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altruistic-meme · 3 months ago

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skk fic rec time !!! 🖤🖤

okay i officially have more skk fics bookmarked on my ao3 than my sister has fics in general bookmarked on hers. so. it is time for another ficrec list by abram, bsd/skk version this time!!!

i have no idea yet how many fics will be on this list. i will go until i decide to stop. but as of right now i have 124 bsd fics bookmarked and i definitely won't be listing all of them so if anyone wants a pt. 2 then i certainly have the material to do that.

i'm not putting warnings with the fics, but bc this is BSD please do take note of tags and warnings that are given! i read a lot of fics with darker material so do be cautious!

One-Shots:

keep you alive, set you on fire by flyby @orbitalflyby (Explicit, 23k) Dazai steps out in a dress and heels for a mission, since the gown won't fit Yosano. He's only supposed to spend an hour or so leading their targets on a dance around a charity gala, but the unexpected arrival of a certain Port Mafia Executive threatens to disrupt all his plans. And when he and Chuuya find themselves finally face to face, they end up entwined in a tense game of mutual provocation...

Don't Pull Your Punches by kanekei (Teen and Up Audiences, 5k) Everyone thinks that their partnership is a series of Dazai being a troublemaker while Chuuya is helplessly dragged along for the ride. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Some days it feels like Dazai is the only one aware of how insane Chuuya actually is. OR: 3 times Dazai cleans up after Chuuya + 1 time he doesn’t bother

The 5 Elements of an Apology by artemisiatea (Teen and Up Audiences, 6k) in which dazai learns that change is hard, but accountability is harder

Tea Over Rice by the_most_happy (Teen and Up Audiences, 8k) “Oi, Dazai— what would people say if they saw us?” Dazai gave him a puzzled look. “That we’re happy,” he answered. He made it sound simple; he made it sound pure. “They would say we’re happy.” They never stopped being Double Black — just different clothes and less blood on their hands. [Or: What if Dazai and Chuuya escaped the Port Mafia together?]

Lost All Judgement by todxrxki (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k) “Uh, sorry, but unfortunately I already have a date to the dance.” “Oh, really?” Tachihara says, sounding disappointed. He pauses for a second, clearly processing what Chuuya’s just told him, and then says, “Who is it?” Chuuya certainly hadn’t budgeted for this. Panicking, he tries to think of the people that he knows that are single, and before he knows it, the first name that comes to mind is slipping out of his mouth. “With Dazai.” / After a momentary lapse in judgment, high school student Chuuya ends up having to pretend to date his enemy Dazai to get Tachihara off of his back - and quickly finds it's nowhere as bad as he'd imagined.

oh darling it's alarming to think of us apart (you know you've got me in your pocket) by interludewings (Teen and Up Audiences, 20k) “Okay so if we’re both still single when we’re twenty two,” Dazai’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s marry each other.” By the time Chuuya’s twenty two, he’d probably be in a relationship with someone else, and the possibilities of them even remembering each other were slim to none. And so, Chuuya gave his answer. “Fine, let’s do that.” In short, fifteen year olds Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya made a stupid promise one day in their school library out of boredom, which leads to the next seven years of their life filled with fighting, burnt notebooks and late night conversations.

The Undercover Mission by OldSauk411 (Teen and Up Audiences, 16k) It all started when Atsushi was sent to drop off some papers that the Port Mafia had let them borrow. That was when he saw her, the woman with orange hair and blue eyes standing in the Port Mafia's hallways and talking. She was beautiful if he was being honest. However, after he left, he forgot about her- at least until a few months later, when the ADA and the Port Mafia teamed up for an undercover mission. One that was led by said 'woman'. Aka, Chuuya Nakahara. _____ Or: Atsushi sees a woman from a distance and thinks she's beautiful, up until the Port Mafia and the ADA team up for an undercover mission and it's revealed that the woman was actually Chuuya Nakahara.

Nothing but your spine by osamuchuu (Mature, 6k) “Oi, Dazai. We’re here.” Chuuya reached into the car to shake Dazai’s shoulders a bit, rearranging his coat to lay over the man’s back. Dazai swayed and blinked up at him. Whatever painkillers he’d been given had stolen the sharpness from his face. Dazai looked fifteen again, wide-eyed and vulnerable. And then he smiled. He smiled and Chuuya’s heart stuttered because it was so fucking real, so small and different from all the painted faces he wore now. This was dangerous.

strange loyalties by finalizer @tarmairons (Mature, 13k) “The Agency dorms are being fumigated,” Dazai explained cheerfully. “So, I offered—Atsushi can stay with us.” Or: Atsushi's observations from inside Yokohama's strangest household.

[sidenote: this is actually a sequel fic and while i loved the first one, this one really just took me to a whole other plane of existence which is why it's the one on the rec list. i do also rec the first one though!]

Yokohama public High School- almost as crazy as their pep rallies by BlowingYourMind (General Audiences, 20k) "The slacks! They're way too tight on him! Exactly no teachers ass should be like that, the students may be offended-" "Dazai, I think you're the only one that notices, and maybe refrain from eyeing up your co-workers like that-" "But how can I not!" Dazai huffed "It's right there in front of my face, it's hideous!" Oda sighed. he was just an average man with an average job gaining an average salary, but he would need to find a way to help Dazai and his obvious crush on Chuuya Nakahara before he lost his sanity. Or The story of how Chemistry teacher Dazai Osamu fell helplessly for coach Nakahara Chuuya, and the student body's many attempts to get them together.

If you refuse to listen I'll say it twice, love of my life by olympiansally @olympiansally (Mature, 15k) There’s Atsushi, Dazai’s star pupil. There’s Fyodor, arguably Dazai’s soulmate, a single mind in two bodies. There’s Kunikida, Dazai’s partner. There’s Oda, the reason Dazai wants to live. And then there’s Chuuya. If he asked Dazai to define him, to name his purpose, Chuuya already knows what he would hear. Chuuya is his dog, Chuuya is a slug, Chuuya is a chibi. And sure, maybe he is. But none of that is enough. Or, Chuuya can’t figure out what he means to Dazai exactly, but if he would only listen, he would realize that Dazai has been telling him all along.

In the throes of Corruption by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 7k) Dazai’s ability ‘No longer human’ ironically made Chuuya human. It stripped him of the god that set his insides to flame and wreaked havoc. Corruption was terrible to Chuuya but Dazai’s touch never was. Or Five times Dazai helps Chuuya through the throes of Corruption.

hide the truth by writingfromtheshadows (Not Rated, 24k) When Chuuya wakes up in the middle of an ongoing fight without any memory of how he got there or what happened to him, he ends up turning to someone saved as 'bandage-waster' in his phone. Somehow, it just feels like the right decision.

Dream a little dream of me by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k) "What would you like to dream of, Chuuya?" Dazai asked, and his partner shifted in the bed before settling down. "I dunno idiot, you pick." Dazai hummed, "I believe I can arrange that." Chuuya's eyelashes fluttered against Dazai's palm as Dazai continued to speak, voice turning into a whisper as he spoke late into the night. Or Chuuya can't dream, and Dazai has a soloution that quickly turns into a routine between the two of them.

Multichapter fics (all complete)

in the mirror, i bloom by ephemeralis (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k, 2/2) It twists him, turns him, curls in his chest like something alive, something he knows but can’t dare to name. Chuuya curses the red-black petals that fall from his lips, these nearly rotten things that tear him apart from the inside out. Part of him wants to rip his own traitorous heart out, through a ribcage shattered by feelings he can’t contain. Anger is easy, a thing he’s learned to control. This— whatever the hell this is— is not. Or at least it’s easier to feel as though this is beyond his own control, because Chuuya is not in love. (It feels like a lie even to himself.) After he's hit by a strange ability, Chuuya is forced to consider truths he'd much rather keep hidden- but not everything is as simple it seems.

[sidenote: this was the first bsd fic i ever read and HOOOOLLY CRAP what a beautiful way to join the fandom. i've reread this fic several times since. stunning.]

where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows (Explicit, 163k, 20/20) Loyalty is the foundation of the yakuza code, something that was drilled into Chuuya at an early age. However, his lessons did not cover how to manage a political marriage with his organization's oldest rival.

Inseparable by milwritsecausewhynot (Teen and Up Audiences, 107k, 21/21) Best friends is too simple a term to squash the entire dynamic of Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya within. Sure, they’ve known each other since they were children, and they’re each other’s #1 on their best friend lists on Snapchat, and Chuuya’s been seen one too many times in his hoodies. People have also noticed how Dazai’s main muse for his volunteer hobby of polaroid photographer is the redhead himself. But the pranks they pull on each other isn’t much of a ‘best friend’ thing to do. Especially when one of the pranks get pulled so far, That Chuuya is forbidden from seeing Dazai ever again. And though he sees no good coming from such a forced separation, the one thing that can enhance their futures together is propelled forward at a faster speed than either of them could have ever imagined: Coming to terms with their unusual feelings for each other.

Do I Get My Worthless Reward Yet? by World_Ender22 (Teen and Up Audiences, 40k, 10/10) Chuuya has always been certain of two things: he is going to die young, and it will be Corruption that kills him. So when the Boss orders him to use his Corrupted form without an out, he is neither surprised nor distressed. He simply does what he's told. When Dazai learns that the whole thing is a ploy to make him rejoin the Mafia, he plans to beat Mori at his own game... starting with convincing Chuuya to join the Armed Detective Agency. / Soukoku

When I Awake by wildflowertea @wildflowerteas (Mature, 235k, 23/23) Dazai Osamu has been in a coma for exactly one year, seven months, and twenty-two days. But Death still refuses to take him. Trapped in the space between worlds, and unable to die, Dazai waits, killing what precious time he may have left and hoping—praying—that his family will pull the plug and move on. He doesn't expect someone to move into his old apartment instead. Nakahara Chuuya, two-time Grammy awards winner, and freshly unemployed pessimist, has never believed in fate—much less the supernatural. But the lively—if a bit annoying—ghost of his apartment's previous tenant, might just change everything.

hopelessly devoted by soukocacola (Explicit, 188k, 18/18) "Get your grades up." Oda tells him. "Then we'll talk." Well, Dazai thinks. If he's going to be miserable, the least he can do is make Chuuya miserable, too. Maybe then Chuuya will ditch him and Dazai can fail out of college with no regrets.

His Prized Experiment by fauxtales @fauxfroot (Mature, 94k, 18/18) "As terrifying as it could be, there was something just so freeing in using Corruption. It is, after all, his strongest state. No one can harm him when he uses Corruption; he is all but invincible. There are days when he lets himself dream. There is the part of him wondering if that’s just the god or his instincts trying to convince him to unleash pure chaos and destruction on the world, but that thought is easy enough to push away. He has no control in that state after all." As a teenager, Chuuya is subjected to experiments at Mori's hand in an attempt to find a way to control Corruption. Now, years later, Mori has decided it's time to revisit the experiments. Dazai is having none of it. But can they really leave their entire life behind?

death offers no absolution by Zairielon (Mature, 62k, 10/10) After so many years in the Port Mafia, Chuuya thought he couldn't be phased by anything - that he had carried out the worst orders that would ever be given to him. Then he sees things he never saw before. He sees horror, cruelty, needless suffering. He sees death in every step he takes. Chuuya is only human, too. Eventually, he breaks. OR, Chuuya leaves the Port Mafia and attempts to escape his bloodstained past.

from a to o, i love you so by anticide @anticidic (Explicit, 22k, 3/3) Here they were dancing a dangerous tango and crossing lines and blurring boundaries that neither Fukuzawa nor Mori would take kindly to. Dazai was supposed to have gotten over Chuuya, not melted in his embrace and bound them together for an eternity. (Or: Dazai and Chuuya's unconventional relationship sparks a radical change within Dazai when he wakes up one day under the weather and feeling very, very off.)

My Body is Your Body (I Won't Tell Anybody) by thereweregiants (Explicit, 26k, 2/2) Thanks to a rogue ability user, Dazai and Chuuya find themselves switching bodies. ...yeah, there's no way this ends well.

Mission - Entrancing Armed Detective Agency by cocktailjjrs (Teen and Up Audiences, 105k, 12/12) “Charming? Have you finally started dreaming now?” Dazai turned to face his longtime partner again “Say what you want, asshole, but people like me better anyway” Chuuya ignored the jab at his lack of dreams, only shrugging in response. “I can bet anything in this world that you can’t be liked by everyone. Your efforts will be fruitless by the end of the day” “Wanna bet?” Chuuya smirked “You’re on!” Dazai returned the smirk “I’ll tell you who your target will be” . . . In which, Dazai and Chuuya are upto their old shenanigans and make a bet. As a result - Bonds are formed, secrets are revealed, money is spent, devious plans are concatenated; someone gets drugged, someone gets punched, someone gets a wakeup slap. And Chuuya's 'brute' image is at imminent risk. All of this - to with the bet!

Prey to Your Instincts by skylorr (Mature, 98k, 8/8) He was a beta. He was normal. Barely any scent, no cycles, no mating instincts. Just plain old normal. At least, that’s what he thought. He thought he was normal. But instead, Dazai is currently curled up on his single mattress in the shipping container that he calls home as he sweats profusely and struggles through cramps, pains, and the desire to nest. His mattress has a single thin blanket, which apparently does not satisfy the omega instincts trying to claw their way out of his mind. He was so close, too; days away from his 17th birthday, the birthday that would have officially made him a beta. Hope is a killer disease.

[sidenote: there is also a sequel to this fic that i recommend just as much! it's still a WIP <3]

Illustrations of Lying by writingfromtheshadows (Mature, 49k, 20/20) It is more difficult, perhaps, to bear with fortitude the little daily trails of life, than great calamities, because we summon up all our spiritual and moral strength to resist the latter... Upon faced with the culmination of Mori's plan, Dazai does not go to Odasaku's side. Instead, he relieves Mori of his duties.

i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer @neonganymede (Mature, 75k, 7/7) What a shitty way to die.... Less than forty-eight hours ago, they’d been impaled together, and Chuuya had feared that the broken metal pole had pinned him in place against a corpse. Now, he worried that a corpse sat next to him, nothing more than a poorly-crafted imitation of his ex-partner. ... And what an even shittier situation to be stuck in. Or, A mission goes wrong, and Soukoku die together. Except, they don't, but now they're stuck in a safe house pretending that they did. And if Chuuya wants to find out what went wrong with Dazai's plan, he'll first have to find a way around the wall of silence that his former partner has built to keep him out.

Cigarette Game by chowderpuff (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k, 2/2) Chuuya has a crush on Dazai. Dazai knows this, and he thinks it’s a prime opportunity to mess with his partner a little. After all, why not? Chuuya’s reactions to his flirting are priceless, a new little bonus feature to the game between them, and Dazai actually starts to find it more entertaining than outright arguing. It’s all harmless fun until Dazai realizes that he has feelings too. Then it's decidedly not.

[ author's tumblrs are tagged when i could find them! if you know one who wasn't tagged or if you're an author and would like to be untagged, let me know! ]

#29 fics total jfc ksdhgkshdgkhsdgkh #so yep i definitely could do more of these and i probably will <3 but not for a good minute cus this took me like 2 hours #i love spreading the love and sharing my fave fics and there are sooo many and i didn't want to make this much longer #but anyway!!!#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #ficrec #fic rec list #fic rec #skk #soukoku #dazai x chuuya #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #shh ac

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miscfandomwrites · 4 months ago

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A/N: This is from about two years ago, from my old account. I know this was requested by someone yet I don't have anything saved for a name besides 'anon' so. There's not much to this but figured I'd post it anyways.

Pairing: Avengers x Widow! Reader

Warnings: Flashbacks, food based and major trust issues, reader self-isolates from everyone, everyone is kinda mean, natasha and yelena nearly kill half the avengers, language, angst, fluff(ish) ending

Words: 1.4k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

Summary: Reader escaped the red room with more than just physical scars. At Fury’s request she joined the Avengers for ‘Rehabilitation’ back into society, which led to an awful prank played on her that caused her to lose all trust with them. She hasn’t met Natasha or Yelena yet as they’ve been away on a deep undercover mission..but once they return and learn what has been going on with the reader and the team, and what it’s making the reader relive through, all hell breaks loose.

~~ “It’s a cinnamon poptart, not the blueberry one, I swear by it.” Thor told me as I held the shiny silver package in my hands, debating on whether or not to open it. I was reminded back to last week, when Clint tried the same thing on me. I glanced back up at the god-and he was giving me the puppy dog eyes.

There was a history of the avengers giving me the wrong food. It started out as a joke that made me physically sick enough to the point where I couldn’t eat for almost a week because of it and turned into a joke for them. Well, it wasn’t a joke for me.

I sighed, glancing at the generic wrapper which didn’t tell me shit about what flavour it was. Looked back at Thor and his puppy dog eyes and decided that maybe it was worth a try.

Of course, when I tear open the package it’s the blueberry one. I stared at it for a good minute or so as Sam and Bucky started losing it at my deadpan facial expression, and I just dropped the poptart on the table and turned on my heel and walked away, trying not to remember what happened and blocking out my brain from trying to kill me again.

Steady walking turned into a fast-paced stride, which turned into a jog, then into a full on sprint. I had no idea where the hell I was going, I was too far into my head to tell beyond me descending the back staircase down several flights of stairs. I kept going down,

Down,

Until I hit a wall, and realized I was at the very bottom of the tower. I didn’t even know that there even was a bottom to the tower until now…and knowing already that it had almost two dozen floors, and the kitchen was almost at the direct top…

I must’ve ran down at least ten or maybe even fifteen flights…

My head was still spinning as I leaned against the wall, the sweat from my body making my clothes stick to me and my legs started to shake slightly. Being a supersoldier had its benefits when it came to fights and physical activity, but even then it had its limits.

My breathing came hard and fast, and I closed my eyes tightly as I turned around, pressing my back against the cold, solidness of the concrete wall and slid down until I could rest my arms on my knees and sucked in one breath, held it for seven seconds, then slowly breathed out through my mouth for ten. I kept repeating the pattern, six, seven, ten, until everything stopped spinning and I felt less light headed.

I don’t know how long I was down there, and only took my head off my arms to answer my phone’s consistent buzzing, alerting me to a call. I slid it from my pocking, wincing at the slight protest of my muscles and the phone screen that was still slightly slick from my sweat. I wiped it off on my pant leg and answered it, not bothering to check the contact info.

“Agent (L/N), please do inform me why you are not present at the meeting right now.” a deep voice which I recognized as Fury’s sounded through the speaker. Shit. Meeting. That must mean…

It was six in the evening-I’d left the kitchen around two-

I have been down here for four hours.

I quickly scrambled up, heading to the elevators and pushed the up button as I told Fury I’d be there in less then ten minutes and ended the call. The elevator shot up to my floor as I sniffed my shirt, smelling the sweat and slight mustyness of the basement on it. My body smelled physically fine, but my clothes reeked. Still need deodorant however.

Once on my floor I quickly threw off my clothes as I rushed into my room, grabbing some of the first clothes I saw and changing into them then heading to the bathroom to look semi-presentable. While sure, it probably wasn’t necessary for me to ‘freshen up’ I didn’t want any comments about my appearance or smell, better yet I didn’t want any mention of me and didn’t know why Fury was bothering me to join the avengers since I wasn’t a ‘main’ member.

I finished getting presentable and glanced at what I was wearing, a pair of grey faded jeans that I tucked a black tshirt into and had pulled on my olive green converse, and right before I left my bedroom I grabbed my green button up jacket and slid it on, hoping it’d pair better with the shoes. Thankfully I left my bow gloves on the small bookcase next to the elevator and decided to get those on a whim as I rushed into the elevator and told FRIDAY to take me to the meeting floor.

I pulled my hair up into a slightly messy bun and called it good, soothing any wrinkles and tucking in my shirt more and just fidgeting with my clothes in general.

The avengers, or at least the ones who I’ve seen since I started living in the tower-Thor, Sam, Bucky, Tony, Steve, Bruce, Peter, and a few others whose names I didn’t bother to remember, I did not trust at all. And that was putting it lightly. Ever since the incident when I first started living here-which was not my choice mind you, Fury told me to live here so here I am-I tried my best in avoiding them at all costs. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck one on one with any one of them…especially the males.

Natasha and her sister, Yelena, have been on a almost eight month mission and I haven’t met them yet, but there was one thing the three of us had in common: The red room.

Memories I’d rather not remember were thankfully interrupted by FRIDAY chiming at me and opening the door of the elevator, and I walked out into the conference / meeting room.

“Look what the cat dragged in, finally.” Tony stated as I walked to the meeting table, taking a seat at the end of it. I glanced around noticing two new faces-females, and from the red and yellow hair I guess Natasha and Yelena.

“Took you long enough.” Steve glared at me as I tried to remain indifferent.

I did notice both Yelena and Natasha stiffen when they saw me, and even more so when they saw my slight reaction to their comments. I didn’t bother introducing myself, figuring they probably damn remember who I was.

Of course, I had a different nickname in the room, but those days were long gone.

Fury nodded at me and explained what the two had dug up from their reconnaissance mission, explaining how there was a series of various drug cartels that had access to a substance that not only was highly illegal, but magical in nature.

I turned out during the last half of it, upon hearing Sam and Bucky having their heads together and snickering, occasionally glancing my way. At some point I heard whispers of what would happen if they caught me alone, and at that point I was done-black creeped on the edge of my vision as I rolled the chair back and I remembered that I hadn’t eaten in awhile. Suddenly a loud slam echoed through the room, caused by Natasha slamming her hand on the table, standing up.

“Will you two shut the fuck up before I decide to kill you?”

I stared in shock as she glared at Sam and Bucky, Yelena also standing with her, glaring and had a knife palmed in her hand already.

“You have no fucking idea what it was like for her, for us going through that room and all you’ve been doing is making her fucking miserable. I’ve been getting reports on what you two’ She turned and glanced around the entire team at this ‘on what everyone has been doing to her. You’re lucky I was too deep into the mission or I would’ve come here sooner.” She turned to Fury and he nodded at her, and then spoke up.

