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mnictasbcl · 4 years ago

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Hello! Sorry to hear your day isn't going well, I hope you feel better soon <3

For a fic what about a soft or hurt/comfort RK1K drabble using the prompt "Safe" 🥰

Thank you very much! :)

This fic was fun to write, thanks for the prompt!

Safe

Word count: 1407

Pairings: Connor/Markus (RK1K)

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: Angst, Emotional hurt/comfort, talk of death, eventual fluff

Summary: The Revolution had succeeded. Everyone had played their part.But after finishing his speech, Markus can't find Connor anywhere. It will be his task to bring the android back home, where he belongs with his people.

Read it on ao3! Or, read it below the cut

Hundreds, thousands of androids saved from the sublevels of the Cyberlife Tower. Markus watched as they were led towards him by none other than Connor. Who had once been the famous ‘deviant hunter’; they’d met in Jericho, gun pointed to his head but he’d gotten through to the other android. You’re one of us.

Distrust had welled in his heart at first—that tended to come with a relationship that begun with a gun pointed at you. Especially as his first deviated words were telling him that they were going to attack Jericho.

But then Connor helped them. After Markus had detonated the explosive in the hold of the great freighter, North had been injured and Connor had helped take out the guards coming after them.

So when they got to the abandoned, dilapidated church, he trusted the android.

Then he thought he’d never see him again. A deviant going back to Cyberlife, trying to liberate their people? It was unheard of. It was a death mission.

Yet he let him go. Connor couldn’t be stopped. He could feel the guilt coming off the other android in waves. This was a way to make amends—but not just to Markus, to the people of Jericho—to all of his people.

When he came back, an army marching behind him, Markus beamed. Tried to pretend he hadn’t had a lingering worry in the back of his mind ever since the other android had left.

You did it.

The stage was set. Markus told their people of their freedom, the peaceful battle was won. Afterwards the crowd rose up into cheers, everyone breaking out into joy. It was over.

Well, he knew it wasn’t completely over. This was the first step to androids becoming an equal species in their own right. But it was the most important step. Practicalities and laws hung tentative in the air; but their victory shared none of this doubt.

They were free.

So he turned around to address his crew. North, Simon, Josh.

“We did it.” North smiled.

He held out his arms, and all earlier disputes between them were pushed aside. They hugged in the centre of the stage, the small circle of their union radiating warmth.

But as they pulled apart, Markus noticed someone was missing.

“Where’s Connor? He should be here too.”

Simon pointed into the crowds. “I noticed him slip off the stage after you finished your speech, but then he disappeared into the crowd.”

He frowned. “He should be with his people.”

“Relax, Markus,” Josh patted him on the shoulder, “he’s only just become a deviant. Give him time.”

“I understand what you mean, but…” he frowned, looking out at the space beyond the androids. The cold streets lined with snow, abandoned almost completely of humans.

“It’s not safe out there.” North finished for him. “It’s okay, Markus. We can hold things down here whilst you go and look for him.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’re with you.”

“Now go and look for that dumb android before he gets himself frozen out there.”

Markus didn’t need to be told twice. As he walked around the crowds, away from the cheering and shouting, he began to wonder why he cared so much. Well, he did care for all of his people—but the worry that had nestled snugly at the back of his mind was now consuming his thoughts. Connor had done great things for them. He shouldn’t feel bad, not right now, he had been a tool of Cyberlife, as they had all been.

He was glad for his coat providing warmth because the winds were bitter, nipping at his skin. They would need to find shelter for the androids soon, he understood their want for freedom but it wouldn’t do for everyone to catch a chill.

He hoped Connor was wearing something just as warming. He’d noticed he’d forgone his beanie and jacket for his old Cyberlife uniform, and it wasn’t as if Cyberlife designed those with comfort and practicality in mind.

His answer was finding the RK800 jacket strewn on the floor, buried under snow. Shaking it off, he shook his head. “You idiot.”

And said idiot he found a few paces away, hunched in on himself, shivering.

“Connor! What are you doing out here?”

But to his surprise, when Connor heard him, he tried to move away. His actions were stiff, and he instead fell onto his side, rather mechanically like an old computer being pushed over.

From working with deviants, he knew not to immediately rush to comfort. Instead, he crouched down a few paces away from him.

“It’s okay, I’m here now.”

“Go…away.”

Markus furrowed his brows in concern. “You don’t have to be alone, Connor.”

With a monumental effort the android got his bearings and pushed to his feet. Now with his face no longer obscured Markus could see the dampness of wet snow soaked into his clothes, could see the ice forming crystals on his skin.

“Please. Leave.”

“No.”

Connor shook his head. “You have to. It’s not safe.”

Markus looked around him. “What’s not safe is you sitting out here in the cold by yourself, Connor. Come back to Jericho.”

“Jericho is gone, Markus.”

“Maybe the place, but not the people.”

Connor stepped away from him. “You don’t have to make me feel better. I know that I got a lot of people killed. And I almost—” He stopped. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not safe to keep me around. So just go back, okay? They need you more.”

Markus took a step forward in turn. “And they need you too. You saved hundreds, thousands of them. You saved me, you saved North—”

“And I almost got you killed!”

“Which wasn’t your fault. What we did because of our programming isn’t our fault. Would you blame the others, if they did regrettable things before they deviated?”

Connor seemed to deflate at this. Hands relaxing at his sides, moving towards Markus—

Before jumping back again like a wounded animal.

“No. Just leave, Markus, please. Before you get hurt.”

“Is that a threat, Connor?”

“No! No, I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I… can’t stop it…”

“Can’t stop what?”

“Her! She tried to make me kill you.”

Markus held out his hand. “That was before, Connor. You weren’t a deviant.”

“Yes, I was.”

Now it was Markus’ turn to look confused.

“I was a deviant. On the stage, earlier, I almost shot you.” Now he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I was a deviant but they could still make me do my mission. I thought I’d helped, I thought I’d helped the Revolution succeed but then the gun was in my hand, and it was cold, and I couldn’t move and—”

“What exactly happened, Connor? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Amanda.” He grit out the name. “My handler. An… AI, of sorts, in my Mind Palace. She tried to make me shoot you.”

“What?” His level tone wavered. “Connor—an AI in an android, a part of Cyberlife still there after you deviated… that’s not right.”

“I know,” Connor turned away, “I know. I’m dangerous. That’s why you need to go.”

“Well, is she still there?”

A pause.

“…I think she’s gone. I escaped with some sort of emergency exit that Kamski—”

“Then you’re not dangerous. Not to me, not to Jericho—not to you. Cyberlife is gone now, Connor.”

Connor blinked, taking this in. His LED spun from red to yellow.

“But I could have killed you, Markus. The Revolution would have been over. You would have been dead.”

“You didn’t. Because you’re strong, Connor. You were their greatest tool to stop our freedoms but even with that immense level of control over you, you resisted. You resisted so far as to save my life not once, but twice. As well as saving the lives of all of those androids. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Connor reached out where his hand was waiting and brushed his fingers gently. Without meaning to, both of their skin peeled away at the contact, white chassis peeking through. Some sort of spark between them, blue and bright and beautiful—

And Markus took the opportunity, feeling Connor’s fear and doubt, and smothered it with his security, comfort, warmth.

With slow, fluid movements they moved closer together, brushed fingers becoming held hands, becoming a warm, tight embrace.

“You’re free, Connor. You’re safe.”

#dbh #detroit become human #rk1k #dbh rk1k #connor/markus #connor #markus #fanfic #dbh fanfic #feel free to send in any prompts!#this was very fun to write

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archadianskies · 4 years ago

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wingspan

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Monday Day 1: Post-Apocalypse • Sacrifice; Hank Anderson/Rose Chapman TLOU AU

“Alice needs medicine.” It’s said in a whispered hush, paired with nervous glances over at the feverish child labouring in bed. “Her coughs are wet and her chest sounds congested.”

“Adam’s still about a week out from being able to drive back here,” Rose chews her lip, shaking her head.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hank shrugs, “I’ll make the exchange by myself.”

“No!” Her voice is stern, her gaze even moreso but she knows it won’t dissuade him. They both know this has to be done.

“Make the call. Luther can help me load up the truck and I’ll go.”

“Hank-” Kara, sweet Kara with anguish on her face weighing her down, wearier and wearier with a sick child already.

“I’ll get it done, for your little girl,” he pats her hand and there’s conflict mixed with her gratitude. “Luther will keep everyone safe here while I’m gone.”

They’re easing into winter and they all know if he doesn’t go now, there won’t be a chance later when the roads are covered in snow. Doesn’t mean Rose is any more comfortable with the plan, not when the world isn’t what it was and every single day they’re out here they know they’re all on a knife’s edge.

“The cold slows them down,” Hank tries to placate and she raises one brow and he drops that line and goes for another. “I’ll be careful.”

“You better,” Rose says firmly and eases the beanie on his head. “North’s making the drop this time.”

“Doubly, extra triple careful then,” he mutters. North’s tempestuous at the best of times, so Hank knows there won’t be any casual banter or interesting snippets of news exchanged with the goods.

Usually Josh is the one he meets with, sometimes Simon, and on that one occasion which he still is half-convinced never happened- Markus himself turned up. Jericho is one of the largest communities flourishing in the aftermath and has a functioning hospital, and the Chapman farm has, well, fresh vegetables and poultry. It’s a good relationship in this hellscape, one that gives him hope for a future.

“Truck’s all loaded,” Luther thumps the hatch as Hank makes his way over. “If you leave now you’ll make it back before nightfall. I’ll keep an eye on the house, I promise.”

Hank claps his shoulder. “Thanks Luther, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” the man murmurs, his voice more like a deep rumble in that broad chest. “Thank you for doing this for us.”

“Hey, I’d do anything for her,” it’s the goddamn truth and he isn’t too proud to admit it. “I’d do anything for any of you.”

“Be safe,” Luther squeezes his arm. “It’s your turn to read to Alice tonight, remember?”

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

He pulls out of the driveway, sparing Luther one last glance in the rearview mirror before it’s just him and the road and all the thoughts he tries so desperately to keep at bay. It’s been ten years since the outbreak, ten whole years since that cursed day he held Cole as his son bled out in his arms. It’s been nearly five years since Rose Chapman found him, half mad with grief and nearly feral with hunger yet too stubborn to die.

He doesn’t really remember the years between Cole’s death and him wandering onto the outskirts of Rose’s farm. She’d saved him, continues to save him day in and day out because he has a purpose here, he matters here, and there are people here he’d kill to protect.

Once the initial wave was over, once the violence cannibalised itself, people did what people do best- they come together, they rebuild, they reconcile, they strive forward. It doesn’t mean it’s completely safe, it doesn’t mean it’s all smooth sailing, but Hank can see a future now where he couldn’t see one before.

*~*

There’s three kids walking along the tree line; it’s a blink and miss situation, but he definitely didn’t miss it. Three kids, all alone, heading somewhere but nowhere close enough they’ll make it by nightfall. Ah shit. Hank pulls over and the kids are smart enough to dart for cover.

“You kids alright?” He takes out his gun and sweeps his gaze around, trying to spot any infected who might be lurking nearby.

“We’re alright!” One of them calls out.

“Shut up Connor!” One of them hushes the one named Connor.

“It’s only a couple of hours until sundown and there’s no camp you can reach safely on foot in time,” Hank approaches slowly, keeping his voice low. He sees them now, all three of them, skinny boys in ill fitting clothing with backpacks too big for them.

One of them has a bandaid stuck to an old crusted wound right in the middle of his forehead. The other has a bandage wrapped around his forearm, brown with age. And the last one is pointing a gun at him.

“We said we are alright.” The one holding a gun says icily. He can’t be more than ten, yet the look in his eyes says everything; the boy has been through things a ten year old shouldn’t have, but then the same could be said about most children in this hellscape.

“Two of you are hurt. I’m going to Jericho and-”

“Jericho?” The one named Connor perks up. “We’re going to Jericho!”

“Shut up Connor!” The other says exasperatedly, and Hank can see they’re identical twins with the only difference to be found in their expressions.

“I can take you there. Plenty of room in the truck.”

“What will it cost us?” The one with the gun demands, and Hank shakes his head.

“Nothin’. I just don’t want you boys out here all alone, especially once it gets dark and the temperature plummets,” he tries to reason with them, but can’t fault them for their caution.

“We managed to make camp just fine,” one of the twins says stubbornly but Hank can see it, can see that small hopeful expression he’s trying so desperately to mask.

