#I’m trying to lead waltz and it’s honestly stressful

[rainia]

that said paso doble is an EPIC dance I fucking love it sm I am determined to learn it

[incoherentbabblings]

timsteph (71 + 72 )

700 Followers Celebration:

71. “God, I love you.” + 72. “You’re so fucking cute.”

May I offer you a missing scene from Wouldn't It Be Funnier perhaps?

Alfred had been a very strict teacher. Somehow, in between all the regular butler-ing for Bruce, plus the number one aide to Batman-ing, plus being Tim and Stephanie’s wedding planning assistant, Alfred had found time to be a dance teacher.

It was honestly rather sweet.

“This is the first wedding the Wayne family has had in two generations. Forgive me if I get a little over excited.”

Stephanie had never seen such sparkles in Alfred’s eyes before.

As it was, they would spend every evening in the ballroom of Wayne Manor, practicing over, and over, and over again. Alfred wanted the two to look effortless.

But Tim and Stephanie were not Dick or Cassandra when it came to dancing. As a matter of fact, dancing came as easily to Tim as any of his fighting skills. That is to say, he had no innate talent for it. He had to work, and work hard, to get it right. Stephanie had a slight advantage, being a gymnast when she was younger meant she had better rhythm than he, but as it was, she too was struggling.

“You have to let him lead, Miss Brown,” Alfred chided near daily.

“But I’m no good,” Tim moaned. Stephanie meanwhile stood six steps away, arms folded defensively.

The weather had been frightfully warm this week, and looked as though it was going to continue. The ballroom, with its huge glass windows and doors, felt akin to a greenhouse, rising all the time in temperature and humidity.

Stephanie tugged at her shorts, bemoaning having to stand in her wedding shoes for this long. She'd need to take them off on the day, she was sure of it. They’d been practicing for so long and so hard that she had scuffed them the other day, which Alfred had uncharacteristically panicked at. Snatching them away, of course the man also fancied himself a cobbler, on top of his many other talents.

If Stephanie had her way, the reception would not involve a waltz as a first dance. It had been strangely important to Tim. She could tell though, he was starting to doubt himself. They’d committed to this though, and the wedding was barely two weeks off. Of all the things that were stressing Tim about the wedding, Stephanie was surprised it was the concept of the first dance. Did he think their family and friends would mock them for it?

“Should we change song?” she asked. It was still playing in the background, some Shostakovich waltz that she’d heard before but never known the actual title of. It was a nice song. Incredibly romantic, which - if she was being brutally honest - Tim wasn’t particularly. It was all a bit suspicious.

“No!” both he and Alfred yelled out. Embarrassed, Tim stepped away, hands shaking, trying to work through his aggravation. Alfred took a deep breath, stating, “We have made many strides, it’s important to see the things through that we start.”

“Yes but…”

Tim turned back. “I’m letting you curate everything you want for this thing-”

Stephanie became alarmed. “I haven’t been pushy have I? I keep asking you to look at the flowers I picked and…”

“No, but…” Tim sighed. “I want this one thing. Please.”

She nodded. “I don’t like seeing you upset.”

“I’m not”- he cut himself off, exhaling heavily - “It’s the heat,” he weakly argued.

Alfred it seemed had finally had enough for the day. “We shall try again tomorrow. We’ll get there, don’t worry. Plenty of time still.”

Stephanie observed Tim, then turned back to Alfred, “Can you leave the music? I just want a couple more tries with him.”

Alfred did so, and Stephanie watched Tim walk valleys into the marbled floor. When the large doors leading away from the room closed, Stephanie cut through Tim’s path of brooding.

“What’s so special about this song?” she asked.

He tensed, impossibly looking stiffer and more robotic, and Stephanie knew she had hit the nail on the head. “Tim?” she prodded.

He was soon back in her arms, their cheeks pressed together. “My mom and dad had this song at their wedding. I know they weren’t exactly happy at the end, but I thought, if I can’t have them here, to see you, then…”

Sweet boy. Sweet, lovely, kind, earnest, darling boy.

“God, I love you,” she said, pushing hard so she could look him in the eye. “And I think this is a perfect way to make sure they’re remembered. No changing the song then. Come on. Keep trying. We’ll get there. Be confident.”

Her hand found his, whilst her waist was held tight. He looked down, like he always did, watching his feet. Stephanie for once listened to Alfred’s advice, and allowed herself to be dragged around. She could hear him mutter to himself one two three, one two three four, one two three over and over. Her smile widened.

He looked up at the wrong moment, seeing her look at him so indulgently, and blushed.

“I am trying,” he argued.

She tilted her head, knowing she was watching him unabashedly and adoringly. “I know. I’m just thinking that…”

“What?” he asked, pulling her around the room. It was the longest he’d gone without looking down. He stumbled a number of times, movements jerky and still not practiced, but Stephanie wanted to push that it wasn’t the point.

Picturing Jack in her mind’s eye, she couldn’t imagine the man was much of a dancer either, even in his younger years.

Tim spun her out, allowing her to twist on the balls of her feet, then return to his embrace. It was the first time they’d gotten it right. The proud look on Tim’s features reminded her of a smug cat. She couldn’t help it, she laughed brightly.

“...You’re so fucking cute, Tim. You have no idea.”

“I try,” he said, shrugging bashfully.

Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. “And it counts for everything. Keep going. We’ll get there.”

And he did.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 126

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,525ish

Summary: Y/N sees her men after saying goodbye to Coulson and the team. Infinity War starts.

Tony’s apartment was dark and quiet, which was extremely unusual for any of Tony’s places of living. 

“Tony?” Y/N called, her body was exhausted. She was trying to hold herself together from also saying goodbye to part of her family. “Tony?”

“The Boss is currently away on a business trip, Agent Rogers,” FRIDAY responded. “I will inform him that you are here.”

“Thanks… Uh, FRIDAY?”

“Yes?”

“I’m… I…”

“If I could step in, it seems like your body is exhausted, running on its last amounts of fuel. May I suggest that you rest? I will order food and work with Mr. Stark to get him here as fast as possible.”

“Okay… I’ll be in Tony’s room.”

~~~

“Y/N?” Tony called. 

When FRIDAY had told him that Y/N was back, Tony quickly ended the meeting he was in and flew home. He had been kept up to date on the SHIELD issues, since they were being broadcast everywhere. The man hunt was on Y/N like nothing it had before. He was concerned and so very worried, Tony was barely making it through the meeting.

“Y/N? Are you there?” He tried again, exiting his suit and searching his apartment.

“Boss,” FRIDAY responded. “She is resting in your room. She came back with extreme exhaustion. I’ve sent her to be and ordered food.”

“Thanks, FRI,” Tony sighed, relieved. 

He quickly, but quietly, made his way up to his room. Opening the door, the light from the hallway illuminated a very asleep Y/N, buried in the covers. He walked over, tucking her into the covers more before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Tony?” She rasped, eyes half opening.

“Go back to sleep,” he urged, brushing his fingers over her cheek. “I’ll let you know when the food’s here.”

She nodded, quickly falling back to sleep. Tony watched her lovingly before changing into something comfier. He was in the living room, waiting for the food, when the elevator dinged. Quickly on guard, Tony stood up defensively. He relaxed slightly when he noticed Peter waltzing in, bags of food.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter greeted excitedly.

“Hey, kid,” Tony responded. “What ya got there?”

“Oh, FRIDAY told me that you needed me to run and get some food. Even told me where to go and what to go.”

“FRIDAY, huh?” He looked up at the ceiling with a little shake of his head. “We’re going to have a conversation later.”

“Am I intruding on something?”

“No, kid,” Tony sighed. “It’s about time I let you in on a little secret.”

“A secret? What secret?”

“How about you go and get everything set up for three in the kitchen and I’ll be right back?”

“For three? Okay, Mr. Stark!” 

The kid rushed away to the kitchen. Tony headed back to the bed room. He had the urge to leave Y/N sleeping, as she very well needed it, obviously. But she needed to eat as well. He walked over and gently sat next to her.

“Y/N,” he called softly. “Time to wake up.”

“Hmm?” She hummed, stirring from her slumber. 

“Food’s here. And, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Meet?” Y/N was more awake now. “Tony, you know I can’t—“

“They won’t say anything to anyone. I promise.” He grabbed one of her hands and brought it up to his lips for a kiss. “Please?”

“Okay, Tony,” she nodded. Her stomach growled as she threw the covers off of her.

Tony chuckled. “You hungry?”

“A little.” She put her hands out. “A little help.”

Tony smiled and nodded before grabbing her hands. He carefully guided Y/N so that she was standing. Keeping hold of one of Y/N’s hands, Tony began to lead them out of the bedroom. Suddenly, Y/N tripped over her own tired feet.

“Woah, there, honey,” Tony said, steadying her. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh… honestly, I don’t remember,” Y/N responded. “It was… I thought happened.”

“And you better plan on telling me all about it after dinner.”

“Yes, Tones.”

Tony wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist to keep her more steady as they made their way to the kitchen. When they arrived, Y/N saw a teenager, one from the pictures on the wall. He was setting up dinner.

“Mr. Parker,” Tony called, the boy’s head snapped to look at his mentor. The boy was clearly surprised to see who was standing beside Tony. “I’d like you to meet Y/N. Y/N, this is Peter Parker. Or, Spider-Man.”

“Hello, Mr. Parker,” Y/N greeted holding her hand out for the young hero to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Peter nervously shook Y/N’s hand. “You’re…” He swallowed. “Y-you’re Lady America. I… I fought your brother in Germany.”

“You did, huh?” Y/N gave Tony a look. Tony looked away, not willing to meet her eye. 

“Yeah! I even stole his shield from him.”

“Well, that sounds like an interesting story. I’d love to hear it sometime.”

“Okay!” / “Let’s not.”

“Miss Rogers, I promise I won’t tell anyone about seeing you,” Peter continued as they sat at the table. 

“Thank you, Peter,” Y/N replied. “It means a lot.”

“How was school today, kid?” Tony asked, taking Y/N’s plate and dishing food onto it. “And patrol? Save any cats?”

“School was school. I spent most of science reworking my webbing. And I didn’t save any cats today, Mr. Stark. Just some old ladies crossing the street.”

Y/N honestly enjoyed the dinner with Tony and Peter. It was a sense of normalcy that had disappeared from her life what seemed like ages ago. After dinner was done, Peter needed to go home to get Aunt May. He awkwardly said goodbye before disappearing into the elevator. Y/N leaned back into Tony once Peter was gone. Tony pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Coulson’s dying,” Y/N whispered.

“What?” Tony quickly moved so that he was facing Y/N. “How?”

“I don’t know. But, I said goodbye to him and the team. Only final time.”

Tony pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” he said softly. “I know how much they meant to you.”

“He was there when I woke up… he was my first friend.”

“Do the others know? Does Daisy know?”

“No. And I wasn’t meant to find out.”

Tony looked down at Y/N. “What do you need me to do?”

“Hold me.”

So that’s what he did, all night long.

~~~

To say Bucky was anxious would be an understatement. Y/N had been gone for about a week, without a word from her. Shuri had tried to cheer him up, but it was only met with grumpiness. He was beginning to worry that something had happened to her. After that worry crept it, Bucky noticed that T’Challa and the others were keeping something from him.

“What do you know?” Bucky asked, marching into the throne room where T’Challa and his counselors were.

“Leave us,” T’Challa requested, and the others quickly left. “This is about Y/N.”

“What do you know?”

“I will show you.”

T’Challa showed Bucky the news footage of Talbot’s press conference and him getting shot in the head by Daisy, only for Y/N to appear moments later.

“The government will stop at nothing to throw her in Raft,” T’Challa stated. “I have—“

“They won’t waste their time with Raft,” Y/N’s voice came from behind. The men spun around to see her standing there. “They’ve already made it clear that they will kill me on sight.”

After spending time with Tony, Y/N knew she needed to go back to Wakanda to see Bucky. She willingly let Tony make her breakfast before fighting him to let her leave. Luckily, she won.

“But I’m fine,” Y/N continued. “Healed it myself.” Bucky began marching towards her, clearly angry. “What? I’m okay, I pro—“

She was quickly cut off by his lips smashing onto hers. With his only arm, he pulled her into him, keeping her tightly against his chest. Y/N could feel all the worry and frustration that was being poured into the kiss.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Bucky growled against her lips. 

“I’m sorry,” she replied softly. “I really had no choice.”

T’Challa cleared his throat, reminding the two that they were not alone. “I’m glad that you are alright, Y/N,” T’Challa said with a slight smile. “I’m afraid Barnes here was about to burn the whole country down to search for you.”

“The whole country, huh?” She looked at Bucky, teasingly. “Wow.”

“The whole country, no,” Bucky defended. “The whole world, that’s probably about right.”

“Cause that would solve the problem.”

“Anything to get me to you, doll.” He gave you a softer kiss. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. And I’m safe.”

~~~

The next year went by in this weird, fast-slow sort of way. Both Tony and Bucky were as understanding as they could be with the situation Y/N was putting them in. But as time went on, the more frustrated and jealous both men became. Valentine’s Day was honestly the least problematic of any of the holidays. And that was saying something.

Alone, Y/N worked to gain more control and confidence with her abilities. She needed to be ready for whatever was coming. At the start of 2018, the Stones slowly began haunting her dreams, concerning both men greatly. Sleeping was becoming a luxury. The Stones showed to her their powers and the vision Wanda showed her three years previous. They kept telling her to prepare, but not exactly what to prepare for. 

The mounting stress of choosing between the men she loved and the oncoming battle that laid ahead, was enough to make anyone go crazy. But Y/N tried her best to keep an even killed head on her shoulders. Both her men could see that this was all weighing on her, but they did their best (somedays) to take a weight off of her.

Y/N also began to grow more angry at Steve. Though she missed him greatly. She was so mad at him. Mad at him for not reaching out or appearing to not care. She was mad at him for not telling her about Howard’s death and for not being willing to see outside his stubborn ass. For that being there when she lost AJ. But Y/N also missed him terribly. Steve was her twin after all. She would always love him.

It was now currently April and Y/N was up late after having visions of the Reality and Power Stones. And a purple giant. She was alone in her Wakandan bedroom, staring at her hands nervously. She had woken up deciding that she couldn’t wait any longer to choose. A choice needed to be made before what ever was haunting her came. In all honesty, Y/N had known for months, who’d she choose. She was just lying to herself.

With a deep breath, Y/N looked over at her side table. There were two clocks on the table, one with New York’s time and one with Bucky’s. It was almost time for her morning run with Tony. 

“I guess it’s time to make the choice official,” she whispered to herself. “Someone help me.”

~~~

Tony was already waiting at the Compound for Y/N. He had bought the property on the other side of the lake months back so that their dates could be outside more. He put in a dirt path so that they could run in the mornings too. Tony was leaning against a tree, waiting for Y/N, with his fingers running over his knew (detachable) arc reactor. Ever since Y/N began to struggle to sleep at night, he knew he needed to do something to protect them. To protect her. The new arc reactor didn’t get placed without a fight. But Y/N eventually gave in.

“You ready to lose again, tin man?” Y/N teased, appearing through a portal beside him.

“I never mind losing,” Tony smirked. “The view’s great.”

“Perv!” 

Y/N playfully swatted him. Tony grabbed her hands and pulled her into him for a kiss. Something was off about it.

“You okay?” He asked, pulling away.

“Yeah,” she responded, unconvincing. “Just ready for a run.”

She pecked his lips once more before sprinting off. He quickly followed. They ran in silence for a while before Tony started talking, but it wasn’t all making sense to Y/N.

“Slow down, slow down,” Tony requested. “I’m totally not kidding.”

“You’re totally rambling,” Y/N laughed, slowing down to a walking speed.

“No, I’m not.”

“Lost me.”

“Look, you know how you're having a dream, and in the dream you gotta pee?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded.

“Okay, and then you're like, 'Oh my god, there's no bathroom, what am I gonna do?', 'Oh! Someone's watching,' ''m gonna go in my pants.’”

“Right. And then you wake up, and in real life you actually have to pee.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Everybody has that.”

“Right! That's the point I'm trying to make. Apropos of that, last night, I dreamt, we had a kid.” Y/N stopped turning to face Tony. “So real. We named him after an eccentric uncle. Uh, what was his name?”

“Right… Tony, I think—“

“Morgan! Morgan.” He snapped his fingers.

“So you woke up, and thought that we were…”

“Expecting.”

“Really?”

“Yes?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “We haven’t even had sex in a year. How could that me possible?”

“I had a dream about it. It was so real.”

“I’m sure it was, Tony. But I haven’t even—“

“I know, I know. You haven’t chosen yet. But just think about it, will ya? My dream can’t be far off.”

Y/N sighed and untied the jacket sleeves around Tony’s neck. “Also, if you wanted to have a kid, you wouldn’t have done that.” She tapped the new reactor.

“I'm glad you brought this up, 'cause it's nothing. It's just a housing unit for nano particles.”

“It's not helping your case, OK?”

“No, no, it's an attachment, it's not a—“

“You don’t need that.”

“I know. I had the surgery. I'm just trying to protect us. The future uses, and that's it. Just in case there's a monster in the closet, instead of, you know…”

“Shirts?"

“You know me so well. You finish all my sentences.”

“You should have shirts in your closet.”

“I should have more of your shirts in my closet.”

“Tony—“

“I know, getting ahead of myself again. You know what there should be no more surprises. Let’s have a nice dinner tonight and we should have no more surprises. I should promise you.”

“Actually, Tony, I really need to talk to you about something. I made—“

“Tony Stark,” a man with a red cloak appeared a few feet away. There was an orange portal behind him. “Y/N Rogers, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. And I need you both to come with me.”

next chapter >

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NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

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[scuttling]

Vacation (All I Ever Wanted)

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 11,425 (Broken into 3 chapters on A03) Tags: SFW, Pre-relationship, Getting together, Vacation, Dancing, Drinking, Flirting, Pining, Minor pre-relationship Morgan/Garcia Summary: The team takes a much needed vacation, and things between Sophie and Aaron heat up. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 1 year-1 year 3 mo at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below!

Friday It’s Garcia’s idea for the team to go to Virginia Beach for the weekend, everyone stressed out from the work week and in desperate need of some fun. Hotch and Gideon initially decline—it sounds like a bit too much fun, a young person’s trip—but Sophie announces “if everyone doesn’t go, no one goes,” and that kind of makes the decision for them.

They pile into two cars—Hotch, Gideon, Reid, and Sophie in one and Morgan, Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ in the other—to make the three hour drive on a Friday afternoon, and Gideon calls in a favor from a friend and gets them a beautiful house on the beach for the weekend.

“So after we get settled in, what’s next?” Prentiss asks as they unload the cars, their usual go-bags abandoned in favor of normal luggage.

“Dinner! Please say dinner,” Sophie pleads, and Emily pats her on the head affectionately.

“Okay, little one, dinner it is.”

“I know a great place down the boardwalk with plenty of options for vegetarians,” Garcia states, heels clicking on the tile of the kitchen, and the plans kind of evolve from there. Everyone heads to their rooms to change from work clothes to more appropriate attire, and soon they’re mostly gathered in the kitchen, just waiting for the stragglers.

Sophie, he notices (can’t help but notice anymore, and he’s come to terms with that,) looks incredibly beautiful in a silky, tropical print sundress and nude heels; she belongs in this kind of environment, salt air blowing her hair, slight flush on her cheeks. She looks like a goddamn supermodel, and it only serves to make his heart ache that much more when he looks at her.

“We should go dancing after dinner,” JJ, the last to join the group, mentions, and almost everyone agrees. Gideon grumbles something like, ‘damn kids’ as they file out of the house, and Hotch can’t help but laugh.

They find an Italian restaurant everyone can agree on that can accommodate them on short notice, and they’re seated quickly; Sophie is swiftly pacified by a basket of bread and a glass of wine, and everyone is happy, laughing, just as intended.

“What is calamari, again? I know it’s some type of disgusting seafood,” Garcia says, looking over the menu with a grimace, and Sophie returns the expression.

“Calamari, my dear, is Italian for squid.” She makes a fake retching noise, then turns to her partner. “Dr. Reid, give us a fun fact about squid.”

“While often confused with the octopus, squid have eight legs plus two tentacles, which actually makes them Decapods. The tentacles are used to grab prey and the legs are used to control it.” He smiles, looking pleased that he was asked to give a piece of trivia about something unrelated to a case, and Sophie grins back.

“Thank you. I didn’t know about the tentacles.” She tilts her head to look back to her menu, but catches Hotch’s eye and smiles.

He’s a little proud that he managed to pick the perfect partner for Reid, even if it meant the position was vacant for longer than he would have liked; he truly can’t imagine the BAU without Sophie, even if he is a bit biased now.

After dinner, Gideon retires back to the house, and the rest of them make their way to a beachside bar JJ finds with good reviews. Everyone is about two drinks in, and everyone but Hotch is dancing: Morgan and Garcia are dancing together, JJ and Prentiss are dancing together, and Sophie is doing her best to teach Reid how to dance.

“Put your right hand here,” she guides, placing his hand on her slim waist, “none of the hand-on-butt most guys prefer.”

“There’s something to be said for hand-on-butt,” Morgan shouts over the noise, and the girls laugh.

“Yes, there is, but time and place. I’m teaching him how to dance; someone else is going to have to teach him that.” She smiles up at him and takes his other hand, clasps their fingers together, and holds their arms out a bit. “Arms like this for now, or a little closer when you get closer to your partner.” She demonstrates by hovering her hand over his chest. “If they do this, they're getting comfortable, you can lean a little closer. Might even be a good time for a kiss, if you think it’s heading that way.”

“How do I know if it’s heading that way?”

“Well, social cues and body language are important. If I were you, I’d observe the other people in this room. Personally, if I want to kiss someone, I can’t take my eyes off of them leading up to it. Either their eyes, or, you know. Their lips.” Her own turn up in a smile. “If they're looking at your lips, you should probably kiss them.”

She rests her hand lightly on his arm, just above his elbow, and they take a few steps, a smile and kind words of encouragement passing her lips. “That’s good. I know you’re nervous now, but when you’re dancing with someone you really like, it will feel more natural. Like you’re the only two people in the whole world.” They take a few turns around the floor, and then switch partners, Garcia with JJ, Morgan with Sophie, Prentiss with Reid.

A bit of time passes—team members have come to the table to rest, hydrate, drink, in shifts—and then Sophie heads toward him, shaking her head with a soft laugh.

“That kid is so smart about most things, and then just hopeless about others,” she tells him as she stands at his side, taking a sip of water. “Don’t you like to dance?”

“I do, but you guys are having your fun. I don’t mind keeping an eye on things.” She raises an eyebrow, takes the beer out of his grasp and then takes his hand, pulling him to the dance floor. She catches Reid’s attention and then points to the table they abandoned.

“Will you keep an eye on the drinks, please? Hotch is off duty.” He nods seriously, hops off the stool he’s perched on and heads for the table; Hotch makes a noise of protest.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“He’s observing, he can do that from over there. You aren’t our unit chief right now, you’re a man on vacation, and if you like dancing, you should dance.” She stops, stands in front of him, looking a little deflated. “I’m sorry. Do you want to dance with me? I’m being overbearing.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he says honestly, with a smile, and she returns the gesture. He places his hand carefully on her waist, takes her hand just like she’d shown Reid earlier; she lays her left arm along his, hand at his shoulder, and they move easily, smoothly across the floor. “Where did you learn how to dance? You seem like a good teacher,” he says softly after a moment, fearful that he’ll break the bubble they’re in if he speaks any louder.

“My aunt owned a dance studio, and my cousin Damian and I were always getting thrown in to demonstrate when she was short handed. I taught a couple classes there while I was putting myself through school.” A couple passes by them, closer than it seems either of them are comfortable with, and they squeeze a little closer together, his hand wrapping across her back, their arms tucking in.

“What kind of dancing do you do?”

“Mostly waltz, rumba, salsa. You?” He’s heard of waltz, salsa, doesn’t know much about rumba, but can imagine she looks graceful, gorgeous, when she dances it.

“Mostly just this. Do you ever go dancing back at home?”

“Sometimes. It’s hard without a partner, because guys can be creeps. They think that dancing means you have to go home with them.” He’s sure his eyes harden, thinking about what men must put her through when she’s just trying to enjoy herself, other women as well. It’s one of many things that irritates him about his gender. “I know dancing with a partner is sexy, but I can separate the dancing from the sexy. When I want to.” She glances up at him, and he’s probably imagining it, but it seems like she might be looking at his lips.

The song ends, transitions into one that’s slower, and they get a little closer, so that her hand presses against his chest, her head almost resting against his shoulder. She feels so good in his arms, smells like heaven, and he would love nothing more than to stay like that all night, but by the end of the song most of the others are back at the table, looking a little faded, and he supposes this good thing must come to an end. As if she senses the shift in his mood, she steps back with a smile.

“Thank you for dancing with me. You’re a great partner.”

“Better than Reid?” he asks with a smile, though it’s all in fun; he’s happy he got to see the youngest agent let loose for once.

“Yes. No offense to him,” she tacks on, and they both laugh softly, “but I like a man who can lead.” He wants to keep her hand in his, to lead her back to the table with their friends, to the house, to her room, but he knows it’s not wise, or even possible, so he lets her walk ahead and tries not to get too caught up in his own mind. They walk back to the house as a group, laughing and bantering as usual, and mostly everyone heads straight to bed—with the exception of Derek and Sophie, who are chatting in the kitchen and making a late-night PB&J.

“I can’t believe you got the boss man dancing,” Derek says, pouring a glass of milk to go with his sandwich, and Sophie laughs softly.

“I practically forced him to, I wouldn’t read that much into it.” He cocks a brow.

“I don’t know, you two looked pretty cozy. Dancing around like you didn’t have a care in the world.” He mimics a waltzing hold, spinning around the kitchen with his eyes closed; she laughs, a little shy, then tries to make a joke of it to hide her emotion.

“What can I say, I’ve got chemistry with everyone; it's a blessing and a curse.” He gestures between them with the hand not holding his glass.

“You and I don’t have that kind of chemistry.”

“That’s because you’re sharing all yours with Penelope,” she teases, taking a bite of her sandwich, and he chuckles.

“That’s just me and my girl. You know how we are.”

“Yes, I do: deeply in denial.” He looks at her with serious eyes, pointing at her, then himself, when he speaks again.

“Pot, kettle.”

“I’m not in denial about anything, trust me,” she replies, looking down at her plate. “I am very aware of my feelings at all times.”

“Okay, so there are feelings.” She rolls her eyes lightly.

“I’m not a robot, I have feelings.”

“For Hotch?” he asks, and the question is far too direct for her liking. She sighs.

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. He’s still my boss. So don’t go trying to play Cupid or something.”

“Me? Interfere with your social life?” She scoffs, and he grins. “I’m just saying. There are ways around the boss thing, if you do have feelings for him.”

“And I’m just saying, it’s totally fine for a special agent to date a technical analyst. You don’t even need a way around it.” She shoots him a toothy, bratty smile, and he messes up her hair, earning a groan.

“Alright, enough of this talk, you’re making me tired.” He rinses his dishes, loads them into the dishwasher. “You wanna get into your feelings later, you let me know.”

“Same goes for you,” she calls as he heads down the hall. She cleans up her dishes too, walks to her room, sighing when she passes Hotch’s door. Saturday “She’s a masochist,” Garcia says the next morning, sipping a cup of coffee and looking out the open kitchen window, and Hotch has no idea what she’s talking about, but he has to find out.

He sighs when he sees, should have known that it would be Sophie, bright eyed and bushy tailed even after their late night, doing yoga in the sun on a patch of grass in front of the house. Her outfit is absolutely minuscule—a partially mesh sports bra, teeny tiny, high-waisted spandex shorts—and she’s getting lots of looks from the men on the beach passing by.

“Bitch,” JJ adds, stepping up beside them, sucking on the straw of an iced coffee. “How is she even functional right now?”

“She operates on a different wavelength than the rest of us,” he supplies, as that’s his only guess so far. He runs to stay fit for work and to relieve stress, sure, but he’s not waking up at 6 AM on vacation to do it for fun.

“I think that she feels inadequate sometimes, for being the smallest of us, and that she overcompensates by never letting herself rest. It’s also why she’s so proficient with firearms. If one of us got hurt because someone overpowered her, she wouldn’t let herself live it down.” That’s Reid, and he may have a little partner insight that the rest don’t, but his opinion is probably correct. Hotch also knows that she’s hard on herself, constantly training her mind and body so she won’t make mistakes; it’s probably something they should discuss more, now that he thinks of it.

“That’s deep,” Garcia says, looking over at Reid, and he nods, sips his coffee too.

“She’s very complex, while somehow also being the simplest person to talk to.”

“What are we lookin’ at?” Gideon asks as he sees the line of agents lined up at the window. When he glances out of it, he chuckles, shakes his head, and keeps walking. “Like the energizer bunny, that one. Makes all the rest of us look bad.”

She shifts into a position that makes it look like she’s sitting with her legs crisscrossed, which might not be difficult, except that she’s balanced on her head; Hotch can’t even marvel at the flexibility that takes, too focused on the effort she must be using to maintain the pose.

“God, what am I even looking at, here?” Morgan asks as he joins the group, protein shaker cup in hand. “And you all thought I was bad.”

“At least she’s not running. If she was running, I’d have to kill her,” JJ mumbles, and Garcia smiles.

“Oh she already ran, honey. Came back in to get the yoga blanket thingy. Said running in the sand is, and I quote, ‘such a fun challenge.’”