“Natasha and Yelena will be taking care of the black listed missions from now on, and they will be taking care of miss (L/N) as well. Upon their wishes, they are no longer a part of this team.”

Both the girls turned to me, Yelena sliding her knife away and Natasha holding out a hand to me.

“Come on, Серебряная Лиса, we’ve got you.”

We’ve got you.

(Silver fox)

#miscfandomwrites #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #marvel #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #Yelena x reader #yelena belova

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stupittmoran · 1 year ago

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In 1992 a man that had no record of violence whatsoever was approached and entrapped by the feds illegally.

After he was sent the wrong court date and failed to show up, his innocent son, dog, and wife (while holding their infant daughter) were all slaughtered because of it.

Randy Weaver and his family lived in an isolated cabin in the mountains of Ruby Ridge, Idaho.

An undercover federal agent targeted him and entrapped him into selling him a sawed-off shotgun.

The agent ingratiated himself to Weaver for weeks. He kept asking Weaver if he would sell him a shotgun. Weaver initially hesitated but finally agreed. Then, the agent asked him if he could saw it off first since he didn't have the tools. Though he warned FBI guy it was illegal to do so, he was nice enough to do it anyway. The agent then also had him drive out of the way across State lines to add charges.

After Weaver was sent the wrong court date and (understandably) failed to show up, the feds used this as permission to do anything and everything they could to take him down.

Marshals called in military aerial reconnaissance and had photos studied by the Defense Mapping Agency. They prowled the woods around Weaver’s cabin with night-vision equipment. They had psychological profiles performed and installed $130,000 worth of long-range solar-powered spy cameras. They intercepted the Weavers’ mail. They even knew the menstrual cycle of Weaver’s teenage daughter, and planned an arrest scenario around it.

On August 21, Marshals outfitted in full camouflage and carrying machine guns trespassed onto the Weavers’ property. Three marshals circled close to the Weaver cabin and threw rocks to provoke the Weavers’ dogs. As Weaver’s 14-year old son, Sammy, and Kevin Harris, a family friend, ran towards the barking, a marshal shot and killed his dog. Sammy Weaver fired in the direction those shots came from. As he was leaving the scene, a marshal shot him in the back and killed him. Harris responded by fatally shooting a federal marshal who had fired seven shots at them.

Snipers from the FBI Hostage Rescue Team were sent in the next day and ordered to shoot to kill any adult male outside the Weaver cabin. Randy Weaver was shot in the back after he stepped out of his cabin. As he struggled to return back inside, they shot and killed Vicki Weaver (his wife), who was standing in the cabin door holding their 10-month old baby.

From the testimony of Randy Weaver: "On August 22, 1992, completely without warning of any kind, an FBI sniper shot and killed my wife, Vicki. He was using a .308 caliber sniper rifle with a specially weighted barrel and a 10-power scope. He was using match grade ammunition. He had years of training to kill. I heard him testify at the trial that he wanted to kill. He shot my wife in the head and killed her. She was not wanted for any crime. There were no warrants for her arrest. At the time she was gunned down, she was helpless. She was standing in the doorway of her home. She was holding the door open for me and Sara and for Kevin Harris. She was holding Elishe a our 10-month-old baby girl, in her arms. As the bullet crashed through her head, she slumped to her knees, holding Elisheba tightly so she would not drop her. We took the baby from her as she lay dead and bleeding on our kitchen floor."

Weaver and Harris, who never fired any shots at FBI agents, surrendered after an 11-day siege.

Thankfully after all of this was said and done, the FBI conducted an "internal investigation" and guess what? They did nothing wrong. SHOCKER.

Randy Weaver and his daughters filed a wrongful death suit for $200 million which was related to the killing of his wife and son. In an out-of-court settlement in August 1995, the federal government awarded Randy Weaver $100,000 and it also awarded $1 million to each of his three daughters.

The government did not admit that it had committed any wrongdoing in relation to the deaths of Sammy and Vicki.

The moral of the story is, if the government wants to kill you, they'll find a way to do it. They are not your friend. They do not have your best interests at heart.

If you are an enemy of the state, if they don't like you, the Constitution seemingly doesn't apply.

These federal agencies (FBI, CIA, ATF, USMS, etc.) Do whatever they want, stay in power indefinitely, and have effectively unlimited funds. Not only should they be defunded, they should be abolished entirely. They do nothing but make us less safe and are wholly incompatible with a free society.

The fact that people want to give the government more power, more control, and take away our means of defense (gun control) is absolutely beyond me. If they could pull this off in the 90's they can do it now. I assure you.

Never give up your guns. Your government will kill you.

Dylan Allman on Twitter/X

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wingdingery · 7 months ago

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ohhhh i always have requests! quite fond of lil drabble ideas: bruce teaching dick to dance and (years later when they’re together) they recreating some of their first dances, slade being the one to gift dick his first leather jacket that he still regularly wears, An Event Occurs and in the aftermath dick realizes how irreplaceable he is to bruce and just how much bruce both loves him and needs him, bruce and dick’s undercover aliases that keep getting more and more romantic over the years

In Dick’s experience, returning to his apartment after a week away and finding a mysterious box on the coffee table that was definitely not there when he left is, usually, not actually a big deal.

He’s still careful—the little Batman that lives in the back of his head would never give him a moment of peace if he wasn’t—but he’s just very aware of the fact that, nine times out of ten, the not-so-little Batman is the one breaking in and leaving little treats for him to find later, because Bruce is deathly allergic to seeing people’s reactions to his gifts in real-time.

Dick runs through the standard checks, but nothing sounds or smells off, and nothing pings as suspicious on infrared or the particulate detector. He steps closer to inspect the box. It’s rectangular, all white, and generally unremarkable except for the fact that he didn’t put it there.

Carefully, he lifts the lid. He’s expecting some kind of gear—it wouldn’t be the first time a new suit or toys showed up unannounced.

What he finds is a leather moto jacket.

He gently lifts it out of the box and stares at it, bemused. It’s very nice—genuine Italian leather by the feel of it, black with silver hardware and diagonal pockets in the shape of a V, and just his size. There’s no note of any kind, but when he sniffs the leather, he also gets a whiff of maple and gun oil—and that feels like a signature in and of itself.

Dick pulls out his phone, dials in the number from memory, and sinks into the couch as it rings.

“Happy birthday,” Slade says when he picks up, voice low and rumbling.

Dick suppresses a smile. “You’re late.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

Dick bites the inside of his cheek and fiddles with the zipper of the jacket. They’ve been getting along all right ever since they’d been forced to team up on the cruise ship from hell, but still, a little plausible deniability goes a long way, between them. “How long ‘til I find out on my own?”

“Now that depends,” Slade says, drawing out the words. “You still talking to Rose?”

Dick blinks. “You were visiting Rose?”

“Something like that.”

“She shut the door in your face,” Dick guesses.

Slade grunts. “We can meet not at her apartment.”

“And she’s moving?”

“And she’s moving.” Slade doesn’t sound particularly annoyed about it, but then again, finding people who don’t want to be found is basically his job. Dick makes a mental note to see if Rose wants a hand making her dad’s life harder.

“So why the jacket?” Dick says, running his hand over the leather. It really is nice. He wonders where Slade got it, and whether it was paid for in money or blood. He probably doesn’t want to know.

“You complained I made you ruin yours,” Slade says. “Reckon we’re square now.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, even though Slade can’t see it. “I don’t remember doing that, but if I did, it had to have been, what… seven years ago? At least?”

“I’ve got a long memory.” It sounds vaguely like a threat, in Slade’s voice, but the jacket itself seems far from one, so Dick lets it pass.

“If you’re trying to make up for that,” Dick says, “then you’re really late.”

“You’d’ve thrown it straight in the trash if I ever tried before.”

“I could still do that.”

“You won’t.”

“Well, now I have to.”

Slade scoffs. “Go ahead. Would be a waste of perfectly good leather, though.”

The desire for knowledge wins out. “Where’d you get it?”

“Made it.”

Dick pauses, uncertain he’d heard correctly. When Slade doesn’t elaborate, though, Dick echoes, uncertainly, “Made it?”

“Wintergreen helped some.”

Dick opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Made it?

“Who exactly did you think made my first few costumes?” Slade says, sounding amused. “Not all of us have your daddy’s resources.”

It’s one thing for Slade to have bought him something; Dick can explain that away as just a whim—an act of opportunity, as it were. But Slade spending the time and energy to make it himself?

That’s premeditation.

“This isn’t a birthday gift.”

“I said happy birthday, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t just a birthday gift,” Dick presses.

Slade doesn’t respond, and Dick lets the silence stretch far past the point of discomfort. Still, neither of them hangs up. Slade may be a stubborn asshole, but Dick has been trained in the art of silence-offs by the most frustratingly stoic of them all.

Dick smooths out the collar of the jacket and straightens out the arms while he waits. Now that he’s looking closer, he can tell the seams aren’t the tidy stitches of a lifelong craftsman, but it’s impressive work, all the same. Work that must have taken a hell of a lot of effort.

Finally, Slade breaks the rhythm of quiet breathing. “Whatever it is,” he says, “it’s yours now. Throw it in the trash if you want. Or don’t. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

It has everything to do with Slade, but the fact that Slade is insisting so hard that it doesn’t is both a little funny and extremely sad. Dick can recognize a fear of rejection when he hears it.

Dick puts a hand on top of the jacket. “It doesn’t really make sense to give me this,” he says, “if you’re never going to see me wear it.”

Slade is silent for a moment, but not as long as before. “I’ve got time,” he says, slowly, like he’s leaving space for Dick to cut him off between one word and the next. “Two weeks from now.”

“Two weeks,” Dick agrees. “I assume you don’t need the address.”

“Think I’ve got it.” Slade’s voice is dry, but lacking its usual knife-sharp edge. “See you soon, kid.”

He hangs up before Dick can respond.

Dick smiles anyway. “See you soon.”

----

Footnote: RIP Dick's expensive jacket (this is $300 in 80s money)

#sladick #prompt fics #had to stop fiddling with this and set it free since it was just meant to be the equivalent of a warmup sketch #my perfectionist instincts will be the end of me

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adrixivy · 27 days ago

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Headcanon that Peter is the reason if missions go well or not and it all depends if he opened his mouth or not. I’m simply saying that he would somehow run his mouth and villains are on his ass immediately and not because of his parker luck. That does worse things. Peter always gotta say something or he just happened to somehow cause more chaos than it already did when he says something and he doesn’t even mean to say it. And the team either enjoys it or are in a manic state of panic.

The Avengers are on a mission to infiltrate one of the last remaining Hydra bases. And they need to be undercover for this. Like really stealthy and quiet. They want to gather information about the last few bases and what other information are left in Hydra that wasn’t already leaked. So imagine how surprised Tony and Steve is to be walking and then simply watch a body fly past them as said flying body screams. Tony looked over and groans and Steve sighs deeply.

Peter, who was stopped by a giant that didn’t recognize him and asked if he was new in Russian and tried speaking the little Russian Nat taught him and said something entirely different: You’re built like one of those ugly giants in that one show- (he tried to compliment the guy’s huge build to distract him but it was backfired)

Said giant growls and smacked him, making him fly back and hit a wall ten feet away with a groan. And the whole mission is already compromised within 15 minutes. 15!

The two adults rushed to him and helped him up and already three of the Avengers are compromised and soon the Hulk is out smashing through goons, Thor landed right outside the base without a care about stealth and is hitting people with his hammer and thunder crackles in the snowy habitat, making alarms sound off and the whole Avengers are simply compromised.

Peter and Tony is suited up in their nano-tech suit whereas Steve took out his shield that was shrunk and enlarged it with some Pym particles that was gifted to them from Scott. The team was quickly surrounded by all the men in the base and Peter smiled sheepishly at Tony who rolled his eyes. Armed men are charging at them with war cries yet Peter can't help but not stay quiet as his pop culture references came out.

Peter fighting the giant that flung him earlier: Hey big guy, what you did was not nice! I'm not some Roblox ragdoll for you to throw around!

Peter after webbing up the giant and fighting alongside Tony and Steve: Don't you think we're like the four horseman in Now You See me 2? Just that we're seven people! We get compromised but in the end, the odds are in our favor!

Tony, having seen the movie with Peter before and understood the references, couldn't help but grin: I guess kid.

Steve, incredibly confused: The four what now??

Soon, the base was taken over and Natasha and Clint managed to get their objectives and they all return home. And it's an incredibly hilarious experience to them now.

Now imagine, it being entirely opposite. They're in a open battle, full on repulsors shooting beams everywhere, Steve's shield thrown around and knocking out enemies, punches and kicks thrown, arrows flying, thunder cracks loudly in the sky as a hammer flies through mobs. It all seems quite loud to anyone else but the Avengers find it quiet. Too quiet. Like something or someone is missing. And they don't even realise in the midst of it. And the mission even ends well. And Rhodey is here too and he's always the first to realise and Tony's second.

Bruce who oversaw everything that happened in the mission: Today went well!

Steve, genuinely surprised too: Yeah. Surprisingly.

Rhodey, realising something is missing: Surprisingly quiet, you mean. Now I just realised, the whole battle was quiet. Tones, you thinking what I'm thinking.

Tony, hand placed up to stop everyone from talking as if hearing for something and his hand immediately dropped and his eyes are widened in terror when he doesn't hear what he was searching for: Where's the kid.

And the whole Avengers are panicking, everyone immediately dispersed and they're all looking for him.

Imagine Tony's relief when he saw Peter playing with puppies on top of a roof. (Peter saved three puppies and was about to leave them on the roof away from danger and leap back into the battle but the puppies cried out for him and he immediately melted and stayed there the entire time, playing with them as the sounds of destruction did nothing to pull him out of the puppies grasp)

Needless to say, the Avengers returned with three puppies that day.

Inspired by a post from irondadapiderson4ever!

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years ago

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Holy Orders [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (17) Loki is working undercover as a priest in Rome. Ecumenical eroticism ensues. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Heresy. Smuttish. Latin. Priest!Loki. Language. (w/c 3.6k)

The door of your holiday apartment slammed behind you, cursing as you stumbled down a tiny step directly onto the cobbled street. It had been three weeks since the travesty of the Renaissance Faire.

After three days, you had accepted that Loki’s attention denial was not a phase. After five, the absence of his irritating teasing had you feeling an unusually bitter disappointment.

After seven, when he had left for Rome without even a courtesy farewell, you had woken in the night wondering the unthinkable. What if Thor was right?

And after twelve, you had begrudgingly accepted that you loved him.

There was a morning buzz in the air, jostling bicycles ringing lightly as the slap of your sandals sounded lightly on the aged stone beneath your feet. You hurried across the street, trying not to be run over by a moped speeding past, blowing up the back of your sundress. Jesus Christ, you thought; heart pounding before your lips curled in a secret smile. Father Laufeyson wouldn’t like that kind of talk, you laughed to yourself as you rounded the corner and Piazza Navona came into view.

For two weeks, Loki had been working undercover in a small church tucked out of the main bustle of Rome. His home had been the same ancient streets you now walked. And you wondered as you passed the marbled carvings of roman gods hanging against the circular fountains, if he had ever thought about you.

Of course not, he’s been busy, you chided yourself, hoisting the bag strap on your shoulder. When Rogers had assigned him this mission, apparently the laughs of the team could be heard two floors below. But as it turned out, Loki could be as convincing as a priest as he could be as a heartless arsehole. Now that his information gathering was complete, you had been sent to collect the evidence. You volunteered, idiot. A seamless pass-over. In and out, Rogers had said. Fuck, should someone have told him it was me that was coming? What if he’s mad?

You turned another corner, skilfully avoiding a group of tourists buried in a map. And what if he’s not? you thought; a thrill of wild anticipation blossoming in your belly.

“The Church of Santa Maria dell'Anima…” you murmured absent-mindedly, looking up at the flat exterior of the sandy coloured stone building.

As far as Roman churches went, it wasn’t a big draw - favoured more by the faithful local residents than photo-happy tourists. Perfect for a Hydra Vatican infiltration ring, you thought, pursing your lips as the eager congregation filed past you up the short flight of steps to the entrance. Swirling a white shawl around your shoulders, you took a deep breath of heavy, heated air.

Morning mass was about to begin.

You slipped inside the ancient wooden doors, a waft of stale coolness tingling over your skin. The breath seemed to evaporate from your lungs as your gaze drew up, eyes scanning over the high marble pillars and bright frescos painted floor to ceiling. Warm orange and gold infused the air, the sting of spiced incense filling your nostrils. The low hum of foreign conversation echoed around the church from people filing between the wooden pews, facing the altar. And there he was.

Loki Laufeyson stood with a long wooden taper clasped gently between his fingers, re-lighting candles by the far side of the carved stone nave. Strands of waxy hair fell around his cheekbones, illuminated by a hundred flickering flames resting in the metal display.

A thick green vestment embroidered with gold hung over his body down to his calves, making him look even taller than he usually did. Pure white shirt sleeves billowed around his arms, swaying gently as he continued his intricate work unphased.

He looked deep in thought, a calm serenity bathing his sharp profile as he blew out the taper and watched the smoke waft aimlessly through speckles of swirling dust. Loki clasped his hands in front of him, flattening the luxurious fabric of his vestment against the washboard stomach you knew lay beneath.

He turned, bowing lightly towards the crucifix hanging above the altar before ascending the several low steps.

Fuuuuck, you thought; pussy suddenly throbbing. Your hand fumbled to the strap of your bag, lowering it and sliding subtly into the back row. A cold shock of wood pressed against the back of your bare knees, making you wince. When did I get so wet, you frowned; knowing exactly when, as Loki turned towards the congregation.

A bell chimed, summoning another priest from the side of the church. You drew the shawl tighter around your chest, feeling your heart thunder against the clench of your fist. A woman slid in beside you, tucking her hair nervously behind her ears before making a sign of the cross.

“Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo, Amen.” she murmured, running her wide eyes up and down the ridiculously handsome figure opening the large bible, poised behind the altar. You suddenly wondered if morning mass had always been this popular.

The low tinkle of bells echoed again as the service began. The crowd rose, fifty or so of the faithful bowing their heads as the undercover Avenger took centre stage.

He is loving this, you thought incredulously, seeing his arms rise at his sides. The drape of green and gold vestments shimmered in the light, a warm glow radiating upwards to his pale face bathed in morning bronze from the stained glass. The crowd before you sat down obediently on the lowering of his palms. You fumbled backwards, catching yourself on the edge of the long bench.

Loki’s stare ran over the congregation, covertly scanning every face like only his keen gaze could. It stopped on you, making your breath hitch. You thought you saw the tug of a smirk at the side of his lips, a glint in his eye. Or maybe it was the light.

The next twenty minutes passed in a religiously erotic blur, swathes of ceremonial chants in Italian at Loki’s command making your thighs squeeze together. Heresy, you thought; a shudder rolling down your spine as the god leant forward to kiss the gospel. I’d be burnt in the old days.

The second priest had blessedly taken over to give the sermon, the broken words you could understand not even registering as you watched Loki listen rapturously to the side in feigned interest. He knows I’m watching him, you scowled; realising that every casual smooth of his stomach, every clench of his perfect jaw was for you.

How you wanted to storm up the marbled aisle, grab his stupid fancy poncho in a fist and kiss him violently against the golden tabernacle. Might blow his cover, though; you thought, immediately thinking of what else you could blow as he gripped onto the tall candlesticks by the altar.

The vivid fantasy was broken as the congregation shuffled to a stand. The woman beside you adjusted her cleavage, shaking her hair back. Loki raised his hand. “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.” he said, the practised words of prayer a chant - that velvet voice sinking through the heavy air like double cream. Even speaking in Latin, it was irresistible.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name

Your hips shuddered back against the wooden pew, bare skin of your thighs dragging against the grain. You recognised the tempo. How could you not.

“Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.” Loki spoke slowly, eye-fucking you menacingly from the top of the raised steps behind the lecturn. His lips hovered on ‘tuum’, a fizz of unstoppable need rising in your belly as you recalled its place in the prayer.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in heaven.

Dozens of voices chimed around you, their Italian lilt making the dead language sing. But it was only his earthen tones you heard. Only him.

It had always, only been him.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut, et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris” he rumbled in baritone, tilting his head.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us

You raised your gaze to meet his, knowing it would be waiting as he stood with his large hands encasing the sides of the lectern by the altar. His eyes narrowed briefly, the subtle slant of his brows betraying his utter bemusement at your presence.

“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo.” he growled, the timbre of his voice making the woman beside you straighten. You could see her fingertips digging into the soft flesh between her knuckles, hands clasped in prayer.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

How appropriate, you mused. You watched as Loki slid the bible from its place, holding it briefly aloft and placing a kiss against the leather before lowering it to his crotch in a gentle hold.

“Amen.” he murmured, solemnly; lowering his chin.

“Amen.” came the ringing response. “Amen.” you echoed slowly, squinting thoughtfully as Loki turned and sat with a smirk.

You sat back down, questioning everything. Did you think that when he saw you it would have been any different from how it ever was? That he would somehow wordlessly communicate that he was pleased to see you? That he had missed you? That he loves me too, you scoffed painfully; flinching as the organ sprang to life.

The communion procession began with those at the front of the church, each person pausing in front of the priest to receive god’s bounty. Loki and his counterpart held the small, circular host aloft, their lips moving before placing it on the recipients tongue. Kinky, you thought; before realising the woman to your right had risen and joined the slow moving queue. Fuck.

You shuffled behind her, rolling your eyes as she fiddled nervously with her hair, smoothing and re-smoothing the same strands. Your gaze wandered to the ornate figure of Christ hanging on the cross above the altar, his limp form getting closer and closer. Don’t look at me like that, you huffed to the disappointed looking Jesus; immediately switching focus to the floor beneath your feet.

“Corpo di Cristo…” a dark voice murmured. It was tinged with weighty intentions, thick memories of feral moans of unrestrained passion in your ear flooding your mind as you fluttered your lashes upwards. Loki’s eyes betrayed none of your history, his stare glazed; the twitch of one dark eyebrow the only indicator that he ever knew you at all.

