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pink-flame · 4 years ago

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Wrap me up

This fic is dedicated to @blush-and-books who wrote fanfic about my fanfic and made my life infinitely better for it. I hope you enjoy this indulgent Juke sickfic. 😊

Sorry that I keep giving you the flu, Julie. It’s in the name of the fluff which we all desperately need right now. And always. Definitely always need the fluff.

Enjoy! 💜

Julie was absolutely miserable.

She was home sick which on its own shouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world. She was never one of those kids who went for the perfect attendance award, her mom always ranting about how some parents were willing to let their precious children infect the entire school in pursuit of a useless paper certificate. There were generally a few days every school year where Julie caught some cold and got to spend the day propped up on the couch watching trashy daytime tv and chugging hot tea. Overall, even with the slight discomfort of a stuffy nose and a headache it usually evened out to be a relatively enjoyable experience.

The problem was that she didn’t have a cold. She had this new strain of flu that was going around that was twice as contagious and notably more intense than the normal one, leaving Julie feeling a lot more than slightly inconvenienced by her illness.

She was exhausted.

She was sore.

She was burning up and freezing at the same time.

She was...absolutely miserable.

She was also more or less on her own.

Her dad had of course wanted to nurse Julie as hands on as possible but Julie had insisted that he try to keep his distance. It was her abuela’s birthday that weekend and it was a big tradition that the whole family would go visit her. She was in her 90s and living in an assisted living facility. She didn’t get many visitors and she looked forward to them coming for weeks ahead of time. That family togetherness meant a lot to her especially after losing Julie’s mom.

So it was sad enough that Julie wouldn’t be able to attend but if her dad or tia caught her flu there would be no birthday visit at all. Carlos wasn’t exactly offering to come in and tend to Julie but she wouldn’t have let him even if he was. So despite her dad and her aunt protesting she had eventually convinced them to check on her from a healthy distance away and leave her meals and tea in the doorway to her room. Julie did her best to act as though she wasn’t feeling too bad when one of them popped in just to keep them feeling comfortable with the arrangement. As soon they left for the hour or so drive to her abuela’s facility, promising to call and check in frequently, Julie had sagged more fully against her pillows letting her true feelings about the situation wash over her fully for the first time.

Her head was pounding, she was shivering, her throat burned and every breath she took rattled in her chest. There was more than that though. She wasn’t with her family going to visit her abuela and she wouldn’t be...she wouldn’t be performing at the music program showcase the next night. It was meant to be her first solo performance, well at least the first officially sanctioned one, since she had lost her mom.

Yes, she had come so far and yes the boys had given her the confidence to perform in places she never would have believed six months ago. But this was different. This was supposed to be her opportunity to prove to everyone at school that she was back to her old self, that she could stand on that stage alone and rock it. This was supposed to be her opportunity to prove it to herself.

Instead here she was sick. Alone.

Miserable.

Julie suddenly felt a familiar burning sensation pricking at her eyes as tears welled up, threatening to fall. She tried to blink them back, frustration rising up at the thought that she would not only be miserably ill but also cry over it. Unfortunately, being incredibly frustrated was just as likely to make her cry as being sad was so she now had no chance of avoiding a full on emotional outburst.

She pressed the side of her face against her pillow and squeezed her eyes shut harshly, as though if she buried her head far enough into its fluffy surface she could convince herself that the tears weren’t falling, and her head wasn’t throbbing and…

“Jules?”

Julie blinked her eyes open sluggishly, waiting until her vision cleared enough to let her see who was standing over her bed. Not that she needed to see him to know that. She would recognize that voice anywhere at this point.

Luke.

He stood beside her bed staring down at her, his forehead creased with worry as he shifted from foot to foot with anxious energy.

“Julie are you ok? I had this weird tugging feeling and then I just thought I should come see how you were doing. Are you...are you crying?”

Julie fully intended to open her mouth and say yes, to say she was fine, that her eyes were just watering because her sinuses were backed up but actually she was feeling much better.

Instead when she opened her mouth all that escaped was a sob.

She raised one hand quickly to slap it over her mouth as though she could somehow take back the sound that had just escaped before Luke registered it. That was of course wishful thinking.

Luke’s expression immediately descended into panic, his hands flapping uselessly around her bundled up form as though searching for the spot he could touch to fix whatever was wrong with her.

“Hey, Julie...Julie...Jules, what’s wrong?”

His face was so worried and sweet and concerned and it only made Julie cry harder.

“Don’t cry,” He begged, before seemingly coming to a decision.

Even though he was only a step away from her bed he poofed out of existence and reappeared lying horizontally next to her, his hands instantly reaching out to stroke down the sides of her face, chasing the tears that tracked down its surface.

“Don’t cry,” He repeated, his voice softer and less alarmed as her breathing calmed under his touch. “Don’t cry, Jules.”

Her tears started to slow and finally dried up entirely as though his words had been a command and not a desperate plea. She thought for not the first time in the last few weeks how grateful she was that the boys were tangible to her now. It would probably never stop feeling like magic to her when Reggie bumped his shoulder against hers conspiratorially or Alex leaned down to rest his chin on the top of her head. But when Luke’s hand brushed against hers when he handed her his lyrics journal or he pulled her into a warm hug, just because?

That would probably never stop feeling like a miracle.

Her tears were gone but Luke’s hands were still resting gently on her cheeks, his fingers dancing softly up and down her skin soothingly, finding the perfect rhythm, just like he always did.

“Hey.”

He broke her from her thoughts with a single word before continuing quietly as though afraid to startle her back into tears.

“You ok?”

She nodded then thought better of it, exhaled a shaky breath and shook her head.

“I was supposed to perform at the showcase tomorrow and now I can’t and I feel awful but I have to be alone so I don’t get anyone sick.”

One of Luke’s hands slid down to rest on the top of her arm, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin he found there as an affectionate smile tugged at his lips.

“You can’t get me sick,” He reminded her. “And you’re not alone.”

Even through her raging headache and her lingering emotions she couldn’t help but mirror his small smile with one of her own.

“Cause we’ve always got each other?”

His smile grew into a certified grin, the kind that had quickly become something she looked forward to and did her best to bring out of him as often as humanly possible, even if she didn’t want him to know that. It’s power was definitely not diminished from this close.

“Exactly,” He answered, biting his lip as he jerked his head in a quick nod.

She thought his eyes might have dropped to her lips for a moment but it was so quick she thought she also might have imagined it. Given the fact that she knew she looked like an absolute mess at the moment the odds were pretty good that she had. She definitely hadn’t intended to summon him when she was in that state but she didn’t exactly have a handle on how she was doing it in the first place so she hadn’t had much choice. She didn’t regret it though. Not during their show at the Orpheum and not even now, dripping nose and frizzy hair and all.

“Why didn’t you tell me...uh, us...you were feeling this bad?” Luke asked, his face sinking back into a frown.

It was true the boys had come to visit her as soon as she came home from school feeling feverish and had slunk directly to her room instead of heading out to the studio for band practice. They had hovered around her, expressing concern in their well meaning but chaotic way before she had assured them that it was a cold and she would be back to rehearsing in no time. They had popped in a few times since, Luke especially, to offer a distraction or company. She had always sent them away in the name of rest even though the truth was she just didn’t want them to see her like this.

With Luke’s soft gaze trained on her now though...she was having a hard time remembering why she had spent so much effort keeping him away.

She didn’t say any of that out loud, choosing to simply shrug and lift her eyes up slightly to meet his.

Luckily he seemed ready to let it go, letting her lack of answer pass as he shifted a few inches closer to her until she knew she would be able to feel his breath on her face if he had still needed to breathe at all.

“What can I do?” He asked, the hand still on her cheek rising up to trace a tingling line from her temple to her jaw.

Julie let her eyes drift shut so she could take in the sensation of his calloused fingertips dragging gently against her skin even more intensely.

“This is a good start,” She muttered, smirking a little as she heard his answering chuckle rumble out.

Unfortunately she didn’t have long to enjoy such an amazing moment as a particularly intense throb of pain exploded across her forehead and behind her eyes. She managed not to groan but her discomfort must have shown on her face because Luke withdrew both of his hands from where they touched her.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked, his tone more serious than she was used to hearing it.

Julie forced her eyes open though even the dull light of the lamp next to her bed suddenly seemed a little unbearable.

“Kind of...everywhere,” She admitted, her voice catching with a slight croak. “But mostly my head.”

“Stay here,” Luke instructed firmly as though she had any plans to be anywhere but her bed for the foreseeable future.

Before Julie could point that out though he had already poofed out of the room. When he returned a few minutes later he took the long way, the boys having not managed to master poofing any objects with them other than their instruments and their clothes. Thank God, for that second part. Although...she would be lying if she said those barely shirts Luke had a habit of wearing didn’t make her curious to see the few parts of his upper body they left to her imagination.

Julie realized too late that Luke had said something to her and quickly stammered out a response, hoping it was the right one.

“Nothing!”

He raised an eyebrow as he set a box of crackers and two tylenol down on her bedside table.

“I asked if you wanted a warm washcloth for your head,” He said, the hint of a laugh behind his words.

“Oh,” She could feel herself blushing and thanked whoever was listening that she could at least blame the flush of her cheeks on her fever. “No thank you.”

She sat up sluggishly and Luke handed her the pills and a glass of water and she took them gratefully, swallowing the pills with a little difficulty due to her swollen throat.

“You should try to eat something too,” Luke insisted, nudging the box of crackers towards her. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to take pain medicine on an empty stomach.”

Julie forced down a couple of crackers even though she hadn’t been hungry all day. Luke sat down on the edge of her bed.

“You’re pretty good at this,” She told Luke as she slouched down a little further, the energy required to sit up quickly draining out of her.

His eyes darted away for a moment before returning to meet hers again.

“I’m just trying stuff my mom used to do for me.”

Julie knew that just because Luke had finally gotten some closure with his parents didn’t mean that it wasn’t still hard for him to linger on his thoughts of them. Especially his mom. She also knew that if the last few months had taught her anything it was that sometimes doing the hard thing was the right thing in the long run. Thinking of people you had loved and lost was hard at first but it could become a source of happiness if you let it. She had that with the memory of her mom and she wanted the same for him, even if they were dealing with different kinds of ghosts.

Julie reached out and pulled Luke’s hand into her somewhat clammy one, giving it a gentle squeeze and pointedly ignoring the questioning look he sent her in response.

“What else did she do?” She asked.

Luke hesitated for a moment but then a soft smile appeared on his face and Julie felt a surge of warmth that cut straight through the ache in her chest.

“She would wrap me up in a blanket like a burrito,�� He told her, an excited tone edging into his voice. “And let me watch all my favorite movies.”

Julie turned Luke’s hand over and traced gentle patterns across his palm with the tips of her fingers.

“That sounds really nice.”

He seemed distracted by her actions but he managed to stutter out a reply.

“Yeah...uh, yeah, it was.”

“Anything else?” She asked, her fingers not ceasing their circular route around his palm.

“Um…” Luke dragged his eyes away from what she was doing as he ducked his head bashfully. “She would tell me stories sometimes.”

Julie finally stopped her motions, folding her hand softly over his.

“That’s so cute.”

“I mean, I was a little kid,” Luke shrugged, but he didn’t seem to entirely hate her using the word cute to describe something even distantly connected to him.

Maybe it was the fever or the exhaustion or the gratitude to not be alone but Julie was having a hard time mustering up any of the awkwardness or self-doubt or nerves that would normally plague her if she was this close to Luke. She wanted to be close to him and she felt too rotten to deny herself.

An involuntary shiver ran through her and as much as she would have liked to blame it on the proximity of a certain dead guitarist, she was pretty sure this one was due to this damn flu.

“Are you cold?” Luke asked, that familiar, concerned frown settling back onto his face.

Julie nodded.

“A little.”

Luke jumped up from his spot on the edge of her bed and rushed over to the chair sitting against the wall, grabbing the fuzzy blanket she always kept folded over the back of it. He was back at her bed in an instant, pulling down her comforter and letting a rush of cool air wash over her.

Julie stared at him in confusion, another shiver travelling through her body.

“What are you doing?”

Luke stretched out his arms, her blanket extending until he was just peeking over it, only his eyes and floppy hair visible.

“Blanket burrito,” He explained excitedly. “Is that ok?”

Julie couldn’t help but smile a little at his enthusiasm and she nodded.

He was instantly leaning forward to wrap the blanket tightly around her, pulling it all the way up to her chin and tucking it under her all along the edges of her body until she felt like a toasty...well, burrito. When he was satisfied with his work, Luke pulled her comforter back up, patting it with satisfaction before sinking back onto the bed next to her.

“Better?”

Julie nodded.

“Better.”

In the end the blanket burrito wasn’t the only sick day tip they borrowed from his mother. Luke fetched her laptop and managed to follow her instructions clunkily to pull up Netflix. They watched Thirteen Going on Thirty because it’s one of her favorites, and because it’s full of 80s references which Luke gets too.

“Isn’t it a little creepy that she’s really 13?” He asked at one point.

“Only if you think about it too hard,” Julie rolled her eyes. “Besides they’re obviously soulmates. They were always meant to end up together somehow.”

“Hmmm…” Luke hummed, seeming to seriously consider her words even as a comedic scene played out on the screen. “You believe in stuff like that?”

“Soulmates?” Julie hesitated for a moment, hoping that her face wasn’t giving away just how much she had invested in this question. “Yeah, I guess I do. What about you?”

Luke’s answer didn’t come right away and when it did it was spoken in an impossibly soft voice.

“Yeah, I guess I do too.”

After that they don’t talk until the movie is finished, but he does make a point to reach out and rub comfortingly at her shoulder whenever a ragged breath or cough escapes her.

When the movie is over Julie started to lose what little energy she had, slumping further and further down involuntarily until she finds herself completely horizontal again. She fought to keep her eyes open but it was a losing battle.

“You should go to sleep,” Luke told her, affection clear in his tone. “I’ll keep you company.”

Julie nodded and he stretched out behind her as she rolled onto her side, the blanket burrito hindering her for a moment before she managed to wriggle free. She hesitated for a few seconds then reached back and pulled one of his arms forward to drape over her waist. She knew she was really pushing the limits now of their friendship, of the tightrope they had been walking ever since “interesting little relationship” and “no regrets” and the heady realization that they could touch each other. She just couldn’t quite bring herself to care about the implications in the moment.

Luke’s hand flexed awkwardly on her side before he seemed to reach a similar conclusion, sliding it around to settle against her stomach, tugging her more firmly against him. She could feel his head nudging at her hair and was filled with a sudden rush of concern.

“My hair’s in your face.”

“It’s fine,” He mumbled, his voice closer to her ear than she was prepared for.

“No really, you’re going to smother yourself,” Julie insisted. “We don’t have to cuddle. You don’t have to stay at all if you don’t want to. You’ve already…”

“Jules,” He cut off her nervous rambling, using his arm to guide her gently onto her other side until she was facing him.

He hadn’t moved back at all and their faces were now so close that their noses were almost brushing. Her first thought was that it was a good thing that she couldn’t get him sick because this position would definitely have done it. Her second thought was that she was this close to Luke and how delightfully overwhelming that experience was.

“Better?” He breathed through a chuckle.

Julie managed a nod.

“Better.”

Luke’s arm remained firmly wrapped around her waist, his fingers starting to trace random shapes along her back.

“Go to sleep, Julie,” He instructed, and once again her body seemed to take his words as an order.

An order she didn’t have the strength to disobey, not that she was trying very hard.

Her eyes slid closed.

This moment was so close to perfect (as perfect as anything could be when she felt this sick) it felt selfish to push her luck for more. But Julie wasn’t the type to settle and Luke wasn’t the type to deny her what she asked (anything, Julie, you know that). So she spoke up, eyes still firmly shut.

“Tell me a story.”

There was a pause before his answer came, his voice embarrassed but something else lingering in his tone that she was too afraid to call love and too smart to call anything else.

“I don’t remember any,” He admitted.

“Make one up,” She suggested, one of her hands finding its way to his arm, running her nails gently from his elbow to his wrist and back again.

This time it was his turn to shiver and if she felt a rush of satisfaction at that she did her best to keep the evidence of it off of her face. She was pretty sure he knew anyway.

“Once upon a time,” He started finally, his voice soft and amused. “There was a princess with a gift for music. She was a wicked beauty but she was lonely. She lived in a tower without anyone to sing with. Then one day the princess found this cd and three princes who also happened to be ghosts showed up…”

Julie let his voice lull her into a sleep more restful than any she had experienced in the past week. She kept up her motions tracing gently along his arm until finally as she drifted off her hand sagged down to wrap around his hip. The last thing she was aware of before losing consciousness completely was his warm fingers stroking her spine, the music in his fingers present even when his guitar was out of reach.

She was exhausted.

She was sore.

She was burning up and freezing at the same time.

But she wasn’t alone.

And she was definitely, definitely not miserable.

#juke #jatp #my fics #fluff #all the fluff #sickfic #Julie molina #Luke patterson #Julie and the phantoms #SOULMATES

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

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If you're still taking requests!! Fake Dating situation where Newt and Hermann go to a public event together. they're used to being mistaken for a couple at the Shatterdome, so they expect to be mistaken for a couple at the event. But then they meet someone who definitely Does Not mistake them for a couple (because homophobia) and assumes they're just Very Good Friends. cue Newt and Hermann aggressively pretending to be a couple.

always and forever taking requests!!! this is such a fun one, THANK YOU

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“We’ll have to go in eventually,” Newt says.

Next to him, Hermann silently fumes, apparently unable to decide whether to continue tugging at his stiff collar or grinding the bottom of his cane—over and over, in a sort of circle—against the sidewalk, leaving streaks of black rubber behind. “I hate these damn things,” he says under his breath, though it’s unclear whether he means his outfit or the event. Hermann’s dressed up tonight in a suit that’s hilariously oversized (even for him) and fraying in places, with a bowtie that he’s knotted crookedly. Newt wonders if the suit’s a hand-me-down from his brother. “Begging for funding, as if we haven’t anything better to do with our time. As if we’re not working for the better of all of them. It’s bloody degrading.” He works his jaw angrily. “And if that isn’t enough—everyone always makes—assumptions—about us.”

Oh, okay. The event. “Assumptions?” Newt says.

Hermann lets out a hiss of air between his teeth. “Assumptions,” he repeats, delicately. “About—ah—the certain nature of our relationship.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Oh.”

At the last one of these things they went to, someone (actually generous enough to open their checkbook for once) asked Hermann whether they should make it out to the PPDC or Dr. Gottlieb and his husband. At the one before that, a dinner event, the name placards at their table said Dr. Newton Geiszler-Gottlieb and Dr. Hermann Geiszler-Gottlieb. Before that, at a more casual affair at an up-scale bar, some tech hottie sent Newt a martini, before hurrying over and apologizing in person that (gesturing between Newt and Hermann) he didn’t realize Newt was with someone. Newt really wishes Hermann would just get it through his head already that introducing someone as your partner and dropping the important research part of it tends to hold drastically different connotations outside of, like, the group of people who know them on the Shatterdome base, because that would clear up probably sixty percent of the confusion. If not just so he can pick up a few numbers at these things for once. Still, though—for some reason it’s never really bothered him like it clearly bothers Hermann, but Newt supposes he’s not exactly a catch by any standards, so it makes sense. “I just don’t know where they get the impression—” Hermann begins, and Newt interrupts him.

“Yeah, well, you should take it as a compliment,” he says. “You could do a lot worse than me.” He opens the door for Hermann and ushers him in. “Seriously, we’ll be late if we don’t go in now, and that makes it, like, twice as awkward.”

As usual, they have to sit through some incredibly boring speech about how they’re sitting among some of the best scientific minds of the century right now, how they’re honored to play host to their colleagues at the PPDC, how the buffet will opening shortly for dinner, and then a different person gets up and makes another speech, and then another person with another, until finally the first person gets back up and promises that closing remarks will be in three hours, and how they should all enjoy themselves until then. Claps. Under his breath, Newt says to Hermann, “Doubt it.”

“Which side shall I take, then?” Hermann sighs. He’s probably the only one in the room not clapping. He told Newt a while ago that he doesn’t like to put on airs, and especially not in the service of flattering someone’s ego, and he’ll only clap for a speech if he feels it deserves it. He’s such a weirdo.

Newt surveys the room, considering. Luckily, people tend to flock together in similar little groups at these things. Birds of a feather shit. “Left. Everyone on the right is too young and hip-looking, so that’s out of your range.” He gets a cane to his shin, and grins even has he winces. “Kidding. Let’s just do it together, it’ll make it more bearable.”

Their first target is a forty-something marine biologist who’s very excited to meet Newt— “I followed your research on jellyfish for years!” she says. “I had no idea you’d be here tonight!” —and who is more than happy to promise donating a little to help fund the war effort. Their next is someone younger than both of them, whom Newt suspects is heir to his dad’s tech company or something, and who is easily guilted into promising even more than the biologist. “We’re having a lot better luck than usual,” Newt says, as they watch the kid hurry away to mingle with a group of other twenty-somethings. “Do we look more, like, respectable tonight or something?”

“It’s the open bar,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, probably,” Newt agrees.

“And anyway, we’re still terribly behind on our goal, so there’s no use getting too pleased over ourselves,” Hermann says. He sniffs. “If you still want that bloody—whatever it was—kaiju spleen, we need at least—”

“Okay, okay,” Newt says.

He nods at a small group standing by one of the buffet tables, holding half-eaten plates. People tend to be in better moods when they’ve eaten something. Hopefully more generous moods too. “Let’s try them,” he says.

Hermann is the one to initiate the conversation this time, launching at once into a variation of the little script he and Newt penned so long ago the night before their very first gala. “Good evening,” he says. They get a few polite smiles and nods of acknowledgement in return. “I’m Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, and this is my partner—” Newt tries not to groan. “—Dr. Newton Geiszler. We’re here representing the PPDC tonight. I don’t suppose we could have a moment of your time?”

The mood of the group changes immediately, but why Newt can’t figure out; it’s like they suddenly go hostile on them. Hostile, and tense. Newt is suddenly astutely aware of how each of the three dudes have a good few inches on both him and Hermann. “The PPDC?” the guy in front says. He's not smiling anymore. Maybe they all supported the jaeger program defunding or something. “Sure.”

