#if that assure me I could take the answer and put it inside my brain

[purplecelestial-buddy]

Going through the inverse of whatever Zeus went through when he had head splitting headaches to the point of actually splitting his head.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

You Have Me » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky sees the marks your boyfriend gave you and assures you that you have him.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, abusive/toxic relationship (not Bucky), brief mention of blood, hair pulling (nonsexual), bruises, crying, best friends to lovers, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You don’t know why you’re staying with a man who beats you. You’re just too scared to do anything about it so you just take it. Now, you can’t. You’ve been thinking of ways of how to leave without your boyfriend noticing or knowing.

“Hey!” Kayden snaps his fingers in your face, making you jump. “I asked you a question, bitch.” He says.

“Wh-What was the question?” You asked with a stutter.

Kayden groans loudly before grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulled you closer to him, his nose touching yours.

“I asked you…” His voice was low. “When are you making dinner?” He asks. “Is your brain too stupid to comprehend that?” He asks.

“I-I’ll do it now.” You say.

“Good.” He lets go of your shirt. “Get me a beer while you’re at it.” He says.

Kayden walked past you, purposely bumping into you and making you stumble a little bit. As you were walking to the kitchen, he grabbed a handful of your hair, causing you to wince in pain and pulled you back towards him.

“Never make me repeat myself again.” Kayden says, his voice sounding threatening.

He let go of your hair and pushed you towards the kitchen. When you got in the kitchen, you leaned against the counter and took a deep breath, tears trying to escape your eyes.

As the night went on, Kayden continued to hurt you in every way he could think of. You had tears streaming down your face at this point.

“You’re such a fucking crybaby.” Kayden insults you. “I barely touched you.” He says.

His hand landed a harsh smack across your face, causing you to yelp in pain. He then grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him. You turned your head to the side to avoid eye contact with him. His free hand grasped your jaw tightly turning your head towards him so you were looking him in the eye.

“Crying won’t get you anywhere in life.” He says.

He let go of you and shoved you to the floor, your body making a thudding noise as you hit the floor. You hit your head when you got pushed down. You didn’t even realize you were still on the floor until hours later when Kayden was sleeping. You carefully and quietly stood up from the floor. You grabbed the bag you had already packed and managed to sneak out of the apartment without him knowing.

You drove across town to Bucky’s house. You repeated knocked on the door till he opened it. Bucky’s eyes went wide when he seen the bruises on you.

“Oh my god, doll.” Bucky stepped aside so you could walk inside of his house. “What happened?” He asks worriedly.

“Can I stay here please?” You asked quietly, bypassing his question.

“Of course you can.” He answers.

Bucky gently ushered you to the living room. You sat down on the couch, fiddling with your fingers. Bucky knows something is wrong when you play with your fingers. He gently grabbed your hands, but you pulled them away out of instinct. He grew more worried.

“May I?” He asks softly.

You nodded your head yes. Bucky put a piece of your hair behind your ear to get a good look at your face. A red hand print was visible on your cheek, finger shaped marks on your jaw, and a bruise on your forehead. His heart broke when he seen them.

“Who did this to you?” He asks.

You looked in his eyes. It didn’t take long for Bucky to realize that Kayden was the one who did this to you.

“Kayden did this to you, didn’t he?” He asks.

Your bottom lip quivered as you nodded your head yes. You leaned forward and laid your head on Bucky’s shoulder, crying your eyes out. Bucky pulled you onto his lap, holding you close to him as you cried. It broke Bucky’s heart to see you like this.

Bucky glanced down at your forearm, seeing a bruise there. That was enough to tell him that Kayden did that to you.

“It’s ok.” Bucky coos softly, rubbing your back. “You’re save with me.” He almost whisper.

“P-Promise?” You asked, sniffling and looking up at him with teary eyes.

“Promise.” He promises.

A smile grew on your face. You felt safe with Bucky. You know he’ll do anything to protect you.

You didn’t realize you fell asleep in Bucky’s arms until you woke up the next morning in his bed. You rubbed your eyes and sat up, looking around for Bucky, but he wasn’t in bed next to you or in his bedroom. It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was in the kitchen when the smell of coffee filled your nose. You got out of bed and went to the kitchen, sitting down on one of the chairs at the kitchen island.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Bucky smiles, handing you a cup of coffee.

“Morning, Bucky.” You smile back, taking a sip of coffee.

“How did you sleep?” He asks.

“Better than I did in a while.” You tell him.

“That’s good.” He smiles.

Bucky walks around the kitchen island to sit down next to you. You had your hands on the coffee cup, enjoying the warmth of the cup against your skin.

“Y/N, I want you to know you have me no matter what.” Bucky says.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, doll. You’re my best friend and I’ll always have your back.” He says softly, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, making you smile.

There was a moment of silence. You and Bucky were gazing in each other’s eyes. You two began to lean in towards each other, but it got cut short when the sound of someone was pounding on the door, making you and Bucky jump. Bucky stood up to open the door. Kayden was on the other side of the door. He pushed past Bucky, looking for you.

“I didn’t say you can come in.” Bucky says to Kayden.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Kayden said. “I know she’s here.” He says.

The first place Kayden looked for you was the kitchen. Your eyes widened. You stood up from the chair to escape him, but you didn’t get far. Kayden grabbed a handful of your hair and slammed you against the wall, causing you to whimper in pain.

“I fucking knew you were here, bitch.” He says.

Bucky grabbed the back of Kayden’s neck with his vibranium hand and slammed his head against the counter. You turned around and stayed against the wall, watching what’s going on in front of you with wide eyes.

“Get off of me, man.” Kayden groans, struggling to get out of Bucky’s tight grip.

“What’re you gonna do? Beat me up next?” Bucky asks.

“So this is what it’s about.” Kayden chuckles. “She came crying to you cause she’s a little crybaby who can’t control her tears.” He says.

Bucky’s vibranium hand tightened its grip on the back of Kayden’s neck.

“Say another god damn word about her. I fucking dare you.” Bucky growls.

Kayden kept his mouth shut. Bucky lifted Kayden up and stood in front of you.

“Say what you need to say, doll.” Bucky says to you.

You stared at Kayden, not sure if you should say anything. That’s how scared you are of him.

“I don’t know why you’re trying. She doesn’t even know how to speak for herself.” Kayden laughed.

Kayden was caught by surprise when you punched him in the face, making his nose bleed.

“You bitch!” Kayden cries out in pain.

You walked closer to him, looking up at him.

“We’re over. I’m sick and tired of the way you treat me. I never want to see you or hear from you ever again.” You finally say.

“You’re bluffing.” Kayden laughs. “You won’t survive without me.” He says.

“I’m not bluffing and I can survive without you in my life.” You say.

“You don’t mean that.” He says.

“Yes I do.” You confirmed. “Bucky, get him out of here.” You say, looking at Bucky.

Bucky walked Kayden to the door and shoved him outside, making him fall to the ground. Bucky kneeled down by Kayden’s head.

“If I ever and I mean ever, see you near Y/N again, I won’t hesitate to snap every bone in your body like a twig.” Bucky tells him in a threatening tone. “Got it?” He asks.

“Y-Yes.” Kayden answers in a stutter.

“Now, get out of here before I change my mind and snap your bones right now.” Bucky says.

Kayden scrambled to stand up and ran to his car, speeding away. Bucky went back inside of his house, closing the door behind him. He immediately walked towards you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him.

“Are you ok, doll?” He asks softly.

“I am now.” You answered.

———

6 months later, you feel better than ever. You’re out of the abusive and toxic relationship you were in. You managed to clear your mind. Also, you’re in a new relationship with a new guy and that guy happens to be your best friend James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky treats you like a woman should be treated. He makes you feel like you and loves you for who you are. He’s everything you want in a man. Funny, tall, handsome, blue eyes, very protective. The vibranium arm is an added bonus.

Bucky walks up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist while you’re cooking. He put his chin on the top of your head, watching you cook.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Bucky asks.

You couldn’t help but giggle when he said that.

“You’re so cheesy.” You say, tilting your head back against his chest to look up at him.

Bucky hums and gently turns your head to the side to kiss your lips sweetly. You pulled away from his lips momentarily to put the stove on low and turned around to kiss Bucky properly. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you two kissed. Bucky’s hands found their place on your waist.

“Thank you, baby.” You almost whispered.

“What’re you thank me for, babydoll?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your sides.

“For loving me.” You answered.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, doll.” He put a piece of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll love you no matter what.” He says softly.

You leaned up, kissing him passionately.

“I love you, babe.” You say softly.

“I love you too, doll.” He says in almost a whisper.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 5

pt 4 here

content: stalking (duhh) Choso goes home for Christmas, calls u nd texts u the whole time, brief mention of his brothers, mentions of readers lipstick n perfume, no use of y/n or pronouns, cursing (a.n) ahhhhh this one is one of my favorites. made me smile a lot. wrote this listening to 'Sextape- Deftones'

Taglist : @brokenscaredakira @adanfore @emojk777 @waytootiredforthisss @denypipa @broccocrab @sunaumei @morinuu @just-pure-trash @iluvreinah @integers @ziklope @killakungfu-wolfbitch @1arminsimp

Obsessive!Choso who actually enjoyed coming to class, now that you sit next to him. Enjoying it so much that he felt like his grades were somewhat getting better. Now that he actually had to show that he was writing down notes. Having to actually follow the presentations from the professor on his computer, knowing that you were sitting inches away from him. When you sat so far away- he didn't have to worry about taking notes, or even bother opening his computer- because you couldn't see him. ‘You are good for me. You make me want to better myself for you.’ he'd think, looking over at you writing on your computer. 

Obsessive!Choso who had anxiety that once this project was over- you'd run back to the same friends that will never make you smile the way he does. The people who peer pressured you into drinking and doing drugs- just because you wanted to fit in. ‘You'd never have to worry about that with me. I will never pressure you into doing something you don't want to do.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who was scared that once the excuse of being partners for this class was no longer usable. You'd leave him, you'd find someone else to entertain your afternoons, someone who will replace him. So scared that he’d grovel to the professor, asking for an extension. Telling you, “Somethings missing- I'll let you know once I've finished my part.” when you'd ask him if he was finished with it yet. Knowing he did that summary days ago, only having it on another doc so you wouldn't see that he finished it.

Obsessive!Choso who spent the last few classes he had left with you on the verge of tears. His heart was heavy in his chest, pocketing all the notes you had exchanged with him. Running out of space to put them, finding an old converse box and placing them inside. Using so much tape too quickly, trying his best to preserve the pieces of paper. Nights where he'd re-read them, feeling guilt for leaving you. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt like his brain was going to explode, the anxiety of turning in the assignment was too much. Knowing he would have to turn it in before winter break- right before he left you. ‘I want to trust you,’ he thought, your name in his mind as though he was speaking to you. ‘I really do. But it's not that I don't fully trust you. I don't trust the people you’ll be left with. The people without families- like you. Who will prey on you. Who will make you think they're just like you. But they're not, they're just trying to manipulate you-’ You scanned his face, knowing he was thinking of something else while you were talking. “You okay?” You asked, seeing him shake his thoughts away before answering, “Just thinking.” he replied, a pained smile on his face. “About?” You asked, wondering what he could be thinking that was so serious that his face looked almost agonized, while you spoke.

Obsessive!Choso who contemplated lying, but the need to tell the truth was far greater. “I keep thinking about you all alone here. Alone during Christmas.” He confessed, seeing you sigh. “I like being alone. I'll be okay, don't worry.” You assured, almost reaching for his hand to comfort him- but you knew that was too far, and definitely too soon. You didn't want to invade his personal space. Seeing him only return a forced smile to you, knowing he wasn't fully convinced of the idea from his silence. Seeing an opportunity to lift up the mood, you let out a laugh. “I'll call you everyday- Send you pictures every 5 minutes.” You joked, earning a smile from him. “So many pictures that you'll feel like you're still here.” you smiled, seeing him nod his head while smiling. 

Obsessive!Choso who wished you knew how badly he wanted you to actually do those things. Liking the way you tried to ease his worries. Pushing away the anxiety so he could relish the last few times he'd be able to see you. 

Obsessive!Choso who's following habit became worse. Now standing outside your house for what felt like hours. Watching the four walls that kept you from him in the cold wind, standing still when it rained. Even when it started snowing for the first time that season. ‘We’re together for the first snowfall. You know what that means right? True love will blossom between us.’ Seeing you through the curtainless window, watching you close a thin curtain- as though you felt him watching you. Now only letting him see your shadow. Smile on his face when you'd call him- your tone made it clear that you were grinning ear to ear the whole time, oblivious to the fact that he was just a few yards away from you. Seeing you pace in front of the window as he spoke to you. ‘I know you want me to make a move. But I’ll wait. I will wait till the moment you feel the same way I do.’ He'd think, listening to you speak. 

Obsessive!Choso who thanked whatever celestial being that was out there, for making the lights on the sidewalk go out. Watching your house without fear of someone seeing him. ‘For now-I will love you from a distance,’ he professed, a grin on his face when he thought of your name. ‘I will wait for you.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who turned in the assignment a day before he left. He was pushing it- but he did it for a reason. He did it for you, to make sure you wouldn't give up on him.

Obsessive!Choso who was about to leave- but he needed to see you, just one more time. Walking around campus trying to find you. Checking his phone seeing his plane was leaving in an hour and a half. Seeing you inside the campus cafe- book in your hand. Break had already started, the campus was almost empty, but seeing you doing what you told him you'd do. Catching up on the books you started, but never finished. ‘Even if you didn't know I was looking at you- you look effortless.’ he thought, walking towards the doors of the shop. 

Obsessive!Choso who opens the door and sees you look up at him. Smiling and mouthing a ‘hi’ at him. Walking to the small table you sat at. Not knowing what to say, shaking his head, seeing your face turn in confusion. He was just standing there- not pulling out the chair to sit. “I was- I was about to leave.” He smiled, pulling the chair across from you, rings clashing against the wooden back.

Obsessive!Choso who sat down and seemed fidgety, compared to the chivalric aura he usually kept. “And you decided you needed one last shitty coffee before leaving. Smart.” You smiled, joking in hopes he'd loosen up a little. “No-” he smiled, softening his expression. Seeing you place your book down, making sure to remember the title. He wanted to say a million things, tell you how he needed to see you. He needed to say goodbye. As though he was your friend of 10 years leaving to fight in a war, feeling like if he left you; he would never see you again. “I wanted-” He started, closing his eyes and fidgeting with his hands. “I wanted to say ‘goodbye’ to you, before I left.” Seeing you fight off a smile, your eyes blinking rapidly at his words. “That's sweet of you.” You smiled, tilting your head and seeing him look up. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt his cheeks warm at your words. “What time’s your flight?” You asked, picking up your coffee and taking a sip. “In an hour.” He exhaled, seeing you widen your eyes. “What are you still doing here? You're going to be late!” you exclaimed with a smile. ‘I know, I know. I still have to go get my bags, and call an uber to take me across town.’ He thought, hearing you say the same things he was thinking, calling your name in his mind, ‘But I don't care. I will buy another one, I will spend another fortune on a useless ticket home. I needed to see you.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who was practically pushed out the doors of the shop, standing in front of him with a look on your face as though you were waiting for something. “I'll call you.” You mumbled, looking into his eyes for the very first time. “I’ll answer.” He replied, hesitating to take a step back before walking away, looking back and seeing you wave goodbye at him through the windows. Closing his eyes, feeling his feet want to turn around, looking back once more. Already sitting back in the chair you were in when he first walked in. ‘Wait for me.’ he thought, speed walking back to his apartment.