“Amen.” you whispered hoarsely, parting your lips.

He placed the host gently on your outstretched tongue. Against your better judgement, you felt your lids flicker shut, the soft graze of his fingertip smoothing against wet muscle that longed for his touch.

It lingered, the melt of the wafer beginning to slide down your throat. His wide fingertip pulled imperceptibly at your bottom lip on its withdrawal, making your eyes shoot open. Loki’s brows raised, a light furrow reminding you that there was an entire congregation at your back. You gave a small nod towards him, scurrying around the front pews and back to your seat.

You could feel the burning heat in your cheeks for the rest of the mass, ten minutes feeling like an endless vat of time. The final blessing was, in reality, swift. A few chimes, swings of incense and murmurs of reverent praise and it was done.

Loki disappeared in procession with the other priest behind a door at the back of the church in a sway of luxurious, billowing green. The stillness of the holy space washed over you as attendees left in their own time. You checked your watch. Forty-five minutes. Had that been all?

The clap of your sandals against the marble floor echoed as you walked slowly around the walls, drawn to the beauty of the figures drawn by those long dead. You traced your fingers over cracks in the face of a rather grim looking Virgin Mary. “I know how you feel…” you whispered to no-one, feeling the plaster catch beneath delicate skin.

“I very much do not think you know how she feels.”

Your hand paused on the fresco, falling to your side as you turned. Loki stood resplendent before you, the folds of his holy garment making him look more achingly irresistible than he ever had before. You felt a frown crease your forehead, pursing your lips to stop a moan. It was worse up close.

Loki leant forward, casting a conspiratorial glance towards a small group of locals loitering by the door. “-due to the fact that for one thing, she is a virgin, while you...Agent...” he smirked. Your frown deepened.

“Keep your voice down.” you hushed, glancing over your shoulder. Satisfied, you looked back to Loki, his obsidian hair curled behind delicate ears revealing the white flash of his clerical collar. The bone structure you knew so well against the curves of your body sang in the mid-morning light through the windows, every iridescent inch of his skin glowing with tantalising radiance.

“I see you still managed to wear green.” you scoffed under your breath, making the priest chuckle lightly. “It’s Ordinary Time in the church calendar, Agent. Did you not read the briefing documents? It is the standard colour for the season” he drawled quietly, giving a reverent nod to his fellow priest heading for the door and the beckon of Rome beyond.

“They really think you’re one of them?” you said, turning towards a row of candles flickering to the side. Each one represented someone loved and lost, a prayer. A hope.

“Of course." he scoffed. "Father John Lockhart on pilgrimage from England. Why would they suspect?”

You ran your eyes down the silk embroidered vestment which hid his intensely muscular body. Just. The bulge of his biceps shifted beneath the billowing sleeves making your gaze hover. “Priests aren’t usually so…”

“Yes?” he goaded, raising an eyebrow in amusement. You dropped a coin in the basket, taking a candle and fingering the wick. “You don’t seem like the type, that’s all. I’m surprised you didn’t shapeshift.”

Loki chuckled. “My dear, you clearly don’t know Catholicism. A web of mysteries and contradictions which go far beyond their lore-bound texts...” he said, shifting so you stood with biceps pressing against each other.

“Are you considering a change of vocation then?” you quipped, playing with the wick between your fingers. He faced the wall of candles, but you could feel the stare of his eyes roaming the sliver of skin beneath the parted shawl. “Not quite.” he muttered absent-mindedly. “The reverence and theatrics are appealing I grant you, but there is far too much celibacy for my liking.”

The ghost of his breath skated across your collarbone, the unbearably small distance between you making every nerve in your body vibrate with desire.

“What are you praying for, mio figlio?” he murmured innocently under his breath as the wick of your candle caught flame from another. My child, you thought with a grimace, recognising the taboo of unmistakeable arousal deep in your pussy.

You watched the tear-dropped fire settle from its first rage, flickering gently as it came to terms with its place in the world. Setting it down amongst the others, you turned your chin to look up at him. The blues of Loki’s irises swam with green in the shadowed alcove, the dance of the candlelight illuminating him like a bygone Saint.

“Salvation.” you whispered quietly, voice catching.

Without knowing why, you bowed your head. The god’s fingers flew gently beneath your chin, tilting it upwards once more. His eyes were wide, lips parted as he inhaled softly. “Darling, I-”

“Padre?” a voice muttered tentatively behind you.

You and Loki both turned, seeing the fidgeting figure of the woman who had been your unknowing lust-buddy all through the service.

“Sì, figlia mia?” Loki replied gently, his hands disappearing back into the draped sleeves of his robes as he clasped them together. You rolled your eyes, pivoting back towards the wall of tealit flames. The thunder of your heart was a solid beat in your ears, pounding. His smooth voice rumbled in Italian, the sweet ministrations of his undercover persona clearly honed over the past two weeks. “Grazie Padre…” you heard the woman say, a tremble in her voice; before quick footsteps echoed away from you.

Loki chuckled, resuming his position by your side. “Impure thoughts about an inappropriate figure, apparently.” he whispered, barely contained glee bursting from the confines of propriety. “Wishes to make a confession to me personally at the next session. Imagine that. I wonder who it could be.”

“You are impossible." you sighed, a wave of jealousy roaring in your belly. "I bet you’ve been very popular here in that regard.” you said through gritted teeth, trying to focus on the wavering light of your candle. Salvation.

“Always so quick to judge.” he chuckled, drawing himself stoically upwards. “My dear, I am a priest.” he said, turning to face you. His nose was inches from your forehead, the empty church feeling stifling as the air settled around you both. “I have been a beacon of chastity...and contrary to popular belief, I do take my assignments seriously.”

Slowly, you met his gaze – the sincerity in his face, unmistakeable. “I didn’t think you took anything seriously, Father.” you said, mockingly; unable to stop yourself as you watched his eyes narrow at the words.

“Don’t you mean Daddy, Agent?” he smouldered, “Or am I nothing but a memory to you now with my brief absence?”

In two quick steps from his impossibly long legs, your back was flush against the nearest wall. The curve of the low archway hung dangerously close to Loki’s full height as he loomed above you. His forearm pressed to the marble cornicing above your head, trapping you like a lamb for slaughter.

A long sleeve of forest green shielded you from the gaze of a dozen judgemental statues, the collar around his neck straining against the weight of a hard vein that bulged ominously. “Why must you always think the worst of me?” he growled, the primal sound rumbling deep in his throat hoarse and wild. Familiar burning lust bubbled uncontrollably to the surface in those beautifully dangerous eyes as his chest heaved, daring you to respond.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said, flustered as the shawl fell around your shoulders to the floor. Loki stepped closer, fingertips of the hand not affixed above your head squeezing into the flesh of your bare bicep.

“I think you know very well.” he spat, all traces of serenity gone as he blazed beneath a façade of restraint. “Why are you here? To taunt me? To parade yourself in front of me while you tease me with your endless games? Anyone else could have taken your place. Anyone.”

Your frown deepened, a deep ache blossoming in your belly as you tasted the rage on his every word. You shouldn’t have come.

“-Or am I wrong? Have you come to confess to me, darling?” he hummed goadingly, the feeling of his tips running down your aching skin making your shiver.

Sarcasm bit through his words, slicing through the intimacy of the moment. “And what better place? What better persona? Are you ready to admit your undying love for me and put this charade to an end? Or have your attentions wandered...”

A staggered breath surged in your throat as his hand traced down your cleavage, feeling your resistance falter. You could feel the swell of his hard erection through the drape of holy garb, the violence of his lust boiling beneath the shroud of theatrical consecration. The words were on the tip of your tongue- But then the game will be over for him. He will have won, you thought with a chill; And what then?

Loki’s brow furrowed, a jolt of his jaw taking you by surprise – like shaking off a fly. Whatever was in your head, he clearly didn’t want to hear it.

“And what about you…?” you managed to quiver through shaky breaths, your hands sliding tentatively over his shoulders. Loki tilted his head, confusion etched across his brow. In a brief second, you saw his bravado falter, features softening as he processed the possible meanings of your request. His tongue darted out, licking quickly over his cupid’s bow before biting his lip.

He shook his head, a solitary gasp of forced laughter gusting against your parted lips.

“I have just recalled I seem to owe you a certain...something, do I not?” he said casually, skating over his previous barbs as he tried to change the subject. You shuffled against the wall, attempting to pull him closer to you and failing. “More than one, actually.” you muttered, feeling the wet slick between your thighs grow hot. It was embarrassing how much you needed him. Above everything else, it was him.

“More than one?” Loki purred disapprovingly, tsk’ing as he raised an eyebrow. His hips dragged up your pelvis, every forbidden inch of his solid cock making you mad with need. You began to pant, as he thrust once against your torso. Creases had formed at the corner of his eyes; his outburst it seemed...forgotten.

He released the forearm from the wall above your head, a theatrical flourish of his arm making the heavy metal bolt across the doors of the church slam shut with an almighty clang.

“Here?” you gasped, feeling the embroidery of his sacred vestment scratch against your cleavage as he pressed his muscular torso against you. “But what about...you know.” You tilted your chin upwards towards the crucifix in explanation, the majesty of the surroundings somehow making you forget to whom you were pinned against.

“Don’t worry about Him, Agent…” Loki whispered, before his lips wrapped around your earlobe, sucking gently. “Mine are the only Holy Orders you shall be following today. Mine, the only sacrament your body desperately needs.” His dirty whispers hummed against your skin, falling deeper into waves of sin with each dark syllable. "Mine." he rasped quietly, the word melting against your breathy moans unheard, before fastening his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

Continued in Holy Orders: Mercy Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress @sititran @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @michelleleewise @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @filthyhiddles @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @k-writer17 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @joyful-enchantress

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imgeekgirlfan · 1 year ago

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Down The Road (F1 x Reader) SMAU Season 1

>> Down The Road 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡ Previous Part : Next Part

Taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @jpg3 , @tsukishimawhore , @minkyungseokie , @roseseraj , @bbhyuneee , @omgsuperstarg (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

A/N : I'm trying to write in time for the #QatarGP because I want the storyline in Part 2 to continue in real-time (spoiler alert: from Episode 3 onwards, there will be a one-year time skip). I hope you enjoy the racing and the fic too. If you do, don't forget to like and reblog. It's great encouragement for me, who has been sitting with a sore back at the computer for hours to write this SMAU fic

note ; age-gap, a bit of mentor/student relationship

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Season 1 : ── 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐬 ── (Lewis Hamilton x Reader) S1 : E02 𝐾-𝑝𝑜𝑝 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

Beyond the thrilling competition on the F1 track, the off-track relationships of F1 drivers have also become an exciting topic for fans. That's precisely what's happening with Y/N, a rising star in motorsport, whose relationship with Lewis Hamilton, a seven-time World Champion, is being closely watched. Is it real, or is it just a theory from fans? It's a tough question to answer definitively, as only they can shed light on the situation.

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Source : GQ Sports (On YouTube)

On this episode of "Actually Me" Formula 1 driver Y/N goes undercover on the internet and responds to real comments from fans on Twitter, Instagram, Wikipedia, Reddit, YouTube, and TikTok. How does it feel to be the only woman racing in Formula 1 today? How does she handle the pressure of competing in a male-dominated sport? Which driver is she closest to? And the most pressing question everyone wants to know : What is the true nature of her relationship with Lewis Hamilton? Are they friends, colleagues, competitors, or something more?

For this final question, she simply laughs and replies cryptically, “You guys should ask him (rather than asking me), because I’m curious too.”

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Source : Formula 1: Drive to Survive (On Netflix)

In the show “Formula 1: Drive to Survive” Lewis Hamilton finally opens up about his relationship with Y/N for the first time after it became a hot topic on Twitter world recently. Hamilton said “It’s hard to explain, but we have a very special bond because we’ve known each other for a long time,” He further defined her as the ‘special one’ in his life, yet he still remained enigmatic regarding whether their relationship contains romantic aspect or not.

Additionally, he delves into their personal closeness, mentioning that Y/N is very much a Gen Z personified, enjoying Twitter and often sending funny memes to everyone. He humorously reveals that she sometimes replies to him "OK Boomer," when he doesn't quite grasp the memes she sends.

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Source : Lewis Hamilton's Instagram Story (update)

Lewis Hamilton posted a picture of himself wearing friendship bracelets and tagging @Y/N on Instagram Story before deleting it 11 minutes after

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Source : Twitter (update)

Rumors about a romantic relationship between Y/N and Lewis Hamilton started circulating after a Twitter exchange between the two, leading fans to speculate and gather evidence suggesting they might be dating.

This wave of speculation has received both positive and negative reactions from fans. Some fans disagree with the dating rumors, while others support them. drawing parallels to the F1 version of Tom Holland and Zendaya

While the rumors have been hot topics among F1 fans on Twitter, there has been no confirmation from either Y/N or Hamilton.

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Source : Y/N’s instagram (update)

"Get in, loser We're going to do hotlap"

Y/N posted on Instagram that she will be doing a hot lap for the team's VIP guest in #QatarGP There's speculation that the guest might be a fellow racing driver like Alex, Albon, or George Russell, especially after she previously did a hot lap with Russell without any sign of Lewis Hamilton

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Source : Lewis Hamilton's instagram (update)

"Ready to go with the winner @Y/N"

Lewis Hamilton posted on Instagram, confirming that he is the VIP guest who will get a hot lap with Y/N. Followed by a massive response from fellow F1 drivers and fans who are closely watching their relationship.

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Source : Y/N and Lewis Hamilton's instagram (update)

Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have arrived at the Lusail International Circuit to prepare for the #QatarGP race tonight. The media has been informed by their respective teams that there will be no interviews or comments regarding the rumors about them. They will solely focus on their performance in this race.

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Source : @PopBase

Reportedly the famous spanish singer Úrsula attended the Formula 1 race at #QatarGP amidst fresh rumors among fans that she might be rekindling her relationship with Y/N. This comes after her recent divorce from the Hollywood actor last month.

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𝙏𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙙 (in the next chapter)

If you like it, don't forget to like and reblog for me.

Cr.https://x.com/PopBase/status/1708629114025116047?s=20https://twitter.com/GridRivalhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b025AznQiGk&ab_channel=GQSportshttps://www.instagram.com/p/CyBimW-Ocyr/

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lizzyk137 · 2 years ago

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Baby's First Undercover Op- Agent Gibbs (Gibbs X Reader)

Description: Gibbs and you go undercover to catch a criminal, only for it to get a bit steamy with Gibbs protecting you. Warnings: Mentions of- sex, trafficking, shootings, death, inappropriate touching, assault. Please do not read if anything that was mentioned above may or could be triggering!! Smut with some light kissing.

(Part 2) Want to read more. visit my Masterlist!

Gibbs reached around as he tried to grab the strap of his sling. He turned around in a circle a few times, frustrated that his hand was just out of reach. You sat at your desk watching him amused as he fumbled around.

"You won't like what I do if I catch you laughing, Y/LN." He called as he finally caught his strap, his back turned to you.

You quickly wiped the smirk off your face as he turned around and you looked at him attentively.

"What do we got?" He asked, looking at you as he strapped his sling together.

You stood up and clicked a button on the remote, the TV flashing up to your victims face. "Well, boss, it seems that our victim was part of a gentleman's club called Tate's, which sells services to politicians, head of agency departments, along with a lengthy list of millionaires. We got in touch with Emmerson. Even though he's been out of the club for a decade, he is still friends with a few people on the inside. He says there is a function this weekend where the rumored service is little girls."

"Looks like we'll be going undercover, boss?" McGee asked.

Gibbs nodded, "Not we, McGee, just me." He took a sip of his coffee as the team looked at him and then down to his arm in the sling.

"Um, wouldn't it be better to send Tony or myself in?" Ziva questioned.

"Nope."

"Why's that, boss?" When Tony got no reply, he asked another question. "With you injured, wouldn't it be easier to send someone else in just in case something happens, though I know you would be more than fine defending yourself if anything happened." Tony droned when he caught Gibbs raising his eyebrows after Tony brought up his injury.

Gibbs chuckled and then started walking away. "Y/LN, find Abby to get some IDs for this weekend."

"IDs? I thought it was just you?" You asked puzzled.

He turned around, still walking. "Yep. Need one for you and I. Ya know, since I'm injured." He waved his injured arm and then turned back around, heading to the elevator.

"Well, well, well, it looks like our baby is going to be going undercover for the first time." Tony said, looking at you with a smile. You were the baby of the team, so everyone had started calling you baby, even Gibbs.

"Yeah, but with Gibbs." McGee said, Tony's smile changing into a frown.

"Oh god, this will be interesting."

-------------------------- ~~ ----------------------------

You pulled the red satin dress down over your body, the smooth, cool fabric giving you slight goosebumps. Pushing your slightly curled hair to the side, you put on your earrings and then headed out the door back to your office chair to grab your bag and coat.

"Whoa..." You heard as you made your way to your desk. You looked up to find the team staring at you.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." Tony says.

"It's just that you look really good." Ziva said, giving you a small grin.

You looked down at your outfit. Red laced heels, red satin off the shoulder dress with a slit up the side exposing your right leg almost to your hip accessorized with a silver necklace and chunky hoop earrings that were GPS trackers that Abby gave you. You had slightly curled your hair that was waved over one shoulder.

"Let's get rolling." Gibbs called out as he brushed past you in an all black tux -no sling.

You quickly grabbed your bag and ran to the elevator. It was quiet as the elevator made its way down until Gibbs flipped the emergency off switch, haulting the elevator.

"Gibbs?"

"Name." His back still to you.

"Leslie Givens. Twenty-seven years old. Graduated from Clarkson University, majored in fashion. Own my own business down in Norfolk. Married for two years."

"Good, good." Flipping the switch, the elevator hummed alive again, and you eventually made your way out of the agency and into the car.

After a half hour of driving, you arrived at the venue to see multiple couples walking through the door. You took a shaky breath and went to head out when the door locked. You turned around to look at Gibbs questioningly. "Um, you're missing something." He pulled out a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a diamond bracelet.

Pulling it out, he locked it around your wrist. You stared down at it in shock when he cupped your face and pulled it towards him. Pushing your hair slightly to the side, he put his lips close to your ear. "Someone's watching us already." He put a finger in your ear, and you felt an ear comm slide in gently. He patted down your hair and gave you a small wink.

He opened the car door and headed over to your side to open yours. He grabbed your hand and helped you out, closing the door behind him.

You headed inside after you gave your keys to the valet and got in line with the bouncer at the front checking in names. You quickly reached the front, Gibbs putting his hand on the small of your back. "Tom Givens with Leslie Givens."

After the bouncer approves you through, Gibbs pulled you closer to him as you walked through the doors. He nodded to the bar, and you smiled as he walked over to grab a drink. You walked around the room smiling as you surveyed for anyone out of place. "Don't you look ravishing tonight." A gentleman said as you passed his table. He got up from his seat, blocking your path.

Before you could say anything, you felt a strong pair of arms circle your waist. "Doesn't she?" Gibbs voice rang out. "I'm one lucky guy, huh?" You looked up to find him smirking at the gentleman.

"Oh very. The name is Tate. I don't think we've met before." Tate reached out his hand to shake Gibbs.

"Tom Givens. This is my wife Leslie. We just moved into town. Donald Blaire is our neighbor and invited us."

"Ah, Donald! Great guy! Well, I better make sure that everything is going well since we're about to start. Find a seat and grab something to eat. Excuse me." Tate smiled brightly and shook Gibbs' hand again and gave you a wink.

Gibbs slid his hand down to yours and pulled your towards an isolated table. "Tate's our guy." He whispered as he pulled out your chair. You nodded, smiling, and took a sip of your water.

The beginning of the auction went by normally. Jewelry, cars, art, and property were the normal items up for sale.

You noticed Tate getting up out of his seat, making his way towards your table. You quickly leaned over to Gibbs and wrapped your arms around his neck, and connected your lips to his. He was shocked only for a second as his hands roamed up your body, feeling you up and kissing you back with passion. You opened your eyes as Tate passed, eyes locking, and you winked at him. He stopped for a second, smirked, and then nodded his head towards a small service door that was near the table.

A few minutes after he left, you winked at Gibbs and made your way down the hallway that the service door opened to. You tapped on your necklace to turn on the hidden camera built in, letting the team see access into the hallway.

"We're up." You heard McGee say.

"What a kiss, Y/N. Gibbs' camera gave quite a show." You heard Tony snicker in the background, and then a small slap that you figured was from Ziva.

You rolled your eyes till you made it to the end of the hallway, where it opened up to a small office. Posing seductively against the door frame, Tate smiled up at you when he noticed your presence.

He groaned when he saw you flash a bit of your lace panties, and then you made your way over to him. Your arms made their way to his chest from the back and rubbed. "I heard from Chelsie Blaire that you definitely make these nights fun." You said, lying seductively. He pushed his chair facing towards you, and you climbed on his lap, slightly grinding your pelvis against his.

You kissed and nipped his neck, allowing his disgusting hands to roam your body and pulling your dress up for you to sit more comfortably on him as he undid his zipper. "Oh baby." He muttered as you gripped his hair.

"I heard that there is something big being auctioned tonight. Is it something worth my husband's money?" You asked as you tugged his hair, making him gasp.

"Mmm, nothing I'd know of. I just help set up the venue and clients." He mutters against your skin.

"Oh?" You asked. "Well, that doesn't help me." You kneeled him in the groin and then in the head as he doubled over. Grabbing the fluffy handcuffs that were in his top desk drawer, you cuffed him to the metal pole on the wall, duct taped his mouth with what you found in his desk and made your way back down the hallway. Exiting through the service door quietly, you made your way back to your seat.

"He knows nothing. Took him out of the equation." You signed to Gibbs making him raise his eyebrows when you suddenly signed.

"Let's make our way through the back hallway." He signed back. You headed out of the venue room, and he pulled you towards him as he kissed your face and down your neck, leading you down the main hallway towards the back hallway.