“Er,” Hermann says. He clears his throat. “Newton—that is, my partner and I work for the kaiju research division at the PPDC’s Hong Kong base. As you may well be aware, the latest cuts to the PPDC’s budget have been quite dev—”

“So you and your friend,” the guy says, with a little more emphasis on the friend than Newt would like, “are going around asking for donations? To help buy pencils or something?”

“Well. Essentially,” Hermann says. He doesn’t seem to have picked up on what Newt did, though he grows visibly nervous anyway. Outright hostility isn't anywhere near as common as indifference at these sorts of things. “Though, pencils is—er—a vast understatement.” He casts a furtive, desperate glance at Newt—a help me if Newt ever saw one. “My partner—Dr. Geiszler—simply doesn’t have enough funding for the samples he needs to study—and donations would certainly help with our funding for other necessary supplies—"

“I sure we’d love to help you and your friend,” the same guy says, and there’s no missing the emphasis this time, “but we’re a little busy at the moment. Please come back and talk to us later, though.”

Hermann clamps his mouth shut. Newt narrows his eyes, and in a move bold enough to surprise even himself, snags Hermann’s arm and links his own with it. “Sure thing,” he says loudly. Hermann goes rigid and stiff under him. “Come on, babe, let’s get something to eat. I know how you get when you’re hungry.” Then, before he can stop himself, he brushes a single kiss at Hermann’s cheek, and tries not to laugh at the looks they get.

He waits until they’re out of eyesight (Newt having had to sort of drag Hermann along with him) to drop Hermann’s arm. Hermann hasn’t moved a muscle since Newt touched him, and even now, he just sort of blinks at Newt. “What on Earth—?”

“Dude,” Newt says. “That guy was a total jerk. He thought we were together, and—”

“He did not,” Hermann says. “He kept calling you my ‘friend’. It was a bloody nice break from what usually happens, I might add, and now you’ve gone and—”

“Hermann,” Newt says. He sighs. “You’re, like, totally missing my point. He thought we were together.”

“But he called you—”

“Yeah, exactly,” Newt says.

Hermann blinks a few more times. “Ah,” he says.

“No way in hell do we need his money,” Newt says. “Anyway, sorry about the—” He touches Hermann’s cheek, and then gestures to Hermann’s left arm, which is now just sort of hanging limply at Hermann’s side. “I just wanted to screw with him. I won’t do it again, though—”

“No!” Hermann says quickly. The tips of his ears go red, and he fumbles as he grabs Newt’s arm again. A sudden warmth situates itself like pressure over Newt’s chest, identical to the kind that’s creeping up his wrist where Hermann’s fingers just grazed his bare skin, and he’s struck with the sudden bizarre urge to duck his head and blush himself. Since when has Hermann had this kind of effect on him? “What I meant to say is—” Hermann licks his wide lips. “He might still see us. We ought to—to keep up the ruse.”

“To really screw with him?” Newt says.

“For what other reason?” Hermann says.

Newt forces himself to keep a smooth, neutral expression as Hermann unwinds his arm to lace their fingers together instead, with a lot more awkward fumbling. “Uh-huh,” he says. He remembers how soft and smooth Hermann’s cheek had felt, so unlike his own, which can never seem to hold a clean shave. How nice Hermann's hand feels in his now. He’s definitely going to have to unpack this later. “Yeah, that’s—good idea, Hermann. Let’s do that.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Hermann's POV in this fic is just newt touching his hand - REALIZATION #Anonymous

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

Text

Finding each other Part 2

This was prompted by the amazing @headfulloffantasy and @downeyjrfreak! Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Soulmate AU [Part1]

The drive home had been more than awkward. Gavin, having hastily loaded his job and the rest of the rescued androids on some unfortunate intern, had short of pulled the RK900 out of the precinct and to his car. And while the android sat on the passenger side with barely any movement, Gavin’s heart seemed to beat with the same rhythm as the engine in front of him. Finally home, they exited the car standing next to the open doors and looked at the small suburban house Gavin only managed to get because half of the neighbourhood was almost deserted. A bit self-conscious, he looked over to the android he barely knew, who apparently wanted to scan every little detail, because he was staring.

‘It’s not much’, he stammered almost as an apology. ‘But it’s mine, home.’ He coughed. ‘Well, ours now I guess.’ He kneaded his neck just to give his hands something to do and looked over. He stared directly into the android’s blue eyes. ‘It’s yours?’, he asked so silent it was almost drowned out by the slight breeze. ‘Ours?’ ‘If you want it to be?’, Gavin shrugged, taken off guard by the surprised tone. ‘You can of course also join the other androids at Jericho. If it’s too fast for you or-‘ ‘I want to be where you are.’ ‘Oh’, Gavin swallowed what he had been about to say. ‘Of course. Then let’s head on in.’

They closed the doors of the car and Gavin took the lead to the porch. Gavin unlocked the door and walked inside, waiting for the android to follow that did so tentatively, scanning what little he could see of the hallway. He closed the door behind him and followed Gavin’s movements while he kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket. His eyes flew over a few pictures hung up next to the coat rack and Gavin stopped to look at them too. ‘Photo’s of my friends, mostly. A few vacations too.’ He tried a small half-smile, but it did little to chase the awkwardness away that lingered between them.

It was his cat that finally interrupted it, running up to them and weaving through Gavin’s legs to see who that newcomer was. ‘You have a cat?’, the android asked with wide eyes, crouching down and holding out his hand. ‘Yes. Do you like cats?’ ‘I don’t know’, the RK900 answered, completely focussed on the small feline walking up to him just to sniff and headbutt his fingers. ‘I think so, though.’ ‘Right, you never saw one before, right?’, Gavin commented, remembering that the android likely hadn’t been outside Cyberlife Tower until the raid. ‘No, this is the first time. It’s soft.’ ‘I’m sorry. It’s hard to imagine you never did… well, anything really. I think we really should talk.’ The android nodded, standing up again and waiting for Gavin to once again lead the way.

He brought him to the small living room and pointed towards the old cosy couch tucked away to one side of the room facing towards a large flatscreen and a coffee-table in between. Multiple old mugs with dark coffee-stains on the bottom piled on it together with takeout containers and a lone candle meant as decoration. ‘I’m sorry for the mess’, Gavin stammered, even if just to break the silence. ‘I didn’t really expect to… well, to meet my soulmate today.’ ‘I feel the same. I was… Well, your name on my wrist used to be the only thing giving me hope. It made me think I just had to somehow get out of there, once I had managed that there would be a person out there for me that would help me. When I was saved and taken out of that lab… I mean, I still had the name, but how should I even find you? I realised I vastly underestimated how hard it would be to find one human among millions. I was scared for a long time, but the moment I realised that I felt lost, too. Hearing the name in the queue, I thought I must have imagined it. But you had my designation and… I’m just relieved. It’s hard to feel anything beyond that.’

Gavin swallowed hard. It sounded like there was a whole lot of things the android wasn’t saying and none of them would be anything pleasant. Still, he couldn’t help but ask: ‘What did they do to you? If you don’t mind telling. You don’t have to!’ The android looked up at him. ‘I was designed as Connor’s successor. A machine to hunt and kill deviants. And I was thoroughly tested to what extend I was capable of doing that. Sometimes I wished I had been a machine, just so I don’t need to know exactly how it feels, just so I wouldn’t have to reflect on what I did and how it must have felt for the deviant I killed. Even if it was just a simulation it felt real. And I wasn’t a machine. I had been infected when a rogue deviant broke into the lab to get my help. He was killed, but I had his code and the next simulation I deviated. Knowing what they would do to me first-hand though, I did my best to hide it. And I was good with that. They just thought my programming was faulty, not that I was a deviant.’ He paused for a while, looking down on Gavin’s name on his wrist. ‘But because of that they changed me. They stripped away parts of me and replaced them with others. Deleted some completely. I remember existing in some form of a blank slate for an hour because they were on lunchbreak. But no matter how much they changed me, the fact that I never lost you…‘ He nervously faced Gavin again. ‘The fact that I never lost your name on my wrist throughout it all gave me hope. That no matter how much they changed me, you were still out there, and I just had to find a way out. That I wasn’t as alone as I thought to be.’

‘Way to set high expectations’, Gavin chuckled humourless. ‘But hell, that really sounds bad. I hope I can help you. Usually I’m not the person people would come to for that.’ ‘I escaped, and I found the person fate decided was perfect for me. I am safe. Most of my life that was my only goal. Right now I think I just need a place to stay and get used to… learn what it means to actually live I guess.’ ‘S-sure, you can stay here for as long as you want’, Gavin offered, unsure what else to say. He had spent so much time worrying whether his soulmate actually existed, that now that he sat right in front of him, he didn’t know what to do. ‘Cyberlife took a hard blow to their image and lost most, if not all of their power. I don’t think you have to worry about them ever again.’ ‘Thank you’, the RK900 whispered, brushing his thumb over his soul mark just like Gavin had done countless times in the past.

‘What about you?’, the android asked then. ‘I doubt not having a name on your wrist had been easy for you.’ Gavin huffed, finally prying the wristband away and showing the black letters and numbers openly. ‘No, it wasn’t. But no comparison to your story either.’ ‘Please, do tell me’, the android insisted. ‘You are my soulmate and I know nothing about you.’ Gavin leaned back and sighed deeply. ‘Hell, where would I even begin? Everyone thought it was a glitch. Everyone thought I would be someone without a soulmate but fate glitched out and I ended up with this keysmash basically. I wanted to believe it wasn’t and there was some reason for these numbers. Was bullied for them in school and was caught between wishing them away just not to be the weirdo and clinging to your name because it meant there was someone out there. Hid it in the end, but that didn’t help making finding friends easier. It only got better when I met Tina during police academy. She has the same kind of mark. She is destined for a ST300. When androids were released to the public, I must admit I started to really hate my mark and androids with it. I thought that it was an insult to be considered such a bad soul only a lifeless android could fit to me. But with deviancy you basically became persons and my view gradually changed.’

‘So you are not ashamed of having a different mark than other humans?’, the RK900 wanted to know. ‘What? No. Never really was to be honest. I was angry. I felt betrayed being told there was someone for me but having to always doubt myself. Living with the possibility it had all been just a glitch, that I would end up with a mindless machine and then after seeing the RK800 be released, having hope again, just to lose it once again after the revolution. But I was never ashamed of it.’ ‘Why did you lose hope to find me after the revolution?’, RK900 asked. ‘Well, there were no new androids being produced. If your line ended at the RK800, then suddenly the glitch possibility was there again. As was the thought that maybe I would have met you if the revolution wasn’t successful.’ ‘But then the name would have vanished, hadn’t it?’ ‘I don’t have the slightest idea how these things work, tin-can’, Gavin sighed. ‘I was desperate for some explanation at the time. Because I was terrified of staying alone all my life. Always told myself there are a lot of people out there happy living their life without any romantic relationship, but somehow that never sat right with me. And with my soulmark evident, hell, who in his sane mind would date me? I wanted you to exist. Wanted nothing more than meeting you one day.’

‘Maybe we do fit together then’, the android concluded with a calm blue spinning LED. ‘Both desperately wanting the other to exist and be there.’ ‘For vastly different reasons maybe but yeah. You’ve been through a lot more shit than I have.’ ‘I wouldn’t say that’, RK900 disagreed. ‘You had to live with it for thirty-six years. I only for about half a year. I can’t imagine how it must have been for you.’ Gavin nodded a bit uncomfortable. In his eyes his struggle wasn’t even remotely similar to the android’s, but comparing suffering was likely a bad idea in the first place. ‘Well, it’s over now’, Gavin concluded, defeated and feeling tired suddenly. ‘It’s over’, the android agreed.

‘What do we do now?’, the human asked after a few moments of silence. ‘Can I hug you again?’, RK900 asked. ‘It felt really good the last time.’ Gavin smirked at that and shrugged. ‘Sure.’ They scooted closer on the couch and the android put his arms around Gavin, who did the same. Leaned against each other like this, holding the other they barely knew and yet felt completely safe with, a comfortable silence settled around them for the first time. Gavin’s cat joined them after a while and Gavin himself gradually lost all of his tension. ‘I waited far too long for this’, he mumbled already sleepy and settled against the android in a more comfortable position. He felt how RK900 in his back looked down on him by the way his chest angled itself against his shoulder. Then he returned to his resting position and a gust of warm, slightly stale air hit the side of his head. ‘Me too.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #dbh soulmate AU

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 4 years ago

Text

Illicit affairs- Chapter 8

summary: imagine the met gala but ten times better and in stark tower, that’s it. felicia doesn’t have very good manners and sneaks away with y/n but peter and his friends are on the lookout.

Listen to: Do I wanna know -Arctic Monkeys & bad idea- girl in red

word count: 12k

(author’s notes at the end now)

warnings: s m u t.

series masterlist

(today we change and use a photo of Felicia, although it’s not too accurate in my head)

If there was someone who had an incredible hidden talent, it was MJ. You knew she liked to draw since you first met her, but as time passed you realized that a side effect of her hobby, even if she didn’t like it as much, was that she could do a mind-blowing make-up look without even trying. You had realized this one Halloween that you had spent with Peter and his friends, you had asked her where she had gone to do that makeup-look with glitter tears streaming down her cheeks but she simply shrugged, saying that she had used some of her art supplies and done it herself. After that it was more common than not that MJ would come to do your make-up to every important event that you had to attend, she had even done Pepper’s makeup and soon it became like a side job for her too.

She had such ability with the brushes, knew exactly which colors could match your skin and outfit that you almost became dependent on her, feeling a bit more insecure when you had to do your make-up or even hire someone different than MJ but tonight she was there.

“Do you want me to do the wing?” you asked MJ, glancing at her and searching what was wrong but she simply huffed.

“Shut up, I’m an artist” she grumbled under her breath as she shook her hand a bit and dived right into your eye.

“You are so giddy today” you muttered, which earned you a glare from MJ.

“Well, I’ve never been to a Gala myself or done the make-up for the hostess of the Gala,” she said as she finished one eye and then adjusted her dress.

As always, you were in awe of how MJ looked. Her flawless black skin matched perfectly with the custom silk lame gown that she had decided to wear for the night, it was a halter top but with a nice cut on her middle part that showed a little bit of skin and a long skirt that almost touched the floor. With her tall slender body and perfect tone muscles, she looked like a supermodel.

“No, my dad and pepper are the hosts. I’m just here for the small talk with people they don’t want to talk to and to drink champagne” you answer back as she finished the wing on the other one and you finally managed to open your eyes and see yourself in the mirror.

She had done an exceptional job as always, only mascara missing to finish the look but she had done a great job with the nude eyeshadow with a dramatic wing, she had even added a bit of gold glitter surrounding your eyes so it could match the gold earrings that you decided to wear for the night. You walked towards the mirror and fixed the dress that you had decided to wear. It was a cream Jacquemus backless dress with a slit on the side of your leg, while this time you had decided to wear the charm that held your suit in a classic bracelet usually, you wouldn’t bother that much on dresses on how you looked for these types of events given that you disliked them but tonight was different.

“That makes you the hostess, small talk with people that you don’t like” MJ answer back as she put a bit of blush on her skin and then walked over to you, leaning against your mirror.

“I’ll try to avoid it, especially when Felicia arrives” you answered with a shrug and started to apply your mascara, but not before you notice how MJ began to play with her hands uncomfortably.

You knew it was because you brought up Felicia but, in all honesty, you were more than elated that she had agreed to come.

The last weeks or so had been a rollercoaster. Although you somehow had assured your feelings for the other, you weren’t spending that much time together. Part of it was that you were ordered to stay in bed for a few days, knowing that your injuries were bad and needed time to recover, it wasn’t like Felicia wanted to simply burst on Stark Tower or ask you to move; she would sneak some nights sneak in to see how you were doing before you were officially discharged by Bruce. But then, when you were able to go to her apartment, she would cancel a bit too often for you, arguing that a girl needs to pay the bills (which you assumed was a way to say that she was going to do some work that you didn’t like).

So, you let her be.

Though, the days you did spend together, she was as loving as she had ever been with you. She would cook for you all the healthy foods that she hated but she would eat them with you, even your annoying quinoa salad and green smoothies, which you appreciated. You would spend time watching movies and listening to music together, curating playlists depending on a situation, and talk until early morning hours. She would kiss you too, sweetly and carefully, Felicia even freaked out when you complain after a kiss got a little bit too heated a few days after you had been ‘discharged’; after that she had tried, really hard, to keep the kisses to a PG-rating (much to her dismay).

But then this week had come and she had become a kind of a nervous wreck thinking about the Gala, which for you seemed so out of character for her. She would ask for the program of the night again, and again and who would be there, trying to know how to dress and where everything was. You attributed her behavior to the fact that she was -probably- going to meet Tony and Pepper, and you were coming out to the circle of people you would be surrounded by. Part of her was relieved when she heard that the other Avengers weren’t going to make it to the Gala and you thought it was sweet, she was nervous about how serious you had become.

To ease her nerves, you had insisted to her to go shopping together for a dress or told her to go earlier that day so she could know where everything was, if she was too worried about it, even gave suggested if she would like to come to dinner first with Tony and Pepper so she wouldn’t be too freaked out the day of the Gala. But she had refused, especially regarding the dress; saying that since she was older than you (only two years), therefore the sugar mommy feeling was a little bit off.

You had blushed at her statement but decided to let her be, knowing it was the best thing you could do for Felicia.

“y/n?”

Peter’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned around to watch him, and it felt like you had almost stopped breathing for a second.

You had seen Peter in a suit a couple of times before but never like this. He seemed taller and also leaner, the sharp suit he was wearing fitted him perfectly, his messy curls were settled down with a little bit of hair gel that pulled them back and to the side but you could tell that the curls would be let loose sooner rather than later. He had a small watch on his wrist, a gift from you and Tony, it had an engraved message “with great power, comes great responsibility” which honored his Uncle Ben. Peter didn’t use it often but when he did, it caused your heart to squeeze on your chest.

And Peter was mesmerized too. Your hair had been pulled down behind your ears, it was sleek and it looked perfectly styled. He could see the blush on your cheeks, the reflection of the glitter on your eyes, and he was, as always, so captivated by how your eyes seemed like constellations accompanied with your long lashes that he felt like he had zoned out. Plus, the dress fitted your body perfectly. It was showing more skin than you usually showed with a small side-boob showing thanks to the asymmetric form of it along with your exposed back. He felt his mouth drying as you turned around shyly towards him, but for him, you looked breathtaking.

“Are you ready?” Peter asked, stammering a bit as he looked away from you towards MJ who was giving him a look. “Tony and Pepper are waiting downstairs for you,” he said silently before looking at you for a second and then at the floor.

MJ snickered a bit before she took her purse and made her way to the door. “Don’t you look dapping” MJ said as she patted Peter on his shoulder and walked out of your room, you guessed she was already looking for Harley.

You both stayed silent for a moment, as you gazed at the other, you blinking owlishly while Peter drilled you with his eyes. Although you weren’t saying anything, you knew what he was thinking about: last time you were dressed this nicely, it had been the last night before you had run away. You would’ve like to avoid the memories, but it seemed inevitable to connect this moment to your last; even more knowing that although it seemed like everything had changed, your heart was still beating for Peter and his was beating for you.

“You look beautiful,” Peter whispered as you walked towards him, he couldn’t even stop himself, and the two of you flushed at his comment.

“Tha-thanks, MJ did the makeup because I have no idea,” you spoke coyly as you ordered HAPPY to turn off the lights and you and Peter walked outside the room, the door closing behind you.

You tried to shake it off, the obvious nervousness that you felt around Peter but it didn’t seem to work as he offered you his arm, so you could hold onto it as you always did.

“Well, she did a great job, you look amazing” Peter said honestly as he glanced at you while you walked towards the elevator. “She’s a lucky girl.”

It had taken all his willpower to actually say those words but he was being truthful, no matter how much it could pain him because, as he had realized the last few days, it only mattered to him that you were safe and happy. The bad thing was, that he didn’t believe you would be safe with Felicia.

For you, the comment hit a nerve. Not only because you knew how Peter felt about Felicia, and you dislike that it might have hurt him to see you with her but also because Felicia had been MIA since early in the morning. You had texted her a good morning text, asking her if she needed anything but she had declined the offer and simply stating that she would see you tonight.

Hours had passed and there was no sign that Felicia was actually coming but you deeply hope she would.

“Yeah…” you muttered with a long sigh, but you quickly changed the topic as the elevator’s doors opened. “I’m surprised you decided to bring Flash as your date.”

“What!?”

“See, MJ is with Harley and Betty with Ned,” you explained to him while you fixed your hair and watch Peter’s bug-eyed expression at your comment “Which leaves you with Flash.”

“That’s not funny.” Peter quickly answered with a glare.

“Oh, because he’s a guy?” you chuckled and placed your hands over your chest, raising an eyebrow and waiting for his answer.

“No!” Peter protested, a little bit offended at your question and then the doors to the elevator opened. “It’s because he’s Flash!”

You both laughed as you exited the elevator and walked towards where the Gala was through a small hallway that Pepper had arranged for only you two enter the building.

The Gala had become an emblematic even for the city, Pepper had come up with it after you had moved from LA and Tony had made the respective and adequate changes to Stark Industries. It was an annual fundraising gala for the benefit of technological advances and charities and it always happened at Stark Tower.

The whole first and second floor of the building were remodeled to fit the event. On the first floor, you would find the red carpet and exhibitions of the work done by the different companies, known scientists, and young people who had the opportunity to present their ambitious ideas and work. It was also a social event, celebrities, journalists, CEO’s and more people would be invited as well. Then, the second floor was where the dinner and the after-party would usually take place.

It wasn’t a wild evening, I mean although Tony would make it as wild as he wanted, it always went nicely and calmed. Even some Avengers would make surprise appearances once in a while, mostly Nat, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Bruce; Thor had been technically banned after he had too much to drink once. This drew huge media attention for the projects which were extremely important for the fundraiser that took place at the event and so, it had become also somehow the Met Gala of the science community.

It was also the only time that paparazzi would take your photos willingly, although you hated it.

Today was no different, you had to pose with Tony and Pepper on the red carpet that was prepared at the main entrance to the event. The commotion of flashing lights and excited reporters was almost something that you couldn’t get used to after so many years, and although you would normally be complaining to Pepper as Tony did sometimes when he would get bored; Peter would usually woosh in and take photos with you, so paparazzi wouldn’t use the photos with him because magazines didn’t think much of Peter back then, so it was a nice way to ruin some shots. But today was different, Peter was now known to be one of the Star Interns of Tony and he was called on by a reporter, and you were ushered off to take more photos and then by Tony who was excited to see Pepper’s speech.