Obsessive!Choso ran through the airport, being 15 minutes late- but he made it. Standing in the line to board the plane, looking over to a small gift shop. Seeing the cover of the book you were reading- running over and buying it as the line moved. Almost 30 dollars, but fuck. You were worth it.

Obsessive!Choso who got home to his brothers, he was happy to see them but something was missing. You were missing, spending the first night in his bed picturing you here with him. Being nice to his brothers, joking with them. Waiting for you to call him, or text him. But radio silence. Nothing. It made his head hurt, trying to fight off the thoughts of you being kidnapped. With his luck, the first night he was away from you, you probably would. Knowing how careless you were while walking home, how you didn't take any safety measures like carrying pepper spray or making sure to not take the same route home. ‘I will always make sure you're safe. Make sure you have black out curtains, make sure you don't have to walk home alone.’ Hands behind his head while looking up to the ceiling. ‘And as much as you'd fight me on this- make sure you won't walk around with your earphones in.’ The chances of someone coming up behind you and pressing a chloroform rag to your face were too great. Choso was sure that once he could, he would instill that fear into your head. The fear of someone hurting you, of how dangerous it was being so careless nowadays. The fear of someone taking you away from him.

Obsessive!Choso who opened instagram, clicking your account. His heart shattered. You had privated your account. Almost as though you heard his thoughts of how reckless you were about your privacy. Holding his phone in his hands, staring down at the screen with a mournful look plastered to it. Seeing a notification pop up at the top of his screen, from you. ‘You know me. You know me so well- you know exactly when I need you.’

Obsessive!Choso who screenshotted the notification, opening it and seeing you sent him a photo. Of you with a plate of food in your hand, furrowing your eyebrows playfully. ‘u home yet ?’ he read, closing his eyes and almost reciting a prayer in thanks. Seeing you in a black tank top with his favorite band printed onto it. The first photo you had ever sent him- a photo that only he had. That you took specifically for him. ‘You'd never send this to one of your friends. You showing me your shirt proves it.’ Saving the photo and typing, ‘since like 9pm’ quickly going to his settings and changing his wallpaper to the photo you just sent him. ‘why didnt u tell meeee’ you replied. You didn't give him a whole lot of time to reply before you called him, scolding him playfully. “You didn't want me to call you did you?” you asked, sarcasm making Choso smile. “I know it's late over there- I thought you were asleep.” He replied, doing the same thing he's done every time he's been on the phone with you. Picturing you standing in the same place you were when you took the photo. 

Obsessive!Choso who asked you what you were eating, “Leftover mac n cheese my roommate left.” you replied, almost disappointed with your own answer. ‘Cruel. How cruel of them to leave you with their leftovers. I will always make sure you eat a decent meal- that's right,’ he thought, saying your name. ‘I cook too. Just for you.’ He thought, hearing you let out a laugh when he asked, “Really?” in disappointment. “It was that or frozen pizza that's been there since I moved in.” You smiled. Your cheeks feeling fuzzy at his concern, “How's the reading going?” he asked, trying to ignore the sound of a glass breaking coming from the kitchen. “Meh, boring- the main character in this one I'm reading is annoying.” You shrugged, “As a matter of fact lemme read you one of the stupidest things he's said-” You smiled, opening the book and flipping the pages. “So, anyway, there I go again. Straying away from the point. Where was I?- like who published this? Makes me upset just thinking about how this guy is real.” you spoke, tossing it onto the counter and sighing. “The whole book is like that- it’s all just a mans troubles with women and enjoying hurting them- s’fucking stupid.” You heard him let out a stifled laugh, “It's not funny-” You smiled, hearing him keep laughing, “First book I want to finish and it's bullshit.” you exclaimed, hearing him settle down. “What book is it?” He asked, trying to stop his laugh. ‘I know what book it is. It's the same one you were reading in the cafe. The same one I started reading on the flight.’

Obsessive!Choso who smiled when you said the title. Closing his eyes in triumph. “Why did you get so far reading it?” he asked, knowing that the first page was shocking enough. “I thought- it was a book of someone who gets their karma back- becomes a better person- blah blah blah. But nope, apparently there's 2 more books. Of the same man, with the same troubles.” You replied, taking a bite from your plate and leaning against the counter. Furrowing your eyebrows when you fully processed his question. “How'd you know I was so far into reading it?” you asked, your tone indicated it wasn't a serious question. But it made Choso’s heart drop. “I saw how little pages you had left at the cafe.” He lied. Knowing he had read that page in the book earlier. Not fully read- more skimmed the pages.

Obsessive!Choso who felt relief when he heard you inhale. “I didn't know you noticed such small details like that.” You commented, holding the phone with your shoulder as you took another bite. Choso hummed at your response, “Anyway- don't talk to me about that book.” You grinned, hearing Choso exhale with a smile. You were about to ask him how his brothers were, starting the sentence but hearing a door slam open. “Choso- Yuuji broke moms vase!” You heard a teasing tone through the phone, “I did not!” you heard bickering, Choso mumbled a quick, “I gotta go-” placing his phone on his desk, not hanging up. Hearing Choso scold his younger brother before ending the call. Smiling at how much his tone changed when speaking to his brothers- more authoritative and demanding.

Obsessive!Choso who felt horrible for hanging up the way he did, thinking of how disrespectful it was. The argument that sparked between his brothers ran long, all of them blaming each other for breaking this vase. Which, according to Choso, was priceless. Texting you a quick, ‘sorry i didnt call u back, they just settled down.’ Seeing the message go from delivered to seen. ‘You were waiting for me?’

Obsessive!Choso whose heart felt tight when he read your reply. ‘was just abt to go to bed’ his fingers typing quickly, ‘im sorry, i'll text you in the morning?’ seeing the typing bubble pop up the minute he pressed send. ‘kk talk to u tmmrw. goodnightttt :)’ he smiled at your reply, ‘goodnight :]’ he replied, wanting to send you a <3 heart but he restrained himself.

Obsessive!Choso who texted you every morning, making you smile at his sweet ‘good morning’ texts. Knowing he'd be busy with his brothers so you didn't call him, but your phone was stuck onto your hand, replying to his texts at lightning speed. ‘call me when ur not busy okay?’ you'd ask, making Choso giggle like those words were some kind of great attempt at flirting. And he would- he'd try to. Somehow always being interrupted by his brothers- remembering why he chose a college so far away. But the 2 am calls when he'd hear your voice, quiet and sleepy. They were worth it. Knowing you'd keep yourself awake just to talk to him. The constant pinging from his phone and Choso leaving the room to call you made his brothers suspicious. Even more so when one of them caught a glimpse at his wallpaper, seeing a photo of you- taking his phone and passing it around. Teasing him and asking if he finally found a partner. 

Obsessive!Choso who died of embarrassment when he was talking to you on the phone, one of his brothers knocked loudly at his door. Jumping when he heard the youngest pound at the locked door. “Choso! Open up-” he shouted, twisting the doorknob as he heard you laugh. “Are you talking to your lover?!” he teased through the door, only earning you to laugh louder. Saying ‘Hold on’ Before muting the call, standing up and opening the door to see them huddled to hear what he was saying. A dark aura around him when he saw them, “What is wrong with you.” He stated, rather than asked, seeing them look up at him. “I needed 20 bucks…?” the youngest asked, Choso reaching into his pocket and tossing the money at him. Closing the door and locking it again. Coming back to the phone and pressing the unmute button. 

Obsessive!Choso mumbled, “Sorry.” hoping you didn't hear what just happened. Closing his eyes as you let out a small laugh, “Am i crazy or did your brother just call me your ‘lover’?” you asked, a smile evident in your tone. “You heard that?” he grimaced, hearing you laugh. “Yes. Yes, I did.” You answered, “What are you telling your brothers that they think I'm your ‘lover’, Choso?” You teased, hearing him exhale with a smile. ‘You're teasing me? Bad. This is bad.’ he thought, making his heart beat quickly in a good way, and in a bad way. Knowing that he would have to fight off your attempts at flirting with a stick. ‘So very tempting. Too tempting. But it's too soon. I want us to be good friends before I call you mine. But I am already yours. You don't have to worry about that.’

Obsessive!Choso who shut his eyes tightly, instantly regretting the words that came out of his mouth. “I haven't said a thing, but they noticed the texting. And the secret phone calls.” The silence showed him the disappointment you felt. Knowing you wanted to hear how he told them all about you. “Oh! Well I mean anyone would be suspicious of that!” you exclaimed, it got awkward. You felt embarrassed. Thinking that the attempt to make a move flew over his head, or he didn't feel the same. But all the signs? All the longing looks, all the subtle comments he’d say that made you realize he paid more attention to your words than you thought. To your actions, his eyes scan your face when you’d change the color of your lipstick, or when you'd wear a different perfume. Face full of confusion till he noticed what was different- you thought he was into you. ‘Maybe he is- and he just sucks at seeing when someone is flirting with him.’ You'd assure yourself.

Obsessive!Choso who kept saving the pictures you sent him. Of your coffee, of your poetry, of your outfits for the day, sending him a photo of the snow. Pictures of anything you could find, Choso would always smile at them. The ability of scrolling through your instagram wasn't sorely missed. Now being able to see photos of you that you took just for him. And saving every single one. Smile on your lips whenever you'd see he ‘loved an image’ before replying to your messages. 

Obsessive!Choso who was on his phone, refreshing your instagram page over and over again. Switching to his personal account, an account he made in highschool. Not even posted anything, less than 100 followers. Seeing a small red circle at the top right corner. Someone requested to follow him. Opening the notification and seeing you. Slack jawed when he saw the sight. Screenshotting quickly and accepting it. Requesting you back, seeing an incoming call flash onto the screen. “Hey.” he smiled at your words, gulping his excitement. “I was hoping you'd answer.” You continued, ‘God, you are everything to me.’ he thought.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like you were finally letting him in. “I know I told you I didn't really like social media.” You started, ‘Yes. Tell me the truth.’ he thought, picturing you in your bedroom, closing your eyes in embarrassment. “I lied a little- I just post a lot of bullshit, nd i was embarrassed you'd see that and think ‘Jesus this person is so annoyinnggg’ that's why!” You laughed, making Choso smile. “Well let me see-” he said, putting the phone on speaker and scrolling through your account, like he craved doing for the past few days. Making approving sounds as you told him to look away. 

Obsessive!Choso who called your name, grinning ear to ear, “Yes Choso?” You replied, mimicking the serious tone he called your name in. He felt it again, he felt his mouth speak before his brain could catch up. “Don’t ever worry about me finding you annoying, ever. Okay?” opening his eyes in shock at his own words. Only making you mute yourself to let out an over excited laugh, cheeks in pain from how hard you were smiling. Unmuting yourself and having the courage to say something. “Promise?” You let out, fiddling with the drawstring of your hoodie. “I promise.” He replied, making you exhale harshly. “I want to punch you in the face.” You laughed, making him laugh through his nose. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, knowing the answer. “No. You didn't, and that's why!” You exclaimed. Rolling to lay on your stomach, shoving your face into your pillows. 

Obsessive!Choso knew that his attempts at brushing off your flirting weren't doing anything. He knew that the harder he'd try, the harder it would be to not flirt back. 

Obsessive!Choso who answered your request for a facetime, doing his hair in the bathroom. Seeing you pop up on his phone. “Heyyy” You started, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw him getting ready, “Woahhh, you got a date?” You smiled, seeing him look at you with a grimace. ‘Jealousy. Don't be possessive, I would never commit adultery. I only have eyes for you.’ he thought, scrambling with his hands before answering, “I have family photos with my brothers today. Thus-” He looked at the camera, his hands pointing to the ugly christmas sweater he was wearing. “This monstrosity.” He finished, making you laugh. Taking 3 pictures of him to tease him, but it didn't work. ‘You want pictures of me? Do you use them as your wallpaper too?’ He only smiled at the sudden flashes of white from his phone. “Send me pictures of the photos. I need to see the Kamo family in matching sweaters.” You smiled, picturing them all in the awkward style that was used in the 90’s. He squinted his eyes, already picturing your reaction when you'd see the photos. “I’ll think about it.” sarcasm filled his tone as he fought off a smile. 

Obsessive!Choso who put on his jewelry, all while you were propped up and watching him. “When do you get back again?” You asked, seeing him look at you whilst fixing his rings. “I was planning on getting back on the 6th of January. But I was thinking-” He smiled, “Of coming back on the 29th.” Picking up his phone and seeing you smile. “Good idea. Its been fucking boring out here. I forgot how many unstimulating people there were at this school.” You exhaled. ‘Say you miss me. Say it.’  

Obsessive!Choso who saw you post a photo of a book earlier. “And the reading?” he asked, putting his shoes on. “It's a little better- I picked up Gone Girl.” you exhaled, “Good choice.” He grinned, seeing you exasperate. “Controversial- I know, but I kinda see myself in the main character?” You confessed, making a chill run down his spine. “Not the whole- murdering and framing someone for crimes-” you laughed, hearing his silence. “I mean in the way she thinks, the way she connects things. It's intriguing.” You clarified. Making him smile, “It was a very good book. The movie too.” He smiled, picturing you being as insane as the main character, “God I loved the movie.” You trailed off. ‘This was fate. Are you telling me you feel the same way I do? In your own way- but still.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who saw you started posting two plates on a table in a restaurant. Wondering who you could be with. ‘All your friends are out of town, roommates too. Who are you with?’ wanting to ask you, but that wasn't his place. Not just yet. But that didn't stop him from scouring your following list, going through your tags. Trying to find who this person you were with was. But not even a hint was dropped.

Obsessive!Choso who sent you the photos of his family, as awkward as you pictured them. Noticing there weren't any parents, just him and his younger brothers. Calling him immediately and laughing, “Choso- you all look adorable.” You laughed, making him blush. “This is my new laptop wallpaper, I love these pictures.” You smiled, “Nope, that's not necessary.” Choso smiled, his tone full of embarrassment., But also feeling his chest warm. ‘Making me your screensaver, and telling me you love the pictures I'm in? Can we get married already?’