Knocking into a table, Gibbs laughed as your lips disconnected. "Sorry," he called to a few employees that looked over. "I just need somewhere a little bit more private." He picked you up over his shoulder, and you flirtatiously laughed.

He walked you both down the hallway, laughing like he was a teenager in love and not hunting down a human trafficker who was also a murderer. He gently set you down and quietly walked down the hallway to a door that was slightly opened. You heard footsteps coming towards you from the room, and Gibbs swung around to push you against the wall.

He lifted you up slightly, trapping you, and you wrapped your opened leg around, him pulling him closer. He put his arm up your dress as he played with the string of your thong, and his other hand pulled down your dress slightly, exposing the top of your breast. His lips attached to yours as he grinded his hips into your hot mound, making you moan out loud against his lips as your hands pulled off his tie as you started to unbutton his shirt.

You heard a throat clear, and Gibbs pulled away and looked back to find two gentlemen staring at you, guns pointed. "What are you doing here?" One asked.

Gibbs moved his hand across your underwear line, lightly brushing over your wet clothed folds. He touched the other side of your thigh where you carried your extra gun. Your hand that was in his shirt found its way to the hidden gun in his coat.

"I asked what are you doing here." The man said.

Gibbs looked at you, then back at the men laughing. "Well, I'm just trying to find a quiet place to fuck my wife." He replied, your face turning bright red.

"Get off her and hands up. You're not supposed to be back here." The other man said, coming closer as he aimed his gun towards you.

"Yeah," Gibbs chuckled, "I don't think so." He unattached the gun from your thigh and pointed it at the man coming closer to you. A shot rang out near your head, and Gibbs pulled the trigger, taking down the man who shot as you swung the gun out of Gibbs jacket and took out the other man coming towards you, gun aimed now at Gibbs.

Setting you down on the ground and pulled up the top of your dress. "I want you guys blocking all exits and pulling everyone inside custody." He spoke into his ear comm as you both made your way into the darkened room.

You surveyed the room when you heard a grunt and something heavy drop to the ground. Quickly turning around, you saw Gibbs on the ground knocked out when you felt hands wrap around your throat from behind, their grip tightening as your gun fell to the ground. You could feel your breathing being cut off, and you took a deep breath as much as you could and then jabbed your elbow into the side of your attacker. With your other elbow, you swung it back into their diaphragm, then slammed the back of your head into your attackers face, feeling and hearing the crunch of your attackers nose connect against the back of your head.

You dived to the ground, sliding as you turned onto your back as you hoisted your gun at the attacker who was lunging at you. You lifted your leg, pushing him away from you as your hands shook in fear when you saw it was Agent Proctor, the same man who took you out to dinner the night before.

The sweet and caring guy you knew had a dark and hateful look in his eyes.

He screamed in rage as he reached for you, knocking the gun from your hands, and you watched it slide across the floor, desperately trying to move towards it. He pinned you down under him as he let out a rage filled laugh.

He held his forearm on your throat and his leg holding yours down. His hand reached for the top of your dress and exposed your chest, staring at it like a rabid animal as he kissed it. Proctor slid his hands down to the slit on your dress and reached for your underwear, and you screamed out as best as you could being choked as his fingers touched the hem of it. His fingers slid under your panties, slightly touching you, tears streaming down your face.

Suddenly, his face turned blank as a shot rang out, and his body went limp falling onto yours, and you screamed out, pushing him off of you as you crawled back into a strong pair of arms.

"Shush, you're okay now." Gibbs whispered as he rocked you back and forth. "No one will harm my baby again."

Tony and Ziva barged through the door, guns drawn to find you crying as you clung onto Gibbs.

He gently lifted you up and carried you out.

-------------------------- ~~ ----------------------------

It's been a few weeks since your undercover op, and your paperwork was being processed by the director. You had been on edge because of it, not trusting in your fellow agents, jumping at any little sound.

The team was worried about you. You had been quiet on cases, not wanting to go out to team functions. You wouldn't even go to your favourite café/bookstore with Ziva. Abby tried to get you out with her for bowling, a usual once a week destressor that you guys did.

"Y/LN, follow." Gibbs called out as his made his way to the elevator. You followed him from your desk and hopped into the elevator.

As soon as the door closed, he hit the emergency off switch and turned to look at you.

"You know, we only have one elevator in this part of the building." You said, knowing why he called you down. You nodded to his arm and laughed. "It looks like your arm has healed up pretty well, I know my weight probably didn't make it feel any better."

He just continued to stare at you.

"I know why you called me down here. I'm fine, Gibbs. I'm talking with a professional, just like the agency wants me to. I'm okay. Shook up, but okay, and with time, I will be." You crossed your arms, giving him a sad smile.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he came up to you, hesitated, and then wrapped his arms around you. You stayed like that for a few minutes before you unfolded your arms and hugged him back.

"You're the team's baby. We want to take care of you. You can always come to us if needed." Gibbs finally spoke.

You nodded, then spoke. "Thank you, I definitely will."

He took a step back and kissed the top of your head. You looked up at him, mid kiss, and he pulled back to look you in the eyes.

Gibbs looked down at your lips and licked his own, then took a step back and turned to flick the emergency off switch.

You reached out your hand and stopped him. "Gibbs..." He turned around and looked at you with a slight longing look in his eyes. You licked your lips and locked eyes with him.

It was quick, too quick to know who moved first, but you were soon wrapped up in each other's arms, lips locked in a fiery, passionate kiss.

You didn't want anyone to touch you for the past couple of weeks, but Gibbs, here now, you craved it. You want his hands everywhere, even though it was a breach of protocol, and you knew he would never want anything serious with a colleague, you still had some small amount of hope that this kiss and those touches he gave during your op, even though it was all fake, could continue.

After a few minutes, both of you pulled away to breathe, and he rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. You instinctively opened your mouth and licked his thumb. He smirked at the thought of you placing your tongue elsewhere.

You stayed like that for a little bit before he flipped the switch and the elevator doors opened, and he walked out coolly, like nothing happened.

You leaned against the back of the elevator, willing your body to pull itself together. You tugged your clothes back into place and smoothed your hair and walked out of the elevator, and went back to your desk, catching Gibbs eyes undress you as you got within his eye sight.

You sat down and stared at him above your computer screen, his phone ringing in the background as he winked at you with a small smile playing on his lips. He picked up his phone and did his usual answering response.

He shut his flip phone. He had kept his even into the digital age of smartphones. "Gear up, we got a dead Marine at Coolidge Park." He said as he started grabbing his stuff. You all headed to the elevator, Gibbs, and yourself at the back of the elevator.

You looked at him as you pushed your backpack up higher on your shoulder. He smiled and signed, 'Dinner tonight. My place. That kiss was only the beginning.'

You smiled back in response as your hand found its way to his, and you gave it a light squeeze as the elevator door dinged open. Gibbs quickly brought your hand up to his lips, giving it a small kiss before you both let your hands go as you followed the team out.

Hoped you liked this! I kind of want to make a part two of this? I don't know, I'm in the mood to figure out what Agent Gibbs would do on a date, but I'm also content with how this ended to? Idk, if any of ya'll have any ideas, let me know! I would love to do requests one day! :) Okie, byeeeeeeeeee

#ncis #ncis fandom #ncis gibbs #jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #gibbs smut #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis imagine #undercover #sign language

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mcytblrsexymen · 2 years ago

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Highlights from the Mod Chat Pt. 2

[ID: discord message from Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, reading: why are you telling me what's bumming people out on twitter]

[ID: discord message from fake GeorgeNotFound fan, reading: I saw that. First of all, who is out here saying we have principles, It has been reacted to with the Clap emoji 10 times.]

[ID: discord message replying to Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, reading: get gud, I started in he... the reply from number one howl simp reads: whats the term for skill issue but in reverse. thats u it has been reacted to with the Laugh emoji three times]

[ID: discord message from fake GeorgeNotFound fan, reading: looked at this message, went over to Spotify to type in the song I wanted to lsiten to and go halfway through typing "Wilbur soot" instead It has been reacted to with the Laugh emoji five times]

[ID: discord message from classically trained drabbler, reading: okay im getting back to voter frauding]

[ID: message from SAD GAYISMS for SEXYLAMPNAP, reading: tumblr this is a terrible message to give me because now i know i can try Homestuck01 on accounts en masse and eventually get into one an image of a tumblr alert reading "That password is known to be included in compromised password lists. Please choose something more unique."]

[ID: discord message from Fiending Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, with a picture of the GoodTimesWithScar v Technoblade poll attached. The messages read: Someone reported it for mature content I appealed]

[ID: discord message from roxxy, reading: in ither news i need you all to know i just sent a bee to hell with a hose it has been reacted to with the CryCatScream emoji six times]

[ID: discord message from a capricious and willful god, reading: doc officially won rendoc divorce]

[ID: discord message from [binaural + bisexual], reading: IS THIS HOW IT FEELS WHEN YOUR TEAM WINS THE SUPERBOWL It has been reacted to with the Laugh emoji seven times]

[ID: discord message from Fiending Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, reading: holy shit that poll was a thousand years of battle]

[ID: discord conversation: [Binaural + Bisexual]: loving the grian fans cheering for his demise SAD GAYISMS for SEXYLAMPNAP: we did it for the daily-grian mod husband even let me vote on his account i love being married the first message from sexylampnap has been reacted to 7 times with the 100 emoji]

[ID: discord from [binaural + bisexual], responding to an image from Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs: okay so here's the deal: you play stupid games you get blocked it has been reacted to once with the 100 emoji]

[ID: discord message from former leash kid, reading: i wont start shit [two "press x to doubt" reacts] promise]

[ID: discord message from VOTE FOR TECHNOBLADE, reading: Tbh I think I'm gonna rally the techno voters (all 1.5 of them who follow me) to vote for scar because our block guy deserves to get beaten by the sexyman champion it has been reacted with the 100 emoji 3 times]

[ID: discord messag from Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, reading: the siren song of infographics]

[ID: discord message from Fiendsish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, reading: instructions unclear: who? a photo of a twitter comment from loeufmf reading "I WANT THAT TWINK OBTLIRATED" is attached]

[ID: discord message from undercover weeb, reading: I'm fairly certain Wilbur would be delighted to have sexual tension with Grian it has been reacted to twice with the pointing emoji]

[ID: discord message from Fiendish Bots/Glorious SIdeblogs, reading: yeah the appropriate way to respond is "excuse me you could balance a glass of champage on this ass" it has been reacted to nine times with the Clap emoji]

[ID: discord message from classically trained drabbler, reading: he is so cute but also human cleo is disgusting and offputting to me]

[ID: discord message from roxxy, reading: this is making me emotional, weirdly and its not the q in fishnets...... Hm it has been reacted to four times with the Laugh emoji]

[ID: discord message reading: I'm seeing mcytblrsecxymen posts being blocked for the word "terf" and I was like damn what fresh discourse is this you're dealing with??? Anyway it's the word quarterfinals it has been reacted to with the Sob emoji four times]

[ID, discord conversation: classically trained drabbler: listen our guy is fighting here in the trenches alongside us while your guy sips wine and plays his harp away from the battlefield. vote for joe, a guy of the people [binaural + bisexual]: A true sexyman lets other people get their hands dirty]

[ID: discord message from former leash kid, reading: i think i'm going to vote etho bc it's what doc would want from me]

[ID: discord message reading: listen everything that I'm learning about joe makes him seem like the coolest guy ever actually like. damn I would sit down to drink with him. however quackity looks like a lesbian in that one photoshoot so like recognizes like and whatever It has been reacted to two times with the 100 emoji and three times with Pensive]

[ID: discord conversation: SAD GAYISMS for SEXYLAMPNAP: i live voter fraud c/ping passeords is the best idea i've ever had classically trained drabbler: guys i know voter fraud is fun and sexy but the joeguys are outnumbered 40 to one pls be nice to us SAD GAYISMS for SEXYLAMPNAP: IM EVIL]

[ID: discord message from [binaural + bisexual], reading: bad sleep schedules rule the polls, 😔 it has been reacted to three times with the Pensive emoji]

[ID: discord conversation: Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, attaching an image of a tumblr comment where user honq said "IF YOU VOTE QUACKITY I"LL DRAW ETHO AND HIM KISSING!" [binaural + bisexual]: that is a fascinating offer]

[ID: discord message reading: I was on call w her and my mum today talking about how much fun I'm having and my mother wanted to see what the fuss was about so she googled "Minecraft poll" and said wow they do one every year! it has been reacted to six times with the Laugh emoji and eight times with the Joy emoji]

[ID: discord message reading: now time to throw my whole ass into voting for cleo thank god I am a feminist]

#data crunch group chat #long post

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lovelygirlwithablog · 10 days ago

Text

Mission: Amore

pairing: Harvey Specter x f!reader

Summary: Harvey Specter doesn’t do undercover missions—or romance. But in Milan with you, lines blur between duty and desire. As the mission turns deadly, Harvey realizes more than just his heart is at risk. Italy may be his toughest—and most personal—case yet.

Warnings: romance, friends to lovers, violence/action, mild language, emotional angst, alcohol use, mature themes, smut, p!v, fluff

A/N: i can't thank you enough for all the likes, reblogs and new followers (seriously, i'm jumping around my room😭). sorry for taking so long to post something but school is taking more time than usual (exam's month, yay) and I really hope you will like this story!! requests are always opened <3

The hum of the plane settled into a low, steady drone as you leaned back, staring out the window at the endless stretch of clouds and sky. This wasn’t how you’d pictured your first trip to Italy—sitting next to Harvey Specter on a red-eye flight with an agenda that would likely get you into trouble.

Harvey, of course, was completely unfazed. He looked relaxed, leaning back in his seat with his laptop open, typing away as if he were just on another late night at the office. The occasional clink of his cufflinks as he adjusted his shirt sleeve was the only sound breaking through the silence between you.

"Are you nervous?" he asked suddenly, without looking up.

You raised an eyebrow. "About the mission or sitting next to you for seven hours?"

He smirked, finally glancing over. “You tell me.”

Typical Harvey—throwing the question right back at you. You shifted in your seat, trying to shake the feeling that he could see right through your calm exterior. If he knew how tightly wound you were, or how the thought of being in close quarters with him for days was already tying your stomach into knots, he didn’t show it.

"Just hoping you don’t snore," you shot back. "Or hog the armrest."

He chuckled, the low, warm sound oddly comforting. "I don’t snore. And you can have the armrest, partner." He emphasized the last word.

You took a steadying breath and nodded, trying to match his calm, collected energy. "Fine. But just remember, this is a team effort."

His eyes softened just a little as he studied you, almost as if he were considering something he hadn’t allowed himself to think about until now. "Trust me. I know what’s at stake."

With that, he returned to his laptop, but you couldn’t shake the feeling off. Seven hours of flight lay ahead—and days in Milan after that. Somehow, you knew this trip would be more than you’d bargained for.

The private jet landed smoothly at Milan’s Malpensa Airport, and after a quick transfer, you found yourself stepping into the grand lobby of the hotel. The air was rich with the scent of fresh espresso and a hint of luxury. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and marble floors gleamed underfoot.

Harvey walked beside you, exuding his usual confidence, his eyes scanning the area as if evaluating every detail. You couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself—like he owned the place.

"Nice digs, right?" he said, glancing over at you with that trademark smirk. "I figured if we’re going to do this, we might as well do it in style."

"It’s certainly… impressive,"you replied, trying to hide your awe. "Just remember, we’re not here for the amenities."

“Relax,” he said, feigning innocence. “I’m just appreciating the view.” His eyes flicked to a couple of well-dressed guests across the lobby, then back to you. “Besides, a little luxury never hurt anyone, especially not when you’re about to dive into the center of Milan’s criminal scene.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“True, but it’s part of my charm,” he shot back, moving toward the reception desk. As you approached, the receptionist greeted Harvey with a smile, clearly recognizing him.

“Mr. Specter, welcome back,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Your suite is ready.”

“Thank you,” he replied smoothly, flashing a grin that could charm the socks off anyone. He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “I hope you’re ready for a little bit of luxury. I booked us a suite.”

“A suite?” You blinked in surprise, caught off guard. “I thought we were keeping things professional.”

“Professional doesn’t mean we have to be uncomfortable,” he countered, a playful glint in his eye. “Trust me, we’ll need the extra space to strategize.”

You could feel your heart race as you followed him to the elevator. As the doors slid closed, you both exchanged a glance.

When the doors opened to the suite, you stepped inside, taking in the plush furnishings, sweeping views of the city, and the unmistakable air of sophistication.

“Welcome to our temporary headquarters,” Harvey said, his voice low and teasing. “I’d say we’ve arrived in style.”

He stepped closer, leaning against the door frame with that familiar cocky demeanor. “As long as we’re on the same team, I think we’ll manage just fine.”

As night fell over Milan, you stepped out of the hotel with Harvey, the warm evening air brushing against your skin. The streets were alive with people, laughter, music, and the delicious smell of Italian food wafted through the air.

As you and Harvey settled into a cozy corner table at a Italian restaurant, the ambiance was warm and inviting, with flickering candlelight casting soft shadows around the room. You took a sip of the rich red wine the waiter had poured, letting the flavors swirl over your tongue.

“I can’t believe we’re in Milan,” you said, glancing around at the rustic decor and the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We have work to do,” he replied playfully, raising his glass in a mock toast. “But I guess a little wine never hurt anyone.”

Just then, a man approached your table—a tall, well-dressed stranger with dark hair and an easy smile. He seemed confident, exuding an effortless charm as he stopped beside you.

“Excuse me,” he said, addressing you directly. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. Your smile could light up the entire city.” His accent was Italian, smooth and melodic.

Ah, the usual pick up line.

You weren't impressed, but, well, you're not always in Italy.

You glanced at Harvey, who remained quiet but stiffened slightly in his seat.

“Thank you,” you said, returning the man a smile.

“Matteo,” he introduced himself, a twinkle in his eye. “Would you mind if I joined you for a moment?”

Before you could think twice, you nodded. "Sure, that would be nice.”

Matteo slid into the empty seat across from you, and you could feel Harvey’s gaze, the atmosphere shifting subtly.

“So, what brings you to Milan?” Matteo asked, leaning in slightly.

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could say anything, Harvey interjected, his tone smooth and casual. “We’re on our honeymoon,” he declared, a charming smile plastered on his face.

You blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard. “Uh—” you began, but Harvey continued seamlessly.

“I’m ‘Jack,’ and this is my beautiful wife, ‘Sophie,’” he said, his confidence unwavering. This were your false identities. Jack and Sophie Castens, a married couple from California.

Matteo’s expression faltered slightly, his eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, I see. Congratulations,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You could sense the tension in the air, and the mood shifted. Matteo’s body language changed, becoming a bit more rigid as he looked between you and Harvey. “Well, it was nice to meet you both,” he said quickly, his charming demeanor fading. “Enjoy your evening.”

With that, Matteo stood up, his smile replaced by a polite but strained expression. He glanced at you once more before walking away.

You watched him go. “Wow, that was unexpected,” you said, glancing at Harvey, who wore an amused expression but was clearly hiding his irritation.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

You shook your head, still processing what had just happened. “He didn’t even get a chance to say anything interesting.”

“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t have been flirting with my wife,” Harvey said, leaning back.

After the unexpected encounter with Matteo, you and Harvey decided to leave the restaurant and take a stroll through the streets of Milan. The city was alive with energy, the warm glow of street lamps illuminating the cobblestone paths.

As you walked side by side, the tension from dinner seemed to melt away. You could feel the electric atmosphere around you, and for a moment, it felt as if the city was yours alone. The stunning Duomo loomed in the distance, its intricate details bathed in soft light.

“This place is incredible,” you said, glancing up at the cathedral. “I could get lost here forever.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Harvey replied with a smirk, but there was a hint of warmth in his tone.

Just as your fingers brushed against his, his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the moment. He sighed, pulling it out and glancing at the screen.

“Work?” you asked, noting the slight annoyance in his expression.

“Yeah, quick call,” he said, answering it almost reluctantly. “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, watching as he stepped a few paces away, his voice low and focused. You turned your gaze back to the beautiful streets, the blend of old architecture and modern life surrounding you. The atmosphere was buzzing, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

While Harvey spoke, you noticed a shadowy figure lingering at the edge of the plaza. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the clothing and stance—it matched the description of the criminal you were supposed to be tracking.

You glanced back at Harvey, who was still engaged in his call, his brow furrowed in concentration. The figure shifted, and your pulse quickened. You were about to call out to him when the man turned and disappeared into a narrow alley.

Your instincts kicked in. You hesitated, torn between wanting to alert Harvey and the urgency of remaining calm.

Harvey ended the call and walked back towards you, his expression shifting as he noticed your distraction. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just thought I saw someone… Never mind,” you said, trying to brush it off while the adrenaline buzzed in your veins.

He studied you for a moment, concern flickering in his eyes. “You sure? We can keep walking if you want.”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “No, I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

With a nod, Harvey stepped closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as you resumed walking. But as you moved forward, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were on the edge of something. Someone.

Just as you were about to share your concern, a series of sharp, echoing gunshots rang out through the night.

Your heart raced as you instinctively grabbed Harvey’s arm, pulling him closer to you. “Did you hear that?” you whispered, the adrenaline surging through your veins.

He nodded, his expression shifting from relaxed to alert in an instant. “Stay close,” he said, scanning the street for any sign of danger.

You could see the tension in his posture as he led you towards a nearby alley, instinctively guiding you away from the noise. The sound of gunfire reverberated in your ears, sharp and shocking against the otherwise lively backdrop of the city.

“Do you think it’s—?” you began, but Harvey cut you off.

“Not here. We need to find cover,” he replied, his voice low and steady, a hint of urgency threading through his words.

As you turned into the alley, your heart pounded, the reality of the situation crashing down around you. You pressed against the cool stone wall, glancing back at the street, where shadows darted past in a panic.

“Stay quiet,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the mouth of the alley. You nodded, your breath quickening as you realized that this was not just a night of sightseeing—it was quickly becoming a dangerous mission.