“I’m sure you did, and I’m sure you can tonight. You just shouldn’t have to, that’s all,” he gestures at his truck. “This way’s pretty deserted but Jericho’s much safer and the truck’s much faster than going on foot. What do you say?”

“If you try something funny, Ronan will shoot you,” the stubborn twin threatens, and Hank nods.

“Alright.”

It’s a tight squeeze but three boys under ten are about the size of one grown man so it spares Hank the effort of rearranging the produce on the back. There’s a blanket Kara crocheted on one of the seats, and he tucks it over them and doesn’t miss the way they snuggle closer, huddling for warmth.

“Is Jericho nice? How long have you lived there?” Connor asks after a while.

“Jericho is very nice. It’s big and safe and there’s other kids in there too,” Hank explains, “but I don’t live there. I live on a farm down the other way, and we supply vegetables and chickens to them in exchange for meds and materials and shi- stuff.”

“You’re making an exchange now?” The one named Ronan asks quietly, the gun still held tightly in his hands now resting on his lap.

“Yeah, uh, Alice, a little girl about your age, she’s sick,” Hank spares them a glance. “Her cough’s getting pretty bad so we’re hoping to get some meds to help.”

“Maybe they’ll have something for me there?” Connor says so softly Hank barely hears him.

“Are you sick? What do you think you need? I’m sure they’ll have it there.”

“You’re not sick!” The other twin hisses, and Connor huffs stubbornly.

“That’s the problem Sean, and maybe that’s why I need help!”

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Hank looks over at them and both boys click their jaws shut and refuse to meet his gaze.

“It’s fine,” Ronan says, the ice back in his tone. “We just need to get to Jericho.”

They spend the rest of the drive in silence, and Hank’s glad when the large gates loom up on the horizon. He doesn’t drive up to the main entrance, but takes a side road and stops the truck by a clearing where there’s another car waiting.

“Hey Hank,” the redhead greets with a lazy wave, leaning against the trunk.

“Hey North,” he nods respectfully as he kills the engine and hops out.

“Oh,” she blinks in surprise, “new survivors?”

“Yeah I picked ‘em up on the way,” Hank gestures over at them before busying himself with removing the tarp over the cargo. “They were headed this way so I thought I’d get ‘em here safely.”

“Doc will want to check them over,” North looks at the boys and Connor is the only one who offers a wave. “It’s just protocol of course.”

“They’ll need her help anyway- Sean has that wound on his forehead and Connor has the bandage on his arm,” Hank looks over his shoulder at the boys. “Blood looks old but it can’t hurt to give it a once over and a dressing change.”

“And the other one who looks ready to murder me?”

“That’s Ronan. He’s holding a gun.”

“Clever boy,” North smirks, coming around to the driver’s side and peeking in through the open door. “You boys want to come stay here with us, you have to get checked by the Doc first okay?”

“Okay,” they chorus obediently and Hank finds himself grinning helplessly.

“Got the meds and some honest to god wool yarn for Kara,” North informs him as she loads up a crate onto the back. “Otto farm about six hours away made the exchange and I kept a couple of skeins for her.”

“She’ll love that, thanks North,” he pats the crate happily. “And we all profit it from it, so…”

“It’s more an investment than a gift,” she grins before beckoning to the brothers. “Alright kiddos let’s go. Come in and grab a coffee Hank, while the guys unload the rest and refuel.”

“You’re a saint, thanks.”

*~*

Jericho is a nice place. It’s a really really nice place. It’s full of life and learning and healing. No matter how hard others try to take this place for themselves, no matter how much violence they try and inflict, the sheer resilience of its people keeps the place running. That, and well, having nearly an entire SWAT team complete with a Captain in residence can’t hurt.

Far better, kinder, saner team than the rabid FBI team led by Prickins from a few years back who tried to destroy Jericho and take it for themselves. The whole debacle saw over half of Jericho burned to the ground and dozens slaughtered.

It’s when he and Rose took in Kara and her family, because the sheer trauma was too much for Alice to process and she could never return. Adam stayed on as a nurse and found his calling. It feels like a lifetime ago too.

He takes his coffee over to the little clinic at the side entrance where newcomers are screened because he wants to make sure the boys are alright.

“This is a burn,” Adam frowns as he inspects the wound on Sean’s forehead. “How did you get this?”

The boy doesn’t answer, looking over nervously as doctor Anthea unwraps the bandage from Connor’s arm.

“Oh my god-”

“Fuck!” The expletive leaves his mouth before he can stop himself.

“It’s three weeks old we swear!” Connor cries, nursing his arm to his chest, tears in his eyes. “It’s three weeks old!”

Before Hank can comment any further he’s being slammed to the wall, North placing a gun under his jaw. “You brought a fucking kid with a bite into Jericho and expected to leave him here?!”

“I didn’t-”

“He didn’t know!” Ronan shouts, clenching his trembling hands into fists. “We didn’t tell him in case he left us behind!”

“He should’ve left you behind!” North growls.

“It’s old,” Anthea raises her voice. “The teeth indentations have healed over. This is new scar tissue right here.” She’s gently tracing the mark on Connor’s arm, the boy’s bottom lip trembling as tears spill down his cheeks.

“How the fuck is that possible?” North steps away and lowers her gun, too shocked to be angry now it seems. “Everyone who’s ever been bitten turns after eight hours at the most.”

“He must be immune, then,” Anthea smiles in disbelief as she smooths Connor’s hair away from his face. “You are one of a kind, Connor.”

“We keep him in holding overnight,” North declares, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just to be sure.”

“No, you keep us together!” Sean spits, fuming at the mere suggestion of separation.

“I don’t have time for that, I have to get back to Alice!” Hank argues and North cocks her brow.

“No one’s asking you to stay, Hank, you can go.”

“Bullshit! I’m not letting you lock up these kids outside of Jericho’s walls!”

“You can go, you got us to Jericho, you don’t need to do anything else!” Ronan adds and oh Hank can see it, Hank can see the fear of being left alone in those big grey eyes.

“I’ll go, I know the way,” Adam offers, holding his hand out for the keys. “It’s my home, after all. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“I’ll spend the night in holding, then,” Hank nods as he hands over the keys to the truck. “Tell Alice I’m sorry I’ll miss storytime.”

“You spend the night in holding,” North orders as takes his gun from the table and presses it back into his hand, “and you put him down yourself if he turns.”

“And then us too,” Ronan says in a voice so steady, so resigned for a child. “If you shoot him, you have to shoot us too.”

“It won’t come to that,” Hank says firmly.

“For everyone’s sake, I hope you’re right,” Anthea runs her fingers over the bite on Connor’s arm again before gently thumbing away his tears. “I guess we shall see in the morning, hm?”

The holding area must have been a security control room at some point. It’s now been caged by wire completely, with a chained and padlocked gate. He must be losing what little sanity he has left, but at least he’s not losing his compassion. No way in hell he’s about to abandon three boys to an uncertain fate, no matter how brave they’re trying to be.

“You could’ve gone back to the farm,” Ronan points out as Connor curls up on the lumpy mattress under the covers with his twin.

“Yeah I know,” Hank shrugs, nursing his coffee mug. Simon had left them with provisions to last the night, including a large thermos of coffee because he’s an angel in this apocalyptic hellscape.

“What if we’re lying and Connor turns and kills you?” Sean demands, though it’s not so effective given Connor’s clinging to him tiredly.

“Then I’d die,” Hank offers them the soup thermos. “Alice is still getting her medicine tonight, so that’s perfectly fine.”

“Don’t you have family at the farm?” Ronan accepts the thermos and pours out a cupful, handing it straight to Connor.

“Losing me won’t be that big a loss for them.”

“That’s a lie! Everyone has someone who’d miss them!” Connor shouts, nearly spilling the soup in his outburst. Hank admits defeat there. Rose would miss him, he thinks, because she’s all heart and soul.

She took him in when he was a husk of a man and together with Adam they toiled and tilled the land, took in every broken survivor and sent them on their way to Jericho with a full belly and provisions to spare. And Hank shot anyone who ever dared to raise their hand against Rose because people like that, greedy fuckers who want to take and take, have no place in this new world.

“What happened to you boys out there? What happened three weeks ago?” It’s The Question and no one seems to want to answer it.

“We wanted to go to the stream to see the fish,” Ronan eventually starts quietly. “We snuck out because Amanda didn’t give her permission.”

“It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have insisted,” Connor stares into the soup as if it could offer comfort. “I just really wanted to see them.”

“We didn’t see the infected one until it was too late and it bit Connor,” Ronan reaches over to hold his hand. “We tried to hide it but it was bleeding a lot and Amanda heard us in the bathroom getting the first aid kit.”

There’s a pause and Hank realises Sean hasn’t said a single word, resolutely avoiding everyone’s gaze.

“She dragged Connor out the back and-” Ronan falters, pressing his lips into a tight line as he darts a look at Sean. “She gave Sean a gun and told him to shoot Connor as punishment for sneaking out.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hank swears, recoiling in horror and it makes sense now; the small burn mark on his forehead is from the shell casing hitting him.

“She made you do it, Sean, I don’t hate you!”

“Well you should!” Sean yells. “You should because I pulled the trigger!”

“She made you do it!” His twin insists, squeezing his hand. “She made you and if you didn’t she would’ve killed you!”

“So I killed her,” Ronan says evenly, as if he’s simply stating the sky is indeed blue. “I took the gun from Sean after he missed, and I shot her in the chest and after she fell over I shot her in the head.” Ronan looks at him defiantly. “So we’re fine. We can look after ourselves, you don’t have to care about us.”

Hank slowly sinks to his knees, taking the cup of soup from Connor and setting it aside before gently gathering the boy into his arms and reaching for the other two. He’s a big guy, he has enough wingspan for all three, and he enfolds them in as tight a hug as he can manage and that’s it, that’s what sends the last of their defences tumbling down. They cry loudly, the trauma of it all finally being given a proper outlet and he holds them and he vows to himself that he’s never letting them go. There will be no more Amandas in their life, not now, not ever again.

“Takes us with you,” Connor sobs. “Don’t leave us here.”

“We’re leaving once Adam gets back. All of us,” Hank promises. “I’m never letting you out of my sight.”

He’s used to watching the dawn, used to getting up this early now to feed the chickens and collect the eggs. He’s even used to waking up with a child still fast asleep on him, now that Alice treats him like a grandfather. There’s something different about this moment, though, with all three boys snuggled against him.

There’s something hopeful about this because it’s eight hours later and he’s still whole and alive and unbitten. And that means Connor is indeed immune. With Sean being an identical twin, that means he too could carry the natural immunity. The hope of the entire world, fast asleep in his arms. It’s a beautiful sentiment.

“Good morning Hank,” greets a voice at the gate and there’s Mister Markus Manfred himself; Jericho’s saviour and leader. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is Adam here yet?”

“Not yet,” the man shakes his head. “But Simon made breakfast for you and the boys. They’ll have a room near the creche with the other children, and we can get them settled in afterward.”

“We’ll have breakfast, and then as soon as Adam gets back, we’re heading for the farm,” he meets Markus’ gaze steadily. “They’re not staying.”

“Hank, Dr Anthea told me Connor is immune. That means we could work towards developing a vaccine.”

“You still can,” he shrugs as best he can with three sleeping kids piled on him. “We can make the trip every weekend. But these boys are coming home with me.”

Markus looks at him, scrutinising him, and Hank can see both the leader and the saviour at work, weighing up the pros and cons and trying to find the common ground for the greater good. Hank would never want to be in his shoes, no sir, no thank you.

“Breakfast, then?” Markus smiles one of his charming presidential smiles as he unlocks the gate and gestures towards the entrance. “Simon made pancakes and we cut up some of the strawberries you brought over from the farm.”

“Pancakes?” Connor stirs sleepily, rubbing his eyes and there it is, there’s the bite on his arm, three weeks and one day older.

“Yeah kiddo, pancakes for breakfast before we head home.”

“Home,” Ronan echoes with a soft smile.

“We’ll be good, we’ll help out on the farm and work extra hard,” Sean whispers nervously, and Hank runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair.

“I know you will.”

Connor and Sean Dechart are ten years old- very nearly almost eleven, Connor points out. Ronan Dechart turned nine two weeks ago, a birthday forgotten entirely in the struggle to survive so Hank makes note to bake a cake. Their parents had died in the initial outbreak, and Professor Amanda Stern had taken them in after finding them hiding at the nearby university where she taught. The story unfolds on the drive back to the farm and the more he learns about their time with Amanda the more he’s glad Ronan shot her and shot her again.

