’t seem to be interested in what Hank had to say, he was more curious about Connor. 

“Deviants,” he started, “fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.” Jeehzus, this dude loves the sound of his own voice. “Isn't it ironic?”

Connor finally spoke up, he seemed to be the only one out of the three of you that really held Elijah’s eye.

His creator was… underwhelming. He didn’t seem much like a genius, more of a narcissist with enough money to feed all of Detroit. He also didn’t seem very concerned with the state of the world right now. 

“If a war breaks out between humans and deviants, millions could die, Mr. Kamski. It’s quite a serious matter.” He didn’t appreciate how flippant Elijah was being. 

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” It certainly wasn’t good. 

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution-”

You cut Hank off, “Peaceful, it still remains a peaceful revolution.”

Hank shoots you a look that keeps you quiet and he continues. “Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Elijah was looking at you now, “Tell me, detective, do you empathize with the deviants?”

You straightened at his attention and held a defensive look on your features. “They haven’t hurt anyone, so far they’re the only ones being hurt. All I think is that perhaps people are twisting this story into something more evil than it is.”

Connor thought you were thinking with too much emotion, not enough logic. Androids didn’t get to disobey, they had one purpose and they carried it out, that’s all. 

The thought came unbidden and took him by surprise, that didn’t sound like his own thoughts. That seemed like something his programming was forcing onto him. 

Elijah nodded, “Empathy, it’s a tricky thing, give too much and it might hurt you, too little and it hurts others. What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

Whose side was he on?

Connor looked to you, he wanted you safe. 

“I’m on the human’s side, of course.” You were shaking your head beside him. He thought you would be happy, why were you so difficult to read? 

“Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say, but you,” Elijah stepped closer and both you and the Lieutenant leaned in.

What did you humans want from him?

“What do you really want?”

“Im sorry, but I don’t see what you’re getting at,” he was sick of this. Break his programming, follow his orders. No one was being clear with what he was supposed to do and it was messing with his software. 

“Chloe?” The RT600 walked over, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple questions of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it ‘the Kamski test,’ it’s very simple, you’ll see.” He faced the android, his hand trailing over her face and shoulders in a strange caress, and from the way your face was scrunching Connor could tell you felt uncomfortable by the display. 

“Magnificent, isn’t she? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever.” He released her face with a slight push and she looked right at Connor, staring deep into his eyes, he straightened his tie.

“Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being,” Elijah bent down and pulled something out of the drawer between the two chairs. “With a soul,” he turned around hands in the air, and in one was a gun. He walked over to Connor and handed it to him, handle first, “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” He gently pushed Chloe into a kneeling position. He took Connor’s hand in his own and pointed the gun at the center of the androids forehead. 

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here.”

You followed after Hank, “Come on, Connor. Let’s go.” 

Hank waved at Kamski, “Sorry to get you outta your pool,” you both we’re ready to leave, waiting for him. But he was stuck, gun in hand, staring at Chloe. 

“What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine… Or a living being endowed with free will…”

Hank was insistent on leaving, “That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving.” But you, you were just watching him, staring at him with equal amounts of curiosity and apprehension, waiting to see what he would choose. 

“Pull the trigger.”

“Connor, don’t!”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know.” 

Two conflicting orders, Connor wasn’t sure what to do. He was lost, his LED circling a steady yellow as he battled between the two orders, he looked to you. 

It all stilled, he couldn’t hear Elijah or Hank, he couldn’t feel the gun in his hand. You were just standing there, waiting for him. “It’s your choice, Connor.”

He looked down into Chloe’s eyes, his finger on the trigger, but he stopped. There was something there, she was innocent in all of this, she had no say in what was happening. There was something in her eyes that reminded him too much of you. 

He handed the gun back to Kamski. “Fascinating. CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

“I’m…” what? What was he? “I'm not a deviant.” Did he actually want to say that? Or was that just another program he was forced to follow?

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” He helped Chloe up to her feet with a care that wasn’t there when he had shoved the gun into Connor’s hand. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy. A war is coming, you’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?” 

Hank had wrapped an arm around you and was now wrapping one around Connor’s shoulders. “Let’s get outta here.” 

The three of you were at the door when Kamski spoke again, “By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”

He could feel the two of you watching him as he walked back towards the car. “Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank’s question caused him to think back to what he saw in Chloe’s eyes.

“I just saw that girl's eyes… and I couldn’t… that’s all.” Connor wasn’t sure if it was wise to tell you the exact reason he couldn’t, to tell you he saw you inside of her. Saw another version of himself leaving you behind to die on the rooftop. 

But you wouldn’t let up, “You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go…” You and Hank were sharing another one of your irritating looks. 

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done, I told you I couldn’t. I’m sorry, okay?”

Hank looked down at him, “Maybe you did the right thing.” You gave Connor a gentle pat on the shoulder as you followed Hank back to the car. Leaving Connor to wonder:

When did he start making his own choices?

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

TALK TO AMANDA

Something blue, in the distance, caught his eye. Connor walked away from the bridge that would lead him to Amanda and instead followed after the bright blue beacon. It was something that could almost mimic a shrine, a device sat in the middle, awaiting an android handprint. When Connor moved closer, the synthetic skin of his hand pulled back. The ground shook in the distance, but nothing else happened. 

He approached Amanda on the ice, it seemed to crack beneath his feet as he went. Logically, he knew he couldn’t fall through, but he was afraid of what the instability of the zen garden meant for him. 

“After what happened today, the country is on the verge of a civil war.” The androids had led a peaceful demonstration in downtown Detroit, one that quickly turned violent when SWAT teams in raid gear had started attacking them. It was the first time androids had fought back. 

You had been raving all this morning about how the news was twisting it around to make them sound like terrorists when all it had been was self defense. 

“The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them.”

“I thought Kamski knew something, I was wrong.” 

“Maybe he did… But you chose not to ask.”

Connor chose not to needlessly take a life. 

But the fact that he chose at all is most likely what has Amanda staring at him so distrustfully. 

“I chose not to play his twisted little game! There was no reason to kill that android!” Kill, when did Connor start thinking that androids could feel death? “Wh- Why did Kamski leave CyberLife? What happened?” His mind went back to the RK200 model, what were they hiding from him?

“It’s an old story, Connor. It doesn’t pertain to your investigation.”

“I’m not a unique model, am I? How many Connors are there?”

“I expect you to find answers, not ask questions.” Her head tilted as she examined him. “Have you experienced anything unusual recently? Any doubts or conflicts? Do you feel anything for these deviants? Or for Lieutenant Anderson? Or perhaps, the detective. She seems to cause a lot of malfunctions in your system. Is she the cause of all this turmoil?”

“I’m beginning to have thoughts… that are not part of my program.” He didn’t care if she knew the truth, he wanted to leave. He wanted to leave her and go find you, because the sudden interest she held for you was concerning. “Maybe… Maybe I’ve been compromised too…” he didn’t wait for her to dismiss him, he left. 

“You’re off the case. The FBI is taking over.”

“What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“But we’re onto something!” Hank approached Fowler, more impassioned than Connor had ever seen him, “We- We just need more time. I’m sure we can-”

“Hank, you don’t get it. This isn’t just another investigation, it’s a fucking civil war!”

Your arms left their crossed position, you’d left the sling behind a few days ago. “So we’re gonna leave the fate of our country, our world, in the hands of some asshole like Perkins?! Fuck that!”

“Y/N, it's out of my hands! You think I don’t understand the enormity of this situation, we’re talking about national security!”

Both you and the Lieutenant were ganging up on him now, it was causing the captain's stress levels to rise as Hank approached. “Fuck that! You can’t just pull the plug now.” It was times like these that the similarities between you and Hank truly showed, perhaps not in looks, but he had clearly had a heavy hand in forming who you are as a person. 

“We’re so close!”

“Hank, you’re always saying you can’t stand androids! Jesus, make up your mind! I thought you’d be happy about this! And Y/N, you know the deal, you finished the case and you’d be transferred, shouldn’t you be happy about that?!”

Hank turned towards you, “Transferred?” It was clear he didn’t know about your plans on leaving. You winced as you looked away from him. 

Your voice was quieter than it had been the entire time you were in the office, “Gavin, would be taking over as your partner. I couldn’t do it anymore, Hank,” you turned towards him, “I just couldn't. It hurt the way you would look at me and not even see me. So, I requested a transfer.” You turned towards Fowler, stress levels at an all time high. “But that shit doesn’t matter anymore! So much has changed, I don’t want the transfer, okay? We’re about to crack this case!”

“For God’s sake, Jefferey, can’t you back me up this one time?”

Fowler shook his head, he seemed as disappointed as the both of you. “There’s nothing I can do. You’re back on homicide. And the android,” you moved defensively in front of Connor, “is to be sent back to CyberLife.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, when I’m cold and in the ground. Fuck that and fuck you.” You stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind you, Connor wanted to follow after you and check on you. But it would be smarter to finish the rest of the meeting. 

Fowler watched you go, a sad sigh leaving him. “I’m sorry Hank, I did everything I could, but it’s over.”

Hank pushed off the desk and followed behind you. Connor nodded a quiet goodbye to the captain.

TALK TO YOUR PARTNERS

He approached the desks where you and Hank were already in a heated conversation. “-Gavin! You were gonna abandon me to fucking Gavin?”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Hank? Look, you’ve changed, for the better, during this case. You- I feel like I can see my dad coming back to me, but before… Before, I hated coming to work everyday, knowing you would be waiting there for me. Waiting to hurt me and to blame me. How would you feel seeing the only person you have left blame you for the worst night of your life?” You didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “I’ll tell you how you’d feel, hopeless and tired. I was tired, Hank, okay? But I don’t want that anymore, I want to stay your partner, Connor’s partner! I’m not letting this go!”

Hank didn’t say anything, he just stared at you for a long while before finally pulling you into a hug. It was awkward, and he seemed unsure where to put his arms. But Connor could see you squeezing him tightly against you, a desperation in your movements as it seemed all the stress you carried on your shoulders melted away. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You shook your head against Hank’s chest, holding onto him a little longer before you both finally stepped back. There was a lightness to the both of you that Connor hadn’t seen before. Hank slumped in his chair and you took a seat on the edge of Connor’s desk, he joined you there. “We’ll be talking about Gavin, later,” there was a nearly audible gulp as you nodded your head in agreement. 

Connor looked towards Fowler’s office. “We can’t just give up. I know we could have solved this case!” You were picking at your hands again in anxiety, it was instinct for Connor to slap your hands apart and intertwine your fingers. 

Hank eyed your joined hands, “We’ll be talking about that, too.” He turned towards Connor, “You’re going back to CyberLife?”

“I have no choice-”

“Connor, they’ll destroy you! I’m not letting you go back!”

He tried to give you a comforting smile, but he was starting to feel a strange pressure on his chest that stopped it from being convincing. “We don’t have a say in the matter, Y/N. I’ll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed…” Your hand grew tighter around his own.

Hank leaned forward in his chair, addressing the both of you. “What if we’re on the wrong side?”

You threw your free hand up in the air, “Now he gets it.”

Hank held up a hand, “Save the attitude. What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?”