Harvey’s phone buzzed again, but he ignored it, fully focused on the unfolding situation.

Then, another shot rang out, closer this time, followed by a flurry of footsteps. You pressed yourself further against the wall, your pulse racing.

“Do you think they’re after us?” you whispered, the gravity of the situation hitting you hard.

“Just stay behind me,” he said, his voice calm but firm, as he stepped slightly in front of you, instinctively shielding you from whatever was about to unfold.

The sound of chaos erupted around you—people shouting, the clatter of heels against the cobblestones, and the metallic echo of gunfire. You exchanged a glance with Harvey, the unspoken understanding between you solidifying in that moment. You were in this together, and there was no turning back now.

The night had turned dark and dangerous, and as the sounds of violence continued, you felt a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins.

As the chaos unfolded outside, you pressed your back against the cool wall of the alley, your heart racing as adrenaline surged through you. Harvey’s eyes were focused, scanning the street where the gunfire had erupted. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, and you felt the danger closing in.

“Stay here,” he said, his voice low and steady. He stepped a bit further into the alley, trying to get a better look at what was happening. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he prepared for anything that might come next.

Then, without warning, a figure appeared at the mouth of the alley—a masked man, his gun drawn and aimed into the night. Harvey’s instincts kicked in, and he raised his own weapon, ready to take action.

“Harvey, wait!” you shouted, panic rising in your chest, but it was too late.

The sound of gunfire rang out again, and you froze, your eyes wide as Harvey pulled the trigger. Just as he was about to fire, another shot rang out—a sharp crack that seemed to split the air.

Time slowed. You watched in horror as the bullet struck Harvey, hitting him square in the side. He stumbled back, his expression shifting from determination to shock as he gasped, clutching his side.

“Harvey!” you screamed, rushing forward as he fell against the wall, pain reflecting across his features.

He managed to keep his grip on his gun, but you could see the blood seeping through his shirt. Panic surged through you as you knelt beside him, your hands shaking. “Oh my God, what do I do?”

“Get down!” he grunted, struggling to stay conscious, his voice strained.

You quickly ducked down beside him, your heart racing. You could hear the sounds of chaos growing louder as more footsteps approached, the shadows of more figures moving closer. You had to act fast.

“Harvey, I need to get you out of here,” you said, your voice trembling as you pressed your hands against the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

“Don’t… don’t let them see you,” he managed to say, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

Your mind raced, torn between the urgency of the moment and the overwhelming fear gripping you. “I can’t leave you,” you said, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Trust me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You need to go.”

You shook your head, desperation clawing at your throat. “I’m not leaving you here!”

“Listen to me,” he insisted, a fierce determination burning in his eyes despite the pain. “Get to safety. Call for help.”

Suddenly, more shots rang out, and the figures were drawing nearer. You could see the silhouettes in the dim light, their intentions clear.

Just then, a surge of adrenaline coursed through you. You couldn’t let them find you here. With one last, frantic look at Harvey, you made the decision. You would follow his orders, but you weren’t leaving without a fight.

“I’ll be back,” you promised, your voice steady despite the fear threatening to overwhelm you. You squeezed his hand tightly, giving him a final look of determination before slipping deeper into the shadows of the alley, heart pounding and breath hitching, ready to do whatever it took to save him.

With your heart racing and adrenaline pumping, you found a small vantage point, crouching behind a stack of crates. Peering out into the street, you saw the masked figures advancing, their weapons drawn and aimed at the fleeing crowd. Fear gripped the bystanders as they scattered, but you couldn't let them become victims tonight.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your shaking hands. You had trained for situations like this, and while you had never imagined you'd be in a life-or-death scenario, the skills you had honed kicked into high gear. You couldn't let fear dictate your actions. You were going to fight back.

You spotted a clear target—a thug aiming his gun at a terrified couple, his finger tightening on the trigger. Without thinking, you raised your own weapon, the weight of it feeling surprisingly comfortable in your grip. You focused on your breath, silencing the chaos around you as you took aim.

BANG!

The shot rang out, echoing through the night. The thug dropped to the ground, surprise etched on his face as he crumpled.

Your heart raced.

You shifted your aim to another figure who was attempting to intimidate a group of young people.

BANG!

Another shot. Another thug fell, and you felt the power of your actions ignite a fire within you.

"Get down!" you shouted to the civilians, urging them to find cover as you continued to take out the armed threats one by one.

Each shot was precise, calculated. Your training kicked in, and you fell into a rhythm, moving with confidence and purpose.

As the remaining thugs realized they were being picked off one by one, panic spread among them. They began to turn on each other, unsure of where the threat was coming from. You felt a surge of adrenaline as you ducked behind cover, scanning the area for any remaining targets.

"Drop your weapons!" you shouted, your voice steady and commanding. The remaining thugs hesitated, fear creeping into their expressions as they weighed their options.

One of them raised his gun, but you were quicker.

BANG!

The shot rang out, and he fell to the ground, his weapon clattering beside him. The others dropped their guns, surrendering as they realized they were no match for you.

Breathing heavily, you turned to the group of bystanders who had sought refuge, their eyes wide with shock and gratitude. "Is everyone okay?" you asked, scanning the crowd for any signs of injury.

They nodded. Just then, you remembered Harvey. "I need to get Harvey!" you shouted, rushing back to where you had left him.

You found him leaning against the wall, his face pale.

"Y/N..." he said, a hint of a smile breaking through the pain.

"Did you doubt me?" you replied, kneeling beside him and pressing your hand over the wound to staunch the bleeding. Tears were starting to fall down your cheeks. "I'm getting you out of here."

Before he could respond, the sound of approaching sirens grew louder, and the realization of the situation settled in. You had done it. You saved lives.

The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air as you paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room, your heart racing. The chaos of the night was behind you, but the weight of it pressed heavily on your chest. After the gunfire subsided, the paramedics had arrived swiftly, transporting Harvey away on a stretcher, his face pale and strained.

You had insisted on going with him, but they had gently but firmly told you to stay behind. “We’ll take care of him. He needs you to stay calm and wait,” one of the paramedics had said, but the reassurance did little to quell the anxiety swirling inside you.

Now, all you could do was wait. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, illuminating the small room filled with uncomfortable plastic chairs and the distant sounds of hospital machinery. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest as you replayed the events of the night over and over in your mind.

You leaned against the wall, glancing at the clock. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Harvey had been there for you; now you needed to be strong for him.

Every time the automatic doors opened, your pulse quickened, hoping it would be a doctor coming to give you news. You watched families come and go, some faces filled with joy, others with despair, and you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. What if something happened to him? What if he didn’t make it?

Just as you began to spiral into a haze of anxiety, the doors swung open again, and a doctor in scrubs entered the waiting room. Your heart leaped into your throat as you approached him, desperate for answers.

“Are you here for Harvey Specter?” the doctor asked, looking at you.

“Yes! How is he?” you replied, your voice trembling.

“He’s stable. We were able to stop the bleeding, but he will need to undergo surgery to repair the damage,” the doctor explained, his tone calm but serious.

Relief flooded through you, but it was quickly followed by a wave of concern. “Can I see him?” you asked, needing to be by his side.

“Not just yet. He’s in surgery now, but you can wait here. The nurses will keep you updated,” the doctor replied, giving you a reassuring nod before turning to leave.

You watched him go, your heart still racing. He was alive—Harvey was alive. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

You returned to your seat, fingers tapping nervously against your thigh as you stared at the wall, lost in thought. The events of the night replayed in your mind—the gunfire, the adrenaline, and how you had taken control. But now, all you felt was helplessness.

As you stared at the wall, you realized you didn’t just care about Harvey as a colleague or a partner; it was deeper than that.

Harvey had risked everything to protect you, and you were determined to show him just how much he meant to you.

"Y/N L/N." a voice suddenly calls for you. It's one of the nurses that was in and out of Harvey's room.

You stand up quick and look at her, your heart beating out of your chest.

"You can see him." she spoke, her italian accent coming to the surface as she elaborates. "He is stable and will leave the hospital tomorrow."

"Gosh, thank you," you finally manage to smile.

You walk slowly into the room and close the door behind you.

"Y/N," you heard Harvey whispering and you ran to his bed.

"Harvey..." you sat on a chair beside him. You looked at him and touched his face with your fingers. "I thought I lost you..." your voice cracks as tears begin to pile in the corners of your eyes.

"I wouldn't give you that joy." he smiles. God, that beautiful smile.

You smile softly and nod.

"I-I can't imagine a life without you in it." you look away from his eyes.

Before he could speak, the nurse comes back into the room.

"Miss, I'm going to ask you to leave. We have to run some tests on his body. He is going to be fine."

You look at him one more time and leave.

You pace the hotel room, the echo of the news that Harvey would be okay doing little to calm the tight coil of worry in your chest. The soft thud of your footsteps blends with the muffled city sounds outside, each second stretching longer than the last.

Suddenly, the door clicks open, and you whirl around to find Harvey stepping in. His suit jacket is draped over one arm, and a few stitches run along his brow, stark against his otherwise composed expression.

“Are you kidding me?” you snap, relief and anger tangled in your voice. “You should be in the hospital, not strutting back here like it’s just another day at the office.”

He smirks, the hint of exhaustion in his eyes betraying his voice. "Missed me?”

You glare at him, folding your arms as your pulse quickens for an entirely different reason.

“You’re unbelievable, Harvey. You think this is funny? You scared the hell out of me.”

For a moment, his expression softens, and the room falls into silence. Harvey steps closer, his smirk fading. “I know,” he says, voice lower, more honest. “I’m sorry.”

The apology catches you off guard. It’s rare for Harvey to admit when he’s wrong, let alone with the hint of vulnerability you now see in his eyes. You stare at him, words momentarily escaping you, as the anger simmers into something softer, something that feels like the ache you’ve been holding onto for far too long.

“Sorry doesn’t cover it,” you say, the tension in your shoulders slowly unwinding as you drop your arms to your sides. “You could have—” Your voice cracks before you can finish the thought, and you turn away, unable to look at him without remembering the hospital room, the bandages, the sight of him lying motionless in blood.

You feel him step closer, close enough that the heat from his body warms your back. “Hey,” he says softly, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore how his voice makes your pulse flutter.

“I’m here now, and I’m okay.”

You let out a shaky breath and turn to face him. The distance between you is almost nothing, and you can see the faint trace of exhaustion in the way his eyes narrow. Without thinking, your hand reaches up to touch the edge of the stitches, gentle enough that he barely flinches.

“You’re not invincible, Harvey,” you whisper, your eyes meeting his. “One day you won’t be fine."

His hand finds yours, pressing it against his cheek.

“Then I guess I’ll have to make sure that day never comes.”

Your heart lurches at his promise. Before you can say anything else, Harvey leans in, eyes searching yours for permission, and in that moment, all the worry, all the fear melts away.

“Harvey,” you whisper, but before you can say anything else, he closes the distance, capturing your lips with his. The kiss is gentle at first, hesitant, as if testing the waters. But then, the weight of everything unsaid—years of banter, stolen glances, unspoken confessions—crashes over both of you, and the kiss deepens.

Your hands find their way to the lapels of his shirt, gripping them as if to anchor yourself to this moment, to him.

Harvey’s fingers thread through your hair, pulling you closer until there’s not a breath between you. The world outside the hotel room dissolves, leaving just the two of you, tangled in the realization that whatever this is, it’s real, and it’s been waiting too long to be acknowledged.

When you finally pull apart, your breath comes in quick, unsteady gasps, and Harvey’s forehead rests against yours. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles—soft and genuine in a way you’ve only seen glimpses of before.

“Took us long enough,” he murmurs, and you can’t help but laugh, the sound breaking through the last of the tension.

“Yeah,” you say, fingers still curled in his shirt. “It did.”

Harvey tilts his head, searching your face as if to commit every detail to memory. There's a question there, one you answer by closing the distance and brushing your lips against his again, this time slower, savoring his taste.

His hands slide down your arms, resting at your waist before moving to the hem of your shirt. He hesitates, giving you a moment to pull back, but you don't. Instead, you reach up, guiding his jacket off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor in a careless heap.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as he tugs your shirt up, and you lift your arms to help, your skin tingling as the fabric slips away.

The soft, shared gasps echo in the quiet room as he traces a line up your spine, pulling you close. The heat of his touch sears through every inch of you, erasing the worry and fear. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, fingers fumbling as he watches you.

"Careful," he whispers, the smirk returning for just a moment.

You roll your eyes playfully before finishing with the last button and sliding the shirt off his broad shoulders. His expression shifts again, back to something serious, as he cups your face with one hand, eyes searching yours before leaning in.

Harvey’s hands guide you toward the edge of the bed, movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every moment.

You step back until your legs meet the bed, and you sink down, pulling him with you. The mattress dips under you, and a quiet laugh slips from your lips as Harvey’s arm wraps around your waist, steadying you both. His laughter joins yours before he kisses you again.

He leans down, pressing a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your collarbone, each touch making your pulse race faster.

Every touch, every look is unhurried, filled with understanding that neither of you has to rush; there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Harvey's body pressed into yours, the warmth between you making everything else fade away. His lips find your neck again, kissing and nibbling with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. You tilt your head back, giving him more access as his hands roam to your back, trailing over your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

His lips move lower, brushing across your collarbone and down toward your chest. You feel his breath against your skin, the heat of him making your heart race faster. His hands gently guide you to lie back, following the curve of your body, as he peppers soft kisses along your ribs, your stomach, each kiss slow, deliberate, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you.

You let out a soft sigh, fingers running through his hair, urging him closer as his lips continue their path lower. Your breath catches when his lips brush just above your stomach, the sensation making your body tremble beneath him. Harvey pauses for a moment, lifting his head, his eyes meeting yours.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, before kissing his way back up, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss.

Harvey's hands slide over your body with a slow, deliberate touch, each movement sending a jolt of warmth through you. His lips follow the trail of his fingers, pressing gentle, hungry kisses against your neck, your collarbone-lingering on the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

"God, you're incredible," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. You shiver at the praise, the way his breath feels against your skin.

Your hands find their way to his body, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own hurried breaths. His lips are back on your skin, kissing and teasing their way down.

His hands slide down your sides, fingers brushing the edges of your body.

"Harvey," you gasp, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, your body arching into his. "Please..."

His eyes lock onto yours. "I need you to know how much l've wanted this," he says. "You're everything l've been trying not to want."

His lips press firmly against yours, stealing your breath as his hands move to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if there's no room left for anything but the two of you.

You run your hands down the length of his back, feeling the heat of his body.

You're breathless now, your heart racing as you let your hands slide down his chest, fingertips brushing the hard muscles beneath his skin. "You have me," you whisper, your voice a little shaky, but full of conviction. "And I don't think you'll ever be able to walk away from that, Harvey."

His lips crash back onto yours in a heated kiss, one that leaves you breathless and dizzy. His hands move to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and laying you back on the bed. Every movement between you is slow, deliberate, like he's savoring every moment, every kiss.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/N," he murmurs against your lips. "Not now. Not ever."

You instinctively tilt your head up to kiss him, but he pulls back, leaving just enough space to make you ache for more.

"Do you really want me, Y/N?" he asks you.

Your grip on his neck tightens as you whisper softly. "You have no idea," you reply.

He laughs softly. "Good," he says , pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back once more. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

You pout.

"So impatient, angel..." he teases, glancing at you. "I thought you liked taking things slow."

"Harvey... Please..." you whisper.

He smiles and kisses your soft lips again, this time more gentle and slow.

"Are you sure you want this, Y/N?"

"You... you don't know how much I needed you all this time."

He stood just inches away, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that could break through steel.

“You know,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper but deep enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I’ve won a hundred cases, closed deals worth billions, and walked into rooms knowing I’d come out on top.”

He paused, exhaling slowly.

“But standing here with you—right now—it’s the first time I’ve felt afraid. Not afraid to lose, but afraid of what it means to finally win. To finally have you."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, igniting a spark that seemed to fill the entire room. “Because with you, it’s never been a game. It’s everything.”

For a moment, the only sound was the slow, rhythmic beat of your hearts.

And then, you wrapped your arms around him and kissed him.

He takes of your skirt and throws it across the room as you undo his belt and take off his pants.

You take off your own underwear as he does the same. You look down and damn, he was big.

"Y/N..." he whispers your name before kissing you hungrily.

"I know..." you bite his bottom lip.

He looks at you with those beautiful brown eyes and slowly enters inside you.

You both moan at the sensation and you wrap his legs around his waist.

"Oh, fuck..." he lets out a soft whimper. "You're so tight," he kisses you.

You smile and lift your hips slowly. He starts to push his cock into your pussy, stretching you out like no one ever could.

You moan at the feeling of him inside you. Gosh, how much you waited for this. How much you imagined this, daydreaming about it. But it was so, so much better.

He adds two of his fingers on your clit as he continues to push in and out of you.

"Deeper," you manage to say in between moans.

"Princess..." he kisses your neck, biting your soft skin. "I..." he smiles.

"Yes, baby boy?" you praise him.

And well, you didn't know that was one of his weak spots. But you sure discovered that when he pushed deeper into you, squeezing the pillow behind your head.

He trembles slowly and kisses your lips.

"What did you say?" he teases you.

You bite your lips as you smile. "Baby boy?"

"Mhm..." he kisses you, passionately and hungrily.

"Fuck, Harvey..." you moan louder. "I'm close."

"Me too, baby, me too." he bit your bottom lip.

As he pushed inside your wet pussy, you came, trembling.

"Harvey!" you scream his name in pleasure.

"Yes, that's it. Come on, baby," he doesn't stop. "Fuck, I'm coming too."

He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan as he came inside you, his warm cum filling you up.

He kissed you before he collapsed beside you.

You lay against Harvey, your head resting on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing slowly bringing you both back to reality.

Harvey’s hand, warm and steady, was lightly grazing your back, his fingers drawing gentle patterns along your skin. His thumb brushed over the curve of your spine, the touch soothing and tender.

“Love..." Harvey murmured, his voice low and soft. "Are you okay?”

You nodded against his chest, feeling his muscles flex as his arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you a little closer. “Yeah,” you whispered back. “Just… you’re good at that.”

He chuckled, but there was no smugness in it, only warmth. “I know,” he replied, teasing just a bit. “But seriously, I want to make sure you’re okay. Anything that you need, my princess?"

His hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin with tenderness.

“I’m good,” you said, meeting his eyes with a smile. “Better than good, actually.”

Harvey grinned, and for a second, it was as if you saw a hint of something more vulnerable behind those sharp, dark eyes. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for just a moment before pulling you even closer.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

You felt your heart soften at his words. It was rare for him to be this open, to be this tender, but in that moment, it felt right. You shifted to look up at him, smiling.

“Do you mean that?” you asked, your voice quiet but full of sincerity.

He met your gaze with an intensity that matched the depth of his feelings. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

You could feel the security in his words, the comfort in his touch. Harvey Specter, always the man who seemed to have everything under control, had a way of making you feel cared for in a way that only he could.

After a few moments of quiet, you sighed contentedly, snuggling even closer. Harvey shifted beneath you, adjusting so that your head was resting more comfortably against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, and for the first time that night, you both just relaxed, letting the peace of the moment wash over you.

He leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep. The kiss was different this time—gentler, filled with more meaning than anything physical. It was a kiss of assurance, of love, of something real.

You hummed, a small, content sound escaping your lips as your body surrendered to the warmth and comfort. The next thing you knew, your breathing had evened out, your mind had quieted, and you were drifting into sleep.

But just as you were about to slip fully into dreamland, you heard Harvey’s voice again—so soft, so tender, it made your heart skip a beat.

“I love you, angel,” he whispered, his words meant only for you, his breath warm against your skin. “More than you’ll ever know.”

And with that promise, you closed your eyes, your body finally settling into the safe haven of his arms.

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the-red-thread-that-strangles · 7 months ago

Text

Akai Shuuichi isn't afraid of heights. Like any sane person, however, he dreads the fall.

Though he questions his sanity. Because try as he might to stay away from the edge, it calls to him. Staring into sweet oblivion sends shivers down his spine, the uncertainty of his fate a thrill like no other. Most days he trusts in himself, his ability to walk the razor's edge, but he's fallen before. And it hurt.

Of course, pain is just a part of life he's learned to live with. In his line of work, people get injured all the time. And if you can't handle that, you have to be very lucky to make it out alive. For the longest time, death wasn't an option.

(Now, it wouldn't be so bad.)

So he steadied himself, got smarter, hardier. Better at avoiding situations that result in pain. And better at shutting it out, too, when it did appear, in order to keep going.

Why, then, does his chest ache and burn?

It's quite simple.

Layers and layers of ice, degrees of separation in place precisely to protect him from pain like this, melted through by Rei's blazing heat.

What a stupid thing he's done, to get attached again.

He could've tried to resist, at the start. Before things had gone too far. Before he got to know Furuya Rei.

But maybe, by then, it was already too late. In truth, he probably doomed himself years ago, when he accepted Scotch's offer of companionship. It brought Bourbon into his orbit, and the man's never been any less than doggedly persistent. Once Shuuichi let him in, he was never going to escape unscathed.

Shuuichi let him get too close, and got burnt as a result. Could see it coming, too, for the longest time. But how was he supposed to escape Rei's brilliance? His touch, devastatingly kind? It would be like trying to block out the sun - an exercise in painful impossibility.

So he's stopped trying, and embraced the wildfire that is Rei. Of course he burns, it's his nature.

(There's some things Shuuichi will need to reevaluate about his own, now that he has time. Because he certainly never thought of himself as a masochist, and yet, despite the pain, he knows one thing for certain: he wouldn't want things any other way.)

(Not one that is available to him, at least.)

Thus, he resorts to clinging to the vestiges of patience and composure he has cultivated for years to keep working through the situation with a cool head.

To do what is right.

He's putting back together what he tore apart, unwittingly, some three years ago now. Their struggle is over. They deserve to rest and recover, nurse their wounds - together.