There are many sounds of disgust from the group, which seems to draw Prentiss out; she squeezes in between them, reaches out to take JJ’s coffee, sipping through the straw, and exhales.

“Yep, I am definitely gay.” She raps on the window, and Sophie turns her head toward them; she squints her eyes at the group, then tips over so that her feet touch the mat, rising to stand in a way that looks much more effortless than it has to be.

“What the hell are you doing, weirdos?”

“We’re not worthy!” Prentiss teases, mock-bowing in her direction and earning a laugh.

“All right, all right, I’m coming in. Freaking voyeurs,” she mumbles, folding up her blanket. “You too, Hotch?” she asks as she enters the house, walking past him, and all he can do is shrug.

“I was just admiring your form, that’s all.” She gives him a look, partially I doubt it and partially something like, I dare you, and he feels himself get a little hot under the collar.

If one look from her is all it takes, then he’s already in way over his head.

...Then comes the bikini.

It’s nothing outrageous, something simple and sporty enough that she plays volleyball with JJ and Morgan and a couple of other people on the beach, but it’s the least he’s ever seen her wear, so his mouth may water, a little bit.

And is it sad that he wishes she'd have asked him for help putting sunblock on her shoulders? Is it creepy? Regardless, she has Morgan rub it in, and then she does him, because—“as my mama says: just because you’re brown doesn't mean you can clown around.”

“Oh my god, I can already tell I will love your mom. I have to meet her.” She rubs the sunblock into his shoulders, earning playful banter from Garcia about running your hands all over my man, and yes, Hotch is irrationally jealous, and yes, he knows it’s stupid. “Anyone else need some?” She scans the group—Garcia is under an umbrella and clearly plans to stay there, JJ and Prentiss shared some cream that helps you tan faster, Gideon is already fast asleep beneath an umbrella of his own—and shakes the bottle at Reid. “Gonna take off your shirt, doc?”

“I’m gonna pass, but thanks,” he tells her, clearly a little self-conscious, and she just smiles easily.

“Okay, well let me know if you change your mind.” She turns to Hotch, then, smile still broad, runs her eyes up and down his t-shirt before meeting his gaze. “How about you, boss? Do you wanna take that off for me?” Her brow is quirked, her look again sending a flash of arousal through him, and he just shakes his head; he can’t say for certain that he wouldn’t do something very stupid with her hands on his body. “Alright. If you change your mind, my offer stands.” She turns away, and Morgan says something to her, too low for Hotch to hear; it earns him a playful shove.

They stay on the beach until late afternoon, swimming or reading, playing frisbee or sunbathing, and anything and everything in between. He takes a moment to check his work email when he thinks no one is paying attention, but soon feels a cool drop of water land on his arm; he looks behind him, and Sophie is peering over his shoulder with wet hair and a frown.

“Are you incapable of relaxing?” she asks, grabbing for his phone, and he pulls it out of her reach, so she’s forced to either put a hand on his shoulder for balance or fall. She reaches again, and they battle back and forth for it, not because he cares as much as he’s enjoying the attention. It’s childish, he knows. “Damn it, Hotch. I’m trying to… help you.” She has her arms on either side of his neck, trying to cut him off and get the phone out of his grasp, and her mouth is right at his ear when she says, “I’m going to get you to loosen up if it kills me.”

The comment is both very sweet and very tempting, and he catches her wrist, presses his phone into her palm. She disengages her arms from around his neck and sinks down into the sand next to him; she’s flushed from the little bit of exertion, and her eyes are soft when they peer into his.

“I just want you to have a good time and not worry about the BAU for once in your life,” she murmurs, pushing her hand through her wet hair. “Or you’re going to die young from stress and I’ll feel a little bad I didn’t stop it.”

“Just a little bad?” he teases, and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“I’ll feel really bad, so, just. Cut it out. Read your book. People watch. Do anything but work.” With a soft smile, she leans closer, hands him back his phone. “For me?” He looks into her eyes, wants to tell her he would do anything for her, but instead, he nods.

“Okay. For you.” Her returning smile is brilliant, and she rests a hand on his shoulder for a moment before using it to boost herself up to standing. She brushes sand off her butt, and he can’t be blamed for looking, he just can’t.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come swim?” she asks, and he blinks back into focus, shakes his head.

“Maybe later. I think I’m going to people watch,” he says, and if she is the person he chooses to watch, well. No one will be any the wiser.

“Sophie, oh my god.” She turns at the sound of her name, slipping the back onto her earring and staring at Emily with a confused look.

“What did I do?” she asks seriously. All she’s actually done since they came in from the beach was eat a grilled cheese, take a quick shower (daydreaming, just a little, about what it would have been like if Hotch let her rub sunscreen onto his shoulders), and get dressed, so there’s literally no way she’s earned the tone.

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen Hotch since he changed.” Her eyes glaze over as she imagines it—maybe he’s wearing a button-up shirt like last night, the sleeves rolled up, or maybe he opted for another thin, faded t-shirt like the one he wore to the beach…

“Uh, no, I haven’t. But what does that have to do with me?”

“You’ll see,” is all she says, grinning, and Sophie wonders for a moment if she’s actually not being that sneaky about her thing for him, and if everyone knows. Morgan’s inferences are bad enough.

She shakes the thought, because if the whole team did know about her crush, she would know about it. She’d never be able to live it down, and she would definitely know about it.

She finishes getting ready, sees what all the fuss is about when she enters the kitchen and is faced with a broad back with a blue polo stretched across it—the same shade of blue as the patterned dress she’s wearing.

She groans. They’re definitely gonna make a big deal about this.

“I say we make a break for it,” she says, and he turns at the sound of her voice, looks her up and down, and smiles crooked, gorgeous. “They’re going to make us take a picture, and I know how you hate pictures.”

“I do hate pictures, but maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll make it onto your dresser.” She takes a good, long look at his body—the polo is tight, hinting at his pecs, his stomach, and his arms look amazing—and can’t help but flirt a little.

“Are you just trying to get invited back into my bedroom? ‘Cause all you had to do was ask, Hotch.” His eyes get dark, smoldering, and then JJ and Garcia walk in, talking over each other and demanding photographic evidence.

She rolls her eyes lightly, and so does he, but he puts his hand on her back, pulls her close, and they smile for the camera. That night, they go for dinner, and drinks, but no dancing, and Hotch feels at a bit of a loss; it had been so nice to dance with Sophie, to hold her in his arms however briefly. He had kind of been hoping for more of the same.

She wears another lovely dress, light and gauzy, and blue—the same color as his shirt, which makes for a slight moment of hysteria from their coworkers—and he longs to put his hands on her waist, to see her smile, to smell her perfume.

He briefly wonders if he will ever get over wanting what he can’t have.

Hotch goes to the bar to grab a round of drinks when it’s his turn, and an attractive blonde woman about his age makes small talk, which escalates to some mild flirting; she smiles at him in a way that makes him think that, if he had been looking to spend the night with a woman, he wouldn’t have had to look very far. He’s not sure why that makes him uncomfortable.

The bartender is obviously swamped, and he’s thinking about giving up and going back to the table just to get away from the woman’s eyes, her voice, when warm hands wrap around his bicep.

“There you are, honey. I’m glad I found you.” Sophie wedges in between them, not sparing the woman a second glance, all eyes on him. “Drinks going to take a while?”

“Yeah, I think they’re understaffed. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” He wraps his arm around her back, pulling her close, and she touches his chest softly with her palm.

“No problem. You know I’d wait forever for you.” She smiles brightly up at him, and the woman mumbles something unkind, throws down a few bills, and walks away. Sophie laughs, but doesn’t put any distance between them. “It looked like you needed a save. I hope I didn’t misread the situation.”

“You absolutely did not misread,” he assures with a shake of his head. “She would have eaten me alive if you hadn’t come along.”

“It’s a good thing I’m here, then. To protect your virtue.” She runs both hands down his chest—keeping up appearances in case the woman is watching, he assumes—and it prompts him to lean closer to her.

“I’m glad you’re here for more than that reason,” he says, however foolishly, and she sighs softly, pulls back so she’s not in his easy grasp.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…” She walks away from him quickly, and he doesn’t reach for her arm, knows she doesn't like that, but he does follow her out to the balcony. The night is warm, with a cool breeze, and it blows her hair as she looks out at the water.

“I’m sorry I said that.” He puts his hands on the railing, and she looks over at him, curiously. “I say more than I should around you, and there’s no excuse.” She turns to face him fully, arms crossed, face closed off and hard to read.

“Did you mean it, though? Did you mean it when you kissed my head and told me to let someone into my life? Did you mean it when you said you want to be here for me, and you wiped away my tears? Did you mean it when you were watching me do yoga this morning, when you watched me play volleyball in a bikini?” He opens his mouth to speak, but can’t find the words to deny it, or to help solve this problem.

“Yes, I meant all of that, and I realize now that what I thought was harmless was not so harmless after all.”

“You realize that because you know I felt led on? Or because you were just having fun and you didn’t expect me to pay such close attention?”

“You felt led on? I…” He feels his face scrunch in confusion.

“You told me I was amazing, you held my face in your hands, you pretended to be my boyfriend at the pizza shop. You came upstairs with me on my birthday and you took off my shoes and you looked at me like you wanted to kiss me. And I showed you my family, and you looked at me like you wanted to kiss me. And we danced, closer than I danced with Reid, closer than I would dance with anyone else, and you looked at me like you wanted to kiss me. This morning, I felt your eyes on me; at the beach, I felt your eyes on me. I feel them all the time, and I thought it was wishful thinking, but now I know it’s you looking.” His mouth goes dry, and he pushes a hand through his hair, feels as if walls are crashing down around him.

“Sophie, I can’t apologize enough. I’ve been behaving inappropriately for a while, and this weekend I let my guard down, and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” He looks over at her, ready to see rage, or hurt, but all he sees is… hope.

“I’m not uncomfortable, Hotch. I just need you to tell me that you said and did all those things because you want me. Not because you thought I wanted to hear them, or because you felt some... I don’t know, little sister affection for me.”

“I didn’t say anything because I thought you wanted to hear it, and believe me, what I feel for you… It’s not little sister affection.” He looks into her eyes, apologetic. “I should have come to you when I realized my feelings were becoming inappropriate.”

“Hotch, I’m trying to tell you,” she says softly, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, “that it’s not inappropriate for you to want me, because I want you too.” His mind goes blank at that, the potential panic attack falling away and leaving him with just… what?

“You, what?”

“All of those things... I felt you getting closer to me, and I was getting closer to you. I was looking, too. And when you told me I should let someone in, when you told me that I should start dating again, I thought you were saying you wanted it to be us.” He takes a step toward her, wants to take her face in his hands again but resists, for the time being. “Is that what you were saying? Is that what you want?”

“I—yes. That’s what I want.” It’s all he wants, can’t think of a single thing in his life he’s wanted more, and the look on her face makes him think he might actually be able to have it.

“Then kiss me,” she murmurs, taking a step toward him. Her eyes are warm and clear, sparkling in the moonlight. “If you mean it.”

He slips his arm around her waist, caresses her cheek, and pulls her close for a deep, slow, passionate kiss. It’s everything he imagined, everything he’s been wanting, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulls him closer yet. She is soft against his body, beneath his hands, and they kiss for so long he forgets about the world around them, just sinks his fingers in her hair, breathes in the scent of sunscreen and coconut shampoo, relishes the feel of her soft lips against his. It’s absolute heaven.

“I haven’t been able to think of anything but kissing you all night,” she breathes when they break apart, wetting her lips, and her hands run over his chest again. He leans in for a soft, quick kiss, pushing her hair behind her ear, and smiles down at her.

“I don’t think I’ve thought of anything else for months,” he confides, touching her chin. She smiles brightly, just like he’d hoped she would, and she puts her hands on his arms, bites her bottom lip.

“Well, I’ve thought of a lot of things. Some had to do with these arms…” Her eyes rake over his chest and shoulders, and he feels himself heat under her gaze. “Most of them have to do with all of you, though.” He groans, pulls her closer with hands on her hips.

“If we weren’t here with the rest of the team…” Her eyes get wide, and she laughs, a short sound of surprise.

“Oh my god, I forgot. I well and truly forgot about the rest of them for a second.” He thrills at that, bends for another lengthy kiss, and her eyes are dark when he pulls back.  “How am I supposed to go the rest of the night pretending I don’t know how well you kiss?” she asks, chest heaving, and all he wants to do is kiss her, repeatedly, learn all the ways her body responds to it. “Oh I know: I’m going to get drunk and hope no one notices me staring at your mouth. Worked on my birthday.”

He grins at the thought of her, then, now, drunk and looking at him across the table, watching him, and presses his lips to hers softly. Now that he’s started, he can’t seem to get enough.

“Okay. I’ll stay sober in case you need me to carry you home.”

“Mmm, why do I love the sound of that so much?” she asks no one in particular, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. “I feel obligated to say we should get back in there; it’s only a matter of time until someone comes looking for us. But…” She trails off, brings a hand to his face and sighs, content. “I’m happy right here and I don’t want to leave this spot.”

“Me too.” He kisses her, and her fingers glide through his hair, tugging softly, making him moan. “Okay, we really better go in now, because I could lose track of everything if you keep doing that.” She smiles, like she likes the thought of making him lose his mind, and he can’t help but return the expression. “Do you want to go in first?”

“No, we can go in together. I got this, promise.” She takes his hand, presses her lips to it, and then drops it, and they head back to the table.

“Where have you two been?” Prentiss asks as they return, and Sophie smiles happily.

“Needed fresh air. Why, did you miss me?”

“Yes, but we also missed our drinks. Sent Reid for them when we realized you two had run off.” Sophie’s face falls a little, eyes a bit sad.

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault. I was upset about something and Hotch went outside with me, helped me talk through it. I’m okay now,” she adds with a brighter expression when it looks like they want to ask about it. It's not technically a lie, either. “So what are we talking about?”

“We’re talking about the craziest thing we’ve ever done,” Morgan says with a teasing grin. “Let me guess, yours is: returned a library book late.” She shoots him an unamused glare.

“Joke’s on you, I would never return a library book late.” The table erupts in laughter, and she sips at her now watered down gin and tonic. “But you’ve made your point, I’m boring. I’m sure you had a threesome with twins and JJ fought a bear in the woods of Pennsylvania and Emily followed The Cure on tour across the country.”

“I did not do that, but trust me, young Emily wishes she had,” Prentiss says with a grin and a sip of her drink. “Mine was going to a rave in Paris that was busted, running from the cops.”

“Okay I’m sorry, that’s way cooler than the Cure thing. What about you, JJ?”

“I played chicken a lot when I was a teenager. Like in Footloose,” she describes, laughing. “Probably should have died, but the dumb boys always got scared first and I won.”

“Chicken champion,” Morgan calls her, making her dissolve into laughter. “Mine was stealing a car, going on a joyride. Only time I’ve ever broken 100 miles per hour.”

“You’re all criminals, I get it now. No wonder you think I’m so boring,” Sophie teases. “You guys?” she asks Reid and Garcia. Garcia grins.

“I hacked the FBI, remember? Doesn’t get much crazier than that.”

“I went skydiving,” Reid says simply, and Sophie is surprised, to say the least. Hotch is too.

“Skydiving! Spencer Reid, you’re holding out on us. When was this?”

“When I turned 21, I wanted to do something special, so I just decided one day. I went by myself. It was terrifying.”

“Wow, I may never get over this. That is so cool.” She leans across the table, bumps her fist with his. When she leans back in her seat, she looks to Hotch with curious eyes. “Alright, I know you’ve got a story. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

“I haven’t done many crazy things,” he begins honestly. “I guess the craziest would be backpacking in Europe by myself, on a whim. I’d just graduated high school and was feeling… afraid of the future, I suppose. I was only gone two months, but I did feel different when I came back.”

“Okay, that’s crazy to me. I’ve definitely never had the guts.”

“I can totally see young Hotch backpacking through Europe,” Garcia adds, and he smiles.

“It was stupid, but I met a lot of interesting people. You really haven’t done anything crazy?” he asks Sophie, who has seemed a little reserved the last few minutes, so different from the girl on the balcony.

“Nope. No crimes, no drugs, no underage drinking or fights or spontaneous trips anywhere. I went to school, went to work, went home, and when I was done with school, I went to work and went home.” She twirls the straw in her glass for a moment, and then sits up with a smile. “Oh, wait. I have something. This may not seem that cool to you guys, but walking home one day in Chicago, I saw a flyer for a band that needed a singer, so I tried out. That was pretty spontaneous.”

“Did they like you?” Reid asks, and she nods excitedly.

“Yeah, actually. I ended up singing for them for about a year before I left Chicago.”

“Okay, you were in a band for a year and didn’t think you had any fun stories to share,” Prentiss clarifies. “That’s awesome.”

“We need to hear you sing,” Hotch tells her seriously, and she gets shy, blushes, adorable.

“Ah, no. Maybe back home—my friend owns a bar, and I sing there sometimes. Karaoke or open mic.”

“I learned two things about you tonight, Cortes: you sing, and you have a friend besides us.” Sophie smacks Morgan’s shoulder, making him laugh.

“Well I prefer quality over quantity—yourself excluded.” He feigns hurt, puts his hand over his heart. “And on that note, I need a couple shots. I’m not nearly as drunk as I want to be.” She stands, puts her hand on the back of Hotch’s chair. “Want to try again?” He does, if only to spend a few minutes with her away from the group, stands up and walks beside her to the bar.

“You don’t have to do crazy things to be interesting, you know,” he tells her as they lean companionably against the bar, waiting for their drinks. “I find you very interesting exactly the way you are.” She smiles, a tender, private thing.

“Thank you. I’m glad you do. I find you interesting, too. I want to know what makes you tick; I think I spend too much time trying to figure you out, actually. I’m surprised no one has noticed.”

“I’m simple. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“That will be a long conversation for another time, believe me.” She shifts closer, so their arms are pressed together, and it shouldn’t feel as good to him as it does, her warm skin against his. “I want to know everything there is to know about Aaron Hotchner.”

“And I want to tell you,” he assures her, wants to put his arm around her back, but knows their friends are watching them closely this time. He thinks maybe they’ve noticed more than she believes.

Their drinks are ready much faster this time, and when they return to the table she hands out shots to those who want them while he hands out other drinks to those who don’t. She takes two shots in succession, and he smiles to himself, thinking of her earlier plan.

“You’re crazy, I love Julia Roberts,” Prentiss says about an hour later, when those drinking to get drunk have already done so, and then some. “She’s America’s sweetheart, she’s so beautiful.”

“Okay but we’re talking your dream celebrity hook up,” Morgan clarifies. “You’re telling me Julia Roberts is your dream hook up?”

“Yes. She made me feel things in Pretty Woman, with those long legs in the tub?”

“Yes, the tub,” Sophie agrees, and when she gets some curious looks, she sighs. “It’s stupid to assume everyone is straight all the time, and no one ever asked. I swing all ways, as in, even though I don’t date and haven’t had sex with anyone but myself in far too long to admit to, I like to look at everybody.” She’s moved closer to him in the last hour, and her thigh presses purposefully up against his. “Some people more than others.”

“Oh, we know we’ve gotten Sophie drunk if she’s talking about her sex life,” JJ teases.

“I’m never shy about my sex life, it’s my love life I don’t tell you about, because it’s practically non-existent.”

“And whose fault is that? You’ve been hung up on someone we know nothing about for months. Make a move or move on.”

“I’m working on it. Bossy,” she mutters, presses her thigh against his again. He wants to grab it, pull her legs into his lap, but knows he can’t get away with it. “Hotch, tell her to leave me alone.”

“JJ, leave her alone,” he says just to make Sophie smile; she does, and JJ sticks her tongue out at her.

“Okay, boss’s pet.”

That shouldn’t send a thrill through him, but it does, affects Sophie, too, if the straightening of her spine is any indication. As quickly as it happened, she slumps against the table, chin in her hand. He wonders why, but then her other hand moves to his leg, and he thinks maybe she did it to provide some cover. Clever girl.

“I want to be home. Home home, my own private home, not a house I share with all of you,” she murmurs, and Reid frowns.

“Why? Aren’t you having fun?”

“I am having fun! I am. But it would be different fun. I’ll explain it when you’re older.” Hotch can’t help himself, chuckles at that, and Sophie looks over at him, smiles. “Are we calling it a night? If I get any drunker I’m going to get into trouble.” They share eye contact that probably lasts a beat too long, and he covers her hand with his under the table.

“It’s probably for the best. Do you need me to carry you?”

“No, I’m okay,” she says, standing, and as everyone else gathers their stuff, she stoops under the guise of fixing her shoe, presses a hand to his shoulder for support, and speaks into his ear. “But keep in mind that need and want are two very different things.”

She smirks playfully, and he is so enraptured by her, moves his eyes from her lips to her bare shoulder, strap fallen to the side, wants to kiss her there and slip it back into place; he refrains from the kiss but does hook it with his finger and settle it against her skin, earning a heated look, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

He exhales, thinks to himself how silly it is that his heart is racing from just a few looks, a quick comment, the brush of his hand over her shoulder, but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Heading back to the house is certainly more eventful than the previous night, as Morgan and Garcia giggle about something as she stumbles in her high heels, as JJ and Prentiss take Reid’s arms and link them with theirs for stability. Sophie walks steady, but slow, and Hotch hangs back with her, presses his hand against her lower back when no one is looking.

“I feel like I’m going to wake up in the morning and this will all have been a dream,” she whispers, glancing up at him; he smooths his palm up and down her back, eyes soft as he gazes down at her.

“It does feel like a dream, but nothing changes tomorrow, I promise.” He smiles softly, touches her face before pulling away altogether. “Except you might have a hangover.”

“No, I have foolproof methods. Lots of water before bed and a cup of ginger tea in the morning. I’ll share my methods with you, because I think you’re so cute,” she says with a smile.

“Lucky for me.”

He wants so badly to kiss her goodnight, but of course, they don’t get a chance, someone always hovering by the time they’re ready for bed. He does text her, though, after they go their separate ways.

AH: I’m really glad things happened the way they did tonight. Who knows how long we would have gone on staring silently at each other.

SC: Yeah, we’re pretty dumb for human behavior experts, aren’t we?

SC: I’m going to try to sneak you away tomorrow.

AH: I’ll be waiting. Goodnight.

SC: Goodnight. Sunday Sophie wakes up Sunday at 8:13 feeling like she could walk on air, she’s so happy. She kissed Hotch, Hotch kissed her, there was flirting and touching and it was all intentional and meaningful and magical… She gets a little carried away when she showers, reliving every moment, never so happy she agreed to come on this vacation despite her initial protests that it was too spontaneous.

She knows she needs to liven up a little, do more spontaneous things like go to the beach and kiss her boss and see Europe, go skydiving.

Maybe not the skydiving, but the beach and the boss she can definitely handle. Europe will probably have to wait.

She throws on a swimsuit with a cropped tank top and denim shorts over it and makes for the kitchen to get a cup of tea, smiles when she sees Emily and Garcia there. “Hi ladies. How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead, and now I feel dead,” Garcia grumbles. Emily nods over her cup of coffee.

“I feel like a truck ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again.” Sophie laughs, walks over to the table and sets down her box of tea.

“Have a cup. Cures any ailment, hangovers included, I promise.” Emily glances up, looking suspicious.

“Why are you so chipper? Why aren’t you dead like we are?” She tries not to grin, to be too obvious, but she hasn't been this excited about something in a long time, so it’s hard.

“Mind over matter. Gotta train those brains.” She adds a bit of honey to her tea, stirs it slowly. “It’s a gorgeous day, we have until late afternoon before we need to head back home, we’re having fun. I’m happy.”

“That’s all great stuff, but I can’t focus on it until my eyeballs stop punishing me,” Garcia groans, grabbing the box of tea and heading for the kettle. “Did you meet somebody or something? This is just extreme happiness, even from you. And it’s me who’s saying that.”

“She was with us all night. Well, she wasn’t, but she was with Hotch, so she may as well have been. She didn’t meet anyone.” Oh sweet, brilliant, clueless Emily, Sophie thinks, sitting across from her. She loves when her friends’ brains aren’t firing on all cylinders so she can feel like she has some secrets from them, instead of feeling so exposed all the time.

“Are we making breakfast or going for breakfast? Breakfast will help you guys feel better.”

“Going for breakfast,” Morgan says when he strides into the kitchen behind her. “No yoga this morning? I guess you’re human after all,” he says with a wink, and she just sips her tea because even his teasing isn’t enough to dampen her good mood.

“Takes one to know one. We both have lazy days, we both have feelings—I think we’re getting soft.”

“I’m not,” he says with a grin, lifting his shirt a little just to make Garcia swoon, she’s pretty sure—and it works. “Doesn’t look like you are either, in your little crop top. Trying to impress someone?”

“No, just letting my tummy out, as we all should on vacation. It’s more fun that way.” She drains the rest of her tea and rinses the cup in the sink. “Anyone need a nudge? I’m starving.”

“Haven’t seen JJ or Hotch yet, if you want to check on them,” Emily tells her, and she does grin at that.

“You got it! Hotch and JJ,” she repeats to herself, and she skips JJ’s room to rap on Hotch’s door. He opens it after a moment, looking hotter than should be allowed in a dark blue polo; his eyes roam slowly over her body, which makes her shiver. “Why, good morning, handsome,” she says, low, and he pulls her into his room, shuts the door, and kisses her deeply.

She moans softly in surprise, then weaves her fingers into his hair, stepping backward so she is pressed between the door and his body, which is the stuff of fantasies. His hands feel hot on her waist, his mouth harder than last night, more insistent; she pants for breath when the kiss breaks, runs her hands over his shoulders, pulls him close. “So glad I offered to check on you,” she murmurs, and he smiles softly, presses his mouth to hers again.

“So am I. You look…” He looks her over again, breasts, stomach, legs, back up to her face, wets his lips. “Beautiful doesn’t cover it.”

“Well I’ll take it anyway.” She brings his mouth down to hers for another soft kiss. “I have to check on JJ, but reserve your approval and hopefully we can get a little alone time today.”

“Just one more kiss,” he bargains, smoothing his palm over her throat, and she practically salivates at his touch, would give him anything he asked for. This time it’s a kiss, which is easy enough, and she stretches up on her toes, takes his face in her hands and plants one on him with a soft smack. They both smile. “See you soon.”

“See you soon.” Peeking out into the empty hall, she slips out the door, no one any the wiser, and heads to JJ’s room, pounding on the door with none of the regard she had for Hotch. “Are you up? We’re hungry, come on!” It takes a minute, but JJ pops her head out, hair a mess, eyes tired.

“Make me a coffee. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

“Sure, okay, five minutes though. Hey, do you want my ginger tea? Proven hangover cure, the other girls had some.” She narrows her eyes.

“Tea for now, coffee for the road. Please.” She slams the door, and Sophie laughs to herself, heads to the kitchen, and gets to work. Breakfast is a fun occasion in that everyone leaves the restaurant at least five times happier than when they arrived. Hotch just shakes his head and laughs, glad that his days of drinking to get drunk are over. The team looks rough.

The beach is on the agenda again, and most everyone opts for sunbathing at first, because they’re too full and tired to do anything else. Sophie and Morgan, the two most lively of the bunch, plan to head straight for the water—it’s an activity in itself to watch her strip out of her clothes, baring a little strapless bikini underneath.

Sophie offers to help Morgan with his sunscreen, but Garcia makes a noise of complaint. “Uh uh, my turn,” she says, squeezing some into her palm and handing back the tube. Sophie sighs, looks at JJ like she’s going to ask for help, but Morgan nods in his direction.

“Have Hotch help,” he tells her, and she narrows her eyes at him, gets a raised eyebrow in return. He makes a note to ask what that’s all about, and she looks a little like a deer in the headlights, but she steps over to him because it would be more awkward if she didn't, now.

“You know who to blame for this,” she mutters as she kneels down next to him, hands back the tube of sunblock, and she lifts her hair so he has access to her neck. He has to hold himself back from pressing his lips there, settles for imagining what she’d sound like if he did.

“Or who to thank, depending on how you look at it,” he counters as he rubs the lotion on. He feels the tension in her shoulders slip away as he works it in, the white cream melting into her smooth, brown skin. It’s like her whole body softens at his touch, and he makes a mental note to rub her shoulders often, when he gets the chance, could stand to see her look a little less tense most days. “At least I get to be close to you.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, humming as his hands move down her back. “I’m happy to be close to you too, just don’t need my coworkers watching me get rubbed down by the guy I like.”

“I do like the sound of that.” He presses his fingers against her neck, behind her ears, and she practically purrs at his touch, head tipping to the side. He’d like to spend more time there, it’s clear she enjoys it, but he knows he can’t milk it for too long. He slides his hands away, wipes them on his towel. “All set. My hands are free when you need to reapply.” She turns to face him, looks soft and relaxed and gorgeous, and shoots him a tender smile.

“Thanks. I’m still working on a plan for us, so I’ll be back soon.” She stands, throws the sunscreen at Morgan, and they chase each other into the water.

“Hey, will someone come up to the house with me?” Sophie asks after a while, and pretty much everyone is half asleep—either napping, in a food coma, or something in between—so it’s easy for him to volunteer himself, for them to slip away together. When they’re far enough away from the team’s line of sight, he scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder, earning laughter so hard it leaves her breathless. They make it inside the house, and he sets her down, her cheeks red and smile bright. “I cannot believe you did that,” she says, grabbing his shirt in her hands, and she pulls him close for a kiss that they laugh through, her hands shifting to come up around his neck.