Obsessive!Choso who received a picture of your laptop, you acted on your words. The photo was your screensaver, not just on your computer- but on your phone as well. Your attempts to tease him only made him think that you love him as much as he did. And that's all you did, feed into his delusions and only fuel the fire that was burning inside of him since the first day he saw you. You felt like this break with him being gone was necessary. Necessary to step back and see how you really feel for him. Remembering you've only been friends with him for- if you were being generous, was a month and a half. True, you found him intriguing before you became friends. But you didn't want to risk it. Ruin a friendship with someone like him. Slowly reeling in the line you had thrown at him, becoming open to the idea of him being just a friend. 

Obsessive!Choso was on the flight home, a week earlier than he had planned- but Christmas was over. And he didn't want to be away from you any longer. Leaving his bags at his apartment before walking onto campus, small piles of snow around the doors of the coffee shop. realizing how much it really snowed. Reaching his hand for the door knob but pulling away when he hears his name being called. Turning around to see you, speed walking to him. The big coat you wore made you look like a walking marshmallow. Smiling when he saw your face, thinking of how much he longed to see you. The pixelated facetimes and photos you sent him not coming close to showing how beautiful you looked face to face. 

Obsessive!Choso who blinked and somehow opened his eyes to see the top of your head, your cheek pressed to his chest. Your arms around him, hands hesitating to hug you back at the shock. Feeling his hands rest on your puffy jacket, almost nervous to touch you. Nestling your face to his chest and murmuring “Missed you.” Pulling away and looking up at him with a smile, cold weather making his nose pinkish. “I missed you too.” He smiled, almost gulping for breath. Seeing you take a step back, smile on your face. Opening your mouth to say something, “There you are, I was wondering where you ran off to.” you were interrupted. A man coming up behind you, hand on your waist- almost pulling you away from Choso. Watching you lean into his touch- 'Um?' calling your name in his head, almost in anger. ‘Who the fuck is this?’ Seeing you smile while looking over at him. 

Obsessive!Choso who hid his irritation well, jaw clenched and eyebrows threatening to furrow. Seeing you scramble for words, “How rude of me- This is my good friend Choso I was telling you about.” You smiled, looking at the man who looked Choso up and down. Just with that, Choso knew this guy was using you. Just by looking at him. ‘I didn't know you were into pretty boys, older too.’ he thought, watching your eyes sparkle when you looked over at him. “And this- This is my… friend, Theo.” You beamed. ‘You didn't wait for me. But you also didn't give up on me completely. The hesitation at calling him your 'friend' tells me that.’ silence filling the air as you smiled, waiting for them to greet each other. “We were about to go to dinner, do you want to join us, Choso?” You asked. Seeing your 'friend' look over to you with a certain look on his face you only see in men who were expecting something more from a person. Sickeningly sweet smile on Choso's face when he heard 'Theo' speak, “He just got off a flight babe-” He started. ‘Babe. Babe? What an uncreative and unimaginative thing to call you, no wonder you invited me. He must not make you laugh, but that's what I'm here for. I'm here to make you see that this 'Theo' is nothing but a place holder. A place holder for me.'

-

pt 6 here

LET ME KNOW IF U WANNA BE TAGGED PLS ITS MY FAVORITE PART ( if u wanna be tagged without commenting pls just say sum like 'tag me continually' i don't wanna @ someone who doesn't wanna be @ ykno?

IM SORRY I ADDED ANOTHER MAN BUT PLS BE PATIENT I HAVE PLANS FOR THIS.......I wrote this today and was blushing and kicking my feet the whole time. Started at 12 pm, and finished at 3 am. I love doing this. alr writing the next part hehe

[songmingisthighs]

Project Jekyll & Hyde

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ch. ii - the vessel

group : ateez

pairing : mafia!ateez x research intern psychologist!reader

genre : action, fantasy, mature

word count : 2 k

warning : medical fantasy, depiction of DID,

disclaimer : this fic contains depiction of real life mental disorder that has been simplified and/or adjusted to fit into a fictive narrative and also depiction of mafia life. the author does not support any and all depiction of criminal activities and medical and clinical practices in this story, anything and everything written is published for the sake of fantasy. read at your own discretion.

a/n : so i suddenly had the urge to revive this fic because the idea is still fresh in my mind and i thought it would be good to put the story out there again

buy me coffee ?

The moment the Doctor opened the door where the vessels were, everyone's chatters stopped and they stood frozen in front of each tube.

"Say hello to the new bodies of your alters," The Doctor said, smiling widely and proudly as some of the eight men walked closer to the tubes.

"Bodies? These things are blobs," Jongho pointed out, cringing at the sight of the fleshy round thing, floating in the middle of the seemingly gigantic tubes. 'You're not putting me in there,' Apple scoffed inside Jongho's head, "What is this exactly?" Jongho asked, confused and frankly inquisitive. Sure, his alter is a huge pain to him but as he had been with Apple for so long, there was a slight sense of connection with him so of course Jongho had to know where Apple would go before they part.

Mingi almost had his face pressed onto the glass of the tube, knocking on it with his pointer finger when the blob pulsed, causing him to screech and jump back, "That thing just moved!" He exclaimed. Seeing this was almost comical to you as you realized that the big mafia man is actually a scaredy cat. Mingi grabbed Yunho by the sleeve and pointed at the tube, "Dude, you saw that thing moved, right?" "Well, of course, it does," The Doctor stepped closer to him and tapped on the tube too, showcasing that the blob could move, "They are alive and they can respond to different stimuli which include sounds and vibration but also tactile," he explained.

To that, Yeosang stepped up, eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean they are alive? Are you telling me you actually use a human egg and inseminate it to become a vessel?" The Doctor pursed his lips and took a moment to answer, trying to form the correct words. Thankfully, you stepped up and spoke up, "It's not a human egg, Mr. Kang, I can assure you of that. As the vessel will receive part of your consciousness through an electrical neural connection, we have to find a way to trick the brain into thinking that the flow is organic so it can be accepted. The eggs were donated and they are mammal eggs." Yeosang turned his head to you and narrowed his eyes on you, "And the part about insemination?" "I believe each of you has donated... specimen at the beginning of the trial so we inseminated the eggs to ensure a successful transfer."

Seonghwa stepped up from the back with his eyebrows knitted together, "Wait, so... This is... Part of us?" You shrugged, "In a sense, just to ensure acceptance in the transfer." Yeosang stepped forward with a scowl on his face, "So you made offspring that's part us and part some damn animal!?" he huffed but as he finished his sentence, you saw his face shift almost maniacally, "Wicked." It was Doc who had momentarily taken the light. The Doctor chuckled and nodded, "So I take it you approved of my little creation here?" 'Doc' leaned closer to the tubes and he stared from side to side, thinking, "It would've been better if you had allowed me to partake in this creation." Just as he said it, Wooyoung lunged at him, effectively causing you to crash down to the floor as well. "Better? Better!? You created me you sick son of a bitch, you brought me out and made sure Wooyoung would experience the same thing you do because he's Yeosang's best friend and you hated that, right? You hated how close they always were and you hated how he made Wooyoung hate you because he managed to make Yeosang realize how absolutely vile you are and-" before Wooyoung could finish his words, San and Yunho had grabbed his arms and held him up while Mingi and Seonghwa helped Yeosang or 'Doc' up. "Are you okay?" Jongho asked, extending his hand out for you to take. You were rather shaken up from the shock but you simply nodded and took his help.

The Doctor stood in front of Wooyoung and spoke with a stern voice, "Knives, we have talked about you attacking Doc like that. As Wooyoung doesn't require your assistance or defence, I would like for you to give the light back to Wooyoung, please."

Displeased, 'Knives' growled at the doctor but his attention shifted to you as you got back on your feet. "Well, well," he smirked, "I wish we would've been introduced when I wasn't about to rip Doc out of Yeosang myself, but as per usual, Doc is such a big disappointment." he snarled at 'Doc' once again.

At the mention of him. Doc smirked and taunted him by taking a step forward, "Lulu," he said. You were confused at what it meant but the feeling shifted to panic as 'Knives' started thrashing against Yunho and San and tears started streaming down his face. "Bastard! Asshole! Murderer! You killed her! You made Wooyoung kill off Lulu and you know it!" The doctor immediately grabbed 'Knives' by the shoulders while Mingi and Hongjoong dragged Doc out of the room as they called out for Yeosang to take back the light. "No, no, no, Knives, Lulu decided to leave during our program, remember? Lulu wanted you to take care of Wooyoung for her because she knew you could protect him and one of the things he didn't want is for you to start blaming Doc for things he didn't do." The way 'Knives' stopped moving was almost robotic and even the way he turned to The Doctor was almost unsettling. "You don't know what he whispers at night, You don't now what he plans, you don't know what he wants. You think you were in control doctor, but Doc has a plan. Doc has plans bigger than you could imagine." "Plans?" The Doctor asked with furrowed eyebrows, "What plans?"

Before The Doctor's question could be answered, Wooyoung's eyes turned dazed and his body relaxed. It didn't take long before Wooyoung straightened up and gasped, causing Yunho and San to unlatch from him. "Sorry, I- I couldn't stop him this time," he then averted his eyes at you, "I'm sorry to have caused you to fall like that, I hope Knives didn't traumatize you there." You wanted to say no, the word was hanging on your lips, but for some reason, you could only seem to swallow the lump in your throat before you averted your gaze and stepped back with so many questions running through your head.

"Okay, I think we had enough... Craziness for today," Seonghwa said, eyeing the door and then the specimens. The Doctor nodded and cleared his throat, "Yes, of course, my purpose was to show you the specimens so that when we finally transfer you all in three days, you would not be surprised as to what awaits you all," he smiled, albeit slightly tensed.

Soon enough, everyone was herded out of the room where they found Mingi and Hongjoong standing on Yeosang's sides as he was calming down.

"You okay?" Yeosang asked, staring directly at Wooyoung who nodded and smiled at his friend, "I'm good, no worries." It was admirable how despite everything, the two of them were still so understanding of each other not getting the situation with their alters oto affect their actual friendship. Though, after seeing and hearing what Knives did and said, you had to wonder what exactly happened in the past, you wanted to know what it was exactly that Doc was saying. You had heard, well, read, about Lulu when you were doing your research about the participants, their alters, and their history, but the new revelation enticed your curiosity. You had read on the report that it was The Doctor who managed to guide Lulu out of Wooyoung's life for good but judging by the way he said it, Doc might have had a hand, You wondered if you should try to find out somehow but you weren't sure if it was wise. After all, it was not in your job description to pry, You were tasked to just be there and do as told. work with what was given and based on what is already there.

The Doctor let out a sharp exhale but smiled at Yeosang, "I hope you're fine now, Mr. Kang. I hope this situation further strengthens your will to let Doc go when the time comes." You were surprised that even after the situation, The Doctor would still talk about the experiment. You understood that he was a scientist and all and it was his responsibility to be dedicated to his craft, But not like that, not when a distressing thing just happened. You wondered if The Doctor just couldn't help himself or has the experiment had dulled his humanity.

Despite the worry, you still dug into your pocket and went over Yeosang to hand him a piece of candy you had fished. You offered him the small sweets with a simple smile and no words, not really knowing what to say anyway but finding that no words were actually required to just be there for him. Yeosang seemed surprised at this but he slowly took it from your hand and his demeanour finally relaxed for you for the very first time. "Thank you," he smiled gently, causing your smile to grow. "It's nothing," you answered.

The Doctor stepped back and nodded to himself, "Well, I think you all should take a break for today, I will leave you all to handle some things. I trust Ms. (y/l/n) to escort you while you all get to know each other a little bit better, does that sound okay?" All of them nodded slowly and as The Doctor departed, the rest of you also started to walk the other way.

It was a coincidence that you were at the very back of the group, but it was lucky because just as everyone started clearing out, you noticed the way Hongjoong was staring at the doctor who was typing into the keypad of the specimen room. It wasn't until he noticed you watching him did he broke out of his daze, clearing his throat and wiping his nose, "I don't think I could get used to the fact that all of this is really coming true. I'd bet you never would've guessed that you would be part of something as fucked up as this," he smiled. You chuckled and shrugged, "Stranger things have happened. It's beyond my wildest imagination but also, It's my responsibility. As weird as it sounds, I think I will get used to this. Eventually." Your answer made Hongjoong laugh but he didn't comment anything about it as he simply gestured for you to walk in front of him, going as far as pretending to bow slightly as how a gentleman should.

As you walked past him, you met eyes when he lifted his face a bit and it was then that you saw a flicker of something that sent chills down your spine. While you haven't spent much time with Hongjoong yourself, you could feel that there was something sinister about his eyes. You couldn't point to what it was exactly but you couldn't help but blurt out something to test your theory.

"Red?" You called, thinking that maybe by calling his alter, you would be able to see if it was really him or if it was just you being paranoid.

Your breath hitched when you saw a flash of surprise but before you could even call upon it, the flash was gone and Hongjoong chuckled, "Uh... What?" he seemed to be himself which made you slightly disappointed but oddly still alert. Not wanting to go over the line, you shrugged and smiled at him, "Sorry, I was just... Worried because your eyes looked red there," you pointed. Hongjoong let out a gasp and immediately tried to rub his eyes, "Ah shit, this is what I get for not sleeping at a reasonable time, I guess. Or for not sleeping every day like how a normal human being would," he sheepishly confessed. "Well, I can get you some eye drops. I have been through enough restless nights where I'm forced to read reports and research to know something that would help with tired eyes. I'll go get it for you," you smiled before jogging away.

As soon as there was some distance between the two of you, Hongjoong's expression dropped and his smile twisted to a menacing smirk.

"Interesting."

network :

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[gamblersdoll]

cw: power play, boss on employee, blowjob, p in v. please dont say “this is not..” yes its fiction.

this had to be the busiest season of it, of all the year.

the business always boomed around june or july, production sales and having more accidents in the summer. see, when it got hot in the south, no one knew how to drive. the heat must be frying their brains.

but thats where your job came in, you making commissions exactly how you always did.

and you were the most important and wanted agent in your industry, town, and on the market. your skills were unmatched, making more commission because you were a smooth talker.

do you think that passed by your boss, Nanami? you were crazy to think that. he always saw how well you did.

“come to my office, asap.” the message said on your work phone. your bosses’ voice never sounds completely comforting or warm, sometimes stoic. and dare it be past five o’clock, because now he’s just a grump.

you knocked on his door, received a ‘come in.’ you open the door, peaking in through the small crack.

“i did say come in, close the door behind you, please.” he said, nodding in response when you do exactly that.

such a good listener.

“what did you need, sir?” you ask, fixing yourself ad you sat down with minimal effort. he turns back to you, handing a stack of papers. “whats this?”

“im offering a promotion.” he says, a small smile on his face at your excited reaction. “for what could be a small price to pay, just maybe.”