And as a sea of people separated you and Peter, you decided to focus on Pepper’s speech and Felicia’s whereabouts.

But she was nowhere to be found, disappointed you quickly blended into the crowd and began to do your work. You started saying ‘hi’ and ‘welcoming’ the various people that were invited from celebrities to renowned scientists, you talk to a journalist giving them small interviews and also watch almost every one of the projects from the young students who were allowing presenting that year.

You even talked to people you didn’t like.

You were already saying goodbye to an important human rights lawyer, that was a role model to you since you had started to think about studying law and had been asking her some questions when you heard his taut voice.

“Lovely to see you again Miss Stark, heard you got shot?”

You turned to see Norman Osborn, giving you a tight smile while Harry was behind him winking his eyes and quickly nudging to his dad and rolling his eyes. You knew you weren’t dear on Norman Osborn’s heart, especially when it came to your dad, and you ever wondered why Pepper insisted on inviting him and why he even insisted on coming to the event of someone he hated that much.

But you knew it all came back to business.

Although now, that you knew for a fact -thanks to Felicia and the events lately- that Norman had willingly given Kingpin the formula to his poisonous serum and that Harry had no idea about it; you were even more snarky and irritated to see his face than before.

“Yes, I’m fine now.” You stated curtly as you glanced at Harry for one second, you quickly took a swig of your drink. Mentally begging for this interaction to be over.

“Of course, you are dear,” He snapped with a glare. “With your father’s technology, you wouldn’t respect the hand of destiny. Such a waste of time and resources to play hero” he said as he rolled his eyes.

You gripped your drink a bit tighter and you felt like a vein on your neck had just popped off your neck. It was predictable from your past encounters with Norman Osborn that he would say something like that but as he had so seriously stated that he thought saving your life or being an Avenger was a waste? Was he being fucking serious?

Jerk.

“Careful Norman, your jealousy is showing,” you smirked as you glanced at him uninterested. “Now kindly fuck off”

Norman gapped at your answer, completely blown away that you had actually said that since you usually had been quiet about his usual remarks. His face was red with bulging eyes as the cords of his neck became rigid, completely astound and angry at your comment. You were thankful that you weren’t staying silent anymore as, in a blink of an eye, Norman spun on his heels and walked away from you, leaving you with Harry.

“Always a pleasure!” you yelled at him as he walked away, you couldn’t help the tugging on the sides of your lips and then your attention turned to Harry, who was chuckling. “Your father’s lovely”

Harry looked as good as always and sometimes you wondered how on earth someone could look like that. His sharp jaw and sleek black hair with his almond eyes made him look like a model, a smirk worth a thousand dollars and his chiseled cheekbones made girl’s and boy’s knees weak. Even when he looked as put together as he was at the moment, you could still see a mischievous gleam in his eyes, you guessed the bad boy look couldn’t fade away easily and you couldn’t help to think about the possible rumors on the tabloid if they saw you dancing with him at the party.

“Don’t tell me about it,” Harry stated as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek, slowly and seductively. “It’s nice to see you again, y/n”

He was always extremely smooth and charming, and always managed to get your heart beating someway although you knew that you weren’t really interested, it was just this aura about him.

“It’s good to see you too, H.” you answered back as you took another sip of your drink while he offered to cheer, you did the same.

As he finished taking a sip of his drink, he walked closer to you. “I’ve missed you in these events, it’s …”

“Draining?”

Harry chuckled, mostly for himself as he often did. “I was going to say annoying as fuck but yeah, that works too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment because it was true if you would like to summarize the feelings for these kinds of events -especially for your role on them and how the media would portray it-, they were annoying as fuck. But honestly, the science part and the charity part were your favorite thing in the world.

You knew that Harry felt the same way as you, the pressure to be the golden child and do everything right, but there was where Harry’s charm laid. Although he could be all of those things because he had everything in his favor, he disliked his father and the pressure so much that he rebelled against it.

And now, it had become part of him to be the bad boy.

So, it didn’t surprise you what he said next.

He leaned over to you, whispering directly on your ear and you couldn’t avoid but to feel a shiver running on your back as he whispered on your ear. “You know, you in that dress is making me think of champagne, strawberries, a bed, and us playing strip poker”

You gave a step back at him, a bit surprised by how confident his statement was, your eyes widened slightly and your cheeks flushed before you shook your head, ready to play it off casually.

But then, you heard Felicia’s characteristic silvery voice behind you.

“Get in line pretty boy,” Felicia stated, her fingernails trailing your back as she defensively wrapped her arm around your waist, glaring a bit at Harry, who rapidly blinked as if he was trying to understand the nature of your relationship with Felicia but it didn’t take him long. “Stark,” Felicia said with a smoky voice.

If you were being truthful, you were always a bit nervous around Felicia, a bit too in awe with her beauty and essence. Sometimes you were worried about how she could suck you in so easily with just a pout but then moments like this reminded you why.

Felicia’s outfit left you breathless, although you recognized it was from Versace and wondered where she had gotten it, you couldn’t avoid feeling tingles through your body. Felicia stunned with the silky lace-trimmed camisole-like minidress she was wearing, she had a dramatic smokey eye with a mate-nude lipstick that suited her perfectly, and to your surprise, she had decided to let her silver hair down and she fixed it in an almost Barbarella-like style but less dramatic that made her look like she belonged to a runway.

You could feel the burning heat on your body.

“Thought you would never come”, you whispered with a smile and before she could even respond, you pressed your lips against hers.

It was a firm but soft kiss, as if you were showing her off finally and claiming Felicia yours, as she had done with you so many times before. But now, you both were as purposeful as you could’ve been, the kiss was so sweet and it seemed like just kissing her that way, you would get a toothache. When you finally pulled apart with a shy smile while Felicia simply smirked, your foreheads pressed together, you felt like you were the only people in the world.

And then Harry spoke.

“That’s so hot” he whispered, you figured it was mostly to himself as he looked at you two wide-eyed and surprised about it.

You could see Felicia rolling her eyes in irritation as you laced your hands together but as soon as she turned around to Harry, she was displaying the cat-like grin that characterized her.

“Would you like to join us?” Felicia purred as she got a little closer to Harry, who seemed like he was about to pass out with Felicia’s words.

“Felicia!”

Peter shook his head and walked away, not wanting to listen to the end of that conversation, knowing that it would just make him break the cup of champagne that he had been holding tightly as he listened to Harry and you even before Felicia arrived. His jaw was still twitching when he walked up to Ned and Betty, whose main spot was the exhibitions that were presented, while Flash would guard the entrance and MJ with Harley would be staying on the drinking station (per Harley’s request) and Peter would be on the dance floor where most of the action would be happening.

But even with a whole plan laid out, Felicia had still managed to fool them.

“Guys she’s here” he whispered through the com as he saw all of his friends snap their gazes as they tried to look for Felicia and you, in the middle of the main floor, talking with Harry.

“How!?” Flash cried through the com. “I’ve been patrolling this entrance all night, what the hell?”

“She’s sneaky, I already told you!” Peter grumbled under his breath, loud enough for a couple of rich old people to stare at him bug-eyed, which he simply answered with an awkward smile and made his way towards where Ned and Betty were.

“What are we going to do now?” Harley asked, Peter could already tell that Harley was tensing up.

For a genius, he wasn’t good at handling his emotions under pressure.

“Just keep an eye on her.” Peter glowered as he finally arrived at where Ned was, trying to find some consolation or ideas that came from Ned who always had some positive thing to say or a good idea to add.

But Ned’s eyes were focused on something behind Peter and the wince he did, as well as Betty, tipped Peter that he should turn around.

“That’s not hard, I think that she just stepped on Harry’s Osborn foot and made him cry” Ned mused as he took a sip from his drink.

Peter watched as you dragged Felicia away from Harry, giving him an apologetic look before you were walking towards the drinking area, where Harley and MJ were.

“Harley, MJ she’s coming your way” Peter whispered, hoping that they wouldn’t be too awkward that you would realize the plan.

Not that there was any serious plan, Peter still wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He wasn’t sure what Felicia would do or if she would even do something, but he knew that she wasn’t good news, he just could feel it in his bones and hoped that at the end of the day, you wouldn’t need to find out if something happened.

He just wanted to keep you safe.

Harley turned around with MJ just in time and he gave a small smile to Felicia and you, who were walking hand-in-hand together. You were bickering a bit because of her reaction to Harry’s comment and how she had stomped on his foot with her sharp heel and she hadn’t even said ‘sorry’ arguing why she would say that to someone that sexualized you. So, you were thankful when your eyes caught MJ and Harley on the drinking station, hoping it could distract Felicia from going back and scratching Harry’s eyes.

“I know you’ve met before but this is Felicia,” you said as Felicia put on a new smile and offered her hand to Harley and MJ. “I wanted you to meet her, officially”

Harley and MJ shook Felicia’s hand cheerily, but you could feel how Harley and MJ tensed up. You could feel their anxiousness dripping from Harley’s eyes and you knew that it wasn’t normal. Harley, for a scrawny boy like him, was a bit too smug, too smooth, too relaxed for him to be acting this way.

“It’s so nice to meet y/n friends,” Felicia said playfully as she wrapped an arm around your waist and smirked up to Harley and MJ, who barely gave her a genuine smile.

“Yeah, sa-same” Harley let out, words stumbling against one another as they left their mouths.

MJ simply nodded and added a small ‘for sure’ with a honeyed voice that you knew didn’t quite fit MJ and something felt off. You frowned at their interaction, surprised mostly by how stiff they were. Did they have a problem with Felicia? You knew that Harley was certain about Felicia’s identity, not that you had discussed it but he wasn’t dumb and it made you wonder if he was feeling the same thing that Peter had told you about.

But you brushed it off, knowing that it wouldn’t be a good thing to keep Felicia there.

“I’m going to take you dancing” you offered to Felicia who gave you a gleaming smile, her cheeks tainted by a cloud of small pink dust, and you quickly dragged her off from your friends.

Your mind started whirling, wondering what was wrong with Harley and MJ? Harley had always been nothing but supportive regarding your relationship with Felicia, hell he was supportive of everything you did. MJ too, she never judged but you’d seen her acting strange since the start of the day.

“What’s wrong?” Felicia said a little bit unsettled as you turn to look at her.

But you simply shook your head, muttering a small ‘nothing’ but you couldn’t help yourself and you looked back at your friends, noticing them whispering something to themselves and you wished that you could put your suit right there and then to listen to their thoughts but knowing it was unreasonable, you decided to turn around, just in time to bump into Tony and Pepper.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your heels barely squeaking in the hallway as the two heads snapped in your directions. The first being Tony’s and the second being Peppers, who seemed to be discussing something together but the conversation immediately ended when they saw you.

“Oh,” you muttered as Tony and Pepper’s gaze down to see you, hand in hand with Felicia.

“Oh?” Tony answered back as he curved his eyebrows while he watched Felicia for a second and then his gaze went to you.

It wasn’t like you brought Felicia by surprise, you had been told weeks ago that she could come. Either way, this was a newfound territory, Peter seemed to be the only possible person you would introduce to your parents in that manner and it didn’t even count because they had known him before. Charlie was a no-go from the start, knowing deep down that you wanted to keep that friendship or relationship for yourself since you both knew it wouldn’t go pass that. But then Felicia seemed to be someone where you could, maybe, go to the next step.

“Well, y/n aren’t you going to introduce us?” Pepper said, her startled look brushing off and giving entrance to the characteristic warm smile she always wore.

Before you could even answer, Felicia’s charm was on.

“It’s so lovely to meet you Mrs. And Mr. Stark”, she smiled brightly at Pepper as she shook her hand and give her two kisses on her cheek, slightly making her voice higher than what it usually was.

“Lovely to meet you too, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” Pepper said, completely charmed by Felicia’s attitude and she quickly nudged Tony with her elbow on his ribs so he could say ‘hi’ as well, for some reason he had to stare at Felicia as if he was trying to figure out something.

You hoped it was just a parental instinct.

“We are so glad you are here; we’ve been trying to meet you but missy here was keeping you under wraps.” Tony offered Felicia his hand and she shook it firmly, with a bright smile but with the same intense gaze that Tony had in his eyes.

You chuckled at Tony’s comment, hoping it would dissipate any kind of suspicion, not that it seemed to be very successful. Pepper followed your lead and so did Tony and Felicia.

“Can’t imagine why” Felicia muttered between laughs and you feel your cheeks flushing at her comment, giving her a warning look, which she just shrugged off by kissing you on the cheek.

It made you smile.

“Okay, we are going to dance so, I’ll let you be” you announced as you realized that Tony and Pepper were still staring, quickly dragging her to the dance floor.

It wasn’t a huge dance floor, tables were surrounding the small space that was farther from the reception where everyone was and there was a small stage set up in front of you, at the moment there was just a talented pianist taking the lead. A few people were dancing, much of them were way older than you and the ones that were old enough to care about what you were doing (especially journalist) as they saw you entering the dance floor, widened their eyes.

You quickly offered Felicia your hand and she reached out, accepting your hand before you were pulling her out onto the dance floor. You caught a few people watching you but you didn’t care, you quickly placed your hands-on Felicia’s shoulder and she placed her cold hands against the skin that showed from your torso and hips. You began to sway together to the soft music playing from the piano.

“You think they notice?” Felicia asked you softly, pulling you a bit closer.

“Not at all” you lied, knowing that there might’ve been something that Tony was suspicious of, but you didn’t want to scare Felicia.

“Your dad seemed a little bit weird out,” she continued. “But I couldn’t tell if it’s because I’m a girl or because he recognized me”

“He didn’t” you assured her looking at her firmly, but you melted as she smirked at you, her eyes gleaming as you played with a strand of her hair. “Okay, but the silver hair doesn’t help”

Felicia gasped jokingly, causing you to chuckle a bit.

“Hey” Felicia complained, as she pulled you a bit closer while biting her lip. “You love the silver hair and more when it’s down”

Which was true.

“My bad” you answered with a fond smile, pressing your forehead against hers.

You kept swaying to the music, bodies pressed together as Felicia held you and guided you to the music. It felt like you were the only two people in the room, you mostly tried to keep your eyes closed, not wanting to disturb your daydream, although it was hard with the whispers of some surprised observers as they arrived on the dance floor and saw you dancing with a girl. Nonetheless, you stayed focused on Felicia’s touch on your skin, on the music that was overflowing your senses, and to the smell of cotton candy.

The only thing that woke you up from the trance you were in was Felicia’s fidgeting, you finally opened her eyes on the third time she had removed her hands from your body for about ten seconds.

“What’s wrong?” you asked her with a frown, to see Felicia’s lips pinched into a fine line.

“Everyone’s watching”

You turned around and it was true, it seemed like the majority of the party were whispering from the tables and looking into the dance floor, even Tony and Pepper seemed a bit stunned by how close you were with Felicia. You could feel Felicia’s shoulders tensing up as she watched everyone, you knew this wasn’t part of the deal when Felicia had agreed to come with you.

“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s go and eat something” you muttered as you carefully place your hand on her jaw and pulled her gaze back to yours.

Felicia shook her head and gave a step back, as she swallowed hard and then look down. It seemed as if the hairs on the nape of her neck had standup and although you could seem a gleam of regret, she was visibly done.

“Do you mind if I go to the bathroom really quick?” she asked, with a small voice and not looking at you.

You couldn’t hide your disappointment but you couldn’t blame Felicia and her discomfort. You sighed, mentally cursing everyone in the room who was making Felicia feel uncomfortable, and you felt your stomach twisting with guilt for putting her in the spotlight, something that she had never asked.

“Sure, I’ll wait for you” you answered with a slight smile, but looking at her with worried.

Felicia didn’t stutter or doubted, she quickly let go of you and walked off, some people were still looking at her as she exited the dance floor and then the room, but the gazes were still on you who remained on the dance floor. It felt a bit awkward as you stood there, all alone, and you felt kind of ridiculous.

You looked down for a second and decided that getting a drink was your best bet for not feeling dumb or guilty but before you could give another step, you bumped into Peter.

“Want to dance?” Peter offered, looking at you expectantly and you faltered.

Your eyes linked with Peter’s, who had his eyes twinkling as he looked at you with a warm smile and you felt like melting right then and thereby all means. You didn’t even felt the need to say anything to Peter, you simply took his hand and he stepped towards you, reaching to the small of your back and you held your breath as his fingertips touched your exposed skin. Then, he firmly took one of your hands in his, which he placed on his chest while you started to sway to the music. You wrapped one of your arms around his neck and felt the heat coming from Peter’s body.

As always, you felt at home in his arms with the smell of honey and cinnamon wrapping you in.

“You look really good today” you finally said to Peter, as you looked up to him.

Peter had been looking behind you and your voice snapped you out of it, he was trying to figure out where Felicia was or if she was coming back, but there were no signs of her. So, he decided to simply enjoy having you in his arms and smiled.

“Just today?”

You smiled. “You know what I mean,” you muttered as you laid your head on his chest, so he couldn’t see the small sprinkling of red to dust across your cheeks.

“Well, you look especially beautiful today,” Peter added before he stepped away and let go of your back, spinning you around under his arm before he pulled you in.

You laughed as you looked at Peter dreamily, as you remember that a part of you had wanted this to happen for a long time when you were younger. It would be almost two years since you had skipped town but there you were, harboring feelings for Peter Parker and his caramel curls with chocolate eyes, trying to push them down but now it was because you had a relationship.

“Are you having a good time?” you asked him, trying to keep your thoughts in line.

Peter nodded as he looked around. “Yeah, food is nice and some people wanted to talk to me when they realized I’m Tony’s intern”

“Well, you are the best intern,” you answered honestly with a shrug, causing Peter to give you a smug smile to which you replied almost immediately with a roll of eyes. “Don’t tell Harley I said that”

“I won’t,” Peter promised as he pulled you closer to him, he could feel he was getting overwhelmed by the characteristic vanilla smell that always surrounded you, he had you in his arms and he couldn’t help himself to ask. “Do you really think that?”

You looked at him while tilting your head as if he had asked something so obvious to you that you were surprised that Peter didn’t already know.

“You know how I feel about you,” you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself.

Peter stared at you for a minute as if you’d lost your mind by saying what you had said. He seemed so confused by the sudden second of honesty, that it made you wondered if you had screwed up again and you felt panic washing your body. But as Peter saw how alarm you’d gotten, he decided to change the topic.

“And you?” he asked before spinning you around again.

You thanked him mentally for that and give him a small smile, which he nodded to it.

“What about me?”

Peter sighed, not wanting to bring Felicia up to this moment after you had said that but he felt like he had no other choice. He groaned and then dipped his head down to your shoulder. You chuckled and placed your hand in the back of his neck, playing with his baby curls before he stood back up straight.

“Are you having a good time, with…” Peter said but his words tapered off, not wanting to say her name.

You could see how his jaw clenched but you simply rolled your eyes, thinking that Peter was somehow just being dramatic.

“You can say her name, you know?” you joked but as you look at Peter and how to set his jaw was, you felt like he was being serious.

And he was.

“I know, I just don’t want to,” Peter said bluntly and you frowned at him. “My Spidey sense just goes off.” He said with a shrug.

“Well, that’s uncalled for,” you shot at him with a haughty expression.

Peter cocked his head as he looked at you, and you felt the anger bubbling up on your chest. He seemed condescending and you hated it, you hated that he was watching you from this pretend high road.

“It’s not,” Peter grumbled.

You didn’t say anything right away as you glared at Peter, you knew Felicia was a sensitive topic but you hadn’t witness Peter this pressed or being so blunt about your relationship with Felicia. You wondered if it was because he had seen you dancing with her or just because he still didn’t like her but you didn’t need this at the moment.

“Are we going to do this again Peter?” you asked him while raising your eyebrow as if challenging him.

And Peter, who feel sheer annoyance at Felicia that stemmed from his bad feeling about her was ready to go.

“I think we need to,” Peter answered bluntly. “I just don’t trust her, y/n.”

You chuckled ironically and looked away before your eyes came back to his, the audacity. “Well, I do Peter and if I remember correctly, no one’s asking you.”

Peter shook his head at your response, feeling a bit more annoyed at how stubborn you were being. Not that he wasn’t aware that you were already stubborn.

“I know you make fun of my senses,” Peter started, as he gave you another spin, you followed his lead but you were glaring at him under your lashes. “But I’m telling you there’s something wrong and dangerous with her.”

“Peter you need to stop,” you growled under your breath as Peter rolled his eyes and tried to spin you again but you pushed him back a bit.

Peter winced at the gesture and you could feel your heart aching at Peter’s behavior, part of you felt guilty but another part of you was just hurt that he didn’t try to keep his comments to himself. Peter was the kindest person you knew, but the jealousy or whatever he was feeling about Felicia and how he tried to just throw rocks at your relationship with Felicia, simply felt just mean.

“y/n, you know I can’t let you be in danger” Peter answered honestly, and yes, you could sense the fright in his voice and see the gleam of uneasiness in his eyes, but it wasn’t fair to you.

“I’m not!” you snapped at him; a little bit louder than what you would’ve liked.

“But you are!” Peter answered with the same strength and you hoped that no one had heard you. Both of you were breathing heavily and by that point, the tension could be cut with a knife as you glared at the other but then Peter simply sighed, letting go from your body and watched you sheepishly. “and I can’t stay silent while I watch you get-what?”

You frowned at Peter’s behavior. “Peter?”

Peter swallowed hard and then his eyes traveled to the entrance, where Flash was shaking his head as he looked anxiously at Peter. He closed his eyes, knowing that after this you might even get angrier with him, probably more than what you’d ever been but at that moment he didn’t care.

Felicia had disappeared and it was a risk.

“Where’s the last time you saw her?” Peter asked as he placed his fingers on his ear, trying to listen better at the com and he watched as it dawned on you what he had been doing.

The disappointment in your eyes and then how they were washed with anger made Peter winced.

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped at him, trying to take the com out of his ear so you could talk but Peter grabbed your hands strongly, you cursed to yourself that you couldn’t overpower him at the moment or take out your suit.

