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zombierocker17 · 5 years ago

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Forever, Harry Styles imagine. (Long)

Here it is. It took me two days to write this. And I hope everyone has got there tissues this is incredibly romantic. Please enjoy ❤️

You were at your shared home relaxing after a long hard week, it was a cold winter morning. You felt the soft cream colored crochet blanket that Anne, Harry’s mother had made for you last Christmas. Mouse yours and Harry’s cat came to sit next to you, Harry named her mouse because when she ‘meows’ she sounds like a little mouse. She nestled her small head into your arm, you pet her head and scratched behind her ears. Looking at your phone background of Harry you smiled. It was a picture of him sitting on the set of SNL smiling like the goofball he is. Mouse meowed when she saw the picture, “I miss him too sweetie” you say petting her as you get up and head to the kitchen.

Harry was off working on stuff for his second album, he was very busy and often wasn’t home for weeks. He was supposed to be home in a week, you understood his busy schedule. You turned on the kettle to make some tea, prepping things for tea. You realized you actually pulled out two mugs and spoons as you normally would when making tea for you and Harry. You wiped a small tear away putting the other mug and spoon away again. You poured the steamy water into your mug with your preferred tea, and walked back into the living room. Sitting on the couch again with Mouse finding her way back to your side purring. You sipped on your warm tea feeling it warm you up.

You ended up falling asleep on the couch for a few hours, waking up to the sound of your laptop beeping at you. It was a Skype call. ‘Sweet creature is requesting a video call’. You sat up and answered the call to see Harry in his car smiling at you. “Hey Babe” he said adjusting the laptop on the dashboard of his car. He looked beautiful, the light on his face was pale and bright. He had his nails painted black and his favourite black sunglasses on his head. Hair tousled around the frames, light stubble on his jaw and upper lip, which you found absolutely attractive on him. He smiled at you admiring him through the screen. "Hello??? Y/n? Anyone home? " He said chuckling as you hadn't answered him yet .

You shook your head focusing on the conversation now. “Yes, I’m here sorry, got a little distracted. How are things going babe?” you say. He chuckles knowing his effect on you “Things are going amazing actually.” Harry says scratching his jaw. Mouse hears his voice and meows, you show her Harry on the computer. “Look who misses you babes” you say, “Hi Mousey” he says using her nickname she meows. You giggle positioning the computer again so he can see you he smiles, “I miss my girls, I-“he gets cut off by his phone ringing “One sec babe” he says answering it. He’s on the phone for about a minute before hanging up the phone. “I’m really sorry babe I have to go do something” he says with a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay , I’ll see you later this week, I’m going to probably order some pizza then watch a movie with Mousey then go to bed” you say a little upset but trying not to show it. “Alright I love you, bye” he says ending the call.

You hadn't seen Harry in a month, you missed him so much. You missed the way he would pull you closer to cuddle in bed, resting his head in your shoulder. You missed his scent a light mint and vanilla smell, was his favourite cologne. You would spray it on your favourite sweater which was actually Harry's but he didn't mind you wearing it. You missed the way he would make you laugh. When he's gone the house felt empty, no laughter, no romance, no Harry. You loved him so much. Thinking about him was all you did.

You sat there in that thought for about 20 minutes, until the doorbell rang. You thought ‘did I already order the pizza?’ Pulling out your wallet you walked to the door, digging in your wallet for cash you opened the door without looking. Then you looked up and saw Harry there in a dark grey sparkly Gucci suit with a black dress shirt, the first few buttons undone showing the edges of his chest tattoos. He was a holding a bouquet of light pink and coral roses, and a large black box. Smiling at you “Surprise Y\N”. You almost fainted seeing him, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, also wrapping your legs around his waist kissing him. “I thought you were going to be back next week? “ You asked tearing up a bit. “Change of plans, things got done a lot faster than I thought. So I get to come home.” He says. “Oh Harry I missed you so much” You say hugging him tight. He puts you down and walks into the house, He hands you the box and sets the roses on the table. “Go put that on we have reservations for dinner” he said pushing you upstairs to the bedroom, he walks downstairs to put the roses into some water.

You open the box, it’s a dress. A dark grey long dress, the same color as his suit. It has a sweetheart neckline with small black gemstones across the top. You quickly styled your hair into a sweet up do with little hairs hanging out. Light amount of makeup, and some black strappy heels. You admired yourself in the mirror, the dress hugged all of your curves before flaring out below the knee. It made you feel like a goddess.

You walked down the stairs to see Harry’s back facing you, kneeled down petting Mouse. She meows looking at you, Harry turns to see you before saying. “For the first time in my life I know the difference between pretty and beautiful” you blush and he leads you outside towards a black sparkly limo. Harry greets the driver "Hello Altman ", "Hello Mr.Styles, and hello to your lovely lady" the driver says shaking your hand. He opens the limo door helping you in. Harry joins you in the limo after telling the driver where to go.

After driving for a while the limo stops in front of a small looking building, it had slate stone walls and large windows, it looked dark inside with very little light. Altman opens the door helping you out with Harry behind you. The restaurant had the name on a sign near the doors, the sign said Buried Beneath. Harry held the door open for you as you walked in like the gentleman he is. The entry room was small you wonderd how this was a resturant . Walking to the small check in table there was a tall very thin man with thin rimmed black glasses. "Welcome to Buried Beneath, what is your code word? " the man asked. You were confused, Harry simply said "Eroda ". The man nodded typing into the tablet " Mr.Styles?" Harry nodded " Right this way" the man lead you two down a short hallway to some stairs going down. Harry helped you down the stairs until you entered an area. A short thin woman around maybe 40 years old leads you two into the dining area.

The dining area was dark with beautiful high ceilings and red lights, dark furniture and decorations. It was a bit overwhelming, Harry saw that you were a bit nervous so he put an arm around your waist comforting you. You could smell the familiar cologne on him, you relaxed as the woman brought you to your table it was in the back of the room a more private section. Harry pulled out your chair letting you sit before he did. A waiter came for your drink orders, Harry orders a bottle of their house wine for you to share. You shared a platter of seafood and salads. (Or whatever you like to eat) Everything tasted incredible, the wine was rich in flavor. Harry was telling you about what he was working on for his new album. About the word Eroda and what it meant, he told you there was a song to go with it and that it was going to be released in a few days for the fans.

After the meal was finished Harry paid the bill with a very generous tip, he also purchased 3 bottles of the red wine. He really enjoyed it. You left the restaurant Harry helped you into to limo again. It was dark out now with thousands of stars in the sky, it gave you butterflies in your stomach. You returned home and Harry led you to he bathroom helping you out of your dress placing it on the dresser along with your shoes. He started to run a bath with candles burning and bubble bath. You stood naked in front of him, he admired your figure tracing your collarbones tracing up to your jaw. Lifting your chin to kiss him, it was a long passionate kiss.

Harry then stripped naked and climbed into the large steamy bath with You laying on his chest. You traced your fingers under the water against his lower abdomen vines tattoos. He chuckles " I adore you Y/N" he says "what?" You say as Harry grabs a small remote. He pushes on of the buttons at the small stereo speaker you had in the bathroom. A soft pop beat comes out a song you've never heard before.

Harry starts singing :

Walk in your rainbow paradise

Strawberry lipstick state of mind

I get so lost inside your eyes

Would you believe it?

You don't have to say you love me

You don't have to say nothing

You don't have to say you're mine

Honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Oh honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

You look as his lips as he sings, like an angel the words effortlessly pour out of mouth. Every now and again he would gently give your side's a squeeze. He truly loved you through and through, and you knew it. When he finished singing, he wiped a small tear from your face. "What do you think?" He asks blushing. You got up so you were now straddling him " Harry that was beautiful, the fans will love It, I love you Harry " your about to kiss him when he stops you. He reaches out of the bath into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small ring box and places it on the ledge of the bath.

" Y/N , we've been together for 4 years and I've loved every minute of it. Your incredibly important to me. Your beauty is undeniable, your personality is flawless. Every time I look at you my heart beats faster. I can't explain your love, it's better than words. And if you love me as much as I love you I hope you will say yes." He opens the box to show a decent sized diamond engagement ring. " Y/N would your marry Me?" He asks holding the box in front of you "Yes I will Harry!" You say as he pulls you in for an even more passionate kiss than before.