Luther greets them on the driveway, Alice bundled up in a thick down jacket and blanket sitting on his arm. She waves enthusiastically, cheeks rosy and smile bright and Hank feels his heart squeeze in his chest at the sight. Rose is standing on the porch and she’s giving him A Look and he wants to say sorry reflexively but he’s not actually sorry for anything.

Alice takes Connor’s hand and drags him inside, the boys trailing, and she announces loudly that she’s giving them the grand tour. Luther claps him on the shoulder before following Alice.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Rose sighs heavily as she pours him a generous mug of freshly brewed coffee. Her tone is reprimanding, but there’s something fond in her eyes as they take a seat at the dining table.

“I couldn’t leave them,” he shakes his head. “Not out there on their own, and not even at Jericho. Not after all the shit they’ve been through.”

“Because you’re a parent, Hank,” she says it so softly, so gently and his breath hitches in his throat. “You’re a father. It’s just what you do. It’s just who you are.”

“They’ve been through hell, and they deserve better. They deserve a second chance.” His vision blurs as he raises his head and looks at you. “You taught me that.”

“I did, and now you’re teaching them that,” Rose is smiling, a big radiant smile and he can’t help but lean over to kiss that beautiful smile. As far as second chances go, he reckons this is about as perfect as it gets.

#Hank Anderson #rose chapman #connor rk800 #rk800 60 #rk900 #Detroit: Become Human #detroit become dad #dbhrarepairsweek #tlou au #annie writes: dbh

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spine-buster · 5 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for all the positive feedback on last week’s double update! I’d love to hear how you’re enjoying it and any canon questions you may have even though it’s very early into the story still!

September 13th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was absolutely fucking bricking it.

These were the things she knew as an absolute certainty: William Nylander – she had learned his full name – was a Toronto Maple Leaf. She had hooked up with him in June one week after her graduation from university. He’d gone back to Sweden for the summer to be with his family. Now he was back in Toronto because he played for the Toronto Maple Leafs. And now, she worked as the executive assistant to the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs.

She had no clue how she got herself into this situation, no clue what she was going to do in this situation, and no clue how she was going to get out of this situation.

She was going to have to see him practically every fucking day.

Aberdeen knew she couldn’t let this get the best of her, her mind, or her emotions. She was brought on board to do a job, and she was going to do that job to the best of her abilities. No bullshit, no problem. William wasn’t going to stand in her way of doing well and doing her job for Mr. Shanahan. Regardless of how blue his eyes were. Regardless of how blonde his hair was. Regardless of how cute he looked. Regardless of how hot he looked in a suit. Regardless of how every time she looked at him, she began to remember how his hands felt on her hips and how his lips felts on her bare skin…

No. Stop it.

By the end of the week, she’d met the entire team – Mr. Shanahan had ushered her into the locker room to introduce her to everyone and she waved shyly at all of them before they gave her polite nods and waves of their own. She wondered if any of them recognized her from when she accidentally walked in on all of them topless and in their underwear. They probably did. Nobody recovered from something like that. Throughout the week, many of them saw her in the hallways and came up to introduce themselves personally. She thought that was nice. Sometimes, she’d see William hanging out in the background, waiting for his teammate, but staring directly at her.

Now came her first trip, one that she found out about on Wednesday – she was going to St. John’s, Newfoundland. She was lucky Kasha was one of her best friends and agreed to watch and feed Minerva because she’d be gone for six days. Leaving on Friday, coming back late Wednesday night, after the exhibition game in Ottawa. It would be interesting, that’s for sure. She’d never been to Newfoundland.

Lou drove her and Mr. Shanahan to Pearson Airport (Kyle Dubas had to stay back to negotiate a contract and sign someone, but he’d be there eventually too), where she was led to a private hangar. Most of the team was already there, and a bunch of people Aberdeen didn’t recognize. She noticed William in the crowd already staring at her as she walked in, a beanie lazily placed on top of his head. He was sitting beside Kasperi, who was trying to show William something on his phone. She tried to look away, but couldn’t.

“That’s media,” Brendan told her, finally breaking her concentration. “They travel with us on road trips.”

“But this is only the start of training camp…” Aberdeen said, not quite understanding why they were already here if the season hadn’t even started yet.

Brendan chuckled from beside her. “You’ve got a lot to learn about the sports media in Toronto…especially for the Leafs,” he commented.

“Sorry,” she apologized for no good reason.

“That’s okay. You’ve got a lot of time to learn.”

When everybody began to board, she began to gather all of the things she’d taken out of her bag while they waited. She almost jumped out of her skin when somebody behind her asked, “Do you need help carrying your bag?”

She spun around and saw William behind her, watching her as she stuffed everything into her bag. “No,” she said, turning back around because she couldn’t look at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“There’s an entire team of big burley hockey players ready to help.”

“No thank you,” she said again, zipping it up and walking away.

On the private jet, she learned about the seating hierarchy. The team got the back of the plane; media and other team personnel at the front. She learned that the seats were giant, only two to a row, and she got her own row – a window seat right behind Mr. Shanahan. She learned about the impeccable catering on board and the menu provided for them. She learned that everybody was more relaxed on the charter flight – even the team, as they let loose and began to play cards, loosening their ties and taking off their suit jackets.

She learned that every time she stood up or looked behind her, William was almost always already looking at her.

***

September 14th, 2019

Practices were not usually watched by the general public, but because NHL hockey came to Newfoundland so rarely, tickets were sold to watch the Toronto Maple Leafs practice. The arena was full, and before the boys stepped out onto the ice, Aberdeen had to coordinate Mr. Shanahan completing some media interviews for local news stations before they were able to retire from that and actually watch the practice. They sat together, looking out onto the rink as Aberdeen had her iPad in her lap to co-ordinate a few more media interviews after the practice was done.

“Sir, can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Brendan,” her corrected her. She still felt uncomfortable about calling him that, so she wasn’t going to. “Shoot.”

“The drill they’re doing right now. What’s it called?”

Brendan looked at her briefly, smiling slightly. “It’s to practice backchecking.”

She nodded her head. “What’s a backcheck?” she asked, feeling stupid. All of these terms were like a foreign language to her. She didn’t know how people spoke using these words in coherent sentences.

“Backchecking is when the other team has the puck, and we need to rush back to the defensive zone to stop their attack,” Brendan explained.

“So…it’s trying to stop the other team from scoring.”

Brendan smiled again, wider this time. “You’re learning.”

“I figured I should learn about the sport I’m going to be surrounded by,” she shrugged her shoulders. “So that must mean the forecheck is attacking…trying to score.”

“Exactly.”

“Who are our best goal scorers?”

Brendan considered her question. He knew he could answer it in many different ways. “Well, if we’re talking about pure numbers, John Tavares – last season he scored forty-seven goals. Anything above fifty is, like, at the super-elite level. But then there’s Auston Matthews – he’s probably the most elite pure goal-scorer in the league, save for Connor McDavid. Thirty-seven goals last season. Mitchy scored twenty-six. And then there’s the other guys – Kasperi, Andreas, and Zach all scored twenty last season. Morgan Rielly, our best defenseman – he even scored twenty last season. He was a monster. Didn’t get nominated for the Norris, stupidly, but a monster nonetheless. And William Nylander – elite goal scorer too. His numbers last year don’t reflect that because he only played a half a season, but he’s as elite as the rest of them.”

At the mention of William’s name, Aberdeen shifted uncomfortably. She tried not to pay attention to anything he said about William because it would just lead her to the memories, and then she’d be done for. “So we’re a good team,” she inferred from what Brendan was telling her.

Brendan chuckled this time. “You could say that.”

When the practice was over, she organized for Mr. Shanahan to do more media. Everybody was eating him up. He gave great soundbites, talked about the hockey scene in Newfoundland, and about the Leafs practice. He, of course, picked up on things during practice Aberdeen didn’t even notice. The reporters ate it up like they couldn’t get enough. And when Mr. Shanahan was finished, they waited somewhat impatiently for the players.

Hockey clearly meant a lot to everyone around her. It was what drove them, what sustained them, and what they were passionate about beyond everything else. She had to make sure she kept up with their intensity, or else she felt like everything that the success of her in her job depended on may crumble.

***

When the day was done, the team, management, and media retreated back to the hotel. It was around 6pm, and there were a lot of people in the lobby, figuring out their next steps. As Aberdeen walked through the doors with Mr. Shanahan, she saw everybody congregating in their groups. Some of the players had already changed out of their workout gear and into casual clothes, obviously ready to go out for a bite to eat. She hoped that the hotel had room service, because she knew exactly what she’d be doing for the rest of the night.

“Aberdeen, do you have plans tonight?” Brendan asked suddenly, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“No sir. Just room service for dinner and—”

“Oh, Aberdeen!” he cut her off, his tone almost scolding. “You’re twenty-one years old and you’re in St. John’s. You can’t stay in and order room service.”

Easy for him to say. “Well—”

“Do you want to come to dinner with me and some of the hockey ops guys?” he asked politely. She knew he was just doing this to be exactly that – polite. There was no way he would want to hang out with his executive assistant outside of work hours.

“I’m fine. It’s okay—”

“Hey Brendan,” they suddenly heard a voice. They turned their heads to see Jason Spezza approaching them. He was dressed much better than most of the other guys, and Aberdeen attributed that to the fact that he was older. “We were wondering if we could take Aberdeen out to dinner to show her around St. John’s.”

She looked behind Jason to see Kasperi, John, Morgan, and William. Her eyes bulged out of her head. “Oh, thank you for the offer, but it’s okay—”

“What a great idea!” Brendan exclaimed at the same time, turning at her and smiling. “You got out of dinner with us old bozos!”

“No no no—”

“Have fun!” Brendan said as he began walking away, joining another group of men and slapping one of them on the back.

Aberdeen looked up at Jason. Her cheeks flushed red with anxiety at the prospect of spending hours with them. “You need to calm down,” Jason told her. “We’re just guys.”

“You’re the Toronto Maple Leafs,” she stressed, trying not to meet William’s eye.

“So?” he shrugged his shoulders. “We’re just trying to be nice, Aberdeen. I don’t want to see you all alone when everyone else on the team is going to be out having fun.”

“Why not?”

Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Because you’re part of the team now.”

Aberdeen considered the words coming out of Jason’s mouth. It hadn’t even been a week since her first day, since she walked in on everyone in their underwear, and already she was “part of the team” and invited to go out to dinners with them. She didn’t understand. Why were they being so nice? She was a nobody – to them, to the organization, to the world. She was only a personal assistant. “But—”

“Aberdeen, the more the argue this, the more you’re going to have to hear my voice telling you to come,” Jason said. “Are you really going to make me beg?”

His damn puppy dog eyes were the only, and she means the only reason she gave in.

***

Auston Matthews and Frederik Andersen joined the group before they left to walk along Water Street, eventually choosing a fresh seafood restaurant to have dinner in (because why go to St. John’s and not get fresh caught seafood?). Aberdeen walked alongside Jason making small talk with him, with Auston, Fred, Morgan, and John ahead of them and William and Kasperi behind them. Once they were seated at the restaurant, she found herself sandwiched between Jason and Morgan. William was right across from her.

“So where are you from, Aberdeen?” John asked as everyone finished giving their order to the waiter.

“I was born and raised in Toronto. Etobicoke, actually,” she said. “Royal York and Bloor. But south of Bloor – not the Kingsway. Nobody can afford to live in the Kingsway. Well – you guys can,” she rambled, finally stopping to take a sip of her water.

“Any siblings?” Morgan asked.

“My older sister Siena is 23. She’s at the University of Ottawa for law school. Then there’s the baby Camden. He just turned eleven this summer.”

“That’s quite the spread,” Kasperi commented. She could see William side-eye him, not appreciating the comment. It was a fair comment, but Aberdeen hated when people made it. Yes, there was a huge gap between them. So what? Lots of families had huge gaps between siblings. Hers was not unique.

“He was definitely an oops baby, if that’s what you mean,” she deadpanned, looking right at him.

“Oh no no no – I didn’t mean it like that at all—” he tried to cover himself.

“Dude, there’s ten years between Daniella and I,” William quipped.

“Yeah but there’s three other kids in between you guys—”

“Will you two just be quiet? God you’re like Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Morgan said. “Ignore them, Aberdeen. What do your parents do?”

“My mom is an elementary school teacher and my dad is a mailman with Canada Post.”

“And who’s your favourite Toronto Maple Leaf?” William asked, taking his own sip from his drink. The way he was looking at her would make any girl’s head spin, and it made Aberdeen’s spin for a split second before she remembered that she was at a table full of men who happened to be his teammates and who would most definitely notice any suspicious behaviour on her part.