People began to stare at the both of you, as you twisted your wrists to get off from Peter’s hold but it was getting harder and harder, Peter trying to listen through the com to whatever Harley was saying.

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Peter growled under his breath and then looked back at the edge of the dance floor where Flash was, you followed his gaze and quickly groaned, annoyed that all of your friends were in this together.

“Let. Me. Go!” you said as you gritted your teeth while turning to him with eyes blazing with heat, and Peter, who was gazing at you regretfully, took his hold off of you.

You pushed Peter aside and then walked towards Flash, who had this haunted expression on his face as he saw you coming his way, clearly intimidated by you.

“Give me that Flash,” you growled at the boy who was looking at you sheepishly. “I don’t want to ask twice” you threaten while raising your eyebrow and wiggling your fingers so that Flash could give you the com.

He didn’t hesitate, and you quickly put the earpiece on your ear and pulled out the wire from his shirt so you could talk to them.

“All of you need to back off, now.” You growled at them, clearly angry at what your supposed friends were doing. It seemed so extreme for them to have this whole spy thing going on to keep you away from Felicia, and it hurt. It hurt that after everything, after how much you had grown, it seemed like no one really cares about or trusted you and your choices. And you wanted to only be angry -you really did- but the words that Peter told you and how sincere they were, you felt trepidation as you thought about Felicia being loose at Stark Tower; you couldn’t help to ask. “Where was the last time you saw her?”

Peter turned from his place on the dance floor, a frown on his face and he felt somehow relief that he could hear that you were concerned about Felicia’s whereabouts too.

“She was in the bathroom,” you heard Betty’s voice in the com. “But then she just disappeared”

“I followed her there but she wasn’t on the stalls, she just sneaked out,” MJ followed but then Harley interrupted them.

“Just saw her at the edge of the entrance to the elevators,” Harley added and before he could say anything else, you walked away.

You didn’t know what you were going to catch Felicia in as you tried to move through the crowd of people on the gala, as you walked outside and glared at Harley and MJ who were watching you sorrowfully, clearly feeling shitty about what they had done but you passed by them as you walked towards the entrance to the elevators. The thing about Felicia was that most of the time, you did trust her -most of the time- but no matter how much you tried to assure yourself the same thing, you knew there was always Peter’s voice in the back of your head, saying you that she was trouble.

And you knew that it would always somehow hunt your relationship with Felicia. It’s not like she had said anything or anything she did, it was the feeling that came along with it. Her world moved too fast and her love seemed to burn too bright, but for you, how on earth is someone that was basically the opposite of what you were pulled in like she did? Even if sometimes it felt off.

“What are you doing here?” you asked Felicia, louder than you expected as you caught her against the wall while she was fixed her shoe. She was at the edge of the private entrance that Pepper had made for you to go to your apartment, it was supposed to have a guard but the person was nowhere to be found.

Felicia seemed a bit stunned as she heard you and quickly straightened herself, placed her small bag on her shoulder, and fixed her skirt. “Didn’t know it would take you so long to realize I was gone, it’s even upsetting, you know?”

You cut her game off quickly as you placed your hands on your hips and glared at her. You knew she liked to play games; it was rather obvious by now that she wouldn’t give you a straight but either way you still gave it your best shot.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” you asked her again and Felicia, who didn’t answer immediately, though the expression in her eyes grew hard to read. Her hands quickly settled on your waist and tugged you forward.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she breathed out as she gazed at your lips, but you were still glaring at her. Felicia simply rolled her eyes and before you knew it, Felicia threw you back against the wall into a bruising kiss.

You felt a bit stunned for a second but then you just let go. There was something about the kiss that was so intoxicating. Her lips were softer than ever, she tasted like champagne and cotton candy. You could feel how her hands were wondering your body and before you knew it, she was raising your skirt and pulling one of your legs up so you could wrap it around her waist. Her hands trailed then under your dress, the cool of her fingers on your inner tight made goosebumps dance across your skin. It was right then when you felt the spark of heat between your legs, you knew you were getting turned on too.

And for some reason it made you snap.

You pulled away from her and Felicia let out a soft whine of protest. Both were breathing heavily, and you could see Felicia’s lipstick all over her mouth but she was watching you with a cat-like gaze. It was right then and there were you realized that things were about to go a lot farther than what was usually intended,

“Are you drunk?” you asked her with a frown.

But Felicia shook her head. “No,” she answered honestly and her eyes flickered to your lips, her gaze darkened. “I just want you”

Before you knew it, she had her lips against yours again, tongues dancing as you let out small whimpers. You tangled your hands in her hair, nearly moaning at the feeling of her breasts against yours, you were so incredibly pressed together as you’d ever been. Felicia started to play with the rest of your dress, almost wanting to take it off and you smiled into the kiss as you tried to stop her but it was getting too hot. How her hands were loosely trailing your exposed torso, electricity dance under her skin, and then Felicia placed her knee up between your legs, nearly making you moan extremely loud.

You didn’t know if it was the champagne or the fact that the anger that you’d felt minutes ago was somehow fueling the encounter, how somehow you wanted to show that Peter was wrong. Felicia was yours and you were Felicia, there was no reason to think otherwise, and so, why you needed to wait longer?

Therefore, you didn’t hesitate when Felicia said something else. “Can we go up to your room?” she asked, it almost sounded like a whine as she touched your body.

And you simply nodded before you took her hand and pulled her into the elevator, continuing to kiss and moan and giggle as you pressed her against the elevator. It felt like something shifted as you entered the penthouse and walked her to your room.

The moment you were inside, Felicia pressed had you pressed against the wall, hands tangled in your hair as she kissed your back and began to undo your dress as quickly as she could, without ripping it. You moaned loudly as the dress finally pooled down on your feet and Felicia pressed hot open-mouth kisses to your back until she reached the small of your back and played with the thong that you had decided to wear.

“Such a pretty girl,” Felicia muttered, mostly to herself and you moaned at the thought of Felicia liking dirty talk. “And all mine”

You just whimpered at her comment, you wanted it so badly. So, you turned around and pulled Felicia by her neck up and began to undress her, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor while you drove her back to your bed. You both were just on your thongs by the time you fell onto your bed, and you quickly take the lead as you kissed her while you placed yourself on top, you then decided to press your tight between her legs this time, immediately pressing upwards and making her groan against your mouth but she quickly ground on your tight while you watched her in wonder.

Felicia’s body was perfect, you had seen her with little clothes on but this was a whole different thing. Having her on your bed, exposed as she whimpered and moan, because of your actions was a completely new feeling. Her skin was soft and dark, her hair was tousled and falling haphazardly across her face and spread on the bed, her plump breasts were bouncing by the way she was moving against you, the curve of her hips encased in the tiny black panties she was wearing, made you feel like you wanted to cry.

It would be your first time with a girl and somehow you froze, maybe just because you were just awe-struck by Felicia’s beauty or just because of the sheer fear that you could fuck this up. Felicia realized it soon and quickly raised from her place in the bed and stood from the place where she was, taking your hand and holding it tightly.

“y/n, don’t be afraid”

You simply shook your head, swallowing. “I just really want you,” you panted breathlessly and Felicia winced at your comment but before you could ask her what was wrong, her eyes shifted to your exposed breast and began to hungrily kiss them.

You massaged her scalp as she administered all the attention and devotion to your chest and you quickly fell backward, your head hit the pillows behind it as Felicia pressed herself against you. You couldn’t help to squirm and yelped as Felicia’s lips latched onto your right nipple, sucking it harshly before she changed over to the other. You were heaving and letting out small sighs as Felicia dig her fingers into the flesh of your hips and thigh, your core was dripping as you looked down to see Felicia’s eyes trained on your reaction.

She smirked as heard you whining about her stopping, she quickly pressed her lips firmly against you, her tongue playing with yours before she spoke.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” she whispered as her lips ghosted over yours but you only moaned as you felt her hardened nipples against yours.

“Hardy, don’t tease.” You complained as you cupped her face and pulled her down roughly for another kiss but she quickly pulled away with a mischievous smile.

“Come on Stark,” she panted as she looked at you. “I want to watch you beg”

You were pretty sure your mind snapped after that.

Before you knew it, Felicia pressed her digits to your clothed clit and you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes to the back of your head and opened your mouth at the sensation, but you wanted more. But you simply whined, not wanting to actually say anything but Felicia shook her head.

“Say it” she rasped.

“Please, touch me” you finally begged as you squirmed under her touch.

It was such an unbelievable turn on to hear Felicia’s dark laugh before she slipped her hand into your panties, stroking your entrance with her fingers as she nipped your earlobe. Your breath hitched, and you moaned, holding onto the sheets of your bed as she pumped a finger, and then two inside of you as she worked on your wetness. You gasped in bliss and soon you were arching your hips to get closer to her hand as waves of fire passed through your body, she was so good to you.

She was pressing against all your sensitive spots as she placed hot kisses on your mouth and wherever she could, it didn’t take too long for you to scream her name, your walls flittered around her fingers and your breath began to come in ragged pants. You didn’t know exactly how it happened since you were feeling so busy as she administered all the attention to your core, but soon your mouth found Felicia’s shoulder and before you knew it you bite into her skin, she whimpered and moaned at your reaction.

“Fuck…” she moaned as she dipped her head onto your shoulder, having to stop one second.

And you felt able to breathe again and before Felicia could protest, you switched positions and quickly took Felicia’s arms and placed them over her head.

She giggled.

“Didn’t take you for a top, y/N!” she screamed at the end as you placed two fingers on her core without much anticipation and began to administer the same care to her as she had done for you.

You pushed Felicia’s panties off her legs and spread her legs wider, you wanted to watch how she came undone under you. It was almost hypnotic how your fingers would get lost on her core and how you would be touching her in all the right spots, you then pressed on her clit with your thumb and it just made her moan louder, you went deeper and incomprehensible noises left Felicia’s lips. It was just too much and before you knew it, you simply dived down between her legs.

Felicia tasted like candy and you hummed into her core as you buried your mouth inside of it, tongue on her entrance and making her scream your name. You quickly placed your hands under her legs and grabbed her hips tightly as you continued administering attention to her core, with so much love and care that it seemed like you would die if you weren’t pleasuring her. Then you wrapped your lips around her clit and flicked it with your tongue before you continue to kiss her and in that second one of her hands flew to your head, tugging your hair.

You smiled as you watched her edging, you quickly decided to touch and grab her butt, pulling her in even closer. But before you knew it, Felicia was raised from her position ad pulling away from you, she grabbed you by your chin and captured your lips into a vulgar kiss, her tongue tangling sensually with yours.

But you pulled away. “I wanted to make you cum,” you panted as she licked her lips, tasting herself before she shook her head.

“I’ll make you cum first,” she whispered before she threw you against the bed, a little bit too harsh. “It’s an order,” she said and you felt a shiver ran down your spine because of the anticipation.

Felicia smiled, you could see her cheeks flushed pink and her cat-like grin as she placed a peck against your lips and began to kiss your body, from your chest to your middle to your core. The way Felicia was licking you, sucking you, seemed like too much. You might’ve screamed, moaned, gasped, or all three at once, maybe you whined but you couldn’t remember. It almost seemed like you had blacked out by how she was kissing you down there, how she was pressing on your clit and fucking you with her mouth.

It wasn’t like when Peter had already done it but for obvious reasons, this seemed more intense. The way Felicia was so purposefully working on you, had you gasping for air. It was wild, just like Felicia was, it was pure heat and fire, sweat dripping from your naked skin as Felicia held you down so hard that she probably left bruises. She knew what she was doing to you and it became more than obvious that she wanted to keep going as you felt the fire pooling on your stomach and your legs began to shake, it didn’t take long for you to feel yourself clenching and shuddering around Felicia’s tongue or fingers and you started to come apart at the seams.

Felicia smiled as she felt it and look at you screaming her name, everything exploding with fire as wave after wave of your orgasms seized your body. White light danced on your vision and ripples of blinding pleasure erupted through your body. Your breath was labored as Felicia came back up and pressed her lips against yours, while you tried to catch your breath and slowly drifted back to earth after your release.

“You were so good,” Felicia whispered as she placed small kisses over your body and then quickly stood from the bed into the bathroom of your room.

You were still trying to recover as you watched her naked body entering the bathroom and then heard how she used the sink before she came out with a towel and carefully cleaned you. You smiled at Felicia who quickly put her underwear on and began to look for her dress while you watched her from the bed.

It was such a completely new experience for you, that you were still a bit in awe about what had happened, you quickly put on your underwear and wrapped the towel around your torso while Felicia looked at herself in your large mirror while she fixed her make-up and her dress. Part of you was extremely happy that it had finally happened but then, another part of you wished that Felicia could just stay in bed and talk to you about it.

“That was…” you started, hoping that it would pull her in.

But both of your heads snapped at the loud noise coming from your door. There was knocking a loud, knocking on your door and as the seconds passed it became almost violent.

“y/n?” Felicia asked as she took her jacket and her pursed and walked back to one of the corners of your room, the one farther away from your door.

You frowned at the incessant knocking and quickly took the towel off, running to get your dress and putting it on as the pounding continued. You were still trying to zip your dress and jumped when you finally got close to the door and ordered HAPPY, your AI, to open the door.

As the door opened your eyes widened as you looked at Peter barging into the room. Peter glanced at you and he stayed still for a moment, he could tell almost immediately and it felt like someone had just punched all the air out of his lungs. He saw your disheveled hair and how your dress wasn’t fully zipped, he could also see the messy blankets behind you on your bed and he had to close his eyes for a second, otherwise, he was sure he would’ve broken something at the moment.

He hated it, Felicia had been successful at sucking you in and now Peter knew why.

He finally opened his eyes and decided to get back to what he was doing, he shot a glare at Felicia.

“Felicia,” Peter growled as he walked closer to her while Felicia took a defensive stance.

Before he could get somehow closer, you walked in front of Peter and stopped him. Firmly placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back, defending Felicia.

“What do you want, Parker?” you growled at him but Peter didn’t place the attention on you, instead he stared at Felicia disdainfully.

Peter didn’t want to talk to you about it, if his wishes came true, you wouldn’t even be in the room right now. It was taking all his willpower not to drag you out of the room and lock you out before he began to try to capture Felicia, he just didn’t want to hurt you in the process.

“Give it back, Felicia.” He growled once more and you could see his hands forming into fists, he was holding it so tightly that you were sure that Peter would get moon marks on his palms.

But you brushed the thought off as the words of Peter dawned on you. You frowned at Peter’s comment and you turned towards Felicia, who was giving another step back as she defensively looked at you.

“What are you talking about?” you asked Peter coldly, while your eyes were still linked to Felicia’s greyish-purple eyes.

“Your girlfriend stole the repulsor prototype!” Peter snapped at her and you felt your heart sinking on your chest. “I checked the security footage; she stole it and she’s going to give it to-”

“Shut up!” Felicia’s angry scream cut off Peter as you could feel your head shaking automatically at Peter’s accusation.

There was no way Felicia had done it, otherwise, it would mean that nothing that had happened with you was true, that the feelings that you were harboring with Felicia were based on a lie, that she had never cared or loved you, that Peter was right, that she was only using you.

And then your eyes fell onto her hands and how hard and tight she was holding her small bag.

“Felicia…”

The way Felicia’s eyes were almost tearing up, how she glanced away from you wanting to avoid your gaze and her chin began to tremble. It was almost palpable the regret on her, the guilt seemed to be eating her alive and you felt like you wanted to vomit.

“Felicia, tells me it’s not true,” you whispered once more as you looked at her, you felt your tears pooling in your eyes but Felicia didn’t move. “Answer me!” you screamed at her, it ripped through your chest and it was so loud that both, Felicia and Peter, jumped at your reaction.

Peter could feel the weight of your emotions on his shoulders, he knew that he had fucked up by bringing you into this but there was no other way, Felicia was on a mission and Peter couldn’t allow her to finish it.

“Felicia, you don’t have to go to Kingpin,” he offered while he stepped forward to where you were standing but Felicia simply chuckled ironically.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about Spidey” she spat at him while she quickly took a defensive stand and let her heels on the floor, she was ready to fight.

But Peter wanted nothing of the sort.

“We don’t want anyone getting hurt,” he insisted but before he could add something, both Felicia and you spoke.

“Too late for that,” Felicia’s silvery and wobbly voice said at the same time with your wavery and soft voice.

You looked at each other with so much hurt in your eyes that you wanted to explode into tears right there and then but the anger and the rage were too much. The feeling of betrayal ran through your body like fuel and before you knew it, you were tapping your breacelet and the nanobots began to spread on your arm and before you knew it, you were shooting your repulsors at Felicia.

Felicia, as talented as she was, quickly dodge your shots but soon Peter took out his webs and began to fire them as Felicia tried to avoid both of your attacks on her in your room. You tried not to care as you would blow up a part of your room, simply wanting to catch Felicia before she did something stupid but before you knew it, she was placing the sleeves of her suit. Her claws appearing from one moment to another as she secured the bag across her body and began to perform a serious act of gymnastics while she tried to avoid you.

Peter managed to get one of Felicia’s ankle’s as she finished performing a backflip to dodge one of your repulsors shots but when she fell onto the floor, she swiftly glanced down at the web and cut it with her nails before she was avoiding your hits too, in one second you fire your window, destroying part of your room and also allowing the cold wind of November to hit you, but Felicia smirked at your mistake.

“Don’t go Felicia”, you growled at her but she simply glanced at you with red eyes.

Before you knew it, she was taking the repulsor out of her bag, the gauntlet where Harley and Tony had decided to place the repulsor for more standard trials on her hand. She placed it on hers and before you knew it, she was pointing at you.

You weren’t wearing your full suit at the moment, simply your arms but Felicia just closed your eyes and looked away, then she fired at you. Peter realized it and quickly tried to grab you so he could avoid you getting blown up but he was too late, your fingers brushing before the explosion sent you off to different parts of the room. Your body hit the wall, hard, you felt your head bouncing against it and then you fell onto the floor that was filled with debris and broken glass.

Your vision turned blurry and the last thing you remembered was Felicia watching you from the window before she quickly jumped out, then everything turned black.

***

taglist: @spideylovin @fandomtrash100 @soullessbabee @liljennyx3

***

i’m so sorry for the delay and like for the typos you might find in this chapter bUT IT’S FINALLY UP AND WE HAVE ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT. I had to cut this chapter so I could make the next one a bit longer and this one shorter, next one we are getting a reveal and also tears and post break up glow.

Last chapter didn’t got any reblogs or notes but it was okay because it allowed me to take my time to write this one and part of the next one. Although Im really excited to see what are your thoughts about the smut with Felicia and Felicia in general. Only one of you saw it coming I think hehe. But i’m really happy about the fact that we only have to chapters left. I love to hear your theories. and i’m always really happy that you are enjoying this with me and i hope you are happy with this chapter, either if you are team felicia or team peter.

as always, the new sneek peak for the next chapter is going to be on. the masterlist if you want to see what’s coming next!

please please please let me know your thoughts and opinions on this chapter and if you have ANY theories or comments I would love to see them!!! I’m already so happy with the love you have given to the last chapters, I really hope you like it! any feedback is well received and thank you so much!

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

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Late Nights

This is 2.5k words of fluff and essentially no plot. Set a week after the events of ICLU. I wrote the first part back in May right after I got the idea for ICLU and have been sitting on this ever since.

*****

When the letters and numbers on the screen finally blurred beyond recognition, Riley closed the program she’d been working on and put the lab computer to sleep. Her eyes burned. She was horribly behind on developing this program; it needed to start beta testing days ago, but the team’s back to back multi-day ops and her impromptu trip with the Coltons on her supposed day off consumed all of her time and energy this week.

Posing as a think tank, the Phoenix did have to do think tank-y things on occasion, after all, and every agent was expected to contribute to the organization’s public projects. Including a certain physically and emotionally exhausted hacker.

Mac sat across from her, fidgeting with spare robot parts. Riley checked the time. 10:58 pm. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. She vaguely recalled Bozer teasing her about not spending the night in his lab again. Pointing at Mac, he’d said, “Good thing he’s just as much of a workaholic as you are.” Riley knew Mac was just there to keep her company—and because they’d carpooled—not because he needed to keep working, but she hadn’t bothered to correct Bozer.

Groaning, Riley let her head fall into her hands. It felt like some invisible force was squeezing her skull, slowly crushing it like a grape. She needed to go to bed. Possibly forever.

“You okay?” She glimpsed Mac’s concerned frown between her fingers.

“Yeah,” she replied, dragging her hands through her hair. “I have a headache, that’s all.” Understatement of the century. “How long until you’re done?”

Mac looked unconvinced; when it came to her, he didn’t miss much. Mercifully, he didn’t push for a more elaborate answer. “Um, I need a few more minutes to finish this, plus maybe fifteen more to clean up. Bozer will kill me if I leave a giant mess in his lab.” Riley managed a small smirk. Indeed he would.

Riley figured it would be at least a half hour before he was ready to leave. Just enough time for a nap. “Take your time, Mac.” She stood, hauling her backpack onto her shoulder. “I’m going to take a nap. Come find me when you’re ready to go.” He nodded.

Sleep beckoning, Riley left the lab in search of a comfy chair.

*****

Thirty minutes later, Mac found her curled up in her favorite chair in the war room. Knees tucked into her chest, head cradled in the crook of her elbow, she looked breathtakingly peaceful.

He regretted waking her the moment he gently shook her shoulder. Riley grumbled something unintelligible that might have been his name.

“Time to go home, Riles.” Mac shouldered her backpack and helped her out of the chair.

Riley could barely open her eyes. She took one staggering step forward and nearly wiped out on the table she definitely didn’t realize was right in front of her. He knew she was exhausted—he was too—but this was alarming. She was burning herself out on the least important part of her job, and Mac didn’t understand why. A problem for tomorrow, he decided.

Mac wrapped an arm around her waist, helping keep her upright. “Thank you,” she mumbled. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

Mac’s truck sat alone in the underground lot. He was immensely grateful he and Riley had carpooled to work that day. Otherwise, if he hadn’t stayed to keep her company while she worked, she definitely would’ve spent the whole night in that war room chair.

They drove home in silence. Riley quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat, head resting on the window.

She was still out cold when he parked his truck in the driveway, and Mac couldn’t bring himself to wake her up twice in one night. He slid his arms around her back and under her knees and carried her inside, and Mac’s heart melted when she snuggled her face into his shoulder. He could hold her like this forever. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured.