You spend the evening cuddled on the couch with Mouse in your lap, underneath the cream crochet blanket. Harry by your side from now till forever.

This was fun. Let me know if you enjoyed it! ❤️-Briana

#1d #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles #one direction imagines #imagine #imagines #one direction #romantic

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littlemessyjessi · 5 years ago

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“Carnivore”: A Dracula Story: Plus Size Reader: Chapter 2

BBC/ Netflix Dracula Imagine

Warning: Mentions of cannibalism, violence kink and taxidermy. Just a warning. Enjoy.

I had never been what I would call a morning person.

Unless by morning you meant 12 a.m.

If you meant being active when everyone else was asleep in bed then yeah, sure- I was a morning person.

But when the birds started to chirp and the people began to busy about... I. Was. Out.

Which was exactly why I was so extremely grateful to my butcher who stayed open to the wonderfully spry hour of eleven at night.

Bless his soul.

Joe was honestly a saint at times and I had no problem giving him my business.

I always peeled some off the top of our kills to bring home to my meat freezers but for my main diet...I needed a butcher and that was just that.

I arrived there at precisely 9 pm and I was greeted with a smile as I came through the door.

"Ah, my favorite creature of the night!" came the rather chipper voice of Joe.

I glanced up at him, "Evening, Joe."

"I have your usual ready." he said. "It's just in the back."

"Sounds wonderful." I said dragging the large rolling cooler I'd brought with me to the front and wheeling it over to him.

"You're the only woman I know who actually comes in here with an ice chest. Weekly. Sometimes twice a week." he teased.

"Yeah, well, I'm a special breed." I said taking out the cash and handing it to him.

It was always the same and I paid him in cash...with a good tip.

Say what you will but tipping well made all the difference with people.

"I have some exotic game for you as well." I said. "It's in there before you fill it up."

"Keep your money then." he said with a smile. "We'll call it a deal."

"Joe." I said with a pointed look. "I bring you my business because I want to and I bring the exotic meat because A.) I know you can appreciate such a thing and B.) I adore the service. So please don't insult me and just accept the gift and keep the money. Besides, last I heard you had a new baby on the way."

"For a vampire, you're awfully nice." he winked.

"What makes you think I'm a vampire?" I asked lifting a brow at him in question.

He just winked, "Oh, that's right it's werewolves that consume human flesh."

I stared at him and for a moment I had a mild panic attack.

Did he know?

How did he know?

He burst into laughter a second laughter, "I'm only joking! Or was a spot on about your extracurricular activites?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"According to Marcus, you seemed to have quite the fondness for biting." he said speaking of a mutual friend that I may or may not have toyed with a few times.

Purely sexual of course.

Although, the man was a fine specimen and should I ever choose to murder him...he would make excellent steaks amongst other things.

"And how would you know such things?" I asked.

"He and Dylan are close." he said with a knowing smirk.

"Yes, well perhaps you and your husband should stay out of my 'extracurriculars' as you call them." I said, half joking, half dead serious.

Though in truth, Joe never took anything I said like that to heart.

I was what he like to call "Dangerously Adorable".

I abhored the term but it was endearing affectionate in a way, I suppose.

"Just fetch my meat, butcher boy." I said. "Before I decided to eat you."

"Ooooh, kinky." he teased. "I could probably convince Dylan to threeway. Neither of us have been with a woman in a long time."

I threw my pen at him to make him move and the sound of his laughter could be heard as he ventured into the back.

Moments later he emerged with my cooler and a basket on top.

"What's this?" I asked lifting a brow at the little brown thing. "Do I look like Little Red Riding Hood to you?"

"Yes sometimes you do give me that vibe." he laughed. "But in that basket are two special things for you. One is a considerable amount of duck eggs and a jar of duck fat. They're from my mother. She really appreciated the package you sent her when she was sick. I know you like to pretend you a cold heartless-"

"Stop talking, you'll ruin my reputation." I said with an unconvincing glare.

"Anyway, she wanted to say thank you." he said.

I made quick work of bidding him goodbye and got out of there.

He was one of the humans that I could tolerate being around for more than a little while...even if he was insufferable at times.

As I walked the streets with the basket on my arm and the cooler rolling behind me I thought of how conflicted I was with the nightlife of the city.

On the one hand, the convenience of having some establishments staying open all hours of the night was incredibly useful.

On the other, it usually meant conversation and I just had no patience for it sometimes.

Which is why it's so ironically cruel that the universe would put me in the path of someone who loved company.

"Hey, what's up, mami?"

I cut my eyes to the left to glare at the little heathen who looked me up and down.

Probably no older than twenty five.

A little younger than I would've liked and not really my type but attractive enough for me to toy with and end my boredom.

And certainly enough to make a meal out of it.

But was he awful enough to eat?

Was he some punk who just like to catcall?

As disgusting as it was .... did he have other motives?

"Darling, there you are!" entered a new, richly accented voice that I was unaccustomed to. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I turned in time to see a man who was every BIT my type.

Older and classically handsome.

Like an old Hollywood movie star.

Tall and strong with years of aged muscle.

Not the roid rage muscles that the youth were so fascinated with today.

I likened that to the sensation of chewing tire threads.

No...this man...

This man was nothing short of delectable.

And damn him for being a knight in shining armor.

I so would have enjoyed feasting on his flesh.

"Hello, Darling..." I said slowly as he came closer to me and wrapped me in his embraced.

He unusually cool to the touch, not that I minded since I absolutely detested the sensation of being hot and sweaty.

He offered the young man a 'friendly' smile that seemed to say 'back off' behind the mask of politeness and the kid ran off.

"Thank you..." I said pulling away from the man. "That was very kind of you."

"No problem." he said. "I fear the boy might not have had the purest plans for you in mind."

"And you would know this how?" I asked curiously.

"Because I have been a young man near a beautiful woman before." he smirked.

"So lust justifies rape to you then?" I countered.

"No." he said. "But it can cloud the mind and produce a level of stupidity. He might not have attempted to force himself upon you but he definitely would've touched without your permission."

"As you did when you took me in your arms?" I asked pointedly.

"That's different." he laughed a bit, seemingly shocked by the cheek of it all.

"How? Because you chose to play the Knight in Shining Armor?" I challenged. "Perhaps I was playing Little Red and I was looking for a Big Bad Wolf to eat me up after all."

"Well you would fit the bill. A tantalizing tart with a basket and all." he said, a slight air of irritation oozing from him beneath the mask of charm. "I'm sorry if I have offended you. I only meant-."

"I'm not offended." I cut him off. "I'm just a massive bitch and not much of a people person."

His handsome face pulled up into a grin and he laughed heartily.

"You are a refreshing creature aren't you?" he said.

"You have no idea." I said. "Good night, sir."

"Dracula." he said extending his hand.

I lifted an eyebrow at him momentarily before leaning forward and whispering my name into his ear before placing a small kiss to his cheek.

"Good night, Dracula." I said. "Now I must be off before the Big Bad Wolf comes back."

"Perhaps it's the wolf that chased the young pup away." he challenged.

I smirked, "Well, then, Mr. Wolf. If you're clever and hungry enough, you shouldn't have a problem tracking me down then."

I realized that those words were dangerous.

They were provacative and even luring to a stalker.

He could've easily been a psychopath.

But what did I care?

I could either have some fun with him and if he bid me harm....I'd simply have him for breakfast in the morning.

----------------

Hello, darlings!

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@pleasantdreamqueen @becrazy–beyou

@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts

@therealmrshale @woodworthti666 @thegreatirene@fanfictionandjunk

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@sullybot @georgiagrl1990 @whenallsaidanddone

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Love, Kenny

#dracula #bbc dracula #netflix dracula #dracula x ps reader #dracula x plus size reader #ps reader #plus size reader

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noroger · 5 years ago

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Take good care of my baby

Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: Roger looses his girl to another man.

Based off the song ‘take good care of my baby’ by bobby vee.

My tears are fallin'

'Cause you've taken her away

And though it really hurts me so

There's somethin' that I've got to say

Roger remembered the day when you had confessed to him that you had adopted feelings for another man whilst he was on tour.