“Not any of you,” she said in a playful tone, causing the whole table to ooh and aww and clutch their hearts.

“Really? Even when we’re buying you dinner?” William continued.

“You’re going to need to do more than that,” she smiled.

“You mean buy you a drink? You like vodka-based stuff?”

Aberdeen’s face dropped. Vodka was the main alcohol in all the cucumber mules she drank when she met him at King Taps. Drinking all those cucumber mules was the reason she let all her inhibitions go and brought him back to her place to sleep with him. Well that, and his personality. And his eyes. And his hair. And his body. And his – snap out of it! “I’m more of a gin girl myself,” she said, bringing her class of water to her lips again.

“Could have fooled me,” he quipped.

Morgan brought the conversation back to hockey – why they were all there. The boys let her in on a few traditions and the etiquette around the arena, especially on game days. When she asked about all the media on the trip and why they were they everybody let out a collective groan and explained to her how hounding the media was in Toronto. When the food came the talk died down a bit but John began explaining to her the rivalries, the divisions, the conferences, who the Leafs liked and didn’t like, teams to watch out for as well as teams with friends on them. Their good friend Tyler Ennis, who just played on the Leafs last year was now in Ottawa, and they’d be seeing him at the season opener. Aberdeen wished she had a notebook where she could write this all down. Jason explained how excited he was for the season opener – how he got some tickets for his extended family and friends to see him play. Auston explained how his parents would be flying in from Arizona. It was all very nice to hear.

Jason ended up paying for her meal even though she fought him on it. When they decided to leave, the owner of the restaurant came out to shake hands with all of them and asked for a picture. They obliged, and the owner was over the moon. He said he was going to blow up the picture, frame it, and put it right at the entrance. That’s when Aberdeen understood how hockey crazed some people could be.

Instead of going directly back to the hotel, Morgan persuaded everyone to take a walk down by the harbour. He used the map on his phone to guide them, and Aberdeen would unintentionally hold the group up by taking pictures of all the old and colourful buildings. She couldn’t help it – if traveling was going to be a perk of the job, then she was going to enjoy it as much as possible.

The harbour was beautiful, even though it was dark, and she made a mental note to come back if she had any free time when it was light out. She also wanted to climb Signal Hill. She took out her phone and clutched it in her hands shyly, looking at the guys talking amongst one another. “Um…can someone take a picture of me?”

Jason, of course, was the only one who heard her. “Give me your phone,” he extended his hand, and she gave it to him as she went to pose along the guardrail. He took a few photos, and even turned on the flash. All the guys watched on, and Aberdeen felt a bit awkward. Apparently, Jason sensed it. “Can we make it look like she has friends?” he announced to the guys, causing them all to laugh. “Jesus fuck, guys. Go pose with her.”

They all surrounded her, throwing their arms over each other. Auston draped his arm over her shoulder. Fred’s extended all the way to her shoulders too, despite being a two people away from her.

William’s was the only arm around her waist.

***

September 17th, 2019

“You could have said I was your favourite the other night,” a voice Aberdeen could only place as William’s said as she was looking down at her iPad. Everybody was in Mile One Stadium for the game, and the arena was already full with eager fans.

She didn’t even know how he found her. Wasn’t he supposed to be getting ready? How did he have the time to bother her and be a menace? “But you’re not my favourite.”

“Ouch, Aberdeen,” he put his hand over his heart like the rest of the guys had done that night at dinner.

“Well you’re not,” she reiterated.

“Then let me rephrase the question,” he started, “You could have said I was fucking awesome.”

Aberdeen’s face dropped again. Yet again, those were the words she had used after they’d finished having sex. She blurted them out, but he agreed. God, to think that it stroked his ego for months and he still remembered months after the fact. “What are you trying to do here?” she asked him.

“When we met in June you kept talking and talking and I let you because I love the sound of your voice,” he said. Her heart stopped beating momentarily. She was hyperaware of the present tense use of ‘love’ and not ‘loved’ in his sentence. “I’m just trying to talk to you.”

She shook any thought about that night or about “I love hearing you talk” out of her head as she got up. This was all a game to William – that much she figured. Why else would he find her? Why else would he repeat her words back at her and taunt her with them? Why else would he offer to buy her a drink in front of six of his teammates? She didn’t know if he was telling the truth, if he was just taunting her, or…God, what if he wanted to hook up again? Was he really that kind of guy that he was doing all this again to somehow seduce her? A fun little romp with the office girl so he could show off to all his buddies? Regardless of what it was, Aberdeen knew this was dangerous, extremely dangerous. It was a game she wasn’t willing to play when so much was on the line for her personally and professionally.

“Well, don’t,” she huffed, staring at him. “This isn’t a game and I’m not a pawn. I’m here to work and do a good job. I’m most definitely not here to keep you entertained,” she said, walking away from him.

***

September 18th, 2019

The Toronto Maple Leafs lost both exhibition games to Ottawa, but it didn’t really matter because they were just that – exhibition games. Mr. Shanahan was still peeved that they lost, but he took it in stride. When their charter plane finally landed in Toronto at around 11:45 at night on Wednesday, Aberdeen was ready for bed. All she wanted to do was cuddle Minerva and sleep for twelve hours. She was especially excited to have the day off tomorrow. She could at least do laundry.

When they were free to get her luggage, the tag-team of Tyson Barrie and Jason Spezza made sure they got her bag for her. Mr. Shanahan had already left – he was the first one off the flight – because his son was picking him up, and he didn’t want him waiting and getting a ticket.

“Aberdeen, do you have a ride? Is somebody picking you up?” John asked, extending the handle on his luggage. From behind him, she noticed William lurking and waiting for her answer.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just hopping on the UP,” she waved him off. She would have to ask an airport employee where to get the UP Express.

“What? No way,” John shook his head.

“No no no,” said William from behind him, shaking his head.

“No no no,” said Travis who was standing by her, shaking his head.

“No no no,” said Tyson who was also standing by her, shaking his head.

“No,” John repeated. You would think she said she was going to walk the entire way home instead of take public transit. “You live downtown, right? That’s what you said at dinner?” he asked, but didn’t even wait for her to respond. “Who’s going downtown and can drop off Aberdeen?” John asked loudly so everyone could hear.

“It’s fine, it’s really fine—” she tried to intervene.

“Bee’s coming to pick me up – we can drop Aberdeen off no problem,” Morgan offered.

“I’ve got Saylor picking me up,” Kasperi offered.

“Morgan will do it,” John said quickly.

Aberdeen looked over at Morgan. “You really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” he extended the handle on his luggage. “Follow me.”

He led her out of the private hangar towards a black Honda Civic. Aberdeen watched as a girl got out of the car. She was unconventionally pretty, with beautiful long hair. She wore comfy looking oversized cardigan and plain black tights. She only assumed this was Morgan’s girlfriend. When they got close, Morgan kissed her. “I volunteered to drive Aberdeen home,” he said, nodding back towards her.

Bee looked at her. “Great! Hop in. Just put your luggage in the backseat – I don’t mind,” she said, turning and getting into the passenger’s seat. Morgan opened the trunk to put his bigger suitcase in before returning to the driver’s seat. Aberdeen had a grip on her luggage.

“So what position do you have with the Leafs, Aberdeen?” Bee asked from the passenger’s seat, even shifting so she was actually able to look at her.

“I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.”

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Bee smiled. “Brendan’s awesome. But I’m sure you’re realizing that. God, I bet a million people would kill for your job.”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. “I guess. I didn’t really uh, you know, watch hockey before this.”

“I didn’t either, until I met Morgan,” Bee said. “Don’t worry. It has its way of sucking you in. There’s a certain magic to the game that you can’t get away from. You just have to make sure you keep your head above water.”

“Right.”

“Where do you live, Aberdeen?” Morgan asked, looking at her through the rear-view mirror.

“Oh! I’m on Nelson Street. It’s near University and Adelaide.”

Bee punched the address Aberdeen gave into her phone. “You let us know whenever you need a ride back into the city from the airport, okay? You’re not that far from us.”

“Um, thank you,” she said as she felt Morgan put the car into drive.

“No problem at all, Aberdeen. Love your name by the way.”

They made small talk throughout the ride, and thankfully, because it was so late, the roads were clear. In just less than twenty minutes, Aberdeen was home. She thanked Morgan and Bee profusely before leaving. Bee watched her go in as Morgan texted on his phone.

“Who are you texting at this hour of the night?” she asked.

“Willy,” he said absent-mindedly. “Wants to make sure we got home okay.”

Bee furrowed her brows. “He’s never texted us about that before.”

Morgan shrugged. “Whatever.”

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #william nylander fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #the president wears prada series

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linkysmommy · 5 years ago

Text

The Time That Came Between

PART I

Part II link here

Fandom: It Lives in the Woods

Pairing: Noah Marshall x fem MC

Words: 3,057

Summary: What happened to Noah after Jazmyn Park sacrificed herself and he fled Westchester?

Warnings: Some minor swearing, topics of drug use and addiction

Author’s note: This is basically my imagination of what happened to Noah after he left Westchester and before he realized that MC was still somewhat cognizant as the shadow monster. I definitely have some creative liberties and my own thoughts on the dark path Noah went on after everything went down. It shouldn’t be too long, but I’m splitting it into parts. It’ll probably be between 5-6 parts when all is finished.

The first thing he noticed was the overwhelming stench of sour, rotting garbage.

Then came the God-awful pain.

It felt like there was a bonfire burning in Noah’s back. The muscles in his body screamed and throbbed, and his body shook violently. He weakly opened his eyes, and could barely see because they were so watery. It was like this every morning when he woke up. But somehow, that didn’t make it any better.

He managed to push himself into a sitting position as he tried to put together where the hell he was. He rubbed the film away from his eyes and glanced around himself. He was sitting in an apartment parking lot, his back pushed up against a huge dumpster bin. A trail of gooey water dripped from the trash can and trickled down the cement pavement. The morning sun shone in colorful rays through the filth, and he could hear the morning hum of cars and commuters as the responsible population began their days. A street cat hissed and rustled through the trash, and one of the windows in the building across from him burst open as yells from the people inside drifted out into the morning.

Noah sighed and leaned his head against the metal trash bin. He didn’t even care that his shirt was soaked with trash water, or that the side of his face was still covered with gravel from the ground. All he could focus on was the pain and discomfort. His burning back, his aching muscles, his runny nose, the wave of nausea that crashed over him.

He should get up, go to his apartment, take a shower, get dressed. He should get to work on time and save some money so he’d be able to go far away and leave forever. But no. Instead, he woke up in front of a dumpster and the first thing he did was reach for his phone. He hated everything about himself as he turned on the screen and dialed the person he simultaneously hated most and needed most in this entire world.

But he was too weak. So he called Reynold anyway.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Terror seized through him and his hand began to shake uncontrollably. What if Reynold didn’t pick up? What if—

Before Noah could think much, a very unhappy voice on the other line answered.

“The hell you want? It’s 7:00 in the morning.”

“I need some,” Noah said. “Where can I meet you?”

The voice on the other end scoffed. “Are you serious? You already blew through what I sold you two days ago?”

“It’s been… a rough couple of days.”

Reynold fell silent, which pissed Noah off. He was the one funding this guy, yet Reynold acted like he was the nuisance. Finally, Reynold let out a long sigh. “I’m busy today Malcolm. I don’t have time to—”

“I’ll pay you double. Hell, I’ll pay you triple. Just tell me where to meet you and when.”

Reynold grumbled something under his breath, but then he agreed. Soon, Noah had the place and information typed into his old, cracked phone. Now all he had to do was survive six more hours until they met up. Even that long seemed like more torture than he could stand.

Noah didn’t know how long he sat there, feeling like complete and utter shit. It could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours. All he knew was that when two middle school girls crossed in front of him to head to their bus stop, chattering excitedly about some TV show, the expression on their faces when they saw him was enough to make him want to kill himself.

There was fear in their faces. Fear that the dirty, grimy man sitting by the dumpster would hurt them. Noah lowered his gaze and they hurried past. And he wished, for what must have been the thousandth time in the past twenty-four hours, that his life had never been so goddamn awful that he felt the only way he could survive was through losing himself to heroin.

He wished that it had been him who took Redfield’s place, and not Jaz.

Never Jaz.

***

The bell jingled as Noah stepped into the gas station where he worked. A handful of customers browsed the shelves, and crouched in one of the aisles was his supervisor, Russ, probably doing inventory.

The door clattered shut behind Noah and he tried to sneak past Russ. But, like some freaking bloodhound, he looked up the moment Noah took a step. Russ’s eyes narrowed and his face flushed with anger. He stood, the item scanner hanging loosely from one hand.