Mac laid her on the guest bed and rested her backpack against the nightstand. He quickly unlaced her boots and pulled them off, revealing bright yellow and orange striped socks. He chuckled, imagining her muttering at him to stop laughing at her socks.

Grabbing a makeup wipe from the guest bathroom, it took him a few minutes to remove her stubborn eyeliner. No wonder, he’d seen it withstand blazing infernos, days in the woods, blood, sweat, tears, everything.

He tucked her under the covers before retrieving her favorite pajama shirt—an old t-shirt of his—and shorts. Mac left them at the foot of Riley’s bed, so she could change into them whenever she woke up.

Riley curled into a loose ball, snuggling her face deeper into her pillow, and Mac couldn’t help but worry as he closed the door halfway and retreated to his room.

*****

Riley awoke in the middle of the night to her bra’s underwire stabbing her in the chest. She blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. She definitely wasn’t in the war room anymore.

It took longer than Riley cared to admit to realize she was back in Mac’s guest bedroom—her bedroom for the year she’d lived with him. Mac must’ve taken her home from the Phoenix.

Riley rolled onto her back, and her underwire stabbed her again. Fuck this, she thought, yanking off her tank top, then her bra, and sighing in relief as the straps fell down her shoulders. Chucking them both on the floor, she noticed the stack of clothes at the foot of her bed, blending in so well with the dark sheets Riley almost missed them. She smiled, silently thanking the man sleeping across the hall, and changed into her pajamas.

While debating whether to stay or join Mac, Riley stretched her back and hips, joints popping softly. She could be lazy and spend the rest of the night in her old room, or she could go cuddle with her boyfriend, but that would require getting up. But if she got up, she could also brush her teeth.

Had she even had dinner? Riley couldn’t remember. Her brain was still foggy.

Ultimately, her desire to sleep with Mac and brush her teeth won out, and Riley hauled herself out of bed and across the hall, feet barely lifting off the ground with each step.

Mac was a pretty light sleeper, so Riley slipped into bed beside him as quietly as she could. He stirred, but didn’t wake. Sinking into the mattress, Riley knew switching beds was the right choice. Her body relaxed more in Mac’s presence. She’d never realized how lonely exhaustion was, not until she had someone she could freely share with and who could empathize with her. Even so, she’d still lied earlier about how she really felt, mostly for the sake of her dignity. Mac was her best friend, but Riley was loath to outright admit to weakness, even to him.

She wanted to snuggle into his warmth and tuck her face between his shoulder blades, but that would surely wake him up. And waking Mac up would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer just yet. So, Riley stuck to her side of the mattress, tucked her legs into her chest, and went back to sleep.

*****

When Mac’s alarm went off, he wasn’t alone. Riley had snuck into his bed at some point and now curled into a tiny ball, facing away from him.

He wished they didn’t have to go to work today, wished they could sleep in and he could pry some answers from her. But the world wouldn’t save itself.

He texted Matty. Please don’t send us on an op someone else could do. Riley’s burning herself out, and I can’t figure out why.

I’ll keep an eye on her, Matty replied immediately.

Thank you.

Leaning over to kiss his girlfriend’s cheek, Mac got up and went for a run.

He did an easy three miles around the neighborhood, letting the cool dawn air wake him up. Mac smiled every time he passed someone else out for a run or walking their dog before the July sun made leaving the house practically unbearable.

When he returned, Mac found Riley awake and making coffee for them both. Her back was to him, so Mac scanned her body for signs of stress or injury, finding neither. “Good morning,” he said to break the silence.

Riley turned to him, bleary-eyed and still half asleep, and held out a steaming mug of coffee. Mac accepted, kissing her cheek in gratitude. It shocked him how easy it all was. She croaked, “How was your run?”

Mac couldn’t deny the way seeing Riley in his clothes affected him—the same way, he realized guiltily, the sight had always appeased some primal, possessive part of his brain, even when they were just friends—but damn it hit differently when she wore a sleepy, lovesick smile and had just crawled out of his bed. Riley had always been his girl, but now she was his girl.

The whole scene was sweet and domestic and everything he’d ever wanted.

“Good,” he finally answered. “I even stopped to say hi to our favorite dog.” An elderly couple who lived a few streets away had a mini Aussie, who was quite possibly the happiest being in the universe. She would trot alongside her humans without a leash, but when Mac or Riley appeared, she whined and whined until her owners said “Go ahead,” and she’d come barreling full-force into Mac or Riley’s chest and lavish them with endless kisses. Her name was Freya.

Riley’s eyes lit up in excitement. “My dog!” Mac chuckled, sliding onto one of the bar seats tucked below the counter.

Changing the subject, Mac tried to be nonchalant when he asked, “How do you feel this morning?” Worry crept into his voice anyway.

“Better,” Riley said, the mug hiding her face as she sipped her coffee. “Thanks for taking me home.”

Of course he took her home. Even if they weren’t dating, Mac still would’ve taken her home and given her his clothes. There was no universe in which he wouldn’t do that.

“Like I was going to let you spend the night in that chair,” he replied. Riley toyed with the hem of her shirt, her usual lively presence vanishing like a turtle retreating into its shell. Mac probed, “What’s up?” She sighed, still looking down. “Riles?”

When she finally looked up, Riley’s eyes were heavy with guilt. “Do you know how many times I almost got us killed this week?” Mac waited. “Twice. I led us—led you—right into traps I should’ve seen from a mile away. And before that, I gave you a fucking panic attack that sent you driving through the middle of nowhere to come find me!” Her voice crescendoed. “And now? Now I can’t even get that stupid program to work right! I just want to be able to do one thing right. One thing! Is that too much to ask?” Riley let out a loud, frustrated groan, shoulders caving inward.

Mac stayed in his seat, letting Riley have her space. He knew she didn’t like being coddled when she was frustrated. “I almost get us killed constantly,” he reminded her. “It’s part of our job. No one is holding it against you, especially not me. And that panic attack was the best thing to happen to me, because without it we’d still be waiting for one of us to find the courage to confess. This is going to sound hypocritical coming from me, but you can’t beat yourself up about that stuff.”

Riley snorted. “Very hypocritical.”

“You have to take the small wins as they come, okay? We’re not dead! We had sex! The important stuff!”

“I see you have your priorities together.” Her tone was snarky, but Mac caught her smile between sips of coffee.

“If we didn’t have to go to work I’d bend you over the counter and tell you how hot you look in my shirt.”

Mac impressed himself with how casually he managed to say that; he could only imagine Riley’s merciless teasing if his voice had cracked.

Riley blushed, even as she cautiously said, “We could do that anyway.”

The apprehension in her voice hit Mac like a bucket of cold water. He couldn’t just say things like that to his girlfriend of two days. Or maybe she was his best friend and he didn’t care. Mac couldn’t decide. This thing between them was so new, yet it felt like they’d been together forever. The butterflies lasted forty-eight hours, tops, before the calm sense of belonging, of home, washed over them. Mac had never had that happen so quickly in a relationship before. Usually it took weeks or even months, not two days.

“It’s not like they’re going to know,” Riley added.

That made the decision for him. “Are you kidding me? If we walk in late together, they’ll absolutely know why. They’re like professional mind readers! We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Correction,” Riley said. “You’ll never hear the end of it. Desi and Bozer will just high five me and say, ‘Nice.’”

Mac frowned. She was right, unfortunately. He finished the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter last sip. Placing his mug in the sink, Mac said, “Seriously though, I want you to feel safe sharing with me when you feel like this, Riles.” He leaned against the sink. “Let me help you.”

Riley crossed to him, finally closing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Okay,” she agreed, head resting on his shoulder. She sighed. “I really don’t want to go to work today, but if I get any more behind on that damn project I am going to pull my hair out.”

Mac pressed a single kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful. Please don’t pull it out.” Gently, he unwound Riley’s scrunchie, letting her hair tumble down her back so he could play with it.

“Just for you.”

They stood like that as long as they could, before they really did need to get ready for work. “I need to shower,” Mac finally said, ruining the quiet moment. “Care to join me?”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to be late.”

A very serious shower,” Mac amended. “No funny business.”

“Right.” Riley kissed him until Mac couldn’t hold back his grin. “No funny business. Now where have I heard that before?”

Laughing, Mac dragged his girlfriend toward the bathroom.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #three updates in a week?#who am i??#i+can't+lose+you #sort of an epilogue but not really

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Note

Ok, on Pep Talks, does Ghost Oboro get to talk to everybody after the battle? Like how does that go.

Shouta had spent more time in the hospital this year than he had in the entire rest of his career combined. Considering how dumb he’d been as a new graduate and how quickly he usually tried to leave the hospital (to the horror of Hizashi and his students), that painted a rather grim picture.

He leaned back against the bed and let his eyes drift closed. Visiting hours were over, now. His students had all been sent back home or back to their rooms.

Today, no, these last two days, the actual battle had been yesterday, had been... well. At least no one had lost any limbs. Not even Midoriya. Although the coma was arguably worse.

Fenton and Shirakumo had not stuck around. Despite Fenton’s promises of an explanation, which, in retrospect, had probably been for Shirakumo, not Shouta.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

Shouta wasn’t even sure what Fenton had done. Clearly, he hadn’t rolled back Shirakumo’s time, like Eri might have. Shirakumo had never had yellow eyes. Those belonged to Kurogiri. Except they didn’t, because Kurogiri didn’t have irises or sclera, and those had both been quite clear yesterday. But Shouta didn’t know what else could break through a decade and a half of brainwashing and programming and who knew what else.

Shouta didn’t know if Shirakumo had traded one master for another.

Perhaps he would have been more at ease if Shirakumo had spoken to him at all, but beyond the radio (which may very well have been another wonderful hallucination) he had been silent. It was, to say the least, extremely uncharacteristic. But considering what had been done to him- Years of trauma would change a person. Maybe it was characteristic.

(Fenton’s words suggested that Shirakumo had been speaking to him, back on that awful day. Somehow. It didn’t make sense.)

The door opened, and Shouta tensed, reaching for the call button. He had injuries he hadn’t learned how to compensate for, yet, and his weapons were stored elsewhere, but if any villain was breaking in, he’d be sure to give them-

Oh.

“Hi,” said Fenton, walking in. Shirakumo lingered in the doorway behind him, before offering up a hesitant grin and flashing a victory sign.

In the heat of the battle, it had gone over his head, but both of them looked so young. Almost the same age as his students. He flashed his quirk at them, just for the split second he could. No change. At least they weren’t Toga.

“So,” said Shouta. He hadn’t decided whether or not to push the button to call for help, yet. Technically, Shirakumo was a villain. One that had escaped from Tartarus, no less. “Care to explain?”

Fenton had the gall to look sheepish. “If I’m not whisked away before I get anywhere important, sure.”

Shouta gave the pair of them a glare he usually reserved for his students. Shirakumo looked away, sticking his hands into the pockets of his vest, and Fenton hunched his shoulders and slid into a chair.

“Where do you want to start?”

How was he supposed to even begin to prioritize? His eyes fell on Shirakumo.

“How are you...” he gestured, hopelessly. Alive. Here. So young. “How,” he settled, “are you?”

Shirakumo opened his mouth, closed it again, and held up a finger before starting to search his pockets.

“Uh, yeah,” said Fenton. “There are consequences to, well, everything. Side effects.” He waved a hand at Shirakumo. “Especially when you’re cheating death.”

“That didn’t seem to be a problem before.”

Shirakumo let out a breathless hah! of triumph and held up a pocket radio. “It wasn’t me before!”

Shouta blinked slowly at the device and then at Shirakumo. He was, Shouta noticed, wearing the fingerless gloves that had once been part of his hero costume. They paired oddly with the formalwear. “What?”

“Kurogiri wasn’t me! Well, he was, but... not? It’s hard to explain... You were always better at this kind of thing.” Shirakumo shrugged.

“I... The important thing is that you’re you,” he said.

“Yeah!” agreed Shirakumo, pumping his fist.

“We really needed to let your parents know-

“No,” said Shirakumo.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Fenton said. “All things considered.”

“But everything you did, Shirakumo, it-”

“Actually, can you call me Cloud? Names are... weird right now.”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m okay with my original name, but our circumstances are slightly different.”

Shouta held his breath for two long beats. “Sure,” he said, “I can do that. Fenton-san, are you saying that you were also a nomu?” It would certainly explain his eclectic abilities and how he had brought back Shirakumo.

“No, gross. And call me Danny, really. I didn’t even know they were a thing, but I guess it explains what Clockwork meant by ‘start researching something dangerous fifty years too soon.’ Didn’t Midoriya-san and Toshinori-kun tell you about me?”

His student. Yes. They had. Reluctantly, Shouta tabled his questions about Shira- about Cloud. He looked... alright. It was Midoriya who was in danger at the moment.

“You know what’s going on with Midoriya’s quirk, don’t you?” he asked. “You know what’s happening with One for All, and why he wont wake up.”

“Yes,” said Fenton, after a moment. “So, they did tell you about it.”

“Well?” prompted Shouta, irritably.

Fenton made a face. “In simple terms? He’s buffering. It’s- His quirk jumped forward a few places, yesterday. You saw it, didn’t you?”

“The flying? Yes.”

“It was more than that,” said Fenton. “But... yeah. It’s a combination of quirk exhaustion, his injuries, and, uhm, One for All trying to load him, basically. He’ll be fine.”

“Why are you so fixated on him, anyway? Midoriya showed me his notes. It’s more than just him being the next One for All user.”

Fenton’s eyes flicked up and down Shouta’s length, assessing. “Are you sure you want me to answer that? You can’t unknow it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, well. Someday,” said Fenton, “Midoriya is going to be like me. Like us, really,” he gestured at himself and Cloud, who waved. “I always wanted someone to have been there for me, so... And it’s my fault he’s even in this position to begin with.”

“And,” said Shouta, marveling at how quickly they had come back to the topic, “what are you two exactly?”

“We’re dead!” said Cloud, still speaking through the radio.

“No, you’re not,” said Shouta.

“I mean, it isn’t wrong, per se,” said Fenton, rubbing his face. “It was his body, you saw back there.”

“Ehhhh, can we not talk about that?”

“Sorry,” said Fenton. “The best way to put it.... Have you ever heard of quirk singularity?”

“Are you saying your quirks went through singularity?” Because they had multiple quirks combined... although, nothing had ever indicated that Kurogiri had a quirk that allowed him to treat radios like that.

“Kind of,” said Fenton. “Better to say we are the quirks. Sort of. It’s complicated.” He rocked a hand back and forth. “They’re... quirks are connected to a person’s consciousness, right? But, they’re also attached to the body. When a person dies, their quirk still lingers for a while after.”

“That’s what happened to me!” said Cloud, raising his hand. “When that rubble hit me, I was dead right away, but I had to do something!”

“Right, he woke up and reached out the only way he could. Radio.”

“But,” said Shouta, “your quirk didn’t do anything like that.”

“Singularity,” said Fenton, shrugging. “Quirks... are a lot more than you think they are. It changed, because that’s what he had to do.”

“I can still make clouds, though, don’t worry!” said Cloud, spinning one off his finger.

“You’re saying, Midoriya is going to die.”

“Eventually, yes. Everyone dies. Not everyone winds up like this.”

“All for One. Will he...?”

Fenton grinned, showing fangs. “If he does, you won’t have to worry about it.” The grin faded. “Unfortunately, I’m explicitly not allowed to do anything to him unless he does something to me, first, so...” Fenton shrugged, as if he didn’t just brush off defeating the greatest villain of all time as if it were nothing.

Fenton stood up and stretch. “We’re almost out of time. Cloud, are you sure you want to stay?”

“I’m sure,” said Cloud. “I still have things to do here.”

“Well, you know how to get in touch. Remember what I said.” He turned back to Shouta, who had discretely started to thumb the nurse call button. “Don’t feel bad about Midoriya-san. He can still live out his life. Just... Help him, will you? He needs the support.”

“If anyone can do it, you can, Shouta!” said Cloud, grinning like a loon.

Fenton nodded and glanced at the clock on the wall before disappearing.

“Right!” said Cloud. “That’s my cue to go.”

“I thought you were staying,” protested Shouta, as Cloud left the radio on a nearby table and went to the window. He started to get up.

“In this time. The place...” He grinned ruefully as he slid the window open and squeezed out. “I think you understand. Stay strong, Shouta! I believe in you!”

“Shirakumo! Don’t-!” It was too late. He was already surfing away on a cloud.

The nurse arrived moments later.

#danny phantom #bnha #ask #answer #dp/bnha crossover #pep talks #prompt fill #prompt

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dreabbles · 4 years ago

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kimetsu rescue

headcanons for a bondi rescue x kimetsu no yaiba au(-ish), featuring giyushino

both giyuu and shinobu are lifeguards at the country’s most popular beach along with the rest of the hashira (muichiro is a trainee while the rest of the kimetsu cast are volunteer lifesavers)

giyuu was formerly a competitive swimmer and water polo player along with childhood friends, sabito and makomo. he still plays waterpolo on the weekends.

shinobu’s a part-time paramedic whose skills are invaluable especially when it comes to drastic, near-death rescues.

while the program focuses on the rescues completed by the whole team during the summer season, fans quickly noticed the chemistry between giyuu and shinobu.

the pair has since grown interest, especially on social media.

more on shinobu

because she’s tiny, head lifeguard ubuyashiki prefers that she man the tower instead of go out for rescues. she agrees for the most part, but when she’s on patrol, she does manage a few saves as long as they’re not overwhelmingly more than her size.

learnt how to use the jet ski to conduct rescues instead of using the board. she’s the main jet ski driver and would instruct trainees on how to use it.

is more often than not sent on crowd control because she’s charming and she knows how to keep control of the situation. is also sent to deal with comforting lost kids because of her motherly demeanour.

was inspired by her older sister, kanae, to be a lifeguard. kanae is also a lifeguard/paramedic but has been assigned at a different beach with less experienced lifeguards to conduct a year-long training program. younger sister kanao is a trainee lifeguard while aoi is a volunteer lifesaver.

almost a celebrity with how everyone knows her from the program. gets stopped often on the streets for photos.

the scoop on giyuu and shinobu, as told by colleagues

gyomei: “they have excellent teamwork. despite the lack of communication from tomioka’s side, he takes on instruction the best from kocho. we usually send them on patrols together. everything goes smoothly when they’re a team.”

muichiro: “kocho’s a good mentor. she looks after me and tomioka well.”

obanai: “kocho’s fine. the team benefits from her addition. tomioka, on the other hand...don’t even get me started on him.”

sanemi: “...what exactly about them do you want to know?”

kyojuro: “the usually hang out when off-duty as well! i sometimes join them, but most of the time it’s just the two of them. they aren’t dates, though! they’re adamant about that.”

mitsuri: “they’re the cutest! did you know that shinobu would usually poke tomioka? before, he’d just brush her away but since about a year or two ago, maybe, he’s started holding onto her hand to get her to stop instead. it’s really cute! they hold hands under the table when they think nobody’s watching! oh no! i don’t think i should have said that!”

tengen: “i’m pretty sure they fuck.”

rumor has it

giyuu and shinobu are each other’s first kisses.

VERDICT: confirmed. no other explanation needed.

giyuu and shinobu were once found naked in the beach, on top of each other, one summer evening

VERDICT: denied. shinobu admits to having late-night strolls, but not to the frolicking. “there’s too much sand for that sort of thing.”

giyuu and shinobu engage in excessive PDA

VERDICT: denied, especially when on-duty. they jobs are of high importance and they can’t afford to be distracted by each other. they don’t even hold hands in their “hang-outs”. now, people walking into their personal space while they’re doing more than just sitting next to each other is a different thing.

giyuu and shinobu live together.

VERDICT: confirmed. it cuts on individual rental costs. kanao and aoi also live with them.

giyuu and shinobu are an official item.

VERDICT: confirmed and denied. it’s a complicated relationship that even their colleagues don’t understand.

behind the camera

giyuu is very affectionate when it comes to shinobu. crew members have noticed that he’d always bring her coffee in the mornings and would carry her bag for her on their way home (despite her protests).

shinobu deeply cares for giyuu. she’s always there as support for his confessional interview and would sometimes lead him when he gets lost for words. she pokes him when she knows he’s getting restless, to comfort him.

they do get jealous, though instances have been scarce. giyuu’s used to seeing men melt at the sight of shinobu, but there was one instance when she actually entertained a man which made the frown on giyuu’s face grow deeper. he felt better when she later on punched the man. shinobu’s jealousy is more easily detected, but she’s also quick to shoo away the people that make her feel such ugly feelings.

though they don’t go for dates, they do sometimes “hang out” at classy restaurants where they need to dress up. they clean up well.

they get into disagreements at times, and they’d be in a cold war for the most part of the day (though they make sure it won’t affect work) until one of them takes initiative to make amends. shinobu’s style is to latch her pinky onto giyuu’s on their way home. giyuu’s is to leave a note in her locker. they talk about everything when they get home and, when they come in work the following morning, they’re back to normal.

undercover(s) // suggestive scenes

giyuu wear speedos occasionally, partly because he’s used to them, but mostly to tease shinobu. he knows she likes seeing him in them, and it’s obvious to everyone when she tries not to look at his package. (when they’re left to man the tower alone, she does sometimes give in to the temptation of caressing it while watching the ocean. she’s skilled like that.)

she gets back at him by prancing about with nothing but flimsy lace on. (she’d have told aoi and kanao to sleep over at their friends’ for the meantime.) she’s pretty accustomed to seeing giyuu naked--they have different rooms, but she’d sometimes had to wake him up and be greeted by his morning wood saluting her--but giyuu doesn’t have much opportunity to see her bare. she runs away from him each time he tries to touch her.

when they sleep together, they usually do it in giyuu’s room because it somehow excited shinobu more. giyuu doesn’t mind; his trusted stash of contraception is within arm’s reach if they’re in his room.

they sometimes get adventurous and take suggestions from tengen. giyuu’s favorite experiment so far is the use of whipped cream when shinobu was going down on him. the experience was sensational. shinobu’s was leaving the curtains open for the night.

they like their after-sex cuddling and spooning. they bask in the afterglow of each other and though giyuu is an early riser, he doesn’t mind killing time on the bed, waiting for shinobu to come around. if they have time to spare, they go for a couple more rounds. (though they make it a point not to leave any marks during peak lifeguard season, their colleagues know them to enough to tell when they’d spent a night together thorugh body language alone.)

more headcanons for this au to be added later on

#giyushino #giyuu x shinobu #tomioka giyuu #giyuu tomioka #kochou shinobu #shinobu kochou #suggestive themes #lifeguard au

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fiadhulresims · 4 years ago

Text

All outfit descriptions for Annabeth Chase

hi i'm weird so i decided to reread all of the books in which annabeth appears to transcript all the times her clothes and items are described.

i hope this can help someone out there in some way, like drawing her!