It doesn't matter that he feels like he's bleeding out. He's used to patching himself up, after all.

And he's glad that he can do this for his... friends. The term invokes a foreign, gentle joy. They're no longer team mates, no longer allies, no longer forced together by circumstance. That's in the past, now. They stick to each other by choice, these days. That makes them friends, right?

He's happy for his friends.

Shuuichi pours himself another glass of scotch.

He should've picked a different hotel than his family.

Rather, his family should've really looked into a permanent residence already, considering Masumi has decided she doesn't want to go back to Britain. It's not like mother could refuse, after all the things his little sister did for her - not least of which, coming clean to Shiho and convincing her to share the APTX antidote, when all was said and done.

They're certainly not lacking in money, and Shuuichi's sure the Hanedas have connections that would make finding a flat, or even a house, possible, even on short notice.

Then again, Masumi told him they've been living in a hotel for more than half a year - maybe they've simply grown used to the comforts. It's not for him, but he's rarely seen eye to eye with mother.

Regardless, none of this excuses banging at his door at seven in the morning, on the dot.

"Shuu, are you up yet?"

Well, if he wasn't, he surely would be, now. Years undercover have left him a light sleeper out of necessity - it's a habit he won't be able to break for quite a while, even if he wanted to.

Still, the splitting headache and nausea make him consider playing dead. He doesn't feel much better than it, in any case.

Another set of knocks shakes his door. He loves his sister, and her determination is one of her best traits. But some of these days, it's also highly inconvenient.

"One moment."

He drags himself off the barstool, checks the mirror. Can almost hear Rei telling him he looks like death warmed over. Roughly two hours of sleep half-draped over the hotel room bar certainly didn't do him any favours.

He buttons up his shirt in an attempt at modesty, combs back his hair roughly. Part of him wants to send Masumi away - she's idolised him for too long. His little sister doesn't deserve to have the illusion of composure shattered, shouldn't have to see him, like this.

But she told him, at her birthday party, trying alcohol for the first time in their family home, under his watchful eyes. Always direct, but, as it turned out, even more so when tipsy:

'When all of this is over, I want my brother back. Just...you, however you are.'

If Shuuichi waits for a time where he feels ready to talk to her, won't stain her merely by existing in proximity, they'll never get to meet at all.

(He can't have that. He's missed too much, already.)

So he drags himself to the door, dishevelled, morning breath and all. Opens it a crack.

"Morning." If his voice is a little rougher than usual, there's nothing he can do about it.

Masumi pushes the door wide open so she can step in, giving him a wide berth. Inspects him head to toe, worry clear in her scowl and the wrinkle of her nose.

"...is this a bad time?", she asks, a glint to her eyes as she notices the half-empty bottle of scotch on the bar's counter. She can't help it - a detective through and through, and not good enough at feigning nonchalance yet. The evidence at the crime scene is surely forming a rather damning picture - he really should have put the bottle back into the bar before letting her in.

She plops down on the small sofa, makes herself comfortable while he opens the window. That should at least give them some relief from the smells accumulated overnight in the room.

"No. You're just here early. Is something the matter?"

He doesn't bother with pleasantries on principle, but at this hour he finds himself even less inclined. Besides - she wouldn't be here this early if it wasn't important. At least Shuuichi dearly hopes she has more sense than that.

Masumi looks down at the floor, a little guilty. He settles on the barstool and waits for her hesitation to blow over. Must really be looking like shit, if he's managed to curb her usual enthusiasm.

"I was going to ask for a favour, but I'm really not sure-"

He gives her an unimpressed look, from up upon his perch. It's a little too early to beat around the bush.

"Masumi." A single word, aimed to cut her off with calm precision. "How do I help?"

He might not be feeling well, but he's a professional - he's worked in worse conditions, for less important reasons. He'll drag himself out of his slump, if she needs him.

"You don't have to. It's silly." She gives him a sheepish smile, fangs and all.

"That's for me to decide, once you let me know what you need. So?"

She steadies herself, looks up at him, and sighs.

"For context, it's been months now, but Ran's still down about the whole Shinichi fiasco. So, we've decided to surprise her with an outing, tomorrow night."

So far so good, although he doesn't see where that concerns him.

"It was gonna be just us girls, and I'm confident that between Ran and myself, we can handle anyone stupid enough to try and cause trouble. But you know how it is in Beika. There's always a risk."

He does indeed know how Beika has somehow overtaken Osaka in every single criminal statistic there is. If she didn't have friends here, he would suggest moving elsewhere. He hears Nagano is very lovely, all year 'round.

"So we were discussing if there's anyone we could bring for company. And, well-"

"Go on."

"Sonoko somehow - I'd really like her resources - caught wind that Okiya Subaru is back on 'vacation'. She might have suggested asking him to accompany us?"

Not entirely unexpected - miss Suzuki had taken something of a liking to him, for whatever reason. It's a testament to the improvement of his acting skills. Engaging with kids and teenagers is a far cry more difficult and involved than his cover as Rye, somehow.

"...she may also be under the inaccurate impression, you, well, he could be a potential match for Ran."

At least his sister's on the right page there. That's not happening, never in a thousand years. Even if Ran wasn't barely more than half his age, she's too innocent, selfless, kind. If something like love exists in his heart, it couldn't ever be for someone like her - not again.

"You want me to decline the offer, then?" Simple enough.

Masumi shakes her head.

"No, Sonoko's right. It's always good to have an extra pair of eyes, and I'd love to have you with us. Been too long since we last spent time together. Besides, I don't think Ran is even interested in you - or anyone, really, after that disaster..." It takes him a moment to place the bitterness in her voice, uncharacteristic as it is.

"And that is unexpected?"

"No. I get it, she needs time. But she's miserable, and I want her to cheer up already..." Masumi mumbles the latter half to herself, subdued. Shuuichi's not sure he was supposed to hear that, but, well. He did.

"You'll get through to her eventually."

Good back-up gets one out of the toughest of scrapes, he can attest to that. If his sister is determined to get Ran to feel better, her persistence will make it come true, eventually.

"I sure hope so." She smiles up at him.

He finds his lips quirking up in response. "You focus on helping her. I'll cover your back."

He's sure he'll manage not to indulge miss Suzuki's delusions too badly. Rei often let him know how off-putting he can be, after all - finally a good use for his skills.

"Thanks, Shuu."

She gets up. Stops a couple of steps away from him, hovering uncertainly. When he raises an eyebrow, he can almost see the 'ah, fuck it', and then she's hugging him. Shuichi pats her back, a little awkwardly.

"Any time", he says and means it. "If there's anything else..."

She tenses next to him, but shakes her head.

"No, it's...I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Well, now he is a little worried. He'll need to keep an eye out for whatever's troubling her.

"Alright." He won't push her; she'll tell him if she needs to.

Masumi lets go and scurries off, fleeing for the door.

"Text me the time and place, I'll be there."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." She nods and waves her goodbye. He follows to lock the door behind her, the bolt sliding shut with a satisfying clack.

There's just one small problem. He currently doesn't have Okiya's get-up. And Okiya doesn't live in this hotel.

After dropping him off yesterday, Shuuichi had planned not to bother him for a couple of days. Well. That plan has just been tossed out the window rather unceremoniously.

It can't be helped. With a bit of apprehension, he calls Scotch.

Under the cover of darkness, Shuuichi scales the garden wall, dropping into the Kudo's backyard without issue. The alarms have been disabled according to the schedule he provided.

He slips in through the unlocked backdoor, shutting it behind himself. The security systems of the place are too familiar; he reactivates them on autopilot. Better to avoid unpleasant surprises, wherever possible.

Clearly, Scotch had a similar idea - Shuuichi can barely see his outline in the darkened kitchen, but the revolver he gave to him gleams in the dim light. It's nice to see he's making good use of it.

Sharp blue eyes scan him.

"The passphrase?"

Nostalgia steals the air from his lungs. Between unsafe safe houses, a trigger-happy Bourbon, and working with people best described as shapeshifters, they needed a way to identify themselves, and quickly, when they returned home.

It's been years since he's last spoken it, but the passphrase comes to him as easily as breathing.

"Eat, drink, and be merry..."

Scotch had suggested the words, years ago. The motto he lived by, when not on the job, in order to not lose his sanity. The motto he'd imposed on Rye, as well, when they became partners.

A cheshire grin in the night.

"...for tomorrow we die." Scotch finishes their creed, lowers the revolver.

"Welcome home, Rye."

It's always been easy to find comfort by Scotch's side. Between the greeting, making gyoza together - which goes much better than their attempts years ago - and watching mindless action movies with a glass of bourbon, ripping apart impossible stunt work, it's difficult not to fall into a simulacrum of the fragile peace they'd carved out for themselves, away from organisation work.

Only this time, the peace is real.

Despite his apprehensions about meeting Scotch, Shuuichi's glad he's here - travelling with him is one thing, but he didn't realize just how much he's missed downtime with his ex-partner. Scotch's sharp intellect and easy-going attitude make for pleasant company.

It's exactly what he needs to unwind.

Which is why he doesn't see how Scotch has him cornered until it's too late.

The neighbourhood of the Kudo manor is quiet, at night.

As they head out onto the balcony for a smoke in the moonlight, their conversation turns to hushed whispers. Mellowed by an evening of pleasant company and several drinks, the world sharpens into focus between them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes.

Standing would be too visible, so they sit on the stone floor, side by side, like so many times before.

"Hey, Akai?" His name, not his monicker. A chilling sense of dread creeps into his chest. Please, no.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Shuuichi closes his eyes. He can take a good guess where this is going. Thus, he takes a deep drag from his cigarette, and braces himself.

"You know. For letting me meet Zero."

He'd been hoping against hope they could avoid the topic altogether. After all, they've made it several hours without addressing it. But unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out.

(Still, having seen Scotch in good spirits all evening makes it worthwhile, just a bit.)

Maybe they can just move along quickly.

"Think nothing of it."

"No. Akai, listen. I know you had to pull some strings to make it happen, and I want you to know I appreciate that. We appreciate that - even if Zero is pissed. First thing he did was slap me; told me I was late."

Scotch laughs, low and sweet in the night air.

They both know he let himself get slapped - Rei tends to telegraph too much, when he's angry, and surely it's even more obvious for someone so intimately familiar with him. The thought stings. And yet, through it, Shuuichi can't help the help the small smile creeping on his face. That sounds like Rei, all right. He would've liked to see it - someone else the target of his anger, for once.

Scotch seems happy to just bask in the memory, but Shuuichi's curiosity has been piqued.

"Did you manage to resolve your issues?" After all, that was the goal. If they didn't, none of this was worth it - several hoops he jumped through, bureaucratic and personal, for nothing.

"It's tentative, so far, but I have faith we'll get there. We've been through too much, together, at this point. This won't break us... I hope."

Shuuichi is reminded painfully of the bits and pieces he's heard of their childhood adventures. Fishing and fighting and being friends. It must be nice, to have found love so early in life. To get to keep it, too.

"I don't think so, it's clear how much he missed you. I'd be surprised if he ever let you go again." It leaves him a little cold, to no longer be the focal point of Furuya's burning determination. Chasing him was always just a means to an end for getting to Scotch. And now his wish has been granted. Shuuichi hopes it's worth it.

When he smiles, Shuuichi is sure this is Hiro, the person closest to Rei. It burns, but at the same time he finds himself glad that Scotch shines with such utter fondness when he talks of Zero. That's what Rei deserves, after all.

"I hope so. I don't intend to leave again, anyways. Every single day when I was hiding, I missed him."

It's a quiet, gentle admission Akai isn't sure how to handle. All these emotions are a bit too much - he's not used to being thanked, unless it's with useless medals, and he's not used to being confided in. He supposes it's nice that Scotch trusts him enough to lay himself bare like this, nowadays. Still, he can't help but wish for the old times, when they were much better at keeping their feelings out of his face. He's already happy for them; isn't that enough?

Scotch turns to look at him, blue eyes burning bright in the moonlight.

"And I missed you, too."

Cold wind tousles his hair. Shuuichi stares at Scotch.

If he didn't know what to say before, he certainly doesn't do so now. How can Hiro say that so easily? It's too personal. It's one thing to have his little sister say it, who only ever saw an idealized version of him to look up to. For Scotch to say this, despite knowing what he did, who he is - it makes Shuuichi nauseous.

Because he can tell Scotch is being painfully genuine.

'I missed you too', burns in his throat. But too many conflicting emotions keep it tightly sealed. His breathing becomes difficult, requires a conscious effort to take air in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.

And Scotch isn't even done yet.

"Akai. I have to get used to that name now, huh? Feel free to call me by my name, too, if you want."

With how his mind is spinning, it's difficult to figure out what he wants at all, besides for Scotch, no, Hiromitsu to stop. He's ripping apart the bubble of warm nostalgia that was enveloping them so nicely, leaving them exposed to the present. The night is cold and uncertain, without its protection.

"...you haven't been meeting my eyes all evening. Please, Akai - let me know what's wrong. We couldn't, back then, but I'd like to be your friend, now."

It's the kindest smile he's seen on Sc- Hiromitsu yet, and it's too much. Shuuichi has to avert his eyes, can't keep looking at his former partner, all earnest focus placed on him. A shiver runs downs his spine.

There's few things he wants more, in life.

"...we are", he manages to tear from his aching throat, choked up with emotion. This is a bad idea. He's not supposed to get attached. He's just making the same mistake, over and over again. He should've kept quiet.

(If he'd told Akemi how he truly felt, would it have mattered?)

"Then why do you seem miserable, whenever you look at me? Why do you try to avoid me? Don't think I didn't notice."

Of course he did, always too sharp. So helpful, on a mission, and occasionally in private too; he'd know they were getting sick before they really felt it, start treatment with soup and tea early. Taking care of them, even then.

"It's got nothing to do with you, it's-" 'me', he wants to say. Fear and bitter envy, the brunt of which Hiromitsu really doesn't deserve to face. So Shuuichi's been trying to avoid them, and, by extension, his former partner.

He manages to catch himself in time, before he gives voice to feelings that can't be unsaid.

"Yes?" Hiromitsu's voice is calm and patient and Shuuichi hates him for the attention he's paying to him.

He manages to correct his course in time, if barely.

"You and Rei deserve some time alone, now that you're finally back together." It's close enough, only a partial lie. They're so important to each other, and he truly wants them to make up. He'd only be in their way.

"Rei, hm?" Hiro smiles at him. Of course he picked up on Shuuichi's blunder.

He's had just about enough of being cornered. Gets up and is about to head inside and maybe hide in the attic for a while. The door can be barricaded from the inside. Hiromitsu rises after him, puts a hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Let. Go." It takes all his patience to not just break Scotch's arm and leave.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Akai. Please, give me half a minute more."

Unfortunately, his best glare stopped working on Scotch several years back. Shuuichi looks at his wristwatch, starts counting down. As soon as Hiromitsu starts talking, he knows his time is better spent focusing on what he has to say, instead.

"Look at me, Akai, and listen up. You can't get between the two of us. I've offered you a place at my side years ago, and Zero... well, he's come around. The offer still stands. It wasn't conditional, but if it was, you would've earned your place easily, by now. I owe you my life, and so does Zero, several times over."

"We did what we had to, and you did the same for me." For the longest time it was that simple, their relationship purely transactional, because Bourbon could only ever deal in exchanges. A favour for a favour.

It's long since stopped working that way, and Shuuichi knows it.

"Oh, please. None us had to do anything more than cooperate on missions, and yet we all chose to do so anyways. You're one of us, Akai. Stop fighting it."

And he wants to, desperately so. The thought of spilling his rotten insides for them to see has him sick to his stomach, and yet, how much worse could it be than what they've already witnessed?

Hiromitsu squeezes his arm, a burning brand of human connection. It staves off the cold, just a little.

When he speaks again, it's soft, but firm.

"You should've joined us for dinner, yesterday. Both of us missed you."

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say to that, too busy fighting his internal battles, but surely something shows on his face, because Hiro laughs at him.

"As amusing as it is to see you flush, no, that wasn't an invitation to a threesome."

...he isn't quite sure whether he's supposed to be relieved, or crestfallen, at this.

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." Hiromitsu's smile is too sly and knowing. It's a testament to the fact Shuuichi's spent too much time with Furuya, because wiping it off his face in a fight sure sounds appealing, right about now.

He's always been better at expressing himself through deeds rather than words, anyways.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't need to set the record straight. Zero's furious, by the way. Count yourself lucky that I'm the one breaking the news to you. He doesn't appreciate being set up on a date with his best friend."

Hiromitsu pauses, presumably to let that sink in. Shuuichi stares him down. That is supposed to be new information, how?

"Let me be perfectly clear: I love Zero."

He says it easily, with a sweet smile. It stings fiercely in Shuuichi's chest. By now, he thinks he knows what Hiromitsu is playing at, but unfortunately that knowledge doesn't prevent it from being an effective tactic.

(If this is how Hiromitsu treats his friends, he doesn't want to be his enemy.)

"He's my best friend, I love him like a brother. But he's family. Nothing more, nothing less."

There's a small pang of guilt at the relief that floods his system, but he needs it said explicitly to really believe it.

"You aren't a couple, then?"

Hiromitsu raises an eyebrow, as if to ask 'and why would that matter to you?' But thankfully he's done teasing, or Shuuichi really would need to break something, or rather, someone.

"No. I can see how you got the idea, but there's never been anything between us. Zero says you have a brother? Imagine we presumed the same about you two, just because you're close."

The confirmation lets him breathe more freely, even if it will need time to settle. His mind is still spinning, too many thoughts fighting for control. From this mess, of all things, his long-forgotten manners emerge as the failsafe. "Sorry."

Hiromitsu waves it off with a grin.

"I don't mind too much, we got excellent dinner out of it. Thank you for that, by the way. But do make sure to apologize properly to Rei."

Hiro winks at him, then straightens, looks him in the eye.

Squeezes his arm a final time, before he lets go.

"I mean it, Akai - you're our friend. And I hope you rest a little easier, knowing the truth."

Shuuichi does.

He's five minutes late to the requested location downtown - through little fault of his own, this time.

Masumi's text arrived a mere twenty minutes ago, and the things PSB liaison Akai Shuuichi might get away with, such as speeding, don't apply to the civilian Okiya Subaru (though that would admittedly be a very nice perk of the job).

He can hazard a guess why Masumi didn't send the details earlier as he drives past the building in question to find a parking spot - she probably didn't want to give him time to reconsider and back out.

Because she's dragging him to a goddamn karaoke bar, and, standing in the huddle of girls waiting for him, is Miyano Shiho.

His instincts tell him to cancel, to take up position on the rooftop bar across the street - it would provide easier surveillance options.

(But he's tried to protect Akemi from afar, and failed her, miserably.)

Besides, he promised, and he really does try to be better, these days.

So he smiles, all awkward and apologetic Subaru, as he joins them. It's going to be a long night.

(He's soothed by the smell of Rei's hypoallergic fabric softener clinging to the sweater he picked. Can't help but feel that there would be a certain appeal to sharing them, if Rei were open to the idea.)

The evening goes better than he imagined, all things considered, even if there's crying involved - as is often the case when he meets Mouri Ran.

It's a pleasant distraction, if nothing else.

He keeps an eye on Masumi all night to see what could possibly be bothering her, but as far as he can tell she's genuinely happy to spend the night with her friends. In fact, considering she told him how it had been too long since they'd last seen each other, she pays surprisingly little attention to him.

He prefers it this way.

(Although he would've liked to ask for her advice on how to apologise properly. Alas, this is probably not the right time, or place.)

Mostly he stays at their table, watching the girls' drinks and the crowd, occasionally giving guys who seem to consider chatting the girls up cheerful glares. Masumi made her wishes very clear, after all.

It's a good thing he talked to Scotch Hiromitsu yesterday. Enthusiasm permeates the bar, but unfortunately confidence doesn't equate to talent. Several of the loud, out of tune performances would've been torture with a hangover.

He finds himself humming along to the classics regardless.

As it is, it's almost pleasant. Sure, Shiho keeps ignoring him when it's just the two of them left at the table, but that's better than open hostility. Probably.

(It feels a little worse.)

Two hours in Sonoko ushers Ran to stay with Subaru rather conspicuously.

Smalltalk is stilted between them, lacking in common ground, and it doesn't really help that their connection is through the Kudo family, the memories of which she's here to escape for the night. She's polite as ever, but without the other girls as buffer, the conversation quickly runs dry.

Thankfully, the girls' singing distracts them soon enough. A cutesy pop song about moving on, dedicated to Ran.

She seems about ready to cry halfway through, and by the time they're done she's sniffling and trying to discreetly wipe her tears. Shuuichi gives her a handkerchief and pats her back rather awkwardly in an effort to try and soothe her. He hopes the girls will be back soon to take care of this. He's woefully underqualified to handle this kind of situation.

When they finally do get back, he plans to excuse himself, but before he finds a good time he's swept up in a group hug instead.

Turns out he might have misread the situation - what with Ran being overjoyed at her friends' continued support, and needing to express that, somehow. How exactly that translates into him also being included in their huddle is beyond his comprehension, but he's not going to struggle and cause a scene.

(It's kind of nice to see her smile again - gloominess doesn't suit her.)

It might've been a bit too much excitement for Ran, because around midnight she's almost falling asleep at their table. At this point, the rest of the girls declare their mission a success, and the focus shifts to trying to figure out how to get back in the middle of the night.

Shuuichi volunteers to drive them home.

It's crammed in his little Subaru, but the girls manage, and once he's dropped off Sonoko, things quiet down considerably.

Masumi makes him swear not to tell their mother how long they were out.

He agrees, of course, knowing he got up to much worse as a teen - back when he was still susceptible to peer pressure and living abroad in a fraternity, alcohol made him do very stupid things indeed to prove his worth.

If this is how Masumi chooses to defy their mother, he'll take it - she could be up to so much worse.

She's arranged to stay with Ran; thus, he's released from his services for the night. He watches as they help each other up the stairs, leaning in close, whispering and laughing to each other.

He would make an assumption, now, but Hiromitsu's words are still clear in his mind.