“anything, this is great!” you cheer, earning a small chuckle from him.

and you would do anything for this promotion. you were on your knees, hands on his clothed thick thighs. your scalp burned, nanami pulling your hair. he didn’t pull too hard, knowing you had an attachment to your hair.

your throat expanded when his cock plunged into the warm tunnel, eyes tearing up as you look up to him. your eyeliner became ruined, runny at that.

his groans vibrated around the room, feeling more comfortable since all the employees had basically clocked out and left around their usual end of day meetings. his hips instinctively thrusted into your throat, curling your toes so you didnt gag too much on him.

“get up.” he hushed, pulling you up and bending you over the desk. he roughly pulled your tight mini skirt. he should reprimand you, you were out of dress code. your skirt was too tight and your ass could fall out any minute.

oh well, he had his cock sunk deepen into you to even give a flying fuck about some dress code that was put in place in the fucking early two thousands.

“do you like this, lovely?” he said in your ear, hovering above you. he nodded, “yeah? you do, dont you?” when you mumbled your positive answer. he undid his tie, replacing his neck for your wrists. he tied it enough to not cut off circulation, yet to tug you back whenever he so pleased.

“how bad do you need this promotion, lovely?” he asked in your ear, forcing you to stand against him while he thrusted his cock inside your slippery walls.

“need it so bad..” you choke out, feeling nanami’s hand squeeze only a tad bit more.

“say ‘thank you, sir.’ for the promotion.” he egged on, hands going to your hips as he groaned louder, feeling himself get closer to that brink. he felt his balls tighten, rolling his eyes as his veins popped out of his neck.

“thank you sir!” you cry out, he was hitting that spot that made your legs shake and your thick thighs quiver. “take me, use me please! anything!” you moan, feeling him slam your body back down onto his desk as your cheek pressed up against it.

he breathes heavily, moaning louder as he pumps his cock into you for the last few times. he made a mental note that he had remembered to put the magnum on before he even decided to take your body for his own.

“dont move, i have some wipes that i can clean you with.” he assures, rummaging through his desks and finally wiping the sweat, spit, drool, and your own milky essence coming out of your folds.

“thank you, sir..” you mumble, looking over your shoulder and he hushes you softly.

“you deserve this, youre a hard worker. your efforts never go unnoticed.” he praises in his own way.

[topgun-imagines]

Forget Me Not (iv)

Requested: no

Summary: With the simple stress-induced headache out of the way, you finally get the opportunity to reconnect with Bradley.

Word count: 2.0k

Warnings: hospitals, amnesia, mentions of death, headaches, memory loss, inaccurate medical terms, angst.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x wife!reader

Previous part | Next part

“Jake,” No matter how many times Natasha called his name, the head-strong pilot refused to stop. Still, they followed him through the sterile-smelling halls of the hospital until he stopped abruptly. “Hangman,” She tried again, more firm this time. Wordlessly, he turned to her and snapped something along the lines of ‘What, Trace?’ “Look, you know that we’ll be behind you no matter what,” Jake stared at her blankly and willed her to just get to the point. Your doctor was on the other side of the door right in front of him. He could be talking to him right now if Phoenix would just hurry up. “But you have to tell us what’s going on.”

The pilot should feel elated. He should be excited at the fact that his wife is feeling better. However, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of dread that was growing stronger and stronger by the second. Jake may not have been a doctor, but he did know that a headache after brain trauma was not a good sign.

He tried to muster up a grateful smile, he really did, but all he could offer her was a barely-there tired grin. “I know, Nix,” Sucking in a sharp breath, he knew that he had to tell his friends why he was in such a rush. “We were just talking and then she suddenly seemed like she was in pain. She said she was going to sleep.” Instantly, Bradley and Natasha understood what the problem was.

They stood behind him as he knocked on the door and waited for your doctor to answer. When the door was pulled open, the man was just putting his stethoscope around his neck. He greeted Jake with a smile. “What can I help you with, Lieutenant?”

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Jake started, attempting to remain professional even though he was worried sick. Once the older man assured him that it wasn’t a problem, he continued. “But I was hoping that you could come check on my wife. She appeared to have a headache earlier.” The man nodded and followed Jake back to your room. When he stepped inside quietly with Jake close on his heels, Bradley and Natasha took that as a sign to return to their seats.

Inside the room, you were peacefully sleeping on the scratchy hospital sheets, breathing softly and eyelids fluttering every few seconds. Jake watched you worriedly, working his lip between his teeth. The doctor was careful as he looked in your eyes, still trying not to wake you up. He checked a few more monitors before offering Jake a reassuring smile. “Everything seems fine. Given all the stress she has endured in the past couple days, a headache isn’t out of the norm.” With those words, Jake could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Jake thanked your doctor as he stepped out of the room. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. After everything that had happened over the past few days, all he wanted was for things to be okay. At least for a little while.

When Bradley saw your doctor step out of the room, he patted Phoenix’s hand gently before stepping inside. The first thing he noticed was Jake leaning against the wall, his head tipped back and eyes shut tightly. “You okay, man?” The usually put-together pilot startled at the sound of his friend's voice.

He cleared his throat and nodded, his eyes only meeting Bradley’s briefly before looking back to you. Bradshaw stepped forward to comfort his friend, but instantly noticed the dishevelled state of his clothes and hair. He had been wearing the same outfit for almost a week and Bradley was convinced that he hadn’t showered for at least two. “Jake,” Bradley started cautiously, not wanting to piss the man off. He only hummed, not taking his eyes off your peacefully sleeping form. “When was the last time you showered?” That caused his eyes to snap to Bradley.

“I’m not leaving her. Not again.” The words were out of his mouth in mere seconds. Jake squeezed your hand softly, completely disregarding Bradley’s statement as he looked at your sleeping face.

Bradley shook his head. “That’s not what I'm saying,” Trying again, Bradley chose his words even more carefully this time. “I’m just saying that she’s sleeping now. You have time to go and take a shower and take care of yourself,” He knew that there was one statement he could use that was a surefire way to get Jake to agree. “She wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Silently, Jake stood from that creaky, uncomfortable chair and turned to his wingman. Before he responded, he sucked in a long breath and released it. “You’re right,” He nodded, silently thanking Rooster for calling him out. Just as he was about to step out the door, he turned back. “Would you stay with her? I don’t want her waking up alone.” Bradley could hear the care laced with worry in his friend's voice.

He nodded reassuringly, taking a seat in the creaky plastic chair and pulling his phone out. As Jake closed the door softly, Bradley began swiping through another level of Candy Crush.

“Morning, Sleepyhead,” Bradley grinned as you blinked your eyes open. You smiled at the sound of his voice and twisted your head to face him. You noticed that you could no longer feel your heart beating in your temples. That sent a surge of relief through you. Before you could respond to the mustached man, he spoke again. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

You nodded with a soft smile, giving Bradley permission to ask whatever he wished. “I know that you probably don’t like people asking you this, but can you remember anything else?” His words were quiet as he tried not to scare you. While he was curious to know whether you could remember anything else, he didn’t want you to feel pressured.

You nodded before you began speaking. “It’s okay,” Pausing for a few seconds, you tried your hardest to remember anything that you could. “I remember.” Suddenly, memories of a breakfast spent in bed with someone flooded through your mind. You could see the colour of the sheets and feel the cool sea breeze from the open window. There was a man next to you, he had his arm wound around your waist, his thumb drawing delicate patterns into the bare skin of your waist. You were looking at him with pure love. The only problem was that you couldn’t see his face. You had no idea who he was.

You gasped, tears welling in your eyes at the knowledge that you had someone to come home to. Someone that you loved more than you could know. And you couldn’t even remember him. You sniffled quietly and Bradley watched you through concerned eyes. “I remember a breakfast in bed,” You started and the pilot immediately softened. “I can remember the colour of the sheets and the smell of the food. But there’s someone beside me that I can’t see,” Eyes slipped shut, fat, hot tears rolling down your flushed cheeks in waves. Desperately, your mind chased the man that you couldn’t remember, regardless of how hard you tried. “I can’t remember him.” It sounded almost like a whimper as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

Suddenly, you remembered the man sitting beside you. “I’m sorry.” You murmured, embarrassment serging through you. The lump in your throat was almost overwhelming as you cleared your throat.

Once you wiped your eyes once more, you turned to Bradley. You couldn’t pretend to miss the sympathetic look in his eyes. You hated seeing that look. It felt as if everyone around you had been looking at you like that ever since you woke up. For once, you wished that the people around you could just treat you like they did before the incident. Not that you could remember how that was. You knew that it was because they cared about you, and you really did appreciate it, but you couldn’t help but feel as if they were looking down on you in some way.

Bradley watched as you tried your hardest not to let any more tears fall. It reminded him of the scared girl that he had met all those years ago. When Bradley first met you, you had just joined the Navy. You were living in a small apartment on the south side of Baltimore, away from any of your family and friends. It had only been a few weeks since you moved into your tiny apartment when he met you.

The pilot had met you in a bar, spending the entire night trying to befriend you. It was obvious to most that you were the more reserved type, and even though you tried to ignore him, eventually, Bradley was able to crack through your tough exterior. Ever since that moment, he was your best friend. The two of you were inseparable. It almost made you wonder whether there was something else between the two of you that you couldn’t remember.

“Scoot over.” Bradley tilted his chin forward. You shuffled over slowly, tears still welling in your eyes as you thought back on your memory. Who was the man in the dream? Could it have been Bradley? One of his arms settled around your shoulder after you nodded in approval. Pulling you into his side, one of his thick thighs rested against yours and his foot nudged yours.

Your head dropped down to rest on his shoulder. Bradley’s thumb brushed slowly over the soft skin on your arm. “You don’t have to remember everything all right now,” He murmured, no louder than a whisper. “The most important thing is that you're okay,” You could feel his chest rumbling under your ear, his voice being even deeper than it normally was. “You gave us all a really good scare. All we want is for you to be okay. Okay?” He grinned when you giggled from the tickle of his mustache against your cheek.

All that could be heard in the small hospital rooms was the sound of your soft laughs as Bradley told you tales of the mischief that you and he got into over the past few years. While you enjoyed hearing Jake tell you stories about how the two of you met, there was just something about listening to Rooster talk than had you snuggling further into him.

“One of my favourite memories of us was in that bar one night in Tulsa. With the piano.” That was all you had to say and Bradley knew what you were talking about. One night, after the two of you had been reunited in Oklahoma, you headed out to the local bar. Bradley decided to teach you how to play Great Balls of Fire on the piano. That night had ended with you and Bradley stumbling drunkenly back to his housing, lying out on the back porch while you stared up at the stars. It was by far one of your favourite moments.

That had Bradley chuckling quietly as he reminisced on that wonderful night. As your head dropped further into his chest, you started to wonder whether or not it could have been Bradley in your memory. Your hand reached up and you fiddled with his dog tags, seeking comfort in the presence of the mustached aviator. After the hell that you had endured over the past few days, you were ecstatic that you could finally feel at peace.

Bradley continued whispering softly to you, not sparing any detail as he recounted moment after moment from your past. Your eyes fluttered shut, soothed by the low timbre of Bradley's voice. It was hard to remember a time when you had ever felt this relaxed. Holding you closely, Bradley was happy that he was able to draw your mind away from the overwhelming stress of the past few days. Little did you know that Jake was standing just outside the door, listening intently to every word whispered between you and his wingman.

a/n: thank you all so much for reading!! Stay tuned for future parts of this series and let me know if you would like to be tagged <3

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @supercatgirl006 @blueoorchid @dempy @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @randomfangirl97 @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess @fandom-life-12 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @emmza63 @cornishkat @iceman-kazansky @himbos-on-ice @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @djs8891 @blackwidownat2814 @dakotakazansky @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @memoriesat30 @sarahjoestewy-blog @ducks118 @marvelouslyme96 @linkpk88 @missathlete31 @xoxabs88xox @abbymwall @eternallyvenus @keileighr @rey26 @lt-spork

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[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

is that a half alive reference in your bio?

YES! YES IT IS!

Thank you so much for asking me this I love this question! And you! I love half•alive, and creature is my favorite song in the whole entire world, and now I'm going to talk about it thanks for activating my gush-over-things-I-love mode :D

I love this verse. Well, I love every single vowel in this song but that's beside the point. Just mentally insert 'I love this verse' for each paragraph here please. I love the childlike wonder in wanting to discover who we are and what our purpose is. We already have a pretty good idea, we've figured a lot out about ourselves, but there's still so much more to see and discover and come to terms with, because we are complex beings. So complex in fact, that we will never know every part of ourselves objectively, which is why which is why we need someone all-knowing and all-powerful with faith infallible, with wisdom and justice and gentleness to look inside of us and judge us for exactly who we are.

And here, from the good but still limited perspective, he simply states that he's flawed! He's worn! The world is in a fallen state, we've all been blighted by the sin in the world, that tears and wears and corrupts our souls and flesh and blurs the image of who we truly are. And because of that, he is going to trust the Artist molding him and who he is, Jesus, who is higher than us and knows us, knows what's best for us, and always has our best interests in mind. He is the creator, and we are the creation, the Creature.

Then we have the ~chorus~ (I could cry its so beautiful) I am haunted and flawed both by the fallen nature of the world and by my own flesh, and marred. And I am holy and created by God, made in glory, as He chose to create me in my mother's womb, still a configuration of cells, every bit of me, I am intentional and set apart by Him, fearfully and wonderfully made. And even though life is dark and hard, and it is guaranteed that I will face incredibly difficult challenges that would break me if not for Christ, He will lead me through the valley of the shadow of death, and while it might be dark and scary, and I'm blinded what He's doing and what's going on, I will not be blinded to Him and His glory, which are ever present and ever faithful to us.

The heart is perilous. It's selfish. It wants its own ways and whims and to choose darkness. But its been twisted to be that way by our fallen nature, since the Garden when humanity chose that path. It used to be beautiful and pure and lovely, and in a sense, it still is. There is a duality, it reflects both natures. Our hearts reflect both the perfection and loveliness of the Artist, and the danger and imperfection of humanity's fallen state. We as the Creature are torn between these two things from the Fall.

Our world is dark, and it's only getting darker. But we are called to shine the light of Christ in the darkness, to be a light in dark places when all other lights go out, and to show our relationship with God to the world boldly, since we are not ashamed of the Gospel. And the world feels that. The human heart longs for Eden, longs for peace, longs for a Creator, longs for a loving Father, for a perfect world. We are called to show that Jesus is that answer to that.