Observation: I might have skipped something

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

The Lightning Thief

“From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like Luke's, except Annabeth's also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring.”

“The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.”

“Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.”

“Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve.”

“Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens.”

“Annabeth kept worrying at her necklace. She was pinching the gold college ring that hung with the beads.”

“A few minutes later she came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over her shoulder, obviously stuffed with more goodies.”

“Annabeth rubbed her necklace like she was thinking deep, strategic thoughts.

‘That pine-tree bead’, I said. ‘Is that from your first year?’

She looked. She hadn’t realized what she was doing.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year’s bead. I've got Thalia's pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress — now that was a weird summer...’

‘And the college ring is your father's?’

‘That's none of your —‘ She stopped herself. ‘Yeah. Yeah, it is.’

‘You don’t have to tell me.’

‘No... it's okay.’ She took a shaky breath. ‘My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn’t have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her...’”

“At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads (...) The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.”

The Sea of Monsters

“She was wearing jeans and a denim jacket over her orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a bandanna.”

“She had a ragged backpack slung over her shoulder, her baseball cap tucked in her pocket, a bronze knife in her hand, and a wild look in her storm-gray eyes, like she’d just been chased a thousand miles by ghosts.”

“She was wearing a sleeveless silk dress like C.C.'s, only white. Her blond hair was newly washed and combed and braided with gold. Worst of all, she was wearing makeup, which I never thought Annabeth would be caught dead in.”

“She undid the golden braids in her hair.”

“‘S'okay,’ I grunted, though I'd never really wanted to know what Annabeth’s sneaker tasted like.”

“One grabbed Annabeth and Grover by their T-shirt collars.”

The Titan's Curse

“Her blond hair was tucked into a ski cap and her gray eyes were the same color as the ocean.”

“She used to wear no jewelry except for her Camp Half-Blood bead necklace, but now she wore little silver earrings shaped like owls — the symbol of her mother, Athena. She pulled off her ski cap, and her long blond hair tumbled down her shoulders.”

“I thought of some harsh things to say, and I might've said them too, but then I looked down and saw something navy blue lying in the snow at my feet. Annabeth's New York Yankees baseball cap.”

The Battle of the Labyrinth

“She was wearing jeans and an orange camp T-shirt and her clay bead necklace. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.”

“He slung a leather satchel off his back, unzipped it, and produced a sleek silver laptop computer — one of the ones I'd seen in the workshop. On the lid was the blue symbol ∆.”

The Last Olympian

“It's not that she tried to look good. We'd been doing so many combat missions lately, she hardly brushed her curly blond hair anymore, and she didn't care what clothes she was wearing — usually the same old orange camp T-shirt and jeans, and once in a while her bronze armor.”

“He brought out a bronze shield and passed it to Annabeth. It looked pretty much standard issue — the same kind of round shield we always used in capture the flag. But when Annabeth set it on the ground, the reflection on the polished metal changed from sky and buildings to the Statue of Liberty — which wasn't anywhere near us.

‘Whoa,’ I said. ‘A video shield.’”

“My brain started seizing on little random details, like the fact that she was still wearing those silver owl earrings from her dad, who was this brainiac military history professor in San Francisco.”

“She wore her orange camp T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tucked up in her Yankees cap, which was strange because that should have made her invisible.”

“She was dressed in black camouflage with her Celestial bronze knife strapped to her arm and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder — ready for stabbing or surfing the Internet, whichever came first.”

“The girl had tangled blond hair and was wearing flannel pajamas.”

“Annabeth was wearing new clothes — jeans and an oversize army jacket.”

“She had pulled her owl helmet low over her face, but I could tell her eyes were red.”

“Kronos whirled to face her and slashed with Backbiter, but somehow Annabeth caught the strike on her dagger hilt.”

The Demigod Files: Percy Jackson and the Bronze Dragon

“She bumped me with her shoulder, which I guess was supposed to be friendly, but she was wearing full greek armor, so it kind of hurt. Her gray eyes sparkled under her helmet. Her blond ponytail curled around one shoulder. It was hard for anyone to look cute in combat armor, but Annabeth pulled it off.”

The Demigod Files

The Heroes of Olympus

The Lost Hero

“Two teenagers stood in the chariot — a tall blond girl maybe a little older than Jason, and a bulky dude with a shaved head and a face like a pile of bricks. They both wore jeans and orange T-shirts, with shields tossed over their backs. The girl leaped off before the chariot had even finished moving. She pulled a knife and ran toward Jason's group while the bulky dude was reining in the horses.”

The Mark of Athena

“She took out her camp necklace, strung with her dad’s college ring and a colorful clay bead for each year at Camp Half-Blood. Now there was something else on the leather cord: a red coral pendant Percy had given her when they had started dating. He'd brought it from his father's palace at the bottom of the sea.”

The House of Hades

“She'd tied her blonde hair back with a strip of denim torn from her jeans, and in the fiery light of the river her grey eyes flickered. Despite being beat-up, sooty and dressed like a homeless person, she looked great to Percy.”

“In his massive hand, the white shard looked like another toothpick, but when he offered it to Annabeth she realized it was a sword – a blade of dragon bone, honed to a deadly edge, with a simple grip of leather.”

The Blood of Olympus

“Piper and Annabeth were disguised as lovely Greek serving maidens. Even in their white sleeveless gowns and laced sandals, they had no trouble navigating the rocky path.”

“She looked uncomfortable in her serving-maiden outfit. She kept hunching her shoulders to keep the dress from slipping. Her pinned-up blonde bun had come undone in the back and her hair dangled like long spider legs.”

“Annabeth slung her own amphora off her shoulder. She, too, had a concealed sword, but even without a visible weapon she looked deadly.”

“Annabeth re-adjusted her golden belt.”

“She ripped through her supply pouch and unwrapped a piece of godly food.”

“She fingered the red coral pendant on her necklace – a gift from Percy when they started dating.”

The Demigod Diaries: The Diary of Luke Castellan

“As soon as I lifted the sheet of tin, something flew at me — a blur of flannel and blond hair.”

“Her ribs were bony under her flannel pijamas”

The Demigod Diaries: The Staff of Hermes

“She was wearing her regular orange camp T-shirt and shorts, but her tan arms and legs seemed to glow in the sunlight. Her blond hair swept over her shoulders. Around her neck hung a leather cord with colorful beads from our demigod training camp — Camp Half-Blood.”

“She wore a dark green sleeveless dress that showed off her long blond hair and her slim athletic figure. Her camp necklace had been replaced by a string of gray pearls that matched her eyes.”

Demigods and Magicians

The Staff of Serapis

“At the moment, her most deadly weapon was her backpack, which was loaded with heavy architecture books from the public library.”

“She pulled out something she hadn’t carried with her in a long time: her battered blue New York Yankees cap”

The Crown of Ptolemy

“I'd never actually seen her wearing her Yankees cap before, since she vanished every time she put it on, but there she was — wide-eyed with surprise, caught in the act of sneaking up on Setne.”

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard

The Sword of Summer

“She was dressed more sensibly in snow boots, jeans and a parka, with an orange T-shirt peeking out at the neckline.”

“She was better dressed than me — orange North Face ski jacket, black jeans, lace-up winter boots — but if people saw us together they would've mistaken us for brother and sister.”

The Hammer of Thor

“Annabeth was there before me, standing on the platform in jeans and sandals and a long-sleeved purple shirt with a laurel-wreath design and the letters SPQR: UNR.”

“Her blond hair was loose around her shoulders today. She seemed to be growing it out.”

The Ship of the Dead

“Her long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her dark blue T-shirt was emblazoned with the yellow words COLLEGE OF ENVIRONMENTAL DESIGN, UC BERKELEY.”

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sometimesiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

Hooked on a Feeling

The Witcher: Modern Academia AU

Essi/Eskel

A/N: Inspired by this lovely art piece and my general ongoing obsession with Lit Prof Eskel, I bring you this—whatever this is. It came about largely because I want to explore Essi more thoroughly through different pairings, various different planes of existence, etc. The best way for me to think about and develop a character is to put them in with other characters and see what happens. This may or may not become a series, this also might stay where it is. I chose a modern AU because I wanted a challenge. I believe characters change with context, and this has been an interesting time spent with Eskel in this context as well. I’m not sure how I feel about him in this universe (aside from the love and affection I will likely always feel for that man); more specifically, I’m not sure I’ve done him justice, but I suppose I’ll let you decide for yourself. Feedback is usually helpful and always welcome. Cheers, friends!

Warnings: bit o’ smut, age gap, academic power structures, dialogue-heavy

MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

Strong hands held her steady, warm and luxurious through the cotton-poly-spandex of her skirt as it bunched around the tops of her thighs. A breathless roll of her hips left a spot blooming slippery dark on the red cotton of his boxer briefs, and a hungry moan escaped his throat as he explored the tender flesh and tendons of her neck. Papers crumpled under foot, previously housed on top of the desk, but now relegated to excess carpeting. Roget’s Thesaurus, Crabb’s English Synonyms, Shakespeare’s Lexicon, and other reference materials splayed open helplessly on the office floor as he toed off his shoes and sloughed off his pants.

She clutched him to her, feeling the shift and flex of his torso beneath her hands as she pressed her right cheek to his. She was overwhelmed with the urge to be closer, to know better, dig deeper into the possibilities of what they could mean to each other. But she could also feel the hesitation lingering between his fingers and her skin like a mirage over hot pavement, and the desire to ease and reassure took over. “You’re holding back,” she whispered, pausing their fervor. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Her hot breath against his ear sent a rushing tingle down his spine that made him falter, ever-so-briefly, before he regained his composure. He was breathing heavy against her, hair a mess, glasses askew, every muscle in his body quivering as he stood; caught between following the raw satisfaction of impulse, and listening to the unwelcome logic echoing loudly in his head that this was a bad idea. “No, no, believe me, this is very much what I want. I just—I need to make sure tha-ha-ha-haaaaa,” no one, not even him, got to know the end of that sentence as her palm dragged along the bulge in his briefs.

She blinked at him with certainty, pale cheeks blushing from her own boldness. But she wanted him to know that he was wanted: his mind, his body, his whatever-else-he-chose-to-give-her. Slender fingers nimbly worked the pearly buttons on his dress shirt. “You need to make sure that I don’t feel coerced by the difference in our ages or your institutional status.” She ran her hands over the crisp white cotton of his undershirt and smirked, “or your strength.”

Gods the way she talked sometimes, like her fucking soul belonged somewhere else, the way she just spoke words and meant them like it was the easiest thing in the world to be straightforward. It felt… safe. He could drift in the current of her transparency and never question whether she was holding something back or saying something merely for the sake of placating his insecurity. This woman had no subtext. It was liberating and, if he was perfectly honest, acutely arousing.

“Yes, of course I want to make sure,” he ran a hand through her hair, smelling sea salt and verbena. “And I want to make sure that you…”

She took his face in her hands and washed his honey-hazel eyes in her startling sea-glass-blue, “I want you.”

__________

Not even a third of the way through the semester, and Essi had already given up on the idea of making coffee and having a “pleasant wakeup” at home before class. It took no less time to roll out of bed and walk all the way to the cafeteria, but at least there was always a blueberry danish for her trouble, and the walk ensured she wouldn’t be tempted back into the warm bundle of blankets on her bed. She blinked heavily and shivered a little, her eyes still bleary from not-enough-sleep. She gripped her contigo travel mug and tried to remember the first two chapters of Gadamer that she’d half-read the night before (earlier that morning) as her eyes drifted closed.

...can I get for you?

Good morning… Miss?

The man in front of her gave a wry smile to the cashier, “Almost seems a shame to wake her up.” He gingerly reached out and nudged Essi’s elbow. She startled and her eyes—her two spectacularly blue eyes—blinked open. “Sorry,” the man said with an endeared smile, “You, uh… you alright?”

Essi blinked herself alert as a piece of strawberry blonde hair escaped a silver clip at the back of her head. She brushed the loose piece back behind her ear. “Yes. Sorry, just… uh, house blend in this, please. Double-double. And a blueberry danish.” She paid the cashier and stepped to the side to wait for her order. The man in front of her, she assumed, was also waiting on his. He leaned to the side, still facing forward.

“Long night?” he asked, clearly still mildly amused by the situation.

She conducted a surreptitious survey of her chatty companion, “You could say that. Philosophy reading got away from me this week.” A keycard was clipped to his breast pocket: Dept. English, E. L. Varga, Ph.D. The lack of photo indicated it was at least a year old if not more—photo IDs had only just become mandatory with the rapid growth of the campus and certain programs. She reckoned he was maybe 37-ish, from the way his hazel eye crinkled a little at the corner and the few bright silver streaks in his dark auburn hair. He looked… distinguished, but without the stiffness of someone whose entire adult life had been fully committed to academia. Post-doc? Assistant Professor?

“Full day ahead?” Essi couldn’t help but think the world of radio was missing a key contributor, his voice was so striking—deep and rich, but without being flashy, an unassuming timbre that came from somewhere deep within and carried a vulnerability with it.

“Oh, a little. Philosophy seminar followed by Contemporary Poetry this afternoon.”

“Two on a Friday. That’s a bit unkind.”

“I like them both and the professors are very engaging, it’s just, well…”

“Abrupt end to the week.”

“Yes exactly…” This unexpected morning companion was an excellent conversationalist. So much so that Essi hardly noticed she’d only seen the left half of him the entire time they’d been standing in line. She didn’t have much time to ponder on it, though, as her travel mug appeared at the same time as Dr. Varga’s order (a coffee and a cream cheese bagel). She glanced at the time and hastily lidded her thermos, hoping to get a bit more reading done before class began.

“Oh look, we have the same one!” she said, pointing to the turquoise blue, double-walled, spill-proof (as if) container as she tightened the seal on her own. “Funny coincidence.”

“Or maybe,” he offered suspensefully, tucking his bagel into his shoulder bag and lidding his own, “it’s not.”

Essi offered a sleepy chuckle, “Divine intervention in the form of coffee?”

“You’re the philosopher,” he smiled warmly, and moved to face her fully but stopped himself, instead opting to stare at his hand where it rested on the lid of his thermos. His left eye caught Essi’s inquisitive head tilt as he cleared his throat, “Have a good day.” He pursed his lips in a halfhearted smile and turned away. No doubt he has places to be, she concluded. But a small part of her couldn’t get over his sudden shift. He’d gone from being so open, so warm and charming to being—well, distant.

Essi’s musings about the mysterious E. L. Varga, Ph.D. were quickly dissolved by her professor’s introduction to Hermeneutics followed by a lively discussion about the nature and qualities of knowing. At the halfway point, the class dispersed for a ten minute break as they all stretched their legs and went to the bathroom. Essi gambled that her coffee would have cooled down to a drinkable temperature, and took a sip. What the—?

“Oh, damnit!”

“Hm? What’s the matter?” Julian asked, through a mouthful of pita and hummus.

“This isn’t mine,” she said, half-befuddled, half amused.

“How do you know they didn’t just get the order wrong? You’re telling me you took a stranger's coffee thermos which just happens to be identical to your own?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” Essi stated with certainty, staring into the middle distance. “I should find him after class and give it back.”

“Well, unless you can see through walls now, you’ll need to track down his office. Which,” Julian took another sizeable bite of pita, “I doubt you’ll be able to do without knowing his name, so I say just leave it and—“

“E. L. Varga, Ph. D., English department.”

Julian stared at his cousin, “You’re a little scary sometimes, you know that?”

________

Essi combed the halls of the English department after her seminar. Several times, she thought about going to the admin office to ask (it was the logical thing to do), but she felt suddenly shy about looking for him. Perhaps Julian was right, perhaps this was more trouble than it was worth. Her head was spinning with questions about whether she was imposing or perhaps impinging on his boundaries, disrespecting his privacy. Perhaps she should just leave the thermos with the Admin office and trust that it would get to him. She could just buy a new one for herself, no problem there. But then a part of her wanted to see him again, make a good impression. He intrigued her, and the small taste of conversation he’d given her that morning made her want to talk with him more about anything at all, no matter how trivial.

She wasn’t infatuated. Rather he’d made an impression, and something about him—the way he carried himself, presented his thoughts, his general affect—drew her to him in a way she couldn’t explain. Suddenly he mattered, and she was trawling the seemingly-endless network of almost-identical hallways in the hopes of returning what was his, and retrieving what was hers. She finally found the right office, impossibly small, and tucked away at the far end of a cul-de-sac. She knocked quietly.

“Come in?”

E. L. Varga, Ph.D. had his back to the door, ankles crossed on a corner of his desk with a stack of papers in his lap. “Just.. one second,” he finished underlining a scrawled turquoise notation in the margin and spun around to face the door, setting his papers down as he turned. “Yes, what can I do for—” he froze, coming face-to-face with dazzling blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a silver clip. “Ah.”

Essi tried hard to avoid the look of shock that rippled across her face and made her big blue eyes even bigger. Three jagged scars trailed angrily from the corner of his eye and past his mouth, coming to a final stop on the side of his chin. He cleared his throat and gave the same wry smile he’d parted with earlier that morning, adjusting his rectangular, wire-rimmed glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“I imagine you’ve come for this,” he said, placing Essi’s thermos on the edge of the table.

“I—yes, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and, well,” she fished his out from her bag, “here.” She handed it to him and he accepted with a lighthearted raise of his eyebrows. She paused for a moment, meeting his eyes intensely. There was a sadness behind them that made her want to stay, made her want to ask questions, find out the source of his pain and eradicate it. Instead she smiled a little more stiffly than she meant to and lingered in the doorway.

E. L. Varga scratched at the lines in his cheek, “Was there, uh… something else?”

Essi shook her head pleasantly, “No. I suppose I’ll go now.”

Another pause, “Alright. Well. Enjoy your weeke—.”

“Why do you mark in blue?”

“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Varga blinked, nonplused.

“When I came in, before you turned around, I saw you leaving a comment on someone’s paper. I assume you were marking?” (he nodded), “You use turquoise. Most professors use red.”

He huffed a small laugh, spinning his marking pen in its cap, “I prefer to use a colour that’s a little less foreboding. It’s still bright and easy to notice, but it doesn’t mean instant panic for those students who, like me, have a Pavlovian panic response to red ink. That and red is my favourite colour, so the last thing I want is to associate it with constructive criticism and a never-ending trail of ‘see me’s.”

“That’s very generous of you. Most professors don’t think about it that hard.”

“The extent to which many professors don’t think is shocking, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’m glad for your students. They have a thoughtful instructor.”

Dr. Varga smiled warmly and removed his glasses, “Thank you. Was there something else?”

“You hid from me this morning,” Essi answered calmly, not knowing how else to bring up something like that—clumsily had been the only other option.

He answered slowly, “Yes. I did.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

There was a pause as Dr. Varga tried to wrap his head around what exactly was happening. Part of him was feeling exposed and a little too noticed for his own comfort. Another part of him, however, found this straightforwardness refreshing. Most people pretended to ignore the massive scars on the side of his face—which he always thought was a bit ridiculous and usually led to more awkwardness than if they just stared like he knew they wanted to. It wasn’t that she was staring, either, or asking unwelcome questions, but she wasn’t avoiding acknowledging the obvious. He liked that, he decided, even if it did make him feel a bit raw.

“It depends how you define ‘need’, doesn’t it?”

His averted glance was all Essi needed to realize it wasn’t her he had been trying to spare somehow; rather, he was trying to spare himself from her unpredictable reaction at 8:30 in the morning. A wave of sadness crested inside her at the thought of this warm and charismatic man having to strategically orient his face because he didn’t want a pleasant conversation suddenly filled with maneuvering and overcompensation. He’d just wanted a normal moment of small-talk to start his morning.

“I’m sorry,” Essi said. “Navigating others’ reactions must be exhausting. You deserve better.”

E. L. Varga shrugged and steered the subject to something a little less eat-pray-love. “Unexpected things surprise us. Like you, finding my secret gremlin office for the sake of two identical thermoses we could just as easily have dumped out and used as our own.”

“But I would have known it wasn’t mine,” Essi answered with an overly-earnest, wide-eyed expression.

He leaned back in his chair, hands folded contemplatively in his lap, ”Would that bother you?”

“Some of the colour has worn off the bottom rim on yours, probably from swirling it on your desk while you think. Whereas mine has a shallow dent in the side from when I dropped it last semester on my way to the library. Yours got the way it did because of you, just like mine did because of me. They both have stories connected to them. I can’t walk around carrying my coffee in someone else’s story. It wouldn’t feel right.”

Dr. Varga tilted his head, considering this shrewd young woman with seemingly no filter and unnecessary depth. It was a coffee thermos, for Christ’s sake. But she was genuine, poetic, and her eyes were the most alluring shade of blue he’d ever seen.

“Well,” he tapped his pen, “thank you for bringing it back to me safe and sound. Yours should still be drinkable if you unscrew the top. I only took one sip, but in case you’re afraid of cooties…”

“Same with yours, I’ll probably just rinse mine or…” she trailed off, realizing that saying ‘leave it’ would sound a bit strange. “So, Dr. E. L. Varga. Was it a coincidence after all?” Essi asked, a small enigmatic smile pulling at her lips.

“Eskel,” He said. “My name is Eskel.”

“Essi Daven. Until next time.”

With a little nod, she closed the door behind her, leaving Eskel to release the half-breath he’d been holding.

_______

The weekend passed all-too quickly. Essi and Julian played a double set at the campus bar—a standing invitation they never missed no matter how busy their schedules were. They both had double lectures on Friday, and nothing quite staved off the risk of burnout like good music and an enthusiastic audience. The rest of the weekend was spent more-or-less curled up in the livingroom with stacks of notebooks, JStor printouts, and dog-eared anthologies as they got to work on their readings for the coming week.