His heart shattered and he couldn’t form any words, he never thought he would be the one on the other end of the relationship who was heart broken.

“Im sorry Roger but ive fallen for another man” you had whispered as tears dropped from your eyes.

He sat there for a moment and took it all in, his heart thumped in his chest and he became numb.

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes that matched yours and he could see your guilt and sorrow.

He nodded as softly choked out an ‘okay’ as he stood up from your shared couch and walked outside to have a smoke, his hands shook as he tried to light the end.

Roger never thought this day would happen, he thought you were the one for him, but for some reason he wasn’t angry at the other man or you, he was angry at himself.

He spent so much time away from home even when it was unnecessary. Tour was necessary, the studio was necessary but the partying everynight wasnt at all.

The hardest part for Roger was that none of this was your fault, you didn’t cheat on Roger and you didn’t kiss the other man whilst with him. You explained everything to Roger and he understood because Roger lacked showing you love physically and emotionally.

Take good care of my baby

Please don't ever make her blue

Just tell her that you love her

Make sure you're thinkin' of her

In everything you say and do

What drove you away from Roger was his interaction with other women, he didn’t think of you when he flirted with them or offered them a drink at the bar because he only thought of what he wanted in that moment.

You hadn’t told Roger who the man was, he didn’t really want to know either because he knew he would compare himself.

Roger wanted this man to keep you happy and never make you upset with the small arguments, always just to work things out peacefully.

He hoped he could do the things Roger never could do for you because you deserved the world.

He wanted this man to show you how much he loved you every minute of the day either physically or emotionally, small gifts and romantic gestures.

He remembered the time your face lit up when he would buy you a bouquet of your favourite flowers or your favourite box of chocolates.

“These are wonderful!, thank you so much” you would gush with a smile on your face as you kissed Roger so passionately.

He loved to see your beautiful smile, the way your eyes would light up with joy, it made his heart flutter against his chest as he grinned back at you.

Oh, take good care of my baby

Now don't you ever make her cry

Just let your love surround her

Paint a rainbow all around her

Don't let her see a cloudy sky

One time Roger came home to you sleeping on the couch in one of his shirts, the collar was still wet from your sadden tears.

His heart broke because he knew that it was because of him, he forgot your anniversary.

He forgot and went out drinking with the boys after the studio and that was also when he talked up another girl.

His eyes drifted to the kitchen where the soft sound of the radio was playing and he found his feet gliding him to it. His heart broke even more when he saw the beautiful set up in the kitchen you had for him.

Although there sat two burned out candles, both plates sat full of Rogers favourite meal that was most likely cold by now. Your favourite wine bottle sat empty on the counter and he noticed his favourite whiskey you had purchased beside it.

He went back to your side at the couch and stroked a fallen piece of hair that was in your face back behind your ear. You stirred a little as you felt his warm touch.

Your sore eyes from crying met with his which startled you a little.

“Love, i’m so sorry” Roger whispered, his breath smelled strongly of alcohol and a small pink lipstick stain was on his neck.

You let out a small smile at him as you told him that it was okay, you ignored the stain because you didn’t want it to be true.

Roger lied, told you that he was hung up in the studio. It hurt your heart to know that he could lie so harshly but you loved him so you went with it.

To this day Roger knew that you knew he lied and he hated himself for it.

Once upon a time

That little girl was mine

If I'd been true

I know she'd never be with you

He wished he could go back in time and change how much he had distanced himself from you.

It had been four months since you left Roger, four months since you went to live with another man, four months where Roger went back to his boyish ways of one night stands with groupies.

He wished you had yelled at him when he stayed out late or when he lied to you because then maybe it would have knocked some sense into him. Maybe him change his ways and give him a warning that if he didn’t start acting like he was in a relationship then you’d be gone.

He should’ve noticed it for himself, he should’ve loved you properly because you didn’t deserve how much he hurt you.

He fucked up royaly but why didn’t he feel angry at the other man for taking his girl? or why did he not feel angry at you for not staying true to him? it was because he knew he wasn’t good for you, he knew you wouldn’t have fallen for someone else if they weren’t treating you good.

So, take good care of my baby

Be just as kind as you can be

And if you should discover

That you don't really love her

Just send my baby back home to me

Rogers heart felt heavy as he stepped inside the small local coffee shop you loved.

He went to walk over to the table you guys would always occupy in the corner but he noticed someone sitting there already and he sighed as he searched for another table.

He hoped that the man had made a mistake by believing that he was in love with Rogers girl, maybe he was punishing Roger for being such a shit boyfriend to you.

Maybe he was just dreaming, a terrible nightmare that he wanted to wake up from but he knew that it was reality and it haunted him every day since you left him.

Roger had remembered the day he met you, it was at some shitty science museum that Brian had dragged them along to as they went sightseeing.

Your face at awe as you looked at the exhibitions which made Roger chuckle a little because he found it both adorable and amusing.

Your excited smile made his heart flutter as he glanced at you from time to time, silently thanking you for going the same way as them, but you didn’t notice Roger until he got bored and started to cause a scene.

“Roger!” Brian hissed at the blonde as he picked up a fragil display rocketship.

You giggled at the sight of the two man fighting over the small object, the hush of your giggle alerting Roger, making his eyes flick over to your and his actions hult.

Brian sighed in relief to see the blondes attention on something else so he could place the object back in its place safely.

You and Roger held eye contact and you sent him a shy wave with a smile as you were dragged alone by your friends.

Roger felt him self following after you, like he was drifting in a spell. His band mates scoffing at his actions, thinking that he just fancied another girl he’d seen and wanted a shag.

As he followed you stood facing a solar system display as your friends were at the other side of the room, he threw his hand in his pockets and stood beside you.

“Interesting huh?” Roger spoke up which startled you.

You let out a little huff and held your hand to your heart which made Roger chuckle and apologise for scaring you.

“You must be a star” he spoke up from beside you again as you both faced the display.

“Huh?” you questioned as you turned to face him, a puzzled look on your features.

“Well the light around you guided me here” he tired to smirk but laughed at how adorable your face was when you understood and laughed at his cheesy pick up line.

“You didn’t just use a space pick up line in a space museum” you laughed with a tut.

Well, take good care of my baby

Be just as kind as you can be

And if you should discover

That you don't really love her

Just send my baby back home to me

Rogers breath hitched as he heard the same laugh in the small shop which knocked him from his day dreaming stage.

He followed the sound and noticed you.

You had joined the man who sat at the same table you and Roger would.

It must be the man you left him for.

You looked beautiful, you always looked beautiful. You laughed at something the unknown man to Roger had said and it made Rogers heart shatter a little and a tear started to prick his eyes.

He shakily let out a breath as he brought the coffee cup up to his lips as he tried not to look over at the table again.

He couldn’t help it, he had to look again and when he did he caught your eyes and you sent him a soft smile.

He immediately diverted his eyes somewhere else, feeling embarrassed that he had been caught looking at you, for being caught showing his face again in that cafe that you loved.

He looked up again quickly as he noticed you get up and so did the man who’s back faced him as he dug through his wallet to receive the cash to pay for your drinks, even fished out a generous amount of coins to leave as a tip for the sweet old woman who owned the cafe.

Oh, take good care of my baby

Well, take good care of my baby

His world collapsed around him as he made eye contact with the man who had taken his girl from him.

He knew this man very well, not personality but from the media.

As he looked at the man the only thing that ran through his mind as they made eye contact was ‘Just take good care of my baby’

He sent a little nod to the man and he returned it.

Almost as if they were sending peace to each other.

The last tear that Roger would ever shed for you fell as you walked out of the coffee shop with your new lover. Roger accepted the fact he couldn’t go back, that you were no longer his girl.

Roger Taylor maybe have been the love of your life once but George Harrison was your soulmate.

#queen x reader #queen imagines #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x reader #brian may x reader #george harrison imagine #george harrison x reader #the beatles x reader

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thirium-delirium · 6 years ago

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hello again! as already mentioned: your stories are reallyreally great 😍👍 and ooooh I'm so happy you're taking x-Reader requests! I'd be very excited if you could write a Connor x Reader story where the reader is rather sceptic about androids. he/she doesn't like that they become more humanoid and is especially annoyed of Connor. but at some point Connor does something that turnes the readers opinion around and he/she falls in love with him

combination of these two requests. COFFEE SHOP AU.

