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don't ask too many questions - hayconroland
Hayden wants Connor. Connor clearly doesn't want Hayden, but he does want Hayden to stop hanging around Roland. Or maybe he just doesn't want them to be together when he's not there.
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Hayden Upchurch is seventeen years old and sick of himself when he realizes heâs in love with his best friend. The one whoâs dating his other best friend, that is. The one who would never, ever, fall for someone like Hayden.Â
Heâs had a problem with daydreaming, always has. Feels like the worst part of his heritageâ two actor parents, of course heâd come up with a fantasy, everyone around him with a part to play to secure his happy ending. Hayden wants to believe that the world revolves around him and so he does. Even when his parents split. Even when they give him up to be dismembered. Even when he comes in contact with the one boy who finally might put him first, and then doesnât.
But then again, who hasnât wanted to be in love with Connor Lassiter? Hayden hasnât met a single soul in the Graveyard who hasnât contemplated it at some point. Sure, some make a point of pretending theyâd never go there, but they would. They all would. Even Hayden. Thatâs kind of why this aches so bad. Connor has his pick of anyone in the world, even if he hasnât put that together yet. He could have anyone, and he doesnât want Hayden.
The worst part is, Haydenâs pretty sure he could have made it happen were it not for the fact that the good story has already started to play out. Connor chose Risa. Of course he would. Itâs a match made in heaven, if thereâs any bit of heaven reserved for the bits-and-pieces Unwinds even a mother couldnât love. Pretty people fall in love with pretty people. Risaâs smart and Connorâs brave. Hayden knew it was over for him the second they showed up together, and with a baby no less. God, itâs like theyâre already jumpstarting their iconic unwind celebrity family.
It makes him want to gag, and he probably would, if it werenât for the fact that he feels more like sobbing instead. Technically, Connor and Risa havenât announced anything, or done anything for that matter, but they donât have to. Haydenâs seen enough lovesick glances to know a crush when itâs right in front of his face.
It was one thing when he could hide from the truth of it, tucked away in the darkness of the antique store basement. In the shadows, Hayden could convince himself of anything, even that the Akron Awol might find him hot. Andâ itâs stupid, right? Hayden knows heâs hot. The PR agent his parents hired for him since the age of five has made sure of that. Yet all it takes is one (honestly, average) teenage outlaw and Haydenâs wondering if his hair has somehow lost its luster or if his eyes are starting to bleach out their blue. Maybe his jokes are falling flat. Maybe he was never funny in the first place. Maybe thatâs why Connor wouldnât look at him unless his feet were on fire or something.
Trapped in the Graveyard, thereâs no hiding from the truth. Stuck labeling boxes and unpacking crates, Hayden has the perfect view as Connor and Risa make more excuses to find each other. Heâs organizing canned food now, slamming each box down with unnecessary force so he doesnât punch somebody instead. He has the perfect view through the bars of the storage caddy as Connor benefits from another excuse to visit the medical wing.
Connor has just emerged from the med bay, grinning ear to ear. He shakes his head foolishly as he heads back into the sunlight, as if unable to believe himself. Hayden canât believe it, either. He certainly canât believe that heâs still letting himself feel so terrible over the proud smirk on Connorâs face, the pride that certainly means heâs not holding himself back the way Hayden is.
He canât do this anymore. Slumped against a wall of crates, Haydenâs eye catches a flicker of pink amongst the scores of labels. Itâs a heart, part of a logo of some company. Filled with a sudden, irrational burst of anger, he lunges forward and tears the heart away, piece by piece, until blood wells up underneath the edges of his fingertips. He sucks on his index finger to take the sharp prick of pain away, cursing both the can and himself. He could go to medical to get it cleaned up, of course, but then heâd have to see Risa, and thatâs out of the question.
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â
A sudden voice nearly makes Hayden jump out of his skin. He bangs his head against one of the shelves, and straightens up, swearing, to get a good look at whoeverâs just surprised him. Oddly enough, itâs Roland. He doesnât usually bother Hayden, opting instead to save himself the nuisance of Haydenâs endless barbs and digs at his expense, but apparently Haydenâs done something today to warrant the visit. Lovely.
âJesus,â Hayden mutters under his breath, rubbing the sore spot on his head, âWhereâd you come from? Donât tell me youâve taken to spawning out of the shadows now.â
Roland just chuckles, face completely deadpan. âIâll consider it. Why do you look like you just got hit by a bus? I want to know who beat me to it.â
Hayden rolls his eyes. He barely has the strength to deal with his own thoughts. Roland is so far from what Hayden can deal with, itâs not even funny. âCan you justâ just fuck off, will you? Go bother one of the little kids and leave me alone.â
He tries to storm off, but there isnât much room tucked in amongst the crates, so Hayden is only able to stomp a few feet away and stand with his back to Roland, glowering at the jars of green olives in front of him. He can just make out Rolandâs reflection behind him in the watery sheen of the glass, the confused furrow of his brow.
âWhatâs gotten into you?â Roland asks, genuinely curious.
Hayden doesnât even bother to answer. He reaches out, uselessly straightening the rows of olives in the hopes that Roland will get bored and leave him alone. Strangely enough, Roland doesnât, and walks closer to Hayden until theyâre shoulder to shoulder again.
âSeriously,â Roland says. âIâve never known anything that could make you shut up. Iâm kind of jealous.â
Against his will, Haydenâs gaze betrays him and flits through the gaps in the crates to where Connor still idles near the medical bay. Roland turns his head to follow Haydenâs line of breath and he sucks in a breath as he puts the pieces together far too quickly.