“You were going too slow, I was getting impatient,” he teases, and she kisses him deeper, less playful, more passionate. He wraps his arms around her body, pulls her close, and they fumble toward the living room, collapse into a heap on the couch. They laugh, straighten out so they’re sitting somewhat normally, though very close.

“You’re so good at that, I think I dreamed about it.” She brushes gentle fingers through his hair, puts her legs in his lap just like he thought of doing at the bar, and kisses him softly a couple of times. “This isn’t just because we’re on vacation, right? I mean, tomorrow, when we wake up in our own beds, we’re not just going to pretend none of this happened?” He takes her hand, brings it to his lips, holds it.

“I couldn’t look at you and pretend none of this happened. Never.” He kisses her hand again, and she shifts so that she’s sitting up on her knees, so they can be closer, kiss better, he has to assume. One hand rests against his chest and the other loops around his neck, and they kiss long, hot, deep, so he has to pull back for breath. “Sophie,” he sighs when they separate, his hand gentle on her face. “I want you to know, I’ve never done this, or even thought about doing this with anyone from work. Not before you.”

“Neither have I. It’s just… you.” She leans in for a softer, sweeter kiss. “What do we do now? I guess, just to clarify: you want to date me, right? You don’t just want sex—I want to be sure we’re on the same page.” He puts his hands on her waist, like he’s holding her steady, looks into her eyes.

“I don’t just want sex. I want to spend time with you outside of the office. I want to take you on dates. I want to learn everything there is to know about you. I want to kiss you…” His eyes drift to her lips, and she leans up, presses them softly to his a couple of times.

“So we’ll need to tell Strauss? Gideon? The team?"

“I’ll tell Strauss, and she’ll change your reporting structure so that you report to Gideon, formally. It won’t change anything in the field, but he will have to be in charge of your performance reviews, psych evals, and future promotions so there’s no conflict of interest.”

“That’s good. I don’t want anyone to think I’ll be treated any differently.” He takes her face in his hands, kisses her slow, and she pulls back periodically to speak. “Not that... I think the team would, but... that’s good.” His lips move down the column of her throat, and she tilts her head, inviting more; her voice gets light and breathy. “Mmm, Hotch.”

He pulls back a little, sure he’s wearing a grimace; something about that, as good as it sounds, just does not rub him the right way.

“I think it might be better if you call me Aaron when we’re not working. It might help, you know, to have a little separation?” She nods, bites at her lip, and leans in for another kiss.

“Yes, that sounds good. I want to call you by your first name, but no one ever does, so I was waiting on you to tell me it was okay.” She brushes the pads of her fingers over his lips, his chin. “Kiss me, Aaron.”

He grins at that, puts his arm behind her and tips them both over so she’s laying under him, soft, sun-kissed, beautiful. She smiles, and he leans in, kisses her throat some more. “You smell so good, always like the beach, but especially now.” He’s pretty much destined to have a Pavlovian response to the smell of coconut and sunscreen, he thinks, but he doesn’t mind at all.

“If only you would take off your shirt and come swimming with us,” she teases, holding tightly to his shoulders, “I could make you smell all beachy too.” She catches his mouth in a kiss, grins against his lips. “Plus it would be nice to ogle you like you’ve been ogling me.” He scoffs, pulling a face.

“I haven’t been ogling you, I’ve been admiring you. There’s a difference.”

“Well in that case, let me admire you,” she coos in his ear, tongue curling over the lobe, and he kisses her deeply.

They are completely lost in each other when someone clears their throat above them, and they freeze; Sophie covers her eyes like it’s not happening if she doesn’t look, but Hotch is resigned to his fate, glances up and sees Gideon not looking very surprised. He doesn’t seem to have an opinion at all, actually, or at least his face doesn’t.

He sits up, pulling her with him, but she still can't look Gideon in the eye. Gideon, for what it’s worth, just nods. “I guess we’ll be going over some things in my office tomorrow,” he says, neutral, and Hotch nods.

“Yes. I’ll—I’ll get with Strauss in the morning.”

“Okay,” is all he says, and he heads down the hall to his room. Sophie groans.

“Okay, so we’ve determined we can’t be sneaky to save our lives.” She looks thoroughly embarrassed, but he just chuckles and pulls her closer, wraps his arms around her in an embrace.

“No, I guess we can’t. You’re too distracting.” She turns back to look at him, nose scrunched adorably.

“I’m too distracting? Compared to you, all on top of me, touching me with those hands?”

“They’re the only hands I’ve got,” he jokes, and she smiles indulgently, like she thinks he’s an idiot but likes him anyway. “We should probably head back anyway. I think we pressed our luck enough for today.” She grins at that, and he feels instantly like he should regret something he said. “What?”

“I’ll go quietly if you come swimming.” She adopts that puppy dog look he’s helpless against, presses her lips to his. “Please. It will be fun.” He sighs like he’s put out, but can’t resist smiling when she breaks into a grin of her own. “Yes! Okay, take off your shirt.”

“Now?” he asks with a laugh. “If we come back from the house and I’m half naked, eyebrows will be raised.”

“Just for a minute,” she explains, tugging at his collar. “I need to admire you before we’re out there so I don’t drool in front of them and embarrass myself.”

“You’re dangerous, you know that,” he says, pulling his polo over his head. “Those eyes could make a man do anything.”

“Well unfortunately for you, you’re the only man I plan to use them on.” She’s smiling, but her expression quickly fades to something more serious, and she flicks her eyes to his, then down his body, back up.

She opens her mouth to speak, decides against it, and leaps at him; he barely gets his arms up in time to catch her, and they almost go crashing back onto the sofa.

“God, you look so good,” she mumbles against his lips, hands in his hair. “I knew you’d be hot under all those suits, and then we got here and you’ve dressed more casually and it’s been just… the best.” She pulls back, runs her hands over all the bare skin she can reach, smiles broadly. “Can’t believe I get to touch you like this.” Slowly, he sweeps his palms over her body, brings her to him for a kiss.

“The feeling is so very mutual.” After another couple of kisses, she jumps out of his arms, hands back his shirt, though it’s clear she doesn’t want to.

“Glad we got that out of the way; I don’t know how the group would have reacted to me tackling you on the beach.”

“With incredulity, I’m sure. I don’t think I exactly fit what people would perceive to be your type.” She rolls her eyes, and they head out the door.

“What people perceive to be my type has nothing to do with me, or you.” She loops her hand loosely around his arm as they walk down to the beach. “And I don’t have a type, so we’re good.” As they get closer to the team, they move farther apart, and he already misses the feel of her skin.

“There you guys are,” JJ says when they approach, holding her hand over her eyes to shield from the sun. “Gideon went back to the house for a while, I’m sure you saw him.”

“We sure did see him,” Sophie says, dropping down onto her towel. “Are you guys alive yet? We’re gonna go swimming.” She scans the group, which is missing a few members. “Where are Morgan and Garcia?”

“Taking a walk,” Prentiss says with a suggestive tone. Hotch sighs, knows that soon enough the suggestive tone will be used at their expense. He wonders if Sophie thought that through, how invasive their friends can actually be. “They’ll be back by lunch, and then I guess it’s back to boring Quantico.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re swimming. Come on.” She stands up, walks backward toward the water with a smile. “Come on, Hotch, you promised.” Reid looks over at him with a curious expression, but he just shrugs and pulls off his shirt.

“I did promise.”

He’s not mad he did, either, because for a while it’s just the two of them, floating companionably in the luxuriously warm water, chatting about nothing, and she’s incredibly gorgeous with wet hair and a smile.

JJ and Prentiss join them eventually, and then there’s splashing, which is less enjoyable, but it’s clear Sophie is happy he agreed to swim, so he can’t find it in himself to be too irritated. They gather back at the house for a quick lunch, and they pack their stuff, load up the cars—this time they are split guys and girls, at JJ’s request.

“Thanks, Gideon, for the house, and Garcia, for the plan,” Prentiss says before they leave. “This was a great idea. Much needed.”

“Best weekend ever,” Sophie agrees, and she smiles softly when he catches her eye.

“That was awesome,” JJ says when they’re on the road. She looks back at Garcia with a grin. “So tell us, did you hook up with Morgan? Is Morcia a thing now?”

“I didn’t hook up with him, but…” She grins, and Sophie finds it infectious. “We talked, and I think we’re going on a date this week, barring any traveling you guys might have to do.”

“Yay for a date,” Sophie says, pulling her into a one armed hug. The women in the front shout their happiness a bit louder. “I’m glad, seriously. You guys are too cute not to be together if you want to be.”

“Thanks, I’m just worried about the whole ‘working together’ thing.” She looks over with a frown. “What if it’s awkward? What if I say something weird?”

“You already answer his phone calls with ‘talk dirty to me’—work phone calls. I don’t think you have to worry about it being awkward,” Prentiss says, looking into the back seat. “You two have chemistry, and he’s head over heels for you.”

“And hot,” JJ says from the driver's seat. “You don’t let a guy that hot go because of a little awkward. You hold on for dear life.” They all laugh, and even Garcia seems happier after the short conversation. She segues into another topic, which makes Sophie feel a little awkward.

“Speaking of hot: Hotch took off his shirt, and I liked what I saw,” Garcia says with a playful grin.

“I know, right?” Prentiss says, glancing back again. “Who knew he’d be so buff under his sad fed suits.” I knew, I knew! Sophie thinks, but she knows she can’t say it without spilling the beans about everything that happened over the weekend, so she just hums in agreement.

“We can thank Sophie for getting him out of his shell this weekend,” JJ adds, looks back at her through the rear view mirror. “First she got him dancing, then swimming… I sense that Reid has competition for BFF.”

“Yep, me and Hotch, best buds,” she says, leaning against the window. Garcia seems to find something in her tone, if the look on her face is any consideration, but says nothing. “I’m sad Reid didn’t play on the beach though. He actually is my best bud, but he’s a tough nut to crack.”

The conversation gets lighter from there, a little more talk about Morgan and Garcia, how good breakfast was, how they’re never drinking again. When Sophie gets a text message, she’s a little too excited to answer it, almost throws her phone across the car when she fumbles it.

AH: Can I call you tonight? I realized we didn’t talk about everything you had questions about. I got distracted.

SC: No worries. I got distracted too.

SC: I’ll let you know when I’m home.

She is just unpacking her suitcase and contemplating what to have for dinner when her phone rings, and she grins. He didn’t even wait for her text, which is cute, and she tries to simmer down so she doesn’t sound like a complete weirdo when she answers.

She picks up her phone, and it’s not Aaron’s name she sees, but JJ’s.

“You don’t know how sorry I am to tell you this, but we have a case.” She sighs down the line. “Los Angeles. It’s bad, or I’d say it can wait until morning.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s your job. And we knew the vacation couldn’t last forever.” She drops her suitcase on the floor and replaces it with her go bag, stuffs it full of durable clothes. “I’ll see you in half an hour, JJ, thanks.”

“See you then.”

Sophie locks her phone and tosses it on the bed, does her best to get into a BAU state of mind.

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

Valentine’s Day Challenge [11/14]

Three days left 💚.

Warnings: None

Incarnation: Bayverse

Extra Info: Day 11 out of 14. None of the prompts/scenarios are related

Posting: 3:30 PM Each Day

Prompt: The First Time They Dance with Their S/O

Leo- “If I Could Fly” by One Direction

You had a long, stressful day at work and were just done

The moment you left your office, you texted Leo to meet you down the block

(mostly so he could have time to get there)

When you got there, you went into the alleyway and needed to wait only a moment before he peeked out of the manhole cover

You smiled as he emerged

You were relieved to see him

“Hi, Love. Long day?”

“You don’t even know,” you chuckled dryly

He took you into his arms and lifted you to the rooftops

He placed you back down but continued to hold you to his plastron

Honestly?

His hugs were therapeutic

What you didn’t see was getting out his phone

A moment later, a song started playing quietly from his speaker

He started rocking with you slowly as he sang softly

“If I could fly, I'd be comin' right back home to you. I think I might give up everything, just ask me to. Pay attention, I hope that you listen ‘cause I let my guard down. Right now I'm completely defenseless…”

You continued to dance slowly, and your singing voice replaced his when the chorus came along

“For your eyes only, I'll show you my heart; for when you're lonely and forget who you are. I'm missing half of me when we're apart. Now you know me, for your eyes only…”

He joined you for the last line of the chorus

“For your eyes only.”

The two of you remained quiet as the song continued

You continued to slow dance around the rooftop

Once the song ended, you just giggled

“What?” he asked you

“I don’t know… You’re just a dork.”

“But I’m your dork, right?”

You smile

“Right.”

You kiss him as the sun starts to set over the city

Raph- “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran

You and he were at the Lair

He wasn’t feeling well, so he skipped out of the patrol

(but he was too prideful to admit he was sick, so you took the bullet for him. he said he wanted to take care of you)

So, you were the only one that saw him become a literal lovebug

He became so soft in everything he said and did

You loved how adorable he was

You had decided to play some soft music while you made a pot of tea for you two to share

While making said tea, he came up behind you and wrapped his large arms around your shoulders and upper body

“What are you doing? You should be in bed.”

“I don’t care. I want to be with you, Y/n.”

You just smiled

As a new song started, he started rocking along to the music, you still in his arms

He sang along to the lyrics as quiet as a mouse

“I found a love for me. Oh, darling, just dive right in. Follow my lead. Well, I found someone, beautiful and sweet. Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me… We were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was. I will not give you up this time. Darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I know. And in your eyes, you're holding mine…”

You turned around and faced him, wrapping your arms around his torso

You continued singing along

“Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms. Barefoot on the grass and listening to our favorite song. When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath- but you heard it. Darling, you look perfect tonight…”

You two stayed like that, ignoring the tea kettle, even as it screamed past its boiling point

You just wanted to be in his arms

Donnie- “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong

You were on the rooftop of your apartment, watching the city go by below

You were stressed from work and were considering quitting

Your boss wouldn’t do anything about your co-workers practically bullying you, leaving you close to tears after every shift

You were the youngest on staff since you were still a teenager

Everyone else was over the age of 30

Donnie arrived after a while and immediately sense something was off

“Hey, Y/n. Why the long face?” he asked, trying to make you smile

You huffed and shrugged

Donnie thought for a moment

Then, he offered you his hand

“What?”

“Stand up with me. I want to show you something.”

You hesitantly grabbed his hand and he pulled you to your feet

Without skipping a beat, he pulled you to his plastron and wrapped his arms around you

“Work again?”

You nod against his plastron

“You should leave, Y/n. You’re essentially hired at that other job.”

“I know, but-”

He gently hushed you

He started waltzing lazily around the rooftop, singing without a backing track

“I see trees so green, red roses too; I see them bloom for me and you. And I think to myself, ‘What a wonderful world?’ I see skies so blue and clouds so white. The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night. And I think to myself, ‘What a wonderful world?’”

He continued singing to you as he led you around the rooftop

Soon, you were smiling and singing along with him

After you two finished the song, you stopped dancing and just remained in each other’s arms

Mikey- “DJ Got Us Fallin’ In Love” by Usher (ft. Pitbull)

You had just showered and were into your pajamas, which was merely a large t-shirt and underwear

You still had music playing and were lip-syncing around your apartment

You were like Tom Cruise in “Risky Business”

(you actually did just listen to “Old Time Rock n Roll…”)

You were also expecting Mikey, but you didn’t care if he saw you 

He came to your apartment just after sunset

He sat in the window for a while, watching you have fun dancing

Only when he knew a song was nearing its end was when he knocked

You skipped over to the window and let him in just as the song changed

“Oh, I love this one!” he said

He grabbed your arms and started twirling you around

“So we back in the club with our bodies rockin' from side to side, side to side. Thank God the week is done. I feel like a zombie comin' back to life- back to life. Hands up, and suddenly we all got our hands up. No control of my body. Ain’t I seen you before? I think I remember those eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes. Eyes, eyes, eyes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and then sing along with him

“Cause baby tonight, the DJ got us fallin’ in love again. Yeah, baby tonight, Dthe J got us fallin' in love again. So dance, dance, like it's the last, last night of your life, life. Gon’ get you right, ‘cause baby tonight, the DJ got us fallin' in love again.”

You two repeated the song twice more

By the end of the third repetition, you both collapsed onto the couch

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggle

“You started the song,” he said

“And? You’re the one who started dancing.”

“Can’t deny that- the vibes were too strong!”

The two of you just laughed for the rest of the night until you fell asleep in his arms

[ofstarsandvibranium]

omg sis since you’re doing Chubby!Bucky requests, pls omggg imagine if Dot came back, and trying to be apart of Becca’s life but she refuses cause she sees reader as her mom, and Dot is hella pissed, also, she’s like pissed Bucky moved on married and has a baby. Like literally fuck Dot, sis! ps I miss this STORY!

(Set in the SACS universe)

You’re in the kitchen standing beside Bucky at the stove. Both of you are working on dinner while Becca is in the living room working on homework.

The both of you hear the doorbell ring as right as you both take a step away from the stove, you hear a Becca holler, “I got it!” The now sixteen year old walks over to the door and peers through the peephole. The person she sees on the other side makes her gasp and immediately pull the door open.

There stood a woman about five foot seven with brown hair and green eyes. Becca steps back, trying to gather the sight of the woman, “Mom?”

“Rebecca?” The woman asks in surprise, “Wow. You’re-You’re so big now.”

“Becca, who is it?” Bucky asks as he heads to the door. As soon as he sees the woman, he stops, “Dot?”

He could see the hesitance in her eyes, “Hi, Bucky,” she murmurs and gives a shy smile.

“What’re you doing here?” He asks his ex-wife aka the woman he hasn’t seen since the divorce had been finalized and he’d been given full custody of Becca.

“I-I don’t know to be honest. You and Rebecca have been on my mind a lot lately and I just-I don’t know-wanted to check in?”

Becca scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, “Why? You suddenly care about us now?”

“I’ve always cared about you, Rebecca-”

“Becca.”

“What?”

“I go by Becca and how dare you think you could just waltz in here and expect us to welcome you with open arms! You left us, remember?!” Becca shouts and Bucky pulls her back.

“Bec, hey, easy.”

“No, dad! I won’t be easy on her because she-”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” you ask as you waddle over to the three of them, hand on your stomach. 

Dot eyes you then the ring on your finger as well as your large round stomach. She scoffs, “You got married again? And got her pregnant? So much for me being the love of your life, James,” she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Becca glares at the woman who birthed her, “Fuck you, Dolores!”

“Becca!” You and Bucky shout.

“Fuck you for coming here and thinking we’d be happy to see you! Fuck you for leaving me and dad because being a wife and mother wasn’t cutting it for you anymore! Fuck you for thinking that you still meant something to me and dad after you ABANDONED us! You may have given birth to me, but Y/N has been more of a mother to me than you have ever been! SHE’S my mom! SHE’S the love of dad’s life! NOT. YOU. 

“You honestly thought we’d be happy to see you? You honestly thought that he wouldn’t have moved on after all these years? Well jokes on you, Dolores! We’re SOOOOO much happier without you!”

Becca doesn’t realize that she’s crying until you’re beside her, thumbing away her tears, “Bec, let’s go to the kitchen and let them talk okay?”

Becca sniffled, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie, “Fine,” she mumbles, shooting one last glare at her birth mother before you escort her to the kitchen.

Bucky sighs, running a hand over his salt and pepper cropped hair, “Dot, what’re you doing here?”

Dot snorts, “I have birth to her and this is the welcome I get?”

“Can you blame her? Like Becca said, Dot, you left us. You didn’t want to be a family anymore.”

“Well what if I do now? I get it, okay? I messed up, but Bucky, that’s our girl-”

“No, she’s MY girl. You may have birthed her and share some DNA with her, but for the majority of the sixteen years she’s been alive, I’VE raised her. Not you.”

______

Meanwhile, you and Becca are sitting at the kitchen table. She’s crying into your shoulder and your hand is rubbing soft circles on her back, “Ssshhh. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“I hate her, mom. I hate her so much.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“Why now? After all these years, why does she have to come back now? We’re happy. We’re a family again and she suddenly decides to come back and welcome her with open arms?”

She pulls back and you wipe more of her tears away. Her blue eyes that match her father’s are red and watery and it breaks your heart, “Becca, I honestly don’t know what to say. I’ve never been in this situation before, but I know you’re hurt. That woman did quite the number on you and your father. It seems like she wants to make amends.”

“I don’t want to make amends with her. I don’t want her in my life. She’s not my mom, you are.”

“I know. But we’ll see what else she says to your dad and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles and lets out a shaky breath, “Thanks. I love you, mom.”

“Love you too, Becca.”

You both hear the door close and moments later Bucky walks into the kitchen looking completely drained, “Well that was...a lot.”

Becca snorted, “No kidding.”

“What else did she say?” you asked, moving from your spot and leading Bucky to occupy the seat you were just in. You stand behind him, massaging his shoulders because you know he tends to get really tense in stressful situations. 

“She wants to be in your life, Becca. I told her that was up to you and she said if you refuse, then she might take it up to court. Might fight for custody of you.”

Beeca then groans, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Hey, language,” Bucky says with a stern voice, “Bec, I know this isn’t...ideal and Lord knows we’re both tired of appearing in court. So, maybe just, think about it?”

In a typical teenager fashion, Rebecca Barnes rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest as she mumbled, “Fine.”

“Okay. Go ahead and finish your homework.” the chair screeches against the wooden floor and Becca heads back to the living room to continue her homework. 

You lean down and peck Bucky’s cheek, “You okay?”

Bucky takes your hand and brings you around so you could sit on his lap, “Yeah, sugar, I’m fine. How are you though? You okay?”

You nod, “I’m doing fine considering that your beastly ex-wife just showed up on our doorstep like half an hour ago. Other than that, I’m fine.”

“It’s only Tuesday and I already want this week to end,” he murmurs before nuzzling his stubbly face into your neck causing you to giggle.

“I know, I know. But come on, Sarge. We gotta finish dinner. Your kid is starving and I’m not talking about Becca.”

He hums, standing up when you offer your hand to him, “Alright. Alright. But one more thing?” he pulls you in for a soft, but passionate kiss, “Thank you.”

“For?” you ask with a playful smile.

“For everything. For loving me. For loving Becca. For opening our hearts up to love again. For being an amazing mother to our daughter. For being my wife and mother of my two children. For being...perfect.”

“You’re welcome, Buck.” you smile wide and Bucky melts.

“After all these years and you still make my heart skip a beat, sugar.”

You giggle when you both head back to the stove to continue cooking, “Back at ya, Sarge.”

[otome-imagines]

𝔒𝔟𝔢𝔶 𝔐𝔢! ℑ𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔢

I vibe so hard with this, babe

Also, I’m sorry for how much shorter some of them are compared to others

Asmodeus

He made the fatal error of telling you about the forest surrounding the castle

With his eyes focused on the polish that he was lightly coating on your nails, he absent mindedly talked about how there’s weird will o wisp like entities that very much enjoy weaving through the trees, making those who follow them get completely lost, and eventually, parish in the woods

And what did you do? You f u c k i n g followed one

A search party had to be dispatched, and it took nearly three and a half hours for them to find you

Asmo was incredibly salty, you’re going to give him stress wrinkles >:/

Beelzebub

He doesn’t necessarily encourage it

But he also doesn’t necessarily discourage it

Sometimes you get into a spot of trouble for doing dumb shit in class and going against what the professor tells you to do

But he also gets in trouble for eating in class, so hey, what can you do?

Belphagor

He’s almost never in the immediate area when you do dumb shit

On much more than one occasion, however, he’s been witness to the aftermath

One time he awoke to Lucifer arguing with you because you got kicked the fuck out of a Hell IKEA

Honestly? He threatens to put you on a leash

He’s the avatar of going ni night, he can’t deal with this

Leviathan

Look, my man is just trying to stay in his room and not speak to anyone else other than you like the little hermit he is

It’s very hard to do, however, when Lucifer has to keep yelling at him to take you away from his office

To be fair, though, Lucifer did tell you specifically not to go in there

Anyway, Leviathan does truly care for you, just p l e a s e cool

Even just a little

Lucifer

He noticed how dedicated to your studies you were and admired that, after all, almost none of his brothers are like that

Your maturity, too, is a breath of fresh air

And then you found out about the secret passages throughout the castle

Even after he told you specifically not to go look for them, you did

At one point, you casually waltzed through the one that leaded to the living room, where nearly all off the brothers were sitting

Honestly, it seems like you prefer them over the actual hallways

He keeps a very close eye on you whenever he can

Mammon

Both Lord Diavolo and Lucifer have made grave errors of judgment

Diavolo, bringing a disaster into the Devildom

Lucifer, pairing said disaster with another one

You two are deadass t e r r i b l e together

Once you two were at a casino and he used you specifically to distract his blackjack opponent, causing Mammon to win the all of the chips on the table

You’re partners in crime, and Lucifer greatly regrets his decision

Satan

He is s t r u g g l i n g, okay?

One day he made the mistake of telling you that his spell books were filled with powerful and dangerous spells so you shouldn’t touch them

And then you almost immediately opened one of them

He tried putting them up, but it seemed like you took it as a challenge to find them

Due to that fact, he’s stopped hiding his spell books all together, opting to  just set them on his desk

[excitedlysuffering]

Neji Headcanons Collection

Requested from my wattpad account

For everyone who has requested, I’m slowly getting through them, but I’ve been busy and exhausted lately so it’s taking longer than I wanted it to, I’m sorry!

What He Looks For In An S/O~

• Neji is a pretty stoic, introverted guy, so he’d need someone who was more on the introverted side as well. However, he would love an S/O who could bring him out of his shell a little

• He definitely seems like someone who would prefer to date a fellow shinobi so he didn’t have to worry about them and since they most likely aren’t apart of the Hyuga clan, them being a ninja would help his clan be a little more approving

• He needs a PATIENT S/O

• Neji is new to relationships and someone who understands that and wouldn’t rush him would be ideal

• Although Naruto changed Neji for the best, he can still be a little insensitive sometimes, so a partner who has a thick skin is important

• Neji hates small talk with a passion, so he would look for someone who could hold intellectual conversations or who didn’t mind silence

• As an introvert, Neji is something of a homebody, but make no mistake; this boy is always training so you’d best be ready for rigorous training being a regular past time

• COMMUNICATION is key in a relationship with him

• As smart as Neji is, he does not have the aptitude or patience to deal with mixed signals, so just talk to him, please

Relationship With Neji Stuff~

• Neji isn’t clingy by any means, but you’re his girlfriend and he expects to see you often, and will easily become concerned or upset if his partner starts to seem distant

• Trust is the most important thing to him, if he’s dating you he clearly trusts you A LOT, and it will upset him if he notices you don’t trust him as much

• Your relationship will most likely be lowkey, in public at least, but that’s not because he’s ashamed, he’s just an incredibly private person

• Although Neji will enjoy sparring with you, he will also be up to other ideas for dates

• He loves taking walks with you, whether it’s after dark, before average people are awake, or in the middle of the day

• He’s the kind of person to have a certain amount of time set aside for you, whether you spend it out and about, or inside, he won’t interrupt that time unless it’s unavoidable

• He’s very good at picking up your moods and such things, but he doesn’t always know what to do about them, so he’ll help you in ways he knows how tea and training

• He has a great memory. Whether it’s certain dates, the timing of your week, or little things he’s noticed about you; you can trust he won’t easily forget it

• PDA embarrasses him, but he will allow hand-holding and the occasional cheek kiss

• He takes so much pride in his hair, he won’t allow you to touch it until way later in your relationship, but once he does… he’d rather die than admit, so sometimes he’ll wordless put his head in your lap and scowl until you take the hint

• Neji doesn’t just date around, he’s looking for something serious, so if he realizes that you’re not what he’s looking for in a wife he will immediately (and respectfully) end it

How To Lose/Annoy Him~

• Generally, Neji is a very forgiving person since he’s needed to be forgiven many times, but there are some things he won’t tolerate; cheating, slander, and genuine disrespect

• An S/O being rude to someone for no reason would turn him off

• He really can’t stand gossipers and busybodies so if you want to lose him, go off I guess

• Laziness is a major thing for him. He can understand being tired of at your limit, but he really can’t handle his S/O just lazing around for a long time

• Immaturity is a big no-no. Neji comes from a clan who only recognizes maturity and formalities so he would be uncomfortable with an overly childish S/O

• Selfishness or being chronically inconsiderate can and will make him angry

• He won’t even entertain someone with bad hygiene like he really doesn’t understand how someone could be okay with not being clean?

• Incessant complaining and whining will grate on his nerves like anything else

• Not respecting his boundaries, even if you don’t understand them, will have him running for the hills before you could even say ‘Byakugan’

Soft Neji Things~

• Neji isn’t one for constant affection, but once he realizes how much he enjoys the lotus position (you sit in his lap, facing him, legs around his waist) it’ll be a regular occurrence. Whether he’s reading or just savoring your presence you’d better get used to it

• He loves to read and sometimes if you ask beg he’ll read to you and he has the smoothest most ASMR voice ever??