6.5k words.

In the chaos of the morning rush, you hadn’t noticed him come in. Hadn’t spotted the tell-tale luminescent blue accents on his CyberLife-issued jacket as you pinballed between the register and the service counter and the three drip machines against the wall under the chalkboard menu.

You place an espresso and a whipped-cream doused latte on the counter, calling out the orders over the din.

“Espresso for Melissa, latte with whipped cream and three pumps of vanilla for Xiong!”

Don’t wait to see them get snatched up before you’re on to the next customers, maintaining the precarious, hectic rhythm of brewing, counting out change, and serving.

Greeting every customer with a smile is a challenge. Your feet hurt already, there’s no chance of a break in sight. You’d opened at 6am, and you’re the only one here right now, three hours later. The only staff the owner of Has-Bean can afford.

Still, it’s a job. A decently-paying job, and there’s a set of Detroiters who make it a point to support human-owned and -run businesses. You have regulars who greet you by name, ask how things are going, drop a dollar in the tip jar even though for some of them a cup of coffee is, itself, a luxury.

You grab some empty cups that people have bussed to the counter, toss them in the sink where dirty dishes have already piled high, reassuring yourself that the crowds will die down enough within half an hour that you can make a getaway to the restroom.

“Good morning.”

You hear a pleasant voice from behind you, and turn, wiping your hands on the rag tucked in the front pocket of your apron. “Hi, welcome—“

Android. Your throat tightens. He’s tall, brown haired. ‘RK800’ is emblazoned on the right breast of his jacket; a model you don’t recognize, though you can’t bring yourself to study him closely. There’s no rule against him being in here, of course. Not anymore. “What can I get you?” You ask tersely, unable to muster your usual warmth.

“One large black coffee, please.”

“Name?”

“My name is Connor.”

“For here or to-go?”

“To-go, please.”

You ring it up, resolutely not making eye contact. There’s no point anyway. People come here for the human touch, the android-free atmosphere.

How’s he even going to pay? Androids don’t carry cash, they pay by linking wirelessly with other androids. “That’ll be four fifty including the city fee for the disposable cup and lid.” Here it comes, he’ll have to ask, don’t you accept link transfers, and you’ll get the petty satisfaction of telling him no—

“This should cover it.” He places a crisp five dollar bill on the counter, which you take, punch in the amount on the antique cash register, count out his change. Fifty cents back, and you note with absent interest that one of the two quarters you slide to him on the counter is rare, and old—an eagle on it instead of the newer designs.

“Thank you,” he says, but you turn away, busy fixing his order, and moving on to the line that’s accumulated while he slowed you down.

Even so, making brief, comfortable conversation with Julie, a regular, you watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“Bizarre, aren’t they?” Julie remarks in an undertone. “Now that they’re more human?”

You nod, starting her drink, which you know by heart, before taking her cash and giving back the appropriate change. “First one I’ve ever gotten in here, even after the referendum. He’s alone, too.”

He thanks you again when you put the large black coffee out for him; you only raise your eyes when he takes it and turns to go. The crowd parts for him, and you glimpse him in profile: handsome, impeccably neat, and pleasantly mild, though there’s a keenness to him. As he makes his way out the door, you get the impression that not very much escapes his notice.

“It’s gotta be a one-off.”

“Some wealthy asshole was in the area, wanted coffee, and sent his android to get it for him.”

Your regulars offer their opinions one-by-one, and you listen, nodding impassively, until it devolves to an argument among several about whether there are any androids left who willingly serve people since the deviant uprising. Then you tune out, the rush dies down, you finally tackle the overfull sink, hoping that the strange, polite android had just been a one-time thing.

He was cute. The thought pops in your mind, as unwelcome as his unexpected appearance had been. You shove it away, along with the lingering unease that androids always bring.

Later, at the end of your shift, you take the contents of the tip jar. Owner’s policy, for which you’re always grateful, because if there’s enough you get to eat two meals a day instead of one. You count out all of it: a five and nine ones. Enough for something cheap. A handful of coins, too, and as you pile the quarters in stacks of four, you note, with a strange jolt of curiosity, the rare eagle. Rare enough that it must be the same one you’d handed as change earlier to that android.

You keep it. Not one to hang on to spare change, but it takes up residence in your left hand jacket pocket, and doesn’t get spent.

He returns the next day, same time, same outfit, same order, same cash amount.

Who the hell is giving him money for this? Any decent person would know not to send their android on an errand in a place like this.

Same perfected air of calm in the face of general disdain. As human as he’s supposed to look, he stands out in the crowd, his carefully-designed idiosyncrasies making him somehow more irritating.

In the usual rush, you forget to watch the tip jar, and instead get distracted when he orders, because he tilts his head and gives you a small smile when you remember his name—

“Connor, right?”

“Correct.”

“What can I get you?” You’re not trying to be accommodating, and certainly not friendly. “Same as yesterday?”

“Yes, please.”

But he acts as if you are. Unfailingly polite, and you think—can’t be sure, but you think— he’s left all the change again as a tip.

And again, the day after. Looking at him still makes you uncomfortable, and you don’t even bother with the strained smile you give human customers you don’t like. Probably doesn’t matter. Androids don’t care about niceties. And you suspect he keeps tipping you anyway, though you haven’t caught him at it yet.

All through the week, Monday through Saturday, he keeps coming back. Always neatly dressed, even though Friday morning brings a thunderstorm.

Rain always has a way of thinning the typical morning crowd. During the lull, you lean against the back counter, trying to ignore

your gurgling stomach, and focus on the soothing grey of the downpour outside. It’s nearly empty in here, only a couple tables occupied. The quiet allows you to hear when the bell jingles.

It’s the android again. Right on time. And apparently not one to use an umbrella. Water streams off his hair, down his face, his grey jacket and jeans and boots. He doesn’t seem to notice, and you reject the instinct to offer him a towel, although he is tracking water in, and you’ll be the one who has to mop that up later.

You meet him at the counter.

“Good morning.”

“Is it?” You look away, already starting to ring up and prepare one large black coffee. At his odd silence, you glance back up, and find him staring at you.

“Yes, I think it is. Although, my programming isn’t meant to distinguish between good and bad. Only evaluate outcomes, and select subsequent responses. But– ” his expression softens with genuine curiosity, “—I really only meant to wish you a good morning. Is that not a thing humans say anymore?”

You really shouldn’t be noticing his hair right now. The fact that it’s shiny with water, dark and silky looking, and he has that one lock that falls to the left, which you’d really like to reach out and comb back in place for him—

“Are you alright?” He tilts his head, and you get the sense you’re being scanned.

“Fine,” you snip at him, and for some reason you’re blushing. He’s staring at you too intensely, that’s why. NOT for any other reason. “This is what you want, right? Your usual?” You’d never dare be this rude with a human customer. It feels wrong, somehow, with him too. Unfair, and are you REALLY worrying about hurting an android’s feelings? But you can’t help yourself.

“Please,” he inclines his head. “And I’m sorry for getting the floor wet.”

Wanting an excuse to stay even slightly irritated at him, you ignore the apology and fix his drink. Throughout the week, you’ve wondered who it’s for. What, and who, exactly, he is. Asking wouldn’t be out of line, you make small talk with customers all the time. The one thing humans have left to be better at than androids.

Too late. His order doesn’t take long enough to make, and you hand him the paper cup. Maybe you should suggest that he bring in his own reusable mug, like most of your customers do, save a few bucks. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, miss…” his gaze drops below your eye level, to your chest. He stares longer than necessary, zoning out.

You cross your arms reflexively, like he’s any other creepy customer who feels entitled to check you out, though that’s not really the vibe you get from him. More like he’s scanning you, again. Still. RUDE.

“Hey!” You snap at him. “What are you doing?”

He blinks rapidly, brought out of his reverie. “I was looking for your name badge. My programming directs me to address all humans by name, if I know of one, and failing that, a title. I couldn’t find either one for you.”