We are growing through and because of Christ, always. If you are a Christian, every breath you take should be in pursuit of becoming more like and following Him. Our flesh is naturally inclined to fight to see when it's unclear because our brains and flesh are constantly yammering for knowledge, not caring if it's good or ill. But instead God tells us to be still and to put our peace and assurance in Him instead. He's got this. Our flesh and spirit are at war with each other, the haunted and holy at odds, Jesus reaching to save us from the grasp of the Devil, and He did so by dying and rising again, and bringing new life through his ultimate sacrifice. Because of this we are a sacred note in His symphony, masterfully crafted as a part of His plan, to bring hope to others and glorify God. God took dirt and created Adam, and He's created us for His purpose as well, which we can take assurance and rest and comfort in. We also take comfort and hope in looking forward to when Jesus will return and create a new heaven and a new earth, where life will grow abundantly and death will be defeated and the time for our natures to be torn between haunted and holy will be over, and we can fully have both our soul and our new physical bodies that He will craft for us utterly at His service for our good and His glory. Jesus Christ will throw Satan into the lake of fire, crushing the Evil Prince of this world with His heel, and rule the heavens and the earth, like He already rules our hearts, and will expose both the world's and our own darkness and evil, and He will win against it, making us into new creations through Him, and we will get to walk in the light of His glory and rejoice with Him forever. We have wonder in this redemption, and in the beauty of Jesus discovering us in ways we can never discover ourselves, and there are so many mysteries in life, but all of it points back to God, through us as the creature.

You bet it does.

We don't have to suffer from the darkness in our hearts, we get to turn to the Artist for peace, and are gifted to rest in that as His creature. The darkness isn't our motivation for understanding ourselves and the world, our motivation is the peace that comes from knowing we are created by a perfect God, who, when we put our faith in Him, redeems us, and for the rest of our lives and until we die and are given new bodies, will continue to do so and make us more like Him. Understanding our hearts and the mysteries of God is an exploration with childlike wonder of who He has made us each to be, rather than just trying to understand what drives us and our emotions and moods and feelings and flaws. We get to look beyond our circumstances, we have an innate desire to know our Creator. This song has so much hope and wonder in it, acknowledging the darkness as real and present and active, while clinging to Christ through it all. We get to dive into the mysteries of life and creation, knowing that we are loved and have purpose through Him. We don't fully understand. And we will never have to. We are called to seek His face, and we can trust that the answers we seek are the ones that promise new life.

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††

So! Back to my bio. 'I am creation both haunted and holy' I've been created by Christ, and am a creature. I'm haunted by the fallen world and my sinful flesh. And I'm holy because I've been justified by Grace alone, through Faith alone, in Christ alone. God looked inside of this mess and made a declaration about my state. In my sin and in my flesh, I am a terrible sinner. Nothing good about my by myself. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Any time I've ever tried to do anything without Him it's turned out for the worst.

BUT GOD (probably by favorite phrase in the entire Bible) gave over all of that sin and sickness to Jesus, who through His death on the cross has redeemed it and made me righteous and holy in God's sight. Not because of something that I did, but because of what Jesus did, and God transfers us the righteousness of Jesus to us when we put our faith in Him. And being justified by faith alone does not mean I'm saved because I have faith, but rather that faith is the means that I cling to Christ. I'm saved through the grace of God. And it's in Christ alone because we can't ever become righteous by ourselves ever, even if we had the rest of our lives to, we NEED Jesus to intercede for us. We are both sinners and righteous because of Jesus, both haunted and holy, made in glory. But then when we have faith to cling to, it utterly changes our lives and our hearts, and pushes us to do good works through, for, and because of Him, from now until the end of time.

That line, 'I am creation both haunted and holy' is the entire Gospel message in a single sentence. It's masterfully written. I thank the Artist for it.

This song is so beautiful. And I just took a crack at the lyrics, the instrumentals and Josh's vocals are insanely incredible. Max headphone greatness for this song. And every version of it is utterly lovely. But the orchestral one from In Florescence is my favorite. Sounds like a hymnal arrangement being played in a cathedral.

[dastardly-imbecile]

Mechanical Butterfly (III)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

---

Viktor doesn't run from Singed. Silco sees the burgeoning inventor in the young girl he found, after Vander. Collaborations abound!

---

Wordcount: ~2100

Singed is back by the time the knock comes, which he’s thankful for. He allows Viktor to answer the door himself, absorbed in methodically sorting through the brains of an overgrown rat. 

Standing before it, in the alleyway, is the woman who’d come in Silco’s entourage the day before, and Jinx, the man himself nowhere to be found. Viktor can’t help but be glad for that—he doesn’t know how he’d possibly teach with that man peering over his shoulder at all moments. 

Then again, looking at the sharp expression on her face, she may not be much better. 

Jinx, however, is the picture-opposite to her—face bright, a smile already tugging at her lips, standing tall. A moment of hesitancy flashes over her expression, as she looks up at him, but it doesn’t quell the clear excitement thrumming through her. 

He steps back, murmuring a quiet, “come in.” 

She does so eagerly, and the woman slower, scanning around the lab, clearly looking for danger. 

“Viktor?” She asks him curtly. He nods, though surely she recognizes him from the day before. 

“And you?”

“Sevika.” The answer is sharp. Singed glances up at the name, some note of recognition in his gaze, though he soon turns back to the rodent’s cracked-open head. 

“My room,” he says to Jinx, nodding towards the open door. It’s a small place, cramped, nothing but the bed and the mass of the half-built forge in it. 

“Not so fast,” she growls, “let me check.”

She bustles off towards the room before he can tell her not to touch anything. For what’s essentially glorified babysitting duty, she seems rather serious about it all—then again, she works for Silco. There’s probably a lot of motivation to be good at her job. 

He follows, finds her poking through the space underneath his mattress. 

“I assure you,” he says, “it’s safe.” Not like he’s hiding a bomb in the room—what does she think he wants to do? Blow up a child, her, and himself?

She mutters something inarticulate, strides over to the far wall and leans against it. A vantage point to look at both the room and, in the lab beyond, Singed injecting the rat with a vial of glowing magenta. 

“You can sit,” he tells Jinx, indicating the bed. She does so, padding over to the spot with the attention of a child in a schoolroom, as if he’s some sort of actual instructor. 

On her lap, she holds a small brown bag. He nods at it. 

“What’s that?”

“Oh!” She opens it, and from inside, withdraws a handful of crude, clumsy tools—a screwdriver that’s hardly more than a rusted rod of metal taped to a block of wood, a small mallet with a chunk missing from the end. They look like something a beleaguered shopper trying to exert minimal effort would scrape up in the cheapest parts of the market, which he suspects is exactly what they are. “I brought my own tools. And Silco told me I should make something for you, so I thought-”

Here, from the bottom of the bag, she extracts something else, holds it gently pinched between two fingers and extends her hand for him to take it. He leans forwards, unsure of what it is at first glance—it is only when she drops it into his palm that he realizes. 

It’s a small butterfly. Deceptively delicately crafted—at first glance, it is nothing but a twist of wires, but as he examines it closer, he sees the shape of wings and even gossamer-thin legs. And, lining its back-

Gears. Experimentally, he prods at its wings, and they move, flapping up and down. Everything about it is so small, so carefully put together, that he could not imagine the patience it must have taken. 

“You made this?” He doesn’t bother hiding the admiration in his voice. Just the minutiae of the body and wings is enough, but to attach the mechanisms for it to move is beyond what he’d expected of her. 

She smiles wider, the last of the anxiety melting away. “Yes! Is it… do you like it?”

“I do,” he says softly. He glances at her fingers, the small hands of a child, thin and nimble, and has a sudden idea. “Come here,” he says, beckoning her forwards, towards the forge upon the ground. 

She obliges, slipping off the bed and approaching it—it’s almost as tall as her, and he’s gratified to see similar awe in her eyes. Singed’s appreciation for what he does is nothing more than the occasional comment on his talent, always said in a detached, observational sort of tone. It feels good to be recognized. 

“Inside,” he says, grabbing a flashlight off the top and shining it inside, “can you see that exposed panel?”

“Where it’s peeled back?” She asks, peering in. 

“Yes,” he says. 

Outside, there’s the clatter of a door closing. 

“Where’s he going?” Sevika asks immediately, making him turn, peer out the door. The lab is empty—Singed must have left. 

“I don’t know,” he answers semi-truthfully, “out.”

“Who’s he getting?”

“Nobody,” he says. Does she suspect an ambush? 

Her eyes dart down to regard his twisted leg, and he gets the ugly feeling that she’s currently considering how easily she could beat him in a fight—the answer is, very easily—before they flick back up and she lets out a low sigh. 

By the time he turns back to Jinx, she’s already halfway into the forge. 

“What are you doing?” He asks. Her voice, when it comes back, is muffled. 

“All you have to do is- is connect the green wires, I think, and then make sure to plug the switch in, and then I think you’re missing a part.”

“Missing?” he asks. 

“Yes, you need something to ignite the spark with, right?”

“I’d planned on installing that later,” he says, but she makes a sound of negation. 

“It’d be best here.”

He steps back, takes a moment to think on it—and, yes, it would be most convenient. For the first time, he smiles, and she extracts herself from the forge interior, blue hair a mess and a nervous cast to her mouth. 

“...Would it?” She asks, and he realizes he never responded to her last point. Suddenly, all that confidence is gone, drained out and replaced with something vulnerable. “You know best, obviously, you’re the inventor and you made this and-”

“No,” he says, cutting her off, “no, you were right.”

Still, she doesn’t move. He nods at the forge. “You were doing a good job. If you wish, you can continue with the wires.” He holds up his hand, wriggling the fingers slightly. “My hands are a bit too large.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, and for what, he’s unsure, but he nods anyways, watches as she returns to the forge. 

Must be an hour, maybe two, before Sevika steps off the wall. Currently, he’s walking Jinx through the construction of a filter, watching her fumble with the delicate meshes, but both of them pause as she approaches. 

“Time to go,” she says, huffing out a breath, “boss wants you back. Same time next week?”

The last question, she directs at Viktor, who nods. Jinx stands without complaint, dropping the filter—and he hesitates before speaking up. 

“No. Keep it.” 

Questioningly, she reaches for it. He nods. “You know what to do, no? Finish it by next time. Consider it… homework.”

The delight on her face at the prospect is both startling and slightly gratifying. He tries to smile back. 

Sevika fishes about in one of her pockets before withdrawing another brown pouch, this one jingling musically. She tosses it to Viktor, who just barely manages to catch it, the weight bowing his arm down. 

“For you and your father,” she notes, and steps out without waiting for his response, escorting Jinx with a careful hand on her shoulder. Even as they leave through the front door, he stands immobilized, carefully considering the pouch. 

Singed is not a father, not in the way that Viktor’s ever thought of him, even though he can perhaps see the logic in calling him that. But no, he had a father, one who died upon the bridge, and Singed is simply a man who fed, sheltered, clothed him, though he cannot think of an equivalent word for that at the moment. It has always felt faintly transactional in nature—always, Viktor has had a job, no matter how trivial, that he does in exchange for this bit of care. 

First, it was caring for Rio, and then it was as an errand boy and lab assistant, spending long afternoons hunting down rats in the gutters or ferrying chemicals to Singed during his experiments. Then, as he began to build, to tinker, it became creating contraptions for the lab, and now it’s this work, bringing in enough money to buy things like food while the other member of the household is off experimenting in the cave. 

Which, speaking of, he’s still not back from. Viktor leaves the bag of coins upon his desk before returning to his room, beginning the work on the nine other filters he needs to make. At least Jinx will take the load of one off of his shoulders. 

—

It is not until late night that Singed stumbles back in, closing the door with a heavy thud. Late enough that Viktor is usually asleep, but he had work to do, and besides, he tries to stay up and wait for Singed if he can. Does not want a repeat of that night of the explosion, does not want to be sleeping while the man bleeds out in the next room over. 

Tonight, he’s unharmed, though tired—he sits down at the lab table with a heavy thump, arms ridgid on the desk. Viktor approaches quietly. 

“You remember Rio,” Singed says—a rare occurrence, him starting the conversation. He nods. 

“Of course.”

“How did you do it?” He asks, swiveling around to regard him, “help her with the Shimmer. How was it done?”

“I… don’t know,” he replies, thinking once again of the giant salamander. Always affectionate, even in her last days, curling around his legs as he slept so she could share his warmth. He’d wanted to bury her, after she died, but Singed insisted on dissection—a process he was normally accustomed to, but in this case, sat out. Viktor left the cave during the process, spent those hours as she was cut to pieces sitting by the river and stretching his leg in the cool water. “Did you not find anything? In her blood?”

“No,” he says, “I’ve attempted distillation, but it is a fraught process. Little has come of it. Cannot preserve it, either—the meat spoils. Not physically, but the Shimmer inside does not take to being extended.”

He winces at the thought. Too soon, still. 

“All the ones before,” he continues, “and all the ones after, the Shimmer changes irrevocably. It is some malady that runs molecule-deep. In small doses—” now, he indicates himself—“it heals, somewhat. But what I’m working on requires too much.”

“What are you working on?” 

“A vast project,” is the answer, more crumbs of knowledge yet. The next words rest heavy on Viktor’s tongue, the words that he doesn’t dare say—that of his daughter. He knows, obviously, from seeing the room and the coffin, from doing his own bits of illicit research. Coming across the name Doctor Reveck, catching glimpses of a girl in Singed’s scratched golden locket. 

And Singed knows that he knows, because how could he not—has alluded to the matter, dancing around the topic with all the grace of a spy. 

It is part of the reason that he has never considered Singed his father, he supposes—because the spot of the child is long-filled. 

So he doesn’t say it, and instead shrugs, an uncomfortable movement with the cane. 

“I do not know how I did. Rio simply… survived.”

And how different it would’ve been, if she hadn’t.

Singed lets out a long sigh, the most emotion that he allows himself to show, before standing from the chair. “Perhaps you are uniquely brilliant. I’ll find the key. You should rest.”

Hypocritical words from the man that Viktor’s sure will stay up the rest of the night, but that’s another effect of the Shimmer. Honestly, that facet of the drug, the ability to need so little sleep, is almost as tempting as the prospect of fixing his leg. 

“The money is on the table,” he says. Singed makes no move to grab it, instead striding over to one of the long rows of jars upon the wall, selecting one with a litter of baby rabbits floating within. With his other hand, he reaches for a loaf of bread that sprouts clumps of glowing pink mushrooms. 

“Goodnight,” Viktor adds.

This, finally, garners a response. 

“Sleep well, Viktor.”

He doubts he will, thinking of Rio as he is, but the sentiment is nice.

[irondiotallica]

Flare Up

I went a little ham with this one. Couldn't stop writing it seems, but here is a new blurb. It's def a little clunkier than the other one, but I like the idea of Steve becoming a physical therapist after everything and offering his services to the cute metalhead he's had a crush on since the upside down. Idk. Oh and fun fact, Times Square used to be the porn capital before the 1990s when Mayor Rudolph Giuliani shut it down to clean up the city. Anyway, enjoy the blurb! -Silas

[Steddie]

Eddie’s hip furiously blazed with a flash of stabbing pain. His joints had been bothering him underneath the scars left by the bats and their fucked up little teeth. The scarred flesh on his left hip was uncomfortably tight, pulled taut over his muscles and bones.