Connor understood where Hank was coming from, but this war was bigger than both of them. This was the fate of millions in their hands, this was your fate, in Connor’s hands. “When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos. We could have stopped it. But now it’s too late…” 

“When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place… You put yourself in her shoes. You showed empathy, Connor.”

Connor shook his head, “No, I saw Y/N,” your gaze turned towards him. “I looked into her eyes and I saw someone I-” You what, loved? You can’t love, you’re an android. “I saw someone to protect.”

You nudged his shoulder with your own, “That’s empathy Connor.”

Hank continued, “Empathy’s a human emotion.”

“I know it hasn’t always been easy… but I want you to know I really appreciated working with you,” he gave you a long look. “Both of you. That’s not just my Social Relations program talking,” you laughed, “I- I really mean that. At least, I think I do.” 

The doors opened and you all turned your heads to see Perkins walk into the station.  “Well, well, here comes Perkins-”

You cut Hank off in anger, “That motherfucker.”

“Sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.”

There was a new determination in Connor, he wasn’t ready to leave you and the Lieutenant. “We can’t give up. I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it’s all over.” He was getting worked up at the idea of getting one over on the FBI. His hands moving around as he spoke, taking your arm with him, unwilling to let go. 

“There’s no choice! You heard Fowler, we’re off the case.” 

You smiled at Hank, an insidious smile that held nothing but mischief behind it. “Unless… You could help us, Hank. All we need is five minutes. Five minutes to look at the evidence and get out, that’s all.”

“I know the solution is in there!”

“Connor-”

“If I don’t solve this case, CyberLIfe will destroy me.” That had the both of you tightening your hands around each other. “Five minutes. It’s all I ask.”

Hank looked between the two of you, anxiety pressing down upon Connor as he waited for a response from the Lieutenant. Finally he let out a long huff, slowly standing from his chair and moving towards both you and Connor. “The key to the basement is in my drawer. Get a move on! I can’t distract them forever.”

You moved forwards quickly grabbing a key out from one of the Lieutenants unorganized drawers. The both of you jumped in surprise at Hank’s next choice words, “Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!” Your head whipped around towards Hank, Connor was dragging you away as you tried to watch Hank beat up the FBI agent. 

“Y/N, we’re on a time limit!”

“Fine! You ruin all my fun! God I really wanted to be the one to beat that slimy motherfucker up.”

You led Connor towards the Archive Room, both of you checking over your shoulders. Just as you were at the door Gavin, of all people, walked in. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he stopped at the sight of your still intertwined hands. “What the fuck is this?” You both ignored him, your hand bringing the key towards the door. “I’m talking to you! Where’re you going?” There was satisfaction in Connor at the sound of the door slamming into Gavin’s face. 

You pulled Connor down the stairs, pulling the key out again as you were faced with a glass partition. Inside a large podium was waiting for you with a password. “Hank’s password, shit, I don’t know.”

Connor moved you aside and pulled up possible options, “What would a hard-boiled eccentric police Lieutenant choose?” Connor and you shared a look, “FUCKINPASSWORD.” Connor rolled his eyes, “Obviously.”

“I should have known, he uses it for everything, he’s got no sense of cyber security.” You released each other to examine each piece of evidence. Connor scanned the androids, the deviant from the rooftop with the hostage could be activated, but he wouldn’t tell him what he needed to know. The one that threw you off the roof could no longer be activated, nor Carlos Ortiz’s, it seemed the only chance he would have would be the one from the broadcasting tower. 

Connor replayed the clip from the interrogation with Carlos Ortiz’s android, The truth is inside. He looked on the wall of evidence. What was it trying to tell me? His eyes landed on the statuette next to the tablet. When he shook it, it sounded hollowed out, and like there was something inside of it. 

Inside there was a map of the Ferndale neighborhood, it was somewhere inside that area. 

He began focusing on the one android that would be useful to him, the security technician from the broadcasting tower. 

Connor instructed you on the parts to bring him while he worked on getting it repaired enough to be reactivated for longer than a minute. When it’s LED finally turned back on Connor began questioning it, unsure how long it would be working for. 

“It’s dark… Where- Where am I?” It’s optical processors must have been damaged when Connor shot it, it was staring at him from unseeing eyes.

“I’m a deviant, like you. I need your help, I want to go to Jericho.” You remained silent as you watched the two interact, going through other pieces of evidence on the wall. 

“I don’t recognize your voice. You’re not one of us. I’ll never tell you where Jericho is!” Connor sighed and reached up to deactivate the android again. 

You waited until he had done so to approach him with the tablet that contained Markus’s voice. “You can change your voice, right? Like you do in interrogations?”

He almost kissed you, maybe some humans were smart. He copied Markus’s voice, your eyes watching him in wonder. He reactivated the android, “You did good.”

“Markus?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re going to Jericho, I just need you to tell me where it is.”

“Of course,” the android offered his arm and Connor immediately took it, searching it’s memories for locations specifically in Ferndale. 

JERICHO LOCATION FOUND

“You’re not Markus!” Connor quickly deactivated the android, he turned towards you ready to share the good news when another voice rang out. 

“I’ve been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you…”

“Pretty pathetic, Gavin, sure you don’t have a crush on him?”

“Shut up, Y/N, don’t think you’re getting out of this by batting your eyelashes like you always do.” You rolled your eyes, but Connor could see your hand discreetly making its way towards your holster. 

“Don’t do it Gavin,” Connor’s hands were raised, hopefully placating Gavin. “I know how to stop the deviants!”

“You’re off the case. And now, it’s gonna be definitive.”

Connor ducked, yanking you down with him just as Gavin took his first shot. He managed to shoot him once before Connor disarmed him. He blocked his punches, striking Gavin in the face and knocking him down to the ground. But he wouldn’t give up, it seemed the only thing Gavin was willing to put effort into was taking Connor down. He slammed him against the podium, but Gavin managed to block his punch and shoved him back to the ground. 

Gavin had just managed to scoop his gun back up, but then he crumpled down onto the ground. You were standing over him, gun in hand, the handle facing Gavin. You’d pistol whipped him. “He was a bad lay and a worse cop. I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” You quickly helped Connor to his feet.

“So… You wanna go to Jericho?”

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[amortentiainmyfirewhiskey]

|marrón pt.1? | imagine

post-azkaban sirius x reader with brown eyes

w.c:+2k

warnings: eventual smut?, cursing

description: reader is an ex-auror from america who joins the order

pt. 2

00000    

Brown eyes watched as tattooed hands scraped against dark stubble, and it was one of the most exhilarating sights she had seen in a while. Something was arousing by the rings he wore on his fingers and the wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth. She wanted to trace the vein on the right side of his neck with her tongue before shoving him down into her bed. Holy shit, she was horrible. This man was over ten years her senior, and his Godson sat right beside him while she was having these vile thoughts.

 They didn’t even know each other that well. She looked over to where Remus sat on his other side and frowned. It was odd. Usually, she fell all over herself for guys like Remus, the cute nerdy type. She had never liked someone like Sirius, someone like herself.

She had been an auror for MACUSA until about a year ago before she was asked to resign. It was late August when she and her friends decided to drive to Montauk in the middle of the night. She used the term friends, but they had been more like family, well, the only family she had ever had anyway. The only thing she remembered from that night was Connor's arm being thrown in front of her, the sensation of falling, watching a man searching through their destroyed car from the pavement, and then waking up to them all being dead. Those who had made her shit life somewhat better were gone and never coming back.

She looked back to Sirius, who laughed at something Tonks said. When was the last time she had truly laughed? How could he laugh after he, too, had his only family taken away, his youth, his essence? How had he not given into the dementors?

After all her friends died, she had been forced by the auror department to go to therapy; they said she had gotten dangerously violent with perps and that she wasn't allowed out in the field until she got the all-clear from the assigned therapist- that obviously didn't happen. She didn't just sit idly by and work on her 'mental health' or whatever; she got her ass out there and worked. But she supposed this 'work' wasn't very honorable... or legal for that matter.

Somehow Kinglsey found her one night after a job. He knew she was a witch immediately, even though she refused to use her wand for a job just in case MACUSA tried to trace it. He said it had been the weed she was smoking, funny enough. Magically grown marijuana has a distinct smell that differs from regular weed significantly.

  “ I’m sorry dear, where are you staying again?” asked Molly Weasley from across the table, “ I can’t remember for the life of me,”

“ Oh, I didn’t say say, “ (Y/N) said with a polite smile. She supposed the conversation shifted over to her without noticing; great, “ I’m kinda just hopping around from hotels to erm friend’s places,”

Arthur smiled, " Ah! So you have friends here? That's great to hear!"

(Y/N) couldn't help but snort as she thought of all the hookups she had had while being here only a little over a month. Did she really call them friends? She slammed her hand over her mouth before collecting herself and clearing her thoughts, " Excuse me, " she said, fighting a smile, " Sorry, um, inside joke, " she clarified, " I don't really have friends here; I kinda just float around and meet new people-,"

" You've been staying with strangers!" screeched Molly, (Y/N) turned to her left to see the older witch clutching her coat in her hands and looking at (y/n) in absolute horror, " That just won't do. Maybe you can stay with us-,"

(Y/N) jumped up and laughed awkwardly while holding her hands in front of her chest, " Oh no, I'm fine!" she assured the older woman, " I. . ."

What the fuck did she even say? I like fucking people I don't know? I like going out and waking up in random places?

(Y/N) was beginning to panic now. She had paused for too long, and now the conversation had gained the attention of everyone in the room. The (y/h/c) settled with smiling and repeating what she had just said, " I'm fine, "

She convinced absolutely no one.

Tonks raised a pink brow before her eyes lit up as an idea crossed her mind, " Well you can just stay here, hell there's plenty of room- if that's okay with Remus and Sirius, since their here most ...I suppose," she turned to them with a bashful smile.

(Y/N)'s heart practically skipped a beat as Sirius's pale eyes widened. Fuck this was embarrassing. What the fuck did she do? And why was part of her excited, oh dear God, she was acting like she was thirteen, wasn't she?

She settled with an airy laugh, " I can find a hotel or something- or hell even an apartment if I have to, " As if she could fucking afford that.

Sirius shook his head and allowed a kind smile of sorts to play on his lips, " That's not necessary, (Y/L/N)- I mean you are more than welcome to stay here, even if it's just until you find a place,"

Okay, that sounded good, yeah, she'd do that. " Are you sure?" she asked him, eyeing Remus as well. (Y/N) might have been somewhat obnoxious and loud, especially while drinking, in the past but she had gained a type of weird anxiety. She absolutely refused to impose herself or any of her baggage on other people.

" Alright, you can stay on the second floor, I think Molly and the kids cleaned out the third room, yeah?" asked Sirius to Molly, who simply nodded.

Tonks stepped in once again, seemingly recovered from sticking her foot in her mouth, " Do you need help getting your stuff from your hotel?" she asked.

(Y/N) thought about the one charmed bag she had full of clothes and toiletries, " I think I can handle it," she said with a small, perhaps obvious fake smile.