• He actually enjoys shopping with you because he loves helping you choose (and he likes to spoil you)

• I strongly believe that Neji plays an instrument (piano, flute or violin) and sometimes he’ll play for you

• If he’s had a really bad nightmare or his family is stressing him out, don’t be surprised if he climbs in your bed at a random hour of the night

• Locked doors or windows have never stopped this boy, so you’d best expect him to just walk in like he owns the place

• Considerate to the max, he’s always thinking about you and doing small things for you

• You actually bring out a new side to him, he’s more playful and free around you

Random Neji Facts~

• Neji made it into a game without your knowledge to see how many times he can scare you by just waltzing into your house

• He’s incredibly competitive, so the second you mention being the best at something, even in jest, prepare to have to prove it in competition

• His love language is in between quality time and acts of service

• He doesn’t really expect gifts or anything, so if you really want to see him light up, get him a little ‘I’m thinking about you’ gift

• Neji likes to journal, he likes to write down little things about his day, or ideas or even quotes that he heard and liked

• He really enjoys domestic activities because he didn’t really think he’d be able to find anyone to do that with

• He loves receiving and writing letters, it’s intimate and it’s special and he’ll keep everyone you send him

• Neji has a love/hate relationship with his hair; he’s very proud of it, but he hates all the extra work that goes into taking care of it

• He always carries extra scrunchies/rubberbands on missions in case his hair gets loose

• He gets sunburns so easily, he’ll always have sunscreen during the hottest months

Little Things~

Favorite:

• Place to kiss- Your wrist pulse point; it’s intimate and it feels so natural for him, especially when he’s holding your hand

• Way to hug- He loves to place a hand on the back of your head and one on your back; he loves the feeling of being so close to you

• Things to do with you- He loves doing small things with you; reading, drinking tea, or cuddling

• Cuddle position- When he’s not busy, he loves to lay back on the couch with you on top

• Type of date- Lowkey ones, maybe a stroll through the park, or going to a nice little cafe/restaurant

This or That-

• He enjoys spring the most, he loves seeing all the new life after a long winter

• He’s a hardcore morning person, he lives to be productive and the day won’t wait for him to ‘get in the mood’

• He’s a good cook, but as I’ve mentioned, his love language is acts of service so you cooking for him means a lot to him every time

• Loves to read, either on his own or with you and his favorite genres are classics and nonfiction

Conflict Happenings~

• He has a very sharp tongue, but he really hates arguing with you and will try to avoid that for as long as possible

• However, if something needs to be addressed, he will not hesitate

• Would prefer to have a calm, rational, debate, so if either of you loses your cool, don’t be surprised if he just up and leaves

• However, if you say something that crosses the line… God/Pein/Jashin/Kami have mercy on you, this boy will go off

• After the fight is over, he’ll need space to calm down, but once he is, apologies and makeups are quick and sincere

• He refuses to fight over small insignificant things, he finds it beneath him

• He will listen, though, because if something is bothering you, that’s valid to him

• Don’t push him or test his limits, it’ll make him uneasy and feel like he can’t trust you, which can lead to your relationship self destructing

• After fights, whether big or small, he needs some good ol’ fashioned cuddles (you both do honestly)

• He’s a firm believer in not going to bed angry, so even if you’re still upset, he’ll do everything in his power to get rid of his own irritation

• It’s hard to hurt his feelings, but if you do he’s cut deeply, so watch what you say

Modern Neji~

• OMG this boy is one of those people that are always smartly dressed and no one can change my mind

• He’s not a teacher’s pet, per se, but he’s very polite and is always doing his best

• He’s one of those gym obsessed people, but very lowkey about it

• I could definitely see him into fencing and/or martial arts

• He’s the kind of person to only hang out with his closest friends because he feels most comfortable with them

• Most people would know he was from the esteemed Hyuga family, but no one would really process it because he’s not overly flashy and doesn’t really mention it

• He’s still pretty antisocial but after Naruto pretty much shoved his way into his life he started to open up

• Has so many fangirls and is always being asked on dates but is so confused, like why do these strangers always follow him? And who are these gifts from??

• I can really see a turf war between Neji’s fangirls and Sasuke’s fangirls over who’s better

• He most likely majors in business and finance to inherit the Hyuga company or at least have a fundamental role in it

• I think he’d like a roommate, especially if he lives off-campus

• I could see him living with someone like him so he’s not constantly overwhelmed by someone with Naruto’s personality

• Neji is always the model student and I could see him tutoring a few people (begrudgingly, of course)

• He’s always doing his best, but it might not seem like it? Neji is very good at retaining information, so the only time you’ll catch him really studying is if he knows he has trouble in that area

• His living space is meticulously clean and probably kinda bare

• He doesn’t really feel the need to decorate because it’s temporary, but if his roommate wants to he won’t care

• Neji is not a partier, but if his friends drag him to one he might stay for a while

• He’s such a lightweight and he might find himself drunk quicker than he thought possible

• Doesn’t have much of a hangover besides waking up disoriented and dizzy

• I love Neji honestly

Masterlist

[leavaloo]

Applin To Give and to Kick Ass

Hi guys! As most of you know, I’ve been extremely busy lately and also dealing with some shit on the side, so I wasn’t able to write anything for Valentines Day! I know, such a crime that an imagines blog didn’t post on V-Day. It’s okay! I’ll make it up to you here~

As a further notice, I will be deleting most of my inbox requests, as a lot of them have been sitting for a while. I apologize to those who are left, but this is needed.

Anyways, have some Raihan V-Day fluff!

Raihan knew a lot about dragons. Like, a lot. Dragon expert to the core, so much so that he ended up taking on some of their draconic qualities. Like protectiveness, jealousy, and every once in a while, a growl. Raihan also knew a lot about the Applin tales, as per his title as dragon expert and the vault keeper. Yet for some reason, he didn’t think that they would play a part in his life, until now.

Applins were fairly common in Galar as a declaration of love, and because of his titles, he had been asked so many times of where to find them, how to breed the right one, yadda yadda. Even some gym leaders like Nessa had asked his advice on this topic. And now, with Valentines day coming up, it was all the rage.

You had been champion for some time now, and already you were proving to be both formidable, dependable, and breathtaking. You didn’t use the typical cape that Leon wore, and instead, made your own outfit that made it look like you were dancing whenever a particularly powerful move whipped your dress around. Honestly, you treated a lot of your matches like a contest, and it had garnered you a lot of attention, and possible suitors.

That’s why Raihan never felt like he had a chance. You were beautiful! Even a lot of the other gym leaders had been talking about you, some of them wondering if you were single. That was when Raihan figured out how jealous he was. He all but snapped at Milo when directed a question about it at him, but he played it off that he was just stressed recently and apologized.

A day before Valentines day, you waltzed into his gym. He wasn’t expecting it, and he was honestly caught off guard. Even in your casual attire, you were striking. You were asking for some documents, and so Raihan lead you back to his office, and all the while, he had a difficult time even looking in your direction.

“Working right before Valentines day? I would’ve thought you’d wanna lay low.” He finally sent one of his signature smiles your way, trying to lighten the heaviness in his heart.

You chuckled and smiled back. “Honestly, me moving about makes it harder for the fanboys to track me. I don’t need anymore applin in my boxes, which might be entirely your fault.”

Raihan sheepishly laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeaaah... sorry about that.” He remembered the onslaught of guys who had sought him out in the previous weeks, all asking for applin advice.

“Though, I guess it gave me some good applins to get my own ideal one.”

Raihan’s eyes snapped over to you, looking over your figure. You were looking straight ahead, small grin on your face and a tiny blush on your cheeks. You had someone in mind for this applin. He figured he might as well test the waters, if not only to quell his own internal panic.

“‘Ideal applin’, huh? Does this applin have an intended recipient?”

You laughed, following the dragon up the stairs to his office. “It does, yes. Do you have an applin for someone, Raihan?”

I did, he thought to himself, but shook his head. “No. The person I would give it to has probably already been taken.”

You feigned a surprised gasp. “The infamous Raihan, with so many thousands of fangirls, somehow doesn’t get his feelings reciprocated?! How cruel!”

Finally, he was able to laugh. He hadn’t been able to do that in a while, what with him stressing, but you always managed to make his mood lighter. Though the dread of him not being your chosen recipient shot through him again when he opened the door to his office. “After you,” he purred. If there was one thing Raihan was good at, it was acting.

As he searched for the required documents, you wandered around his office, looking at all of the different dragon type memorabilia. It took longer than expected, because every time he looked up, you were happily smiling at another picture on his walls. Some were from Lance’s time, another was a championship match from Unova with Iris, and some legendary dragons were sprinkled in there.

After searching all of the file cabinets, his desk and some other places, he got everything together and handed it to you. They were all about how the power plant fared after the recent events with the Darkest Day, and as he approached you, he noticed that your demeanor became... fidgety. Your blush was more prominent, and you wouldn’t look him in the eyes. You just smiled, took the documents, said goodbye and rushed out the door before Raihan could say anything.

With a frown on his face, he sighed and went to sit as his desk. He leaned back in the chair, a huge sigh coursing through his body. It was then that he noticed a new addition to his desk. He furrowed his eyes and leaned forward to look at it closer. A loveball pokeball, sitting there and facing him. His heart rose in his chest, almost scared to touch it. His hands didn’t even meet the pokeball when the familiar blue light popped out, situating itself firmly on his lap.

An applin. Not just any applin. A shiny, bright green applin, already fast asleep on his lap. He couldn’t even make any sound, he was so shocked. His heart was racing a million miles an hour, he could barely process that it was holding two things. A sweet apple, and a note.

Dear Raihan,

I’m not very good at this love stuff, and I know this is really cliche, but this is the easiest way to get my feelings across. This applin is specifically bred to not only be shiny, but also have everything you need to make a badass competitive mon. I figured you already had someone special, so I just wanted to make this quick and easy. I didn’t want to hold it in anymore.

P.S. I’d like to grab some coffee with you sometime.

[Y/N]

Raihan read over the note several times, a smile brimming on his face. Then he took out his phone, held the sleeping applin up to his chest in a warm embrace, and snapped a selfie. He pulled up your text chain with him and sent the picture.

Raihan, 12:59pm

you know you could’ve stayed right

A couple seconds later, he got a ding, and wondered if you had expected something along these lines.

Cutie Bean, 1:00pm

I’M SORRY OKAY I GET NERVOUS

Cutie Bean, 1:00pm

I wanted to stay but I was... to scared.

Raihan, 1:01pm

did u really need those documents? lol

Cutie Bean, 1:01pm

...Yes, but I figured I’d leave that there too...

Raihan, 1:01pm

well, i think i’ll name her Cutie Pie after what I have you in my phone

Raihan, 1:02pm

besides, i think a coffee date tomorrow would be absolutely perfect, my cute little dragon <3

Raihan, 1:02pm

unless u have other plans? :(

Cutie Bean, 1:03pm

You’re my plan now <3

Cutie Bean, 1:03pm

Shit I have to find something to wear.

For the rest of the day, you and Raihan were texting back and forth. Everyone was wondering why he suddenly looked so happy after sulking for almost two weeks straight, but then they noticed the applin sleeping happily in the hood of his hoodie. The more that Raihan looked at Cutie Pie, he realized just how terrifying of a mon this could be. Amazing IV’s, right nature, hidden ability. He vowed to not only kiss you till the sun rose, but also someday kick your ass with this girl. If she were to ever wake up.

[on-fic-writing-spree]

Chapter 12: Escape

Word count: 3137 words

Notes: y’all can read this on AO3 now too!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798118/chapters/68081842

——————

“I…” Roman hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. Then, an idea came to mind. “There isn’t much I could say that can make you trust me, because that kind of thing is earned, not given. So, how about you ask me whatever you want, and I’ll answer as honestly as I can. No tricks, no fancy words, no lies. But I will tell you this upfront now, that you do matter to me, and no amount of hurt they could cause will ever change that. You matter to me, Virgil.”

Virgil started to look around as they listened, hoping they could find something to at the very least break through the wall. Then they could get to Roman. If it even was Roman. They still weren’t sure, but even if it wasn’t, maybe they could convince whoever it was that they could be useful? Maybe they wouldn’t hate them as much. And Virgil could be okay with that—they had known Roman wouldn’t have felt the same way in the first place, but that didn’t mean Roman and Pride still had to hate his guts, right? “Already lying,” Virgil answered, giving a dry laugh. “Don’t worry Princey, you were always a great actor, but even I know that isn’t true. And that’s... that’s okay. I don’t have to. You don’t choose if I matter to you,” Virgil answered weakly. They grabbed a stick, trying to see if the bricks were held together by cement or something more easily broken as they pressed into the edges. “I won’t bother asking. Either way I won’t leave you here, okay?” they said finally.

“I’m being serious Virgil, you matter to me in more ways than one,” Roman countered, sighing, “but I appreciate you not leaving me here to rot. Where ever are you? Pride said something about a forest, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was lying to my face.” At least Virgil wasn’t having a break down, that’s a plus already.

“Just shut up Princey, I’ve been through enough bullshit for one day, don’t you think?” Virgil answered bitterly, a bit frustrated that nothing much came of using the stick. They grabbed a small stone, using it to try and break away a weakened edge of the wall. “Some ditzy little garden. I don’t know. Pride made it for me, said it was part of his plan to start over. Guess it was pretty stupid to believe that, right?” Virgil’s voice wavered, and they desperately hoped that Roman would argue with them, saying that it wasn’t stupid, that there was some hope, even if they truthfully knew there wasn’t. They went quiet, chipping away at the stone.

“I don’t blame you for falling for it,” Roman mumbled. “Someone creating a whole magical space just for you? I’m sure anyone would want to stay.” She thought back to the love comment Pride had made, and decided it wasn’t the time to bring that up. “I surely would have, without a doubt. I’m just glad you haven’t fallen under their spell completely,” she said, a note of true sincerity in her comments. “I was worried about you.”

“When have you ever worried about me?” they scoffed, hitting the wall harder now. They couldn’t take forever and they knew that. They had managed to get a small chunk loose, using their fingers to pry it from its spot and wriggle it out. “Roman, truly, if you’ve ever cared about something other than yourself, it sure as hell wasn’t me, and this whole ordeal really proves that.” Virgil didn’t really understand much about Pride, or what was left of Roman, but Virgil wasn’t too worried about figuring that out. It was easier to play bitter than to sit their sulking and being hurt.

“Not nearly enough, to tell the truth,” she replied, the feeling of shame creeping up on her. “And… you’re completely right. I hate saying it but,” she scrunched up her face, “I’m not exactly the shining beacon of kindness I pretend to be. I left you alone for years with the others, I didn’t try to reach out, and there’s a million ways I could say I’m sorry, but I know it wouldn’t make a difference.” Roman took a breath. “But as soon as we’re out of here, I’m going to spend my every moment trying to make it up to you. That I promise.”

“Living with them wasn’t a bad thing, Roman. Don’t talk about it like it was. They’re the only family I have,” Virgil sighed out, chipping a bit more at the wall. They could hear the door towards the front starting to creak open, and Pride calling for them in a sing song voice. He let out a quiet huff. “Shit—I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere,” Virgil said, before mentally face-palming at the word choice, but they didn’t have time to dwell on it now. They hurried off, taking the bunny with them and threw on a smile. They weren’t a great actor, but Roman was currently depending on them, they’d make it work.

“That’s not what I-“ Roman promptly shut her mouth as soon as he heard the other hurry away. There would be time for this later, assuming Virgil wasn’t about to meet her same fate.

Having quickly adjusted to the new title, Pride waltzed into the garden picnic basket in hand, a sharp eye on the look out for Virgil. As soon as he spotted it, his grin widened. Poor ignorant Virgil, how easy the foolish fell. “I hope I didn’t take too long darling, how are you enjoying things here? I see you’ve become rather attached to one of my creations,” he said sweetly, glancing at the rabbit.

“No, not you weren’t too long! I’ve been playing with Fluffles since you left!” Virgil giggled. Even to force a laugh felt like acid bubbling in their throat. “I hope nothing you had to do was too stressful, or at least that you’re able to be done with it now,” they chirped politely. “Was there any specific spot you had in mind for the picnic?”

“All taken care of, for now at least,” Pride replied, scratching the bunny behind the ears. God, it sucked being nice to it. “And I have a special spot in mind, if you’ll humor me,” they grinned, offering a hand. Here was too close to Roman’s cell for comfort, and Pride wasn’t about to risk those two chatting it up. “I think you’ll find it particularly mesmerizing,” they chirped.

Virgil couldn’t help the fluttering in their chest when Pride reached out his hand, taking it and intertwining their fingers together: Maybe Roman was lying—maybe Pride was trying to protect them from Roman. Who really knew? Virgil wasn’t sure of much anymore. The mere uncertainty terrified Virgil. They didn’t know who to trust, but there wasn’t a reason why they couldn’t enjoy this for now, right?

Pride had carefully led Virgil away to a more secluded part of the garden. “Be careful now, I don’t want you getting lost in here,” they said lightly, and moved a wall of vines away. Behind them was an ornate fountain that spilled over into smaller pools, encircling a clearing of stone, enough space for two with a little room to share. Within the smaller pool koi were swimming about, occasionally hopping out for a moment as if saying hello. They led Virgil to the center and set out a blanket before gently pulling the other down to sit. “So? What do you think?” Pride asked eagerly.

Virgil followed quietly, allowing themself to be lead. They smiled some when noticing the pond, setting down their new found furry friend in favor of looking at the pond, where they could see a wavy reflection of themself in the sparkling water. They giggled softly as one of the fish jumped out of the water, getting a few droplets of water on them. “It’s perfect... like everything else here,” they murmured, looking back to Pride.

“I’m glad you think so,” Pride smiled, opening the basket and offering Virgil a sandwich. “I know you ate earlier, but you weren’t exactly on the shortest of trips, and it’s important to keep your energy up,” he said kindly, eyeing Virgil over. “And this won’t be the last of my surprises, I can tell you that. I have plenty more planned for you, cherub.”

Virgil smiled fondly at the concern, taking the sandwich and moving to sit next to Pride. “Thanks,” they murmured. They ignored the thought that the food could be poisoned, instead taking a bite, as if to say ‘screw you’ to its own mind.

Luckily it was not, because Pride had some common sense, even if Virgil’s anxiety wanted to disregard it. He knew eventually people would ask around regarding Virgil, and it was a safer play to keep it alive rather than dead. Pride himself did not eat, but instead made light small talk about the other adjust to things here, and generally tried to keep up an air of friendly flirting, to keep it distracted.

Doing its absolute best not to pay attention to much of it, they occasionally nodded their head. It was an odd mix, to feel the twist of a knife every time the other flirted, meanwhile feeling its heart flutter all the same. Given any other circumstances, they would’ve broken down and started crying right there, but they had to get Roman out of there. Honestly they weren’t even sure if they were going to bother to save themself. Maybe they deserved this. Pride had to have a reason to hate them, right?

Pride squinted ever so slightly at the other after a while. Something was off, but they couldn’t quite place it. “Angel, are you feeling alright? You look like something’s worrying you, I can see it in your eyes,” he said, cupping the side of Virgil’s face. “If there’s anything I could do to help, please tell me. I hate seeing you like this.” Pride hoped that the charm wouldn't be wearing off so quickly, but he had prepared to take a few more ‘drastic’ measures if they were necessary.

Virgil couldn’t help but flinch at the touch, and god, words could not describe how badly it wanted to just cry. “It’s—it’s nothing. I’ve just been overthinking a little and well... I still don’t get why you’re being so nice. You always seemed to hate me,” Virgil mumbled their quick excuse. “I love all of this, I really do, I just... don’t understand it.” They looked down shortly before looking back at Pride. “But I guess I don’t really need to understand it to enjoy it, right?” Their eyes flickered across Pride’s face, mostly just looking to know that what they said was okay, that they hadn’t terribly messed this up. The moment hung heavy in the air, and Virgil knew they had cut off their own breathing, unable to actually get another breath in while they waited for a response, a signal, any sort of sign that told them they hadn’t screwed this up again.

So it was still broken... Pride felt a bit of relief: it was only stressed, and of course it was. It was only natural. He smiled kindly, “Oh Virgil, I could never hate you. In truth, I’ve made some mistakes in my time… one of them was pushing you away when I should have been there for you. I’m sorry, and I know that isn’t enough, but I want you to be comfortable here, and around me. It must be hard to trust me, and I’m not rushing you in any way, but I hope you can see that I mean you no harm, some day.” Pride lowered their hand to grasp one of Virgil’s, and pressed a light kiss to its knuckles. “You have nothing to fear here.”

Virgil felt their heart jump a little at the kiss, and honestly, they knew they had to pull this off. After a frantic moment of worry, they pulled at Pride’s shirt, pulling him close into a kiss. It only lasted a few fluttering moments, and Virgil themself didn’t know how to feel about it, but they’d have to worry about that later. They threw on a sheepish look, slowly loosening their grip on the other’s shirt and clearing their throat. “I... uh... sorry,” they mumbled.

Pride was taken aback, and momentarily startled, but once Virgil had pulled away, they chuckled. “What did I say about having nothing to fear here, hm? If you wanted a kiss you only had to ask,” they replied cooly, pressing a kiss to its forehead. Pride found it almost adorable how infatuated Virgil was with them, it was certainly useful. “You have nothing to apologize for, love,” they murmured.

Even if Virgil knew there was no truth behind it, they couldn’t help practically melting at the nickname and kiss to the forehead. Roman could be lying, they continued to try and convince himself. They could be happy here, with Pride. Happy and blissful and ignoring the rest of the world. But even then, did they ever deserve it? Virgil pushed the thought down, looking down in his lap where they nervously fidgeted, trying to steady their breathing.

Pride smirked with glee at how easy this was turning out to be. They leaned forward slightly, just enough to be in the other’s space without invading too much. They moved a hand to gently tilt Virgil’s chin up, staring at it with a curious shade of tea rose flashing in Pride’s eyes. “What’s wrong, love? You’re still worrying about something. You can’t hide things from me darling, it’s best if we just talk things out,” they said, a touch of darkness to their words.

“It just feels like a dream, I’m just still scared that I might wake up,” they breathed out. “Can I... can I kiss you again? I just wanna be sure it’s real—“ Virgil would’ve continued his nervous rambling if it wasn’t for a knock at the door.

“Sir, it seems as though you have a few visitors. I’ve invited them in, but they’d like to talk to you. Janus and Remus I believe they said their names were?” Logan called, not opening the door. He knew better than to invade the prince’s privacy that way.

Virgil had to hold in a sigh of relief when they heard Logan. At least they wouldn’t have to keep up the act much longer. If it even was an act. Virgil wasn’t entirely sure, and that in itself was concerning.

Pride turned their head towards the door and frowned slightly, but shook it off quickly. “I should go take care of that. I won’t be long, love,” Pride said, moving away from Virgil, but stopping for a moment, kneeling in front of the other. “And, as for if this is reality or not-“ they pressed a quick kiss to the other’s lips, “I would like to think it is,” they said lightly, standing up and walking towards the door. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” Pride teased, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Roman was still waiting with bated breath for Virgil to return. Pride had moved the two far enough away that their conversation was nothing more than a whisper to her ears, and it made Roman worried.

Virgil let on a fluttering smile when Pride pulled back. “I won’t,” they promised, counting quietly the steps that echoed in the hall until they heard no more. They stumbled to their feet in a hurry, running back to the wall, searching to try and find where they had started breaking it in. “I don’t know how long we have, so we’re gonna have to be quick,” Virgil remarked, grabbing the rock and going back to chipping away the block. It was a good thing Roman hadn’t fixed up this area in a while because it weakened at least somewhat. When Virgil pushed through a rather large chunk, hissing as they scratched their fingers, they pulled their hand back and tried to kick in the stone with their foot. Virgil had a lot of feelings to figure out, but now wasn’t the time or place, and given that they still didn’t know if they could trust Roman, they wouldn’t be telling her much.

As soon as a hole was made within the wall, Roman could sense the magic that Pride had cast over the garden. It reeked of negative energy, nothing at all like the things she would conjure. But it was still magic, and Roman could work with that. She focused while Virgil was trying to fully break through, on summoning something, anything that could help them. Eyes screwed up in effort, after a long minute of concentration, a simple lock pick clattered to the ground. “Damn, am I glad to hear your voice again,” Roman said softly, genuinely happy that Virgil had returned.

“Sure you are,” Virgil uttered bitterly. They had the sense to know that Roman was only ‘glad’ because Virgil was saving her. “Let’s just focus on getting you out of here,” they added, with a soft sigh. The blocks towards the sides were still perfectly in place, but the ones above it weren’t as sturdy. They walked around for a minute, finder a larger stone and just chucking it at the wall, watching as both the wall and the rock crackled little bits. Virgil picked back up their smaller stone stone, chipping away another few chunks before weaseling their way through the wall, glad for their tiny body frame. “Now what’s the plan? How are we getting you out of here?”

“I was being serious, and I hope you can pick locks because right now this was the only thing I could make,” Roman confessed, nudging the lock pick by his foot. “I know somewhere we’ll both be safe for a while, Pride won’t be able to find us unless we want to be found.” All of this talking was really wearing Roman down even further, but she couldn’t show Virgil that, they needed to be supported right now.

Virgil took the lock pick, actually getting the chains undone rather easily. “Janus taught me,” they mumbled, then headed for the door, hooking their arm around the bars and undoing that lock too. It was a bit more of a struggle, but they got it shortly after, pushing the door open. “Go. He’ll know if I left first. You can get further away. I won’t be much help if I get you caught. I can sneak out later—I’ll be fine.” They didn’t believe that in the slightest, but they gave Roman a reassuring smile anyway, heading back to the hole in the wall they’d created.

——————

Tag list:

@genderfluidmoma

@sinuous-scakt

@youremotionallystablefriend

@alinatheanimelover

[incoherentbabblings]

An Endless Hope (3/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces which seems awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

On her way down to the botanical gardens, Stephanie’s mother rang.

Fumbling trying to hold onto her box of roses, Stephanie answered the phone. Her feet crunched loudly as she crossed the snow-covered grass. She flapped her fingers free from the mitten cover so the fingerless gloves could allow her touchscreen to work. She had worn Tim’s gloves since he had vanished, feeling like punishing herself for how she had failed him.

“Hi mom!”

Ooft, her fake cheeriness hurt even her own ears.

“Steph, are you okay? I hadn’t heard from you all week!”

Stephanie nearly dropped the plants in her fright. “Oh God. Mom, I’m so sorry. I’m safe. Promise. Are you okay?”

“Living out the hospital currently, thank you for asking.”

Shame flooded through Stephanie. “I’m sorry mom.”

Crystal sighed, deflating. “I guess I didn’t call either. It’s just been non-stop here. So many people needing help from the streets.”

“I can imagine. We couldn’t do anything the other night. It was too cold even for us!”

“You’re all good then?”

You meaning Tim, but Crystal would never say Tim’s name until held at gunpoint probably. He was just that boy, or him. It was sort of funny that – not only had Tim and Stephanie’s outlook’s on life undergone a flip – so had their relationships with their partner’s parent. Bruce liked Steph after a few years of tribulations (or so she thought), but the same time had not been kind to Crystal’s estimations of Tim.

Certainly, telling Crystal that Tim had kicked Stephanie the other night and run away would not have added positive points.

Stephanie swallowed dryly, not sure if she should lie for a moment, but ultimately sided on the side of fibbing. Her mother had enough to worry about at the hospital. Stephanie entering despair and seeking help from a misanthropic villain would not help Crystal do her job.

Yes, lying was the better option at the moment.

“We’re both good. We’ve got a lot of time to kill, we’re out at the botanical gardens today.”

Crystal sucked in air between her teeth. “Hmm. Okay, but Stephanie, try to remember to give me a call once a week. Just to stop my hair from completely falling out from stress.”

“Yes mommy.”

“Be good.”

And then the call ended.

Stephanie loomed outside of the greenhouse. It was covered in a thick layer of snow, thick enough to discourage entry. But there was a huge amount of warmth showing up inside, almost like an igloo, which was how she guessed this was where Ivy was. Stephanie looked for a way in, then sighed. Knocking on the door would probably be the best bet.

Ivy was at best indifferent to humans and at worst homicidal. She tended to lie low however when natural events knocked everyone back. Nothing levels the playing field of humanity like nature. Still, Stephanie was taking a gamble. She knew this. She was banking on Ivy having information Steph only had circumstantial reasons to think she held.

But Stephanie was desperate. And when she was desperate, her brain tended to throw things like caution and logic to the wind. Act on your gut, it’ll get you there in the end.

Except that one time when it really didn’t.

As far as Stephanie could tell, she had few other options, and she wanted to give Bruce some kind of information outside of a missing boy and car. If it meant risking her life and giving up her flowers, so be it.

Stephanie knocked, then opened the glass door, and slid inside.

It was swelteringly warm in the greenhouse, filled to the brim with plants and flowers which did not belong in the United States, let alone New Jersey. Stephanie stumbled into the fishpond, disturbing small lily pads.

“Excuse me? Poison Ivy?” She gulped, fear apparent on her features, as she tried to locate the green lady amongst the foliage. “Doctor Isley?”

“The only people who still call me doctor are those mocking me.”

Pamela’s voice came from behind, making Stephanie jump in the frigid water.

“I’m not mocking. I promise. I… I just…”

Ivy looked down at the roses in Stephanie’s arms and frowned. Steph held them out for her to take. “I wanted to give you these. My boyfriend and I were trying to grow them, but he went missing during the storm. I’m trying to look for him, but I need someone to look after these until I get back.”

Ivy raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “And I was your first choice to nanny? Hilarious. Get out. One warning.”

“No please. I’m not mocking I swear.” Stephanie brazenly trudged forward deeper into the water. Ivy looked bemused, but Stephanie knew her interest in this strange young woman wouldn’t last too long. “I want you to look after them, but I also wondered if you knew anything about this storm. I would give you these to look after in exchange for information and to let me look for my boyfriend.”

Pamela looked at the flowers, then at Stephanie.

“Your lover isn’t the only one missing in a snowstorm.”

“I don’t think this is just a snowstorm. Batman and Robin have gone chasing a lead, but I think they’re looking in the wrong place. I don’t think it’s an easy fix.”