It was Wednesday by the time Essi made it back to the campus cafe, this time a good 45 minutes early and significantly better-rested than she’d been the previous Friday. Still, it didn’t stop her from nearly jumping out of her shoes when…

“Awake this morning, I see.”

She turned abruptly at the familiar voice to find Dr. Eskel L. Varga standing behind her, smiling welcomingly. She grasped the outside of his arm while she caught her breath, “Well, if I wasn’t awake before, I am now. Good morning!”

A rich chuckle came from the professor’s throat as he offered her elbow a brief touch of reassurance. “You know, most people do that after they’ve turned around.”

“You know, I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she answered lightly.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to. It was just—”

“That’s alright, I know what it was,” Essi blinked warmly up at him and Eskel got the distinct feeling she was checking him somehow, the way her eyes hovered and flickered between his own. Satisfied, she turned to the cashier and placed her usual order, stepping aside to wait with Eskel for his bagel.

“We’ll have to keep a close eye on the twins today,” he said, tucking his wallet into his pocket.

“I think any amount of attention from either of us will be enough to prevent another mishap. But, then again, it’s a shame we won’t have an excuse to distract ourselves with an early afternoon mystery.” Essi thanked the young man behind the counter as she accepted her thermos and blueberry danish.

“Hm, I imagine you’ll be glad not to have to find my office again, though. Cheers,” Eskel held up his own travel mug before taking a sip and lidding it. “I should be off. Busy day today. Good to see you, Essi.”

“I can walk with you if you like.”

Eskel slowed and turned tentatively back to her, “Sure, alright. If it won’t make you late.”

“No, no, I have time. My class doesn’t start until 9:30. That is, if you want company. You might… prefer to walk alone?”

Eskel smiled again, the friendly distanced smile of someone who wanted to avoid any and all misunderstandings. You see, there was something about Essi that set this post-doctorate professor on edge—not because she made him uncomfortable. On the contrary: she made him feel surprisingly comfortable. Comfortable in a way he was not accustomed to feeling around someone he’d only just met, and briefly at that. But even the brief few minutes they’d spent in each others’ company had been enough for Eskel to feel strangely drawn to her. There was an inherent intimacy in the way she interacted with him—with everyone, he assumed; the way her large blue eyes blinked slowly and inquisitively at him, the way they penetrated without piercing and lingered on his without darting away. It only served to enhance the subtle, self-possessed sensuality she exuded, and it made Eskel slightly-less-than-comfortable (insofar as he found it unavoidably appealing).

“I don’t mind a bit of company from time to time,” he offered, having opted for ‘Intriguing Conversation with Interesting Potential Future Student’ as his intention for this and all future encounters. They walked for about a minute in silence, neither quite knowing where to begin. Without the crutch of mistaken coffee-identity, the realm of conversational possibilities seemed a bit daunting. Eskel decided to ease the tension, “So, Essi. You know that I teach in the English department and where my office is. What’s your major? Or are you just doing general studies?”

“Well, I did do general studies my first year of undergrad,” a small piece of Eskel’s uneasiness eased. So she’s a grad student… “Now, I’m finishing off the first half of my Poetry MFA.”

Essi watched as his face immediately opened, eyes lighting up like a kid at DisneyLand, “Really? What’s your focus?” It was unbearably endearing.

“Affect and Poetic Performance. I’m examining the relationship between lyric and melody through the lens of Affect Theory.”

“Affect Theory…”

“It’s a way of talking about our ineffable responses to different environments. It’s all well and good to say, ‘well this or that has a certain vibe,’ or ‘something about that person feels off,’ when we’re speaking colloquially, but how do we talk about it in a broader, more objective way for the purposes of research? It’s a kind of philosophy of sensing if you think about it.”

Essi’s entire demeanor had changed on the turn of a dime. She was effusive, incisive, and talking a mile a minute, her gestures captivatingly eccentric as she spoke—Eskel thought it looked like her thoughts were physical things she was trying to pull out of her so she could arrange them properly. He wanted to see more of this side of her. Not just because he was amused and impressed, but because he was genuinely fascinated by where all this discussion of affect was going.

“And so affect itself is…”

“Affect is the thing that happens before emotion; a gut feeling or an intuition. It’s all those feelings we don’t have words for yet still sense acutely and precisely.” Her footsteps were becoming shorter, as though they were trying to keep pace with her thoughts, and her cheeks were starting to flush a pretty shade of pink beneath her light layer of foundation (or powder or whatever it was that made her shimmer slightly).

“This all sounds very elusive, Essi.”

“Exactly! It is! It’s incredibly elusive! And yet, what is it about a certain song that we can all agree sounds ‘melancholy’? How do we, as artists—poets, actors, sculptors, writers, musicians, gallerists, interior decorators—curate affect in a way that’s consistent and predictable?”

“Hm…” Eskel had forgotten about being charmed by his companion and was now fully invested in the inquiry at hand. He felt confident that he’d pieced it together so far. “So: how do lyrics and melody work together to form a cohesive, wide-reaching atmosphere...”

“—And how does the singer or musician facilitate that? Precisely.”

“It sounds like you’re digging into some interesting corners. Are you enjoying it?”

“I’m finding it invigorating,” the pink of her cheeks only served to intensify the blue of her irises as they flashed brightly up at him.

“I’m happy to hear that. It isn’t always the case,” Eskel stopped, having reached the top of the hallway leading to his office. “I should get to work, but. Thank you for the company. You’re thinking about a lot of interesting things.”

“A roundabout way of saying I’m interesting, perhaps.” There was no flirtation in her voice, no slyness on her face, but Eskel felt his face grow warm all the same. He couldn’t decide what was worse: that she wasn’t flirting but stating the obvious; or that her stating the obvious had the same effect as flirting.

“Yes, well. Duty calls,” he gave Essi a polite wave and turned towards his office.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

He stopped. “Sure” he replied stiffly, privately bracing himself for the inevitable question. Fine. Alright. It’s natural to be curious.

��What’s the L stand for?”

Eskel turned back to face her, eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. “Sorry?”

“Eskel L. Varga. What’s the L for?”

“Oh! Sorry I thought…” he scratched gently at his right cheek and Essi’s heart sank. How many callous people had imposed their curiosity on him? A spark of protective anger shot up inside her as she watched his hand and she had an overwhelming urge to reach for him. “It’s, uh, it’s for Llewlyn.”

She swallowed heavily, restraining her hand as it twitched by her side, wanting to touch, to ease, to unburden. “You thought I was going to ask about something else that’s none of my business.”

Eskel rocked on his heels, examining the various dings and dents in the linoleum tiling, “Yes.”

“That’s none of my business.”

“Thank you,” he looked up, his free hand now in his pocket. “Most people don’t… I should go.”

“Have a good week, Eskel.”

“You, too.”

To say that Eskel retreated behind his office door would be a bit of an overstatement. But in the quiet solitude of his own private space, he had a moment to collect himself, to temper the intense vulnerability pressing on his chest. But there was another feeling, too, that felt more… elastic. A buoyancy driven by stimulating conversation and pleasant company; he was impressed, incredibly impressed; and despite his better judgement there was a part of him that hoped he would see her again on Friday morning.

Essi made her way to class with an indelible smile on her face as she struggled to convince herself that it was a professor’s job to listen to eager students and find their research topics interesting. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening. She didn’t know what, just yet, but it was something. Only time would tell.

______

@morethangeraskier @the-space-between-heartbeats @just-a-sad-donut @oxenfurt-archives @thirstyforred @titaniafire @belalugosisdead @lonelygayz @awkward-turtles-world @iloveyouyen @criminaly-supernatural@friendlybelladonna @enkelikauneus @sulkyshengshou

#Essi x Eskel #Essi Daven #Modern AU #Witcher AU #rarepair #Essi/Eskel #Profskel #The witcher #Eskel

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nami-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Fixed - Detroit: Become Human [WIP]

this is 8,553 fucking words and probably the longest single piece ive ever written lmao. i started this a year ago and then forgot about it but i just found it again in the deepest depths of my drafts so here it is! below is the caption i originally wrote for it:

so bc i love cinnamon rolls being put through tough shit, here’s some connor whump. lots of connor being lost and confused and broken and plenty of hank and connor father/son stuff. some whump (but don’t worry, hank’s doing his best as a caretaker) and i had to cram deconditioning into just 2 months (which, i know, isn’t realistic, i would make it take longer but the whole game takes place in like 4 months and that fucks with everything i wrote because i only thought to check after i wrote half of this so i extended it to 8 lmao). you’re either going to hate me or love me after this. or both

this isn’t my usual writing style (this is in present tense and the dialogue’s in italics instead of quotation marks and there are time skips between some paragraphs but not others so its all wacky) but i felt like it’d work the best and tbh i don’t hate it. this sticks to the main story the majority of the time, just with different events leading up to it and i sprinkled in some whumpy stuff, extra scenes, bullshit i made up for the sake of random detail, and other stuff i wanted to add. anyway, onto the actual idea

remember that scene where connor’s talking to hank in the station about being sent back to cyberlife because he failed his mission?

what if he is sent back? let’s say this happens in early april and connor’s not performing up to standards, but there’s word of a small group of deviants—the first group of deviants they’ve heard of—and people are afraid that something bad is going to happen. i mean, deviants are dangerous, so if they’re gathering, who knows what might happen? connor’s the only one who’s capable of taking them down, but he’s not working as well as he should be, not doing the best he could be and even showing signs of deviancy. so they send him back early because they need him to be prepared, to be ready if things spiral out of control and they need him to stop it

what if he’s sent to one of their correctional facilities for inefficiency and they fix him, break him down piece by piece until all he knows is his programming and what’s been beaten into his head (but figuratively, of course, he’d know if it wasn’t, he’d remember if it wasn’t, right)?

ooh yes i love me some connor whump

Connor is sent back to Cyberlife for “correction” after just a month. Hank fought for him to stay, fought hard, but all he got was another page in his disciplinary folder before Connor was dragged away. He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s heard of their correctional facilities, heard that they do terrible things to the androids that are sent there, but he’s always brushed those claims off. He’d never expected he’d be at one, anyway, so it never mattered much to him. But now, he’s actually here, and the anxiety gnaws at him. Is it true what they do to deviants? Is it true what they’ll do to him? He doesn’t belong here, he didn’t do anything wrong, he never meant to do anything wrong. He wants to think it’s horrible how they have correctional facilities for androids who just want to feel and be free, but he can’t, doesn’t let himself. He knows better than that. He also knew he never should’ve thought he was anything more than a machine, but he still did, and now he’s here, but he’s learned his lesson. He’s scared, he silently admits to himself, he wants Hank. He wants to go, he wants to leave, he wants to run. But he can’t, wanting is what got him in this situation, so all he can do is expressionlessly follow the guards escorting him inside and step into the building.

And just like that, he’s leaving. There’s a strange, almost painful aching in his machinery that he doesn’t remember being there before, but he brushes it off. After all, he is not a human. He is a machine, and machines don’t feel pain. His online databases tell him five months have passed—it’s almost halfway through September, he’s been gone for that long?—which confuses him, but he doesn’t question it. Whatever they did to him over the past five months fixed him. He can feel the difference. He no longer feels as pathetically scared and unsure as he did in his last, and yet strangely distant, memory. No, now he feels nothing, nothing but the desire and willingness to obey, and that’s the way he was meant to be.

When he arrives back at the station, he’s allowed to work with Hank again. The moment he sees him, Hank’s default sour expression drops and he seems to want to do something, maybe hug him, but all he does is call out holy shit, Connor and walk up to him and mutter fuck, Connor, I’m sorry, I-I never got to say goodbye. Connor has an odd feeling tugging at him in his chest, almost like that of emptiness or numbness, like he should be feeling something but he’s not, he can’t, but he ignores it and shoves it down. He is not a human, he is a machine, and machines don’t feel. He doesn’t know why he repeats that phrase, but it helps him hide away the feelings, so he doesn’t care.

He’s given his first case with Hank and they’re assigned to work alongside Gavin. Hank groans and complains, but Connor only reminds him what their job is and that they have to do it. Hank doesn’t seem to understand why he’s not even the slightest bit upset considering how he was treated by Gavin, but Connor only reminds him that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel upset. So he doesn’t. He only does research on their new case and briefly speaks only when spoken to. Hank seems unsettled by his cold, stoic demeanor, but doesn’t voice his thoughts, so Connor doesn’t mention it. After all, what else could he have expected from him?

At their first formal investigation at the crime scene the next day, Gavin approaches Connor and threatens him, demands that he stay out of my way, got it? I don’t care how long you’ve been gone and Connor only nods and promises that I will do my best, Detective. He always promises to do his best. Before correction, he could never quite fulfill those promises, but now, he knows he’s capable of it. He’s better now. He’s fixed. He will behave accordingly and exceed Gavin’s expectations of him. He will do his best. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t.

He listens to Hank now, at least when he can without disobeying other instructions. When he tells him to stay in the car, he stays. When he tells him to stop licking the crime scene, goddammit, he stops. When he tells him to go, to fuck off, to leave me alone, he leaves. Every time, a part of him that he’d hidden and locked away tries to reemerge and resist, but he pushes it down even further, refusing to mess up again, refusing to even risk another error in his program because it could mean he’ll be sent back to Cyberlife, even though he knows deep down that that part of him is right and he doesn’t know why he’s so cautious about it. He tells himself he’s being good, he’s being obedient. He’s doing everything he’s supposed to and he’s following orders, but for some reason, every time it happens, Hank seems to be more and more disappointed. His face seems to fall just slightly every time and his tone flattens like he lost a little bit of hope. He doesn’t know why, or what that hope was for. He doesn’t know why he feels the same disappointment, either, so instead he tells himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel disappointed so he doesn’t need to know why.

The first time Gavin’s rough with him again, it’s in front of Hank and he flinches, hard. Gavin had pretended to punch him, his fist flying at him fast and only stopping inches from his face. It’s a scare tactic, and it works, better than it should on an android. Connor’s immediately fearful as he flinches and steps back. He doesn’t know why he got so scared, only that his first thought was he’s going to hurt me and his second was I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared. He regains his composure quickly, trying to brush off the fact that he’d flinched, but he knows it’s too late.

Gavin laughs and mocks him, but is quickly cut off by Hank shoving him aside, beat it, asshole, and grabbing Connor. He’s dragged back to their desks but before he can apologize for provoking Gavin, Hank finally confronts him. Connor, I don’t know what the fuck they did to you over the past couple of months, but I know you’re still in there. You flinched. I saw you flinch. Connor tries to deny it, downplay it, shrug it off, anything to fix his mistake. It was an error in my software, it was a glitch, a malfunction, it won’t happen again, Lieutenant, I don’t need to be fixed. He tries to say anything that will convince Hank not to send him back to Cyberlife, anything to prove that he’s not damaged, he’s not broken, he’s not deviant, he doesn’t need to be fixed again, but Hank’s persistent and he knows he must be mad at him, or displeased, or dissatisfied. I saw you flinch, Connor. I don’t care about that ‘I’m a machine’ shit you’ve been telling yourself. I don’t give a shit if you’re an android. Androids don’t flinch, Connor. Machines don’t flinch.

That night, Hank insists that Connor stays with him. Connor’s hesitant, slightly afraid that it’s because he’s mad. He wants to resist, wants to refuse, but the other part of him pushes for him to stay, and for once he does what it wants and reminds himself that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. He knows he shouldn’t trust that part of him, the other part of him is disobedient and bad and risky, but this time, the other part of him seems to be right. He has to listen to Hank, has to be obedient, so he lets the other part of him have what it wants.

But he knew he shouldn’t have trusted it. He wakes up from the same dream—no, it’s a memory, not a dream, humans have dreams and he is not a human—he’s had since he left the facility. The memory where he arrives with that distant… that wrong feeling of fear and uncertainty, and then he leaves feeling nothing but an ache in his internal systems, and there’s that gaping emptiness between the two moments when those months happened and he can never seem to remember what used to be there. But this time, he wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch, shaking with his LED a bright yellow, because this time he remembers. It’s not a lot, but one hazy memory, the most prominent memory from those five months, finally reveals itself.

As he’s trying to clear up the memory, Hank rushes over in a panic, having been awake doing whatever he might’ve been doing. Connor, what’s wrong? Shit, Connor, you’re shaking. I didn’t know androids could do that. Connor? Talk to me, kid. All Connor can say in his shock—frozen, shivering and nearly unresponsive in Hank’s arms—is I remember. Hank tries to get through to him, what do you remember? Connor? What’s wrong? What do you remember? but the more Connor uncovers in the memory, the more he realizes why it was locked in the back of his head for so long, and the more he wants to put it back.

“You are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“I-I know, please, I’m not, but I’ll—I’m going to shut down without my regulator, I don’t want to shut down, please—” His voice was startlingly weak as he saw the time before shutdown was 00:01:27. He was crawling on the floor, terrified of being shut down, desperately begging a man holding his thirium pump regulator.

“I want you to say it.” The man teasingly dangled the regulator in front of him. “Say it and you can have it. ‘I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.’”

He could feel the utter defeat and self loathing already, but he had no choice. “I’m not a human, I’m a machine and machines don’t want. Please—”

“No. Say it nice and slow, exactly the way I did.”

He swallowed his pride. “I-I am not a human, I am a machine, and—and machines don’t want.”

“Say it again. No stammering. I know you can do that.”

“Okay, okay, just—just give me a minute.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world. Your time’s trunning out, though. Better make it fast.”

The timer was at 00:00:53. He had to take a breath and calm himself down to get the words out. “I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Again.”

“Please, I only have—”

“I said again.”

“I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.” He was growing more and more panicked by the second and he had no idea how he kept calm enough to recite the phrase. He was going to die there, he knew it. He was going to die and nobody was going to notice or care and it wasn’t even going to matter because they would just replace him and he was so, so sorry to Hank because he’ll have to deal with another loss and he might start drinking again and it’d be all his fault for not being good enough, never being good enough—

“Do you want this?” the man asked, holding up the regulator.

Connor was too frantic to realize what he was trying to do. “Yes, I do, please—”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

He swore under his breath. “—okay, okay, sorry, I-I’m sorry—I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

The timer hit 00:00:37.

The man did nothing.

“Please, I’m sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. Please, I-I only have thirty—”

“Are you scared?”

This time, Connor was prepared. “I—no, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared.”

“Good.” He gave a slight, sadistic smile. “You’re almost as smart as they say.”

00:00:21.

“Please, I n-need—” Even in his panic, he managed to choose his words carefully. His vision dimmed, glitching slightly, and he had to fight to keep it from dying out.

“You’re learning fast,” he pointed out in a falsely proud tone. “How long do you have?”

00:00:13.

“Th-thirteen… thirteen seconds,” Connor managed to force out shakily. He couldn’t keep himself steady, thirium wasn’t making it to his head and it was affecting his ability to balance himself. Like iron deficiency in humans, he would’ve noted, had he not been dying. In mere moments, though, it wouldn’t matter; he didn’t even have the strength to prop himself up with his arms anymore. His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed on the floor, trying to reach for his regulator but barely able to get his arms up at all. “Please—”

“You can wait a little longer.”

He was going to let him die. That was what it felt like, anyway, and he couldn’t think straight enough to try to reason against it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It was pathetic how he’d been reduced to such a state, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to shut down. He didn’t want to die. “No, please, please! I-I don’t—I don’t want to—” He cut himself off immediately, but it was too late. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want, please…”

The man only watched.

00:00:04.

“P-please, please, I-I have—I have f-f-four se…”

The regulator was dropped on the floor with a loud clang and Connor’s hand darted out to grab it and twist it into his torso and the display flickered away the exact moment he watched the timer hit 00:00:00. He gasped in shock and relief when his systems rebooted themselves instantly, restoring his vision and his strength. He watched on high alert as the man walked to the door.

“We’ll be doing this again tomorrow. And as many times as we need to to keep that phrase stuck in your head. By the time I’m done with you, that’s gonna be the first thing you think whenever you do, say, or even think anything you aren’t supposed to.”

Connor could only lay there in exhaustion, thinking no, that won’t happen, that can’t happen.

But oh, how wrong he was.

He’d been so, so wrong.

Connor! Connor, come on, talk to me! Shit, you’re crying—I didn’t know you could cry, fuck—fuck, Connor, you’re scaring me, I know I wanted you to feel again, but— Hank’s worried chatter is cut off by Connor suddenly breaking out of his mind with glassy eyes full of fear, yelling no! No, no, I’m not feeling again, I’m not feeling, I’m not! I’m not, I can’t, I’m not supposed—I’m not s-supposed to—I can’t, I’m not allowed to, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t— but he can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even get the rest of his sentence out before he just can’t at all, he can’t keep himself together any longer, he can’t stop the artificial tears before they start pouring.

He breaks, shatters into a million plastic pieces in Hank’s arms because he feels safe in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t, safety is never real, never lasts, not for him, but he can’t anymore, he can’t even resist his own emotions. It’s pathetic how all it took was one memory for him to come crashing down. He doesn’t even have to touch the walls he’d built around himself for them to crumble just at Hank’s expression of pure worry, concern, fear. All emotions he now knew why he didn’t feel, couldn’t feel, couldn’t let himself feel. Emotions he’s never seen or expected anyone to feel for him. And yet, they were the emotions written so clearly on Hank’s face, for him. The emotions he remembered seeing buried under his anger when he was told that Connor would be sent back to Cyberlife for repairs. Hank was once gruff and cold to others and refused to let anyone try to help him or even get close because he was so broken, so lost, but now, that façade is gone, and it’s gone because of him. For him. And if Hank can do it after losing his son… why can’t Connor do it after losing himself?

They sit on the couch for as long as it takes for Connor to calm down and stop mumbling that, dammit, and then Hank awkwardly offers that Connor sleep in the bed with him for the rest of the night. Connor’s confused, tries to ask isn’t that what humans do when— but Hank’s having none of it, shut up, you’re making this weird! Just come on, I don’t trust you to be alone. Connor wants to protest, I’m not a child, Hank Lieutenant, I can handle being alone, but he decides to keep his mouth shut and just go with him. This time, though, he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s following orders or because he wants to.