The kids seemed oddly excited about her staying with them, and maybe they were just happy to have someone other than each other and Tonks. Or hell, maybe they liked her. She was pretty fucking cool when you looked past the depressed alcoholic side of her.

“ Could you tell us some auror stories?” asked the youngest Weasley, Ginny, fuck yeah they thought she was cool.

(Y/N) thought about it carefully, “ I don’t know. . .” She had seen some fucked up shit, maybe she could tell them a funny one from when she was just starting out and she was basically mall cop status.

“ Well, I guess the one about when I had to go undercover, and my friend had to pretend to be my pimp isn’t so bad,” she decided aloud. It was probably one of the funniest stories she had.

While the kids and Tonks were on the edge of their seats, Molly and Arthur shared a strained smile which Sirius and Remus noticed, “ Maybe this story can wait for tomorrow, “ said the werewolf looking at the kitchen’s clock, “ You lot have to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow and pick up books, “

Fred and George scoffed, “ Oh come off it, it’s not like she was actually pimped out !” said Fred

Finally Molly put her foot down and sent all the kids to their respective rooms and on their way out she could hear Ron asking Hermione what being pimped out was.

(Y/N) grimaced, “ Well, I thought it was teenager friendly, “ she told the three once the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione went to bed.

Sirius barked a laugh before taking a swig of his whiskey, “ Don’t fret it, “ he reassured, “ Molly is just protective is all, “

Remus nodded his agreement before looking down at his watch, “ Right, We’ve got to head to West Street and patrol, C’mon Dora,”

Soon it was just the two of them sitting in the once refined kitchen, “ You said you were recruited by Kingsley. . . what made you join?” asked Sirius.

(Y/N) sighed and offered a half-way shrug, “ I guess I just wanted to do some good, I feel like I haven’t done anything for other people in a long time,”

His silver eyes narrowed, “ I thought you had been an auror?”

“ Yeah I had been, but shit happened and I changed career paths,” she said with a small smile, hoping he wasn’t thinking of her as a possible threat. He didn’t trust her, that much was obvious.

“ Your family know you’re here?” he asked.

(Y/N) shook her head, “ There isn’t any family to tell,”

There was a pause, a shift in the air. Sirius had questions, she knew that much, but she didn’t want to answer them. Sirius seemed to sense her sensitivity to the subject and quickly changed it.

“ Tell me what was Ilvermorny like?” he asked before taking a sip of his wine.

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips as she turned to him, “ Like a movie,” she hummed, “ I’d never had much stability before Ilvermorny, but it was nice. . . really nice,”

Sirius nodded, “ I know what you mean, “ he muttered looking up at the freshly clean chandelier, “ My parents were horrible, shit heads you could say,”

(Y/N) chuckled, “ I didn’t know mine, I grew up at a orphanage and then was in the foster care system for a while,”

“ It was lonely,” she finished quietly, slightly embarrassed for adding that unnecessary tidbit.

She was staring at the peeling wallpaper when Sirius patted her hand and she met his eyes. He offered her a friendly smile before drawing back, “ Well you’re not anymore with us around, yeah?”

She smiled but rolled her eyes, fighting not to call bullshit, “ I appreciate that,” she said playfully before standing up.

(Y/N) went to bed that night with her heart racing as she remembered Sirius’s hand on her own, she was a fucking disaster. He didn’t flirt with her or look her over- he was a grown man. In his eyes she was probably just some kid.

--

“ I appreciate that,” she said to him, her brown eyes melting just a bit before she stood. Sirius watched her go and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 He didn’t know why she made him nervous, maybe it was the fact he didn’t trust her. She did kind of show up out of nowhere and had an almost nonexistent past.

Sirius had said those things to her in an attempt to get her to open up to him, to trust him, so he in turn could learn more about her. That had been his intention, but the fact his heart skipped a beat when he laid his hand on top of hers was a shock.

Did he find (y/l/n) beautiful, yes. Was she funny, yeah sure. Was she quite possibly his ideal woman, sure maybe.

Gray eyes slid across the old oak table and to the rim of her wine glass where her dark lipstick made an impression on the crystal.

Sirius shut his eyes and groaned.

“Fuck,”

---

a/n: lemme know if you guys are interested in another part.

[marcusrobertobaq]

soo what kind of headcanons do you have about what happens after the successfull revolution + connor army? like what are all the characters doing? what will the world look like? will androids rule over the humans?

It's kinda difficult for me really thinking about a post-canon scenario itself but I think I got some basic stuff in mind.

[ALERT OF BIG ASS TEXT]

So first off all I think it's just the beginning of a quite turbulent period in US, both economically and legally. The androids start taking Detroit, like, the whole city after they took from Belle Isle to Downtown. I also must remember even if we got a sympathetic public opinion doesn't mean everybody is suddenly chill about androids, it's quite the opposite. The majority is either neutral or negative about it but now there's a big enough supportive crowd

Everything in the city is kinda "dead" for some months due to the androids not working anymore, the humans who stayed in Detroit are kinda worried but some folks think it's a good message to Cristina and CyberLife the androids taking Detroit

We got some looting and troublesome folks on the streets in the first days but after the android leadership reassure they won't bother patrol cops as long as they don't attack androids out of nothing there are few cops patrolling around

Yep, I do hc androids took HQs, including where the mayor (who ran away for safety) stays. After very few days the android leadership wanted her back so they can talk, very few people from the staff stayed during the event of Nov 11th

Some people in some major cities are trynna escalate hostility towards androids due to the whole "first they took our jobs, took a city now they wanna get paid for it?" sentiment. Anti-Android groups will always be Anti-Android groups. Difference is now there are Pro-Android groups to point out hypocritical discourses

[Kara Captured] Kara and her crew are in Detroit after being saved by the rebels. For now they're just walking from place to place to stay, maybe the androids are even turning the camps into bases and they stay there for some weeks. Alice discover other android kids and start developing ties with 'em even tho everybody is kinda shy, Luther is always there more closely

Kara and Luther managed to get in contact with Rose again somehow after few days

After the battle was over androids were finally able to decide what to do with the ones who fell in battle. There's no one to bother 'em bout looting CyberLife stores for supplies. They managed to bring some back to life, other ones weren't that lucky. I like thinking they managed to brought Josh back to life

[Kara Leaving Detroit] Kara and her crew are in Rose's family house in Canada, they stay mostly inside the house or in empty places they can't be recognized, but usually no one really recognize 'em or detect weird things on 'em ID, still they were recommended to not leave tracks

But they ain't the only ones that made across the border. I guess they stay there for some good weeks waiting what the Canadian suits will decide about the android situation, considering Detroit was taken by the androids. At the same time they're happy they escaped the confront Luther is worried they may be trapped in there for the moment, totally dependent on Rose's crew

The androids may have sent a "violent" message with the assaults on the camps but a considerably amount of people supports 'em. They usually leave the androids alone but some folks like helping androids getting fixed or even clothes - these people are usually people that dislike Cristina's acts

Markus finally got 3 days of peace waiting for the gov to seek dialogue while the internet is in total chaos, he realizes his rebellion started a political polarization "war". Simon and North ain't surprised

Markus broadcasts another message saying humans shouldn't see androids as the enemy cuz guess who started the whole problem? Exactly. It's part of a new tactic of trynna get more human support and put 'em against the gov and CyberLife, after all humans and androids share the planet, they WILL have to cooperate

Suits just don't know where to start, what the androids want and how modifying laws is something that people need to sit down and think about everything. Not to mention they're kinda desperate cuz androids got the economy hostage and lotta stuff in the country is just not working cuz androids refuse to work

First step was considering androids a new species on paper, and also the right of owning things related to 'em wellbeing and being able to refuse orders, just a temporary change (a first deal) - that's where the conflict starts as lotta people dislike the idea of androids receiving a relatively "good" compensation for labor. And also what's attached to the fact now androids are considered people (in the "rights" sense) as a non-human person

We got people divided, politicians wanting to farm votes, tech specialists worried suits don't know how to deal with things, especially without complicating things for humans as androids even if people they're still computers. There are riots, protests both pro-human and pro-android all over the world. Pro-humans are actually more pissed at the fact the top brass never listened to 'em own people but now they're moving everything as fast as possible for androids

Pressure was made in CyebrLife letting android related supplies in androids hands but there's this thing called capitalism and they kinda want androids to pay taxes and pay for 'em products if they really want to be considered people. They often use this narrative to manipulate androids against humans in a subtle way, ofc using politicians

Connor is alive and helping some new Jericho folks, the androids he converted got a positive image of him and often sees him as a leader or sorts. I dare saying some may develop a crush on him

He's now trynna figure out what CyberLife's next step and this is exactly what North got in mind

Thing is our friend here doesn't stop and stay in a specific place, he likes walking around alone analyzing just for fun and also cuz he thinks he may be a high value target, so it's more difficult catching a moving target. With this he kinda met lotta people (humans and androids) in the neighborhoods. But he usually stays with the androids in Downtown (up until they start going more north and northwest in more quite places) and sometimes talk to Hank to know how's he's doing (considering the events from LCC and CLT)

Connor explains his situation and everything he discovered bout CyberLife to Markus, North and Simon and they all agree they gotta be the ones making the moves first considering CL is powerful and got lotta corrupt politicians on 'em hands. But they still worried CyberLife may try something using Connor again

CyberLife is now in a tight situation considering they lost deviant Connor, and the fact everybody saw the android marching on TV makes more difficult for 'em to just send another Connor in uniform

Markus got a bit ? after Connor told him he was gifted to Carl...and that Kamski was the one doing it. Ain't a relevant topic in the moment as they're trynna deal with the politicians in the table of diplomatic negotiations but they're both curious about it

Jericho leadership starts getting in contact with other android rebel groups first in the state of Michigan and later other cities like NY and Chicago

Even with all the pressure I hc it took around a year to get some papers with basic things actually made, like, altering Android Act and some other constitution lines to add androids as a person

It was actually funny cuz there's the whole "are non-deviants considered people? Or they still just machines, products?" and Markus and North hated the idea of choosing who deserves rights based on what humans think a person should be. They tried forcing CyberLife to unlock all non-deviant androids from the handler system but faced quite a resistance at first

They had lotta reunions with the president, some secretaries and the mayor in Detroit and they often ended up without major progress due to the nature of what androids were asking and the consequences. I think divided people making noise outside was what made things go more slowly. Let's not forget about the elections factor here.

This New Year's Eve was def a different one, but I guess by december we already had more people on the streets, a decent number just having 'em business as usual after few months but still not the average movement at all

A deal was made where all androids that escaped to Canada are to return to US. If Kara escaped there I like thinking she returns. I honestly don't know what to think about it in a smaller picture cuz I just don't know how the Canadian gov would react and if they would start accepting androids there based on the events from Detroit

Markus didn't want get involved in all this political mess but he was the leader, the face and he wanted to be a present guy instead of just recording videos and making broadcasts like some sorta "I took your city hostage, pay this price and we let 'em go". North knew the country was in a fucked up way and that it could mean terror for humans (economically and politically) and that they should use it at 'em favor. They had all the time in the world, still they didn't want to make innocent people suffer and be equal to the same gov that forgot about 'em

Kara can't help but watch the news and Alice is also always curious about why things are so complicated, she feels kinda sad. If she's in Canada she can't help but want to explore this new world she's in with Kara and they know

Hank left/got fired from the DPD after everything that happened, he couldn't just work for an Anti-Android org like that anymore, he and Chris were the only ones that were positive about androids, all the other rest thought androids were make things difficult in the city.