âOh,â Roland says, voice strangely deep. âOh, shit.â
Hayden feels as if all the blood in his body has suddenly rushed to his feet. His face must be like bone, stripped of any sign of light. âYou shut the fuck up,â he says unsteadily, âYou shut the fuck up, I swear to God, Iâll kill you, I swear it. Iâll fucking kill you. Iâll hit you so bad you wonât even walk. Donât you say a damn thing.â
They both know itâs bullshit, Roland could kick Haydenâs ass in a second. This close, practically breathing down each otherâs throats, Hayden can sense all that muscle, vibrating with nerves. Everything in Roland is electric, ready to pounce, but instead, he says raggedly, âI can help with that.â
Hayden blinks in surprise. âYou want to help me kill you?â
Roland shakes his head disgustedly. âNo, dumbass. I can help you with Connor.â
Hayden just stares. âWhy the fuck would you do that?â
Something like a muscle twitch pulls the corner of Rolandâs lips up into a half-smirk. âI like getting under his skin. Maybe under his shirt, at least.â
A flash of white-hot courses through Hayden in an instant. He waits for Roland to start laughing, or start swinging, to tell him that heâd been joking, or messing with him, or something, anything, for this situation to make sense. Instead, Roland leans a little closer, expectant, and Hayden realizes that heâs not joking around at all.
âAlright,â Hayden says at last. âWhat did you have in mind?â
Rolandâs teeth bare in a full grin. âI was hoping youâd ask. See, Iâve noticed something about our mutual friend. Connor doesnât do very well with jealousy.â
Hayden laughs derisively before he can stop himself. âProblem with that one, Roland. Connor isnât jealous of either of us.â
Roland doesnât look remotely fazed by this. âWant to bet?â
They both turn as one again to look over at Connor. Stupid, reckless Connor, whoâs straightened up to look back at them, who may be seeing two silhouettes behind the storage crates where there should just be one. Connor doesnât look quite so carefree anymore. In fact, although it may be reaching, Hayden would go so far as to say that he looks quite worried indeed.
Hayden lets out a low whistle. âYou actually might be right about that one.â
Roland scoffs. âIâm usually right. You just donât pay attention.â
Hayden fights the urge to roll his eyes again and only mostly succeeds. âHowâd you know?â
Roland initiates an elaborate shrug. âI know what to do when a boy doesnât give me what I want.â
Heâs really close right now, Hayden realizes. Heâs not sure when Roland got that close, but Hayden can either stay here or back up, and this closed in surrender doesnât really seem like an option, so he stays. Rolandâs breath is hot on his mouth. Theyâre still so damn close. This might be what heatstroke feels like. Insanity may set in soon, if it hasnât already.
âAlright,â Hayden stumbles. âLetâs make him jealous, then.â
Rolandâs grin really is sharklike, Hayden decides, but he canât tell if heâs the prey or Connor. Maybe both. âGreat choice.â
Before Hayden can do or say something stupid, Connor appears around the stack of crates, peering at both of them dubiously. âWhat are you two doing?â
Roland reacts immediately, like he was waiting for it. Probably salivating over their moment of discovery, too, like a dog with the premise of a bone. âTalking, Connor. Youâre familiar with it?â
He claps his hand down on Haydenâs shoulder, and Hayden does his best not to startle. He feels like heâs hyper aware of everything going on with his bicep, down to the slightest shuffle of Rolandâs fingers against the fabric of Haydenâs shirt, or the heaviness of Rolandâs breathing despite doing his best to pretend as if nothing were the matter.
Connor seems to notice it too. His eyes are glued to Rolandâs hand on Hayden, and it seems to take him considerable effort to swallow harshly and say, âThat true, Hayden?â
Hayden can practically feel Rolandâs gaze boring down on him, demanding that he play along. Well, Haydenâs perfectly fine with playing along. Itâs supposed to be in his genes, isnât it? âAll good, Connor. Just fucking around on duty. You going to report us to the Admiral?â
He manages to force a chuckle as he says it, and Roland nods along, clearly pleased. Connor swallows again. âJustâ get back to work, will you?â
âSo bossy, isnât he?â Roland muses, and it seems like an inside joke between him and Hayden. Hayden laughs because he can, because he should. Connor looks like heâs stopped being able to understand the language theyâre speaking.
Roland lets the moment sit a second longer, then tears his hand from Hayden at last and sweeps away, purposely bumping into Connor as he goes. Both Hayden and Connor watch him disappear. Connor turns back to Hayden once Roland is out of view, and says hoarsely, âWhat was that?â
Hayden canât answer.
Everything feels different, and does for hours after. Days, even. At meals, Roland appears to drag Hayden away by the arm, and they eat alone together, tucked in a corner of the room where no one else can reach them. Theyâre always touching, somehowâ a shin against a shin, a hand on an arm, fingers grasping the back of Haydenâs neck like the scruff of a dog. Heâs going to explode with the force of something great and terrible, but Connor first, because Connor has to see all this happen and not feel it, too, not like Hayden. Hayden gets to feel it all, because Roland asked him, not Connor. It feels fucking fantastic.
It all comes to a head about a week later. Connorâs been strumming with the rage of not being the first choice for several days now. Hayden wants to tell him that heâs being really selfishâ how long had Hayden put up with the same thing, anyway, several weeks? Months? Longer than this, at least. Hayden could take it if their situations were reversed. Probably.