The damaged skin constricted his right shoulder, as though the skin would burst into a bleeding fissure with the tiny struggling breaths that Eddie was pushing through in labored waves. He was moments away from caving and taking a dosage of pills despite having agreed to take them less.

He felt as though his insides weren’t aware that he had been kept alive. It felt like his nerves had continued to decay turning into soaked cotton doused in kerosene with one little spark of discomfort able to render him incapacitated. 

Eddie shuffled to his phone with dread flooding through his system like an unprepared county during monsoon season. He knew that he had to call, but he was reluctant to do so. Even if he had been told it was no trouble, he knew it was more than it was worth.

He fidgeted, clenching his fingers around the coiled cord that connected the phone to the receiver. He dialed the numbers still imprinted in his brain from the day they had been hastily scribbled with a wolfish grin and intoxicating charm. The phone rang once, twice, three times, and Eddie began to put the phone back in its cradle when he heard a warm voice call out.

“Hello! This is Hawkins Physio Clinic, Dr. Harrington’s office. How may I help you?”

Eddie felt his face flush at the rush that hearing Steve’s voice gave him.

“Um H-hi,” Eddie coughed as he tried to clear the nervous lump from his throat,” Hey Steve.”

His words came out weak and nervous to his ears, he couldn’t imagine how it sounded to Steve.

Eddie could practically hear the grin that Steve was wearing through the phone.

“What can I do for you Eds,” Steve huffed out behind quiet chuckles.

Eddie tried to think before he spoke, but the words were flashing like the overwhelming neon signs that covered the porn capital of seemingly the world, Times Square. He continued to stumble through his words.

“Well, you said, uh,” his words were stubbornly refusing to come out of his mouth, thick with nerves,” you said if my joints were giving trouble, to call you.”

Eddie was not used to this. Asking for help was difficult and normally he wouldn’t ask, letting the issue fester, but he was dying. The pain was consistent and recurring. Somedays were good, but for the last week, he had mainly bad days filled with tears and laying on the floor praying for the pain to pass.

“I did say that. Are you finally taking me up on my offer? I’ve been told that I’ve got the magic touch.”

God, the cocky assurance in his voice was enough to make Eddie stand at attention in more ways than one, but another jolt of agony quickly snubbed that thought out.

“Fuck.”

It slipped past his lips before he could stop himself. His free hand gripped his thigh as he slid himself down to the ground waiting for the pain to pass. His breath was coming out short and a little frantic.

“Eddie, are you okay?”

Steve’s voice was warm and sweet like heated milk before bed as the cockiness dissipated, replaced with concern. Eddie wanted to answer, but the pain was crashing in waves and drowning him mercilessly. Still, he tries to answer.

“Ye-,” Eddie takes a deep breath in, feeling a few tears slip past his bottom eyelid,” Yeah, Steve. My nerves are just-”

Eddie breathes in again. He can’t stop the slew of pants leaving his lungs. 

“-misfiring. Just misfiring or whatever the fuck the doctor said,” he finally choked out, his voice tense and seizing with stress.

“I’ll be right there, okay? Just stay put.”

Eddie laughs at that although it comes out weak and soft.

“Where am I gonna go?”

“Oh shut up, you dork. You know what I mean.”

Eddie laughs a bit more before a groan leaves his lips at another jolt. He hears the click of disconnection and puts the phone down on the floor before laying on the tiles hoping for the chilly ceramic to ease the continuous, seizing torture. 

Eddie is still on the floor when a series of knocks echoes around him. Three rapid ones followed by four spaced out. Steve was here.

“It’s open,” Eddie calls out as he strains with tension.

Steve steps in and immediately heads to Eddie with graceful movements. Eddie looks at him through slitted eyes. Steve reaches down, pulling Eddie close, and murmuring sweet words to him. You’re so good, doing amazing, such a strong guy, so strong for me; flowing past his plush lips into Eddie’s ears.

A warm, secure, big hand grips Eddie’s hip as the palm presses down and drags his hip, resulting in a quick crack and Eddie feeling his joint loosen. Eddie pushed his face into Steve’s shoulder letting those hands massage his hip and the muscles surrounding it.

 God, Steve did have the magic touch, Eddie thought to himself with each warm bout of pressure. 

He let a sigh slip as those hands deviated to pop his shoulder before massaging the sore blades. He felt good, floaty in Steve’s care.

“There we go. Good job Eds. Always so good for me.”

Eddie feels his cheeks glow red as he tries not to think of the implications of those words. Eddie stays wrapped in Steve’s arms, comfortable.

“Thank you,” he stutters out with relief weighing his voice down.

Steve grins down at him with something akin to infatuation glimmering brightly in his gaze. Eddie couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at the pretty picture that Steve Harrington made. His warm brown eyes brimming with life. His little moles that were perfectly placed on his face as though planned. Those stupidly perfect, stupidly white teeth that Eddie had thought only possible in movies. Who could forget the hair? That stupidly styled mop of gorgeous mousy brown hair. Steve was stunning in Eddie’s eyes.

“If you really want to thank me, you could let me take you out this Saturday; see that new sequel to Alien?”

“You have the worst timing for things. Robin was right, you are a dingus,” Eddie teased, laughing at the way Steve looked away with a blush that went as far as the tips of his ears. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled out, squeezing Eddie just a little tighter. 

After Steve had finally collected himself, he looked at Eddie questioningly,” So? Are you letting me take you out?”

Eddie nodded with a grin, boyish and wide. 

Steve responded with a match grin and confirmation.

“It’s a date.”

[sweet-n-s4lty]

The Strawhat Crew vs. Ramadan (Muslim!reader)

✩.* My gift to the Muslims who acc get to fast on the first day of Ramadan (I’m so jelly omg ☹️)

✩.* Tags: Ramadan, Muslim reader, ig somewhat ignorance from the crew??

“Yum!” Luffy tore into plates and plates of food before you. Since boarding the ship, you’d definitely taken a more sisterly role with him, to the point he felt the need to share his beloved food with you. “Here! Try, s’really good.” He waved a piece of meat in your face, waiting for you to take a bite.

“Can’t, Lu,” You smiled awkwardly as you pushed his hand back towards his face. “Looks good though…”

Luffy’s head tilted to the side as he looked at you with pondering curiosity. “But Sanji made it just how you like.”

“I knowww,” you groaned, imagine how the meat was feel between your teeth. “But I’m fasting, I can’t eat until—“ you checked your watch. “In five hours.”

“Until in five hours?”

“Until in five hours.” You sighed. A heat emanated from the day that made you want to tear your hair out from under your headscarf. Staying inside wasn’t an option as you were scared of getting sea sick in this sudden humidity as well as the lack of ventilation.

Luffy stared at you as he chewed, pondering in awkward silence as he racked his brain on why on earth you had a limit for food. “Are you on those diet things?”

“Pardon?” You scoffed.

“Well Robin told me that sometimes girls can’t eat all the time so they can be thin, but you seem pretty thin, all your clothes are baggy on you.”

You laughed at his words before going back to dangling your feet from the side of the boat you and him were perched on. You didn’t think he was serious until you realised he wasn’t laughing. “Oh wait, you’re serious?” He nodded.

You sat there with him for a good long while, enjoying the bore of the seren blue whilst you explained. Ramadan was finally here after you’d finally made up your fasts a few days prior.

Luffy stared at you in, what you assumed, was awe. He couldn’t comprehend the idea of not eating for that long. He looked up at the sky and it seemed the sun had yet to set. Unfortunately, the warmer seasons let days drag on for what seemed like forever and he felt a little sorry for you.

He whipped his head around making sure nobody was looking before waving his snack in your face once more. “Here, eat, eat,” he used a hand to cover the side of his face, like a little kid sharing a secret. “I won’t tell your God, you can take some!”

At least he has the spirit, right?

“Pardon?”

“I said I can’t eat this, Sanji,” You blinked at the taller man after he ushered you to the table to eat. You had to admit you felt slightly impolite denying tea after skipping breakfast and lunch, but Ramadan had just started and you were more determined than ever to get through this month without any problems.

The past couple of days were already spent making a few up so you’d already gotten used to the feeling, the hunger pangs subsiding. “I’m fasting.”

His eyebrows furrowed together slightly in what, you feared was, hurt. “I’m not gonna force you to eat the food if you don't want it, y’know?”

You waved your hands in defence. “I’m being so serious right now.” You assured him as best as you could.

The claims for innocence were definitely heard as the two of you spent the next 30 minutes sitting in the kitchen with you explaining the concept of Ramadan in the most intricate detail you could.

“So you don’t eat for— what— 15 to 16 hours?” His voice was husky as he hummed deep in thought about it. You nodded, happy he was finally getting it. “But couldn’t you fill yourself up with water throughout the day?”

“Nope, no water either.”

“No water?” His eyebrows raised as he looked at you with near sympathy. “Surely it gets hard, no mon cheri?”

You put a finger to your chin and thought about the best answer to give. “I mean, you get used to it after the first day, and I’ve been doing it for a while now I’m used to it!”

Sanji had spent the rest of his day thinking of ways to make your iftar one to remember, with new found determination once you’d told him that this cycle would continue for a month straight.

He buzzed around you, making sure to take notes of what you wanted to eat and ignoring Luffy’s pouted requests of any meat dish.

“C’mon you can listen to Luffy,” you smiled as you chuckled at his frown. “Besides, anything you make will be sufficient.”

He sighed. “You sure?”

“100 percent

You sat with Robin in the shaded area of the deck. Your head rested on her lap as she read her book, her hand idly running across the top of your hijab. Robin was the big sister you never had. She was so smart and pretty (mashallah), you couldn’t help but look up to her and she relished in the fact she could and would protect you. She saw a little bit of herself in you, something she’d never let you get wind of.

“Say, what do you plan to eat for Iftar? I don’t think we have dates.” She hummed.

You blinked up at her, groggy and head spinning, disoriented due to the weird “nap” you were pulling in and out of. “Huh?”

“It is Ramadan today, no?”

“Yeah…” you rubbed your eyes and sat up. “Yeah! It is!” You smiled, almost as if you’d forgotten why you were so hungry.

She laughed at you before helping you up. “Well we can make a stop quickly at the next island and see if we can pick up some dates, hm?”

“Yes please!”

Robin made it her mission to try and formulate the perfect Iftar for you with the help of Sanji. She read what she had to read and jotted down every vitamin and mineral you should have for the perfect balance.

She observed your prayer, had you teach her a little Quran and by the end of the day, her head was steaming with information she was previously oblivious to.

She had the widest, cutest smile on her face during Iftar, in which the whole crew tried not to eat in front of you.

“Why do you look so chipper?” You chuckled, nudging her arm as she bit into a samosa.

“I love Ramadan.”

[changingplumbob]

York Household: Chapter 9, Part 10

In this part Kelly may be stood down from school for the day but that doesn't mean Aaron won't find them something to do.

CW: Mentions of body dysmorphic disorder and dysphoria

The Yorks are Italian so if you see them using words that don't look like English it's Italian, or what google assures me is Italian. Caro/Cara: Dear Buongiorno: Good morning Piccolo: Little one Tesoro: Treasure Nonno: Grandfather Nonna: Grandmother Si: Yes Grazie: Thank you Per Favore: Please Buon Compleanno: Happy Birthday

Kelly had asked Joey to speak to their family about her identity and, once Joey assured her it was fine, she joined the family for dinner.

Calista: Cara, I heard you got in a few fights today

Kelly was so used to being called caro, while cara was used for her sisters, that it took her a moment to realise her ma was addressing her.

Kelly: Si ma

Calista: Can we say the second fight may have had something to do with you being a girl?

Kelly: *sighs* Si ma. The dung brain said only girls needed to know about periods and stuff so I got mad and stomped on her foot

Deanna: I think that’s a sensible response even if you were a boy

Aaron: Deanna! Violence is never the answer

Joey: You say that like you don’t want us to get arrested

Aaron gave Joey a look that could melt steel.

Joey: Sorry pa, bad joke

Calista: I'll call your school and talk to them about separating kids by gender, in this day and age it's stupid. How about the first fight cara

Kelly: What do you mean

Calista: You were having trouble in English. Do you want us to get some help

Kelly: *sighs* That jerk was saying I had dyslexia but he doesn’t know what goes on in my head

Aaron: Still, it’s better to look into help now so you won’t be hindered at university

Deanna: Pa, she’s only just started high school

Aaron: Never too early to start thinking of the future

Aaron: But if you don’t want to talk about it tonight we can fit it in tomorrow

Kelly: What do you mean fit it in

Aaron: You don’t think I’m going to waste a day you’re not in school do you?

Kelly: I was kind of hoping to crash on the couch and play some games

Aaron steps up and pulls Kelly into a hug despite her protests.

Aaron: Cara, your ma and I love you. Very much. But a shift like the one you’ve started won’t be a simple one. We want you to get all the help available. I'm taking a vacation day and first stop tomorrow is a doctor who specialises in adolescents

Kelly smiles and tries her best not to tear up in front of her siblings, she has a reputation as an evil sim to maintain.

Calista: Are you okay Kelly

Kelly: Si ma. I just… wasn’t sure how you’d all take… me

Calista: Oh cara, like your pa said, we love you. We’re your family. We’re always going to be on your side

Kelly: Even if I kill someone

Calista: *laughs* Please try not to kill anyone *whispers* although I have a feeling that your pa would absolutely be your lawyer

Aaron: *laughs* Well don’t just go encouraging her to be a killer

After a hug with Calista Kelly lets out a celebratory cheer.

Deanna does not wake up feeling well. She gets dressed but can’t be bothered putting her contacts in today, glasses it is. She grabs some leftover cake and goes past Kelly and Aaron, barely taking them in.

Aaron: What’s wrong cara

Deanna: I have a horrible headache and feel like poop

Kelly: You mean you feel as bad on the inside as you look on the outside

Deanna: Probably

Kelly: No retaliation? *sighs* Just admit you don’t want me to have fun today

Deanna: You should be at school gremlin but you got in fights. Excuse me if I’m unimpressed

Kelly and Aaron head off while Deanna contemplates a nap rather than homework. What use are good grades if you’re dead?

Kelly: Why am I seeing him

Aaron: Harvey said his son had a good time

Kelly: Pa no one has a good time at medical appointments

Aaron: *sighs* maybe not but he said it helped him, how’s that?

Kelly: Guess it’ll do. So long as he doesn’t try to un evil me

Aaron: Tell him about the trouble you’ve had in class

Kelly: Si pa

Aaron: And tell him your family support you being trans because he’ll want to know

Kelly: Si pa. Think you can stop telling me what to do now?

Dr H: Kelly York?

Kelly: Yeah that’s me, this is my pa Aaron

Dr H: Nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Xander Hanks, the psychiatrist here. Will you be joining us Aaron?

Aaron: Kelly wanted to do this by herself if that’s okay

Dr H: Perfectly fine but I’d like to bring you in at the end to discuss next steps if that’s okay with Kelly

Kelly shrugs and walks herself into the office, choosing the couch that most faces the door. Dr Hanks sits down opposite her.