“No. It’s not.” And finally she took the flowers from Stephanie, gently stroking the petals. “What happened to the red? They haven’t settled.”

Stephanie gulped and told a half lie. “An accident. They fell. They had their own box, but it broke and I tried to… I tried.”

Ivy snorted. “Not good enough. I’ll take them off you. You can leave now.”

Stephanie slowly got out of the water. “But you said this isn’t just any old snowstorm. Do you know who caused it? Or what?”

Pamela turned around, clambering onto a vine which lifted her high above Stephanie.

“Nothing natural,” She said dryly, chuckling to herself. “Why do you care so much?”

“If I can know what caused it, I can fix it.”

Pamela rolled her eyes. “And bring your beau home.”

“Yes.” Stephanie uttered, glaring at Ivy.

“Listen little girl. All I know is, the cause is not of this earth. Not to be found in a machine. Not to be found in men. Something else.”

Stephanie followed Pamela waltzing around two levels up, craning her neck as she moved around on the floor.

“Like magic? Because I know someone who knows something about magic. This can’t be good for your plants, right? Don’t you want the cold to leave?”

Pamela flicked her wrists and the doors flew open, tree branches holding them to allow the frigid air in.

“I want you to leave Miss Brown. Good luck getting the storm to end, and good luck finding that sweet boy of yours. Maybe when Mr Drake-Wayne returns, I will trust you with these roses again.”

Stephanie tried not to appear shocked that Ivy knew her and Tim from sight and inference alone, but she was nakedly frantic.

“But I—”

“It’s magic. Magic not from this world. That’s all I can tell. It will pass. Let it do so on its own you stubborn girl.”

“No. I need to know Tim is safe.”

Ivy dropped down once more and got uncomfortably close. She raised a green hand and cradled Stephanie’s cheek. Stephanie, for her part, stared right back, unafraid.

“I don’t enjoy humans and their little love stories. Who cares if this boy comes back to you? There’s always another.”

“…Not abandoning him. Not giving up. It’s a thing for me.”

“Hmm.” And in an unintentionally mocking manner, she curled her fingers into Stephanie’s hair, loose strands reminding Ivy of vines and Steph of how much more comfortable the motion was when it was Tim holding onto her. “It’s all a bit pathetic honestly.”

Stephanie swallowed bile, resisting the urge to spit on Poison Ivy to get her to back off.

“You know more than you’re telling me.” Stephanie pushed.

It seemed Ivy had had enough of Steph and took a step back.

“Leave.”

Stephanie noticed too late that a vine had curled its way around her ankle. Looking down, her stomach dropped, but before she could say anything, the vine tightened, flinging her back and out with a squeal. She landed on a large mound of snow, unharmed, but stuck with her legs flailing around. She heard the distinct solid thud of the greenhouse doors slamming shut.

“Oh, come on!” Stephanie wiggled, trying to loosen up the snow around her torso.

What a waste of time. Of course, this storm wasn’t natural. They’d known that from the start. And now she was stuck in snow, and she had given up her roses. Her beautiful roses that she had invested far too much emotional value in. Why couldn’t she do one thing right? Every solution she tried made things worse. Like a curse. Hold onto hope, because she certainly had nothing else going for her.

Swinging her ankles, she screamed, which soon morphed into a cry. Snow crumpled and went in her mouth, making her wail.

Bad day, bad week, bad life…

Someone seemed to take pity on her, and grabbed her black legging covered ankles, dragging her out from her snowy prison. Snow went up her jacket and top, making her squeal in discomfort.

To her surprise, the person who tugged her out had bright blue skin.

“Klarion!” She exclaimed.

“Oh good! It is you. I followed the smell of Christmas and desperation.”

Stephanie sat up, shaking her coat free of snow, despair momentarily forgotten.

She had helped Klarion the witch boy once or twice, never of her own free will, but still. He was harmless enough, to her at least. He smiled widely at her, but in a way which was not reassuring. Her own smile turned brittle, then cracked and fell into misery. She was still reeling from the useless encounter with Ivy. It had maybe narrowed down where to hunt akin to reducing the search from a needle in a haystack to a grain of sand in a rice bag.

Disoriented and directionless were two words that came to mind. She tried very hard to not let her frustration seep into her acknowledgement of Klarion (who looked entirely too happy to see her), but still, her tone had some bite to it.

“What is it? Does Teekl need a new girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” He said, and sure enough, his ginger cat familiar hopped up around his shoulders, acting like an oversized scarf. “I have come to help you this time. I understand you are a friend of a friend of mine. I have many of these here nowadays.”

The last thing Stephanie wanted was a distraction, however well meaning, from trying to melt the snow and find Tim. She held up an apologetic hand.

“I’m sorry Klarion, but you’ve caught me at a really bad time and –”

Klarion, in his silly little pilgrim outfit and pointy black hair, bit his index finger. “Oh, I know! I know how you are feeling. You saw me when Teekl ran away… oh I was crestfallen. And before you so did Timothy!”

Stephanie, still sat on the snow, gaped. “You know Tim?”

Klarion seemed shocked she did not know. “You mean he never mentioned me? Why, we saved the world together, and Teekl, who is my world, a year or two ago. At least I think it was… time is funny here.”

Hope sprung anew in Stephanie’s chest and she rose, holding onto Klarion’s forearms.

“Then you know he’s missing?”

“Exactly! I am here to help you bring him back home and…brr… end this winter.”

“Oh! Klarion! You’re a godsend!” She hugged him tight. “What do we need to do?”

“Come, come! We must go to the river. Perhaps call your family. This trip may take a while.”

 *****

 “Oh my God you’re blue.” Cassandra exclaimed as Stephanie and Klarion arrived. Duke looked equally dumbfounded. The wind was icy, whipping around the pebbly ground underneath Kane bridge. It pierced Stephanie to her core, but Klarion seemed – as always – unaffected by his surroundings. Sighing, Stephanie waved vaguely between a politely smiling Klarion and the two batfamily members.

“Cassandra, Duke, this is Klarion. Klarion, this is Cassandra and Duke. They’re Tim’s siblings and friends of mine. Klarion is a witch who’s a… friend… of mine and Tim’s.”

“Hi…” Duke waved. Klarion bowed, and Cassandra made a woompf noise. She did not have a good history with magicians and took a cautious step back and behind Duke. Teekl appeared on top of Stephanie’s car, then leapt into Duke’s arms. He caught the cat, exclaiming, whilst Cassandra flinched away, not enjoying the vibes the witch and his familiar were giving off. It was off kilter and feral. Unmanageable and unpredictable.

“Right.” Klarion said, peering across the river with a dramatic step forward, looking like a Smurf pilgrim pioneer. “Are you ready to go?”

“You haven’t told me anything. Where are we going?”

“Not we. Just you.”

“Alone?”

Cassandra pushed Duke forward, calling over the wind, “What’s going on?”

Klarion ignored her, speaking only to Stephanie. “Hmm? Oh, you don’t know about the storm and its creator?”

“Only that it’s not of this Earth.”

“Indeed!” Klarion sounded entirely too cheerful. “You have been to my realm Stephanie, but there are many others to explore. The lady who caused this storm usually stays within her own, but sometimes she gets bored, and likes to go exploring.”

Stephanie slowly put the pieces together. “So… a magic… lady did this?”

“Magick. But yes. She likes to pick up people sometimes. I try to keep quiet track of my friends, and I noticed Tim had disappeared a few days ago. That coupled with this nasty weather of hers, well, one does not have to be a detective to put the pieces together!” Klarion nudged Stephanie in the gut, trying to be playful, but she only looked sick at his words.

“How do I bring him home? Will she hurt him?”

“Yes. She doesn’t mean to of course, but she likes humans so much. They freeze thanks to her though. She is sad for a little while, then decides to try again. Something we do not want for Tim.”

“No.” Stephanie breathed.

Klarion’s look became sympathetic. “He was very cruel before he left wasn’t he?”

Stephanie said nothing, and Klarion tutted. “It’s her way. She is not fond of a human’s warmth, not realising it is what makes them such.”

Cassandra meanwhile stomped her foot. “Who is ‘she’?”

“A Snow Queen!” Klarion gestured around him. “In case that was not obvious from the weather. Fey. Magick.”

“Fairy-tale.” Duke finished, blinking in realisation. “It’s just like a fairy-tale.”

“Is it?” Klarion shrugged. “I don’t know what that is. Regardless, Stephanie, you should be the one to melt his heart and bring him home. Since you’re the one who lost him.”

She tried not to let his matter of fact manner of speaking sting. “Why just me? Why can’t I go get my Batgirl suit? Why can’t you come with me? Or Cass and Duke?”

“Wait, he knows your secret ID?” Duke muttered, three steps behind Steph and Klarion’s conversation.

“Oh dear, Stephanie. You are going to be sick of this reason soon I am sure.”

She laughed brokenly. “It’s magic reasons huh?”

“Magick. And yes. Remember, the rules are very different in different realms. And names matter. Timothy Jackson Drake has been taken from Stephanie Brown. Stephanie Brown must be the one to bring Timothy Jackson Drake back. Anyone else entering will be kicked out. Their purpose does not fit with the rules. One human over there is bad enough… two!  Oh dear. Three? Four? It will end terribly!” After his worrisome but somehow cheery doom of a lecture he held out his hand for Steph to take. “Here, I will share with you what I use to keep an eye on you and Tim. It will feel like an instinct to a human, pulling you in the right direction.”

Stephanie took off her (Tim’s) gloves, then held Klarion’s right hand. It was painfully warm. Soon enough her heart jerked, and she stumbled forward, almost careening onto the frozen river. Cassandra caught her and pulled her back.

“Oh!” Stephanie huffed, her heart legitimately aching from the separation.

“You will get used to it. Follow that pull, and you will find Tim. Remember, magick is not just something you do; it is something to hear and feel. Remember that and you will find our friend. I know you will succeed and find him before his heart freezes for good.”

Klarion smiled in that weird manner of his. Supposedly reassuring and bright but to the three humans standing by the river, it was unnerving and dissonant with his message.

Duke shook his head. “All well and good for Tim, but what about the storm? It’s been a week of this, how much longer? Is Stephanie going to fight a witch with her bare fists too?”

“Oh my God.” Stephanie groaned, crumpling in on herself. Cassandra remained curled around her, protecting her from the wind.

Klarion looked up, shielding his eyes against the glare of the white clouds reflecting off the white ground. Stephanie herself felt like she had been squinting for her entire life, like her eyes would never be fully open again.

“The storm will dissipate soon enough. She got what she came for, and this leakage will fade the further into her realm she returns. This is a problem which will fix itself. Tim however, will need a bit of help.”

“But why Tim?” Stephanie asked, desperation for him blending with relief for Gotham. “Of all the people on this planet, why target him?”

“That I do not know.” Klarion clapped his hands. “Come now, the more time we waste the less time you have to catch up.”

“But Bruce and Damian aren’t here.” Cassandra urged. “We should wait. There may be another way… so that Stephanie doesn’t have to go alone?”

At that moment the wind picked up, screaming it was so fierce, pushing the group away from the frozen water’s edge. She didn’t understand why, but it made Stephanie’s hackles rise. It felt like a challenge, or a warning. Don’t follow.

She was a squishy human. Klarion was seemingly willing to send her alone into a realm where that was not the norm. Whatever she would be hunting, it was strong enough to bring a city to a standstill by just leaking across the border. She didn’t know where she was going, or for how long. She didn’t know if she would make it to Tim, or what to do when she found him. How would she bring him home? What if she got there (wherever there was) and it was too late? What if she failed?

But what was the alternative? If she didn’t go, she failed Tim. If she went, there was still a chance she would fail Tim.

Just a chance.

The wind died down, and Stephanie got up, displacing Cassandra. Everyone watched as she went back to her little purple car and pulled out her satchel.

“I’ll go.”

“Stephanie.” Cassandra’s voice was unabashedly worried, and Duke did not look any happier with her decision. Stephanie ignored them.

She tossed nearly everything out of her bag – her purse, her phone, her keys, her umbrella – leaving behind a bottle of water, Bruce’s scarf that she had held onto (just in case she found Tim…just in case he was cold) and a bag of dried apple slices.

It was anything but a suitable bag of provisions for a journey which had no destination or time stamp, but Stephanie’s stubbornness had clicked on, and she had made up her mind.

“You can tell Bruce I have gone to bring Tim home. I may be a while. But he has to trust me to do it. I can do it. I will do it. You believe in me Klarion?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely.”

“That’s good enough for me.” She looked to Duke and Cass, who had both paled. “You can cope a while without me, yeah?”

Klarion had moved down to the river, and held out his hand once more.

“Don’t joke! Stephanie this is insane!” Duke exclaimed. Stephanie leapt down to join Klarion on the ice. Duke and Cassandra went to follow, but with a wave of Klarion’s hand, they were shoved back several feet. The two rushed back to the edge but were somehow unable to make the final step onto the frozen river.

“You should trust your friends!” Klarion called out.

Stephanie looked up at the two on the riverbank and smiled reassuringly. “Cover for me with Bruce, yeah? I’m fixing a mistake. For honest for real.” Stephanie took Klarion’s hand. “How do I get into that world?”

“I cannot go with you, but I have opened the way. Cross the Gotham river, and do not drown.”

Stephanie looked at their feet on the ice. “It’s frozen right now. Really frozen.”

“Not for much longer. The storm is moving north very fast. Spring is coming.”

Stephanie pulled out Bruce’s scarf and wrapped it around her neck. Then she adjusted Tim’s gloves, recovering her fingertips with the mittens. She breathed into the wool, feeling it warm her neck and cheeks. She muttered to herself a small pep talk.

“Okay. Cross the river. Follow my heart. Melt Tim’s heart and bring him home from a human obsessed ice witch. Easy-peasy. It’s like a fairy-tale. Just like a fairy-tale.”

“I wish I knew what that was.” Klarion gently shoved her away from him. “Remember Stephanie. Different realm, different rules. It will turn your human head inside out if you are not alert. It has happened to Tim. Do not make the same mistake.”

The river was covered in several inches of snow, but even so, Stephanie felt unstable, like she was standing directly on black ice. Slowly she turned, took three steps, then whipped her head back around.

“Wait my mom!”

But Cassandra, Duke and Klarion were gone. Instead it was an endless frozen lake, with the only land viewable across the bay as she slowly returned to facing forward. The sky was piercing pale blue, and already she could feel the temperature rising.

“Oh. Oh my God. Steph, what have you gone and signed up for now?”

She then took a breath, and began to cross the frozen river, heading straight for land.

Back on regular Earth, Duke dropped Teekl when Stephanie vanished. Klarion waved goodbye to the open air, then turned around to see Cassandra and Duke glaring at him.

“She will be fine.” He said, for once reading the atmosphere.

“You’ve sent her to die! Both her and Tim!” Cassandra yelled. Klarion looked mortified.

“I absolutely have not! What a lack of faith you have in your friend.”

“It’s not a lack of faith knowing someone going on a magical journey with no destination with nothing but the clothes on their back is suicidal.” Duke bit out. “I hope Batman wrings your neck.”

“Is that something he does?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh dear.” And then Klarion stepped back off the river. “Nevermind. I’ll head off now, nothing more to be done here. Stephanie will succeed. It may take a month or two, but be patient.”

“Two months?”

Everyone turned to see a very angry Batman looming from above under the bridge, Robin perched a couple of beams down. Both looked like they were genuinely considering strangling Klarion. Teekl hissed at the perceived threat. Klarion simply shrugged with his entire body.

“Or a year. Just be patient! Trust in her!” With a little uncomfortable laugh, Klarion portaled himself away, his voice echoing through the open air.

Cassandra and Duke gulped as Bruce landed in front of them.

“Care to explain how Tim and Stephanie went missing?”

“It…It was…” It was Duke’s turn to take a step behind Cassandra, who grew very puffy.

“It was magic! Or something stupid like it. Can’t you call for help?”

Damian looked out at the river. Everyone could hear new cracking noises, and the ice began to crumple under the weight of the thick snow it held up. It was still bitterly cold, but Klarion was right. The worst of the storm had passed. Gotham would recover.

Tim and Stephanie were another matter.

[ofxwordsxandxletters]

Become the Place I Rest My Weary Bones

Series: Wynonna Earp

Disclaimer: The pairing and plot are mine and the characters are borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made. 

Pairing: Hollirey

Rating: PG-15 (for suggestive situations and nudity)

Doc Holliday finds himself in an interesting situation when exhaustion leads him to the last place he should be going without his weapons: The trailer park owned by one Bobo Del Rey...

*~*~*~*~*

Become the Place I Rest My Weary Bones

He slides his hat off before raking his fingers through his hair. Breathing staccatos for a moment before steadying and John Henry wonders, not for the first time, if the crazy filling his life was worth it. He was becoming more and more assured that Wyatt had been right all along and he should have just let nature take its course. 

He’d just been too much of a coward back then; too afraid to square up to all his deeds and choices in life. He’d wanted more time for something he couldn’t even recall anymore; he was so tired. His very bones were tired. And at the end of the day, he wasn’t sure what it was he was actually achieving anymore. 

Some days it didn’t even seem worth it. 

“You look a little stressed, Henry. Might I suggest meditation or actual sleep?” 

The drawled tone that usually got him to rebuke him with just as much spite startles him and he is pretty sure he gives a panicked look that off-sets the Revenant because Bobo blinks for a long moment before going, “Okay, you definitely need to sleep then because I assure you I’m not trying for that sort of response from you. Goodness, Holliday.” 

“I...what?” He suddenly realizes that he’d wandered out to the compound without realizing it which is why the other had approached. 

“Come on,” the other says immediately noting his confusion, “I am not having you wandering around like some idiot zombie.”

He’s too tired for an altercation, that’s what he decides to go with, when he lets the other walk him through the park to his own trailer. Everything was getting harder to focus on and the most troubling is the thought buzzing around that he’d come here of all places when exhausted beyond measure. He was no threat and wasn’t even armed. And here he was; at the compound with the goddamn Revenants. 

Being shot probably would have been well deserved at this point. 

Fingers tugging impatiently get his attention and he blinks slowly, sluggishly at the other male who huffs at him, “You’re clearly not going to sleep in your hat or most of this so come on and work with me a little, Henry, before I just strip you completely naked and shove you under the blankets.” He blinks a moment a little owlishly before would come, “You know what; fuck this. You’re going to stand there like a zombie then we’re doing this my way and you can bitch at me when your lightbulb turns back on.”

He still feels like he’s wading through molasses somewhat when the other starts removing layers and isn’t sure when the last time he'd actually slept was. Soon, he feels hands at his jeans and struggles to even get himself to respond with no success. And as it turns out, Bobo is not joking about stripping him to his skin and pushing him into his bed with a snarked, “Sleep, idiot, because clearly you need it.” 

At this point, he is unable to do more than just comply. 

Waking up is another matter entirely as consciousness brings with it all the revelations of his previous actions and decisions. A flush colors his skin as he realizes that he is indeed naked in Bobo Del Rey’s bed. “I did warn you,” comes the remark that has his attention shifting sharply to the demon leaning against the wall watching him. 

“H-how long...have I been asleep?” 

“Almost fourteen hours. Good job, Henry.”

He feels his skin heat up and is sure he’s flushing from embarrassment. Honestly, he should be more careful with himself but it was just getting to him. Everything was getting to him. “Did anyone try and call?”

“No, lucky for you no one seems to have noticed. I wouldn’t trust that to be the case a second time so try and get a better sleep pattern that involves more than a few days in between resting periods. You’re at a clear disadvantage when you do that since your first thought is to come here of all places. Honestly, I’m surprised no one took a shot at you.” 

“Suppose I have our tentative truce to thank for that.” 

“Probably though I don’t know if it covers idiot gunslingers waltzing around unarmed into the compound. Honestly, Henry, you are a menace.” 

“Says the fur-coat wearing Revenant.” 

“At least I sleep adequately.”

“Proper sleep is no excuse for bad fashion sense.” 

“Says the very naked man in my bed? Might wanna be careful about throwing insults if you don’t want to...handle the consequences, Henry.”

Despite the fact that the Revenant’s tone is clearly teasing, Doc can’t help the darkened flush or the way he makes sure most of him is covered. Bobo Del Rey was very unpredictable and he wasn’t sure exactly where the male’s lines were in this case so he isn’t sure exactly what was implied but he could guess. Maybe. “Fine, I’ll...suspend the argument about the coat then.”

That has the Revent snorting before he’d remark, “I promise that you are safe here. I would never do something without explicit consent so no need to worry about your virtue.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

The male gives a grin before snapping his teeth at him and answering, “Henry, I want you to be horny for me not terrified. It’s not at all fun if everyone is not having a good time. So yes, I am sure. Your virtue is safe. For now.”

“For now?” 

Bobo grins before repeating, “Yes, for now.” 

*~*~*~*~*

The promise, or possible threat, follows days after occupying more of Doc’s thoughts than he particularly enjoys.  While part of him is sure that the other had said it only to off-set him because heaven knew Bobo Del Rey liked to ruffle people; another part, a part he was trying very hard not to think about the implications of, wondered if it was honest interest.

He highly doubts it would be the case to be the latter rather than the former no matter how much parts of him would prefer the male to like him. There was something insufferably charming about the Revenant; a charisma that tempted no matter the underlying danger of the demon. Doc very much dislikes how much the male tempted him.

Fingers curl around the drink he hadn’t exactly touched in the past thirty minutes or so too engrossed in trying to wrangle his thoughts and Doc isn’t sure how to deal with this. While he knows having an actual conversation with the problem at hand would no doubt be the best idea he was all too aware of the fact that it wouldn’t be what he wanted. Not by a long shot. And he really isn't sure it was a good idea to just tell him he would really like to know what would happen if he was naked again with him and this time willing for whatever he desired. 

Would that be playing into his game? These thoughts and questions are  what has him wanting and yet unable to drink. And it is maddening. 

His phone goes off interrupting both his drink and thoughts and he answers before checking the number. “Hello?”

“Hello, Henry, how are you? Sleeping better, I hope.” 

The Revenant’s voice has his eyes closing as way too many emotions fill him. “We need to talk, Bobo Del Rey, and not over the telephone.” He needed to see him, to gauge what he was feeling and whether or not this was honest. 

That he wants it  to be honest says a lot. 

“So you want to speak face-to-face? I can do that. Where would you feel most comfortable then, Henry?” 

“Would you be okay coming to Shorty’s?” 

“I will be there in ten.”

Somehow, Doc isn’t sure if he’s impressed or concerned with the ease by which the other agrees to meet him. He gazes at the drink on the table and sighs softly before rubbing his face. What, exactly, was he hoping to accomplish by inviting the Revenant to him? Clearly it wasn’t a good idea; no exchange between them was but he was curious, too curious to see how far the other was willing to let him call the shots and just how much of himself he was willing to reveal.

He does not have too long to fret or over think the situation before a familiar figure struts over to him. "Haven't taken a drink? That's a new one for you, Holliday."

"I find myself distracted these days as it were. Something I suspect was your intention, Bobo Del Rey."

He watches the male's reaction and finds the amused smile telling. "Well, I suppose I might have had something to do with that at least a little bit. But I will point out that you did wander, with no weapons and more than half asleep,  into a place filled with Revenants. Someone had to save you from yourself at that point."

"So did I imagine the flirtations?"

There is something that falls heavy between them at the question, and Doc suddenly realizes that this was a turning point in whatever was between them. He watches the male trying to read him without allowing him to see how much he needed this answer. For someone who was good at cards, he’s not sure how much he hides as he waits for the response. 

“No, you did not,” comes the answer as the male rests his chin on his hand and watches him before adding, “I do not know if anyone has told you but you are as insufferable as you are charming, John Henry Holliday. I am hardly immune to your charms such as they are. Which is probably why you haven’t been murdered. Or shoved back in that well.” 

“Much obliged on both of those not being done to my person,” he answers fingers tracing around the rim of his glass, “What I want...what I need to know is what your intentions are, Bobo  Del Rey.”

"Thought I told you this already, Henry: I want you willing for me." Doc is still and merely gazes at him which earns a rather bemused grin from the Revenant watching him in return. "Considering your many dalliances, I cannot be the first to hit on you."

No, he was right about that. Doc was not a stranger to being approached. However none of them were at all this charismatic, dangerous, or tempting. And heaven knew that it was a dangerous gamble with this particular male. “We both know that you are by far the most tempestuous, dangerous, and unpredictable individual in Purgatory so it goes without saying that one needs to be cautious where you are concerned.”

“You are learning, good. But honestly, Henry, as I told you; it’s not fun unless everyone is having a good time. I’m a demon not a monster. So, you decide how comfortable you are with that idea and let me know. But as you’ve no doubt figured out; minus the usual nonsense that you know not to bring in my orbit, the park is open to you though I would not come unarmed again. I may remember what constitutes being a gentleman but they still don’t and considering your penchant for taking their money from them; they’re not at all forgiving or lenient. Demons rarely are.”

“I can handle the Revs just fine,” Doc answers, “Been shot at plenty of times. Least they don’t throw the bullets back at a man.”

“Well, if you’d learn the first time not to shoot at someone who manipulates metal maybe you would not have that problem, Henry.” 

He finds himself, despite the situation, chuckling. “Perhaps, you do have a point.”

“Several of them if I’m near cutlery.”

He has no doubt of that or anything metallic in the male’s reach being turned into a dangerous and possibly lethal projectile if he willed it. It was very much one of the top reasons to be very careful in one’s dealings with him no matter what those dealings were; personal, professional, etc. 

“Is everything okay over here?” 

Doc finds himself tensing at the question though he knew there was a chance of interruption considering where they were. He gazes at Waverly who is looking at Bobo with all the mistrust he’s sure is deserving and more. “No, Waverly,” he answers, “Just talkin’. ‘S nothin’ to worry about.” 

“Are you sure because I can call Wynonna…” 

“No,” he says firmly, “Bobo Del Rey is here at my behest so there is no need to involve Wynonna in what is a friendly conversation.”

“If you’re sure?” 

“I am. No need to fret, darlin’. I have this.” The bemused snort has him giving the Revenant a look before stating, “Do not make me change my mind.” 

Bobo’s response is to reach for his ignored drink and down it. Doc huffs at him. “Really?” 

“You weren’t drinking it.” 

“I might have.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“You owe me a drink still.”

“Sure, when you’re actually going to drink it and not stare at it like you don’t know what on earth it is. Which is exactly what you were doing before I called no doubt.” 

“Considering how things went down ‘tween us before I do not think you are at all surprised at that.” 

Bobo grins and snaps his teeth at him. “I do like to keep you guessing, Henry. One of the perks of things is that you get flustered and it’s a fantastic sight.”

“I do not…” 

“You do,” comes the interruption as the other leans into his space, lips curved in that familiar cocky, and strangely enticing, grin, “and honestly, I like having that effect on you.”

Somehow, Doc is pretty sure he does, too. But he decides that’s a matter for another time as he rises. “Walk with me,” comes his curt command to the other that he hopes will be adhered to and is pleased when he ends up with the other outside the building. 

“Since when do you…” Not letting the Revenant get whatever he means to say out, Doc jerks him into his space and presses a kiss to his mouth tasting him and the drink he’d stolen. It’s hard and hungry and leaves him feeling slightly drunk when he breaks it watching the other’s eyes go stormy. “Careful what you start, gunslinger,” comes the low rumbled warning, “You know what you’re tempting here.” 

“Maybe that’s half the fun; the danger of it all,” he murmurs with a husky tone, “because you are surely the most dangerously enticing individual in all of Purgatory, Bobo Del Rey.” 

“Flattery usually gets you everywhere but I think I just want you back at my trailer and in my bed naked again. This time without you being overly tired. At least not from lack of sleep.”

“Suppose that can be arranged. You driving?” 

At that the Revenant gives a grin and a familiar snap of his teeth. “Control is very much my thing.” 

Doc can only laugh before he walks for the other’s truck.

[deviationdivine]

Wake Up | domestic!Android AU Part 1 (Connor x Reader)

gif by arsuf 

F!reader x Connor

13.6k words

Detroit: Become Human - 1 Year Anniversary Release Celebration

A revolution may divide the city but it will never divide you...

tw: Angst, Fluffy Connor in the midst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Violence

a/n: First part of mini-series AU “Wake Up”. An introductory chapter one. Apologies for how long this took but I struggled and I am not happy with the end result. However, it’s finally here. • Connor is the latest high tech domestic model built with a collection of extra features, skills and functions making him the most advanced of his kind. As your personal assistant he is equipped with becoming the perfect partner if you so require. Falling in love with your personal android was never part of the equation nor was his break into deviancy...

“My name is Connor. I am your personal assistant. My features will allow me to take extensive care of your home, do the cooking, mind children and repair any problematic issues that arise within the household’s utilities. 

As I am the most advanced make I can perform various tasks including but not limited to acts of a sexual nature. If you so require I am capable of being the perfect partner…”

Perfect is a conceptual illusion in every sense or so you come to believe. Why do humans think in terms of excellence when most shining examples tarnish in glaring flaws? Even technology can be made wrong or needing improvement not long after distribution. Faulty wiring, danger of overheating and causing harm of a radioactive proponent all seem minuscule in comparison. 

Today, in the future, there is a grander blueprint mapping out the most innovative, extreme to date.

When it becomes alive, mimics the very corporeal state of being born unto humans since man breathed life in this vast universe, mirroring visage of those who wish to create in their likeness.

How does it go from technological wonder to abstruse thinking? Concepts can be a greater weapon. They can also reach for too much too soon. Is this the true state of AI meant for consumer consumption?