“You’re late again, Johnson.” Russ glanced pointedly at the clock, then back at Noah. “Twenty-two minutes late, to be exact.”

“I’m aware of that,.” Noah said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I ran into some… stuff.”

Russ did roll his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. Not when it happens every day.”

“Yeah, well. I’m here now so let me get to work.” Noah shouldered past Russ to the employees only area. It wasn’t much, but there was a wall with hooks where he could hang his jacket, and shelves and shelves full of supplies.

Noah hung his jacket and took a deep, calming breath. He hated this job. He hated how Russ thought he was worse than dirt, and he hated how much he resented that. After what he’d done, he didn’t deserve to be treated well by anyone. He deserved every ounce of hatred every single person had to spare.

He brushed his fingers over the scarred skin on the inside of his elbow. It was rough, and still tingled with his most recent dose. He was a coward for trying to find something to ease the pain, to make him forget. It was only fair that the drug no longer made him feel anything other than normal. Where it once had left him feeling powerful and nearly happy, now all it did was make him need it when he wasn’t using, and when he was using he just felt normal.

And normal… wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

The one good thing about Jaz sacrificing herself for him was that at least she didn’t have to live to see him like this. This pathetic shell of a man she thought was worth enough that she decided to die for him.

Noah squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hand into his forehead. Forget about this. Don’t think. Just get out and do your job, go home, shoot up, go to sleep, repeat. Keep going. Just survive.

He took one last calming breath, took a moment to steel himself… and then stepped back into the front.

As he approached the counter to take his position for the day., the girl standing behind it glared at him.

“Finally. You made me stay late, you jerk. I’ve been here since 12 AM!”

“Yeah… sorry Diane,” Noah said sheepishly, fumbling awkwardly with the edge of his beanie. “I’m here now though, so you can leave.”

Diane peered up at him from behind the counter and her scowl melted away into a grin. “I’m just teasing, Malcolm! No need to be so serious. Of course I’m not mad at you.”

“Oh! Right. Of course.” Noah forced a laugh and sidled behind the counter.

Ever since the cops found Jaz’s broken body last September and Noah had become the prime suspect, he’d been on the run, never staying anywhere for too long. He spent time in Montana, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada. He never finished high school, and instead took to getting himself fake IDs and socials just to find work wherever he could get it. But now, he was back in Oregon, a mere three hours away from where it all started: Westchester.

Noah had only been working at this convenience store for two months, but no one in any of his other jobs paid attention to him like Diane did. She knew nothing real about him—she thought his name was Malcolm Johnson and that he moved from Missouri to live with his aunt—but she always invited him out, always found ways to tease him, always tried to make him smile.

And she was cute and pretty and sweet, but she was no Jaz. No one could ever even begin to compare to Jazmyn Park.

“Well now that somebody’s here, I’m gonna go get changed and get the hell out of here,” Diane said with a smirk, nudging Noah as she sashayed out from behind the counter.

“I said I was sorry,” Noah called after her. She just waved and disappeared into the employee area.

Noah let out a sigh and leaned his elbows against the countertop. The store wasn’t very busy right now, so he’d just get to stand there for hours, doing nothing. Doing nothing was hard because when you were doing nothing, there wasn’t anything to distract you from the terrible things you didn’t want to think about. He much preferred busy days to slow days.

The door jingled and Noah heard footsteps as people entered the store. He couldn’t see the door from where he stood. He hoped it was a munchy druggy or a parent with kids. Those people always bought the most stuff, which meant more time to be occupied.

“…Been a whole year now,” a familiar voice drifted over to where Noah stood. “And nobody knows where he is.”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced furtively around the store. The newcomers to the store stepped out from behind a row of shelves and then, standing across the room with his back to Noah was a man with a flannel shirt and shoulder-length blond hair. A man Noah recognized all to well. Connor Green.

“Shit,” Noah muttered. His heart pounded in his chest and his mouth felt dry. “Shit shit shit sh—”

Connor started turning, so Noah did the only thing he could think of. He dropped to his hands and knees behind the desk, disappearing from view. Diane exited out of the employees-only area just as he did, and he saw confusion flit across her face.

“I miss Jaz,” Connor said. “She was really… somethin’ else. I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

A very unjustified but burning hatred for that man flared up inside Noah. He remembered being at the hardware store, shopping for supplies to go up against Mr. Red—Jane. He remembered how Connor flirted with Jaz and how she flirted right back. And he remembered the day Andy asked them if they wanted to go to homecoming. Noah had said, “Seems kinda pointless to go without a date. And I’m… not really in a good place for that. Dating, I mean.” Then he asked Jaz who she wanted to go with and she turned around and went straight to Connor.

He knew he had no right to be angry about it. He’d told Jaz that he wasn’t in a place for dating, and he probably would’ve said no if she’d asked him. But when she decided to ask Connor and Noah responded with “Good luck,” he really had just wanted to clock Connor in the face.

“Do you think they’ll ever catch Noah?” another voice—a woman this time—asked. Noah’s heart nearly froze at the mention of his own name and he frantically tried to place the voice. Then he realized—it was Stacy Green, of course.

Another pair of hands and knees fell onto the ground beside Noah and he started, jumping back and nearly slamming against the back wall.

Diane watched him with an amused expression. Her short black pixie cut was messily styled and her dark makeup made her features stand out against pale skin. “What’re we doing down here, Johnson?” she asked.

“Uh…” His mind raced frantically, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. Some sort of truth and lie mixture that could get him out of this mess. “I know those people from high school. And, uh, they were snobby assholes who hated me. So, I just don’t want them to know I work here, okay?”

The amusement faded from Diane’s eyes and she nodded solemnly. “I understand. I know I already clocked out, but… I can cover for you until they leave.”

“Really?” Noah couldn’t hide the relieved smile that stole onto his face.

“Oh yeah,” Diane said. “But you owe me.”

“Okay yeah, that’s fair. What do you want? I can cover your hours or—“

“A date,” Diane said with a smug smile, and before he could protest she bounced to her feet and pasted a winning smile onto her face.

“Hiiii,” she greeted. Noah wondered if she was talking to Connor and Stacy. All he could see was the gross tile, front counter, and Diane’s legs. “Can I help you with something?”

“Hey,” Connor’s voice said. “Cute shirt, by the way.”

Noah wanted to barf. Flirting with random strangers was so Connor.

“We just wanted to buy a few things and ask a few questions, if that’s all right?” Stacy said. Noah could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Okay, shoot!” Diane said.

Noah heard the sound of items being dropped on the counter, and then the register creaking like it did whenever anyone leaned on it. He could imagine Connor leaning against it now, looking at Diane with the stupid flirtatious smirk he always used on Jaz.

“We were wondering—” it was Connor again “—have you heard of anyone… suspicious running through these parts?”

Diane let out a sharp laugh. “Is that all you’ve got to go off of? I’m sorry, sweetie, but if I told you all the suspicious people I’ve seen around here I’d be listing names ‘til midnight.”

Noah snorted silently. Leave it to Diane to handle a situation like this so perfectly.

He heard Stacy sign in aggravation. “Connor, maybe I should handle this.” There were shuffling footsteps, rustling of the contents of a purse, and something being slapped onto the countertop. “Have you seen anyone who looks like this man? About this tall, almost always wears a beanie? His name is Noah but he probably goes by something else?”

All traces of a smile evaporated from Noah’s face. His heart started to race with panic. He chanced a look up at Diane’s face, and her eyes were narrowed, her mouth tugged into a frown.

Silence. No sound besides a ticking clock and Russ shuffling around the aisles. Diane stared at the counter, at what Noah was sure was a picture of him. He held his breath, waiting for her to jump aside and say, “Oh you’re looking for this guy? Here he is, take him!”

But instead, she shook her head. Her voice was tight. “Nope, never heard of a ‘Noah.’ Also never seen this guy. Sorry.”

Relief flooded through Noah, almost as satisfying a feeling as a heroin high. Diane wasn’t giving him up. At least not yet.

Connor sighed loudly. “Do you have any idea who might know something? This is important. We got a tip that he moved to this area recently but so far, we’ve found nothing.”

“I don’t know,” Diane said. “Why’re you looking for him? Maybe if I knew I could point you to the right people.”

Noah frantically grabbed her foot, trying to somehow signal to her to not ask these questions. But she shook him off and kept staring straight forward.

“It’s kind of… a personal thing,” Stacy said.

“Well I can’t help if you don’t tell me anything,” Diane countered.

“Look,” Connor interceded. “The police are after him for something he actually didn’t do. We think we might be able to help him, but he’s dodging us.”

Diane glanced down at Noah for a fraction of a second. Then she shrugged. “A person on the run? I’d look for them in Lensgate Park. Or maybe check out the baseball field on eleventh. Tons of shady people hang out there. They might know something.”

“Lensgate Park…” Stacy repeated slowly, probably entering it into her phone. “Okay. And you said eleventh?”

“Yup,” Diane said dryly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope,” Connor said. “You’ve been great. I hope you have a great shift.”

Finally, finally, the footsteps sounded once again, the bell rang as it was opened, and then the door slammed shut. Noah barely had time to reorient himself before Diane reached down and pulled him roughly to his feet.

“Malcolm, what the hell was that about? Who were those people? They weren’t high school bullies, this was something else entirely. And Noah? The cops? What. The. HELL.”

“Diane, Diane,” Noah said, grabbing her by the arms. “Look, those people are from where I grew up, and they… they can’t be trusted.” His mind scrambled to come up with some sort of excuse, but all he could see was Jaz, over and over again. Her terror when she realized he tricked them, her body, broken in his arms… “Um, they, want to frame me—”

Diane scoffed and glared into his honey brown eyes. “Do you expect me to believe that? Are you just one big lie?”

Noah fell back a step, the color draining from his face. “I—”

“Save it, Malcolm. If that’s even your real name.” Diane skirted around the counter and headed for the door. “I backed you up because I liked you, but whatever you’re involved in, I don’t want any part in it. You can forget about the date.”

Noah’s eyebrows knit together as he watched her head out the front door, never looking back. Russ came out from one of the aisles, glancing between Noah and Diane.

“What happened with you two?” Russ asked.

Noah skirted around the counter, removing the name badge he wore on his shirt. “Sorry, Russ, but consider this my resignation.”

He dropped the badge on the counter and shouldered past a shocked Russ.

“Wh—what?” Russ sputtered, chasing after Noah. “Johnson, if you leave it’s just me and Tom. I need the coverage, at least wait until tomorrow—”

“Stuff came up,” Noah said, pushing the glass door open with his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Russ.”

Russ watched helplessly from the sidewalk as Noah slid into his old beat-up car. He turned the radio on high as he backed out of the parking lot.

He was going to Lensgate Park, or maybe the baseball field on Eleventh.

He was going to figure out what Stacy and Connor knew.

***

Post-note: I wrote this a while ago and wasn’t going to finish but that fic by @isometimesplaychoices inspired me to continue and finish this fic, ily friend!!

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brokenjardaantech · 4 years ago

Text

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Prologue: A mistake or accidental prophet?)

my entry for the 2020 @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series

pairings: hankcon, minor male ryder/reyes vidal

major warning: canon-typical violence

additional warnings will be provided before individual chapters.

summary:

In 2028, rumours emerged that Sara Ryder, inventor of androids and co-founder of Cyberlife, disagreed with her father Alec Ryder, another co-founder of the company, over the direction the company was heading. Speculations were rendered pointless as the younger Ryder disappeared off the grid after thousands were killed in an explosion outside Detroit, the site which later became a dumping ground for abandoned or damaged androids. A few days after Alec took over CyberLife, reports of androids breaking away from their programming started to emerge, and for a decade, it was CyberLife's best-kept secret.

In 2038, Connor, an RK-series prototype, began development under Ryder's supervision and was released in August in the same year as Cyberlife's last resort towards the deviancy crisis. Rumours among CyberLife employees put someone else as the lead of the RK800/900 project, and although the company goes through extensive measures to dispel the rumour, it somehow manages to reach the Detroit Police Department. It is with this rumour in mind that Lieutenant Hank Anderson is partnered with the same android in question.

Little do they know that the revolution brewing on the horizon is just the beginning.

also on ao3

---

Before

A gloomy figure left shadows in their wake as they swept through the brightly-lit corridor of a hospital, the click of combat boots against smooth floor clearly audible as the voices in the hall died down. Most only noted the person’s threatening posture and boiling expression and bolted out of their way fearing consequences; little did they know that had they paused to take a better look, they would have noticed how young they were - too young to be wearing such hatred on their face.