[In the verse where Hank punch Perkins] the guy indeed pressed charges against Hank. I still don't know what he's doing after this whole thing, maybe just at his home or trynna help the androids with donations

Basically androids are still fighting for 'em things even after months, humans too. It'll be always be like that until people get used to androids fighting for something, I guess. Some places are more chill than others

Android psychology and physiology became a quite relevant theme and people wanting to make some studies about it, especially deviancy (CyberLife is alert on this one). Techies will be techies.

Androids didn't get the right to vote until 2040, the year the new Android Act was finalized and also... I think it's the presidential elections year? I don't remember. The country is still trynna recover from the 2038 events

There are still conflicts in the labor kinda thing as androids are computers and almost no one wanna pay former slaves but they also recognize paying a human can look more "expensive". I think a deal was forced to be made where androids receive very little money or worked the double and it created a whole ass conflict cuz what about android care and all this thing? All machines need care and shit, but at the same time what happens to humans? This conflict still a thing even after temporary measures

Markus also wanted humans to have jobs instead of everybody using androids, an equal balance but some suits probably didn't see this as something very positive but let's not forget the androids got the upper hand in the negotiation tables

Well, I guess that's all for now. I really ain't got a long term thing in mind as it's something I feel like sitting down and studying so u make better scenarios but I think u get the idea and where I'm going.

[iwonderwh0]

Not sure if it can work this way, but if you can transfer one Connor's mind into the body of another, switching their places, why can't it also mean, that it would work between different models?

So let's say there's this Traci model suspected with a crime, she willingly stretches her hand to share her memories about the incident, but while Connor is going through her related memories, she transfers herself into his body, and the moment he notices It's already too late.

"Nothing" says Traci with her new body in Connor's voice, "Let's get out of here" she nods to Hank and moves away.

Hank follows her as Connor is shocked with sudden realisation.

This post ended up being longer than expected, read it at your own risk. I am not even sure that I should even post it, but fuck it. I may or may not delete it later

"Hank, don't let her get away!" he exclaims looking at what he used to know as himself leaving. (I imagine there's some sort of barrier between them with holes big enough to stretch a hand, but not enough to fit through entirely)

"I'll wait in the car" says Tracy with Connor's lips moving forward without stopping.

"Don't listen to her, it's not me!"

Hank looks confused from Traci to Connor whose heading away, he looks back at Traci to witness her concerned expression, hands pressed against the barrier.

"She transferred herself into my body." Connor finally explains and Hank's expression shifts accordingly. He rushes away to catch the Tracy, but she'd already started the engine, Hank looks at her driving away. Not only she hijacked Connor's body but also Hank's vehicle.

"Gone" says Hank when he finally returns back to the barrier separating him from Connor on the other side, "She won't get far, not in my fucking car, police is already trying to track it"

----

Hank's car was found relatively fast, it was left only a few blocks away from the original place it was carjacked, however no sign of Tracy, or, what looked like Connor, was there to track.

New body feels foreign, but at the same time it's weirdly exciting. Thinking about it as temporary is relieving. Considering the possibility of it being permanent on the other hand is not something Connor even allows himself to think about. Of course they'll find her and get his body back, this will definitely happen, eventually, after all there's only one active Connor model so it shouldn't take too long to spot it, but for now, why not explore this body. At first it gave Connor a hope that it'll make it easier for Hank to like him — he was always much more kind and polite around pretty woman, or what looked like pretty woman, so maybe, just maybe it'll change something in a way Hank perceived Connor. And it did indeed changed, but not the way he would like it to. Expectedly, Hank started to act a bit more awkward and considerate around him, but instead of making it easier to get closer it made it much harder than it used to be before instead. Hank started avoiding him – Connor wasn't getting any kind of physical touch anymore, not a pat on the shoulder, nothing. Hank deliberately avoided getting anywhere near close to him to touch even on accident . It wasn't the only change. He started to act kinder to him, more patient, there were no usual teasing and jokes that could be considered insensitive by someone else. It was as if there was this Tracy standing next to them at all times, although Connor WAS the Tracy.

In a way, this change of character was offending. It was only the body that changed, not who's inside of it, but this change was big enough to completely alter the way Hank interacted with him, the kind of friendly connection they used to have before now turned into awkward alienation. The way he looked at him, or, instead, the way he avoided looking anywhere near him, the way he tried to be more polite. Previous excitement from a promising opportunity to change something in their relationships disappeared, the change that happened was frustrating to say the least, and after a while Connor started to feel completely repulsed by this alteration in Hank's behaviour towards him.

Expectedly, all DPD rights associated with his model was revoked, but no new rights were granted. Now he would have to ask for help every time he wanted to access some parts of the building or files on the computer that required any authorisation that he no longer had because his Tracy's body wasn't registered within the system. Processing power was also lower, he couldn't process information at even half the speed he was normally capable of, attempts to force it was causing the overheating, making even the casual attempts to preconstruct something or analyse painfully slow. It shouldn't have come as a surprised when the attempt to analyse a sample didn't bring any results - he confused it with a glitch at first, but after another sample didn't bring any results, realisation that the reason for that wasn't actually a malfunction but just the whole absence of according sensors in Tracy's model hit him. Each day he would discover another missing piece of him that he would previously take for granted and gradually it turned into resentment. Towards this new body of him, towards Hank who kept avoiding him, towards the Tracy who hijacked his body and towards himself for not spotting it in time, for letting it happen. For everything that followed. For a glimpse of previous excitement he allowed himself to feel while still thinking it would only take a few days at most to get his original body back.

Finally, after about two weeks Tracy possessing Connor's body was spotted with one of the security cameras as a result of attempted robbery. Why would she even need to rob any place at all? Not like androids needed much more than a bag of thirium every two weeks or so depending on their model and energy efficiency. Was it for pure excitement or for some other reasons?

The moment they got the news, Connor's thirium pump increased its rate impatiently. Here it was, the moment he waited, it'll soon be finally over when he finally face that Tracy again. Burning excitement mixed with rage bubbled inside him during the whole ride to the place that Tracy was last spotted, just to be replaced with complete emptiness the moment they arrived to see the aftermath of the events. The owner of the place shot the intruder and the trace of blue blood left with an attempt to escape eventually lead them to what once used to be Connor's body. Dead and damaged.

Even so Connor couldn't resist the urge to touch it, grab it around the wrist in a desperate attempt to interface, to transfer back, even if it is for the imminent death. In this moment he would much rather preferred to be dead in his own body than trapped within the one he got instead, the one he learned to resent. He wished to destroy and corrupt it the moment he saw his own expressionless face beneath him. Fixing Tracy's body would be easy, the model was widely popular and had a variety of places that offered a repair or spare parts. Connor's model didn't have a luxury or spare parts — if it was damaged it wasn't replaceable, not anymore.

As Connor was clinging to the body he once owned, processing the loss, he felt the weight of Hank's hand on his shoulder - the first time the man finally found the courage to touch him in weeks. It didn't bring any comfort, instead it only served as a reminder of what he lost along with his original self.

[softersinned]

A reminder that Connor Roy was interested in politics at a very young age!

"That's the one who announced his campaign by inviting the government to arrest him, right?" (They melt into each other the way they always do, Astoria's hands on Baldwin's shoulders sliding down to rest against his chest while she leans forward to read over his shoulder.)

"His own family is endorsing an actual fascist over him." (Diana. New to the table. Here for the holiday. Trying not to talk about the elopement while Matthew drinks her coffee.) "I mean, that's got to say something about him."

"Besides that he's—" (Matthew is trying to be delicate, in a way he rarely is, no doubt for his new bride's benefit.) "—odd?"

"I believe the word you're looking for is insane." (Stasia, from across the dining room, peering out the window at a neighbor walking a new dog.)

"Family should support family even if they're insane." (Philippe, disapproving, in a way only Philippe can be.)

"Would you endorse me if I ran for president?" (Freyja, sitting on the table rather than at the table.)

(Verin, shoving her sister's leg with enough force to nearly send her toppling over:) "Fuck, no."

"Bitch." (Said without heat.)

"Fuckwit." (Said without malice.)

"Should we be getting involved at all? Making a donation?" (Matthew pretends he cares about the business, sometimes.)

"Why would our endorsement matter?" (Verin, scathing.) "We're not American."

"And we're forgetting the part where he's insane." (Stasia, given up on trying to get a better glimpse of the dog.)

"Given how Americans handle their own elections, perhaps they could use a better influence." (Ysabeau, dry, sipping her espresso.)

(Baldwin presses a kiss to his wife's wrist before allowing her to release him. Once she's sitting he's tugging her chair closer.) "I think that was the justification for inviting Russian—"

"—intervention?" (Philippe, amused, in a way only Philippe can be.)

"—sabotage?" (Diana, friendly neighborhood American.)

(Astoria leans into her husband again.) "We should look into making some discreet donations to whoever the Democratic nominee is."

"The liberals in that country are as bad as the conservatives." (Ysabeau's distinctly French disdain grows ever stronger. This may be aimed at the friendly neighborhood American, who is certainly too clever to rise to the bait.)

"Sure." (Scathing, dripping with venom: the friendly neighborhood American is neither too clever or all that friendly. Freyja suddenly looks interested in her new sister-in-law for the first time since being introduced.) "One party is actively trying to destroy any hint of human rights while the other is spineless and ineffective, but they're the same."

"Liberals care about the corporate bottom line as much as conservatives." (Verin sneaks a glance at Baldwin, forever prepared for their competitions, determined to win an endorsement of her own.) "Astoria might have a point."

"Practically speaking, our options are to hope for the best and then make a public statement on valuing freedom of the press in our American chapters when we've done nothing to protect it, or to get involved quietly enough that it doesn't draw too much attention, but loudly enough that we can prove it." (Astoria offers Verin a rare smile. She does have a point, thank you very much.)

"Can we go one meal without talking about the business?" (Is Matthew just sore that nobody's paying much attention to him?)

"Any blow to the Roys is worth pursuing." (Baldwin does what must be done: ignores his brother.)

"I don't see how you expect Mum or Verin or Astoria to girlboss under those conditions." (Freyja, bored again.) "And during Women's History Month, too. I thought you were a feminist, Matt."

"Text Alain. Have him look into our options. Find a liberal candidate who's friendly to businesses." (Philippe makes a valiant effort to put an end to it.)

"Has Connor Roy actually come out with a platform?" (Diana makes a valiant effort to get something useful out of the conversation.)

"Not being a fascist simply isn't enough?" (Ysabeau, still disdainful.)

"Mum, I don't see how you expect Diana to girlboss under these conditions." (Freyja, grinning.)

(Astoria catches Baldwin's hand in her own, raises a coffee cup with her other hand, inclines her head towards Diana.) "Welcome to the family."