Dr H: Let me tell you a bit about myself. Following medical school I-

Kelly: Don’t care about you

Dr H: We can skip the pleasantries if you prefer

Kelly: You talk weird

Dr H: Why don’t you tell me why you’re here today

Kelly: *shrugs and kicks foot* They kicked me out of school for a day

Dr H: They? Why did “they” do that?

Kelly: The principal got batpoop mad because I punched one kid and stomped on the foot of another, but they had it coming

Dr H: Do you often have trouble with your temper Kelly

Kelly: I’m a teen. You're a professional, don't you know we have trouble with everything

Dr H: Anything you’d care to share

Kelly: Well ma and pa wanted me to come because…

Here she pauses. As hard as it was to tell Joey who loves her, telling a stranger is a harder task.

Dr H: Why don’t you tell me about why you got in the fights

Kelly sighs and tells him about Roger, the kid who teased her about her struggles in English class.

Dr H: Why did that upset you so much

Kelly: I don’t know. I can usually take a joke, I’m the first to make a joke after my friend Fergus. I guess… I was a bit worried he might be right. I survived middle school but now the words are longer and smaller and they can jam together sometimes in my head. But I’m not crazy!

Dr H: I wouldn’t call someone crazy Kelly. It is possible you have an undiagnosed learning disorder. I can send you to my colleague after this visit for an assessment if you’d like

Kelly shrugs noncommittally and Dr Hanks continues.

Dr H: What about the stomped foot incident

Kelly: I was trying to talk to my best friend Anya about what she learned in health because they separate the class boy girl style. I was curious, I mean I’ve only heard a bit, and this other girl took offense at me learning because I was a boy so she complained loudly then I stomped on her foot. That just made her scream more

Dr H: Was she unaware you’re trans

Kelly: *defensively* How’d you know that

Dr H: Forgive me if I’ve overstepped. Your father used the pronoun her when he ushered you in-

Kelly: I know this outfit doesn’t exactly scream natural girl but…

Dr H: And you said you were a boy when the disagreement happened

Kelly: Oh…. Right, I did… Sorry. I’ve only just come out to my family it’s still... difficult

Dr H: You have nothing to apologise for. I find the term “natural girl” to be unhelpful when talking about gender. If someone is the gender they were assigned at birth, they are cisgender. If they are not the gender they were assigned at birth, they are transgender. Have you heard that language before

Kelly: Here and there. I mean my friend’s older sibling is… oh shoot he did tell me the term…. Non something…

Dr H: Nonbinary?

Kelly: That’s it! So technically he, I mean they, are trans?

Dr H: *nods* You’ve got it. There are many ways to be female, just as there are many ways to be male, or both, or none. Was this why your parents wanted you to see me?

Kelly: Sort of. I mean I know I’m a girl but *sighs* I don’t know what to do about it. Transitioning just seems so big

Dr H: Maybe talking it out can make it a bit smaller huh

The two discuss the situation a bit more and when Kelly feels ready Dr Hanks retrieves Aaron from reception.

Dr H: Your daughter certainly knows her own mind. You must be proud

Aaron: I am. She can be a handful but I am

Kelly: Being stubborn has benefits okay pa

Aaron: I know

Dr H: After this I’m going to send you to my colleague who will do a learning assessment on Kelly. She may benefit from additional academic support. We have discussed possible next steps for her identity as well

Aaron: What are they

Kelly: Basically the government is stupid and science hates me

Aaron: I’m sure that’s not true

Dr H: There are scientific debates about at what age we can start on hormones and other physical interventions. At the moment the youngest age for medical transition is 16

Kelly: But he says I don’t have to do that if I don’t want to, any changes I make will be up to me. I say who I am, I'm in charge

Aaron is glad to see Kelly smile at this.

Dr H: There are many non-medical changes that can be made while she thinks about it. Kelly has already switched pronouns, she may want to change her name or her wardrobe. I’m going to refer her for therapy-

Kelly: He says I might get this thing called body dysmorphic disorder. Or anxiety, or depression or whatever

Dr H: Body dysmorphia can overlap with gender dysphoria so I like to make sure my trans patients have adequate support. I’ve prescribed some antidepressants which I think will be helpful as support during the transition period but I’d like to order some blood tests to make sure we don’t need to do any medical interventions yet

Aaron: What can me and her ma do

Dr H: Keep supporting her. She has expressed some anxiety about her personality traits. I would urge you and the rest of her family to remember her gender identity is not responsible for her personality or vice versa despite being a big part of who she is

Aaron: We can do that

The two get up to leave and Aaron is surprised when Kelly not only thanks the doctor but gives him a hug as well. Maybe her evil trait will be easier to balance with age.

Results of today’s medical appointments. Kelly has dyslexia and body dysmorphic disorder. Sorry it was a bit long, I didn't want to cut her off mid session.

Previous ... Next

[quinloki]

𝐵𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓎'𝓈 𝒮𝓅𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒮𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁!

This is my second costume contest entry for @swampstew's costume contest event \o/

Characters: Buggy the Clown Warnings: None Notes: This is Buggy's event?!? What's he doing trying to JOIN it??

Word count: 689

“Are you sure?” Buggy asks, disappearing into the costume you’re holding open for him. It’s one of those horse style costumes meant for two people. Not that this one looks like a horse.

“I’m positive.” You insist. “You wanted to enter the contest, you thief, and so you have to do it undercover.”

“There’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t participate.” He insists, moving around inside the costume with your help.

“Rules you wrote.” You point out. “No, not that way, put your left foot there, left hand here.”

“Why would I-?”

“Because you lift left and left and then right and right and it’ll look more natural for the costume.” You explain. “You’re holding up more parts by yourself than you’re used to with this, so don’t make it harder.”

“Hmph.” He grumbles, but does as you say. “What is this a costume of again? You said it was flashy.”

“It’s a mythological creature from one of the best stories of the winter season.” You answer, dodging the actual name of character on purpose.

“This is an Autumn event!” He nearly screeches.

“Ah stuff it, it’s an autumn event, but this is a flashy costume, and it suits you perfectly.” You insist, affixing a little reindeer tail to the backside of the costume. “Besides, you sprung this on me a little last minute, buster, you’re lucky I could pull anything together in the first place.”

You grumble the words from behind a row of pins in your mouth. Buggy looks over at you as you’re affixing the last few details into place. He smiles, even though you miss it, forever grateful that you put up with him so much. Putting the head piece on he settles into the costume a little better, but after a few minutes realizes there’s a small issues.

“(Y/N).”

“Yeah, Bugs?” You say to let him know you heard him.

“It’s really stuffy in here.”

“… Hard to breathe?”

“A bit.” He says. You smile, he’s trying to not make your job harder, and you appreciate that, but you’d not only hoped for this outcome, you’d bet on it.

“Lemme pop the nose off the head piece and you can put yours in its place.” You say, moving around to the front of the costume, taking the head piece as he hands it over. A seam ripper and a tug removes the little plastic black nose, and lets you quick stitch the fabric down before handing it back. “There.”

“… It’s not going to ruin the costume?” He questions. You look up at him and see he’s legitimately concerned. Poor guy, always so self-conscious of his nose.

“Not at all, Bugs. Gonna make it more accurate, honestly.” You say reassuringly. “This mythological creature very naturally, just like you, had a red nose.” You’d long since learned a way to mention his nose and its attributes without throwing him into a frenzy. Your voice took on a specific, almost professor-style tone, and it seemed to flip a switch in Buggy’s brain that assured him you were just stating a fact, and not picking on him.

“He’d been unfairly teased for his nose too, but managed to win over those around him and save the winter festival of the time.” You finish your explanation and give Buggy a smile. “Kind of like you and how you’ve won over your crew so much.”

Buggy’s eyes start to water, and you put your hands up. “Don’t cry! I don’t have time to clean tear stains out of the fur! You’ve got to be out on stage in twenty minutes at the most, keep it together for me, okay?”

Buggy sniffles hard, looking up for a moment and taking some deep breaths as he nods a little. You give him a couple minutes and he gives you a small “thanks” as you go back to working on the costume. You don’t have much time, but you’re going to make the best Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer that you can.

And as luck would have it, you didn’t have to go about finding a red nose for the costume.

[thesupefleur]

Another day another pointless PR meeting with a dozen numbskulls with zero personality or charisma. Fleur knew it was cheating (a bit) being able to glimpse inside people's minds and fish out their deepest desires but come on...these people wouldn't be able to sell water in a desert without her help.

Fleur wasn't sure how she was going to manage to muster up the energy to attend whatever event she was scheduled to attend tonight but she was going to have to. Almost every night there was another lavish party at a luxurious venue with pretentious people in opulent outfits....and she would be there to give her little smiles and do her little tricks...all for Vought.

She rolled her eyes to herself as she was about to pass by Ashley's office when the familiar mop of red hair popped out the door.

"Fleur! Fleur! Good to see you. Is everything going well with my marketing team?"

Ashley's tone is energetic. She sounds much more warm and caring in contrast with when she talks with her subordinates. "Can you come in and talk to me for a few minutes, Fleur?"

Fleur looks at her friend and smirks, "Depends, have you had your special morning tea yet?"

Ashley seems to answer before she has even listened to the question and opens the door for Fleur to step in. "Yes, yes, I've had my tea. Please come in. This is really important."

Ashley gets seated in her office and leans back on her seat. It feels intimate and welcoming despite it being an office. Ashley gestures for Fleur to sit on the chair across from her.

Already used to Ashley's nervous energy, Fleur takes a seat and crosses her legs, "So, what is it?"

"The PR guys told me you had an amazingly successful quarter. You have my congratulations."

Ashley nods as she speaks. She smiles but she doesn't seem exactly thrilled. Fleur can tell there is a but coming.

"Now this next part is a serious. Are you ready for it?"

Fleur's eyebrows furrow at Ashley's tone and behavior. "Go ahead, Ashley."

Ashley has a serious expression on her face before she speaks.

"Fleur, I know you aspire to be on The Seven. And to be honest, you have the power, popularity, and charisma to do so. The issue, however, is that the company just does not believe you could be an asset on the front lines. Your value right now lies in your charm and beauty - which is useful for marketing and branding." Ashley looks down at her papers. "Do you see our position, Fleur?"

Fleur bites her lip in frustration. "Well...couldn't I be put through some sort of combat training? Maybe with one of The Seven themselves? Black Noir?"

Ashley is a bit taken aback by Fleur's question. "Combat training? You want to fight crime, Fleur? Don't be ridiculous."

Ashley's tone is stern and she tilts her head to the side as she speaks. She looks at Fleur with a bit of disappointment. "Fleur, you and I both know that the way to advance through the ranks of Vought is to bring value to the company. Fighting crime is not your strong suit. Your image, however, is Vought's strong suit. And I plan to use it as such."

"Ashley....",Fleur is teetering on the edge of losing her patience. "I assure you, I can bring value to the company and to The Seven fighting crime. I'm resourceful. I may not be a blunderbuss but I can still dish it out."

Ashley looks at Fleur while her face shows a bit of disgust. The warm and charming façade she had when she was greeting Fleur is now gone.

"The only thing you will be dishing out are your looks in our brand endorsements and commercials, Fleur. Your looks are way too valuable to be going after common criminals like a dog chasing cars. And no one wants their superheroes using their brains. Heroes need to use their fists, not their minds. Do you understand, Fleur?"

Fleur scoffs and shakes her head at the woman across from her. "I don't think you want me to answer that, Ashley. You know I'm going to keep pursuing this. It's what I've always wanted."

Ashley rolls her eyes as she continues. Her facial expressions clearly show contempt and annoyance.

"Oh. Don't start with that again. You have no idea what it takes to be a real superhero, Fleur." Ashley speaks her name with distaste. "We will make you more important than any hero you can think of. What you want is to be famous, not to actually fight crime. And that we can do."

Ashley's voice grows quieter and almost a whisper. "You're not a supe like the others. You're just a pretty face."

Fleur's eyes grow wide at the insult from the one person she considered a genuine friend. For a moment, she feels tears beginning to well up in her eyes but she shakes them off and plasters on a fake smile, changing the subject. 

"Good talk, Ashley. If I remember correctly I have a charity event tonight?"

Ashley puts on a big smile at Fleur's attitude shift. Her demeanor quickly changes back to the kind Ashley from before.

"Oh, yes! The 'Helping Hands for Humanity' gala! I've heard that's a great event. And you'll look absolutely stunning when you're there."

Once more Ashley seems genuinely warm as she speaks to Fleur.

Fleur sighs and stands up. "Have wardrobe send the dress options to my penthouse. Am I expected to have a date or am I good to go solo?"

"Fleur, you always go solo to these things. That's the perfect image for you. The single girl who just simply has not found a boyfriend worthy of her charm and beauty."

Ashley smiles a genuine smile. "I am sure you'll make waves tonight."

"I always do." Fleur stands up with a frustated look. "Are we done?"

Ashley nods. "Yes. This was a good talk, Fleur. Now go be the star you are." Ashley's smile remains.

"...Right." Fleur presents another fake smile as she heads out the door.

Once Fleur leaves, the smile quickly leaves Ashley's face. She rolls her eyes and mutters to herself, "this is going to be a problem..."

[commanderdazzle]

Unordinary Type (Ch06)

Sometimes a life change comes about not as a sweeping whirlwind, but as a slow wave on the beach.

When you first meet Cee and Ezra, they look like they've just passed through a whirlwind themselves, but what will that end up meaning to you?

Post Movie Ezra x Fem!Reader.

(A/N; This chapter contains the idea that sparked this story in the first place, feeding Cee and Ezra a thick and chunky stew.

But one of my possibly controversial opinions is that I can't read x reader fics without a long as hell Meet-Cute. My brain literally cannot engage with established relationships, and I don't know why.

As usual, some sentences are wacky because Tumblr hates my paragraphs.)

Nearly two hours later, you were at Cee and Ezra's door, awkwardly kicking with your knee while you held a stew pot by both handles, a bag of bowls and utensils hanging from your wrist. You heard the chattering inside cease as someone walks to the door, then the beep of a key card unlocking before the door slid open to reveal Cee standing there. "Sorry if I'm intruding, but I couldn't help it, I had to bring something!" Cee smiles, probably the biggest one you've seen so far, and waves you in, saying, "we were just talking about how to get food that wasn't the slop at the public cafeterias." "Lucky me, huh?" You laughed, inwardly cringing at the idea that they haven't had a home-cooked meal in however long they were off-planet. "Lucky us, I'd say," Ezra added from his spot on the floor, jacket off and pack open. The appartment was exactly the same as yours, but entirely unfurnished.

The front door opened into a wide sitting area, with a kitchen along the back wall, an island dividing the two. Two doors on either side went into two equal sized rooms, and one of those rooms had a private bath, the apartments other bath being a door to the left of the kitchen area. It was a nice place, all things considered, and you could afford the rent, since being a nurse on a space station paid just enough for the landlord.