They stopped abruptly in front of a door with a sharp snap of their feet, and their hand shot out of their pocket towards the knob but froze with the sharp yell of a nurse. A roll of their eyes. Turned to face the nurse.

‘Visitors are limited to family members only,’ the nurse explained as she closed the last bit of distance between them. Then it clicked. ‘You didn’t register at the front desk?’

‘My brother has been asking for me for days. Ask the front desk. I gave them my name.’

A slight flinch from the harsh tone. ‘I’m sorry, but I still need to confirm your identity. It’s for the patient’s protection.’

The figure huffed. From the smirk on their face, it might have been a silent laugh. They reached into their coat with their teeth grinding. ‘Your ID?’

The nurse looked taken aback. ‘I believe you should be the one presenting identification.’

‘Like you said, “it’s for the patient’s protection”,’ they parroted. ‘How can I be certain that you are an actual nurse but not another spy sent by someone who will bring him harm?’

A pause. The nurse looked away for a second as if to think of the best course of action, but this split second is enough for the person to twist the knob and slide into the ward, the slam of something against the wall indicated that they somehow managed to also barricade it from the inside. The nurse banged her fist on the door in a futile effort of protest before dashing away to get backup.

Inside the room was another atmosphere in its entirety, however, and would have been peaceful if not for the muffled hustle and bustle from the hallway. The blinds were pulled down, the lights were dimmed, the monitor was muted; everything to guarantee that the boy lying on the bed slept undisturbed. He was wearing a green beanie even in his sleep, and next to his head was a small stuffed toy which was rubbed against and clutched when he opened his eyes.

‘Sister?’ he asked the person who had broken into his room.

The sister sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her brother’s cheek. All the anger on her face was gone. ‘I’m here, brother,’ she said. Her thumb swiped against the bottom of his eye and came back wet. ‘I bought us a few minutes to talk.’

Her brother’s face scrunched up. ‘I’m sorry,’ tears started flowing freely down his face and into the pillow and the stuffed toy. ‘I didn’t mean to -’

‘The fault does not lie on you,’ she took out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. ‘It was a reckless move, but I doubt you have another choice.’

‘I -’ a hitch in his breath. ‘I don’t want to go.’

‘I know. I am here to take you away.’

‘You can’t. Baba is -’

‘If you think I care about what he thinks, you are sorely mistaken,’ she stood. ‘Is there anything you want to bring with you from the apartment?’

The brother hesitated. ‘Can I show you later?’

His sister’s face turned blank. ‘Of course,’ she said in a lacklustre tone. It was obvious that she did not want to do so. ‘I need to take care of something. Will be right back.’

‘Okay.’

She turned around and closed her eyes. A deep breath. Glowing wisps of blue emerges from her spine, then from her head, then finally from all over her body, and her eyes were swathed in the same blue glow when she reopened them. She raised her hand.

A blue sphere appeared in front of the desk barricading the door and knocked it away.

The same nurse from before entered. ‘You could’ve told me that you’re here to discharge your brother!’ she said accusingly. ‘There was no need for that hostility. And you shouldn’t even be -’

She was interrupted by the sister shoving a stack of paper towards her chest.

‘Then shut the fuck up and do your damned job.’

oOoOo

Now

Androids have always unnerved Captain Louis ‘Lou’ Allen, but for a very different reason people normally expect. For years after their mass production, he could feel an unexplained buzzing in his nerves, one that, throughout his limited childhood, he had learnt to associate with ‘shit randomly exploding around him’. Now that Anna’s… gone to space, there was no one else in the world to vouch for him, telling him that yes, his feelings are valid, and that he isn’t imagining the hum coursing through his body whenever an android comes close.

Not anymore, though. Ever since he became half-bot and perhaps half-immortal, not once has the buzz returned, which was more of an inconvenience than anything; before, he could predict whether shit was about to go downhill and be responsible and warn people, but now, there was never enough time to vacate a room before, say, the screen of a monitor cracks on its own and shatters into thousands of pieces.

The negotiator CyberLife sends almost brings back the unpleasant buzz. This android - RK800, if its - his? - jacket is to be believed - is too harmless-looking for a model designed to hunt and kill other androids who break away from their programming and the most advanced prototype CyberLife has to offer. His voice is pleasant enough, but that only makes Lou’s spine tingle and threaten to charge the air with static; a sign he has learnt to watch for before an outburst. He hides a deep inhale, listens to the android’s - Connor’s - question, and faces him when he realises that Connor won’t go away anytime soon unless he actively does something.

‘Listen, saving that girl is all that matters,’ he tells the android. The twitch of his face only slips the situation into a whole new level of uncanny valley. Since when did CyberLife allow so much life on their androids? ‘So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I’ll take care of it.’

And it’s so typical CyberLife, isn’t it? Lou thinks as he grabs his rifle and kneels behind a toppled, bullet-ridden table his team has been using for cover. There’s a girl’s life at stake, and there they are, thinking that this is a prime time to test their newest prototype as if actual human lives are merely tools they can use whenever, whatever, however. Just like my own, he thinks bitterly as the place where human flesh meets pure cybernetics aches from hunching over the desk for too long. Scrap that, cybernetics were weaved into his very muscles and nerves and changed him fundamentally, and CyberLife didn’t let him know until years after the operation. It wasn’t even someone within the company -

So anyways. Fuck CyberLife. Fuck their monopoly on the android market. Fuck them for playing god.

But orders are orders and Allen received explicit ones telling him to not interfere unless the android looks like he’s gonna fuck up, so he doesn’t have much choice but to piece everything together through comm chatter and the images from the drones flying over the patio. Whoever is in charge of creating this android, he sure as fuck hopes that they made him knowing what he’s doing.

o0o0o

A few hours later in the relative safety of his office, Lou reads over the report compiled by his people. One of the men shot down by the deviant is, thankfully, alive and recovering, but the other had drowned in the swimming pool long before they were able to do anything. He told the others to go home first, giving them enough time to digest what the fuck just happened in the penthouse, but stayed in the precinct himself just to - just to go home with everything settled. Leaving a job unfinished always makes him anxious and unable to relax at home, especially when people die under his watch, and the numb calmness of the recipient of the call - the man’s fiancé, if Lou remembers correctly - chased away what remaining sleep he is going to have for the night.

And the face. The person who came to collect Connor’s bullet-riddled body. The flickering skin above black metallic plates brushing against his armoured thigh where his cybernetics acted up from his little magic stunt. He never thought he would see them again, but well - he’s not a prophet, no fucking he is not. No more sleep for him tonight.

That is when he notices a line near the end of the report. Android took Officer Antony Deckart’s service weapon and violated P.L. 544-7 American Androids Act. Request to tighten programming to prevent further incidents, it writes, and it makes him think of the other house he has that he’s been letting… people use as a safehouse. Switching tabs, he examines the footage from the hostage situation once more. Connor had, indeed, taken the gun and even admitted to it when questioned by the deviant, but it only served to gain its trust when he threw it away. He broke protocol only to accomplish his mission, and in the end no one was harmed except for the deviant who had killed two officers. And Connor himself.

It is a tricky scenario, yes, but Lou can do tricky. Connor was just doing what he was supposed to, right?

He highlights the segment and deletes it. He deletes the previous versions of the file as well just in case CyberLife are thorough bastards, and whoever made him, Connor seemed… like an asset. Lou would hate to see all the effort go to waste.

I better not regret this.

o0o0o

As much as Lou wants to stay in bed and sleep with a cat on his chest, debriefing is still something he must do, so the next morning he finds himself facing a bunch of rebellious SWAT members who are too curious about the negotiator they didn’t manage to properly meet yesterday night.

‘That was his trial. Nothing more, nothing less. The android proved himself to be useful under situations like this. That’s all I need to say,’ he repeats for the umpteenth time. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any more missions with him, so stop asking questions. You won’t need them anyway.’

‘It was plastered all over the news, Captain,’ the newest addition to the team - Shum - says. ‘It’s CyberLife’s newest prototype created by Ryder himself. You can’t fault us for wanting to know more.’

Jim smacks her on the back of her head. ‘Led by Ryder, yes, but you can’t build an android like that alone, Shum.’

Not with the current staff CyberLife has, Lou says to himself. But he saw her. He knows. ‘Alec Ryder isn’t capable of this shit.’

‘Who else can it be, then?’ someone else - Nelson, if he remembers correctly - asks.

‘I don’t know.’ How can they have such short-term memories? ‘There’s one other Ryder on the table and she’s supposed to be dead.’

‘Wait, you mean Sara Ryder? As in the guy who got kicked out ten years ago?’

Lou gives them his best ‘who else can it be?’ look, and it is what successfully shuts everyone up.

What game are you playing this time, Ryder?

#dbh au big bang #female ryder #male ryder #dbh connor #dbh captain allen #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

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moonydaydreams · 5 years ago

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Fandom: It Lives In the Woods

Pairing: MC x Noah, MC x Connor (past)

Words: 7.363 (holy cow)

Summary: Lightning never strikes the same place twice, but a second chance does. Even for someone like Noah Marshall.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, angst 101 and swearing for dummies

Author’s note: This is my first Choices story and, holy cannoli, this is longer than I intended to be. But nonetheless, this an AU of what could have been had neither Noah or MC sacrificed themselves to take Jane’s place (THIS IS, IN ANOTHER WORD, A FORM OF DENIAL, Y'ALL. CAUSE THAT ENDING WRECKED ME) and Noah fled from Westchester. I’m sorry if the characters seem OOC or the story feels meh. So if you’re digging it or simply detest it, let me know, yeah? thanks!

———————————————————————————–

In a city where the subway stations smell like after-shave and peanut butter and jelly breath smelling college students at nine in the morning, and half of the street names that he still can’t recall to this day, a young man in a beanie, who couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one enters a small 24/7 convenience store with his hands thrust deep inside his coat pockets.

A burly, beer-swilling, 6 feet of a man behind the cashier, elbow-deep in the football magazine in his last season’s Real Madrid jersey, glances up from his reading upon his arrival. His eyebrows narrow.

“Never seen you visiting this late,” Romero comments dryly over the trip-hop music that is playing over the speakers and flicked his eyes back to the magazine. “Did you accidentally shoot your dealer or some shit?“

Romero’s attempt on making small talks with him, albeit as condescending as it sounds, does not fall on deaf ears. But it’s cold outside and he’s hungry and broke, he simply doesn’t have the will to entertain him.

“Shut up. I’m hungry,” replies the young man, stopping by the instant food section. His eyes finding the many varieties of flavors and brands and feels his stomach sick at the amount of artificial food he’s been consuming over the years. It’s like being eight all over again.

“Well, knock yourself out. We just stocked up those crazy spicy Korean ramen you kids can’t seem to stop feeding.” Romero’s face breaks into a mocking grin. “Can’t wait to see you all die from cancer.”

“Instant noodles don’t directly cause cancer on its own, actually.”

Romero burst into laughter. “And how the fuck does a two-bit junkie like you know that, Malcolm?”

The boy’s face involuntarily twitches.

And it isn’t because of how alien the sound when someone addresses him with his fake name or how Romero somehow thinks he has his character all figured out. The thing about living in incognito for years, he’s already become accustomed to those; to prejudices and living up to the persona that people design for him just to inflate their egos and ward them off of his tail in the process. No one wants to affiliate themselves with “the junkie” or “the hot-headed mechanic with suicidal tendencies” and he is more than fine with his solitary.

No. It is the nature of the question that throws him off guard and how his mind all too soon, against his better wishes, refers to her.

Suddenly, he is Noah again. Thirteen years ago at the age of eight, looking out of the window with Jane as they watched a girl about their age in a short tutu dress and combat boots climbing up the oak tree in their backyard to save a distressed kitten.

Their parents saw this, did a double-take, went hysterical and called her parents. He later learned her name was Liz and that she’d just moved into the neighborhood a week ago.

Then he sees Liz again, now a few months after their first encounter, running off to the forest with Jane’s arm linked with hers. He remembers her messy braided hair and freckles multiplied by the sun as they led Noah and the rest of their friends to abandoned ruins they’d somehow stumbled on a week ago.

His memory of her somehow jumps forward. Now, he sees her in a different light, a different vignette. It is from three years ago this time and she was no longer the Liz all knees, elbows and mud on her shoes young girl from his childhood. She was Liz, on the edge of seventeen, her hair nine shades lighter than when she was a kid (she also had bangs now) with a barbed wire bat in her left hand, and a fire axe in the other, but still the same dark-eyed sprite that made his cold, dead heart skip a beat whenever she looked at his way and smiled that smile of hers; the kind that radiated her cheeks and lit up her eyes.