Connorâs been trying to talk to Hayden all day, but Hayden keeps dodging him, claiming to be busy or something. At last, when night falls, Connor tracks him down and Hayden runs out of excuses.
âItâs dark,â he tries to claim, Connorâs hand thick and strong on the sleeve of his jacket, âPeople are trying to sleep, Connor. We canât disturb them.â
âFine,â Connor says icily, and all but drags him to one of the grounded planes.Â
Roland meets them halfway there. Maybe the scent of Haydenâs fear carries across the whole damn Graveyard. Sure feels that way, at least. He says not a word but walks with them, opens the door of the plane. Locks it behind them.
Then theyâre all standing in a rough circle, Connorâs hand still stuck on Haydenâs jacket sleeve. âI want to know what this is about,â he says roughly. âAnd donât try to bullshit me. Youâre doing something.â
Roland folds his arms across his chest, all casual. âWeâre doing something, alright.â
Connor almost growls with irritation. âYouâre trying to bother me. I get it, Iâve been snapping at everybody. Fine. Itâs dangerous out there, I wanted to keep us safe. Sue me, but talk to me, instead of doing this.â
Roland grins. Sharklike again. Like he doesnât know how to smile any other way. âWhat are we doing, Connor? You tell us.â
âUs,â Connor seethes. âThereâs never been an us. This is what Iâm talking about. You keep playing up thisâ this thing between the two of you. Youâre trying to get to me, I donât know why, but Iâm sick of it. Canât you be normal for once in your lives?â
Hayden can sense the power thrumming through the room, turning the air thick and hot with imbalance, but for once, itâs not on Connorâs side. It feels good to be the one in charge, he has to say. Hayden doesnât usually like it, but he does now.
âWhy would us talking bother you, Connor?â He says, relaxed as anything. âI donât see what could possibly be the problem. Weâre just talking.â
Connor rounds on him. âYouâre not just talking, though. I know you arenât. Maybe youâre trying to get me out or something. I donât know what youâre doing.â
Roland stalks closer. âIt bothers you, doesnât it? Not knowing what weâre up to.â
âThatâs what I just said,â Connor spits out, but he doesnât sound as self-righteous as he did before. In fact, his voice wobbles slightly on the last syllable, just like it had when heâd caught them the first time.
âI donât know why it would bother you,â Hayden says matter-of-factly. âTo be honest, if youâve got anything wrong with it, I think you should prove it. Otherwise, I mean, how would we know what you want?â
Itâs a good move, Haydenâs proud of it. Even Rolandâs grinning, the two of them in on another joke. Connor chafes against that exclusion like a dog at a bit, foaming at the mouth at the thought of them having anything without him.
âWhat I want,â Connor says slowly, voice thick with it, âis for you two to stop fucking around like this. Stop looking at me like Iâm the odd one out. You two hate each other, anyway.â
Roland stalks closer. The way heâs eying Connor is downright predatory. âI think Iâm confused. Do you want us to stop, or do you want to be a part of it?â
âI donât even know what it is,â Connor tries to say, but his voice drops away into nothingness the closer Roland gets to him. Hayden can understand the feeling. He still feels like the floor of the plane isnât all too steady anymore.
âI think you do,â Roland says. He looms over them both now, less in stature and more in spirit. The span of him could last forever. Enough for Connor and Hayden to share, and a little left over too.
Haydenâs jacket is on the floor, and he only knows it happens at all because of the quick flash of Connorâs hands ripping it off of him in the corner of Haydenâs vision. Roland doesnât even react to the motion. He just keeps staring at the two of them, grinning, waiting. Then he moves, is on them in an instant, and thereâs nothing any of them could have done after that.
Hayden honestly doesnât know if Connor was there to stop them or join. In the end, it doesnât matter. Hayden knows how that would-be intervention ended, and it didnât really seem like Connor was that keen on any of them stopping, for that matter.
He has no idea whatâs going to happen after this. Rolandâs plan really only went so far as getting Connor to snap, no continuity for the fallout. For once, though, Hayden doesnât think he needs a plan for how to act, what to do. Maybe he can just make it up as he goes along. Roland and Connor would be down, and nothing else really matters. Everything is business as usual and he feels good. Really good, actually, and if Haydenâs voice is oddly hoarse the next morning, most people have the good sense not to ask why.
Most people, that is. Risa sidles up to Hayden later that day. Heâs pretending to organize some cans of food, although he starts pretending extra hard when he notices the suspicious look on her face.Â
âThe windows on one of the planes were quite fogged up this morning,â Risa remarks.Â
âPlanes do that sometimes,â Hayden replies calmly. âI wouldnât worry about it.â
Risa casts him a sidelong glance, but when Hayden refuses to extrapolate on that absolute failure of a sentence, she sighs so deeply heâs pretty sure the Admiral could hear it from his office. She looks like sheâs going to call him out on this obvious bit of bullshit, but then she spots something across the tarmac and straightens up a little.Â
âNever mind,â she says, âI think Iâve answered my own question.â
Risa starts to walk away, then pauses as if sheâs just thought of something important and turns back to him. âDonât do anything stupid, Hayden. Or anything else stupid.â
With those inspiring words of wisdom, Risa heads back the way sheâd come. Hayden frowns, confused, then tries to figure out what sheâd been looking at to change her mind so quickly.Â
It doesnât take long to figure it out. Shaded by the metal underbelly of one of the Graveyardâs many planes, two figures stand close together, their shoulders brushing as they whisper. Roland and Connor. Two people who supposedly hate each other, who did hate each other or were at least good at pretending until last night. Now, instead of trying to kill each other, theyâre muttering back and forth, all the while both eyeing Hayden with identical, bloodthirsty grins. Like they knew exactly what prey they wanted. Like they already knew it was twitching under their claws.Â
Oh, Hayden is so fucked. But hasnât that always been true?
unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#hayconroland#hayconroland imagines#hayconroland oneshot#hayconroland fanfic#unwind#unwind imagines#unwind oneshot#unwind fanfic#unwind dystology#unwind dystology imagines#unwind dystology oneshot#unwind dystology fanfic#hayden upchurch#hayden upchurch imagines#hayden upchurch oneshot#hayden upchurch fanfic#connor lassiter#connor lassiter imagines#connor lassiter fanfic#connor lassiter oneshot#roland taggart#roland taggart imagines#roland taggart oneshot#roland taggart fanfic
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I got inspired by @lazysailor to dress up my Papaâs Donuteria worker and driver as Roland and Connor.
#please ignore their cunty hair badanas#they were on theme with the season#imagine service working with your enemy#couldnât be me#unwind dystology#unwind#roland taggart#connor lassiter
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If ur curious about the height of everyone in the Unwind Band AU, well hereâs how tall I THINK they are
#unwind#unwind dystology#unwind band au#connor lassiter#risa ward#lev tashi'ne#camus comprix#roland taggart#unwind oc#layton wach#just imagine Lev tryna talk to Roland đ
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âYour point?â
âJust that youâre not the only one who thinks the Admiral needs some⌠restraining.â
#unwind#unwind dystology#connor lassiter#roland taggart#i hate that my brain imagines roland looking like finlay macmillan#roland is far too creepy for that he doesnât deserve it#yes it is because he reminds me of movie enoch leave me alone#fucking hate roland iâm so glad he dies#dragonâs doodles
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Recalled ⢠Part 5 ⢠34 - Roland and Nero
Previous â˘Â Series Masterlist â˘Â Part 5 Masterlist ⢠Next
The air is cool today as Roland sits at a bus stop waiting for the city bus to come pick him up. Never in a million years would he have expected that him running away at 17 would lead to him going to a flight academy at 19 years old. Hearing footsteps, he shifts his attention to his right, seeing Nero approaching. Sheâs got a box in her hand as well as a backpack and suitcase.
âHi, worm.â She teases.
âHola pendeja.â He snaps back.
âChoosing violence today?â
âVerbal violence really, and I think you started it.â
âI did, didn't I?â She ducks herself into the shelter of the bus stop. Sitting down with him, she gives him the box in her hand.
âWhatâs this?â
âA present from the StaHo.â She air quotes.
Roland opens the box, inside is a white mask with a blue square in the middle, above the square is the word âMODIFIEDâ.
He looks at Nero. âThis is a joke right?â
âNo, youâll have to wear that if you ever go outside of the United States.â
âSo Iâll be branded basically?â
âHey!â Nero pulls out her own mask and puts it on, the word âHOSTILEâ is printed on it. âMine looks worse.âÂ
Roland leans away from her, as soon as she puts the mask on itâs like her feelings become completely unreadable. Roland doesnât like it when he doesnât understand the feelings of those around him, it makes the situation harder to control.
âWhy?â The asks.Â
âStarkey, thatâs why.â She removes the mask. âIâve already been almost pepper sprayed for just existing, I canât imagine what bad luck these masks will bring,â She looks back over at Rolandâs mask. âAt least in your case, no one will be threatened by you. Modified Recalls are considered the most docile.â
âWhat if I want to be a little threatening?â
âYou donât, outside of the U.S. some people will still consider you unwindable, if they can come up with your old paperwork theyâll make any excuse to get their hands on you.â
âAnd what about you?â
âIâm like recycled paper, you canât exactly recycle it again.â
âHuh.â
The bus soon arrives and they both get on, after finding two seats midway through the bus they sit down, clutching onto their luggage.
âI noticed something earlier, you spoke to me in Spanish,â Nero remarks.
âYeah, turns out my mom was speaking with her mother-in-law, I guess half of my family is Spanish,â Roland explains.
âYou guess?â
âI know.â
âSo, by proxy, youâre halfâŚ..?â
âSpaniard, I think I used to speak Spanish, but Mr. Taggart got rid of that in the same way he always does.â
Nero takes a moment to speak. âBelt?â
âBelt, Iâm guessing, the fact that I couldnât even remember half of my family was Spanish means that the correction was made a long time ago. He couldâve used something else at the time.â
Nero gives a sympathetic look. âProbably just an older belt.â
âYeah, youâre right, who am I kidding.â
It takes about thirty minutes to get to the campus, turns out the academy was built into an on-site co-op building for a community college. âMakes sense.â Roland thinks he had wondered why a three-month-long program was offering residency.
âI suppose we go into that building.â Nero points to a building, on the side of it in big text is âSouth Campusâ.Â
They both head up to the building and get checked in, it looks like Nero will be on the third floor while Roland will be on the second.
âI guess no late-night chatting,â Nero comments.
âI feel like youâd find an unconventional way to get into my dorm,â Roland replies.Â
âI probably would.â
Arriving in his dorm a mousy boy is exiting the room to the left, he looks up at Roland and pauses.