You frown at him. “Aren’t I in the National Citizens Database?”

“Most likely, yes. But I’m not authorized to access it for any reason unrelated to my job.”

“Job?”

“I’m a prototype,” he tells you earnestly. “A detective assigned to assist the Detroit Police Department.”

That’s a jarring thing to hear. You have a handful of regular customers from the DPD. Most are uniformed beat cops, though several are plainclothes detectives. Some are kinder than others, though the idea that any of them might be edged out of a salaried job by an android is upsetting.

How can a machine know the measure of pain, and despair, and humiliation– all the hurt that comes with not being good enough to earn a living?

Even if he is an android, it’s very hard to snark at someone who’s so polite. You resort to staring at him right back. His eyes are brown and warm, his expression open. The corner of his mouth twitches up in an almost-smile and in that moment you swear to yourself– swear it-- that you won’t get some stupid crush on him, because he’s weird and unwelcome, and an android for crying out loud.

But you feel your heart beat faster. Curiosity shocks you, like a hand shooting out to grab your wrist and pull you off course. What does he want?

What does he dream of? Why, after the android uprising, is he still an errand boy for the people who probably shot at his friends?

How does he see the world?

What can he know?

“Is everything alright?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. His voice is as warm as the rest of his demeanor, calm and un-intrusive.

“Yeah. I’m– everything’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding like he actually means it. “I have to go.” He inclines his head.

He takes the coffee and leaves, and you notice, for the first time, how he moves. Precise and efficient. Nothing wasted.

You wonder if you might see him again, if only to have your questions answered.

On Sunday afternoon, the end of your week, you wait restlessly for the android.

My name is Connor. You hear his pleasant, even voice in your head, picture the peculiar ways he moves, and how he enters the cafe. Scans from left to right, cataloguing everything, and then fixates on—

You.

He doesn’t show up.

“Have you had any androids come in as customers recently?” You ask Jamie, your replacement, at shift changeover.

He looks at you expectantly, as if you’ve just given him the set up for a joke.

You match his expression. “I’m not kidding.”

“Uh… no. No I haven’t. Kinda figured they knew not to come in here. Could be a deviancy thing?”

“Could be,” you allow, though you’re hazy about how android deviancy actually works. No number of explainer articles in Century magazine had succeeded in making sense of it, and several months after the uprising, news pundits debate the issue ad nauseum on TV.

“I did have a dude on red ice try to swipe the tip jar.”

“No shit. Me too! Really short, skinny, with like, a gross, scraggly goatee?”

“That’s the one—“ Jamie interrupts himself to help a customer who approaches the counter.

“You haven’t seen Hank recently, have you?” You wait to ask until Jamie’s done with the order, and you have one foot out the door, with your apron folded over your arm.

“Who?’

“You know, the cop. Grey beard, usually cranky, smells like whiskey?”

Jamie shrugs. “Don’t think so. Can’t say I remember him.”

You adjust your bag strap over your shoulder, and, by way of farewell, remind him to give away the stale pastries by the time he closes. Anyone who had met Hank would remember him, you think. For better or worse, he makes an impression.

Same with that android, or maybe that’s just you. The half hour bus ride home gives you plenty of (unwelcome) time to contemplate your growing fascination with your newest regular customer. You thumb the quarter in your pocket the whole way, shoulder to shoulder with androids and people since public transport had been desegregated.

It occurs to you that some of the people might actually be androids. They aren’t required to self-identify anymore, not by clothing or any other way.

The usual aversion you feel towards them is muted today. Connor is on your mind instead. He’s so straightforward, he tips the scale back to enigmatic. Every time he had come in, another question had piled on, and now all you can think about is the little quirk of a smile he’d bestowed on you, and how soft his lips might be on yours, and if he’d kiss you back.

“Hey Hank!”

He grunts.

“Having a good morning?”

He grunts again, lifts his chin and glares at you. You beam at him, already starting on his usual order: large caramel drizzle cappuccino with extra whipped cream and a sprinkle of chocolate shavings.

There is something deeply satisfying about meeting his eternal crankiness with persistent cheer, especially on a Sunday morning like this.

You’ve tried with other grumpy customers, but it just isn’t the same. He’s not looking very good today, but then he rarely does. A web of broken capillaries covers his sunken cheeks and blunt, rectangular nose. Eyes are bloodshot, grizzled hair coarse and unkempt. His clothes are rumpled. You can smell the whiskey lingering on him, he’s been drinking for so long it’s in his pores.

Hank has a way of timing his coffee runs such that he avoids the crowds, and you comment on this to him, as you often do. He shrugs, gives his typical response, which is that he can only deal with so much bullshit this early in the day.

You hum in agreement, and ponder bringing up the unusual android customer you’ve dealt with for the past week. Hank’s always up for a good round of complaining, though you vaguely recall him mentioning something about an android at work. He seems like he’s changed over the past few months, though you’re not sure how that all fits together. But he has been smoothed around the edges. He smiles a bit more easily.

“How’re things at the precinct?’ You ask instead. “Any cool cases? Anything juicy?”

You turn back to him in time to see him put the whole ten dollar bill in the tip jar for you, instead of paying at all. You’d only stopped thanking him for doing that when he’d threatened to arrest you for ‘being too nice, it’s suspicious’.

“Same shit different day. Assholes trying to get away with stuff they know they shouldn’t be doing.”

“Did I tell you someone tried to grab the tip jar and run?”

Hank does not look surprised. “Nope. Might wanna think about bolting that thing down.”

“Maybe.” You drizzle in three times the called-for amount of caramel, and extra pinches of chocolate shavings. Sometimes you suspect Hank keeps coming back to you not for the preferential treatment, but because you had laughed in his face the first AND second times he’d placed such a ridiculous order.

“Was it a junkie? Or just some desperate kid?”

“Red ice. Sooooo… both?” You hand him the drink. If you didn’t luck into this job, that desperate kid could very well be you.

Hank grumbles his thanks, but sounds defeated.

“You gonna make it today?” You ask him lightly, wondering how bad his hangover is.

“Eh” He takes a hearty slug of the coffee, leaving whipped cream on his mustache. “I’ll be fine.” He makes to leave, then remembers one last thing.

“Oh, by the way. Precinct’s standing up a new task force. Anti-android hate crimes are getting out of hand—“

You know what’s coming next, and start shaking your head before he’s finished. “Hank, I’m not—“

“Just listen! Hear me out. Six month internship, and at the end, the possibility of transitioning to a full time position.”

The idea of it is enticing, and just out of reach. Too painful to hope for. And so you decline, again, with the reasons you’ve given him before. Can’t afford to take an unpaid, full time position. Can’t afford to quit your jobs and then not be able to get them back in half a year when you aren’t selected to join the force.

It’s your eight day working in a row, though you don’t mention this. You’d needed to request an extra shift, having come up almost a hundred dollars short on rent. Your life feels unmoored. Drifting, and precarious. You must simply make do, can’t hope for much more than that. Have to depend on the generosity of people who can’t really afford to be generous.

“Look.” He comes back to the counter to grab a few napkins and wipe his mustache. “Take some time, think it over. Could use someone like you.”

Weeks go by. Connor becomes a fixture of most of your mornings. Hank comes by less often, about every other Sunday. Every time you try to persuade him to bring his own mug—you know he has one, because he bought the café-branded one at your urging—he grouses and reminds you of the internship.

Someone like you. The words come to mind every time you look up from the register and see Connor step forward. Sometimes he’s doing tricks with a quarter. Snapping it from hand to hand, or spinning it edgewise and making it hop from one fingertip to the next. It’s his way of zoning out, you suppose, or entertaining himself (his screensaver, maybe?), but he always stops when he speaks to you.

Would the station even want you, when they had him? You can make coffee. He can do coin tricks and probably a hell of a lot more, and all better than you.

“Good morning. The usual, please.” He seems to enjoy saying that.

You’ve already started on it, and the next few drinks for some of your regulars you see behind him. “You got it.” And through the familiar routine of taking his cash, giving change, and the sleight of hand he performs to tip you without you catching him in the act. “Do you ever make coffee at work, Connor?”