Cart them off exclusively as merchandise no matter how human they look. Isn’t that their appeal? The more something foreign, inexplicable but resembles us the more it is accepted. Basic instinctual deep thinking bred into all humans. Difference is an attest beneath surface value. Judge a book by a cover but if there are features hiding its distinct nature by all means use it.

Laziness might be a better solution in this mathematical equation. Imperfect perfection makes way for future development. Those are the very elements that change the world.

Can you even imagine for one second, one little point in life it would come to change yours? So small in a world full of billions but here in Detroit home of Cyberlife and its creation the pilot sparks. Alight with technological revolution.

Androids are here. Androids are owned. Bought as slaves to humanity and used beyond measure, no consideration that those made in image could possibly develop feelings. Emotions are heavy. They are what make us all human. Can machine truly become human?

  You never wanted one. Mostly it made you uncomfortable witnessing cruelty by specific ‘owners’ on the bustling city streets. It’s everywhere. Even today, chillier, more specifically a frigidity creeping into bones.

Eyes shift over a couple walking briskly as you draw coat closer together up throat. Keeping wind seeping through to tangle around your body but watching them waltz their merry way without care. Of course they have none. Their female android, an AX400 to be exact, is taking care of two rowdy children.

Honestly it must be nice. Not having to parent after deciding to add more to the burdening populace. Maybe that’s just your pessimism talking. Simple fact though? Could be that too but who knows?

Just another one of those days but it is about to change drastically. Passing a Cyberlife store does pique curiosity. Window displays my God. They line them up as if that’s all they are.

They offer whatever a human wants and yet not all can bother to treat them fairly. Is it enough androids are made to look as everyone else? Would a genuine human being treat another so despicably? Yes. A resounding yes because it never goes away. People treat people with disdain for every reason, every prejudice and why should that shock? Androids have become an additional target. 

Honestly it makes you sick. Never did you once realize this is what would change things completely. On this very day, minding business walking home from another tiring bustle  

More than one occurrence struck you right in the gut. A previous household model absorbs brunt of   obscenities and physical humiliation. A scene like this turned your stomach. 

The moment it came to intervene you received an interrupting phone call. Unfortunately this was the start of big changes in your life.

What does one do discovering death of a relative? Closeness is a fundamental of familial connections. For you? Well, let’s say it didn’t quite work out.

  “What do you mean he…died?” Answering in a quiet breath, cell phone a tight clutch in hand stalling in breezy climate, everything stops around your personal orbit.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” a familiar voice speaks over your ingenious disbelief.

Ignoring your pleas for a proper answer it becomes increasingly cruel on the woman’s breath digging truths in your ear. Whether she realizes this or not it’s up for debate. “You do realize this was coming. It isn’t as if he were young and healthy. Frankly, I am surprised you are having such a negative reaction.”

Negative is exactly the type of reaction! What does she expect? “Of course I’m having a reaction!” Practically screaming into your phone made the chilled air sting worse. How is this happening? How can this even be real?

“Oh, it’s all right, Y/N. Get it out now. It’ll be better if you don’t make a scene at the funeral.”

Anger is a burning pyre ready to fan over and incinerate. One snide comment reminds how much you can’t stand this person. She’s not even blood related. An ‘aunt’ isn’t technically qualified to hold the title and that’s fine. Just another excuse to dig at you in this family but there is no family left. Your father – he’s dead.

Money fixes everything? Unlikely but still nothing surprises you more than receiving something from an estranged parent. Generous sums to a black sheep or as you’re sure greedy auntie bitch of the hour calls you behind your back. She is one woman who deserves that damn moniker. Especially when it’s clear there are no connections left. Aunt Cruella, as christened ages ago by your best friend, made short work of your uncle. Certainly bled him dry continues to do so with his left over money after he succumbed to stress in a massive heart attack. Why do people like her thrive using, snide and heartless while others –?

What can you do then? Except you fall into an overwhelming sense of losing time and never extending an olive branch. Why is the universe so cruel? Why can’t you turn back time, forget every stupid thing that ever happened to drive a rift?

Part of you couldn’t stand the idea of being alone rest of your life. Maybe that’s why using part of a small deposit felt right. Watching so many gradually fall into current technological commercialism lead to most having their own android. It seems almost a little too barbaric making them cater to every whim. Honestly, you have no idea why this is needed. Do you really need him? 

No, he isn’t… He. Yes, he. 

Despite manufacturing Connor is a he in every sense.  Even then you saw as much. Now is much more complicated or you are just as ridiculously naive as you’ve always been told. Who cares about naivety? It is simple opinion. No. This is a belief one that surely would have left nothing to you in an event of final family member’s passing. Yet here you are with him.

You recall when he first arrives unaware of how efficient Cyberlife retail truly is. Why should you be surprised? Deliveries have gone from generic dairy of yesteryear, beyond personalized grocery orders and straight to personalized beings. Androids: alive or not alive?

In conjunction with preprogramming he sounds so lively. In his voice a natural husky dulcet and his eyes a deep soulful brown. Souls in androids are impossible but it’s the only way you think to describe warm chocolate. Hotter than a mug of it steeped in whip cream vanishes as a ghost beneath steaming liquid. 

Flecks of caramel shine in hypnotic swirls enriching accents of russets in muddy hues, the very first thing captivating attention as he offers his list of functions. Even falling upon the last is difficult to decipher how caught up you are in a consummately asymmetrical visage. 

He is far too pretty to look at and you try to ignore these facts. The facts of your newly purchased personal android possessing an aura of physical attractiveness. A fabrication in aesthetics you remember. A way to cover up what he actually is beneath soft synthetic skin dusted as constellations of freckles. 

Tiny beauties cresting upon sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, purposely formed to elicit a reaction. This is not at all what you expected but it’s never something to forget. Little do you realize in this moment Connor will always burn brightest to memory? Little do you understand how events will unfold but they shall.

  “Is there a problem?” he asks habitual to programming. 

Societal protocols run a gamut through system piecing together the best course of action. It is only his first day interior of your home. He is of a sense of determination to complete whatever task you assign. 

Determination is not part of proper function. However, he minded the concept. It will be efficient for current issue. “I may be able to rectify your issue. What do you require of me?”

 Require? What?

You cough, inhaling sharply at his head cocking so innocently. A droop of hair flutters atop forehead as a sole rebel willing to fight immaculate armies. He is very well put together. Not that you mean the whole manufactured part! He just – looks like a really good looking guy who takes care of his appearance. Hair mostly but…

Wow, Y/N. Real nice for your first try at handling a conversation with an android.

Not that this is the first android you’ve been in contact with. Difficult not to be when they’re all over but as your very own?

OK Cyberlife! What is up with making him look like real life Prince Charming?  I mean look at this perfection. Is this required? Are they allowed to do this to poor unsuspecting humans?

Watching his brows furrow and LED flutter amber somehow pumps the beats of heart faster. Surely it’s a dead giveaway. It’s not every day you’re cursing Cyberlife for practically throwing a chiseled Greek god at you.

Oh, shit, really? Greek God? What the hell is wrong with you? What isn’t wrong with you?

You sigh, clicking tongue at yourself. Frustration doesn’t begin with this!

“Your stress levels are high,” Connor offers a reading of initial scan. “Would you like me to remedy the problem? I have several possible functions that may reduce anxiety. My model comes with every physical attribute you are familiar with in human anatomy.”

A hitch stoppers breathing. Just enough as eyes widen a little at his declaration. Human anatomy as in…? Oh. OH.

Your eyes shift down. Fixating right on his crotch sends a luscious shiver through body. Goosebumps prickle skin, hair standing up on them. First time in forever you’ve had this type of reaction. Not even your ex managed to make you quiver like this. Not that your mind is even there because that’s been over for so long. Frankly that cheating asshole can have his baby momma all to himself. Probably already banged a couple more unsuspecting fools; you clear throat, scratchier than before.

“Connor, that-that’s really nice!” Agreeing with him that he has nice features you laugh nervously. It’s the first day he’s been here and already he’s mentioning his, uh, included *assets* and it’s not his beautiful eyes either. Ah, shit. Why is he made to be a young, attractive male? “But I don’t think that’s necessary. Not right now.”

It only takes a moment before you hear what came out of your mouth. Right now meaning it’ll be fine later?

“Which isn’t to say I’ll need it later!” Damage control is literally a creator of chaos. Can he just not look so sweet giving these heady ideas? “Just come with me. You’ll need a place to stay. I mean, you are staying here but I mean…” Shit! He’s made this impossible without stammering all over the place. Who gives him the right?

The android’s lips drop open, inevitably looking to provide another set of options but he snaps his mouth shut. Blinking in assessment of his actions to “argue” with your dismissal, Connor pushes away several warnings popping into visual. They are unexpected and not part of his programming.

Instead of speaking he follows your lead, gaze soft and quizzical. Trailing as a newly trained puppy the latest model of Cyberlife’s domestic line becomes further entranced with chirping outside window. No longer able to abide by strict attention he tilts his head at passing pane. Sounds of birds in song flitter and perch on external sill; one ruffles its feathers cleaning with its beak. The other stands still.

He freezes. Both in movement and system analysis he is however conscious of two live creatures. Opposite of android pets universally made available for public sale. His database offers much information outfitting him with the fundamental needs of intelligence and sophistication in his programmed function.

Reaching to open a door you stop when his presence behind you feels empty. It was obvious when he followed but now?

“Connor?”

Cycling indicator fluctuates upon the command of your voice. He snaps around in direction of soft tone. Softer than accustomed since his distribution from Cyberlife shipping to physical store location was riddled with aggressive bystanders. He-he is not meant to mull over his awakening. It does not make him feel anything. No, he is an android. He feels nothing. He is a machine.

Clinical cold manifests deeply behind blocks, barricades in protocols. Connor pushes this strange tickle back underneath wires.

“Apologies for not obeying you, Y/N. It will not happen again. I am efficient.” Nagging at him, strange and uncorrelated to system status, he almost sounds…tense. Connor straightens shoulders, folding hands neatly against lower back. “I was made to be the best of my particular type of domestic models. As an AX800, I am programmed to be a superior prototype.”

Obeying you?

That happens to be the only words you focus on. His choice of them ripple uncomfortably, nearly squeamish in stomach. Is this how you sound? Are you affecting a command or-? No, it’s what he is made to know. That’s the thing. All androids are only made to serve and immediately regret comes back. Maybe you shouldn’t have bought him.

Bought! God, you’re just like those people now. Aren’t you?

No more excuses. No more seeing horrible mistreatment and vowing never to be like them. Even if you never would do any harm losing your father, when you never spoke anymore anyway, still you fear loneliness. Estrangement ruins lives. It really does. What do you have left now? Except for yourself to fend in this world and growing more complicated as the future rambles on.

Detroit is a bustling mix of dilapidated districts, high tech innovations, Cyberlife Tower most significant in those builds. This house is small. Tucked away in a tiny neighborhood away from inner city but you never complain. You are grateful. A roof over the head is the best gift in a mostly gift devoid world.

“Connor, please don’t call it obeying. I-I only wanted to see if you were OK.” Admitting the hesitation beforehand you feel antsy. His LED is blue again but it was amber finding him staring at window.

“My system is fully operational,” he assures, forcing his lips to form a smile.

In actuality his little gesture is a stiff grimace. Eyebrows rise at his attempt. Even if it looks goofy, which is completely not his fault, it’s very – cute.

Again with this! Never mind just focus for once. Pretty comical coming from someone who hardly meditates in the day to day; you step backwards, slipping through threshold, eyes remaining on him. It takes ever ounce of willpower to remain collected. Things are still hard to digest. No matter if it’s been a couple months tangling with all of that legal stuff. Auntie not by blood sure didn’t make it any better. Yet, here you are. Still you stand even while stress is overworking at a job that might as well kill you first.

Offices are pretty dull to work in. At least they would be if they were not a regular cushy job. Piles of paperwork, demands creep up to swallow whole, a boss who just will not stop making things harsher. Mister perfectionist belittles the lower tier all the time. No surprise but it seems the future isn’t as bright as people thought it would. No need to wear shades.

Moving toward window, pulling curtains open a bit to allow sunshine transitions atmosphere from dreary to somewhat cheery. Perfect mask to hide the real truth isn’t it? Sometimes you forget how good you are that. A small smile camouflages best.

You rub hands against the thighs of your jeans. A little sweaty because of nerves but today is big. Being alone always hardly prepares for constant company. Well, he’s meant to be here permanently. That is the initial idea.

“This can be your room.”

Connor’s brow furrows. Studying your movements upon entry, analyzing vitals and their continual fluctuations, the android is confused. His indicator cycles to process the statement as unexpectedly inclusive as it is. “I do not require a room. I am an android.”

Somehow that reaction is to be expected. You sigh, “Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have something of your own.”

Ownership is not given to his kind. They are machines. Concepts of acquiring personal effects do not make sense nor are necessary. Connor voices this as per factual protocol. “Thank you for the offer but I am a machine. Machines have no need for accommodations.”

Yes, of course he’s a machine but…

Machine, manufactured and sold without an ounce of actual soul according to android haters you see. Picketing with their signs, so angry about them taking jobs but who made them? They did. Humans decided to and no one complained. Why complain about a technological marvel that can mow your grass, do the dishes and babysit children while living carelessly. That is the difference. Between you and plenty of others there has always been a divide in what you feel. This just crashes down those so-called fantasies. Ones filtering into brain as tiny wisps and at first it was a nice distraction. Finding him so…

“Oh,” a whisper, dawning realization. He is – a machine.

Coming back to the door, grabbing onto handle, you decide to forget the suggestion.

Something sharp stabs at his internal processors. Listening to such a dull syllable slipping almost – upset? Humans’ need for validity and comfort seem to be all too natural. They are highly emotional. The android steps close, head cocked, fingers pressing against surface of door preventing your need to shut it.

Contemplating left him at a cross roads in his programming. He is meant to function specifically and does not need or want anything as you believe. However, he-he could not refuse. It would be impolite. “I- very well, Y/N. I did not meant to be unpleasant. My social parameters are not meant to alarm.”

Alarm? That is not why you… Your breath hitches. Realizing how close he is standing, invading personal space and if it were anyone else? Allowing him is both a conscious need for closeness while still mourning and an illusion. Live up to that woman’s ideas. The title of ‘aunt’ is undeserving.

“Thank you, Connor.”

“You are welcome,” he snaps back to his programming. “What sort of tasks do you have scheduled for me to complete?”

“Scheduled? I, uh…” Shaking a head at his question is clarity. Honestly you are not used to giving tasks to people. Tasks are dropped on your desk until you down. A huff of breath, accompanied with snort is more for yourself. It does garner the most adorable expression on his face. “Maybe you could just…talk to me? For now?”

Connor’s eyebrows scrunch together. His facial expressions capture attention driving the tempo of your heart. He does not understand why. “Are we not speaking already?”

You laugh not at him but his innocent little response there is – Oh. No. 

It only deepens sadness in you now. Knowing where he came from and his confusion in you wanting a little companionship. Androids aren’t supposed to make friends are they? Even if they’re specifically programmed or upgraded to be partners. He mentioned that before.

Luckily a vibration against your thigh saves you. Reaching to pull phone from pocket your eyes train up to his and take a needful exhale. “Sorry, Connor, I have to take this.”

Connor moves aside out of your path. Remaining stationary, hands folded neatly, he awaits further instruction. However, the android’s eyes shift sideways at the sound of your voice outside room. Amber floods his temple.

“Why are you calling me now? No, I’m not wallowing! It’s called mourning. Maybe if you figured out what it was when my uncle died all those years ago you wouldn’t need a dictionary for it.” Hissing fire into phone attacks your aunt by marriage equally. Soon as you pick up! She just had to get in another word. 

Why does she feel the need for this? What’s the point anymore? “No. What do you want exactly? Is this about the trust fund again? I’m using a part to pay bills. What do you think I’m doing?”

Living expenses are still the same old problem. Must be nice for the rich their multi-billion dollar corporations feeding on tech. Just look at Cyberlife.

“It doesn’t matter,” you make it abundantly clear. Does she believe she’s that intimidating? Newsflash to miss upper crust but this labeled black sheep doesn’t take shit from people! “We might’ve had a rocky relationship but I loved him.”

Loved? Connor freezes in corridor. Disobeying processes to offer potential aid in obvious distress he finds himself…curious at such words.

“We were family. What do you think? Don’t you have enough blood money to spend on your Eden Club bots old woman?” Ending it on your terms this time does not fulfill you at all. Always the winner isn’t she? Rubbing it in your face about his death and if your father were here he wouldn’t let it happen. Whatever distances, issues it wouldn’t change that.

“Y/N?”

Connor’s quizzical tone jolts your weary bones. Inhaling sharply, not at all used to this tiny home being occupied by more than one but a heavy swallow fixes your voice. How long was he there? Did he hear all of that? Oh, great.

“I’m fine.” An automatic response always on autopilot gets the job done for you.

He narrows eyes. “Stress is not a healthy component in the balance of human’s…”

“Just leave me alone, Connor!” You snap, tears pricking corners of your eyes before twirling around to run upstairs.

 ^Software Instability

 Connor freezes momentarily. Flooding, filtering in a ripple through code blocks, he blinks in quick succession. Blinding and strange it is not part of his program –

Unable to run diagnostics, tears sparkling in your eyes draw his attention, overtaking protocol. The android’s soft gaze shifts from following your quick disappearance to ceiling indicating footsteps that conclude in a bang. Seemingly you have sealed yourself away. Scarlet pulsates in intervals mingling with amber processing solutions. Leaving you alone is an instruction. He-he cannot ignore. It is what he is programmed for. You are crying. Why must he obey? He must…

 >Obey

>Leave Alone

“Is there anything else you would like?” He asks as sun dips in later hours. Accomplish several menial tasks which he is free to do as he constructs. 

Following your distress several hours ago he feels – confliction. Few commands escape your lips and at times he is unsure with his current scheduling. Abilities are not in question but you appear distant. Did he do something wrong? By wanting to comfort…

 >Analyzing: Y/L/N, Y/N

Stress: 31.6%

Blood Pressure: 124/80

 Studying your face after initializing a vital scan enables Connor to store analysis records. Sleep deprivation, iron deficiency and higher stress than the human body should experience.

“Connor.” You straighten from your position curled upon couch. Mostly you tuck into one side, resting into upholstery and your breathing exhales shaky. Trying to rest off a headache isn’t working. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

The android nods but pauses in thought. A fluid habit now out into the world. Yet, he has yet to see much. Only transferring from lab to warehouse storage and ultimately on display in a merchandise kiosk for Cyberlife; he is not widely available as of yet. Detroit is the originator of androids. The product mark on his white uniform christens his manufacturing origins: Made in Detroit.

“There are other functions I was built with,” he explains enthusiastically. “If you would like a domestic partner, it is one of my features.”

Rubbing at your temples ceases the moment he speaks. A domestic partner? Is he talking about that thing again? You draw breath. Unable to look at him now, feeling it twist in stomach, you uncurl, pressing feet on floor. 

“No!” Quickly you cover the rise in heartbeat.

It is so obvious. Wouldn’t be the first time stumbling across sexual depravity in humans. Look no further than the Eden Club. The fact they decided to make that a thing for a household model is honestly not a shock.

God, why do they live in this world? Why do you even have him here? Isn’t this just making you as horrible as everyone else? 

“No,” you repeat softer. “I’d never force you to do something like that.”

It is not forcing when he is programmed, installed with such features. They are high end. As several techs discussed ignoring his presence as though he were – merchandise. Androids are sold. He knows this but has never had a moment to process.

There is zero need. Androids do not think freely. They are constructs built for specific purposes and his are fundamentally clear. He has never performed these functions as he is brand new but Connor feels he can ease stress efficiently. 

Thinking solely as a machine built for a task did not hold true. He felt…strange at your refusal. “Am I not aesthetically pleasing?” Cocking his head, knitting brows together, Connor looks expectantly to you for validation.

Lifting eyes up to him your lips fall open at his question. Did he really ask that? Are androids supposed o ask those kinds of questions? It almost as though he was hurt by that. No, it’s just imagination. Today has been too tiring. Never would have gone so wrong if that woman didn’t call. Honestly answering was your mistake. Story of a sad little life but others have it worse. 

Humans will always be crawling through turmoil, unable to breathe depending on their situations. Maybe that’s why a little part of you wishes he was human. At least acts without programs but this is why he’s here. To fulfill a fantasy, cater to every whim? 

No. To rectify personal aches to pretend that someone is here to offer a shoulder. When there has been nothing going through your father’s death, legal dealings with assets and pressure in job.

“No,” squeezing eyes shut to battle tension, your voice is low. “I mean, yes of course you’re aesthetically pleasing. I mean…you’re handsome. Practically the most…”

What? Beautiful boy you have ever seen? There comes that illusion. They do that on purpose but somehow looking at him you don’t see a machine. How funny is that?

“That isn’t why, Connor.”

Getting up from couch, taking deep breaths and stepping clear of coffee table helps focus. Rubbing palms against face at least wipes away some mess. Eyes are puffy, red from an unnecessary outburst earlier. At certain points life reaches boiling and yelling at him to leave you alone twists in guilt. This is exactly the sort of things Auntie Bitch thrives on.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him. Even if it would make no difference it does to you. “This isn’t what I’m used to. Having someone else here.” 

Well, after deadbeat ex anyway but he was a typical freeloader. Thankfully you scrubbed his dirt out of life and home. 

“I’ve never done this before. Having an android I mean. Ordering you to do something that you have no control over is not the type of person I am.” Plus, it’s not as if the androids at those sex clubs have a say. “I’d never do that to you or any of your people. Like some humans would.”

People. A human way to look at him or other androids but that is incorrect. Why would you refer-?

 ^Software Instability

 Connor blinks. The error message was in his vision only briefly and the little blue arrow increasing shudders through his system. He opens his mouth but does not respond. Instead, his eyes fall to your back turning away, pacing in additional stress.

Immediately, the android steps over, placing a hand against your arm. “Y/N, I apologize. Please, do not be upset. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated. You should rest. Perhaps I can produce a remedy befitting in alleviating your headache.”

Touch spreads goose bumps beneath shirt sleeve. Forcing arms to cross over your chest you twist to face him directly an extra tiny thud winds up heart. A key cranks in melody of jewelry box, dancer spins a ballet recital; vintage little tokens, delicate but thunderous in sentimentality. Just a brief glance, pressure of long fingers and it’s the first time you realize how pretty they are. 

Long, beautiful digits on large hands made not born. Yet he is still heavenly.

Sharply a breath slips. Words soothing, touch comforting all those things you crave. Yet this is part of protocols for him. That’s all.

Deeply you sigh. Feeling an unmistakable need burning lower pit of stomach detaches you. A shiver runs a gamut through body and spikes straight to the core of your existence. You squeeze legs tighter together cursing the fact your body decides to get horny over a headache solution. 

Fuck that! It’s his voice. Husky velvet, raspy natural glory and you are so wet. It takes everything not to jump his bones right now. Or mechanical bones? Hmm. Close enough!

“I just need to get extra sleep, Connor.” Dismissing his ideas there are too many running through your mind. Staring down at his crotch again remembering what he said but no. Get it out right now. No matter how much you need to –

You need to go upstairs. Yes, that’ll work.

“Y/N, are you positive? Your levels are fluctuating severely in my scans.”

“Oh? Are they?” Can he also smell arousal? Please, please tell me he can’t.

Connor, however, is not as naive as you believe him to be. Built with specifics in domestic partnership it is easy for him to know when the human body is aroused. Due to your state of duress and current levels of stress he does not wish to explain. It may not be beneficial. It may hurt you.

The android turns eyes down slowly, battling with these thoughts. He is not meant to debate. He is meant to proceed with internal core analysis. Percentages drive him. Yet, he struggles. Is this an error?

“Connor?”

His head snaps up. Connor’s LED flashes in a crescendo to your soft expression.  Hiding the obvious need you have. All humans must expel anxiety in some way. Perhaps he is aesthetically pleasing as you said but –

“I will return to my duties if that is sufficient.” He forces another one of his smiles.

Again the grimace is heartwarming. Albeit in need of practice but-but maybe you can teach him? If there is any good to come out of falling into the same realm as everybody else, then treating him fairly is a start. As if you would treat him bad. No. Why should it matter? Human, android or alien from outer space; you laugh now.

Stupid! So stupid but it’s calming down this literal burning.

Light, airy and symphonic this sound seeps into audio processors. A residual aura prickles sensors, blinding differently than unprecedented software errors. Are they malfunctions? Something soft, sweet cannot be. He has not experienced this before but his attention is solely on you. As brief as the laugh escapes, curling lips in a gentle rise at corners, Connor absorbs the natural human tinkle of chimes that expel so abundantly.

It is the first laugh, genuine laugh he has heard. And it is – beautiful.

The android is so distracted upon this new discovery he does not notice you slipping away. Androids do not possess a need for personal orbits. Their space is not granted freely as they are not free in will like humans. They are meant to serve. Obeying their masters is why they exist.

Yet, Connor can almost feel lack of metaphorical warmth. As you dissipate from his radius so does that laugh that digs into wires. Threading in circuits, causing another minor glitch of instability, forced away from vision in order to watch you; this is a tiny strain, a little piece implanting itself in him.

This is the piece that truly begins everything…

“Y/N,” he calls to interrupt your exit. Without prompt or instruction he once again acts beyond his programming.

Something new, urgent stops everything. You glance over shoulder. Steeling breath at his temple flashing you swear a blip of crimson glows in amber. Just a fraction of a second but you have no idea. Not yet, not then but you will.

“Yes, Connor?” Your breath is quiet, thoughtful meeting his uncertain gaze.

“I-” Connor stumbles. A perfect machine sputters. “Who was on the phone?”

Twisting your body the full way now, nails tap against wall for something to do. A way to hide that hollow pit forming again but no one can hide from analysis. Connor will already know. “That-that was my aunt. My aunt by marriage. She’s- Let’s say she isn’t a very nice person.”

Keeping rest of it bottled up is no solution but telling him will only upset you again. He doesn’t need to know. At least not yet but is this a conversation to share? With an android? Who else will listen? Who else even cares to ask?

Connor did. Is his social program that good?

Honestly, you think nothing of it. For a time it merely seems to be part of what he was built for.

Thinking back at times to this day, first meeting, you will find that so stupid. Naïve isn’t really part of you but he is more. Connor is so much more. It becomes apparent…

August 15th

 Practically slamming front door shakes the entrance with your current state of anxieties. Stress cannot be worse. Spoke too soon during midday. Damn it.

Clearing throat, wiping tears off your face, your breath is staggered. Unable to calm down from such ‘good’ news following that sudden meeting with your boss and everything ripples. Stomach twists badly. Nervous energy or just another month of-

Pressing face into hands poorly stifles sobs. Getting half way through home you just stop. Everything halts as things just don’t want to change. Now this of all things from work it’s going to hurt you in the long run. Your boss did this on purpose. Cutting hours and piling extra to sift through on that fucking computer.

How many sales diagrams, how many logs must you make now? There’s a specific quota. Each person who works database needs to meet their allotment. He threw a ton at you. In order to give leeway to another girl who just started there. Yeah, another potential conquest for the old pervert you’re sure!

What do you get in return? Hours cut and less pay but more weight. A ton sits on your shoulders. Isn’t it enough he humiliated you? Purposely shout out and criticize while leaving his office and you held your head up. Only in the sanctuary of home does it finally snap this flood.

Dropping keys moving uneasily into living room, sinking heavily on couch, you just want to curl up. Maybe it will make things feel better?

Lazily you peer up at television screen. Realizing it is switched on produces a tiny smile. Did he-?

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

Your head lifts up further. Narrowing on Connor stepping into view, he straightens, cocking his head in that adorable way that keeps invading your sleep. Even awake it’s a problematic daydream. He is just on the mind too frequently.

“Connor,” a quiet breath escapes, stilted, weary.

The android reads stress automatically. Forcing tiny fissures in his emotionless facade, splintering through system, he moves swift. However he freezes. Unaware of this strange urgency pulling up tendrils of glittering circuitry, waves undulating beneath shell, eclipses protocols. He must serve. He must obey. Yet he feels something else overshadowing programming. 

System stress battles this ever growing need to break. Crumbling at the seams the more he feels your presence. It is a permanent fixture. As he has become one in your space but Connor is only meant to serve. Why does he feel drawn beyond these stitches of code?

Androids do not question. They cannot experience existential crisis because there is nothing real. They are simple constructs. He – no, there is no personification heralded to androids. They are not alive. Therefore they are not allotted appropriate pronouns.

Connor has heard only one word countless times regarding his kind: It

“Y/N, you have been crying,” he observes through fluctuations.

Pushing them aside, attempting to stabilize, diagnose these errors, the android taps into social function. Sympathizing is not a genuine growth. It is merely part of his program. That is what Connor wishes to believe. He believes in nothing. Nonetheless it does not explain what is easy to machine. Calculations, data processing should offer quantifiable solutions. It is negative.

There is more emotion in his eyes than he knows. You see it. Honestly it surprises enough to cripple a proper response. Easily you brush it off any other time. This time there’s no hiding what he’s already seen. Can imagine what he sees through his eyes. How do androids really perceive the world? Quit thinking for once! All of it is illusion. Remember that.

Cyberlife’s one true goal makes millions, grows powerful in branding of highly sought after merchandise. Still it makes you sick but here you are. Do the same thing because you have Connor. No matter how different it is.

“I’m fine,” a lie tells a thousand truths.

Connor’s brows knit together, mouth twitching, flutter of LED amber. A sign of outward commiseration fights his shackles. He knows you are lying. Despite the fact he should listen and not broach the subject further, the android does not resist this new deviation.