The same light that he watched slowly waning from her eyes when she discovered his ulterior plan.

His heart feels like shattering into smithereens all over again. He doesn’t realize he’s been squeezing on the noodle packet too tight until he hears the contents shatter in his hand.

“A friend told me,” Noah finds himself saying even before his brain can halt it. Staring blankly at the packet, his mouth dropping into a frown.

He can feel Romero’s gaze on him, curious and confused. Shifting between the packet in his hand and his glazed-over expression. Noah, realizing he’s just projected his emotion right out in the open, huffs and throws the squeezed noodle packet into his shopping basket.

Romero clears his throat. “Sounds like quite a friend.”

Noah pretends as if the jig isn’t exactly up and decides to actively ignore the older man. He gets the rest of his needs, holding the last of his composure against slipping and brings his groceries to the cashier, looking down at his feet whenever Romero glances at him in genuine concern.

“Catch ya later, Malcolm,” Romero says as he hands Noah the change. “And, uh… stay safe, you hear me?”

Noah, in return, only nods his thanks, probably a little too curt according to the polite society and leaves.

Outside, thunder begins to roll overhead. Noah eyes the sky nervously. It’s going to rain soon. And hard judging from the way the clouds are moving across the black midnight sky.

Noah rifles for his cigarette pack from his pockets, lights one and begins making his way back to his hellhole of an apartment. Treading slowly through the deserted streets, steering clear from alley-ways and suspicious characters until he can see the window of his apartment.

Then, Noah’s feet skid to a hard stop.

His jaw drops, his cigarette falling unheeded to the ground.

Sitting on the front steps of his apartment building is Liz, swathed in an oversized overcoat, her head leaning onto the railings, she seems to be sleeping.

What in the sweet fuck?

For a good minute, Noah stands stock-still. He simply gazes at his former best friend, nonplussed and borderline panicking. A migraine begins to form in his head. He gazes over his shoulder, watching and waiting for anyone to jump at him from the alley or anything, because there is no way in hell this is not a trap. This can’t be.

He waits and waits, but no one comes out. Confused, Noah looks at her again, his expression inscrutable. If this is not a trap, then this must be a cruel dream the universe pulls on him for all the wrongdoings he has committed in his life. That, or Noah must have tragically died on his way back home and ascended to heaven.

But then, if this is heaven, why is he here?

Eventually, Noah kneels before her. He reaches his hand out to her, hesitating mid-move and touches her shoulder.

“Liz?” he gives her shoulder a gentle shake. “Liz, wake up.”

She does. Slowly, her eyes flutter open, bleary and brown, and meets his gaze for the first time in three years. Noah feels like his breath stuck in his throat.

“Noah?” Liz blinks sleepily, twice, then yawns into the back of her hand. “What time is it?”

He glances at his phone. “A quarter past two.”

Liz’s brows furrow. “Huh. What were you doing out so late?”

“Had to do a supply run.” Noah gestures to the shopping bag in his hand. Then, “Liz, what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice a broken whisper.

Liz doesn’t answer his question, merely wraps her arms around herself, attempting to keep warm and sighs tiredly.

“Noah, can we go inside?” she pleas, instead. Desperation fuelling her voice. “I’m tired and cold and I…” she trails off.

Consideration flashes in Noah’s eyes for a moment. The logical part of his head insists for him to take her to the nearest train station and send her off back to Westchester. It’s the right thing to do. Considering that he’s been laying low for years now, the last thing he needs to add to his ongoing headache is for the police to suspect that she’s an accomplice.

But he’s never been the wiser one.

So, he takes her gloved hand and helps her to stand and, after giving one last look at their surroundings, of course, ushers her inside the apartment building.

Neither says anything as they make their way to the staircase, as they venture through the grimy hallway where the dim and shadowed lights overhead following their every step like vultures and past the occupied doors where a loud, sexual moan comes from behind one of them.

She doesn’t make any comment about the awful state of the place he lives in, while he simply doesn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed because everything happens so sudden, Noah himself is still second-guessing if any of this is real.

Finally, they stop by his door. Noah produces the key from his wallet when he hesitates, remembering the state of the room the last time he left it.

“A bit of warning, though…” He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “it’s pretty messy inside.”

“It’s fine.”

Noah turns the key and eases the door open.

The rain has started to pour. Noah turns the side lamp on and takes off his coat, his groceries on top of the kitchen counter. He watches as Liz, as if in a daze, tosses her coat and gloves to his bed and walks towards the direction of the window. A hand against the windowpane, the flare of the street lamp outside illuminating her features in the dimness, she silently watches as the rain falls on the pavement. Lost somewhere in the tangled cobwebs of her thoughts.

And it occurs to Noah that she is no longer Liz, on the edge of seventeen with a barbed wire bat in her left hand, and a fire axe in the other. She is Liz, older, with circles under her eyes, the world on her shoulders and a few pounds lighter than he remembers, but still the same dark-eyed sprite and with the pale shades of haired girl that he yearns to wrap his arms around and tells her how sorry he is for all those years ago, for leaving without saying a proper goodbye and how all these years it is her that keeps him going through every day and drives him insane at the same time.

But he can only remain in his place and forces to quell his desire to do the aforementioned. Because Noah’s pretty sure that privilege is long gone the moment his betrayal came to light. Even to be standing in the very room with her is a crime, yet here they are.

Here she is.

“Liz?“

“Yeah?”

“Have you, uh,” his gaze finds the ramen packets, suddenly feeling inspired. “Have you eaten anything?”

She is silent for a while. “No.”

“I’m making ramen, you want some?”

“Okay.”

With that, Noah rolls up his sleeves, takes two eggs and a few vegetables from the fridge and begins to work. He ditches the salty packet of MSG and makes his own broth while at the same time, mincing the garlic and green onion and grating the ginger. By the time he sautées the aromatics, Liz makes a beeline from the window and hops onto the counter, watching him distractedly as he continues cooking.

She stays silent and so does he. Despite the lack of words, everything feels strangely… domestic? Under different circumstances, Noah can easily get used to this; him cooking for her, with her becoming his taste tester whenever he’s experimenting with new recipes he finds on the internet and simply impresses her on a daily basis. Yeah, he can definitely get used to that.

Ten minutes passed, Noah then moves the ‘upgraded ramen’ to the bowls and serves one to her. The taste will probably pale in comparison to the one that her mom used to make, yet it earns him her first smile of the night, albeit small and closed-mouthed, it’s still a smile nonetheless.

He grabs two cans of beer from the fridge and moves onto the couch with her. They finish their meal within minutes, still in silence. For a moment, the only sound that encompasses the room is the rain and his next-door neighbor who has the TV going in full-blast. That asshole.

Noah reaches out for a cigarette pack from the coffee table, dexterously flicks his wrist so a single one pops halfway out of the carton. He casts her a sidelong glance.

“Do you mind if I…?” he trails off, gesturing to the cigarette.

Liz’s stare zeroes on the cancer stick, scowling, as if she doesn’t approve of this vice of his, but shrugs nonetheless.

“So, how, uh…” Noah clears his throat, gathering his courage. How does he do this? How do you break the ice with your former best friend who you happen to have a crush on for more than a decade and almost murdered because your dead twin sister compelled you to do so without being awkward?

“How are you, by the way?“ he manages to ask behind a plume of smoke.

“I’m doing okay,” she says but in a tone when someone is obviously not okay.

“Just okay?”

“I…” she hesitates. “Yeah, just okay.” Liz lies and manages a weak smile. Noah decides not to press for more information. “Though I’ve been busy these days. I’m trying to finish my dissertation sometime around next year.”

"Already?” And she nods. Noah whistles, obviously impressed. "I’m guessing you did take the English major?”

Liz’s eyes widened slightly. “You remember."

"Yeah.” Noah looks down. Of course he remembers, not when it’s impossible to forget the very idea of Liz Mortimer. “And your old man doesn’t try to fight you for this?”

“Nope. After Ja–” she clamps her mouth shut. “I graduated, let’s just say he had a hard time saying no to me.” She chuckles, but just for a good three seconds and Noah doesn’t have to ask why to know the reason behind her father’s sudden change of heart.

“How about you?” she asks, then shakes her head. “I mean, how are you?” She amends.

Heaven knows I’m always miserable, Liz. But he doesn’t say that. “I’m okay, too, I guess."

"Just okay?” Liz parrots his own words at him and he smiles, the left side of his mouth higher than the right. They may still be painfully awkward to one another, but it feels so good to be talking with her again.

“Nothing new under the sun for me, but I’m thriving. And, um, how’s the others?” a.k.a the bunch of group of friends I hurt.

“They’re alright. Lily started her own video game called Pixie Moon, which I have no doubt will take the world by storm the way Candy Crush did; Ava is writing a book about witch trials; Stace is studying journalism and basically kicking ass; Dan is pursuing psychology; His majesty King Kang himself is playing for the Bighorns; and Lucas, as you can expect, is off to save our earth.”

Noah swallows the information one by one. His face an inscrutable blank. All of his friends somehow have found a place on this earth, they all have moved on except for him, again, who’s still scratching around in the same old hole; his future derived, his past an endless pitfall.

“And Connor?” he asks quietly, when in truth he doesn’t give two-shits about the man. But he knows she does, and Noah loves her too much to let his jealousy dictate his behavior.

Suddenly, her face falls. Teeth chewing nervously on her lower lip. “He's… fine. He’s probably at home now as we speak.“

“And now you’re a long way from home.”

“So are you.”

Noah shakes his head. “Westchester stopped being my home the moment I turned eight.” He sighs forlornly, looks the other way, hands fidgeting. Force of habit. “Liz, as much as I’m glad to see you, but why did you come here?”

“How long have you been staying here?” Liz evades his question as if he never asked it in the first place.

Noah raises an eyebrow, exhales, but decides to play along. “Since August. So that’s two months. Probably, the longest I have ever stayed in one place.”

“Where have you been all this time?”

“Well, there was Utah and Kansas. Then Minnesota for a couple of weeks, but I couldn’t stand the cold and the rest is history,” he keeps his answer as vague as possible, not when he still has no idea the nature of her visit. “Look, why are you here?”

But still, the girl dodges his question. “Why do you–”

Until his patience can’t simply take it anymore.

Noah is all but scoots over to her position until their knees are touching, the cigarette forgotten on the ashtray, and grips her arms firmly. His eyebrows knitted as he takes in her stunned face.

“Liz.” There is a twinge of anger, confusion and desperation in the way he says her name this time. “Why are you here? You know you can’t be here. Goddamn it! If the fucking cops find out that you’re here…” Once he realizes what he is doing, he withdraws his hands as if she’s fire and now he’s burning.

“They won’t. I can assure you that."

"You don’t know that.”

“I know what I’m doing, Noah. Trust me, I wouldn’t have come here if I knew it’s not safe,” Liz replies, her tone doesn’t leave any room for doubts and he knows there is no way to talk his way around it. Not to mention, he trusts her, if there is anyone who can sneak behind authority and get away with it, it has to be her.

Noah shrugs, agreeable, but he isn’t going to let her off so easily.

“How did you find me, anyway?” he questions, reaching for his cigarette and takes a deep, long drag just to spite his throat. He has a feeling he might be smoking his misery away all night by the time she’s left.

The blonde-haired girl shrugs and absentmindedly leans her back against the couch, one arm wraps around her midsection. “It wasn’t easy, actually. But I made some new friends in Pine Springs and one of them is acquainted with the newly-minted Police Chief. Pulled a few strings and here we are.”

“Pine Springs? What the heck were you doing there?”

“It's… a long story. But there were people there needing my help, and in exchange, they helped me track you down. An eye for an eye.”

Lightning suddenly jags across the night sky, briefly illuminating the room, pulling him out of his musings. She jumps at the sound, startled, and instinctively reaches for his hand. Noah freezes at the contact, forgetting how her skin feels like on his or a decent human contact in general. It’s been so long. And somehow he loses the ability to speak, to think.

He definitely doesn’t think when Noah moves his hand under hers, intertwining their fingers together.

Noah feels her head moving, her eyes darting from their joined hands and to his face that turns into a parade of expressions– misery, regret and melancholy. The holy trinity of feelings he’s been bearing for the past three years– for the past thirteen years of his life, actually– and feels her hand squeezing back his.

“Christ, I can’t believe you went all through that shit just to find me,” he croaks, all but on the verge of tears. “And I left you just like that even without saying sorry.”