The rare attempt at small talk doesn’t faze him. “No. A detective who resented my presence on the force demanded that I make him a cup of coffee. I refused, and he became upset.”

It occurs to you, with a sudden pang of shame, that you’d asked assuming Connor didn’t have a choice. You can’t imagine yourself doing anything other than hover in the breakroom and make coffee for whoever wanders in. That’s probably not what Hank has in mind.

You bustle around the little kitchen, with several drinks going at once, but not in any particular hurry to dismiss Connor. You still haven’t asked him why he comes to buy coffee most days, and he hasn’t volunteered the information. “What happened then?” You look over in time to see an odd expression cross his face, though you can’t quite place what it is, and it reminds you, again, that despite everything, he’s not human.

“He punched me in the abdomen.”

“What?”

“And then he left without getting any coffee.”

“Wait, go back to the part about him punching you, that’s crazy—“

He doesn’t get a chance to answer; a loud, shrill ‘excuse me!’ issues from somewhere further back in the line. You tip your head to peer around Connor, and see a young man—maybe younger than you— wave his arm in the air, as if you’re too dense to notice him otherwise.

“What’s the holdup!”

You don’t recognize him, he’s not a regular. He has a small dog on a leash, a cellphone pressed to his cheek.

“That expression of ‘excuse me’ didn’t sound polite,” Connor observes, more to you than anything else. He steps aside, and you keep the line moving, accepting payment and passing the appropriate drinks to regulars, who mostly disperse, out the door, a few to tables.

The man on the phone is next, carrying on half a conversation there, and half with you. There’s nothing that gets you riled faster than customers like this; you do your best smile (more of a grimace) and ask him for his order.

He pauses just long enough to sneer something about vanilla soy, and gives Connor, who’s hovering in front of the pastry display, a look of revulsion.

Connor tilts his head serenely, not oblivious, but unconcerned. Only observing. Something twists in you.

“Name?” You prompt, since the guy resumes yelling into his phone again.

Typical. You’ve noticed that it’s mostly the younger customers who are obnoxious, entitled assholes. Older people remember life before androids, and many, you’ve surmised, at one point had to work a service job just like the one you’re doing now. That’s a rarity these days. Those who didn’t suffer it end up like him.

“Name?” You ask again, and he apologizes to the person on the phone before sniping at you.

You hold your tongue, turn to start on the vanilla soy latte. Still haven’t given Connor his order, but he seems to have gone into standby mode or something, zoning out at the asshole on the phone, who’s starting complaining loudly about slow service, prices, laziness, and then you hear—

“fuckin androids, there’s one staring at me right now, it’s creeping me out.”

–and that twisting wrenches too far, and snaps.

You trash the drink without adding toppings, go back to the register, and ask him to leave. He’s causing a scene.

From there, the exchange goes pretty much as you’d expect. Indignation. Outrage. Insults at you and Connor and androids. Avowal to never frequent Has-Bean again.

Blood roars in your ears. Fine with you. Attitudes like his aren’t welcome here, you inform him, your patience hanging by a thread, reinforced only by Connor’s unflappable composure. He can apologize or leave.

Wrong thing to say. You weather the barrage of abuse until finally the guy storms out in a fit of apoplexy, yanking his dog’s leash.

The door slams shut, bell jingling. The whole place has cleared out. You look back at Connor, awkward and apologetic. There’s a slight furrow between his eyebrows, which you misinterpret.

“Sorry,” you begin. “Sorry you had to… see that.”

“I’m fine,” he says evenly. “I—I’m concerned about that man’s dog.”

“What? Oh.”

“It showed signs of distress, and abuse. There were contusions around its neck and snout.”

“it was a real dog?” You ask, before you catch how rude that sounds. As if it matters. As if androids aren’t real. As if Connor, and his feelings, aren’t real. Come on, get your head straight. You hand him his large black coffee to cover your embarrassment.

“Yes,” he replies. Unusually distant, until he accepts the cup, his fingers brush yours, and the attraction to him you’ve repressed surges anew.

How strange, that he seems to smile with his eyes, or maybe you’re just imagining it. “Thank you.”

Suddenly you need to stop him. You need him to stay, and you come around the counter. It’s strange, and new, to stand with nothing between you; you ruin the moment by wiping your cheek. “I think that guy got spit on me when he was yelling.”

He says nothing, listening patiently, until he determines you’re done.

“I should go. I apologize for any disturbance I may have caused.”

“Connor, wait. I have to ask, why do you keep coming back here?”

“I like it here,” Connor says, after a moment of consideration. “It’s cozy.” He conveys this with a kind of earnest conviction, which initially puts you off. Androids aren’t supposed to have a concept of what’s comfortable and what’s not. A pleasant, quiet space isn’t supposed to evoke anything in them.

You clear your throat. He’s quite tall. He’d have to bend down to kiss you. “What’s, um… what parts are cozy? What do you like about it?”

He looks around. You note the LED on his temple, spinning from blue to yellow. Processing…

“The ceiling. It’s a molded pattern, 17.5 feet high. Constructed early 20th century. It was a house first, then this first floor was a ballet studio. The floors are original, you can see over by that wall, the unusual wear on the floor boards. There probably used to be a bar where the dancers practiced.”

You turn to look over your shoulder where he’s pointing, but don’t see it. He sets the coffee down on the counter, puts his hands on your shoulder and spins you around.

All at once, he’s very close. Maddeningly close, and he still has one hand on your shoulder, the other pointing out details of the architecture and design you’d never noticed before.

The windows are oriented north-west, allowing an optimal amount of natural light throughout all times of day.

And the smell of coffee, but ignore that, and you can sense more, can’t you? The wood polish and warm, worn leather, and the musty doilies the owner won’t allow anyone to throw away.

The views across the street are nice: a flower shop, a pet store, an art gallery. Here inside is the perfect refuge to watch the minutiae of other people’s lives play out, though he phrases it as ‘gathering data’.

You hadn’t thought of it that way. Had never sat at the table he indicates, the one by the window, but now you can imagine sitting at it across from him, and you want nothing more than know what it feels like to hold his hand. To know him deeply, and for that quiet, familiar intimacy to become your language of ‘are you okay’, a keeper of secret things and shared smiles.

“Huh.” Is all you can say, after you turn to face him again.

He watches you, too perceptive, his LED still yellow.

The strength of your affection catches you short of breath—how shallow you must seem to him! How transparent, and uncertain, swinging from one extreme to another. At the mercy of emotions, so unpredictable they leave you twisting in the wind.

Your heart beats wildly, filling your chest with a fluttery excitement. You swallow thickly, “That’s, uh, nice, very informative. But I meant why do you keep getting coffee? You don’t drink coffee, do you? Is that a thing. Do androids drink coffee now? I’ve never heard of them drinking it, I thought they—you—I thought you didn’t need food…”

Connor waits for you to run out of breath and stop talking before politely replying. “No. I get coffee for my partner at the police precinct. I like doing favors for him. He’s my best friend. Plus he needs it. He drinks too much, so he’s usually hungover.”

You watch Connor with the sort of sinking feeling of an unrequited, inevitable crush. The lightness of infatuation in conflict with that weight, which addles your mind enough that what he just said doesn’t register immediately.

Hungover. No, it couldn’t be… And besides, the drink orders are polar opposites, and the idea of Hank having a best friend is absurd.

“I really should get going,” Connor reminds you, before adding, “you appear flushed. Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you say, though you’re not. You turn away to retrieve his coffee, and behind your back hear the clink of coins in the tip jar. One of these days, you’ll catch him at it. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” He accepts it, and inhales its scent; curiosity flickers across his features.

“Connor?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you could teach me those coin tricks sometime?”

“Alright. But I have to warn you, my biosystems and programming make it look easier than it actually is. For humans. Any android could do it.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone besides you do it before.”

He shrugs, a totally natural gesture, accompanied by a disarming smile. “They could if they wanted.”

“Huh,” Hank grunts at you. “Maybe you really aren’t cut out for police work. Took you long enough to put it together…”

Upon seeing Hank again, on a Sunday when he clearly did not want to be anywhere except drinking more, you had questioned him about work, and the internship, and most importantly, any androids working at the station.