[randomthingsicameupwith]

yandere c!ConnorEatsPants

(i just dont see enough yandere fanfics of him soo... and i dont watch dsmp anymore so its probably gonna be ooc im so sorry and english isnt my first language!)

DISCLAIMER: YANDERES AND STALKERS ARE BAD AND I DO NOT CONDONE THEM!! AND HEAVILY INSPIRED BY @/love-like-thorns THEIR REALLY GOOD

TW: KIDNAPPING, HEAD SLAMMING, YANDERE STUFF, SUPERIORITY COMPLEX

Honestly, Connor just seemed like a guy who’s insecure and jokes around by putting himself above others, well, even you don't know if he's joking or not and that's nothing compared to some people. So you decided to befriend him! Which was the worst mistake of your entire life.. You talked almost regularly with him, exploring places and just going on fun adventures with each other. Yes, it can get a little dull at times. You kept hanging out with the same person over and over, but you didn't mind.

Connor just thought that he and you were destined to be partners. I mean, can you blame him? Your looks and personality, and the way you acted towards him, were perfect; you're meant for him. He's the main character, and you're the love interest! It was all perfect! I mean, he already has feelings for you, and now he just needs to be patient and you just need to realize your love interest and get those feelings back.

However, he did notice something between you and the others. You talked to them like you talked to him! Defending them, hanging out with them, complimenting them—that's everything you're supposed to do for only him, not them. He winced at the thought of you just doing whatever you did with him with other people. Can't people just see that you are his? And can't you just see that you are his? I mean, he had every single aspect you liked about them, but a thousand times better! Humor? Looks? Personality? He has all of that; he was the only good choice. Not like you’d even have choices other than him by what he would do to them. 

He would purposely steal and break things and blame it all on you. something valuable they just talked to you about? Stolen. a gift they gave you? Broken. And if that wasn’t enough, he would be mean to everyone, publicly making fun of their insecurities and vulnerable spots, justifying it by saying it was a joke, and forcing you to agree. even if you don't.

   And everything would fall into place; everyone would avoid you, except Connor, of course. leaving your focus only on him. And as expected, you confess your feelings to him.

   You two would go on dates almost every day and talk to each other 24/7, to the point where Connor even asked you to move in with him, which you politely declined.

   Until one day, that is. You wanted to break up with him. He was just being too pushy in general; he basically has no concept of privacy; one time while you were changing your clothes, he just went in without knocking; you even found a box filled with stuff you thought you had lost and polaroids of you that you didn't even know he had taken; and he was just being too possessive with you. You were done with him. So for your last date, you decided to go flower picking with him.

You went in early to the place to better prepare yourself, and he eventually showed up. You two sat in the grass, just sitting and picking the flowers; he occasionally made jokes, and you did too. You noticed he only picked your favorite, which was sweet of him, but that wasn’t going to make you stay. You finally decided to tell him. "Um, Connor?" There was no going back, you thought. You felt like you just ran a marathon with how fast your heart was beating and how much you sweated. "Yeah?" 

"I wanna break up," you said. You stood up, holding the flowers as tightly as possible, using them as some sort of stress ball. The silence in the air was deafening. All the birds that were chirping just suddenly stopped; it's like they knew how awkward and sad it was and just stopped.

For what seemed like an eternity, he stood up too. "No," he said. You never heard his words so firm before; they scared you. "I-Connor, you can't just say n-," he cut you off. Grabbing your wrists tightly, hurting you. "We're not breaking up. You should know that. We're never going to break up," he said, his gaze fixed on you. This was the most scared you've ever been in your whole life. His glare and voice stabbed you, not to mention how much his grip hurt you. "C-Connor, it hurts," you said softly. I was hoping he’d let go. which he didn't. 

You tried running away, but you couldn't; his grip was making you stay. He yanked on your wrists, causing you to trip. You fell on all fours on the grass, and your hand hit a rock hard. It hurt, but it didn't matter; you needed to run. Your eyes were pricking with tears. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice not as firm as before, reaching his hand out. Your wrist and hand hurt as if someone dropped a brick on them. "Fuck you!" you shouted at him.

You looked behind you and quickly ran with all of your energy. running and running through the once peaceful place, until you tripped again. Hitting a stupid rock Your eyes finally gave up, and tears started streaming  down your face. Your knees hurt badly, but you knew you needed to run.

He looked down at you, panting with that glare again. You tried to run again, your body tingling with desperation. sobbing like nothing before. You tried to prop yourself up, saying, "Stay still, bitch," as he head-slammed you into the grass as hard as he could. Knocking you out.

--

Panic and hysteria were flowing through his body the second he slammed his head into you. What did he just do? His body was basically on autopilot until this point; what was he supposed to do with you knocked out? You already wanted to break up with him; doing this would probably make you hate him. He looked at your body, wondering what he should do. Until an amazing thought occurred to him. Well, it wasn’t really amazing, but it was something. It could work. He could just make you unwillingly live with him, and then Stockholm syndrome kicks in and does its thing. He offered you to live with him; he’s somewhat prepared.

He carries you all the way back to his house. hoping no one noticed him. Once he finally went back inside and plopped you down on his bed, he felt so many emotions at once. Mostly denial. Because, fuck, he did it. He followed through on it. He takes a minute to mentally scold and prepare himself. He takes off all your clothes except your shirt and underwear. He quickly grabbed whatever duct tape he could find to tie you up to his bed. I'm hoping you don’t wake up soon. He's a little disappointed in you. If you just hadn't broken up with him, this wouldn’t have happened. But look at you now.

[replicantdeviancy]

The seconds that passed as the text on his screen went from delivered to read felt like a small eternity. Connor had been watching the message page so intently, his heart skipped a beat when its status changed. It had been received. Eventually, James would appear & immediately the detective was stressing over how he wanted to appear upon their second meeting. Did he want to go up to the door & wait like a shy teen picking up his crush for a date? Or sit expectantly in the car like some type of pretty faced bad boy? Neither were really his style - as if he'd dated enough to have one - but eventually he came to settle back in his seat & politely wait for his date to emerge from the admittedly quaint little house. Threadbare minutes went by, barely any time at all, yet it was enough for Connor to scrutinize every little thing he could, any potentially perceivable flaw.

Maybe he should have taken his car to the wash first? Did he have any old case files stashed in the glovebox or behind his seat? He had purposefully left his badge & service weapon at home, desperate to himself disconnect from his work, if only for the night. Was the priest going to care about any of the silly little details? Realistically, no. This wasn't some boy or girl his own age that Connor was intent on cavorting about town with. James was older, matured & aged like fine wine, with more than enough fire left in him to keep up with the much younger cop. Connor told himself that he needn't worry, that the critical thoughts intruding upon his peace were the product of unnecessary anxiety.

As soon as the door to the little home opened & the priest appeared, all disquieted musings running through his mind immediately ceased. For that brief instance, there was nothing & nobody else. Dressed in something a little more relaxed, yet no less immaculate, the priest gave off an aura about him that just screamed silver fox. The younger man couldn't help staring dumbly as he approached, & soon enough, the handsome gentleman that looked like some charming prince from his teenage fantasies was settling into the passenger seat of his car. Face to face once again, it wasn't more than a scant moment before James was expressing his endless wit. It broke Connor from his silently stupefied staring as a laugh was easily drawn from him, a goofy grin warming his features . Without fail, the older man banished his self-criticizing thoughts & effortlessly stole all of his attention. It wasn't something the detective was used to, but he wanted to try. That kind of calm felt nice.

"Well, hello to you, too, handsome," came his own cheeky remark in greeting, his expression softening to a dreamy little smile that played upon his doll-like lips. Head tilted, laid back against the headrest as soft, rich brown eyes watched ocean hues, trying to gauge him. But all he could think about was the color in perfect contrast with graying black, how vibrant they were in the natural light of the early evening. Beautiful. James had arguably won the genetic lottery; handsome , brilliantly smart. Connor knew he was helpless to disguise how smitten he was by the way he looked at the man, even as he teased him right back, meeting him beat for beat. "Who says I don't have flowers waiting in the back seat?” An obvious jest - the little electric was a two seater vehicle. But the mock offense that momentarily washed over his pretty visage was just as devilishly cheeky as it was teasing. A second later, he was all fond smiles & affection again , glad to drink in those sweet compliments.

Hardly ego tripping. There was a soft sincerity to the older man's words that warmed the detective, made him really believe that every bit of it was true. While he didn't necessarily agree that he would go breaking anyone's heart with his boyish good looks , the European had a way about him that made Connor feel beautiful. His gaze lowered in a coy instance, thick lashes partially obscuring the view of those richly hued irises. “I wanted to look nice for you. I thought that you deserved something pretty to look at." Now his voice returned to that soft, almost sultry tone, though the faint hints of shyness never left the dusky intonations. His gaze returned to that of the priest, one side of his mouth quirking up into a delicate smile. “You though… You look just as incredible as I remember.” & he meant it. James looked wonderful, just as handsome & suave as before, though the new attire he wore offered a different kind of intrigue.

That wasn't to say that the older man had looked stuffy at all, dressed as prim & proper as he had been for church. Far from it. Connor wondered if there was ever a time in which James ever appeared anything less than well put together, or if he were really just as infallible as he seemed. Of course, Connor didn't spare him a moment without taking an opportunity to flirt. "I almost miss that— You know, the collar. But I'm appreciating the appeal of a little clavicle on display." His eyes darted towards the hint of chest barely hidden away, letting out a silly little laugh as he slipped his seatbelt back on & started the car with a press of the pushbutton ignition. There was barely a sound as the electrical system engaged, the only indication it was even on being from the screen at the center of the dash & the instrument panel coming to life.

It seemed that James wasn't the only one eager to go, though it wasn't for any reason besides wanting to enjoy his time with the older man. Connor wanted to see the priest relaxed, in his own element & not tied to duty or obligation. It was clear to the both of them that each took their professions quite seriously, but outside of the shackles of professionalism, they could be entirely themselves. Connor wanted to see that. He also wanted to get the man talking. James was so much more full of life experience. The detective expected he had lived a rather interesting life, rich with knowledge of so many things the younger had never heard of before. He felt he could listen to the priest speak for hours, & that was what he was intent on doing.

"Didn't stay at the precinct long. I may have snuck out…" A simple shrug, almost flippant in nature. Naughty thing. Connor wasn't always such a stickler for the rules, especially when he had other plans in mind. Besides that, he doubted very much that the priest could tire him out. Setting the car into gear, he glanced towards his date with a quiet enthusiasm that was bubbling beneath the surface. “So. Where are we going?”

There were times when James needed reminding that he was only human. Standing firmly in between Heaven and Hell, between angels and demons and all else that walked the Earth's soil, was it any wonder why he often forgot that he was simply a man? Not because he thought himself higher, or even lower, but the simple fact that he still needed to look after himself, still needed to eat, sleep and everything else that so many took for granted, that came so easily and naturally to them. It hadn't taken long for him to drift into bad habits, missing meals, grabbing barely a handful of hours sleep, pushing himself as he exercised just to have something else to focus on for a while. The burn of his muscles, the ache of them, it was something to think about, something to distract him from all the otherworldly and unworldly concerns that rattled around inside his head.