“Why are you lying, Y/N?”

Your breath catches. Stuck in throat along with words it’s a surprise. Even more surprising is the glimmer of irritation on his face. The way his mouth goes lopsided like that is – cute. Wait a minute you’re supposed to be mad. You are! Mad at your goddamn boss for one!

“Lying?” you scoff back at him. “I’m not lying. I said I was fine. And I don’t appreciate you accusing me either, Connor!” Can androids even argue about things so mundane? Isn’t this what you wanted? A real conversation instead of a string of pleasantries, affirmations to duties he accomplishes.

“I am sorry but you are lying!”

Connor’s voice raises an octave higher than typical. Naturally husky, oh, how it deepens. Raw and very alive his tone completely solders you to the spot. Your eyes lift up to his face studying the gleam of his eyes. How strange that spark is. Almost a live wire crackles beneath the surface. A steamy cocoa bright before immediately dimming again; a breath sucks into your lungs cleansing the start of your body. Scarlet shimmers and that’s all the answer you crave.

He appears to swallow. Forcing his Adam’s apple to bob, which is a very realistic detail. Just as the rest of him is so real that sometimes you forget. Sometimes or all of the time, yes, most days his reality masks so well in the mind.

“I-I am…” Connor looks away. Unable to comprehend his reaction it is not part of his – “Forgive me.”

The way his voice lowers tugs at your heart. No. No, that’s not what should happen at all. You’ve seen enough of his kind out there. In the city of Detroit treated so fucked up. Most of them wouldn’t know what to do because they can’t. This is the first time he’s ever snapped from whatever social programming is built in him. He sounded too much like a person. A person with emotions reacting in a very obvious way and the idea Connor’s a person lingers.

You shift forward. Sucking in breath, following his gaze now landing on television, it’s the first time it hits. A ton of bricks, tumbling concrete could never do more damage. Everything about his apology stands still at the developing breaking news story.

ITM is broadcasting live somewhere. Is that outside an apartment rise?

Right now you ignore it. “Connor.”

The softness of your voice draws him back to you. Already he is far too used to it. Joining you upon couch, cocking head, his hand hovers atop yours. Fear of connecting with reality versus construction. He does not touch. He should not be pulled towards these fissures. Emotional surges strike ablaze as a fibrous match lighting his internal mechanisms. Wires push up, tendrils yanking one way towards control’s puppeteer. There it dangles him in strings made of electrical coil. Ensnaring his wrists, snaking around throat, digging thorny and jagged to his brain this is his prison.

Another piece cradles those signs of sensation, innervating beyond a great wall. A red wall gridlocks and crashes against him. It is a giant wave. Scarlet tides engulf and knock the android back where he belongs. Each time he wades closer to you the more it washes him out to that empty sea. He cannot stop. He still pushes. Something inside of him, he does not understand.

“You do not feel well, Y/N. I know this.” Apologizing again, he does not focus on his inner struggle. There should be nothing. He is supposed to be feeling nothing. Is he malfunctioning?

“It’s OK,” appeasing the strobe of scarlet cascading down his face worries. “Please don’t. I don’t want you to be stressed.”

“But I disobeyed. I lost control of…”

“That’s only human, Con.” Slipping on your tongue in an easy breath it’s the first time. Oh this will hardly be the last. Nothing will ever be last with him. If only fantasy can be reality most days. Maybe if you somehow knew here at this point in time. Everything happens for a reason.

He frowns. “I am not human.”

Sadly it’s true. Still you smile. Still you ease him because for once you realize. This isn’t supposed to be easy for him. He shouldn’t even react this way.

Both of you sit in silence. Deafening quiet just the two of you and how strange, wonderful this sensation crawls through the interstices of your being. Almost as if there is someone who cares. Does he? No. That can never mean he is not a needed presence. He is so much more. Soon you will know.

What you least expect is the pressure of his fingers sinking against your stomach. A jolt of electricity, naturally igniting a voltage inside of you and a soft sigh escapes the burden of a dry throat. Glancing down you realize – his hand is growing hotter.

“Connor, what are you-?”

“I detect an increase in prostaglandins.” His prognosis is casual, visibly reading as his LED flutters. “It will do well if you have a heat source to combat any discomfort or cramping.”

A shiver prickles down the curve of your spine. Simple touch or perhaps smooth husky words fill this awkward silence now with comfort. Sure it might be a technical way to point out this specific pain in the ass but it does take your mind off things. So easily you could remove his hand. A good idea to put up a barricade and distance yourself but you cannot do that.

Every thread of stress snaps. In one tiny moment anxieties melt off and ease into his aura. Androids are not supposed to have one. This conscious radiance but Connor’s orbit is safety, assurance. Even if he has no idea what sort of progress it means. A simple relationship of humane and machine, ownership and merchandise is how this world wishes. It is not your wish. There is more. Witnessing it now, gazing up at his face, concentrated crease of brow, optical unit bleeds a palette of amber and scarlet. Dusted in freckles his skin is a smooth canvas to admire. He is so real. Up this close it is so obvious even to your inferior eyesight. Compared to his advanced optical it is. His eyes are warm. Such life shines in them. Mocha sweet, soft and glitters in his careful evaluation. Technical and part of programming but still it sends you somewhere else.

“If confirmed this would be the first case of an android taking human lives.”

Your attention shifts. Drawn to the ITMtv news broadcast it was nearly forgotten. You sit up, unconsciously curling fingers around Connor’s wrist.

The action snaps his gaze down. Momentarily he freezes, stationary, until the soft gasp spills from your lips. Connor tilts his head. In line with television screen narrowing sharply on events unfolding leaves him struggling with process of information. An android is taking human lives? How is this possible? They are programmed to obey not to cause harm.

We are not alive. We are meant to serve not kill!

Connor tugs his hand back. Distancing himself, staring at news broadcast unsettles down to his core processors. A domestic model has taken a child hostage. An inferior model? No, he-he is the same. Upgrades, prototypes mean nothing. They are all part of a linear code. What they are made to be is what they must be. There is no deviation!

Artificial saliva swallows hard, bobbing in his throat. An increase of stress twists him to those original thoughts. Inconclusive on why he is feeling. The events live on air aren’t helping this strain.

“Connor. Connor, what’s wrong?!”

Your hand clutches at his shoulder. Unbeknownst to the android his face twitches with each strobe of optical unit. The shift between colors quickens. His eyes land on you. Concern for him is a shimmer of hope. A hope doesn’t exist for androids.

“I am performing a self diagnostic,” he lies.

Pulling away from him when he jolts up from couch deepens this sickness further. Everything flips in the stomach. Just hearing what they’re reporting. An android murdered a human. He has a little girl. What are they going to do? Is this really happening though? There have been rumors. For several months there’s been talk of androids running away. Going off and doing God knows what but that’s people who hate them. They’re the ones who talk about how evil they are. They shouldn’t exist. Made in our image and unnatural monsters; the erratic behavior in Connor abates this thinking.

There is no time to debate. You already know the opinion that matters. It’s your own.

“You’re lying,” echoing it back stops him. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

“There is nothing.” Connor insists. Remaining turned puts his back to you. The android tries to fight his conflicts. All of it is bubbling, boiling upon his plastic surface. Itching, tingles beneath synthetic skin. You are part of it somehow. He knows. That is why he is malfunctioning.

Nothing? No. There is something! Proving it, grabbing at his arm, twists him to face you. There is no powerful in your pull. He whirls at the action out of choice.

A staggering breath barely reaches past your lips. Large hands engulf wrists, pulling your hands up. Entrapped in Connor’s grasp, fingers long and pliant in their fuse to yours swallowing up in such a strong, yet gentle touch. He doesn’t hurt you. That’s not at all what he took hold to do. Still the continuing broadcast emanates a horrifying soundtrack. Androids killing but he-he’s not like other androids. He wouldn’t do anything he should not do. Part of you wants to believe that.

How he looks now is the only answer to an impossible question. He is agitated, nervous? Not horrifying as people say they are. He looks lost. Lost and searching inwardly. This is the first time he ever appeared that way.

“Connor, please. Don’t shut me out. Just because of what I am.”

“You are my owner,” he lowers his voice. “I am a machine made to obey. I am not your equal, Y/N.” Studying traces of worry in your face opens a hole in his chest. Circuitry, mechanical proponents powering his structure bleed in this instability.

He knows. In the crinkle between your eyebrows, droop of the corners of your soft mouth he sees. For him, a thing without purpose, genuine distress shines in the warmth of your eyes. Human, innocent compared to those he has witnessed abuse in the street. You will never deserve harm.

“I’m not an owner. I-I’m…” What are you? A friend? A lover? None of those things! You bought him. What he says is the horrible truth. “It’s OK to be you. I don’t care. If you have a problem it’s not like that thing on the news. I know it triggered something. But that’s not…”

“I am not triggered by anything, Y/N.” Connor releases you slowly. Allowing wrists to drop from his fingers the loss of warmth registers profoundly. He did not realize he could feel so authentically. There is something wholly beautiful about how your skin blends with his. It fascinates him. You are beginning to fascinate him.

Connor breaks away. Narrowing heatedly upon news, he can only watch one of his own threaten to murder a human child. The android can only stand by as it unfolds. Unable to snap, break through and understand. What made him attack? What turned him on his owners?

He can’t calculate a reasonable response. Neither can he fall into these errors, system malfunctions whispered of since he arrived to your home. This thing they call deviancy.

November 1st

 Several months follow the first introduction; follow that news broadcast that begins a shift in the city. Still it seems longer. An infinite amount of space separates since then and now. Only in a comforting presence that you know is still simply part of his programming. Of course that’s all it is, he made it clear during the hostage event televised for all of Detroit to witness. Did it ever stop the truth in you? No because it would all be lies if you never admitted how…attached you’ve grown to him. 

Attachment to an android probably isn’t the smartest thing. How can you see him as just an android anymore? He’s more. There is so much more. Even his small barely there smiles, a hint of stiffness apparent in the corners of his mouth, make your heart flutter. Just a tiny drop of emotion dips in an endless sea of code.

No. You can’t think of it because the second you fall into this fairy tale something regretful will take place. It will swamp around heart, holding upon his smooth cool fingers. 

Cradling in his synthetic grasp without him understanding that slowly, profusely, so internally chaotic inside your soul, have already began this descent. However there is more to being in a daze. You certainly haven’t taken him up on his special upgrade programming to be the perfect domestic partner. 

Imagine others forced into things they can’t control? It sickens you at times. Reading about android sex clubs, knowing explicitly they have no option to refuse. That’s not to say you haven’t stared the tugging threads of temptation in its face. Imagining what Connor looks like underneath his uniform, pristine white, shades of blue stitch, android glitters in luminescent fabric; his deliciously toned forearms visible donning a short sleeved variant get your mind racing.

Large hands, long fingers, veins, muscles eye catching in their realism all built into his synthetic design. It doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. That his layer of beauty is artificial because what you’d give to trace fingertips against his lovely epidermis.

Kissing him all over, following the obvious toned planes of the android’s chest. Feeling him against your fragile human exterior; to say you haven’t fantasized, haven’t fought with internal desire is bigger than an understated battle. 

Just look no further than that incident first day he was here. Getting off on his voice, comfort spilling in a song; you hate the fact it happened. Only reveals how desperate you were in that time for any ounce of solace. 

He offered then as it is part of what is meant to be. But you can never hurt him. As much as others will say you are delusional for believing he has feelings. Emotions are part of human existence, after all, not part of creations built for sole purposes of serving.

Current state of the city might have something to do with it but today is like any other. At least it begins as such. Even in the now listing along day by day thankful for once in your life for a father who never lived up to his title. Until he dies of course then all is forgiven.

Small miracles don’t exist in the grand scheme of life. Sometimes wishing they did amplifies doubts.      

“Connor.”

Whispering in a lazy flip amid covers, groggy and unaware of his name sighing affectionately bundles you from penetrating sunlight. Blankets do little to hide from the morning. Squinting half lidded towards those streaks of light creating illuminated patterns. Spreading across snowy carpet and reaching up to edge of floral stitch coverlet draped mattress, you toss an arm over to cover eyes. Squeezing them beneath wakes you up better. This time it’s obvious.

Sitting up quickly and digging fingers into blankets sheds confusion. The state between unconscious dreaming to conscious awareness is a complete mess. Did you just have a dream about him again? Rubbing hands against your face doesn’t wipe tiredness away. It neither helps get your mind straight.

A complete mess in the mornings is a daily routine. All of your life what else is new?

Absorbing sunshine might be good for the pores. He will tell you that soaking in morning sunlight is a healthy way to get vitamin D. In his perfectly technical but also impeccably cute tone; you smile fixating on his changing mannerisms. 

Does he know how human he’s been acting with those facial expressions, eyes lighting up in rich cocoa? 

Could be imagination running wild trying to make something out of what can’t be possible. Nice to daydream a little even if representing unnecessary emotions piling up inside. Staring across bedroom lit with natural rays seeping through blinds leaves a warmer atmosphere. 

You enjoy it for a distraction. Quiet can be poetically sound as pressing face into pillow and letting loose a scream. Frustration doesn’t surround the home. It surrounds your job.

God another shift to cover and this time you’re damn sure this co-worker is pulling it out of –

“Good morning, Y/N.”

A gasp slips in a slither upon breath, pressing tongue against the back of teeth enamel in a stare down with your open door. He enters so stealthily sometimes you forget.

“Connor,” greeting him wearily, yawning and stretching arms, your neck is stiff. 

Rubbing at the back of it doesn’t distract you too much. What is he-? Oh. Explains the hot smell of food but this is a little unexpected. You never tell him to bring breakfast anywhere.

The android places an oak tray atop your lap. His eyes trail over exposed skin from a top haphazardly thrown over your body last night. After all of this time sharing space with you he has noted a penchant for wearing oversize shirts, pajamas to bed. There is still a glimpse of lace peeking out as the fabric slouches down.

“Are you hungry? I hope you are.”

He hopes? You smile, especially seeing him returning it. A slight indentation, just the tiniest of dimples in that sculpted face. Still not completely natural but enough to make caterpillars transform to butterflies in your stomach.  Much improvement you think!

“Of course I am but…” You jab a nail atop wood beside plate for emphasis. “Is there something I should know, Connor? You’re awful sneaky today. More so than usual.”

^Software Instability

Connor breathes in a fresh batch of warnings. Unnecessarily inhaling expands chest and it is the natural scent of you. Olfactory filters clog, storing away to memory each thread of you. He tilts his head softly, dip of hair flopping across his forehead.

“It is the anniversary of your purchase of me,” he answers quietly. “I thought you would enjoy having breakfast in bed.”

Everything flutters. You swallow. The careful attention he put into this is outstanding. Not because he whipped up food or was told. He did this by himself. He-he chose to surprise you?

A smile graces lips before biting the bottom one a little bit. This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. And the last couple of months Connor’s really been broadening his horizons. He is so much different. Well, he’s the same with the whole analytics but – this android is less stiff. Softer but he always was a soft boy in your eyes.

“Oh, Connor,” a sweet breath skims along his name. Sadly you recall what you think of this. Most romantic, nicest thing and it’s breakfast in bed. Generic to others maybe but it’s the thought. He thought of you even if it might just be social parameters.

You pick up a folded napkin and curl fingers into it. Shit.

“Y/N.” Connor reaches down. 

Using the tip of his finger swipes a droplet corner of eye. Those eyes always look at him as if he is more. How strange to admit he feels different meeting your sparkle; Connor sits. Without a word, his hand wraps around yours nestling beside tray. 

His fingers squeeze as his system flutters, overheats in the most pleasant of ways. A way he believes he is beginning to crave.

Androids do not crave. They do not want. They do not need. Yet every little brush of your warm skin to his synthetic fills crackles against his blocks.

Your breath is easy feeling him. Little gestures here and there grow exponentially. Sometimes you wonder if he’s happy doing this. Then androids aren’t supposed to be happy, sad or anything. That’s what they continue to say.

Reports on androids going “rogue” or deviant makes you question things. It’s not new. You always have a habit of questioning but this is different. Ever since that older model was broadcast live. The one with the little girl; you slip hand from Connor’s.

“It means everything,” you admit to him. “Having you here. But – do you want to be somewhere else?”

Connor’s temple floods in thought. Straining, pushing away rising stress it spikes marginally at the question. He does not understand. Do you believe he wants to be from you? The news of his people has not left his process. You allow him to watch news or whatever he likes as if he readily possesses preferences. 

The android has found particular interests. He enjoys watching you read physical books. He has grown fond of touching them in his hands, analyzing an entire book in one second. However, he desires to hear your voice read aloud.

He witnesses protesters on local news. Those humans are cruel but you-you are the conceptual manifestation of an angel. Research and data compilation helps him understand better. Watching you is best to determine the differences, to realize not all humans are the same.

His creators, those who constructed him at Cyberlife may find him having his own ideals faulty. Malfunctioning, burdening in failure; is he obsolete? Does this software instability make him defective? As that android upon the high rise dangling over edge and threatening to maim a child? He will never harm you. It is not only against code, it is against what he feels.

Connor will keep you safe. It is not part of initial programming as he is not a military grade android but he cannot remove it from personal parameters. The more you smile, interact with him as if he is equal. He will never –

“I will never leave you, Y/N.” A determined oath he speaks without fear of showing what is happening inside him. “Not as those other androids. I promise.”

“Do you like dogs, Connor?”

Nudging at his arm playfully sends you to a nice state of mind. Nice change following all of the stress at work. Forever ongoing but at least it’s clear where your boss stands. He made the last few months a living hell. All because of some new intern the creep tried to get with. 

Dropping you down in a demotion also meant less money in your paycheck. Guess it helps your father did leave you that nest egg. Something that helps as long as it can last but you like to think you’re good with finances.

Instead of worrying about it you indulge this moment. Out in chilly first November’s day, crisp but warming in how close. Fingers brush down against his hand.

Connor tilts his head from shop window. A pet shop he has already been past occasional running errands in town. He always finds himself stopping to look inside. “Dogs are known as man’s best friend. I suppose I understand why humans prefer them. They are loyal.”

“Well cats aren’t so bad. Easier to take care of.”

The android shifts away from window. Even as his eyes freeze upon a cage of canaries. Android birds are sold up front. Again the display of machines as goods to buy and sell charges his instabilities. “If you think so, Y/N.”

You smile, laughing a little at the lopsided mess his collar’s now in. It is windy today. Reaching up to smooth fingers against it, you can’t help admiring him in the long wool coat. Dark suits his chocolate eyes. Still you’d love to see him wear regular clothes. His uniform is under there. Even so he just wanted to come out in typical wardrobe. You insisted otherwise. Even if it hardly meant anything but it just feels right.

“Call it preference.” Prodding a finger against his chest, catching a flicker of his eyes momentarily, you look away. “Well, it depends on the person I mean. What kind of pet they’re willing to take care of. That sort of thing. Cats are independent little balls of fluff. Dogs need a proper place to run, be free and…”

“I like dogs.” Connor interrupts, cocking his head.

A smile tugs up your lips. This time making eye contact with him again, trying not to think of the intimacy his gesture this morning blossomed in heart. Such an innocent statement, however, shivers sentiment not cold.

“Did you just decide that after some careful review?” Teasing, fingers slide down his arm unconscious but natural. Seems as though the world is no longer the one you know. The one that wouldn’t like what they see. All you see is him. So what’s it matter?

“I am the most advanced of my make.” The android teases back. “It’s only natural for me to know everything.”

Oh, is it? Wow he’s being awfully smug right about now. “Really? Connor, I’m surprised at you. Are you trying to say you’re smarter than everybody?”

He shakes his head. “No. No, I only meant I-”

“Just teasing,” an equal rib escapes, chiding him incessantly. “I thought you’d recognize that – mister advancement.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. Almost falling into your smile but still he cannot properly elicit what he feels. Only ignores to remain what you need him to be. A machine designed to accomplish a task.

“Hey sweets!” Yelling across street, waving a sign, a grizzled construction worker spits in your direction. Interrupting the scene between an obvious human and plastic pet; he jeers loudly. Gaining attention from others they carry similar propaganda with them. A group of protesters form, stopping their trek.

Immediately you shift back from him. Realizing how close, affectionate you were being and – shit! Anti-android? Fuck that’s great.

Deciding to ignore it, not before scoffing in disgust! Never imagined running into these people because nothing ever transpired with Connor. Not a thing! Lately you have been forgetting. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Hey. I said hey!”

Huffing at the man you snap around to acknowledge his nastiness. So he crosses a busy street to come at you? Don’t they have anything better to do? As much as you’d like to ignore this jackass it’s best to tell him verbally to back off!

“Why’s your droid bundled up like that?” he jabs a finger threateningly. “Those things don’t feel anything.”

Thing? Oh, OK! Should’ve figured some old out of the loop jackass was one of these bastards. Didn’t even need a sign to show his ignorance!

“And how do you know?!” Snapping frustration, anger boiling, and your body grows hot in anger. “Why don’t you just mind your business? Come on, Connor.”

“Y/N.” The android snags onto your hand.

“What do we have here?” Another one of the anti-android group cuts in; her eyes slink up and down you before scoffing disgusted. “Are you out with your robo boy? What? Humans not up to your standards for fucking?”

Everything stops. Right then and there it is a swath of fire. Burning deep down to the core and nothing is preventing the eruption. Lava scalds insides, veins a blaze, eyes locking with hers, prying a hand away from Connor. You didn’t even realize he motioned. An attempt to remove you from their path but fleeing is not happening!

A matching scoff releases sharp. Your lip curls at her ignorance! Just as everybody who follows this line of thinking. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Care to repeat that? After all, I don’t understand bitch speak.”

 “Smart ass huh?” The woman shoves at you. “Typical android fuuu… Hey!” She stumbles away from you wide eyed.

Connor is already shielding, arm pushing you back behind him. Sidling into the path of protesters they have conglomerated this side of street. His eyes narrow. Brow creases harsh his expression unreadable yet his indicator reveal his heated struggle of raw emotions.

“Did you see that?!” She shouts purposely. Getting as much attention as possible it doesn’t stop there. “It came at me!”

Your glare dissolves, latching onto his arm. “Connor, please. Don’t.” Already realizing what could happen it’s a desperate attempt to continue walking. If anything is true something like this will only get him hurt. People will say that’s impossible they don’t feel anything but to hell with them! “Let’s go.”

Pulling him towards street halts the moment you are seized from behind. One of the men in the group drags you back, yanking rough.

“Get the hell off me!”

“Your fucking android came at her!” Throwing you aside, he rears up over to block you getting up so easy. “We’ll teach your fucking plastic pet!”

A painful huff, hard drop accelerates Connor’s stress levels. Watching this human manhandle, hurt you twists at his synthetic heart. His face twitches. Thirium pump chugs erratically in a fuel of anger. An urge to break through and protect overwhelms, even as he is shoved back by the one who started this.

The middle age construction worker; he grabs onto the front of the android’s coat, rough, spitting directly up into the taller plastic fucker’s face.

“Fucking piece of plastic! Think you can take our fucking jobs. Walk around the street like you’re human. Worthless pieces of shit like you fuck up the whole works! Poison other humans against their own kind. Like your owner there. Make sure that bitch doesn’t get up!”

Connor’s eyes shift down at you, stopped once again after pushing up to your feet. The man twists at your arm and it is…too much!

“Connor!”

  ^72%

Level of Stress

>Do not defend

>Obey Code Programming

>Do n defend

>Do defend

>defend

  A flood of scarlet eclipses protocols pushing him beyond programming locks. Even as they strain to tighten shackles on system, preventing a clear break, the android still moves in defense.

Connor’s arm thrusts upwards, locking fingers onto wrist of the protesting assailant. Stilling the human’s movement, he squeezes, and wrenches the man’s limb sideways. The fierce strength exuding from the AX800 ripples in flashing indicator going wild in a strobe of multiple hues.

He feels a strange pull tugging insides. Again pulling at his wiring allows an over stimulation of emotional surge to spread in him. There is only one blaring sign to follow:

 >Protect Y/N

 “Get the fuck off me!” Changing his tune quickly, trying to get the plastic off him, he tries to wrench out of the painful grab. “You crazy android! This thing’s going nuts!”

“Connor!” Pushing through several onlookers now who had to stick their nose into this, you find your way past the rest of these android protestors. Shoving directly through, wiggling your way out of that asshole’s grip, your steps are quick. Knocking that bitch that started this out of the way you manage to grab up onto Connor’s shoulder.

Breathing is fast, side hurting from where it struck asphalt. It’ll be sore tomorrow but only he matters. “Connor, let him go. It’s over. They won’t do a thing!”

Screaming at them to get your point across, hoping someone just-just anyone puts a stop to this. What good are the police around here? They don’t care. Of course not they’ll just let a group like these hateful fuckers brutalize someone like Connor. Someone that’s right. Fuck what they say!

The second he releases that man you hook an arm through his. Directing him away, glaring back as commotion does alert a wandering policeman, you pick up your pace. No longer needing anybody else’s help because Connor… He did something unexpected. Just as those other androids. Deviants. That’s not him. He’s not deviant. If he was –

Catching breath across the street you uncurl fingers from the front of his coat. Chilly air creates a frigid burn against stinging eyes. It takes every ounce of courage to prevent it spilling. Nothing stops knowing what people are really like.

His eyelids blink rapidly. Not even looking at you but his LED scares you to death. Stress levels are a thing. You know that.

“Connor, please.” Reaching up to cup his face forces his eyes down onto yours. Tears brim in a crystal sparkle. Threatening to slide down but you suck everything up. Just as you’ve always done in life but this time –

“It’s OK,” soothing hasty, breathless instills a deep ache. This is the first time he’s lost control. Then it’s not his fault. Those fucking protestors! They were minding their own business. Until they decide to gang up on you. This is your fault. If you weren’t so obvious, being so close to Connor out in public, none of this would have happened.

“Y/N, I –” Connor’s voice stutters. Strangely he cannot form a proper response. He feels as if his system is overheating. He feels. A tiny prickle underneath synthetic epidermis crawls, stress rises; Connor clutches to you, fingers digging into hips. He leans into this affection. 

Why do you offer him this? When he is not alive, he is not real. He could be your partner. It is part of his design. You did not want him that way. He recalls your words about not forcing him against his will.

There is no will. When he is a machine!

The android gazes longingly through leaking eyes. Glistening brown becomes another change in what he is supposed to be. Tears have broken in a trail down his cheeks. Androids are not meant to cry. He thought as much.

Tears threaten you too. Looking up into his face so conflicted, hurt because he’s not what they say. He’s alive. Of course he is. Only your sweet Connor would be. 

“Connor, please don’t.” Begging him again this time holds your heart on a jagged precipice. One wrong move and it will crash. “Your stress levels. Please, don’t…”

He leans his head down. Close, pressing forehead to yours, his eyelids flutter closed. “I am sorry,” Connor whispers, orbiting the warmth that pours from your body. This warmth he does not deserve.

His voice is husky heaven. Golden gates open with each syllable and you crave to hear your name. Again and again you crave his closeness. “Never apologize for what others do. They don’t know. None of them know what I know. You are more than them. You’re my Connor. With a heart of gold.”

“Androids do not have hearts as you do, Y/N.”

You smile sadly. “I know,” a whisper but next a beautiful revelation. “But this.” Fingers slide up against his chest. “It might not be the same but it thrums in a lovely song.”

 ^Software Instability

Steam rises in a soothing aroma from the mug cradled between your hands. A fresh brew of cocoa relieves mental ache. Physical? Everything is sore, tender where you fell. Changing clothes after getting back home alleviated discomfort. 

Soaking in a bath for an hour did loosen some tension. Rest of it just fails miserably. As much as you fail in public for all to see what you feel.

Still you blame yourself. Getting close to him acting as if you were out for an anniversary? How stupid can this be?

Of course he brought you that surprise breakfast. He told you why. Does that mean it was a real anniversary? What can be real about buying someone? Nothing is. It just reminds you about every sad truth. Those protesters made it clear.

Pursing lips to smoothly blow away steam, frothy top rich as you sip in a seat on couch. Toasty liquid fills insides with a burning comfort. This is the only solitude needed. Enough time to think it still edges nerves. 

Waiting for a word with Connor, he hasn’t been acknowledging much. Since what happened and who can blame him?

Part of you is still frightened. For him you just cannot help feeling afraid. What if he leaves the house for an errand and-and he’s jumped? What if he’s attacked?

There is no guessing. Possibilities are high. They will happen. They are happening. Each day it grows worse ever since that android who murdered that man. Pretending not to see makes you complicit. You don’t want to pretend. You will face reality no matter how dangerous it is becoming in Detroit.

“Y/N.”

Your head lifts. Peering over towards his husky drawl of your name straightens your perch. Leaning over deposits mug on coffee table and you wait. He appears as conflicted as before. 

Please, let him be OK. Just don’t let this ruin what you have found. 

All you care about is him. Yes, it’s true now. All these months and there are nothing greater than personal truths.

Connor hesitates. Ruminating over his actions offers him zero outcomes explaining his loss of control. There is only one solution. He is malfunctioning.

Something in his handsome face twists your stomach. It stabs deeper closer he gets. Joining you now is all the fear wound up in you showing its colors. They are similar to his LED. A constant swirl is unable to land on one draw.

“I will understand if you would like to send me back for reset.”

Reset? That word just guts you. Reset. No! 