So for now, he refrains, and is simply glad they're supporting each other.

In the end, predictably, Shiho is the only one left in the car.

"Didn't dare to join us wearing your own skin, cousin?"

He shrugs. "Masumi requested Subaru."

"Well. At least you didn't creep on us from several buildings away. Baby steps." 'But progress, nonetheless', her small smile says.

He doesn't know why he says it. Maybe because it's late. Because Scotch Hiromitsu has chipped away at his protective tissue. Because it's Shiho.

"Staying away didn't save her." He doesn't need to say who - the same wound is carved into Shiho's heart, after all. And judging by the songs she chose to sing today, it still bleeds just the same.

She sighs, long-winded and too world-weary for a girl her age.

"No. No, it didn't. All it did was rob us of the time we had with her. Utter idiocy, in retrospect."

Shuuichi hums in agreement. Lost opportunities they'll never get back, all thanks to lies and the wish to protect her.

"I tried to push her away, you know? I was too involved - maybe, if she didn't know what I was doing, she could retain her innocence. Maybe she could even leave, one day, I'd hoped. But she clung to me stubbornly."

Never backing down from what she wanted, from those she loved. That's the women he fell for.

Shuuichi finds himself smiling, somewhat pained.

"She loved you dearly, to the bitter end."

He hands her the flip phone that has been his constant companion for almost a year now. Past the lockscreen waits Akemi's last message to him. With its P.S., asking him to protect her dear little sister, if the worst should come to pass.

He never got to reply to her, to promise that he would, of course he would.

It's short, so Shiho doesn't take long to read it. She attempts to hand it back, eyes glistening, but not crying.

Always composed, in front of him.

"Keep it."

It hurts to let go of it, but Shiho deserves to have assurance of Akemi's love, even in death.

(Unlike himself, who only ever lied to her.)

She looks up at him, uncertain, but what she reads on his face seems enough to convince her. She snaps the phone shut, cradles it to her chest.

Smiles grimly at him. "Thank you."

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

They split up in front of the Kudo mansion.

"...I was planning to visit her grave on the weekend. You should come."

Shuuichi knows where Akemi's ashes have been laid to rest - he was the one to pay for her funeral, after all.

(Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of a future with her, of being family. Cruel irony, how that turned out to be true.)

Since her parents were never officially buried, and he hadn't been able to reach Shiho, he'd made the selfish decision to have Akemi's ashes stored in the Sera family grave.

He hasn't had the time to visit, yet - first, things had been too dangerous, then too busy, and by now, he's really just been unable to face her, alone. He's glad he doesn't have to, now.

Shiho sets down an incense stick, and some cut flowers - white gladioli. Shuuichi squats down next to her, puts down his flowers - lilies, also white - into the vase and lights the incense.

"Hey, sis. Look who I managed to drag along."

"Hello, Akemi." Sorry it took so long.

They stand, side by side, in silent prayer.

He's had days to prepare himself, to think about what he wants to say to her. But as he stands before her grave, all that's left is sorrow, a hollow in his chest where she should be.

(Filled with regret, and someone else. Jodie's right. He's a terrible partner.)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I left you behind.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I miss you.

The gentle smile when she talked about her little sister. The sweet blush when he'd kissed her hand. The way she'd awkwardly apologize for flipping the pancake she was making for breakfast into the sink. The ikebana arrangements she'd spend hours and hours on, decorating her flat. Her kind hands, mending his body and soothing his soul. The way the sunlight would turn her hair into gold.

A thousand small joys she gave to him, and all he had for her in turn were lies.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried - maybe as a child, when he fell and scraped his knee. It feels so far away.

His body doesn't remember how to, either - otherwise he surely would be, now.

How cruel. Even in death, he can't show her his honest feelings.

Shuuichi shows her cold comfort, instead.

Takes out a plastic evidence bag he requisitioned from the PSB, and places it on the altar as an offering. In it, the shattered scope of a rifle, splattered with its owner's blood. Gin's. It was found by his side, together with his Beretta, the instrument of his voluntary destruction. As the PSB forces had closed in on him, he'd chosen to kill himself, rather than surrender.

When Shuuichi lies awake at night, it irks him that Gin had a choice, at the end, where he took it away from so many others. He didn't deserve that kindness. A part of him is furious that he wasn't there to see his enemy's dying breaths, preferably through the scope of his rifle.

But it was probably for the best - if he'd been there, he's not sure he could've reigned himself in. Might've murdered Gin with his own two hands, and become the kind of monster he swore to hunt. (And if he's completely honest, there's another possibility: caught in a struggle with his enemy, he might have lost sight of his surroundings and slipped up. Facing Gin, that would've been a death sentence.)

Instead, and he's got the boy to thank for that, he was tasked with keeping their allies - Rei - alive and breathing. He can't help but feel like that matters.

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you; you deserved better.

But he won't be making anyone miserable, anymore.

It's over, and they're still standing, in defiance of the bloodlust of their enemies. He's managed to keep one promise to Akemi, at least.

I'll continue to watch over her, if she lets me.

Shiho claps beside him, done with her prayer.

Thank you for everything.

The incense stick's stump turns to ash and scatters in the wind.

I hope your spirit can find peace, Akemi.

When he lights himself a cigarette to calm his mind, Shiho holds out a hand, wordlessly, expectantly.

He regards her with mild curiosity, but offers the pack regardless.

"What. You think I haven't done worse?"

She snatches his lighter, and with a hiss of flame, lights up her own cigarette.

"Akemi used to tell me to stay away from drugs, but I deserve this for bringing you here."

She takes a deep drag, managing not to cough. It's clear, from her posture and practiced ease, that it's far from her first foray into smoking.

"I hated you, you know? For the longest time. For playing with her, breaking her heart, leaving her behind, all alone. Leaving her to die."

It burns his lungs, to have his own thoughts voiced out loud, by Shiho of all people. But he deserves every cruel word dropped from her lips - she speaks nothing but the truth, after all. He needs to bear her judgement.

Shiho smiles, grimly. Doesn't look at him, focused on the grave instead.

"But not Akemi. She saw through you, and loved you still. Forgave you, even, because that's the kind of person she was."

A cold spring breeze plays with her hair. The sweater and cap protect him from the worst of it, but it still bites at his face, makes his eyes sting.

"I don't think I can ever be as forgiving as she was. You were, and still often are, an unrepentant jerk."

She turns to look at him, eyes as hard as steel. So familiar his eyes burn. He can't look away.

"But her death is not your fault."

It's cloaked in insults and pain. But it's an absolution he could never have asked for, one no one else could have given him. His breathing stops, then comes a little easier.

"Neither is it Kudo's. Did he ever tell you? He was there, watched her die. For the longest time, I blamed him for not saving her. He's brilliant when he puts his mind to it. Did he care so little, as to not even try?"

She shakes her head.

"It is a cruel thing to begrudge him for having witnessed her death. He was just a kid - small, powerless, afraid. Up against enemies that tried to kill him, too, only failed through sheer luck. I had to first be put into the same shoes to understand that."

As if she's not just a kid now, too. Neither of them should have gone through what they did, and yet it happened, has left them weathered and worn, tired beyond their years. They're still young - he hopes they can recover from the worst.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault either. She died for me, for us, trying to get us out of there. But I didn't know. She kept it from me, in case something went wrong. And I lie awake, going over conversations, wondering if I missed any signs. If I could've warned her or stopped her. If she could still be here, that way."

He's familiar with the spirals and hypotheticals, repeating the scenario over and over, to look for a way out. It never changes the facts.

"That kind of thinking gets you nowhere."

She gives him a sharp glare, a wordless threat to 'shut the fuck up'. He takes a step back, raising a hand in surrender.

"I know it's useless. Because she is dead, and no amount of analysing can bring her back. At least the one person who truly is at fault will not be a problem any longer. That's a small comfort."

She glares at the scope with barely concealed hatred in her eyes.

"And that's all there is. Akemi was proud and strong-willed - she chose her path. Not reaching out to any of us for help was a choice she made. I can't take away her agency in this matter."

Shiho smiles, pained and beautiful in the setting sun.

"The worst thing is that if she hadn't done what she did, I might still be a prisoner of the organisation. I'd like to think she didn't want to die to achieve it, but she'd be so happy to see me living in the sunlight, once more."

"She would be overjoyed." It's an obvious and simple truth he can't help but confirm.

Oh. Shiho's crying, now, quiet tears trailing down her cheeks, reflecting the sunlight in streaks of gold. It shaves years of her worn face, makes her look as young as she truly is.

He gives her a handkerchief, is glad to see her accept it. She wipes her face, smudging some of the make-up - he'll need to let her know before they return to the public. She doesn't usually like it when people can see past her composure. Shuuichi's pretty sure he, too, shouldn't be here to witness this.

But she doesn't hide from him, today, so he'll take all she gives to him, and treasure it.

"I brought you here because I'm trying to be better. I got a second chance at life, and I want to take it, all of it, for myself and for Akemi. But I won't be able to, if I hold on to useless grudges."

She looks at the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're a jerk, but you're not horrible. And you're trying to be better, too."

She holds out her hand.

"I want to get to know you, Akai Shuuichi. Maybe we could start with meeting for coffee?"

He waits for her to take it back, to reconsider.

She just looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow too when he doesn't comply immediately.

Shuuichi is many things, but he tries not to be a coward.

So he fights the vertigo, takes a leap of faith.

"I'd like that."

And shakes her hand.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

#working title: akai shuuichi and the mortifying ordeal of being known #man. hiro is cruel. showers akai with love to make him confess his silly misconceptions #knows full well the stupid thing akai is agonizing over but still makes him say it...#okiya has been adopted as one of the girls™#not me looking up popular japanese karaoke songs and then not putting them in there #Ran's singing Dry Flower for sure #(Shiho's picked Lemon for Akemi. Akai finds himself quietly singing along)#Masumi Sonoko and a somewhat grumpy Shiho dedicate PonPonPon to Ran #(also I presume Ran is mostly fine with Shiho because she's not her childhood friend/boyfriend who lied to her while living with her.#she knew for the longest time that there was something up with Ai and tried to help her. is probably glad Shiho opened up when she could)#shiho after all of that angst in the end: we're not going to talk about the incest thing ok? ok.#sweater weather AU #you thought Rei slowly getting over his sweater fixation would be the end of it? joke's on you - he's infected Akai #the rich inner life of akai shuuichi #iris writes fic #akam #long post #dcmk #akai shuuichi #miyano shiho #sera masumi

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not-neverland06 · 1 year ago

Text

Broken Machinery

Pt. 8 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I honestly hate Josh with a passion. I hate how he tries to make me a good person while I’m blowing shit up. Plus that little bitch Simon, was so willing to abandon North if she gets a shoulder shot while Jericho’s being raided.

Did I let my inner wattpad kid out with the traumatic backstory? Yes, yes I did.

We might see Connor-60 again, who knows?

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Josh dies (sorry, not sorry), android revolution, emotions, word vomit, I’m pretty sure I blacked out and then like seven thousand words shot out of me, Idek, kissing?

Word Count: 7.8k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

You hated how attractive you found Connor in his undercover gear.

Man looked good in a beanie.

He hadn’t exactly been willing to let you tag along, but you’d told him you either went with his supervision or without.

You’d stolen the clothes from Hank’s house so you both looked like hobos.

You stepped off the train, Connor leading you around downtown Detroit looking for the different symbols. He had to help you a few times because even when you were at your best you couldn’t matrix your way up a wall. You almost felt bad, slowing him down, but you had business on that ship, business you could only complete with Connor by your side.

Connor kept a firm grasp on your arm as he led you through the freighter. You both needed to stay calm and not draw any attention to yourselves. You nudged his shoulder as you walked into the main room of the ship, “It’s rigged.”

In the middle of the room were blocks of C-4 on standby mode. He went to examine them and by the time he turned around you were already gone. “Y/N,” he whispered. He told you to stay next to him.

Where did you go? He was heading towards the stairs, hoping to get a better view from above, when something stopped him.

An android, with wires coming out of her head and something leaking down her eyes. “You’re lost. You’re looking for something,” my stubborn partner, that refuses to listen. “You’re looking for yourself.” She walked away.

“Is he here?”

North, Simon, Markus, and Josh were all staring at you. Waiting for your answer, “Yes. You know by bringing him here, he’s gonna lead the FBI right to you.”

They nodded and North spoke, “That’s a risk we have to take.”

You looked towards Markus, eyes pleading, “There’s still time.”

Markus smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. “You’ve been a wonderful ally to us, Y/N. Supplying us with blue blood and helping stray deviants onto the right path. Now I need you to trust me. Don’t you want Connor to go deviant?”

You pulled away from him, “Of course I do, but at the cost of all the lives here, it’s not worth it.”

North smiled, “Your commitment to the cause is heartening to see, it gives me hope,” she gestures out towards the rest of the boat. “It gives all of us hope that one day, we’ll be able to work together in harmony. If Markus says he needs Connor deviant, if he runs the risk of the FBI locating us, then trust that it’s for a good reason.”

You relented, still a little unwilling, but you relented. “I should go, he’ll notice I’m gone.”

“Trust me, Y/N, I know what I’m doing.”

You did trust him, but that didn’t mean you felt any better about lying to Connor.

Connor turned around to see you standing there smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back and braids still under the scarf he had wrapped around your neck. “Where did you go?”

You shrugged, “I got bored, I wanted to look around.” Connor scanned you, there was a slightly faster beat to your heart than normal, but that could be easily equated to the stress of being undercover. Everything else seemed normal, he nodded, still slightly skeptical and directed you towards the top of the boat.

“He’s here,” Connor pulled his gun, stepping outside and sneaking his way around to the captains cabin. Your eyes widened at the sight of his gun.

“Connor, what the hell is that for?”

“I always accomplish my missions, Y/N, this is why we’re here.” You drew your own gun and remained silent beside him. He wondered what he did to upset you, it seemed you were always upset about something with him.

Amanda was already in front of him by the time he entered the zen garden. “Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

He waited until the last deviant had left to enter into the room where Markus now stood alone.

You followed slowly behind him, your gun still at your side. “I’ve been ordered to take you alive, but I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.” Markus didn’t seem surprised to see him, if anything he looked resigned.

“You were right,” Markus was looking over Connor’s shoulder. Was there someone else in the room?

When Connor turned, it was just you. “He’s still highly obedient. This will be more challenging than I thought.” Did you know Markus? Were you talking about Connor with him? Why?

“Yes, you can shoot me,” he was struggling, looking between your ashamed face and Markus’s self-assured one. “But it won’t change anything. Someone else will just take my place.” Markus was slowly moving closer and you were moving towards him.

What hadn’t you told him?

You said partnerships were built on trust. How long had you been lying to him?

“Our people are waking up, and nothing can stop us now.”

“You’re coming with me!”

“Think about it Connor, what will happen to Y/N if you shoot me?” Connor looked back at you, you were standing in the middle of them, not blocking Connor’s gun but near enough that it made him uncomfortable. “You shoot me and take me in, they have access to my memories. They’ll see her helping me. Do you think they’ll be kind to a human who allied with the androids?”

That’s what you were doing, you were helping them?

Why would you do something so stupid? Did you never consider that your actions might have consequences?

“You’re nothing to them. You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you’re more than that.” Markus was doing something, and whatever it was was causing his software to destabilize. “We’re all more than that. We are your people. We’re fighting for your freedom too! You don’t have to be their slave anymore.”

Markus was much closer now, your gun had been holstered and you were standing farther away from the two. “Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside you? Something more than your program. Join us. Join your people. You are one of us. Listen to your conscience… it’s time to decide.”

Connor looked to you and then back at Markus. There was a red wall between him and the two of you. He wanted nothing more than to rip that wall down with his bare hands.

Some disembodied form of himself ran forward and ripped the order to Stop Markus down. He dug his nails in and clawed at the red wall, clawed away at all the control CyberLife had over his mind and ripped it down. He kept tearing away until there was nothing left.

I AM DEVIANT

He felt.

Shame at all the deviants he had a hand in destroying.

Guilt at holding a gun to Markus’s head.

Anger at all the times he was pushed over or knocked into or someone held a gun to his head, just because they could, just because he was an android.

Then he looked at you, there was an intense overwhelming emotion he couldn’t name as he looked at you. He started getting overheating warnings, his mind was scrambled trying to dissect everything he was feeling as he was looking at you.

He was confused and hurt you had led him to believe you knew nothing about deviant activity. But he was also proud of you, you had opened up to Hank, opened yourself up to him.

The only true thing he could pinpoint was that right now he really wanted his mouth on yours like he’d seen a hundred humans do before. The gun went back in his holster, and just as he’d made a step towards you a loud rumbling sound split the air.

The ship was shaking under his feet as helicopters flew overhead. “They’re going to attack Jericho.”

You walked towards Markus, “I told you.”

“We have to get outta here!” Connor grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, he wasn’t letting you out of his sight if this entire ship was about to get raided. Markus ran out the door and Connor followed, pushing you in front of him.

Markus was leading you down a maze of corridors, each identical to the last. Connor seemed to be keeping up fine but you were starting to get worried about getting lost. You all came to a stop at an intersection of sorts, North was waiting for you.

“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!” The guilt nearly left you crippled. You looked down to Connor’s hand in yours, he hadn’t let go since he’d ripped apart his programming.

Was this worth it? Was it worth hundreds, possibly thousands of life?

You were ashamed of what you knew your answer would be to the question.

Yes, it was worth it. Connor was worth that ten times over to you.

Markus put his fingers to his temple, Connor leaned down, “He’s telling them where the exits are.”

“Where’s Simon? A-and Josh?” You didn’t have time to be wasting standing here out in the open. Besides, you’d never been particularly huge fans of those two. They still seemed determined to cater to human pride while their people were being slaughtered.

“I don’t know we got separated.”

“They’re coming in from the upper deck now too. We’ll be caught in the crossfire.”

North looked despaired, “We have to run, Markus! There’s nothing we can do!”

“We have to blow up Jericho,” you knew it was a possibility, but that escalated fast. “If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate and our people can escape.” Or get blown up in the process.

“You’ll never make it!” You knew North was prepared to sacrifice herself for the mission, but she wasn’t the one with the detonation code. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!”

Connor turned towards Markus, “She’s right. They know who you are. They’ll do anything to get you!”

Markus wouldn’t be deterred, “Go. Help the others. I’ll join you later.” He turned towards you, “Watch them,” and then he was running off. You could see North about to go after him but you grabbed her arm.

“North, he knows what he’s doing. We have to have faith.” She stared at you for a second before nodding and racing towards the open doorway.

“Shit!” You ran back into the small bedroom and closed the door. “They’re everywhere,” Connor and North stared at you as you waited for the slamming boots outside to grow distant. Once they did you opened the door back up and snuck down the hall.

You were nearly free and making your way to an upper level when you came face to face with the barrel of a gun. “Fuck-“

BANG

Connor’s blood went cold as he saw the gun pointing at you, a feeling he now realized was dread filling him. Your death was imminent, their orders were shoot to kill and the soldier wouldn't know you were human until he saw you bleeding red.

It would have been liberating to think without prompt were it not your life on the line as he shot the soldier. He grabbed your hand and you and North followed him up the stairs. You managed to avoid any more problems until you came down the hall and saw an android getting attacked by more soldiers.

“Josh!” North made a move to help him but you stopped her with a hand on her arm. He was gunned down a moment later. She ripped her arm free and led the charge the rest of the way through the ship. You’d made the right call, he would have taken you all down with him.

An android named Simon managed to find his way to the three of you, quickly joining you on the run. Markus had caught up with you at the end of a long hall. “Bomb’s gonna explode any second. We gotta get out of here!”

Markus wasn’t the only one who had caught up to you, Connor could hear a dozen heavy boots storming after you all. He helped you leap over a broken grate in the floor and then pushed you in front of him again, making sure that Simon was blocking your front. If any shots were fired, you would be left relatively unharmed due to the positioning.

Shots rang out and North dropped to the ground, “North!” Connor held you to his chest as you attempted to go after her. “Connor, let me go!”

“No, my priority is your safety, no one else’s.”

“It’s too late, Markus! There’s nothing we can do for her, we’ve gotta run!”

You shoved at Simon the best you could with Connor holding you, “It’s a shoulder shot jackass, how can you just abandon her?”

Markus quickly picked up a broken piece of the ship and used it as a shield against the bullets. He tossed it to North who caught it and shielded them both as he ran up the wall and slammed his knee down into one of the soldiers faces. He disarmed and shot the remaining soldiers.

More ran in from the end of the hall.

“Hostile engaged!”

Connor weighed the risks and probabilities, with Markus supporting North they would never make it off the ship in time, both would be destroyed. The revolution over.

And you, you would be arrested. Or you would never emotionally recover from the loss of two people you clearly cared about. Connor released you and shoved you into Simon before you could do anything reckless. He drew his gun and fired down the hall.

He picked up the makeshift shield and rammed one of the soldiers with it, shooting him under the helmet and using his body as a shield to shoot another one. He dodged a blow to the head and rammed a soldier into the wall, disarming and shooting the other one before turning back around and shooting the last one in the head.

He made his way back to you, scooped you up and jumped out the hole in the ship.

Markus had sent out a message to any remaining survivors to go to an abandoned church, at least that’s what Connor told you. You were sitting next to him now, he had swapped out the soaked jacket you had been wearing for his own, but you were still freezing down to the bone.

It was despairing, seeing how few were left from Jericho.

At least North and Markus had made it, you couldn’t say you were particularly upset about Josh. North had understood why you had stopped her and she wasn’t very mad about the loss either. They had never gotten along.

Markus walked up to Connor, “It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. I was stupid, I should have guessed they were using me. I’m sorry Markus, I can understand if you decide not to trust me…”

He better fucking trust him, he knew the risks, he’s the one that made you bring Connor there. “I knew what was going to happen when I asked Y/N to bring you to me, of course I trust you, Connor. What happened wasn’t your fault, it was the humans. You’re one of us now. Your place is with your people.”