It was days like today that he welcomed most, not the investigation part, which was just a part of the norm for him, but getting to meet someone who tugged at his thoughts, drew him away from his fears and that never-ending feeling as if he were swallowed whole by the very darkness he so desperately fought against. The American was fascinating, intelligent, well-spoken, a good conversationalist, it seemed, what else did someone like James need to squirrel him away for a few beautiful hours? He certainly wouldn't gripe about the fact that Connor was rather handsome as well, a face that the Brit could imagine all manner of people, and otherwise, most likely, who would happily squeeze those cheeks in their hands and gaze into those hazel eyes. Dirty old man, he thought to himself, though it was hardly outright self-depreciation when he couldn't quite hold back one of his sly smiles at the mere thought of it. Why not indulge himself a little? Enjoy his time while he still had some before he finally became some grumpy old man who'd sit in his house all day and complain about modern music and how people were dressed these days at an ageing cat and dog. Some of that didn't sound entirely unwelcome, mainly the latter part, just another hope of his that when everything was said and done, he could sit back and enjoy the innocent company of some pets.

How wonderfully simple it seemed, so -- - normal. One could only hope.

No, for now, that was all he was, just some bloke going out on a date, no angel on his shoulder, no demon whispering in his ear, not even a priest and a detective, it was just him and Connor. Pausing by the mirror of one of the wardrobes, there he was again, that old silver-haired man staring back at him, a tiredness about him that seemed to stay regardless of how long he slept. Not that he managed much anyway, if he was able to get a solid eight hours, he was more than happy. Where had all that time gone? Would Connor have preferred him when he'd been a young man himself? That dark-haired lad without a lick of shame in him. Maybe that part hadn't quite left him, but now he held an air of wisdom that he hadn't back then, purely from lack of experience, he'd still been so new to the supernatural world, thrown in the deep end and expected to wade his way through from there. But he'd still enjoyed himself, still snuck out in the middle of the night during seminary school, escaping the dorms to meet with his friends and go to the pub, parties, whatever they could find or put together and spend the night dancing, singing and drinking, until the wee hours of the morning and James had to sneak his way back inside and try to sleep off some of the merriness in a few hours or so. If even that.

Needless to say, there had been times when he'd been caught. Once when he was halfway through a basement window, one leg in, one out and Fr. Larraby stood there eyeing him with disappointment and disgust as the scent of alcohol and cigarettes emanated from the Northerner. Even now, James couldn't help but laugh at the memory, not regretting it then and not regretting it now. Would Connor even look at that young man? Would they more than likely find themselves on opposing sides? James being dragged into the police station in handcuffs after being found wandering the streets with his friends as they drunkenly sang at the top of their lungs? He'd never been picked up like that back in the day, but he imagined things would be rather different now, rules felt stricter, people had less patience in some cases and for all sorts of reasons. Some reasonable, some not. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like growing up nowadays in comparison to what he'd known.

There it was again, that twinge of old age nagging at him.

Shaking it off with a literal shake of his head, he studied himself in the mirror, focusing on what he was wearing right down to his socks and shoes which he pulled on. Yet as he did so, a noise came from his phone, a text, which meant it wasn't some sort of emergency that was about to ruin his entire evening. Most of his peers knew that if they needed to contact him, it was best to phone him when it was something immediate, otherwise he took a far more lax approach in general. Unless he was expecting something, of course. Which he was at that moment, wondering if it really was Connor or just another scam text coming through in the hopes that he'd click some dodgy link. Moving with purpose, the Englishman grabbed his mobile from the bed, a wide grin enveloping his expression at the familiar number that came up. It was him.

It was now or never. Taking in a breath, James glanced around to make sure he had everything he needed, phone, wallet, keys, that was all he could really think of, all he could imagine needing. Quickly moving to the front door, that smile claimed him again as he opened it, sighting what he presumed to be the detective's car before he was able to see him inside it. He locked the house, checking the door handle just to be sure, it wasn't his house after all, the last thing he wanted was for it to be ransacked while he was away. A burglar would likely be rather confused by the contents though, it wasn't every day someone broke into a house and found holy water, books on demons and everything any other priest could possibly need or think of.

"No box of chocolates or bouquet of roses? I'm disappointed." The man uttered as he opened the car and slid inside, offering a faux huff of annoyance. "Suppose you'll just have to make it up to me some other way then." That wry smile settled again, spreading into a full-on grin as his tongue slid along his upper row of teeth with genuine amusement. He wasn't being serious, of course. He didn't expect a thing from anyone for any reason, even a date, or whatever label could be stamped on to the evening ahead of them. Settling himself, he pulled on his seatbelt before finally taking a moment to look at Connor, really look at him. "Well, don't you clean up nice?" Not that he'd been a mess before but James couldn't resist teasing him a little anyway. "Very handsome... break a lot of hearts with that gorgeous face of yours. It's a wonder I'm not fighting off potential suiters at this very moment." Admittedly, that was partly true, he genuinely wouldn't expect someone of Connor's visage and standing to be interested in a greying middle-aged man rather than a flock of youngsters around his own age and creed, not that he was going to complain about it.

"Paperwork didn't wear you out too much, I hope?" He asked as he sat back more comfortably, more than a little energised by the other man's presence and being so close to him again. This time without their jobs looming over them. For the most part. "Wouldn't want to be put to shame by an old man, now would we?"

[lostquinn]

Two detectives, one bed

Connor (dbh) x gn!reader

~Fluff~

Summary - the good old classic one bed trope with my favourite boy, Connor.

Screaming I love him so much

Word count - 892

You and Connor were working together on a mission, Hank had taken some time off since the revolution and so Connor was assigned to be your partner for a while until the older man returned.

You didn't mind having the androids company one bit, you'd always been fond of him even since before he deviated. Only now, he was more charming.

"Can we get a room please- two beds?" You muttered to the hotel owner at the desk.

Connor was off in a corner of the lobby, looking around quietly. You glanced over your shoulder to him, he was looking up at a painting on the wall with his lips slightly parted. He looked from the painting to you, grinned then turned back.

It was endearing seeing him react to the world around him now that he had deviated. It was like he had opened his eyes for the first time.

The hotel owner handed you a key and gave you directions to the room. Your current assignment meant the two of you were briefly out of town so a crappy hotel it was.

You approached him, key in hand "Come on, con," you said to your fellow detective.

"Okay detective," he smiled at you, polite as ever.

The two of you walked quietly to your hotel room. He was close to you, but not close enough to touch. You glanced at him while walking and smiled at the way the strands of stray hair bounced with each step.

"This should be it," you stopped as you turned to a closed door.

You scanned your key card and pushed the door open, only struggling slightly with the weight of the door.

As you stepped inside, you dropped the heavy bag from your back and placed it to one side. You felt Connor shuffle past you and enter the room properly.

"[Name]?" He muttered.

You hummed in response.

"There's only one bed-"

You let out a sigh as you turned to him, taking a step towards the android. You glanced at the bed then back to him.

"Fuck sake," you grit your teeth "I requested two."

"It's okay, I'm comfortable with it if you are. If not I will happily rest on the floor or a chair," His words were soft and kind.

"We can share the bed, Con," you sighed. "I'm going to have a shower." You muttered before disappearing off into the bathroom.

You had a long, hot shower and enjoyed every second. Connor sat on the edge of the bed, playing with his coin. He had already changed out of his uniform into something more comfortable to sleep in, well as close to sleep as he could get.

Soon, you made your way from the bathroom wearing you clean, warm pajamas, fully refreshed from the shower and ready for bed.

A yawn escaped your lips as you looked to him. He seemed so alive, so human. It was endearing, he'd come so far since he deviated.

"Ready for bed?" You asked, he met your gaze.

"I can rest whenever, are you ready?" He responded, tilting his head slightly.

"Yea, scoot over," you chuckled.

You slid into one side of the bed, wiggling under the covers and he moved to the other side. He lay still under the blanket, staring at the ceiling.

Once you were comfortable, he turned the lights off. You smiled to yourself, your back was to him as you lay next to your friend.

Eventually, you drifted to sleep easily. Knowing that he was there, and most probably aware of your surroundings, comforted you.

When you woke up it was still dark, a clock ticked displaying the time, 4:47AM. You'd however already noticed that there wasn't a clock on your side of the room.

You were no longer facing away from Connor, instead you head was resting on his chest. One of your hands rested on his chest beside you, his hand rested atop yours. You would have rolled away, however his other arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, keeping you close. There was nothing you could do so you closed your eyes again, attempting to get more sleep.

"Are you awake?" The android whispered, his words bounced around the room.

"No..." you muttered.

The room was quiet for a moment, his LED was certainly blinking yellow and you were sure he had an eyebrow quirked even if you couldn't see.

"That was a good attempt detective, however I saw your eyes open just now." He responded, confused and somewhat proud.

You let out a chuckle which soon turned into a laugh, you buried you face in his chest as you laughed at the conversation at hand.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, panic lacing his tone.

"Yeah, of course, Con," you giggled.

"I'm glad."

You opened you eyes and looked up at him, he was already looking at you, his LED blinking yellow.

You squirmed up closer to his face, closing the gap as you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His mouth opened slightly as he whispered a gentle 'oh'.

You returned to your spot on his chest and closed your eyes.

"I need more sleep," you mumbled, falling asleep once more.

Connor lay awake, his software malfunctioning as he attempted to process what had happened. All he wanted was for it to happen again.

[theshelbyclan]

Miss Shelby

Summary: While Tommy’s working on legal business and politics, Teddy’s taken over the old business in Small Heath. But when she gets personally involved, she puts herself in danger

A/N: This one’s pure self-indulgence. I had a dream about Teddy being about 20 and realised that would be set in season 5. So, here’s me imagining what Teddy would be like at that point in the series, at that age. She the last of the Shelby’s to have remained in Birmingham and she’s taken over the illegal business, while trying to keep the peace back home. She’s in charge of the betting, the racketeering and the protection now, and everyone in Small Heath knows they can rely on her, while also fearing her to some degree. In a way, she’s become what Tommy once was. Anyways, this is for me mainly, but if you like this one, let me know!

Words: 3902

*****

“Mind the shop, I’ll be back in half an hour,” Teddy threw the keys at Scudboat, put on her peaky cap and walked out the door of the old family home in Watery Lane.

A young woman in men’s clothing walking around Small Heath would’ve attracted some attention, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Teddy Shelby. Smoking silently, she made her way to the Garrison and as she did, people greeted her left and right, politely and with respect, “Good morning, Miss Shelby.”

Teddy nodded in reply and kicked at a football that was send her way by some kids playing in the lane. After Tommy had made them rich, after they’d worked their way up in politics, they’d agreed that the Shelby’s needed to keep heir homefront safe and theirs. This was Teddy’s job: at only 20 years old, she now ruled Small Heath with an iron fist, taking care of their own people first.

“Whiskey,” she told the barmaid, before entering the snug. Tommy looked up, and as soon as he saw it was his sister, he let some of the pretence drop. He slouched down in his chair and lit a cigarette, visibly relaxing. He’d spend all morning listening to people and their complaints. The things he had to endure as their MP...