âWhat?â Roland asks.Â
The boy scowls. âI bet someone like you gets a lot of women.â
âNo I⌠I donât.âÂ
âSure you donât, someone as attractive as you is bound to get females.â
âUhhâŚâ
The boy goes back into his room, thereâs a waft of pungent wind that exits as he slams the door. Trying not to vomit, Roland goes into the room to the right, he looks around, thereâs a lifted mattress, a desk, and a clothing rack. Roland sets his stuff down and starts unpacking it, he stares at an outlet on the bare wall across from his bed, he wonders if the residential administration will let him plug in a wallflower.
A few girls are chatting in the hallway as she climbs to the third floor. They look at her funny as she passes through the girls-only section. Almost going all the way down the hall she stops at a room just before the second stairwell, at least she knows which one to use next time she comes to her dorm. Opening the door sheâs met with a guy listening to music while downing a protein shake. He looks at her, and heâs amazed.
âHoly Hell! Nice muscles!âÂ
Nero is taken aback. âOh, thank you.â
âHowâd you get all like that? I donât mean this to sound rude, but you are a girl, right?â
Nero squints her eyes a little, analyzing the guy. Not everyone takes lightly knowing that Nero doesnât consider herself one person, she supposes not even the people who seemed like they were in support of her took lightly to that knowledge. She decides that, for now, she is just a woman made of many parts.Â
âI was just made like this, itâs just about maintaining it.â She declares.
âWell, colour me impressed.â
Nero rolls her luggage to the empty room when the guy talks again.Â
âI was just about to go down to the gym, would you like to join me?â
Nero pauses for a moment, she does have her workout clothes on her, and her water bottle; she looks back up at the guy.Â
âYou got fuel?â
The guy smiles and puts his finger up, he goes to search the mini pantry, pulling out a protein bar. âThis good enough?â
âYeah, I could get in a few reps with that.â
She and the guy, who she now knows as Carter, sit on a bench doing curls. Nero looks around the gym, there doesnât seem to be many people.
âThatâs Judy over there, sheâs in her second year at college. I like being her hype man every so often.â Carter points to a bigger woman doing squats.
âThen thereâs Trevor, heâs been here for a week in advance for the pilot Academy, I think you two would be in the same class.â He points to the shirtless guy using the butterfly machine. âI think he's a showoff, but I wonât tell him, if he leaves itâll make it more awkward between Judy and I.â
âNot many people use this facility huh?â
âOh, no people use it a lot on the weekdays, itâs just empty âcause itâs a Sunday.â
âAh, good, this place isnât going to waste.â
Crickets are chirping outside when Roland gets a notification from Nero.
Howâs your day been? She had texted.Â
Terrible Iâve been roomed with an Incel, he seems to think Iâm a fuckboy.
Oh no :(
Iâm going to ask if I can plug in a wallflower. His room reeks so badly!
Nasty!!!
I know! How are u
Iâve got a gym rat for a roommate, heâs cool tho
Nice!
Roland steps over and flops onto his bed, he feels blessed that the pungent air hasnât made its way into his room yet. If he canât get something to plug in, heâll want to change rooms as soon as possible.
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Holy moly someone actually responded HI :D! I love all of these omfg, these are so real
Okay so first off I wanna talk about yours before l list some of mine sooâŚ
-Triple threat doing a bunch of childhood like stuff is so wholesome and cute. I can imagine all of them going to an arcade and playing laser tag or smth ( Risa would prob dominate in laser tag I feel)
-also yea Grace is just a god at most board games
-love the idea of them all having sleepovers, especially in Graceâs giant house that she has in unbound
-Lev being covered in sharpie drawings is even funnier adding in the fact that heâs already covered in tattoos
-you know Connor would make the â what that tongue doâ joke when Risa shows him the cherry tying trick
-Musical/Theater kid Connor is so real and I like to think Hayden and Grace are also theater kids so theyâd join him in singing musicals 24/7
So now that my thoughts on your headcanons are out the way here are some of mine
-Grace is the kind of person to adopt every stray animal she finds (but is also allergic to cats, which she is very bitter about)
-Risa and hayden both hate reality tv and binge watch it together solely to make fun of it
-Connor is a really good artist and has sketchbooks full of drawings of everyone, especially risa
-Lev has a love for tea he got from Pastor Dan (rip)
-Divan pays for Argentâs therapy (cuz as much I dislike him as a person, he needs it)
-Nelson and Argent would insult each others names 24/7
-Cam is constantly picking up new hobbies and trying to learn to play more instruments
-lev is a terrible cook, like burns toast sort of terrible cook
-Connor learns meaning of Levs tattoos after the main series and get his own. Underneath the shark tattoo is one that says âRoland Taggartâ and has â MM Starkeyâ tattooed on the other arm
-Hayden has/had crushes on both Connor and Risa (hayconrisa is life)
-Connor owns a ton of hoodies, which Risa is always stealing
-Cam is gets really over competitive at game nights, idk why I feel he would do this he just would
Thatâs the headcanons I can think of rn, but probably have a crap ton more in the back of my brain :D
Hey!
Anyone wanna share their Unwind headcanons cuz I have so many and no one to talk to
#unwind dystology#unwind#unwholly#unsouled#undivided#neal shusterman#connor lassiter#lev calder#lev unwind#risa ward#hayden upchurch#Grace skinner#camus comprix#argent skinner#jt Nelson#divan umarov#headcanons#unwind headcanons
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seven devils all around me - connor lassiter x roland taggart
Connor Lassiter is stuck in the basement beneath an antique store. Roland Taggart is waiting for him.