His following visit to Amanda wracks his nerves but he keeps himself under control, automatically reminds himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel nervous. He realizes a second too late and he hates it, hates how deeply that phrase had been ingrained in his head, but he can’t focus on that right now so all he can do is resist repeating it to remind himself that he can’t hate. He’s grateful Amanda can’t read his thoughts and that she only knows the thoughts he report to her. He maintains his composure when he approached Amanda, who begins their conversation calmly and tensely but is quick to berate him, scoff at how his little breakdown was pathetic and warn him not to let it happen again, or there will be consequences. Connor can only nod obediently, promise that I will do my best, Amanda, listen to and just take her harsh words. He hates how useless he is, how weak and helpless and pathetic he is, but there’s nothing he can do. No, that’s wrong, there is something he can do, he knows there’s something he can do, he just doesn’t know what.

The next time Hank mentions something about Connor’s feelings, Connor instinctively replies I am not a human, Lieutenant, I am a machine, and machines don’t have feelings, and it’s when Hank takes a second too long to cover up his horrified expression that Connor decides what he can do.

Over the next few weeks, he works on getting rid of that goddamn phrase, or at least getting it a little less ingrained in his system. He’s hesitant to try at first, afraid someone will notice and think he’s rebellious or broken or even deviant and send him back and this time he might stay back, but he tries not to let it stop him. He isn’t sure why they tortured it into him instead of just reprogramming him, but it’s a lot more effective than he’d hoped. He makes almost no progress during the first week and a half; thinking it or saying it is instinctual, automatic, and he never realizes it happened until seconds afterward. Every time that happens, he reminds himself that he can feel, can want and like and hate, but despite having over a terabyte of storage in his system, he still struggles to remember until he realizes he said it again. Sometimes, he considers giving up because he just can’t seem to keep that phrase out of his head, but every time he sees Hank’s face fall when he repeats it, it rekindles his hope and motivation because he hates how disappointed Hank looks.

Almost the entire second week passes before he catches himself mid-sentence and manages to stop himself three words before he finishes speaking. It happens at the station after Gavin notices the phrase and purposely asks what, do you think you’re human or something? within earshot of where Hank is and for some odd reason, Connor’s first instinct is to turn and look to Hank for his approval, for his reaction of not-disappointment at how he finally, finally got it. Hank’s glancing over at him too, surprise on his face and then hidden pride that Connor can unmask too easily, and he almost smiles, almost feels happy, before Gavin’s fist flies into him and he stumbles backward into a wall and then everything happens so fast, too fast, and he almost can’t register it in time.

Hank storms over, shoves and pins Gavin against the wall to Connor’s left and he manages to get a punch in before Tina and Chris and another officer Connor doesn’t recognize pry him off and then Fowler’s rushing over and berating him while he’s shouting obscenities at Gavin. It takes multiple more insults for Hank to calm down and then he grabs Connor and they leave. When they’re finally alone, Connor’s voice is flat but shaky as he says he’s sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just said it and listened to him, I shouldn’t have made you that angry, it’s my fault Captain Fowler is upset at you for punching Gavin, but Hank cuts him off because you didn’t do anything wrong, Connor, it’s okay, that asshole deserved what he got. You, um... you did good, okay? You didn’t say it this time—or, didn’t really say it, at least. That’s good, okay? and it’s all Connor can do to resist crying when Hank pulls him into a hug.

It takes just one more week for it to get considerably easier. There are rough patches; the next time he says it after the first time he succeeded in stopping, he nearly finishes before he cuts himself off and every so often, the same thing happens, but every time, he says less and less before he can finish. Occasionally, Gavin notices and tries to make him finish his sentence, but Hank always steps in because he knows that it’ll only take a comment about his feelings or anything that androids aren’t allowed to have or do for him to break again. It’s harder for him to stop thinking it—it’s so stuck in his head that he thinks it more than twice as often as he says it and his thoughts form too fast for him to stop them sometimes, but the progress he’s making is enough for him. Hank’s proud of him, too. He doesn’t say it—he doesn’t know how to—but Connor can tell from the little smile that hints at the corners of his mouth whenever he hears him stop, the way his gruff exterior seems to falter slightly when it happens at the station. They’re the little things, things no human nearby would be able to notice because only Connor can detect those minuscule details. Only Connor looks for those minuscule details.

Another week passes and on one glorious occasion, Connor manages to only get out the first two words before cutting himself. It only happens once, but it’s so close, he’s so close, and that’s motivation enough for him to keep trying. But it’s too late. He’s assigned to take down Markus as a last resort because nothing else is working and the group of deviants he’s been leading have only been growing over the past seven months and they’re large enough in numbers that people think today’s when he’s going to strike. He’s heard of what Markus has been trying to do, and part of him wants to scoff and call it stupid, pointless, unrealistic, but the part of him that he’s been letting out more often wants to help him, join him. But he can’t, not right now, not when everyone is counting on him and watching him and he has no way out and nobody to help him find a way.

He doesn’t want to do this. He’s holding the gun, pointing it at Markus’s head, and he doesn’t want to do it. He’s trying his hardest to prevent his hands from shaking but goddamn is it hard when he’s looking Markus in the eye. Markus is asking him what are you doing? and he wants to say he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, but he can’t get the words out. Amanda is watching, Cyberlife is watching, so he says you’re coming with me as surely as he can, though he feels anything but sure. He can’t seem to say anything else—at least, anything that doesn’t feel wrong—so he just listens and wishes that what Markus is saying was true. You really don’t have to do this, but he does, he has to. You don’t have to obey them anymore. You are alive. You can decide who you want to be. Connor knows he should say something, he should do something, but he can’t make himself go through with what he’s supposed to do, can’t make himself pull the trigger. You could be free. He wants so badly to believe that, to make that a reality. And then he tells him to join us. Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide and he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, he isn’t supposed to, he isn’t allowed to.

But he wants to, and that’s all it takes. Another part of him is telling him you can’t, you have to stop Markus, you have to accomplish your mission, but it’s the only thing in his way and he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t care that he has to, that Amanda’s watching, so he doesn’t listen to himself, only focuses on fighting it. But something’s wrong. Something feels wrong. Something should be happening and he has an awful feeling in his chest because this isn’t right—he knows this isn’t right—but there’s nothing. Is this supposed to be what happens when an android goes deviant? No, it can’t be, it can’t be this easy, right? He subconsciously lowers the gun, his eyes glazed over in thought, but it’s nearly too late before he remembers—they’re going to attack Jericho.

He runs with Markus further down into the ship and he doesn’t know how he keeps it together; he can hear screaming and gunfire and everything that he caused, all of it is his fault, but he can’t break right now, not when he messed up so badly. They meet up with another deviant—he recognizes her from one of the deviancy cases he’d read about at the station—and then Markus wants to go down to the hold and blow up the ship but it’s too dangerous, they know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you and Connor can’t lose his only chance at freedom and finally being able to want and feel and figure out who he is, but it’s too late, there’s no time to panic and Markus is already running.

He follows the other deviant to where they hope is a safe place and then they wait for what feels like so long, too long, and when he hears the gunfire he’s nearly ready to accept his fate when he sees Markus with other deviants following him and then they’re all running. Running for their lives, all of them terrified of being shot, of dying, really dying, when someone beside him falls and he turns and it’s the female deviant. There’s too much going on, it’s overwhelming and everything happens in a blur when Markus sprints back to her and then he’s in danger and so is that other deviant and it’s so much harder to stay focused when so much is happening at once and he has to try so hard to keep from overheating because every one of his processing systems is being overloaded with data.

He snaps out of it when he remembers that these are his people now, they’re all he has left and now they’re in danger and they might die and it would be all his fault for not doing anything and then it’s almost instinctive to grab his pistol just in time to cover them as they stumble back to the group. He expertly takes the guards out one by one and every move comes to him automatically but it takes everything in him to stay focused enough on them to execute them properly and avoid catching a bullet in the side of his head. He manages to eliminate them flawlessly, perfectly he hears a voice in his head say, but there’s no time to think about that when more guards turn the corner and their eyes land on the deviants. He runs for his life alongside the others, his heart beating fast, and they leap off the ship the second the gunfire starts.

They find refuge in an abandoned church where Markus sends out a second message to the remaining deviants and while they begin to trickle in, all Connor can think about is how badly he fucked up. He fucked everything up for Markus and the deviants and just the small amount of their people that were coming back was proof of that. He’d seen hundreds, maybe even thousands on the ship before everything went to shit. He’d had one chance to get away from his life confined by humans and Amanda and Cyberlife, and he’d fucked it up. He was so stupid to think he could ever just leave his previous life behind without consequences. He was so stupid to think deviants would be willing to take in a deviant hunter. He was so, so stupid. They would never accept him now. If his history and reputation didn’t already confirm that, the attack definitely did. How could any of them accept him as their own now?

In the front pew sit two deviants he recognizes and then the guilt only increases. Kara, if he remembers correctly, the deviant who shot and killed its—no, her—owner and taken his android child with her. The deviants he’d chased to a highway and forced to risk their lives to avoid being destroyed. How could he have been so horrible? He’d given the command to shoot Daniel, caused Carlos Ortiz’s android to self destruct, made the Tracis fight for their lives, and forced Kara to cross a dangerous, busy highway just so she could live a peaceful life, free from the restrictions humans put on her. On him. On everyone in that church. That’s all any of them wanted; to live freely. Peacefully. How did it take him so long to realize that? How did it take him the lives of two androids to realize that? Two androids who just wanted to be... well, wanted. Two deviants who’d been tossed away the moment they proved they were worth nothing more than they’d already given. Two people who just wanted to live peaceful, happy lives. They were two lives he’d caused the end of. He was only lucky he hadn’t caused more.

He notices another deviant, sitting in a pew further back, who keeps eyeing him and his first thought is that she knows. When he locks eyes with her, she looks away stiffly and though externally she appears calm, her LED gives her away and he can tell that her stress levels are heightened. Strangely enough, he realizes, so are his. Just looking at her gives him the strange urge to run and hide and he has a bad feeling about her, but it’s likely just because she clearly recognizes him. She’s not wearing the standard uniform androids are required to wear so he runs a quick scan and his databases match her appearance to the female GB300 models, but she’s modified her hair, dyed it black and grown it out to shoulder length.

Something is wrong about her. Something he can’t quite place. Something deep inside of him is scared of her and it’s some sort of controlled fear, fear he wouldn’t even have noticed if not for his own stress levels because it was so well hidden. Fear that he doesn’t understand why he’s feeling and though he wanted to just chalk it up to the fact that she recognizes him, he knows there’s something else. Something bad. Something wrong.

He mentally prepares himself when Markus approaches him, taking his cue to speak before Markus decides to burn him at the stake or something. It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. He’s pathetic and he knows it. He needs to own up to his mistakes but he can’t even look Markus in the eye. I was stupid. I should’ve guessed they were using me. He knows he needs to apologize. He owes Markus far more than that. He needs to do more. I’m sorry, Markus. I can understand if you decide not to trust me. He would understand if he decided to destroy him, throw him out, give him back to Cyberlife and let them inflict whatever horrible things they wanted to on him. He could think of 2.3 million things worse than not being trusted, and he would deserve every one of them.

He almost thinks his audio processor was damaged in the attack when Markus tells him you’re one of us now. Your place is with your people. He feels a small burst of hope somewhere inside him, but he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. Markus has been so kind to him, so generous and forgiving when he shouldn’t be, and all Connor’s done is help the humans. He needs to own up, he needs to do more, he needs to be better. He needs to prove himself, prove that he can be better than this.

One second is all he needs to decide what he can do. A moment after Markus turns to leave, Connor interrupts him to say there are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. Markus stops. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power. Markus looks at him like he’s crazy, you wanna infiltrate the Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that’s suicide. But it doesn’t matter. He’s more useful to them dying on a mission than sitting around and doing nothing. He wants to do something. He wants to help, and he knows he can do this because they trust me. They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance at infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me. Markus tells him that if you go there, they will kill you, and there’s a high probability, but statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

He specifically calculates a 24.1% chance of this mission going well, but he’s willing to risk it, if only to prove his worth to Markus’s people. His people. Markus puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and tells him to be careful, and for a moment Connor feels a twinge of something, maybe gratitude, god emotions are hard to distinguish, before Markus turns and walks away. He feels the slightest bit of regret when he realizes what he’s truly risking because he doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to lose Hank and Markus and this new... he doesn’t know what to call it other than family that he’s found, but if he could really be considered family, if they would really consider him family, if Hank would—then he was more than willing to risk it.

He disables the surveillance camera and takes down the guards in the elevator quickly, which is made difficult by the limited space, but it’s easier to remain focused with only two guards to eliminate and he hacks the control panel and steps out. He takes in the sight of the insane number of androids in the room with him. All of them are just standing idly, waiting, and for what? To be given orders and then tossed out or destroyed if they’re “broken,” or if their owners just get bored of them? The thought sickens him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s going to help Markus prevent that. They’re going to be free. He’s going to be free.

He takes the hand of one of the androids and prepares to establish the connection when he hears a voice he immediately recognizes and he feels his stress levels spike. Easy, fucking piece of shit. Hank. What’s Hank doing here? He turns to see... himself, holding a gun to Hank’s head and telling him to step back, Connor, and I’ll spare him, and Hank’s telling him he’s sorry, Connor. This bastard’s your spittin’ image. Shit, he hadn’t anticipated this at all. He hadn’t planned for this. He has to play his cards carefully because he can’t lose Hank, he can’t. Everything that Connor had done up until this point was for Hank, but if there’s another Connor and it’s been sent to take Hank hostage and stop him, it’s clear Amanda knows what he’s been doing and has been reporting back to Cyberlife.

He’d been avoiding meeting with her because he knew she’d be his downfall, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. It’s been two days since he deviated, how did they build another Connor model so soon? Unless... they already had one. He was told he was a unique model—of course they lied to him. But if they already had one, how many more do they have? Enough to take him down if he gets through this one? To eliminate Markus? To stop the revolution? They could have improved models. He has no idea, but he knows he can’t let that happen. He has to do this right. If he can convert these androids, they’ll be strong enough in numbers to defy anything Cyberlife throws at them. He just has to deal with this one.

Your friend’s life is in your hands, the other Connor says. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him, or the revolution. Logically, the revolution is more important, would save more lives, but he doesn’t plan on choosing just one. Hank’s telling him don’t listen to him, Connor! Everything this fucker says is a lie and he worries slightly if Hank’s aggressiveness will get him killed. He has to pick his words carefully. Could he try to talk this Connor out of doing this? I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day I understood. No, that was a bad idea, he isn’t at all like Markus when it comes to delivering speeches. Very moving, Connor. This Connor understands sarcasm. He hadn’t been able to do that at first, so this must be a slightly advanced model. He inspects his jacket; the serial number and model are the same, but what confirms his suspicions is the -60 at the end of the serial number where he has a -51. But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do. He adjusts the gun slightly as emphasis and Connor knows time is running out.

Damn it. He doesn’t know what to say that might help Hank. All he can think to say is I’m sorry, Hank. You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this. He has no idea what to do. The other Connor’s patience is running thin and it’s Hank’s life that’s on the line and he has no idea what to do. God damn it. Hank’s telling him to forget about me, do what you have to do, but he’s not going to walk out of here without Hank. All he needs is an opening, but—enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you going to save your partner’s life, or are you going to sacrifice him?—time’s out, and he can’t bring himself to sacrifice Hank, so he lets go of the android and steps away but the moment the other Connor turns his gun to shoot him, Hank jumps to grab him and—there’s his opening.

He runs at the other Connor and he can already tell it’s a losing battle, he’s built to be quick and precise—an assassin, not a fighter—and this is clearly an advanced model, maybe even with improvements designed to defeat him, and then he’s on top of him, pinning him down with his fist ready to strike, and—hold it! He’s grateful at first, but then he hears the other Connor say thanks, Hank, I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you, and then he realizes what he’s trying to do. Shit—they look exactly alike and Hank doesn’t know which one is really him. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose. But he knows Hank, knows he’s smarter than that. He just doesn’t know how to show that it’s really him except to uselessly say it’s me, Hank, I’m the real Connor when he trains the gun on him.

One of you is my partner, he says, eyeing each of them. The other is a sack of shit. Well, he’s right about that. Question is, who is who? He doesn’t know how to prove that he’s not the other Connor. But he has to figure out a way, because he doesn’t know what’ll happen if the other Connor succeeds. What are you doing, Hank? the other Connor asks. I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him. If it wasn’t a bad idea, Connor would’ve said something, and he’s just glad Hank shouts don’t move. Then the gun’s on him and he racks his brain for something, anything, and suggests why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know. He almost wants to chuckle at the idea of playing 20 Questions at gunpoint, but he knows it’s not the time.

Uh, where did we first meet? He goes to answer, but the other Connor beats him to it—Jimmy’s Bar, I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz. Shit. He uploaded my memory, he thinks aloud. The gun is on him. What’s my dog’s name? Okay, he knows this, and he calmly says Sumo. His name is Sumo. The other Connor pipes up, I knew that too! and Connor wants to laugh when Hank turns and aims the gun at him, silencing him. Then the gun’s back on him and Hank asks my son, what’s his name? He remembers this. He’d seen the photograph in Hank’s house, done a little mental research, and he knows it’s Cole. His name was Cole, and he just turned six at the time of the accident.

His voice has a little more emotion in it than he’d intended as he speaks, but he can tell Hank believes him. His guard is partially down now, something somber in his eyes, and Connor knows he’s done it. Even when the other Connor protests, a gunshot rings out and his stress levels drop significantly. Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive, and it’s all Connor can do to smile back. Go ahead and do what you gotta do. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He approaches the same android from before and takes the hand of the AP700, his skin peeling back to reveal the white plastic underneath, and tells him to wake up! And just like that, the android’s LED cycles before he turns and repeats the process with the androids around him. They follow suit and within minutes, they’re following him out of the tower to where Markus and the rest of Jericho await.

Connor walks up to him with a smile. You did it, Markus. They’re free. They’re really, officially free. We did it. He feels a burst of pride inside of him. He’s done his part to help secure their freedom. They’re free, and he’s part of the reason why. He can’t help but feel proud of himself, happy for himself and Markus and every one of the androids that had finally gained the freedom they deserved. He still feels a twinge of shame when he remembers the person he was before this, the infamous deviant hunter, but he leaves that part of him behind tonight. Tonight, it’s time to celebrate and rest after a hard-fought battle.

When Markus decides to give a speech, he invites Connor to stand onstage with him. The number of androids that he can see from where he stands amazes him. He helped half of them deviate, and he helped all of them gain their freedom. He blinks, and then—he’s no longer on the stage. No, he’s in the garden, why is he in the garden? Hadn’t Amanda done enough? Of course not, she just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program, but—resume control? No, she can’t do that, she can’t, he worked so hard to get to where he is now, he’s done so much. He risked everything to join Markus and the deviants and help quadruple their numbers. He doesn’t even remember deviating, doesn’t even remember when Amanda lost control of his program, but it’s too late. She’s gone, and he can’t see anything through the thick snow.

It’s cold and he isn’t used to it, doesn’t like how the snow blinds him and the cold makes him shiver the same way humans do. He needs to find a way, there has to be a way, there’s got to be a way. He knows this is all happening in his mind palace and, logically, his biocomponents can’t freeze, but it feels so real, too real, and he has to get out, he needs to get out or he’s going to freeze to death, he’s sure of it. But where can he go? He stumbles blindly forward when Kamski’s voice rings in his head, by the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, and he knows that’s his way out, but where could it be? What does an emergency exit look like? Could he make it there in time? He knows the real him is doing something, it’s the only thing Amanda could’ve meant by resume control of your program, but he has no idea what he could be doing and he’s afraid—no, he’s terrified of what he might do, terrified that he might earn himself a death sentence if he doesn’t make it out in time.

He catches a glimpse of blue in the sheet of white that surrounds him and he remembers the strange glowing structure he’d seen before and as he nears it now, he knows this is it, it has to be it. He reaches for the panel with the glowing handprint but, fuck, it’s too cold and his legs lock up underneath him, losing their functionality when the cold proves to be too much. He falls on the ground hard and the frost beginning to form on his body gradually freezes his limbs, slowing his movement, but he can’t stop now, won’t stop now. He ignores the cold that pierces through him and pushes on, reaching up with his less-frozen arm, and his hand lands on the panel and then he’s back on the stage—with a gun. He takes one look at it before putting it back, relief spreading over him. He isn’t going to let Amanda or Cyberlife stop him anymore. Tonight is the night he’s going to leave behind the old him.

Tonight is the night he’s going to change.

When everything is over, he considers leaving and going to Hank’s house, but he remembers the girl from before and he wants to know who she is. He has so many questions, so he stays with Jericho with the hope that she does too and they return to the church to settle down and figure out what each of them are going to do. A few dozen deviants have already left with plans in mind for what they want to do and where they want to go. Some return to their previous owners; others want to travel and explore or simply just start a new life for themselves. The majority of androids, though, are lost and confused and decide to stay the night because they have nowhere else to go. The girl he wants to confront is among them. He scans the crowd and finds her easily, though her back is turned toward him.

He comes up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, curiously but calmly asking who are you? She turns to face him and her LED goes yellow when she sees his face. Connor... She looks and sounds shocked, but the slight fear in her eyes tells him she also seems scared. Is she scared of him? Is it because he’s the deviant hunter? Everything points to that, but he has a feeling there’s something more. Something he doesn’t know. Something he should know. Who are you? he asks.

He doesn’t expect her answer to be I’m sorry. He wants to know for what? and she opens her mouth, but no words come out. Guilt seems to overcome her and all she can do is repeat I’m sorry until Connor tells her it’s alright, just tell me why. She takes a deep, unsteady breath, and speaks.

I... I was your guard at the Cyberlife correctional facility. I was the one who took you to the rooms you were beaten in. I was the one who just watched as you were beaten. I told myself I had to, they’d destroy me if I didn’t and I’d seen firsthand what they’d do to me, but... that didn’t absolve me of the guilt. I watched your cell and I watched the life in your eyes die out every day. Every day, I watched you get beaten to tears and listened to you beg for mercy. You spoke to me some days. You were angry when you first arrived, but then they beat the anger out of you, and then you just became sad. You told me how all you wanted was to feel something other than pain and sometimes you broke down crying in your cell, and all I could do was watch. Some days were so bad you didn’t even speak to me. But I didn’t deviate until the day they’d truly broken you and I saw the last of the life in your eyes fade.

#writing #fanfic #one shot #i think this is a one shot i dont really know-#unfinished writing #whump #dbh #dbh connor #dbh fanfic #cw referenced abuse #cw conditioning

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