You’d tried your best to hide your pique of interest in the connection, at the fact that an android considers this cranky asshole his best friend. You have to wonder if Hank feels the same, but as he endures your questions, you conclude that he does– that he loves Connor like a son.

“Well?” Hank asks. “Was that enough to convince you?”

You sigh, doing the math in your head. “Could you really swing it so I could live in the new recruit housing?”

“The barracks, yeah. Probably. Wouldn’t be the easiest living situation if you aren’t used to it.”

You take out the quarter that has inhabited various pockets of your clothing for the past few months. The prospect of possibly working with Connor in the most enticing aspect of this whole thing; as you fidget with the coin you again try to dismiss your pathetic infatuation and focus on practical matters.

Even with free housing for the six months, you’d have to find a way to afford food, and there’s no guarantee of a paying job at the end of it. Would be safer just to stay here. Making coffee. Forever.

“Where’d you get that?”

“This?” You hand it to him “Tip jar.”

He turns it over, grumbling, but you can tell it’s his ‘this is interesting’ grumble, and not his ‘I hate everything and everyone’ grumble. At last he gives it back. “Be glad you didn’t spend it. That thing’s worth a bit.”

“Really!?” excitement makes you knock over a cup of milk you were steaming. “Shit.”

As you clean up, Hank answers the question he knows you’re yearning to ask. “Fifteen thousand. Maybe more, depending on the date.”

A horrible thought intrudes suddenly; you imagine one, out of all the times you’d been turning the quarter over in your pocket, had you dropped it somehow, watched in roll away, fall in a storm drain. You pat the pocket where you’d just put it away, then zip the pocket closed.

“I’m no collector,” he assures you. “Stupidest way to waste money I can think of.”

To be sure, you personally can’t imagine have fifteen grand to spend on ANOTHER piece of money. People are weird. Then again, you have a crush on an android.

“You should take it to an appraiser. See how much you can actually get for it.” He lifts his chin like a challenge. “…unless you feel like keeping it.” Which only an idiot would do, is the clear subtext there. You shake your head. Plans are already forming in your mind, nebulous visions of a future, which somehow includes a scene of you and Connor strolling in a park, hand in hand.

You sigh, and shake your head to dismiss that image. “You said the barracks aren’t easy? What’s it like?”

Hank almost smiles. He must know he’s got you, and he motions to a table. “You have a few minutes?”

The countdown to your last day brings rising trepidation and doubt. What if you’re making the wrong decision? You’re giving up a steady income, as well as fixed rent that you know you’ll be able to afford for at least a couple more years.

The longer you wait, the harder it becomes to approach Connor with an apology. But he deserves one. It’s not just for your own peace of mind. How could you ever have hated him? Your memory of how you treated him is painful to admit to yourself, you’ll have to confront it soon.

Yet you put it off. Wait one day, because you see him and he smiles at you and you don’t want to mess it up.

And another day, one bright quiet morning, when he holds up a quarter between his index and middle finger and asks, “ready?” In the empty shop (lack of customers not a good sign, perhaps it’s for the best that you’ll be moving on soon) he stands behind you, hands on your forearms, speaking low and steady in your ear.

Relax, you’re tense, it’s all in the wrist. He sounds so human, you could be forgiven for mistaking him for anything other than a machine, but then he observes your precise heart rate, and the spike in dopamine, and he finally reminds you that humans need to breathe.

Of course. How silly of you. Forgetting to breathe. Inhale, exhale, and all that. While he’s hovering there at your back, appropriately spaced and you’d rather he NOT be. You’d rather he press himself against you, make you feel the ridge of his erection, if androids even have urges like that. Probably not, but that doesn’t stop you from getting distracted, nor does it weaken the potency of your arousal, because fuck he’s right behind you and it’s too easy to fantasize about dragging him into the back room and showing him how you’d like him to kiss your neck as he fucks you.

One day, a second day, a third, and fourth day in a row, he comes in, orders, then sits down and reads.

He carries a book with him. What was the outdated term you’d heard Hank use?

Oh yeah— hipster.

An android reading. Such a simple act of enjoyment; it shouldn’t be a shocking sight, but regular customers keep shooting him unpleasant looks. Finally, after the rush has died down, you work up the nerve to slide into the seat across from him.

“Good morning.” He looks up from A History of Jazz in the American Midwest: the 1940’s.

Last day, you realize with a start. Last chance, before you’re sort-of colleagues with him. You’d practiced variations of a most eloquent speech in your head, every bus ride to and from work.

“Connor, I owe you an apology,” it would begin. “I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. I was unwelcoming and bigoted and it was wrong of me to act like that. I’m sorry.”

He’s staring at you expectantly, and in the aftermath of this conversation, nothing about the way you parse the details can account for what your mouth decides to do in defiance of logic.

“I’m an idiot with a crush on you.” You blurt it out and then freeze.

He tilts his head, bewildered. Clearly doesn’t know how to process this kind of thing, and the LED on his right temple spins from blue to yellow. When he speaks, he’s halting. “My algorithms can’t give me a precedent on how to respond to that—I’m…” He pauses again, searching vast databanks and not finding the right words. Any other time it would be reassuring. One of the most advanced prototypes ever made, rendered uncertain by human weirdness.

You wait in wrenching silence, brace yourself for a rejection that doesn’t come. He shuts his book without marking the page.

Then, he reaches up to brush a strand of your hair out of your eyes, and gives you a kind smile. His fingers trail from your hair to your cheek, caressing the skin. Your breath hitches.

Up close, he’s somehow more handsome, and how is it that everything he does makes you giddy? He regards you serenely, head cocked slightly to the left, observing your reactions. As always.

“It’s okay,” he answers your unspoken apology. “Do you want to start over?” And at your grateful nod: “My name is Connor.”

You respond in kind, though your own name sounds distant in your ears, because he’s saying something about how his protocols indicate this is the optimal moment to initiate mouth to mouth contact and he’s leaning over the table, closer, closer.

In the empty, quiet shop, he kisses you. This one, lambent morning when there’s a break in the clouds and sun in your eyes, he kisses you, not quite hesitant. More like he’s experimenting. Thoroughly.

You stiffen, though he’d moved slow enough to it, but his lips are soft, pliant. You kiss him back fervently, bring your hand up to grip his forearm, don’t go. Don’t end this too quickly.

When you part, it’s not far, you pull away needing to breath and knowing he never will.

“You know Hank hates plain black coffee, right?” It slips out before you can stop yourself. Something about this damn android.

“Yes.” His brow furrows. “He needs to eat healthier. He’s at risk of heart disease.”

You find yourself worrying your lower lip. “The fact that we made out probably isn’t going to help his stress level.”

“No. Luckily I know of several disused rooms at the precinct which are perfect for–”

“Discussing the history of jazz?” You finish, glancing down at his book.

He almost smiles. You catch it in his eyes. “Find me on your first day and I’ll show you around.”

#connor x reader #dbh connor #connor dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human #fanfic #coffee shop au

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princess-pill-enjoyer · 2 years ago

Text

#19

Took 150 cause my mind would not stop thinking about it. I figure that's enough to feel something off it but not where I'm out of commission.

AFTERMATH

Took another 150 and I did that weird don't feel like I'm high thing. My throat has been burning from all the pills I swallow. My stomach is really not appreciating it. I didn't really eat yesterday either. It lowkey slipped my mind. Ig not eating plus constantly belching has cured my bloating for a bit. Very weird buut hey you know. es what it es. Aside from that no real symptoms. Just my stomach being fussy

NOTES/EMOTIONS

Yeah uh. Most definitely spiraling now. I'm taking them so often compared to the beginning when I thought I'd still be getting off them soon. I kinda see why? Money problems.. again

The place I interviewed for didn't call back afterall. I thought I had it in the bag but noope. I'm officially starting this work from home call shit soon. I need the money atp. My student loan shit is finally charging me as it's been 6 months since I've been in school. So that's 77 right there. Then my university finally got their shit together and changed the amount I owed to like 2k which is a lot better.. only thing is the most the most they'll allow you to stretch it out to is 12 months so I have to pay them 200 every month. Plus I was kinda counting on the rest of my birthday money to pay off this shit I borrowed on cashapp.