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They take the Unwinds away one by one.
It makes it better, somehow. The waiting. Better and worse. Better, because this means theyâll each individually move faster than if everyone was removed from the cellar underneath Soniaâs antique shop in one great, easily distracted group. Better, because thereâs a slimmer chance of everyone getting caught by vengeful Juvey-cops if thereâs just one feral moving at a time than a group of a dozen dead kids walking.
Worse, because it means that the familiar faces are disappearing slowly but surely. The idea exists that they are being taken somewhere safe, but no one can be certain. All Connor Lassiter knows is that the few people in this world that he even halfway trusts are vanishing into the hands of khaki-uniformed strangers. Every few days, someone else goes up the trapdoor and back into the light, and their numbers shrink down to dust, a not-quite friend group being wound down into a mere handful of uneasy souls.
At first, it didnât trouble Connor all that much. He pictured it like a doctorâs waiting room:Â no matter how long he waited, theyâd all be seen eventually. A couple of the kids he barely knew were taken first, which didnât matter, but then he got to know the rest better and their loss hurt more than when he didnât remember their names, so. Thatâs what he gets for trying to make friends, apparently.
As their numbers seriously started to thin, though, Connor started getting shifty again. All of a sudden, there were four. Connor and Risa (the baby removed first, probably less out of moral obligation than the need to get the wailing infant out of that tiny space), joined at the hip ever since they crossed paths while running away. Also remaining in the darkness is Hayden in the back, trying out his sarcastic jokes on an ever-shrinking group of people, and, because the universe apparently cannot hate Connor enough, Roland.
Risa goes next. Connor expected to feel more unsettled by her disappearance after so much time spent watching each otherâs backs, but instead the first uncharitable thought in his mind is that at least he wonât be glared at every time he says something wrong. Heâs not a flawless human being, even if Risa seems to expect that heâll be just as perfect as she is.
About half a week later, soldiers in khaki come back down the stairs. Connor waits to see which one of the three remaining unwinds theyâll bring out. It must be him or Roland. Connorâs more of a high profile figure at this point, but Rolandâs been here longer, and if theyâre trying to get the kids whoâve been waiting for greater intervals, theyâve got to take him out first. Maybe thatâs just wishful thinking, though.
To Connorâs surprise, the guards instead point to Hayden and gruffly tell him to get a move on. The blond pumps a fist in mock celebration, then glances between Connor and Roland. âTry not to tear each other to pieces, will you? Leave that for the Juveys.â
With those words of wisdom, Hayden heads for the door, not inclined to loiter in the dark basement any more than he has to. Connor canât blame him. If he had the chance to get out, heâd sprint up those stairs in a heartbeat.
The guards replenish some of the supplies in the basement, then leave at last, shutting the trapdoor behind them with an ominous thud. Connor is left with the chilling realization that Hayden was the last person who could possibly stand between him and Roland. Now that Haydenâs gone, nothing can stop Roland from finally acting on the hatred thatâs been simmering between both of them from the second Connor got here.
Connor canât believe theyâd actually leave him here with Roland. When you have two guys who obviously hate each otherâs guts, you donât abandon them to each other. It reminds Connor of a riddle he heard when he was a kidâ a chicken, some corn, and a fox stuck on one side of a river, a raft only big enough for two passengers, and a hapless farmer forced to figure out the order in which to ferry his passengers across so nothing gets eaten. Whoeverâs playing the game with their lives has obviously fucked up this round, but unlike in a riddle, there are no second tries. Connor is left to get consumed by the fox eyeing him coldly from the other side of the basement.
Above him, the footsteps of the guards and Hayden bleed away, softened by antique rugs and then gone for good. Most days, Connor likes to pretend that he can hear trucks coming and going. It makes him believe that maybe there is a plan for all of them after they leave, that they wonât just be dumped somewhere alone again.
Today, though, he hates it. Hates them for leaving them here. Shouldnât they know better? Even Hayden managed to figure that out in the span of a second. Any soldier with a week of experience should be able to tell that you donât stick the two kids who hate each other the most in a dark basement with only the other for company. Already, Connorâs eyes are adjusting to the gloom again, but he doesnât like the sight any better than he did on his first day.
âSo,â a cold voice rings out across the semi-darkness. âThey actually left us here alone. Didnât think theyâd do it.â
Connor scoffs, trying not to let any sign of apprehension slip through. âWhat, you got bored of my lively personality?â
âHumor doesnât suit you, Connor,â Roland drawls. âHayden got away with it because we liked him better than you. You canât hide behind him any longer, though. Itâs just us down here. Just you and me.â
âCharming,â Connor mumbles. âBut itâll be over in a few days. Then one of us will be alone. I hope itâs you.â
Something almost like sympathy twists at Connorâs gut as he says it. Even though he despises Roland, the thought of being alone down here in the dark and depressing basement is a fate he would kill to avoid. If heâs thinking that, though, Roland probably is too. And if Connor is willing to kill to not be the one left behind, Roland must be foaming at the mouth at the thought of it.
Roland chuckles. The sound issues across the basement until it coasts up to Connor, making the hair on his arms stand up with a rush. Theyâve positioned themselves to be as far apart as possible, but their placement on opposite sides of the basement means that theyâre constantly staring each other dead in the eyes. One blink, one glance away, and one of them could be on the other in a heartbeat. So they keep staring, and no one moves. There are no more bodies to keep between them. Just Connor, and Roland, and the awful distance between.