With that out of the way, your other essentials were covered by the teaching job. But what are they were doing to afford the same place? You think to yourself. Returning your attention to Ezra, you noticed him slipping something back into his pack, the contents of which were strewn across the floor. A few feet away, Cee had been doing the same to her pack, but she wasn't at all bothered by you seeing the things she had out. The two of them cleared a space for you to put the pot down on the floor, and as you removed the utensils from the bag, Ezra clears his throat. "You didn't have to go through the trouble," this time, when he says your name, something about his tone makes you feel warm. "Eh, I haven't eaten dinner yet anyway, it's no problem at all to cook for three," you assured him, them offered the first bowl you scooped to Cee. She took it gratefully, asking "what's in this?" as you handed the next to Ezra. You were glad you picked the deep bowls; it probably helped Ezra settle the bowl in the middle of his crossed legs, so he could hold the spoon with his free hand. Scooping a bowl for yourself, you answered, "carrots, celery, corn, peas, potatoes, and beef, in a beef broth, all allegedly the real thing, according to the market folks," you grinned. "Incredible," Ezra murmured, "far better than hospital or cafeteria fare." The both of them were clearly enjoying it, so much that they both asked if there was enough for more. "Can't let these precious ingredients go to waste," Ezra said, and you felt he meant it genuinely. "It's no problem, anything left over can be put in the chiller at my place," you try to assure him.

But he takes you by surprise when he fixes you with a stern expression. "You sure say that pretty often," he says quietly, and you don't move, even when Cee flicks her eyes between the two of you. He goes on, "do you have a 'problem' with anythin', or is it in your nature to be so compassionate you let yourself get walked over?" You flinch, even though you know he has a point. It's something you've struggled with all your life, the anxiety and social pressure, the need to be helpful and well-liked. Well, I guess there's one thing I really don't like... You're not sure if this really counts, but after a seconds hesitation, you answer, "I really hate that space station." Ezra's eyes widen, but he doesn't interrupt, "I hate the feeling being so far from solid ground gives me, it's only six months out of the year, but I feel like I'm suffocating the entire time." You aren't ready yet to share anything deeper than that, and you look Ezra right in the eyes, wildly hoping that he'll understand. In the overly bright light of the apartments default fixtures, his brown eyes take on a different tone, no longer dead and in pain like they seemed under the hospital lights. They're now filled with warmth, sparkling and alive, and you swallow a lump in your throat. He's looking into your eyes just as intently, and whatever he sees in them, he's smiling now, and you feel your cheeks warm again as he speaks up. "That's entirely fair," he finishes his second bowl before passing it back to you, "not everyone has to be space-worthy; after all, that's what us prospectors are for." The warmth you were feeling drains from you, the idea that he would go back out there fills you with dread instead, but you don't argue. He isn't mine to argue with about this, you think suddenly, but it still hurts, bringing back the same fear you felt whenever your father left on his excursions. One of which he never came back from. But still, would Ezra do that to Cee, if she decided she wasn't going back out there? If she wanted to settle, live in an actual home, would he stay? You remembered the day they arrived at the station, when Ezra was being carted off to surgery, and he had desperately asked you not to leave Cee alone in that stagnant white room. Was that enough to trust him?

You remember asking yourself the same thing, after he woke up from his surgery and your fears that they had been prospecting were confirmed. It feels terrible to judge him on just one thing, but I've known men like him. The clinking of a spoon in a bowl brought you out of your reverie as Cee handed hers to you, and you realized you had been thinking for far too long. Ezra apparently thought he knew what you were thinking, because his posture softened.

"Hey, don't turn your mind towards the station a moment more. You're down here now, this'll be good for ya," he said gently. You nodded, grateful for an excuse to shove your thoughts away. When Cee asked if you needed help carrying your things home, you let her hold the stew pot so you could carry the bag of utensils and unlock your front door. "Mighty grateful for the meal, aren't we?" Ezra prompted Cee, who nodded and said, "yeah, thank you!" "You're welcome, I'm glad you both enjoyed it," you replied, then you turned to wave at Ezra, "goodnight!" He returned your wave with a soft smile, and you wondered why that made you feel like cheering. Once safely in your appartment, Cee helped do the dishes while you stored what stew was left in your chiller. When the dishes were done, you noticed Cee looking around at your furniture.

Her eyes went from the couch that faced right when you entered from the front door, the glass coffee table in front of it, to the thickly carpeted floor. "Gathering ideas for your own place?" You asked her quietly. "Oh yeah," she grinned, then looked back at you, "if you're cool with it, would you come with us tomorrow, show us the best places to shop?" "Absolutely! I have to buy supplies for my students anyway, since I just finally received the list of what I need from the school," you groaned, lamenting the administration's lack of haste. "Okay, cool," she reached out a hand, and you shook on it, "uh, just as a reminder, don't ask Ezra about the money." Wondering briefly why she felt the need to tell you again, you nod your head and say, "understood." Smiling before saying goodnight, Cee heads down the hall to their door, and you watch her until she's inside safely before locking your own door. Sighing wistfully, you shut off the lights in the main room and pass through your bedroom, gathering your usual sleep clothes. Leaving them on the dresser beside the door to your private bath, you grab a towel from the top drawer. When the hot water of the shower hits you, you allow your mind to wander, tracing the path of the day through your memories. You weren't expecting the strangest of your patients to show up at your door, wearing matching clothes and smiling like nothing was wrong. You were already so fond of them, you could tell, but you just weren't sure whether getting attached was advisable. Just two nomads, a pair of vagabonds, you thought, not people to stay in one place, and even if Cee chooses to, what will Ezra do? You couldn't bear to think of it a moment more, so you forced your mind into silence. Finishing your wash, you shut off the water and dried with your towel until you felt clean enough to dress. Then you grabbed your current journal from the table next to your reading chair, and sat down heavily.

Sagging into the cushion, you began to record the events of the day, as usual when you relax before bed. You didn't note your true feelings on the matter, only the facts, but inside, you knew something was happening. What that something was, you had no clue, but you did know one thing.

This had everything to do with the strange realm of prospecting, and the people who went in and out of it at will. But can I will someone to stay who doesn't want to? You startled yourself with the thought and quickly finished writing your entry, so you could sleep the idea away.

[hoe4hotchner]

Old man problems

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Kissing, grumpy man Hotch and his sore body, they’re gonna do the frickle frackle in the lower half of the fic. I love cum and it’s described very deliciously in this fic.

Requested by @wheelsupkels​ -> Can you possibly write an imagine where Hotch pulls his back on a case, and the fem'reader offers to help him work it out in a friendly way because she was once a licensed massage therapist? Aaron of course is hesitant but gives in and allows it. But it gets heated

With your coffee in hand, you sat in the car, waiting for the jet to land. Aaron was coming back home today after what had sounded like one of the nastiest and most brutal cases he had ever seen. You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly their unsub did to his victims, but on the other hand, you really didn’t want to know.

You could hear the roaring sound of the jet engine passing over you, watching as the plane got lower and lower until the pilot touched it down on the runway. You knew it would still be a few minutes, at least, before they were let out and could go home.

The trunk clicked open and you heard the sound of a bag being thrown into it before it was shut again. Aaron was usually quick to get inside the car when you picked him up, eager to go home, and spent as much time with you as he could before the next case swept him away. Which was why you were kind of worried when more than a minute passed by and he still hadn’t gotten in yet.

When he finally pulled the door open, he entered the vehicle with an audibly low groan. He sounded annoyed, almost as if the case was getting on his nerves as if he weren’t able to put it behind him.

“Are you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask, almost refusing to drive back home before he had answered your question. Your voice sounded frail, shy even, it was not like you to be drawn back from conversations like that. And Hotch surely noticed.

He couldn’t help but profile you, even when he didn’t want to. It was a switch in his brain that he seemed to never be able to turn off when he wanted it to. It was a curse rather than a blessing.

“I’m fine.” He just grumbled, trying to assure you, to ease your nerves, but his attempt was to no avail. You wouldn’t let it rest.

“Clearly, you’re not. Tell me, Aaron. I want to help, at least if there’s something I can do about it.” You turned fully in your seat, facing him, wanting to see his face, the emotions he likely wouldn’t show.

“I’m fine, (Y/N). Honestly. I pulled my back taking down the unsub. And the landing was a little harder than expected, with turbulence and wind on the ground, whatever the pilot said.” He tried to explain. It felt like a boulder had been lifted from your chest, feeling like you could finally exhale and calm down.

“Why didn’t you just say. You know I can help you with that.” You were always willing to help not only him, but his friends too, even though you’d gone out of that line of work years ago. The technique was still there, and it surely wasn’t going anywhere any time soon if you had a say in the matter.

“I don’t want you to get hurt too. It would be wrong if me to exploit you for your skills, just to help me.”

“Aaron, it’s my injury, and I want to help you. Now, when we get home I want you to go take a nice hot shower, none of those cold nasty ones that you like so much. It’ll help loosen up your muscles and make this a lot easier and less painful for you.” You gave his thigh a few pats before starting the car and driving off.

“Okay.” He ended up agreeing, knowing that he would never get out of it in the end, you’d just end up pestering him about his pain until it eventually got too painful for him to handle and he’d have to ask you anyways.

Aaron did as you’d ordered him to and took a hot shower. He hated everything about it. His skin felt clammy and gross, he was sweating and the whole bathroom felt like he had just entered a rainforest. There was a reason why he stuck to short cold showers.

He placed himself face down on the bed like you’d instructed him to. Only he was wearing a t-shirt after explicitly having been told to only wear his boxers.

“Honey, no. Get that off.” You grinned, grabbing at the hem of the shirt and slowly starting to pull it up and off of him. Once you had the soft fabric in your hands you couldn’t help but make the very rational decision of changing your own shirt out for his worn, faded shirt from college. You loved how it fell on your frame, feeling like you were being engulfed in his arms.

You straddled his lower back, making sure to put as little pressure on it as possible.

“Do you always sit on your clients like this?” You could hear the smile in his voice, muffled by the pillow he had sunken his head into.

“Only the ones that I like.” You giggled, placing your hands on either side of his waist. Your thumbs instantly dug into his muscles, slowly rubbing calculated circles, the pressure getting harder and harder as you felt his muscles loosen up more and more with each circle.

You let your hands travel further up his back, repeating the movement, circle, harder, circle, harder until you were satisfied and felt that you could move on to the next spot.

When you found the problem area, you felt the tight cluster under your palm and as soon as you dug into it, kneading the tender area, Aaron groaned out in pain. You heard a few bubbles in his spine pop, wondering if he had ever cracked his back before since only more seemed to pop as you worked the knot.

It felt like an eternity had passed when you finished with the knot. Aaron had relaxed completely under you, his body lax against the sheets. You moved your hands to his shoulders, gently kneading the spots between his shoulder blades. Aaron hummed in pleasure, making sounds of approval as you continued the movements over his back.

“There you go. All done.” You rolled over on the bed, letting him get up from the spot. Aaron pushed himself against the headboard, sighing in relief as he felt all the pain leaving his body.

“Come here you.” He pulled you into his lap, pulling you close to his chest as he caged you in by his arms. “Thanks” He kissed you. Instinctively, your hands went to his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as you deepened the kiss.

Aaron’s tongue pushed past your lips, massaging your muscle. You moaned against his lips, his starting to roll against his crotch. You could feel his cock starting to stiffen against you, the bulge angled just right to tease you from your own movements.

Grabbing a hold of your hair he pulled you back, falling over until your head hit the sheets and he was on top. It was now his turn to roll against you.

“See what you do to me?” He grunted, feeling his balls tighten at the thought of your tight core swallowing him. Aaron took your hands and moved them over your head, holding you in place and rendering you immobile. He loved having you like this, all under his control and at his mercy. God, you were a precious thing.

He teased you for a bit longer, getting to hear your desperate whimpers as you begged him to fuck you. It was like a symphony in his ears. You always sounded so sweet while begging.

Aaron positioned your bodies right side up on the bed, your head resting on the pillow he only moments ago had grunted into. With skillful hands, he started undressing you, removing first his shirt from your frame, then your bra, letting your tits escape their prison and present themselves to him as your nipples hardened from the air, brushing over them and the pure lust you were feeling towards him.

He almost couldn’t take it anymore as he yanked your shorts down, pulling your panties with him.

“So darn pretty.” He moaned against your skin, trailing kisses from your hips to your lips. You whined against him, wanting more than what he was giving. You always wanted more, and he always gave it to you.

Aaron stripped himself from his boxers, his cock bouncing up against his stomach. His size always surprised you, always made you believe that you couldn’t take him, even though you’d taken him so many times before.

His tip was red angry and leaking with precum. Salty, delicious cum. His cum. You loved the taste of him, almost wanting to tackle him to the bed and wrap your lips around him, sure to gag as you tried to take all of him, even though you couldn’t, not yet.

Aaron positioned his spongy head against your cunt, slowly pushing in and stretching you out. It felt amazing. The way he filled you up always felt amazing. You fit together like two pieces of a puzzle-like you truly were made for each other.

You moaned out in pleasure as he bottomed out. Feeling his heavy weight inside of you. You wrapped yourself around his body as he started thrusting. Slow, yet hard strokes that send astronomical sparks of pleasure through your nerves. Your nails dug into his skin, sure to leave red marks in the morning.

You could already feel the coil in your belly start to tighten, feeling him brush against your spot with every single calculated thrust. You almost couldn’t help it as you screamed out his name, followed by violent bucks of your hips against his. He knew just how to work you to make you feel the most pleasure.

Aaron soon followed suit, coating your fluttering walls with white ropes of gooey cum. He pulled out of you, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness. Aaron gathered you in his arms, holding you close and pressing featherlight kisses to your cheeks.

“You did so good.” He praised, watching your eyes light up at his words. “Thanks for helping out with my back.”

“I hope you didn’t pull it again.” You smiled, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. “My grumpy old man.” You mumbled against his skin, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you closed your eyes, ready for the nap you both were about to have before it was time for a shower with your grumpy man.

[kyberphilosopher]

Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

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

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

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

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

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

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

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

 * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

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

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

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

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

“Shut the hell up.”)

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

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

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

And then...

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

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

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the bias is the whole point.”

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

“You talked to Connor about this?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans. 

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

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

You snap your drawer shut. 

What’s wrong with you today? 

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

“Doctor L/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When?” you question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s just-”

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

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

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

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

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

A man, as usual. 

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

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

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

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

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

“The kid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yep. Thanks, Hank. 

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

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

“You coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly. 

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

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

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

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What would you prefer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, thank you.”

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

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

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

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

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

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

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

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doctor L/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have... drool on your lips.”

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

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

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

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

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

That night, it rains. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes. 

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea. 

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators. 

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him. 

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy. 

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does. 

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying. 

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead. 

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second. 

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.