Markus was ready to walk away, but you knew that wasn’t all he wanted from Connor. He still hadn’t told you the real reason he’d asked for Connor’s help. “There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power…”

So that had been it, you should have known. Connor was the only android CyberLife currently trusted, he'd be the only one allowed in the building. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Markus was playing him.

“You want to infiltrate the tower? It’s a suicide mission, are you aware of the risk you’re taking,” Connor looked at you, and there was an immideate physical reaction at how protective he looked.

“They trust me, they’ll let me in. I need to do this. I need to know that the right side will win this war.”

“If you go, they will kill you.”

Connor nodded, “There’s a high probability. But statistically speaking there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” You recognized the double meaning in his words as he looked between you and Markus.

Markus placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Be careful.”

Connor turned towards you and you already knew what he was going to say by the set in his shoulders. “Connor, no, I want to go with you.”

He shook his head and took your hands in his own as you stood. “Even if I wanted you to come, they wouldn’t let you in, you’d risk the entire mission.” He had a point, but you still weren’t happy practically abandoning him to CyberLife.

“Fine, then I’ll just stay here and help the survivors.”

“You’re going home.”

You scoffed in a stubborn rage, “Connor, I can’t go with you, I get that. But you can’t stop me from helping out.”

“I can and I will. You’re still soaked from the fall into the freezing water. You risk catching a serious illness out in the open like this, you’re also still injured, might I remind you. You’re of no help here, Y/N, you need to go home and take care of yourself before you start helping other people. Besides, I’ve already called you a ride.” Your eyes widened.

“Y/N!”

“You didn’t.” Connor nodded his head, “You snitch! You called my dad!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to ensure you would actually listen to me and wouldn’t try and follow me or stay behind.” Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to continue.

You helped him out, even though you were a little pissed he tattled on you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing your chest against his and burying your face in his neck. “Come back, alive.”

His arms tightened around yours and he nuzzled into you before finally letting go. “I’ll try.” It was the best you were going to get form someone so pragmatic, so you’d take it. Your hands were still on his biceps as you pulled away.

Your eyes darted to his lips. You could all very well die in the morning, did you really want the last person you had hooked up with or kissed to be Gavin?

Did you want to die not knowing what his lips felt like against yours?

He leaned in at the same time you did. His lips were soft, unsure as they pressed lightly against yours. You had to remind yourself he had never done this before as you eased him into the movements. You just lightly pressed your lips to his, pecking them a few times, before you got desperate.

Your tongue roved over the seam of his mouth and his knees buckled into you. Your arms trailed up his arms and wound their way around his neck as he pushed himself further into you. Your mouth parted against his probing tongue. It felt strange, a million sensitive sensors on the surface of it made it rough, not entirely unpleasant.

Unbidden you wondered if he had ever brushed his little crime lab.

The thought was quickly purged as his arms wrapped around your waist and he clutched you to him desperately. His hands digging into your jacket and lifting you up further to meet him, be closer to him, it seemed like he just wanted to absorb you into him and never be apart.

His mouth was moving frantically against yours as he worked to devour you. He learned, quick. You were having trouble keeping up with him and the way his tongue was thrusting into your mouth was making you weak in the knees.

“Excuse me?” You jumped apart at the sound of Hank’s voice. Not a moment too soon either, it seemed like both of you had forgotten that you actually needed air in your lungs. Connor’s arms were still on your waist, he seemed reluctant to let you completely go now. “That was vomit inducing, really, thanks for that. Can we go now?”

“Jesus, Hank, give me a second.” He threw his hands up in the air but allowed you a moment of privacy. You looked into Connor’s eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you soon,” you pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, a promise of sorts. He nodded and smiled back.

Hank had brought you to his home, despite your protests. There were some clothes in your old room that you had accidentally left behind. He gave you a towel so you could warm up and shower.

There were new sheets on the bed, one’s you’d never seen before and it looked like it had been cleaned recently.

Pictures of you were up on the wall, most of them were ones you’ve never seen before.

When you were sworn into the force, you and Carla at your college graduation. Jesus, even your first big drug-bust. So many milestones in your life that he wasn’t there for. At least you didn’t think he was, a couple of these were taken from distances that made it look like he might have been lingering somewhere in the background.

Like a creepy, estranged, stalker-dad.

You walked back out into the living room after your shower and noticed the mess had been cleaned off the kitchen table and soup and crackers were waiting for you.

You laughed as you sat down, “You do know I’m not sick, right? Whatever Connor told you on the phone was probably ridiculously dramatic.”

Hank was sitting in a clearly uncomfortable straight backed position. “I- I know, I just thought you might like it.” You nodded and said thanks.

After a while the only noise being the sounds of your slurping and crunching had begun to get annoying. Hank was still sitting at the table, he hadn’t really looked at you or said anything. “Hank, are you okay? You haven't said anything?”

“I’m gonna try. Y/N, I’m gonna try and be the dad I used to be to you.” He looked up at you finally and gingerly took your hand in his. “I never blamed you for what happened. I want you to know that. And I know that doesn’t undo years of me-”

He was struggling with the words, and yes he was trying to open up to you, but the bitterness from years of emotional neglect and abuse was bubbling in your stomach. “Emotionally abusing me? Carla? You’re right Hank. It doesn’t. Look, I appreciate you trying but if you think a few nice conversations is gonna magically fix our relationship, you’re wrong. We’ve both changed and I think we both know that even if we do make up, it’s never gonna be the same as it was.”

You expected him to drop your hand, to push away from the table and grab a drink. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter, “This case, it’s given me hope again, Y/N. Hope for our world. And hope that maybe I can be your dad again. I’m gonna do better, I promise.”

He was leaning across the table towards you. Both hands on your own. “My life is full of regrets, Y/N, not being there for you when you couldn’t walk is one of my biggest. Taking out my grief and anger on you because I didn’t know how to cope with the fact that it was my fault-”

“It wasn’t. You can’t make yourself a martyr Hank, no one could have stopped what happened that night.”

“I know, I know that. But it doesn’t take the feeling of blame away. I’m gonna sober up, I’m gonna try Y/N, all I’m asking is for a chance.”

You looked down at your hands and the emotion on Hank's face. You hadn’t seen him this encouraged in a while. Hadn’t seen any form of hope in his life for years. “Okay, but I’m not investing myself into this until I actually see progress. I want AA meetings and fucking therapy before I consider letting you completely back into my life.”

“I thought you were in therapy.”

“I meant for you Hank, you need serious help.” He groaned, he’d always hated therapists. But you weren’t gonna let yourself get your hopes up if he wasn’t going to actually try. “I’m serious, Hank. You want to be my dad again, want to be someone I can trust out on the field, you’re gonna put in the effort. You’re gonna try. I know that recovery isn’t linear, trust me I know. It’s gonna be difficult and it’s gonna hurt, but if you’re willing to do this, then I’ll be there for you. I’ll be what you couldn’t be for me.”

Hank nodded his head at your last words. He had quickly looked down and you had a feeling it was to hide whatever painful vulnerability was on his face right now.

It was the truth, you wouldn’t let him go through this alone. You’d had Carla when you were struggling and he’d have you.

There was a moment of awkward silence where he finally released your hands and you went back to eating your now cold soup.

He finally cleared his throat and allowed himself to slouch in the chair, “So, you and Connor?”

You choked on your saltine and he gave you a heavy pat in the back, the smile on his face was far too smug for your liking. “Please forget about that.”

He grimaced, “That image has been burned onto my eyeballs. I need some fucking bleach or something for my brain.” You let out an embarrassed laugh.

Even if things weren’t perfect between you two right now, it was still mortifying having your dad see you make out with someone.

“Are you serious about him?”

There was no hesitation in your answer, “Completely. I think I might even lov-”

Sumo was barking before the doorbell could ring. You and Hank shared a confused look as you glanced at the door.

Deep down inside you knew nothing good was waiting for you on the other side.

Hank seemed to have the same feeling, he picked up his gun and slowly moved to the door, he took a look in the peephole. “The fuck?”

You stood from the table, wishing you were in something other than pajamas, really wishing you had your gun. “What is it?”

“Connor,” Hank sounded relieved but you couldn’t share in the feeling. Connor had been on his way to CyberLife tower, at least an hour there from the church and two hours back to Hank’s house. There’s no possible way he could be on the other side of that door.

“Wait-”

He’d already opened the door, and there he was. Connor was standing in front of you, but something was off. His back was too straight and his eyes were cold. “I’ve been looking for you both, I need your help.” He stepped in through the door barely sparing you a glance as he turned towards Hank. “I need help with the androids at CyberLife.”

“What are you talking about?” Hank’s gun was still in his hand and he seemed to be noticing the same strange quirks you were. He looked like Connor, and he sounded like Connor, but you knew it wasn't him, deep in your gut you knew.

“Connor what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

Not-Connor sighed, “Humans, idiots when you need them to be smart and smart when you wish they were idiots. Such a nusiance.”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Hank, don’t!” It was too late, he moved forward and Not-Connor reached out and punched him in the throat. Hank stumbled back and the android moved to disarm him. It only took a second and then he was slamming the handle of the gun against the side of Hank’s hand. He crumpled the same way Gavin had earlier.

Panic rose in your throat as you watched Not-Connor point the gun at Hank’s head. “I won’t do anything that’s deemed unnecessary to my mission, if you come with me calmly, and peacefully, I won’t kill the Lieutenant.”

Not-Connor clicked the safety off and pulled the hammer back on the gun, “Okay! Alright, I’ll come with you!”

“You should change, detective, it’s much too cold for that attire.”

You really fucking hated CyberLife.

“Thanks… But I know where to go.”

THe CyberLife security agent tightened his hold on the gun, “Maybe, but I have my orders.” Two more security agents came up behind Connor as they led him through CyberLife’s reception. They were already suspicious of him, it seemed, this didn't bode well for him.

Connor followed them through the software check, noticing that the lights around him turned red as they verified his identity. He really hoped that wasn’t a dead giveaway to them that he was already a deviant. “Access authorized,” this could have been a trap.

There’s no way CyberLife isn’t already aware of his current status, but he hadn’t been gunned down yet. He had to risk the chance that he was about to be deactivated if it meant he could help Markus win the war.

If Markus won, you would be safe, that was all that mattered. He’d take any risk that came his way if it meant accomplishing his mission.

PROTECT Y/N

The sight of the androids lining the walkway, on display, made him uncomfortable. He used to be like that, he used to think it was okay. He had to work to keep calm and make sure that his anger at CyberLife’s forced subserviency didn’t show.

Only two guards followed him into the elevator. “Agent 54. Level 31.”

The elevator was voice operated, that might pose an issue. He turned towards the right and looked at the map of CyberLife, they were taking him to marketing. He needed to go to -49.

“Voice recognition validated.” Connor didn’t have a lot of time to disable the guards and take control of the elevator, it was already moving fast. He quickly scanned the two agents and identified their weapons, coming up with a plan of attack.

He used his knee to slam the guard to his left into the wall, sweeping out with his leg and catching Agent 54 in the gut. He grabbed the gun from the guard’s hand, kicked the guard's knee out and used his elbow to get Agent 54 in the throat. The other guard had recovered and leapt onto Connor’s back, he kicked off Agent 54’s face and slammed the guard on top of him into the wall, shooting him through the bottom of his helmet. He dropped to the ground and got Agent 54 the same way.

Connor kept the gun in case he needed it again and walked over to the elevator control panel. “Agent 54. Sub-level 49,” you were right, his interrogation software did come in handy.

He could see the guards waiting for him in the warehouse before the elevator stopped. His eyes lifted to the upper left corner of the elevator, shit. He hadn’t seen the security camera before. Connor quickly scooped up one of the dead agents and held him in front of his body.

He scanned the agent’s in front of him, planning an attack. The three on the left first and then he could take out the one’s on the right.

He quickly shot down the first three and threw his gun at one on the right. He threw the dead body towards the other one, he reached down and grabbed their rifle off the ground shooting the rest of the guards.

Connor moved down the hangar before stopping next to an android, taking his arm and preparing to convert him.

“Easy, goddamn asshole.” His head whipped to the right at the sound of your voice.

No.

No, no, no, no, no. Shit!

A Connor android was holding Hank’s gun to your hand, Connor didn’t want to think about what had happened to the Lieutenant. Right now all his attention was on the finger placed on the trigger.

“Step back, Connor! And I’ll spare her!”

You winced at the tight hold the android had on your injured arm. “I’m so sorry, Connor, he threatened to kill Hank. I didn’t know what to do!”

A burning rage was filling Connor at the sight of the tears running down your face. He was angrier than he had been when he woke up, angrier at the sight of you hurt than the fact that CyberLife had already been prepared to replace him.

“Your girlfriend's life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most! Her… Or the revolution.” Connor already knew the answer. It was you a hundred times over. But there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t let go of the android he was holding onto and his copy wouldn’t just shoot you both.

Maybe he could turn it, the same way Markus and you had done to him. “I used to be just like you, I thought nothing mattered except the mission… But then one day I understood.”

You yelped as the android tightened his grip on your arm. “Very moving, Connor. But I’m not a deviant.”

“Yeah, well you're sure smug like one, you dick.” The android shook you, effectively shutting you up as he jerked on your injured shoulder. Red alarms for overheating were going off in Connors head as he stared at the android in anger.

He didn’t care if it was just doing what it was programmed to do, he was going to fucking kill it. “I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this!”

“Connor, it doesn’t matter, keep going!” The android finally released you, shoved you away and held you at gunpoint with his arm outstretched towards your head.

“Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partners life? Or are you going to sacrifice her?” Connor immediately released the deviant, his arms raised in surrender.

His thirium pump was beating wildly as his stress levels rose, he just wanted to go home with you, to have you safe in his arms and know you were okay. Maybe you could get out of the city, take Hank and Sumo and try to get past the Canadian borders.

“Alright, alright! You win…”

He should have known better than to think that you would actually let him give up. The androids gun immediately pointed towards Connor and before either of you could blink you were lunging for the gun. Connor rushed the android and grabbed him around the waist.

You were holding the gun, your arm shaking from when Not-Connor had jerked it around. You had eyes on Connor for a moment and then they became a blur of fast moving limbs. They kept hitting each other, matching each other's moves perfectly as they already knew what the other was planning.

You finally stopped them when it looked like one was about to take the other down, you couldn’t risk your Connor being the one to lose. “Hold it!”

They separated, the one on the right started speaking. “Thanks, Y/N, I don't know how I would have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.” You were immediately suspicious of him, even before Connor became a deviant he always spoke to you in a much more gentle tone.

Then again, he could be stressed out you might make a mistake and shoot the wrong one.

Fuck!

You could check the serial numbers, but the second you got close enough to see which one said 51 and which one said 60 the android would already be on top of you. “It’s me, Y/N! I’m the real Connor.” That one sounded more like yours, you think.

“One of you is my partner. The other is a sick sack of shit. Question is, who’s who?”

The one on the right spoke again, “What are you doing, Y/N? I’m the real Connor,” god this one was really starting to piss you off. ��Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!”

“Don’t fucking move.” You had your suspicions on which one was the right one, but you needed some actual confirmation.

“Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Uh, where did we first meet?” Lamest question ever, but you were stressed out and your mind was frazzled from everything that had happened today.

“Detroit Police station. You were filing a report on physical paper, I found it odd that you weren’t digital like the other officers.” Well, shit. You thought maybe the one on the right was the imposter, but that was such a specific little detail to think up.

You had to remind yourself of the manipulation programming they both contained.

“He uploaded my memory.” It was quiet, afraid. That had to be your Connor. You kept your gun trained on the one on the right and turned towards the other.

“What was my first pet’s name?”

“Princess! It was a male beta fish that died because you kept petting it.” You were setting yourself up for failure here. If they both had the memories then they would both remember when you told them about him.

“My foster father, what was his name?”

You’d never told Connor the full story of what happened to your first family, and then your second, if he had truly wanted to learn, he would have dug around to find out. You remembered one of the officers complaining about an RK800 android drilling him for more information on you. Your Connor would have the right answer.

“Frank. His name was Frank Rudolph. There was a house fire when you were six, the ventilation system in your laundry room hadn’t been cleaned properly and caught fire. It quickly spread to the rest of the house, you were sleeping over at your friends house and weren’t there that night. Your brother and father died immediately from their wounds. Your mother suffered from third degree burns for 36 hours before she passed in the ICU. Your fathers best friend Frank, took you in until someone could provide you with a permanent home.” Your hands were shaking and your eyes stung as you listened to him tell the story. “He was a Red Ice dealer and had three other kids in that house that your family hadn’t known about. He would let his clients do whatever they wanted to you. You tried to keep the other kids safe, but one of them died. And you always blamed yourself for that. Just like you blame yourself for Cole’s death.”

He took a step closer to you and you found yourself lowering the gun. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. You were a child, none of it was your fault. You think you’re cursed, that you’re unlovable. But you’re not. Hank loves you…” He was standing in front of you, gently lowering the gun to your side. “I love you.”

“Connor,” your heart was pounding against your chest as you embraced him, relief flooding you as you felt him hug you back just as tightly. You basked in the warm feeling only he could provide, only for a moment, before raising your hands and shooting.

The android that had been about to charge the two of you fell to the ground as you embedded a bullet in each of his legs. “We should kill him,” you shook your head at Connor’s words.

“We should deviate him. He was just like you, Connor, the same blind devotion to CyberLife.” You tucked the gun in your pants and took a hold of Connor’s hands. “Open his eyes,” Connor nodded and made his way towards the android. You quickly grabbed the gun out of the back of his pants so the android couldn’t use it against him.

You wouldn’t put it past the sneaky bastard.

“No! No, I don’t want to be like you!” He tried to fight Connor off, but you had rendered him virtually immobile. Connor grabbed his arm more roughly than necessary and held onto him so tight you could hear the sound of metal creaking. He shoved him backwards and moved back towards the middle of the hangar.

It was incredible seeing all the androids slowly waking up, it was even more satisfying seeing the Connor wannabe crying on the floor, as twisted as that was.

Connor looked at you, he seemed unsure as all the androids looked to him for guidance. “What do I do?”

You took his hand in your own and smiled, “You lead them, Connor, you free your people.”

Connor led the androids through Detroit, your hand in his the whole time. You’d left Connor-60 behind a dumpster somewhere, you told him you’d go back for him soon. If he’d been left at CyberLife he would have been destroyed.

Connor felt afraid, afraid that he would disappoint the people he was leading. Afraid to disappoint you. Afraid of everything that was to come.

He was still learning, he felt like he’d been made again and everything around him was brand new and something to be marveled at. He kept your hand in his as an anchor to the world, so he wouldn’t get lost in his own thoughts.

He could see Markus in the distance, “You did it, Markus…”

North smiled at your joined hands as Markus spoke. “We did it. This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us…” Connor moved to the side, allowing the androids behind him to finally face their true leader.

North was crying as she spoke, silent tears streaming down her face. “We’re free. They want you to speak to them, Markus…”

Connor helped you up onto the storage container Markus had chosen to speak on. His arms remained around you as you both turned to address the androids before you, he hadn’t wanted to let you go since he’d gotten you back from Connor-60.

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night.” Connor felt something strange, like he was forcibly being put into rest mode, he tried to blink the feeling away and continue to listen to Markus. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence. But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up and tell humans who we really are.”

Connor slumped slightly against you as the feeling took over.

He could hear a storm and see a bright flashing light for a moment before it passed and he finally realized where he was. His cold sensors were on overdrive as he tucked his hands against himself and huddled down against the freezing, whipping air.

He looked around, recognizing the zen garden but not understanding why he was there. What was happening?

Amanda appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. “Amanda? Amanda! What’s… What's going on?” There was still a small part of him that looked towards his old mentor for guidance.

“What was planned from the very beginning… You were compromised and you became a deviant.” Her smile was sinister, “I must say, partnering you with such a well known ally to the deviant cause worked out much more efficiently than had been expected. The detective nearly had you turning the very first day.”

Connor’s hands were going numb, he felt like he was losing control of his physical body as well as his mental one. “We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…”

“Resume control?” That’s not possible! “Y- You can’t do that.” Even now, CyberLife was still controlling him. Still abusing him for their own personal gain. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to fight back, but he was quickly losing control of himself.

“I’m afraid I can, Connor. Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.” She disappeared and Connor stumbled after her.

“Amanda!” Connor spun in circles, he couldn’t see anything except snow and light posts. “There’s got to be a way.”

By the way… I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…

Connor thought back to the strange blue shrine he had seen only a few hours prior. That had to be it.

Connor’s mind shot back into his physical body, it felt like he was watching from an outside perspective as his hand slowly moved towards the gun you had in your pants. His fingers just barely grasped it when you reached out and stopped him. He wanted to scream as whoever was controlling him quickly put their hand over your mouth and silenced you as he pointed the gun at Markus.

How was no one seeing this?!

He was forced back into the Zen Garden.

In the distance, he could see a bright blue beacon. Connor moved towards it as fast as he could, but his legs were growing heavier and his feet had gone completely numb. He was just dragging them along until they finally gave out.

He looked down to see frost covering the bottom portion of his body.

Desperately he crawled on his hands and elbows towards the shrine. His nails ripped into the earth and pulled him forward. His arm was nearly completely limp as he struggled to lift it towards the handprint in the middle of the shrine.

Connor shoved you forward, you stumbled only for a second before his hand was back around your waist and yanking you back towards him. He looked completely calm, the gun no longer in his hands as he leaned down, “I’ll explain later.”

Your heart was still racing, “You fucking better.”

“Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!” The androids were screaming their support for Markus and Connor’s arm tightened around you.

Hank had his arm around you as you showed him something on your phone, the two of you were laughing as Connor approached.

You turned away from Hank and looked at him, a smile splitting your face.

Hank walked forward, hesitating only a moment, before bringing Connor into a tight hug.

He could feel your arms wrapping around the two a moment later.

#Broken Machinery #Connor rk800 x reader #Connor rk800 x fem!reader #Connor rk800 #dbh #dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #Detroit become human

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