âYouâd like that, wouldnât you? Youâd love it if they left me here? Bet it would make you feel awfully safe if I was locked up all the time. You think youâre a big man, Connor, but youâre scared of me.â
Connor scoffs and looks away. Thereâs a little too much knowledge in Rolandâs gaze, and it sharpens to a knifepoint between Connorâs brows. In his peripheral vision, Connor can see Roland shifting slightly, jutting his chin up. Proud. Correct. Despicable.
âIâm not scared of you. Guys like you are a dime a dozen. If I wanted a greasy thug, Iâd go to a gas station.â Connor spits out.
Roland stands in one swift motion, like heâs been yanked up by an invisible hand. Connorâs head jerks back up, but heâs looked back too lateâ Roland is already moving. The pretense is gone. Whatever they do here, theyâve been building up to it since the first day.
At first, Roland just hovers on the balls of his feet, leaning casually against the wall behind him. The basement is not tall, and he has to bend slightly so his head doesnât scrape the ceiling. This gives the impression that Roland is leaning towards him, close enough to reach. Close enough to snap his jaws shut around Connorâs throat.
âYou are scared,â Roland breathes triumphantly. âYouâre so obvious. Even if you left me here, youâd never stop being scared. Youâd go all across the world and youâd never stop thinking about me. Iâd be a bigger part of you than anything.â
Connor shakes his head. âYouâre wrong. Youâre nothing to me.â
âI donât believe you,â Roland hisses, and heâs across the basement in a second. Connor doesnât even see him move. He blinks and the other boy is standing right in front of him, the tips of his shoes nudging Connor in the sides. He has Connor bracketed just slightly, hardly touching him but making it obvious that Connor cannot move without Rolandâs express permission.
âYou canât do that,â Connor says. He feels like a little boy, whining about someone stealing his toy. âYou know the rules.â
Roland actually rolls his eyes. âThereâs nobody down here, remember? They canât see us.â
The rest goes unspoken. Nobody is here. Nobody would know. And nobody would tell. Certainly not Connor. That would mean admitting that he let one boy bother him to the point of telling, and even if they fight, Connorâs not a coward. Heâs going to handle this himself.
He tries to stand, but Rolandâs hand flashes out to grab him, pushing him down to the ground again by the shoulder.
âGet your hands off of me,â Connor spits.
âMake me,â Roland says, all teeth. He pinches Connorâs shoulder as he says it, further proof of what they both know by now to be true:Â Roland does what he wants, when he wants. And Connor wonât do a thing to stop it.
âYouâre crazy,â Connor says, leaning away from Roland. Maybe the guy will back off if Connor pretends he doesnât care. âDid you get hit on the head recently? Be honest.â
âItâs sweet of you to ask,â Roland simpers. He sinks to one knee so he can get a better read of Connorâs disgust, and theyâre practically breathing each other in now, barely a millimeter between them. âOf course, itâs not your job to worry. Not mine, either. Itâs not my head anymore, is it? Belongs to the Juveys. Who knows whoâll get my brain? Maybe you might end up with a piece or two.â He knocks his fist against Connorâs temple, less like a punch, more like a tap against an unlocked door. âYouâd like that, wouldnât you? Not knowing who was flirting with your girl, me or you? Or maybe my brainâs too good for you. Maybe youâd get my arm instead.â
Connor tries not to let his disgust at the idea show, but heâs not entirely successful. His dislike must be obvious, because Roland flashes him a dark grin, the expression broad and all-consuming. âWhat, you donât like the ink?â
âIâm not a big fan of dolphins,â Connor hisses back.
Irritated, Roland snaps his jaws, teeth crashing together just a hairâs breadth from the tip of Connorâs nose. He doesnât flinch, thankfully, but his eyes track the movement nonetheless, which makes Rolandâs victorious smile loom again as if he had moved after all.Â
âSee?â Roland says, smooth and slow. âScared. I see you.â
âYou wish,â Connor retorts. âIâd be more scared of a spider.â
âProve it, then,â Roland tells him. Heâs so assured of himself that he even leans back a little, resting casually where he kneels on the cold floor of the basement right in front of Connor. He truly doesnât believe that Connor could do a damn thing to him that matters.
Heâs wrong, though. Connor can. Roland is expecting a fight, or an insult, something he can counter, but thatâs the wrong move. Mama may have raised a boy she could give away for forms signed in triplicate but she sure as hell didnât raise a fool, so Connor knows he must do something terrible, something worse, something to ruin this dark place forever. Thereâs one last trick up Connorâs sleeve, but itâs the wrong move, itâs the wrong path to start because once he starts going heâll never stop. He should back off now, but heâs just like Roland in that aspectâ could never back down, could never do anything but hurl himself directly into troubleâ there is simply no other optionâ no choiceâÂ
Connorâs mouth collides with Rolandâs so harshly that their teeth crush together. He has the brief thought that heâd like to do that again, leaving the other boy bloody and bruised, and a sharp spike of something hot but not entirely unpleasant courses through him at the thought. Connorâs hand locks onto Rolandâs throat a moment later, fingernails scrabbling for purchase before sliding down to grip the neck of his t-shirt. Maybe he should have gone for the throat first instead of the mouth, but that wasnât the part that mattered. It was an afterthought. Throttle the boy, but not before you make him yours.