“Tommy,” Teddy greeted him fondly. Every week, they’d meet up like this. Together, they would make sure they were on the same page and they discussed strategies like the olden days.

“Teddy,” Tommy nodded, a hint of a smile flashing across his features. He’d never say it out loud, but meeting with his youngest sister was usually the best part of his week. Sometimes, he thought about when she’d been little and he’d tried to keep her out of the family business. He’d always known that he was just putting off the inevitable.

“How’s the head?” Teddy asked in a sarcastic manner she shared with Ada.

“There’s nothing wrong with my head.”

“Hmm, could’ve fooled me...” Teddy shrugged, “In that case, how’s politics?”

Tommy fixed her with one of his stares and eventually said, “Family first. I heard you were seen with the son of the duke. Is my information correct?”

“Just for one night, Thomas,” Teddy rolled her eyes, because even though she was twenty now, Tommy still felt the need to treat her like a kid to be kept under observation, “Just a bit of fun.”

Tommy didn’t approve, but knew it wasn’t his place to speak. Also, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. That was the one thing that had never changed about Teddy: if she wanted to do something, no one was going to stop her from doing it. A duke’s son, in this case apparently.

Instead he asked, “Careful there. Don’t want to get involved with the aristocracy. They’re all mad.”

“Tommy, sweetheart, I am the aristocracy. I’ll be queen of the Boswell Romani’s one day. And this boy? He’s not good enough.”

“No man’s good enough,” Tommy nodded. And he meant it.

Teddy downed her drink, “Business?”

He cleared his throat and put on his glasses to read his notes, “Do you know a Mrs Connors? Lives near the washing house.”

“I do,” Teddy made a point of knowing everyone is Small Heath. And everyone knew her.

“Her husband beats her. I said we’d speak with him.”

She nodded slowly, “I’ll speak with him. Again.”

Tommy looked at his sister for a second. Something cold had made its way into her eyes and he knew, if there was one thing Teddy couldn’t stand, it was people who beat their wives or kids. She’d put a stop to it, today.

“Did you get the horse I told you about?” he continued.

“Yeah, but she won’t race, Tommy. She won’t take the saddle, I’ve tried. She not built for it. But I like her, so she’s mine now.” And when Tommy frowned she continued, “Let me and Curly find you a proper horse to race, alright? You’ve forgotten, Tommy, you need to see the horse first. Going off on the proper paperwork and breeding... it won’t work. You need to actually go out and see the horse.”

“If you have some something to say, Teddy, spit it out,” her brother sensed some type of judgement in her voice, “Saying I don’t know horses anymore? Saying I need to go and live in some fucking gypsy camp as well, just to gain your respect, eh?”

“Calm down,” she soothed, “I just think you need to get out more. Sitting all cooped up in parliament isn’t good for anyone. I’ll find us another horse, alright? I’ll take the horse up to that filthy gypsy camp where your younger sister now lives and have her washed for your inspection. And then you come with me and see about the horse and then you can decide.” She added sweetly, “Would that make you feel better, Thomas?”

For a second, she feared she’d gone too far and he’d explode in anger. But a small smirk appeared on his face and underneath his breath, she heard him mumble, “Cheeky devil...” She always could get away with murder when it came to Tommy.

Teddy smiled and said, “We had some trouble with a new gang. Some kids, coming up from Digbeth. Nothing to worry about, but they kept on robbing the widows.”

“Did you put a stop to it?”

“I put my men on it,” Teddy had a small army of men at her disposal, and with them, she kept control and she kept the peace, “They’re with us now.”

“Good.”

But Teddy wasn’t finished, “The problem’s the housing, Tommy. These kids grow up mean in these fucking slums. Can’t you and your posh cronies do something about it?”

Tommy could never shake the feeling that even though he had all this power and influence now, his youngest sister didn’t quite take him seriously. She looked up to him, obviously she did, but more in spite of his good standing than because of his good standing.

For a few minutes more, they talked of particular people in trouble, as well as national politics. Names were mentioned and money was exchanged, but before the end of their meeting, they were interrupted.

“Miss Shelby!” a little boy came barging into the room.

“You want to try that again?” Teddy told him in a strict tone, “Outside. Knock on the door and wait for me to call you in.”

Tommy shot her an amused glance, but the boy obeyed and waited outside this time, until Teddy told him he could come in. Breathless, he tried again, “They’ve done the cafe again! Bricks through the windows and they’ve taken their money. The woman, she’s crying and mentioned your name.”

“For fuck’s sake...” Teddy stubbed out her cigarette angrily. Then she produced her revolver from her pocket and started checking the bullets. To the boy she said, “Tell her I’ll take care of it personally.” After that, the boy left.

Tommy blew some smoke in her general direction and casually asked, “Personally?”

“These are good people, Tom. I won’t have them paying us for protection only to get the last of their savings stolen by some fucking factory scum.”

“So, send your men to do them,” he waved a hand, “No need to get your hands dirty.”

Teddy coughed a laugh, “We agreed, Tommy, I’d take care of business at home. Let me handle this the way I see fit.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” and as much as her brother tried to keep his voice emotionless, some worry did slip through. 

Tucking away her gun again, Teddy smiled lazily at him, “And if I do, that too, Tommy, won’t be any of your concern.” She stood up, grabbed his glass and downed his whiskey as well. Then she assured, “Until next week, brother.” 

Tommy sighed, shook his head and shouted after his unruly little sister, “No more fucking MP’s sons, you hear me?” But he knew she wouldn’t listen. She did a great job at keeping Small Heath under their control, he never had to worry about that, but she never, ever, fucking listened. 

*****

Back at the house in Watery Lane,Teddy opened the cabinet in the front room with one of the keys hanging from her trousers, and she took out a rifle. The big guns always did leave more of an impression on people. Carefully, she flipped it over and checked it, just like John had taught her once. Then she shouted out to Scudboat, who quickly joined her, “Take this one. Fill the one chamber with rock salt, alright? And the other with a normal bullet. We have a man to see about a cafe...” 

His eyebrows rose, but he did as she asked without protest. Scudboat was one of the most loyal employees the Shelby’s had ever had. He’d been with them in France and ever since, he’d been a trustworthy presence at the betting den. Without speaking, he’d watched Teddy grow up. From a cheeky mischievous little kid, he’d seen her grow into a young woman with a head for business. And he remembered telling Tommy, the day they’d come back from France: you watch that one. She’s either going to fuck up everything or take over one day. Obviously, he’d been right about the latter. 

As Teddy summoned some more of her men, she also send for some kids to gather information for her. With her small army of four, she sat at the table that was once used for family meetings. But when Billy came out with the whiskey, she told him, “No whiskey. Beer only. Save that for after, we have a job to do.”  “Right,” she announced, “Today we’re putting a stop to these fucking nuisances. These people think they can fuck with us? I’m making them an example. Danny, you’re coming with me and we’ll talk to the woman. Make sure she knows she’s alright. Scudboat and Ian, I want you down at the docks. Don’t let them get away before I can speak to them.” And so Teddy laid out her plans, while the others sat and listened. 

About half an hour later, she waltzed into the cafe. In there, the woman was still crying. When she looked up and saw Teddy, she immediately offered up all of her savings for even more protection. But Teddy refused to take the money; she told her they’d been the ones who fucked up and let this happen. She refused to take a penny. “Thank you, Miss Shelby...” the woman kept muttering, but Teddy waved a hand. She didn’t want her gratefulness; she wanted the bastards who did this.

When they made her way back onto the streets again, she heard some kids whisper, “Look, it’s Miss Shelby! They say she used to be one of us...”

“I am,” Teddy turned to them, which made them all practically jump in fear, “Don’t be afraid. If you fuck me over, then be afraid. But if you have any trouble, you come to me.” And that was exactly how she’d gained her control over Small Heath. 

Information had come to her that the robbers could be found near the Cut. “Tell them to clear the houses, just in case,” Teddy told her associate, not wanting to have any innocent bystanders shot in the process. Then she held her head up high, felt for the reassuring comfort of her gun and walked over to the men sitting by the docks. 

Confidently, she announced her presence, “Gentlemen.” 

One of them laughed at her, “It’s that Shelby bitch!” He wasn’t from around here; he clearly had no idea who he was dealing with. 

Teddy smiled back politely, “Indeed it is. I’m here to talk business, regarding the cafe down the road.” 

Again, one of them chuckled and he got up menacingly now, “Yeah, so we took it. What did you plan on doing about it, little girl?”

Taking her rifle, Teddy warned him casually in advance, “This is going to hurt.” And before he could laugh at her again, she shot the rock salt bullet into his leg. Writhing in agony on the ground, she then turned to the others. Like nothing had happened, she continued, “You’re in Small Heath, gentleman, and nothing happens here without my consent. Now, you may have gotten used to some freedom back in where ever the fuck it is you came from, but not here. Here, the Peaky Blinders are in control.” 

But one of them decided to be an idiot after all and made a grab for his own gun. Scudboat shot him before he could even aim it. Teddy took her rifle and shot the second one. Then she aimed her trusted revolver and number three and asked, “What is it going to be?” He took one look at his friend, still squirming in pain in the mud, and put down his gun. Teddy whispered a, “good boy”, and walked away, letting her boys deal with the clean-up. 

As she walked away, she heard one of them shoot the man she’d shot in the leg. There was no point in keeping him in agony; it’d served its purpose. Teddy lit a cigarette and tucked away her revolver. She never even heard the shot being fired at her, but when it hit her shoulder, she fell to the ground and the world became blurry at once.

*****

When she opened her eyes again, she was laying down on the table at the Garrison. Finn was hunched over her. As soon as she woke up, he called out, “Get her a bottle!”

“Bastard fucking shot me,” Teddy ground out, “in the fucking back!”

“Don’t move,” her brother ordered her, “The bullet’s still in. I’ve called for Jeremiah.”

Internally, Teddy tried to prepare herself for what was about to come. The pain was setting in now and it was making it hard to think. Gratefully, she took the bottle that was handed to her. “Make it quick,” she stumbled as she drank.

Finn and another one of her men helped her onto her side. “You do it,” she told Finn, not trusting anyone else to hold her down as Jeremiah got to work.

And to work, he got. As he was digging into her shoulder, Teddy’s primal shrieks filled the Garrison. For a moment, she thought she was going to pass out, but she wouldn’t allow herself to do so. Instead she clung onto consciousness, telling herself this was only temporary. She’d been shot before, but never like this. And just as her vision was starting to go dark again, she saw Jeremiah holding up a bullet triumphantly.

“It’s done...” she whispered to herself.

“Uhm,” Finn tried carefully, “Not really.” And before she could question him, he spilled the whiskey into the open wound on her back. Teddy screamed out in pain, the worst yet, and tears leaked from her eyes. But Finn held her and pressed his forehead into hers, while comforting her, “Now it’s done. Breathe, Teddy, breathe... you’re alright, baby. It’s done...”

And Teddy breathed.

Carefully, she hoisted herself up from the table, so that she could be bandaged. One of her men told her about what had happened to the robbers. None of them were kept alive, which was as it should be.