I like to borrow the junk on there when I know I'll be getting the money/have the money to pay it off soon after as they increase my borrow limit when I do that. I've gone from my max being like $20 to now I have a limit of... I believe 125? Not that I ever really need it but it's nice to know in a pinch I have 125 of "free" money that I have about a month to pay back. It's helped me out so many times. I was buying this mirror and I didn't realize my spotify subscription already renewed for the month so I didn't have enough on me to buy the mirror technically. BUTT I borrowed like $30 for it and the other bs I was getting, paid it off like 4 days later then boom more money available. It's been going good aside from two incidents.

I'm sure I wrote about it in my intro but basically I started balling out the week I thought I was gonna kill myself cause I figured it didn't really matter and I'm sure if they explained it to them they'd cancel the shit. And even if not, I mean it was like what... $100? It wouldn't be that big of a deal either way. But then I ended up staying so that was a thingg. I never thought I'd be there to that point so I fr didn't have the money to pay it like.. at all. I got lucky the like final final day it was due was 2 days after my birthday so with the birthday money I got I could pay it off. This time was kinda the same?

I bought this figurine I've been looking at for months now out of like.. I'm gonna get it anyway. I've been wanting it and talking about it since prolly like. December now. And I didn't have enough on my card but I thought that was fine cause I had like $150 in cash so I was just gon go to the bank and boom. Only to be a dumbass and buy shit the times I had to sit at the mall for my sister. Then I went to pride and spent the little bit I had left on food. I kinda thought my aunt would pay for me too as she invited me and like.. not THAT damn grown but nope. I ended up spending $70 on food alone and then the rest of it went to getting into this one club and these stickers I bought to support this group working to get better conditions in animal shelters and stop dogs from getting put down over small shit that's mostly on the owner. The stickers were $6 already which stung a ilttle but what really killed me is the damn club

Sigh. I won't get into specifics cause I've already been babbling and I still have a lot to say. Basically, my aunt let me smoke her weed with her but it was so so strong and 3 hours later I was still kinda gone. I wanted to go to sleep but the motel we (me, my aunt, and her bsf) were staying at for the night was hella shady and they didn't want to leave me there on my own. So they sent me in the gas station to buy an energy drink and I was just to.. keep it pushing so they could go to the club. But since I'm a "minor" I got charged $10 extra. I'm 19 so I'm assuming they just call anyone that can't drink a minor? But that was already bad enough. I paid $30 in this short amount of time but I'm just like alr. Never been to a club before maybe it'll be worth it? No.

They literally went to the bathroom and I wasn't allowed to be alone so I had to shuffle around with them the whole time when I didn't even have to pee. But after standing in line and getting situated for like 20 mins we grouped up and shimmied our way through the crowd only for them to decide it was wack then we went to the outside part and just sat there pretty much alone. It was so fucking annoying. I'm not a huge partier my damn self but they were entirely too focused on fitting in. I'll admit that yeah, we did stick out alot. There were mostly hispanic ppl there and the music they were playing was in spanish and shit but at the same point? Why not make our own fun it woulda been 10x better than just sitting in the back and striking up 5 min convos with randoms. I wanted to go back in but atp.. I knew they'd say no to me going in on my own and I didn't wanna force them to be in an uncomfortable situation for my sake.

But yeah overall. $100 in food and stupid shit. I wasn't expecting to spend like absolutely nothing but I wasn't planning for that all to be gone either. Losing that money kinda screwed me. I really don't have any money like... at all. I have about $11 on my card and $14 in loose cash.. and I have to come up with $300 by next weekish. I have to pay back the money I borrowed for the figurine and I have to pay my 200 for my university debt. I really don't want to talk to my parents about it. I know they're gonna be mad and tbh I can't blame them. I should've saved some of it and I shouldn't be planning my money that hard that one event can royally screw me like that. That $200 they're supposed to give me is one thing. I wasn't expecting to not have that and I wasn't expecting my uni to want $200 a month at minimum. But the $125 I owe? Entirely on me and I just... I don't want them to rub it in rn

Uh money shit and my best friend lately. I dunno. I feel like she's a whole different person nowadays. And the more I think on our talk before the more I'm losing my feelings. Or that's what I think it is.

I've always had a problem with feeling abandoned and ever since my childhood. Dad and step mom used to be in their room 24/7. We'd do big stuff together and everything and that was nice and all but when it came to just spending time with us?? Almost never. We used to beg them to play with us all the time and they'd say yeah and just forget. Everytime. They rarely just played with us just cause. We had to beg and bother them so much for it. They always had to have some big ass event and all this special shit to care to spend time with us and it's just.. we just wanted to spend time with yall.

My mom mom wasn't much better tbh. She didn't really talk to me unless she was telling me what chores or basic, basic shit. Back when I was doing the two years on two years off thing, she actually never called either. I kinda forgot she was my mom at times. I used to be alone a lot too. When I lived with her, she had to work during the day but when she got back she would just go off and do her on thing. Even on her days off tbr. I'd be alone all the time. I used to try to ask her to play with me too but oftentimes I was on my own anyway

All that shit just made me hypersensitive to abandonment. I grew to hate that they could just withhold their love and affection until they felt like it. And when they did half the time it was some big giant thing. It made me feel like they were doing it more for the act of doing it than being with us you know?

I never want to have that again. I never want to be in a position to beg someone to give me attention. To love me. I'm just tired of doing it.

R is kind of putting me in that position nowadays. We don't talk as much, we don't "hang out" (I mean we're in completely diff states so not exactly exactly hanging out), we just occasionally joke around and parrot out the same old same old. I've talked to her about how much it bothers me on multiple occasions and she hasn't changed things at all. It just makes me feel so stupid. All this time I thought possibly we had the same feelings for each other but it must've meant literally nothing to her. She said that she would treat her girlfriend "like she treated me" which has been eating me up. She knows what she's doing atp and she's too busy kekeing with her girl to care.

I'm just completely done. I've spoken my piece and things haven't changed. I refuse to let anyone dangle their love over my head whenever they feel like it. Including her. I'm tired of always having this happen and I'm done trying to improve our relationship. You can't just cast me to the side as you please and expect to come back to the same closeness. You're just blatantly telling me you don't care. I don't ask for much. I just want to spend some time with her time to time whether it's playing a game together, having actual conversations instead of the constantly on 10 hehe haha bs, or the occasional call just to catch up. But nah. I see how it is atp

I'm just ready her to snap out her trance cause atp it's ridiculous and I don't get how she doesn't see it. Her girlfriend gets so possessive and insecure to the point where she really can't maintain any friendships period. I swear she wants R to give her attention 25/7 and whenever she doesn't get it she's worried that she likes them better.

God I'm just. I can't talk about this anymore. One one hand her girlfriend is so fucking manipulative and R shouldn't feel this much pressure to keep a tunnel vision on her. Or give up on everything she likes to do to appease her. Or feel such a fucking rush to get through all the relationship milestones all in one go. But on the other hand, R isn't blameless either. She knows how much this affects me and she promised that she would never let her girlfriend get in between us but now look at us. You've ignored everything I said to appease your partner. I don't need your attention all the damn time but I wish you would stop treating me as the aftrthought. I shouldn't have to beg to hang out with my friend. That's all I'm asking. I want you to actually want to fucking talk to me instead of doing it cause you're used to it. Cause you said you would. You don't care about how distant we've gotten cause for you you can just get it from your girl right? You don't care about how it makes me feel. You're all about your partner and I just have to accept whatever breadcrumbs of shallow conversation you decide to throw me. And I'm supposed to stay the same towards you or it hurts your feelings..?

lol. when you don't tend to your friendships we grow apart. Don't get mad about that. Why do you always get jealous aand worried about me replacing you when thats literally what you did to me? Am I meant to be eagerly waiting for you when I have friends that genuinely care to keep in touch? And even the ones that only occasionally talk to me, we at least don't pretend that we're close. We catch up, chill for a little while, and gon about our day.

I'm just. imm done talking about this. its never fully satisfying. i astill have so much to say but. at the end of the day. just. done. im crying atp and i just want more pills

#dph #benadryl #diphenhydramine #dph addiction #vent #trip reports #excessively long

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