Roland lets out a surprised choke of air, just enough for Connorâs stomach to twist with satisfaction at getting the other hand, before he kisses Connor back with the same force if not more, enough to knock Connorâs head back against the wall. Connor gasps at the impact, giving Roland enough purchase to start pushing him into the ground again. Roland would bury him beneath the earth if he could, Connor thinks. He would erase all evidence that Connor had ever existed. Only Roland would know that he had been there at all.Â
Heâd like that too, Connor thinks with a shiver. Having that power over Connor. Owning him in every way that matters. Absolutely evil, but Connor is worse, because he has seen all of that and liked it. And allowed it to continue. And started it first.
Roland pulls away just a little, leaving both of them panting for breath. He kneels over Connor like a wild animal, and thereâs a spark of something new in his eyes. It might be respect. âDidnât think you had it in you, Lassiter.â
âYou donât know anything,â Connor growls, and forces them back together. One of his hands is bunched in the material of Rolandâs shirt, the other reaching up past the throat to knot in Rolandâs dark hair. Heâs seen it from across the basement for days now, how it seemed to suck in all the light that touched it. Heâs wanted to touch it, too, for a very long time. Connor tugs on the roots, jerking Rolandâs head back, exposing the veins pulsing against the skin. If he only had a bladeâ but he is the blade now, he is the weapon. Connor could kill him right now, and he wouldnât even need a knife.
The thought shocks him out of whatever trance made him do this. Connor pushes him away, suffering for purchase against the dirty floor until he picks himself up and flings himself across the basement, ending up where Roland had been just minutes before. They stare at each other again, so far from where they started, but somehow exactly in the same position. Two lions stuck in a cage, pacing, circling, until one lunges to draw blood and they engage once more.
âThis wonât happen again,â Connor informs him. Even he doesnât believe it.
Roland laughs pityingly. âYou tell yourself that. Weâve got plenty of time before they let us out. Youâll get bored. Face it, Connor. You can never let me go.â
Connor shakes his head resolutely. This was a breach of judgment, a one-time slip. A mistake that wonât repeat. But he can still taste Rolandâs breath on his tongue, and he can see where Rolandâs dark hair is mussed from his hands, and Connor knowsâ he knows that he is wrong. That it will happen again. And he will start it, or Roland will, or both of them. It wonât matter. In the dark of the basement, where no one knows theyâre alive, they can do whatever they want. This is what Connor wants. He's in a position to take it, so he will, again and again until they pull him out.
Then, who cares. He doesnât have to think about that. He doesnât have to think at all.
Roland grins. Heâs won this round. Connor will have to beat him at something else, find a way to expose his throat to the cold, violent air or otherwise make him weak. He still has two hands and a pulse. Heâll find a way to get back on top.
Until then, Connor doesnât have to remember a thing. The darkness swallows everything anyway. No point in looking.
a/n: for u babe @nealshustermanbrainrot
unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#unwind#unwind imagines#unwind oneshot#unwind fanfic#connor lassiter#connor lassiter imagines#connor lassiter oneshot#connor lassiter fanfic#unwind dystology#unwind dystology imagines#unwind dystology oneshot#unwind dystology fanfic#roland taggart#roland taggart imagines#roland taggart oneshot#roland taggart fanfic#conroland#conroland imagines#conroland oneshot#conroland fanfic#lassitaggart#connorroland#connor x roland#connor lassiter x roland taggart
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Danilo Delgado, Rolandâs biological father in my AUâŚ.
Yeah Proposition 73 ainât got nothing on this guy.
#unwind#unwind dystology#roland taggart#character art#art#sequel fic#unwind fanfic#unwind series#Spanish headcannon for the win#I wanted to draw the âMi hermana es una remora.â For such a long time#I imagine him to have a Bowser type relationship with his family#Loves them
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Connor Lassiter Masterlist
The Magnificent Seven World Swap
seven devils all around me - Connor Lassiter is stuck in the basement beneath an antique store. Roland Taggart is waiting for him. Conroland Oneshot
angel ex machina - Based on this request: "guardian angel y/n x connor lassiter where in unwind instead of lev saving him after the happy jack explosion its y/n." Guardian Angel AU
Made it Back to You - Based on this request: "Connor is the one who gets taken from the Graveyard by Roberta (for propaganda reasons not because Cam likes him) and Rise goes and saves him?" Oneshot
Find Another Way - Based on this request: "Connor meets a former friend, and he has turned a Clapper and than he tries to persuade him to not blow himself (and the other one) up?" Oneshot
guess that's growing up - Based on this request: "an angsty what-if fic where Connor doesn't go deliver his letter and is there when Nelson finds the antique shop" Oneshot
everything is blue ⢠conrisa space au - Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever. Completed Series
Love is Stored in the Sonata - Connor Lassiter thought heâd stop hearing the Graveyardâs piano once Risa Ward left. Y/N L/N may prove him wrong. It does not hurt him as much as he thought it would. Far from it, actually. Imagine
#connor lassiter#connor lassiter imagines#connor lassiter x reader#connor lassiter oneshot#connor lassiter masterlist#unwind#unwind imagines#unwind x reader#unwind oneshot#unwind masterlist#unwind dystology#unwind dystology imagines#unwind dystology x reader#unwind dystology oneshot#unwind dystology masterlist#connor lassiter fanfic#unwind fanfic#unwind dystology fanfic
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