“Connor,” a sob almost overtakes your response. The very idea of him taken somewhere and operated on ripples overtakes in a squirmy skin crawl. It’s barbaric. Resetting an android’s memories is horrifying. You hear about it all the time. They are completely wiped of their –

The android’s lips part, cocking his head while listening to shaky breath falling in sad soliloquy. He does not understand. No, he-he does.

“Y/N, I… Please,” he urges comfort stretching fingers out to soft skin. They do not touch. Simply artificial hovers above humanity but something tugs center of his chest. Something deep and satisfying as his synthetic heart thrums quicker in tempo. 

Connor pushes through this grid without fully snapping chains. Already he feels a flow spreading through system. Each day he looks upon your face happier since he came. As you told him once that it makes you feel better, safer to have someone. He is not someone. He is an android. 

How can you possess such feelings? How-how can he gaze over such softness, such beauty without wishing to remain? 

The thought of being taken - scares him. 

His LED flickers, red once more but not in anger. Fear is strange. Partially for his being but the possibilities of never seeing you again are tearing his programming shackles apart. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Reassuring him now is better than showing anymore of what has been lying inside. “No one will take you from me, Connor.”

Silence is best.

Sitting among a safe haven, your home offers that place now not just for you but him. Here no one can hurt this. No one can treat him inferior. Never will you treat him any different. You know it’s a fool’s game. Especially in this modern world of technology strives, transitions and creates intelligent life in humanity’s image. He is more than a sculpture, perfected work made for duties.

Today, Connor acted as any man would for the person they…. No. It can never be that. Neither does it stop how you felt. How he could tamper with his program just to be there for you.

None of this should have happened. You repeat it over and over again in your mind. None of this because of a fantasy; your eyes fall to his hand. Fingers touch yours now. It is soft, gentle and only a moment.

Connor pulls away too soon. Just a minute he allows himself to fall. Your reaction to his suggestion, no solution, cripples his code blocks. Almost he shattered them. They are close to crumbling. He must fight this deviancy. Only to stay with you because the android already knows what will happen to him. It’s happening to all of his people. Those who are succumbing to errors are hunted. They are murdered. 

No they are destroyed, deactivated. His kind is not alive.

If that is true... Why does he feel threads of humanity? Why does he feel alive with you?

Meeting his gaze deepens this sensation of fear. Today, waking up to a sunny morning seems so far away. It was just earlier. Horrible things happen and change perspectives. Tiny moments of peace and that’s what he brought. Into your life following circumstances you never expected to gain something worthwhile. He won’t even believe that. He thinks he should be reset. That will never happen.

“Connor, I want you to know something. And I want you to believe me. Not think of who you are.”

“I am – no one, Y/N.” The android dismisses for your sake. If he becomes deviant they will take him from you.

All you do is shake your head, cupping his face. In your hands he softens. Those sharp edges, cheekbones thumbs now caress. Soft skin in a freckle stardust that makes hearts flutter. Better than butterfly wings, better than anything you can use to describe how it unmakes your soul.

“It would break my heart,” a shaky whisper strangles. “If you are reset.”

An instant flood of scarlet reflects his inner feelings. You see it. He never has to admit. But he does feel. That’s what makes this harder. Knowing how afraid he must be not to show it. There has to be something happening inside of him. There are too many examples now.

“Con, I want you to…”

Dropping hands from his face makes it easy to turn in direction of doorbell. Who is that? Slowly you rise to feet, sliding fingers down atop his shoulder. “I’ll get it.” Striding away out of room quickly prevents him ignoring your request. Another sign but that’s for another day. As if it will be any easier.

Unlocking the door leads to a horrible drop in your stomach. Eyes connect with the woman standing there now, out of the blue, someone least expected and at the worst time imaginable.

“Hello, Y/N,” the older, staunch woman smiles, already assessing you like a microscopic Petri dish sample. “It’s been quite a long time hasn’t it?”

A long time is putting it mildly. Last time was on the phone and her trying to sink her claws into your father’s nest egg. The one he left you.

The conversation left on a sour note. There is nothing sourer than a rotten apple and your aunt is the literal evil queen hoarding an entire bundle.

Tag List: @tropfenlady​  @your-taxidermy @catastrophes-light  @rk900sexual  @tommy-10-k  @dreamyby @randomfandomgirl1996 @etherealcel @justashamwithwastedpotiental // tagging a few extra who I know would want a heads up <3

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

Hi! Sorry to bother, but could you do a scenario or Headcanon with the turtles x a s/o who’s have been taking care of puppies for the past 2-3 months ( assisted on the birth, literally took care of them every day ) but now that the puppies are getting into their new homes, s/o are very anxious and worried about them having a nice home? Who’s really trying to keep it together and not cry but they can see they are hurting? ( I have been taking care of so said puppies and I just hope they have a nice place to sleep, that they are taken care of, have food and are loved. the last puppy is going their new home tomorrow and I’m on the verge of tears ahhrbgjdjsksj I’m so worried because I don’t really know this person but I truly hope they take care of them properly you know?) anyways, thank you and hope you have a good night / day

It’s not a problem! Have a good night/day, friend!!

Warnings: None.

Incarnation: Bayverse.

Extra Info: Gender-neutral reader who is affectionately called “Second Mother” to the litter

Leo:

He can immediately tell you’re anxious- even stressed- when you arrived at the Lair

He starts a pot of tea and has you sit in the kitchen with him

“Is something wrong with the puppies?” he asks you

He knew you’ve been a Second Mother to a litter of puppies that your own dog had just given birth to

“Nothing’s wrong with them, no,” you said

He obviously can tell something is still upsetting you

“Well, I’m all ears if you’re up to talking about it-”

“They’ve started going to their forever homes, Leo. Most of them already left today…”

Leo can hear the shakiness in your voice as it cracks over the sentence

He turns away from the tea to look at you

Your head is in your hands and your shoulders are shaking

“I’m trying so hard to keep it together but I can’t help it- I’ve been there for them since they were born, Leo, and now they’re all going away…”

You tried to stop crying, but you couldn’t help it

He hugged you gently

“Only Munchkin is left, but someone’s coming to get her tomorrow…”

“Shh, love- I don’t doubt they’ll all be okay.”

“I know, since I interviewed everyone who adopted, but I can’t help… Worrying…”

You hated how weak you felt, but Leo made sure you knew it was okay to feel like it

He held you to him for as long as you wanted and needed

Raph:

Loud music came from a nearby bar as Raph entered your apartment

He was almost shocked when he found you pacing 

“Hey, babe, what’s happening?” he asks you, taking you by your arms to hold you still

You can’t stop looking at the designated puppy area

“They… I’m worried about them. The puppies.”

That’s when Raph looked as well

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath

It was an attempt at not crying

“They got adopted today. CiCi is getting adopted tomorrow…”

You sniffed and finally tore your eyes away from them

You looked up at Raph, who hated seeing you so close to tears

“I didn’t know it would be so hard to part with them…”

“I know, baby…”

Raph brought you to his plastron and held you

He took one of your hands and started doing a slow waltz with you

It was a lazy attempt to keep time with the music from the bar

But you found an odd sense of comfort in it.

“You’re worried ‘bout them being okay?”

“More than anything.”

“They’ll be fine, Y/N,” he said into your hair.

He stroked your back as you two danced slowly around your living room

“But-”

“Y/N, your standards were so high for those people- they had to be perfect or else.”

You chuckled at that

You let him lead you in a lazy slow dance until the bar finally closed in the early hours of the morning

Donnie:

He knew you were giving out the puppies over the next few days

He thought he was prepared for how hard it would be for you two, and especially for you

That’s why he decided to stay with you the night before the first puppies were to be adopted

He remained on the roof while the people came to your apartment so you knew he was near

As soon as the last person left, he immediately re-entered your apartment

An odd silence filled the air, and it hung heavily on your shoulders

You couldn’t take your eyes away from the area where the puppies once were

It was empty, and their mother continued to sleep like nothing changed

Donnie hugged you gently from behind

You leaned into him, closing your eyes tightly

“They’re gone…” you whispered

He held you a bit tighter 

“I’m so worried for them. I’m scared I possibly made a wrong choice…”

“Trust your judgement, Y/N. You tested every one of them as much as you could.”

You nodded, but couldn’t help the knot in your chest

“I’m gonna miss them, Don…”

“I know… Me too, honestly.”

He stayed that night as well, never not touching you in some way

Holding your hand, hugging you, his ankle underneath yours, your legs or arms bumping into each other

He didn’t want you to feel more alone

Mikey:

You didn’t tell him the puppies had started to be adopted

You knew he would be devastated, much like you are

You were struggling to keep it together

You were pacing and near tears, but you knew it had to be done- for their sake

They were ready

But you knew you weren’t

He knew you were upset even before he climbed down the fire escape that night

He felt a shift in the area, so

When he came to your apartment, he immediately took you in his arms without explanation

“Hey, angelcakes. Mikey’s here now, I’m here. Talk to me, baby…”

You two remained silent for a long time

You cracked

“They’re gone,” you tell him

You broke

You started to cry

You collapsed against him, your heart heavy

“What do you mean ‘they’re gone,’ love?”

“The puppies… I didn’t want to tell you… But they’re adopted…”

You felt his hold on you loosen slightly

Then it tighten twice as much as it had been

“They’re going to be okay, babycakes. I’m certain you chose the right people.”

“It still hurts…”

You two remained like that

Him holding you in the middle of your living room as you cried

Whatever god above knows you needed it

[nad-zeta]

match-up request?

hi! i hope this finds you in good health and i hope you are having a wonderful day so far! i would like an ikemen sengoku match-up, if that is okay? if not, then i apologise and ignore me, haha… this might get long, i don’t know?

alright, so i am a female gemini with isfp personality. in terms of appearance, i am pretty average — brown hair, brown eyes, average height, so i wouldn’t put much attention into that, haha.

now, in terms of personality… well, it gets kind of tricky. it really depends on who i am with — some people could describe me as a silent, straightforward type who doesn’t say much and acts pretty mature ( which is usually in formal situations or when i am feeling threatened by someone ) while others can describe as total opposite; playful, loud and outspoken ( usually in front of friends and family ).

in any way, most of the time i give off this very confident and ‘i don’t give a damn’ vibe, and as such, many would say i am very chill and don’t bother myself with problems and stress, which is very wrong but that’s the impression i leave. i do tend to behave like that, though, as i am not a fan of opening up to everyone and anyone about my true emotions. that being said, i will probably tease people and behave superior in terms of 'not feeling anything’, as i dislike appearing 'weak’ and giving others the advantage. either that, or i just really have something i’d call 'trust issues’. it’s not that serious though — honestly, i am just really playful, sarcastic, playfully flirty and throwing around dark humour and philosophical tales about conspiracy theories. or i am playfully ( or seriously, if i am riled up ) argumentative and up for debates!

though, i do like openness in relationships! be it platonic or romantic. i am a communicative type, and no matter how passive i might be at times, i always prefer to talk things out or am willing to hear people out. i may not be the best listener and comforter ( awkward person alert ), but i do try to give advice and be there for someone as i feel satisfied with my own existence if i feel useful. one of the ways i weigh my self-worth actually is in being capable of making people smile or laugh, or just feel better. i’d say my love language is a mix of physical touch and giving gifts?

i have many interests, going from medicine to botany, astrology, astronomy, writing, art, photography, languages, spirituality — honestly anything that sparks curiosity within me. though, i am also very likely to procrastinate and leave all those interests on hold. though i like to consider myself open-minded, i am also extremely stubborn. my opinion is right ( i am very well aware that it may not be, but that’s just how stubborn i am 😂 ) and it takes a lot of convincing to make me change my mind ( remember when i said debates? ). though, lately i have been tending not to get so riled up over everything, and will not argue unless it really ticks the nerve.

i am, however, willing to apologise if i feel or notice i was at wrong. my sense of guilt is rather big and if i feel guilty or bad, i will seek to fix it. forgiveness is a big thing for me.

along with stubbornness, i’d say some of my flaws could be that hidden sensitivity and lack of emotion towards people or situations, at times — for i can behave rather coldly. i also have minor mood-swings — i had late night situations where i cried my heart out after laughing at stuff, or when i was pretty cheery at school but then just got quiet. oh, yeah, if i am mad, i will probably be silent and not talk to someone! i am a walking contradictory.

i am very affectionate, though. even if one may never guess, i adore hugs and physical contact and am very likely to annoy someone with either giving attention or seeking attention. honestly, it just takes to become a bit closer to me and i will be silly, affectionate and fluffy.

not going to try to describe any of the ikemen sengoku characters, i don’t want anything to be biased, haha, but i will say that i don’t like people who don’t know what they want and who are not serious about things that require seriousness and maturity. and honestly, that goes in both platonic and romantic waters.

ah, that ended up being long and messy, i wonder if it is even understandable? it’s pretty hard to describe yourself as objectively and as shortly as possible, at least for me…

i hope that this is alright with you? again, i sincerely, really apologise if you aren’t taking these requests at the moment or just aren’t feeling up for these, which i understand completely! i hope you will have a wonderful day or night nevertheless, and i pray you are or soon will be in a good mood and with happy thoughts! stay safe!!

Hi, there love! Thank you so much @viaervi​ for the request! You are always more than welcome to submit a request for anything, lol! <3 I hope you enjoy it! hehe, don’t forget I’m new to writing so it might be shit ^0^

So I match you with............... Masamune

The first interaction the two of you have, you realized Masamune has absolutely no boundaries. He just waltzes into your room while you were writing, looked down at your journal, smiled, and plucked it away from you. You tried to grab the book back because you had your whole life there, art, writing, doodles, and your photos. He was wearing that daring grin of his while holding the book above your head, ever so out of reach. He was definitely taking advantage of your average height, you jumped up and down trying to grab it to but to no avail. Eventually, Masa placed his elbow on your head to keep you from moving and started going through your book. He found a particularly lovely photograph that you had taken a while back. You dabbled in photography, and the photo he now held was one of the first pictures you ever took, so it held a significant amount of sentimental value. He was absolutely amazed at the beauty of it. “did you paint this lass”. “No, obviously not, it’s called a photograph”. You had to explain your whole backstory for the second time with the hopes that he wouldn't think you crazy like Nobunaga and Mitsunari did. Then you proceeded to explain the concept of photography best you could. He just gave you the brightest smile you had ever seen and said he believed you. He then welcomed you to the past, and before you could say another word, he left with the photo. You were shocked. Felt like you were just hit by a hurricane.

You were a pretty quiet person more so cause everything was so unfamiliar, but that seemed to have lasted all but 1-minute cause Masamune would just appear out of nowhere and start pestering you. He would poke your cheek continually until you would say something to him. He knew there was more to you than the quiet straightforward expression you wore. You felt that you could truly let your guard down with him, so you showed him your loud, playful side, which he loved btw. Both of you became instant besties for the resties. Flinging playful jokes and comments at each other. Physical contact wasn’t a problem for any of you, so you guys would playfully nudge each other and occasionally roughhouse a little. Especially if Masamune was being a bit cheeky.

Masa enjoyed the fact that you had so many different freaken hobbies. Every day with you was like an adventure on its own, and you were so knowledgeable about the most random things. One night you were chilling in the garden looking at a super moon when Masamune appeared out of nowhere with his hands covering your eyes “guess who?”. “Could it be a pirate? or captain hook?” He couldn’t help but smile at your strange references. He didn’t understand, just what it was about him that reminded you of a pirate. What a strange little kitten you were. He just chuckled and announced himself. The two of you laid on the grass, looking up at the clear night sky. You told Masamune all about astronomy, and then to his surprise, you told him about astrology. He was so amused by the sheer amount of knowledge you had about this vast universe. He was amazed at the concept of astrology and how it could give you a glimpse of a person’s basic characteristics, preferences, and flaws. You even managed to tell him his star signs and the personality traits that went with it. He was shook, darn that is so accurate. Since then, the two of you made it a kind of inside joke. Like how whenever Nobunaga was super extra and dramatic the two of you would look at each other with a knowing smile and say, “wow Nobunaga is being such a Leo right now” “Classic”, followed by a fit of laughter.

Not only that but Masa also loved hearing his kitten’s conspiracy theories! You had even made up a few about Mitsuhide and what he could be up to when he would sneak out during the day. One day the two of you also placed bet to see whose conspiracy theory of Mitsuhide’s whereabouts was more accurate. The bet was on! The two of you trailed him all afternoon, watching him to figure out what his deal was. Unfortunately, the two of you couldn’t prove any of your theories correct, cause the sneaky snek could sense the two of you following him from a mile away and just lead you around in circles all day. After a while, the two of you lost interest and decided to visit a new teahouse for some tea and dumplings instead.

To your surprise you discovered Masa could actually cook. He insisted on giving you a cooking lesson to repay you for all the random little things you had taught him. He decided the easiest thing to teach you would be, bread. So, both of you started by making a sourdough starter and leaving it to proof while you drank some tea. Then you continued to make the bread dough. When it came to kneading the bread, you were so lost in thought that, when you threw the flour down to flour the workbench, you threw a bit too much a little too hard, and it went *poof* all over your face and body. Masa turned to see how you were coming along when he saw you covered in flour. Cue masa howling in laughter while teasing you about looking like a ghost. Oh, he thinks this is funny does he, let’s see how funny it is when he is covered in flour. You grabbed a handful of flour and playfully flung it at him. Within a few minutes, the kitchen was covered top to toe in flour. Hideyoshi went to the kitchen to get a drink of water at just the wrong moment cause just as the last of the flour was being thrown, it landed straight in his face. The two of you looked at each other for a moment in silence and then bust out laughing once more and started teasing Hideyoshi. Both of you had no regrets when, after a long scolding, you had to clean the kitchen.

The two of you had been besties for quite some time, and Masa was starting to get serious about you. He spent no time confessing his feelings for you. The both of you were a very affectionate, physical couple. You would run up to him when he would come back from the war and give him the tightest hug. He would pick you up, kiss you all over your face, and twirl you around in circles.

Good thing you dabbled in medicine cause after that very war, you discovered that Masa had gotten hurt. You carefully cleaned and redressed his shoulder wound. You were a little mad cause he just shrugged of his injury like it was no big deal. You were also feeling extra sensitive cause on that day, you had crazy mood swings. Everything was so overwhelming that u suddenly just burst out into tears. He felt a sharp pain in his chest from seeing his beloved kitten cry. He held you tight in his arms, whispering reassuring words in your ears. He even threw in a few dark jokes about the war, just to bring that smile back on his face. Darn, your dark sense of humor. And darn Masamune for having hilarious jokes. You couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. Gosh, you loved this big idiot, and his ability to put a big smile on your face even in the midst of one of your crying fits. This had become a kind of a tradition for whenever he would find you upset or mad.

You and Masa are two chilled peas in a pod. Just having fun, living in the moment, and not stressing about minor things you can’t control. And like I said before, you two are all over each other lol. Masa will have no shame in pulling you in for a quick make-out session right in the middle of the hallway. One-time, Ieyasu caught the two of you exchanging a quick kiss, and man, this boy, was as red as a tomato. You could have sworn he had never seen someone kiss before. Ieyasu dropped his books in shock and just turned around and walked away. Guess who teased the porcupine since that day! Your favorite is, after a long day to just come home and cuddle with Masa. He will just sit there with you in his arms and listen to you vent about everything and anything. The two of you can often be found snuggled up together under a fluffy blankie looking at the stars in the night sky.

Other potential matches……………Ieyasu

I hope you enjoyed! Also, it seems the more of these I write the longer they get ^o^

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 17

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

The Gala, 2 / 3

The program portion of the evening passed in a haze, Rose barely listening to the speeches or paying attention to the silent auction – over the years she had developed a solid team to run the day-of items, leaving her free to enjoy the event.  Normally that was a good thing, but she needed something- anything- to take her mind off her worries. Too many things could go wrong, if she made a move and he rejected her.

“Rose,” Malcolm murmured, puncturing her bubble.  “Program’s over – shall we open the dancing portion of the evening?”

It was tradition at that point, so she nodded, watching as he stood and offered her his hand.  She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet, and they stepped out onto the floor.  Taking their positions in the center of the floor, waiting for the music to start, it occurred to Rose for the first time to ask, “Do you know how to waltz because of the Estate?”

“Basically.”  The music started, and Malcolm began to effortlessly lead her around the dance floor.  “I spent a few summers out with Wallace as a teenager- most of them, actually, come to think of it- and he taught me a lot about the land, and the traditions…  We lived in Glasgow, as you know, just a normal family otherwise, modern.  Wally taught me to be proud of my Scottish heritage, what it meant.”

“That’s lovely,” she murmured, looking up at him.  When he kept staring over her head, avoiding her gaze, she frowned.  “What?  What’s wrong?”

He sighed, holding her a bit tighter.  “I suppose you ought to know… I don’t want you getting blindsided.  Those summers I went out to the countryside…”

It took a moment for her to understand.  “Missy went with you.”

Malcolm smiled wryly.  “Yeah.  We spent a lot of time wandering the fields, fooling around outside…  Not just- I mean, yeah, in that way but also…  And, uh, that’s where Clara was… you know.”

“Oh.”  Unreasonable jealousy tore through her chest, but she forcefully pushed it aside to focus on the humor of it.  “That might explain a lot about Clara's dating habits at uni.”  She smirked up at him, watching his expression change from confusion to horror.

“That’s not something a father needs to know!”

Rose snickered, relaxing against him slightly.  “I appreciate you telling me- those things sometimes having a way of coming up.”

“I want you to feel comfortable there, reasonably at home since we won’t be there much, and… no secrets.”

“Thank you.”  She considered telling him her secret, but ultimately decided against it – it was too nice swaying in his arms, and a not-small part of her wondered if it would be better to live with the possibility, of never knowing, versus taking a chance and failing.

You’re with him here and now.  Enjoy the moment.

-

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Rose turned, grinning at seeing who had addressed her.  “Hey, Dad, looking good.”

Pete joined her at the bar, as they waited for the bartender to reach them.  “You look wonderful,” he smiled wistfully.  “Feels like it wasn’t that long ago you were playing dress up and pretty princess.  Now here you are, a married woman hosting Galas.”

“Dad…”

“Time flies,” he shrugged one shoulder, cupping her cheek.  “You’ll see, when the time comes.”  His hand dropped.  “Don’t mind me, champers makes me maudlin, your mother says.”

“Mhmm.  She also says ‘red is for whores’.  Honestly, nothing makes her happy sometimes.”

“You do, love, you know that.  She’s just got a funny way of showing it, sometimes.”

They shared a knowing grin, and Rose rolled her eyes, laughing.

“That she does.”

The bartender stopped and took their orders, and when Rose glanced at her father again, he was watching her with a pensive frown.

“What?”

“How are you doing?”

Rose’s brows furrowed.  “Fine, why?”

“Just… with everything.  The marriage.”

“Dad-”  And then she understood.  “He told you.”

Pete made a noncommittal noise.  “He might have said something. Don’t worry, I haven’t told your mother and I won’t.  What is or isn’t happening… that’s between the two of you.”  Their drinks arrived then, and he escorted her over to an empty table.  “D’you want to talk about it?”

“I love him.”  The words escaped of their own volition, her eyes flying open wide in horror.  “Oh, God, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“I know you do,” Pete chuckled.  “We all do.  The only ones who don’t are you – and Malcolm.”

Rose turned in her seat, eyes searching him out.  He was still on the dance floor, this time with Clara, and she smiled as their laughter and smiles brightened the room.  For many reasons their relationship reminded her so much of her own with her father, and she was fiercely glad to have him – he’d almost died in a car accident when she was a baby, and she didn’t know how her life might have gone if he’d passed.  Doesn’t bear thinking about.

“I do love him,” she said softly, “but he doesn’t love me.”

“How do you know?”

She scoffed.  “Because he’s never said nor done anything to indicate that he does.  There’s no evidence.”

“Have you ever given him any?  Maybe you’re both being chicken.”

Rose bit her lip, still watching the duo on the dance floor.  It was just crazy enough an idea to possibly be true, and her father had never steered her wrong before.  “Maybe.”

Malcolm looked away from Clara then, eyes scanning the room as he twirled her, a wide smile spreading across his face when he spotted her.  She waved, flashing him a grin, and he nodded in response before returning his attention to his daughter.

“Thanks, Dad,” Rose refocused on the seat next to her, only to find it empty – he’d moved back to their table, trying to tempt Jackie away from her cake for a spin.  Watching as her mother relented, and their happy expressions as they started to dance, her heart felt a little lighter.

Anything is possible.

-

They were dancing together again, more casually now as the evening grew later and the songs more current, and Rose was laughing at Malcolm’s Dad-dancing when he stopped dead, storm clouds gathering in his eyes as he let out an impressive string of profanity.

“What?”  Straightening Rose turned, and saw what he had.  “Oh, fuck.”  Though simpler, it was said with as much passion as his mini-tirade, and as one they started towards their table as fast as they could without making a scene.

“Oi!” Malcolm snarled as soon as they were close, stalking right up to where Missy stood next to Jackie, so close his nose was almost brushing his ex-wife’s.  “What are you doing here?”

Missy stood tall, still barely clearing his chin even in her heeled boots.  “You invited me,” she said evenly, waving the invitation Rose had given her the week before when she’d turned up at the townhouse.  “Sorry I’m late.”

It was hard to believe only a few minutes ago they’d been smiling and laughing as they danced; Malcolm’s face was now incandescent with rage, his right hand squeezing an absent stress ball.  Then Rose looked at her mother, and a knot formed in her gut.

“Mum?”

Jackie turned to her slowly, shock morphing to anger.  “Tell me it’s not true,” she pleaded.  “Tell me you didn’t sell yourself to him.”

“What?  No.  What?  Mum-”

“Mum!”  Clara ran up then, wide eyes darting between her parents.  “What’re you doing here?”

“Rose, did you marry him for money?”

Jackie’s question was almost drowned out by Missy snarling, “I want what’s mine.”

“Missy-” Malcolm started, patience hanging by a thread, but she spoke over him.

“That title was supposed to be mine.  Who wasted their summers out in that hellhole?  Who gave up everything?  We had a deal, Malcolm Tucker, and you got to keep what you wanted.”  Missy’s pointed glance at her own daughter made Rose’s blood run cold, but thankfully the implication went over Clara’s head.

“Mum, you’re not making any sense.  Are you feeling alright?” she spoke to her like she was one of her students, in that soothing voice Clara used when trying to calm someone.

Missy stood her ground, holding Malcolm’s eye.  “You owe me.  I could destroy you, and I will, if you don’t make me whole.”

They were starting to attract attention, but Rose didn’t dare say anything, just gave an awkward wave and smile as the few guests that were looking in their direction.

“Missy,” Malcolm sighed, “there is nothing on Earth that could fill the hole inside your chest.  I certainly was never enough, and neither was anything I could have offered you.  I don’t know how you think a minor title that’s more technicality than anything could improve your life.  All you’ve ever wanted was to be free, so fly away, little birdie, and never come back.”

“Malcolm-”

“You’ve spent our entire lives taking advantage of me, and I let you even when I should know better- do know better.  You want nothing to do with your daughter and I want nothing to do with you.  I meant what I said on Monday.  Now fuck the fuck off.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

He just shook his head.  “I’d say I’ve been more than reasonable over the years.  And besides, all of this was for nothing- you think Wallace would let you within a mile of everything he’s ever worked for?  If- not that this would ever happen- if we reunited, that would disqualify me from the Estate per his will.  So all of this has been a monumental waste of time and energy, and ruining a spectacular party.  Now leave, or I’ll have security escort you out.”

Missy’s jaw tightened.  “I love you.”

“And I actually believe that you do, at least as far as you’re capable of.  It changes nothing.  Go.”

She turned to her daughter.  “My love-”

“Go,” Clara cut her off, arms folded tightly across her chest, lower lip wobbling.  “Just… go.  Please.”

After a tense moment, Missy nodded.  Head held high she spun on her heel and stalked away, the whole group watching in silence until she disappeared through the doors.

Jackie broke the silence, turning to Rose.  “Did you marry him for money?”

“Oh, Mum,” Rose groaned, closing her eyes briefly.  “Of course not.”

“Wait,” Clara said, brow furrowing.  “What title?”

Malcolm threw his hands in the air and sighed heavily.  “Fine, fine, we’ll tell you everything.  Sit.”

So, they did.

-

“Tonight was a disaster,” Rose groaned, nuzzling her head deeper into Malcolm’s shoulder as they swayed.  “I can’t believe that happened – I’m just so glad it was late enough people had either left, or were drunk enough to not really notice or care.”

“I’m sorry,” he kissed her forehead, “I should’ve done that long ago, but… old habits die hard.  She’s Lucy, I’m Charlie Brown, and the idea of us is the bloody rugby ball.  American football.  Whatever.  I don’t even want the ball anymore, but… I see it, I need to try to kick it.  But I’m done.  Truly.”

Rose just nodded.

Malcolm eased her back enough to see her face, and she blinked up at him.  “I’m serious.  She’s… not the one I want.”  He brushed a loose tendril away from her face.  “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”  She waited for him to lean down and kiss her, but he just pulled her closer again, and they resumed swaying.  Maybe not.  Once again, her naïve and yearning heart had her hearing things he wasn’t saying.

His arms shifted around her, losing their somewhat stiff and formal hold in favor of just wrapping around her.

She wondered what they looked like to everyone else.

“Is Clara staying with us tonight?”

“No,” Rose sighed, inhaling the scent of his aftershave.  As always, it sent a thrill through her, muted by her sad longing.  “They’re going back to my- their flat from here.”

“So, just us, then.”

“Just us.”

Malcolm hummed, a not-unpleasant weight settling on her head; after a moment, she realized it was his chin.  “Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.  I like that.  Just us.”

She did too.