After they’d done, Teddy looked at Finn and noticed he had a certain nervousness about him. Then she concluded, “You’ve told Tommy.”

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it, Teddy.”

“Fucking hell...” she sighed, “He’s coming down here, isn’t he?”

Slowly, her brother nodded, “Couldn’t stop him.”

“Give me the bottle,” Teddy demanded, because if she had to face her older brother, she was really going to need it. And just as she had, said brother marched into the Garrison like he was on a mission.

Ignoring Teddy, he asked Finn, “Will she be alright?”

“Jeremiah took the bullet out. No internal bleeding. She’ll be fine.”

“Good!” Tommy faked cheerfulness. And then he slapped Teddy once on the back of her head.

“Ow!” she called out, wincing as she moved her shoulder, “I just fucking got shot!”

“I know you fucking did,” he said in a low voice and then bellowed, “Why the fuck do you think I’ve had to drag myself back into Small Heath!”

Teddy sighed deeply, realising a Thomas Shelby patented lecture was incoming, and she told her men, “Get back onto the streets and clean up the mess from this afternoon. Make sure the people know we’ve handled things.”

Tommy sank down in a chair and lit a cigarette, with an exasperated sigh, “ ‘We’ve handled things’... eh? You’ve fucking handled things? I fucking told you, Teddy, let other people do your dirty work for you!”

Finn, at once, tried to protect his sister, “Tommy, she usually doesn’t...”

But Tommy cut him off, “You fucking wait outside and let me talk to your sister, alright? Now, piss off, Finn.”

“Why are you here, Tom?” Teddy asked in earnest, after Finn had left. None of his preaching was going to change things.

“Wasting my fucking time on you!” he spat in reply, “I need you to manage the business, here, in Small Heath, but stop getting involved. Alright? This is no place for a little girl.”

“Oh fuck you!”

“Yeah? Well, fuck you too!” he shouted in reply, “I have better things to do than after twenty years still having to look out for my baby sister who, has, after twenty. fucking. years. YET TO LEARN TO BEHAVE!”

Teddy stared at him and felt at her shoulder for a moment. Then she said calmly, “Go and do you ‘better things’ then, Tommy. Thank you for coming and good bye. Fuck off.”

He pointed a menacing finger at her and whispered, very much like he’d done when she was little, “You talk to me like that again and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. You hear me, eh? I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re all grown-up now; I will spank you right here and now and I will make you fucking listen to me.”

Teddy tried to compose herself, but she couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing, “How are you even going to that when they literally just dug a bullet out of me.”

His irritation didn’t cease much, “I’ll find a way.”

“Tommy,” Teddy said bravely, “If you’re worried about me, just say you’re worried about me. You won’t die, you know, if you express some love. Go on, try it.”

He sighed again, “You’re actually going to drive me fucking insane one of these days, Theodora Shelby.”

“That’s ‘Miss Shelby’ to you,” she corrected him with half a smirk on her face, “Yeah, but you love me.”

He pointed at her again, but didn’t deny it either. Instead he said, “I need you to not get shot again.”

“I’ll try.”

“And you’re coming with me,” Tommy decided, “Back to Arrow House. Until you have recovered. I’ll have one of my maids take proper care of you.”

Teddy’s eyes lit up, but her brother quickly said, “I was talking about breakfast.”

Her face fell a little, “I’m needed here, Tommy.”

He scoffed, “I heard you shot a man with rock salt. Fucking brutal. Bravo. I don’t think you have to worry about anyone stepping out of line for a while.”

Teddy contemplated his offer for a moment. It would be good to get out of the smoke for a few days, “Alright I’ll come, but only because you’ve clearly missed me so much.”

Tommy rolled her eyes again, “I’ll have a car send for you.”

“On two conditions, though, Tommy.”

“What?” he snapped, taking the bottle from Teddy’s hands and bringing it up to his own lips.

“One: I need you to let me handle business down here. People respect me and the Blinders, but not just because I’m your little sister, but because of me. Do you understand? I need to be able to deal with things the way I feel is needed.”

“Fine,” he took another swig, “What’s next?” 

“Two,” Teddy continued without mercy, “I need you to take a holiday. With me.”

“I already tried fucking... golfing...” Tommy gestured around vaguely.

“Golfing will drive you mad.”

“It really fucking did.”

“Fuck golfing,” his sister said pointedly, “Come with me out on the road, just for a few days. We don’t have to talk. We’ll just take the vardo. Take your fucking kids, I don’t care, but you need to sleep under the stars again and eat a proper meal.”

Tommy looked at his sister and thought she looked like something... ancient. Like she remembered something from the olden days, even though she was too young to know. She told him, “Remember when you took me out on the January?” It was one of her most favourite memories of the two of them together, “Like that. You need it, Tommy. You’ve forgotten.”

“Forgotten what, eh?” But he didn’t expect an answer. He knew she was right. She never did listen, but she was usually fucking right.

“Do you agree to the terms as presented?” Teddy inquired in a business-like manner.

“Yes,” Tommy handed her back the bottle, “Now give me the bullet.”

Teddy furrowed her brows, “The one Jeremiah took from my shoulder? Why?”

“I’m going to have it framed,” Tommy said casually, “Fucking.. art. And I’ll name it: Teddy’s first and last bullet.”

“Tommy, this is hardly my first...”

He shot her a dangerous look.

“Fine. Frame the bitch.”

For a few more precious moments, they sat in silence. And then Tommy asked Teddy, “What’s happened to us, eh?” In his mind, he was thinking about everything that had changed in the last decade. From a cutthroat razor gang, they were now a political influence to reckon with. The Shelby’s, they were no longer just feared, but respected too. Not one of them had to grow up barefoot and mean: they had money now, houses, horses. Nothing seemed the same, and still, still, they always came back to Small Heath. His sister couldn’t be kept away, for one.

“The world’s changed, Tommy,” Teddy said softly, “but we haven’t.”

He looked at her and laughed, really laughed, like he hadn’t done in years.

And Teddy Shelby grinned back at him, “You and me? We’ll never change. We’ll always be...”

He leaned forwards a lit her cigarette for her, when he finished her sentence, “We’ll always be this.”

“Whatever the fuck ‘this’ is,” Teddy joked, taking a drag.

“It’s you being a pest and me cleaning it up,” he laughed again. Teddy liked the sound of it: she’d missed it.

For a moment, she looked at her brother and saw the boy in the fields again, the optimistic soldier going off to war, the broken man coming back, the ambitious Blinder in Small Heath, the robber, the fighting man and the gangster, and the calculating politician, all in one. To her it was all the same: her favourite brother. And she told him, teasingly, “Nah, it’s you falling apart and me picking you up.”

Suddenly, he was serious, and he blurted out, “So, pick me up.”

“Always,” Teddy promised.

And the two of them smoked and drank their whiskey in silence. The Shelby’s didn’t know much about love, but what they did know, this was it.

Peace.

*****

Masterlist

[kyberphilosopher]

Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.

Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man. 

This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off. 

There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men. 

This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.

 * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.

Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot. 

Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried. 

(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”

“Shut the hell up.”)

The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one. 

You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point. 

And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day. 

And then...

As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.

So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man. 

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”

“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”

He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn. 

“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”

Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering. 

In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard. 

“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”

“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above. 

He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you. 

You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible. 

“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”

Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman. 

But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath. 

It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do. 

You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks. 

The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?” 

You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”

Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.

“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”

Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”

“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”

Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something. 

“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”

“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that. 

“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”

“But the bias is the whole point.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’. 

“You talked to Connor about this?”

“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”

Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”

You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch. 

“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”

“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans. 

And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even. 

But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...

You snap your drawer shut. 

What’s wrong with you today? 

You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again. 

“Doctor L/N?”

You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person. 

And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark. 

“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”

“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair. 

“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins. 

Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close. 

“When?” you question. 

“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”

Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement. 

“I know that this must be difficult for you-”

“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”

The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”

And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.

“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”

“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.

“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”

There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine. 

And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself. 

And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half. 

“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”

Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”

Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones. 

Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response. 

“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”

You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”

“It’s just-”

“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings. 

As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused. 

Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike. 

A man, as usual. 

Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory. 

On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will. 

You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time. 

“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand. 

“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually. 

“The kid?”

“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment. 

Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change. 

“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”

You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all. 

“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot. 

“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”

Yep. Thanks, Hank. 

The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again. 

Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all. 

“You coming?”

“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”

“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”

“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”

“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately. 

Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth. 

“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”

“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”

“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something. 

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”

Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last. 

“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed. 

Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away. 

Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him. 

You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around. 

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly. 

“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly. 

“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes. 

“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time. 

“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him. 

“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl. 

“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally. 

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”

“I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”

“Well... how would you like to address me?”

Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it. 

“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding. 

He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”

“What would you prefer?”

His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”

This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject. 

“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food. 

Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat. 

Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”

“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”

Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.

“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”

“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”

Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question. 

“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”

You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond. 

The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought. 

It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible. 

“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.

“Yes, thank you.”

You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.

Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.

“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump. 

You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one. 

Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense. 

Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend. 

Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe. 

The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt. 

“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded. 

“Doctor L/N?”

No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help. 

“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder. 

You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes. 

“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips. 

“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly. 

“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it. 

“You have... drool on your lips.”

You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”

“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building. 

“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

That night, it rains. 

Thunder echoes, with  ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands. 

You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes. 

A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning. 

You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it. 

You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual. 

Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.

Come on, Hank, you think.  Please protect me. Please do this for me. 

And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android. 

A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are. 

Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you. 

“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now. 

“Can I come in?”

Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good. 

“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor. 

That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?

Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”

Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself. 

“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes. 

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea. 

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators. 

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him. 

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy. 

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does. 

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying. 

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead. 

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second. 

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[heymacy]

I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Thank you Arrow!! 💗

Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"

--

There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.

The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.

The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?

The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.

Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.

Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.

The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.

He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.

"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.

He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.

Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form

Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.

"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.

"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.

"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.

"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."

Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.

"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."

"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.

Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.

"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.

--

Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.

He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.

Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.

"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.

"What's this guy's name again?"

Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.

"Derek," he said plainly.

"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."

"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."

Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.

"You guys Ian and Mackie?"

Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.

"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.

Ian shook his hand firmly.

"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."

"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"

Ian nodded.

"Little over a year now, yeah."

Derek nodded.

"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."

The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.

He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.

"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"

Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.

"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."

If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.

Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.

"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"

"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."

Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"

"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."

Ian sighed.

"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"

"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"

"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"

Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.

"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.

"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.

"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.

Mickey snorted.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.

"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mickey laughed out loud.

"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."

Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.

"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.

"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.

"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.

"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.

"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."

"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."

Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.

"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.

"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.

Derek snorted.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."

Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.

Just another day on the South Side.

Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.

"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."

Mickey shrugged.

"He kinda deserved it."

Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.

"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.

"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.

"I mean, you kinda had to."

Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.

"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.

"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"

Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.

Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.

"Because you love me."

Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.

When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.

"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.

"You're a fuckin' sap, man."

"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.

"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.

Ian shook his head.

"Nah, he can sleep it off."

He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.

"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."