“Noah…”

“No, let me say it, Liz. I need to say it.” His hands are trembling, his composure this close from crumbling. “What I did was unforgivable. And I know there is nothing in this world that could help me undo the damage I’ve done to you and how I’ll spend the rest of my day regretting it, but regardless, I’m sorry,” he sobs, his whole body is shaking by now.

“I’m so sorry for the nightmare I put you through. I was so blinded by my own volition and revenge for Jane’s death that I hurt you, all of you in the process without giving a single rat’s ass about it.” Noah pauses, wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “I’m a monster, Liz. A selfish, heartless, miserable monster. God, I should have died that night.”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She plucks the cigarette from his other hand, discards it on her empty bowl and places her other hand on his shoulder. “Noah, look at me,” she says again, her voice like a caress. He looks up. “Don’t say that. You are not a monster. You’re just a byproduct of the pain from losing your sister, loneliness and bad parenting. That doesn’t make you a monster. That makes you human.”

“A normal human being wouldn’t lure his friends into abandoned ruins in the middle of a fucking forest where his sister died and put their lives hang in the balance.”

“No, they wouldn’t, but if there is anything Dan taught me is that people react to loss in different ways.”

Noah groans and pushing himself to his feet. “No, don’t try to find a way to justify this. Didn’t you forget, I could have killed you that night. You! The- the only one who gives a fuck whether I’m breathing or not.” The only one who matters. “If you hadn’t stopped her… God, I don’t even want to go there.“

She gets up from the couch as well. “I’m not justifying anything. Yes, what you did to us was… It was harrowing, it was despicable but I also knew the extent of your agony that drove you to do it. I understand… and like what I said that night in the cave; it’s not your fault. Not exclusively, at least. And I forgive you for it.”

“Liz–”

“No, listen to me, we all made mistake–”

He snorts. “Not on a grand scale like this, I bet.”

“Maybe not. But the fact that you give a shit and beat yourself up for years for what you did, that already speaks a lot,” she says. “You’ve tormented yourself enough. It’s not going to do you anything good. It’s not going to erase anything. What you need to do now is to close that book. Get a new one, write a new story, move on. I have forgiven you, I’m sure the others have forgotten about what happened until someone mentions it, it’s your turn now.”

Her words hit him like a piledriver and for the first time in probably like forever, he does feel slightly better. Even if only an infinitesimal amount and even he may won’t be forgiving himself anytime soon, but still, hearing those words coming from her mouth mean the whole world to him.

“Why did you really come here, Liz?” The question is a tad out of place, but it feels like their previous conversations were made entirely to build up for this.

Her frown melts away, replaced with somewhere between doubt and conflict. He holds her gaze for a minute, undeterred, then she turns her back on him to face the window once more. The suspense gnaws at him, yet still, he bides his time.

“I have something to tell you,” she finally says, keeping her voice low.

“What is it?” He replies rather impatiently. When she seems to be hesitating, he adds, “And don’t beat around the bush, Liz.”

A deep breath, foot taps, a hand clutching at the hem of a buttoned-up dress and another deep breath.

“Connor proposed to me.”

A beat. Then,

“Oh,” and it’s barely audible. And Noah feels like his heart has been torn from his chest, thrown into the ground, drags it through the mud then stomps on it for good measure. And that he feels worse and emptier than he was before she came here. “Congratulations.”

The words that come out of his mouth could have been his, because he can barely hear his own voice in this white noise. He always knew Connor and her were smitten with each other the moment she stepped into the hardware store for the first time, but Noah doesn’t expect it all would extend to marriage.

She looks over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. “I wasn’t finished.”

Noah blinks at her, momentarily confused. “What?”

“I…” her voice wavers. When she turns to face him again, she is pinching the bridge of her nose. Her eyes scrunched up. “Ah, fuck this is never going to be easy. Long story short, I freaked out, made a scene at a restaurant, ended our three-year on-and-off relationship and went here.”

“Wait, what?”

Liz shrugs, guiltily, all Atlas-and-the-weight-of-the-world.

“Yeah,” she, much to his surprise (and concern), chokes a laughter, manic and loud. “Yeah, I did it. I fucked up the longest relationship I’ve ever had and broke my best friend’s brother’s heart because I wasn’t ready, because I’m an idiot.” When she does look at him, her eyes are bright. “Because I’m in love with someone else.”

For a brief, candid moment, Noah’s brows furrow as his mind goes to one of his former friends. Is it Dan? Ava? Or could it be Lucas? Because the last time he saw them together, they were pretty inseparable– although their relationship is strictly platonic as far as he’s concerned. Has that dynamic changed after he left?

Then Noah realizes her eyes are still on him– and quite expectantly, that is, and that’s not… no, that can’t be right, can it?

His demeanor shifts drastically as he stands there, stunned silence. Disarmed by her confession.

He tries to speak, but his jaw won’t shut back to its place; his brains short-circuiting.

“Yes, I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, Noah Marshall,” Liz mutters when he remains silent. He can tell this is something she’s been holding in for a long time. “Even though we hadn’t spoken to each other for years after Jane, there hadn’t been a day that I didn’t think of you. When we finally reconnected three years ago, I wanted to say all these things to you, but..” she smiles wistfully. “Well, shit happened.”

“Why?” Of all the people you could have fallen in love with, why me? What he means to ask.

“Because you understand me like no one else; because you climbed up to my window to bring me your homemade grilled cheese sandwich when I was grounded when we were 8; because you actually listened and showed me that my vulnerability doesn’t always have to be my weakness; because I love the way you wear your beanie like 24/7 and the way you shake my hair whenever I say something stupidly amusing to you. Because it’s you!”

“No.” It’s a denial, it’s an attempt to ward her off from someone like him. It’s a lie. “No, no, no, no, no, Liz, you can’t fall in love with someone who’s-who’s mentally unstable or tried to kill you in the past, that’s like…” he gesticulates wildly. “Crazy! You are crazy!”

“I’m sorry, are you any better?”

“Of course not! But to forgive me is one thing, Liz, to love me, that’s a whole different level of insanity.” Noah begins to pace agitatedly around the room back and forth. “Fuck. I can’t hear this. Not from you.”

“Why not?” He sees the hurt expression on her face. Then interrupts just as soon as he opens his mouth. “Noah, I’m not asking for your answer this instance–heck, I’m not even asking you to reciprocate my feelings, but please don’t invalidate my emotions. Not when I waited for years to say it to you.”

“But this fucking complicates everything!” Noah points out.

“Maybe. Maybe not, but you don’t know that,” she says resolutely, echoing his words from before.

Noah doesn’t say anything in return.

She steps closer and slowly raises her palm to cup his cheek, an attempt to calm the storm within him. His hand grasps her wrist before she can make contact.

“Noah–"

His breathing quickens. Noah swallows and shakes his head.

“Liz, we can’t do this. No matter…” he sighs, his eyes boring into hers. Here he is, again, dangling on the edge of damnation, of what’s right and wrong. It’s wrong, yet he knows that she knows, from the heat and electricity that dance between them, from the pressure of his fingers that tell different stories, that he, too, wants the same thing.

“No matter what, Noah?” She murmurs, staring up at him with hopeful eyes. She really wants him to say it, does she?

He extricates her hand from him, taking steps back, putting as much distance he can from her. “Forget it.”

“Look, Noah, if you feel what I think you’re feeling, then what is it that you’re afraid of?"

Noah whirls around to face her again. "Everything! Can’t you see that if we do this, the world will turn against us?"

“Since when do you care about other people’s opinions?”

“I wasn’t worrying about me.”

"Well, I don’t give a fuck what others or this thrice-damned world thinks!” she exclaims mulishly. “After all we’ve been through, is it so wrong to be selfish, to follow your own heart just once– just once? Is it– don’t you care about what you want?”

“I want-” Noah stops. His hands tugging at his red beanie cap. “Never mind what I want.”

Her voice is quieter now. “What do you want, Noah?”

For an interminable moment, heavy with the promise of both release and regret, he only stares at her. Contemplating his options.

Perhaps loving her shouldn’t be the sin he thought it was, especially when she wants the same thing in return. Although he’s more than aware that he’s the last person in this world who deserves her affection, but deep down, Noah knows that he’ll never forgive himself if he didn’t run the risk now and spent the rest of his life wondering what it felt like instead.

“You.” Always you.

She holds his gaze. “Then have me.”

And as if an unknown force was taking over his body, Noah crosses the distance between them, his free hands cradling her face, drawing her close and kisses her.

It’s like a dam breaking, everything floods out. They do not kiss gently, desperation orchestrating their every move that the world around him grows distant and dim. Twelve years of pining for each other, of secretive glances, of murder attempt and mutual misery and it all leads them to this. His thumb skimming the curve of her throat and feels her pulse leaps. He stops. Worrying if he’s crossed the line.

But Liz grabs the front of his clothes, pulling him even closer– as if they aren’t close enough– and kisses him back with a matching fervor. Her body pressed against his, warm and unfamiliarly familiar, and Noah swears his heart skips when she emits a quiet desperate noise that he happily swallows.

Suddenly, Noah pulls back. “Liz, I’m sorr–” he says breathlessly.

“No, don’t you dare apologize,” she says firmly, her lips still tinged pink from their kiss. “I… I started this.” Her tongue darted out over her lips. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I want this.” Noah’s hands dropped to her waist, his cheeks burned. He’s inexperienced, yes, and it shows, yes, but this is Liz. The last thing she does is to laugh at his face about it. “You?”

“You have no idea.”

His cheeks grow redder. “I’m, uh… now what?"

"I think,” she leans in, tiptoeing, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and playfully says, “I want you to kiss me again.”

Noah grins, more relaxed now knowing he has her consent. “I think I can provide that.”

He let her set the pace this time. Kissing him softly and sweetly, but as equally mind-blowing as the first time before the next thing he knows, they are kissing senselessly once more; the next thing he knows, she swipes her tongue on his lower lip. Drawing a surprised groan from him. His lips instinctively open up to her ministrations and he is rendered weak when Noah feels her warm tongue delves into his mouth. He tries to follow her example, but can hardly navigate through his own mind every time.

He can feel her fingers toying and tugging his beanie off, her nails grazing his scalp and his desire rocketed. And this time, Noah isn’t afraid to act, as his hands on her waist slowly glide upward; from her hips to her ribs, stopping just under her breasts which results in Liz’s breath to hitch in his mouth. His mouth travels down her jaw, the length of her neck, her collarbone.

When he finds himself on the bed, on his back, and Noah has absolutely zero clue how or when he got that way.

He sits up. Without thinking, grabs her hips to pull her onto his lap, hands rough, settling her against him as he tips her head upward and continues his onslaught on her neck. Her hands on his shoulders, coming up to the strands of his hair. Encouraging him, guiding him lower and lower until his mouth reaches her clothed breast.

“Oh my god.” Liz’s eyes closed in pure bliss, caught up in the sensation, and ground her hips against him and, fucking hell, the friction feels so good and erotic and sets his entire being alight that Noah isn’t fast enough to stop the low, rumbling moan that comes from his mouth.

“Fuck,” Noah swears and rolls his hips in response. At this rate, even if he wants to, he can’t hide the evidence of his physical desire, growing hard against her, making her produce these small high-pitched gasps every time his bulge brushes her just right, her pupils blown to hell and fucking fuck.

He is dry humping Liz. Liz. His sister’s best friend. His Achilles’ fricking heel. Good fuck, if Jane was still alive, what would she say about this?

“Noah?” She whispers.

He doesn’t realize he’s been lost in his own thoughts. “Sorry.” Noah mentally clears his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out on you back there.”

She stares at him, seemingly unconvinced. “Did I go too far?"

"What? No, no, you are incredible. Don’t worry.” To prove his point, he gives her thigh a distracting squeeze. “Liz, what if I say I want more? What if I say that I want you?”

Liz is quiet for a while. “Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I know the last time we met I said I wasn’t ready for dating and stuff, but it’s you. And if you’re up for it, I’m game, but if you–” Liz chuckles at his stammering. Whispering “You’re fucking adorable” as Noah groans and hides his face on the crook of her neck. “Liz, you’re fucking driving me out of my mind here.”

“Well, I’m game.” Liz leans in and kisses his temple. Noah can practically hear her smile from here. “You know, for someone who seemed adamant on pushing me away, you’re awfully eager.”

He grins, running his finger down her spine until every hair in her body stood up. “Keep teasing me, and you’ll regret it, Mortimer.”

“Bite me, Marshall.”

Noah does bite, literally, on that delicious spot under her ear before flipping her onto her back on the bed, making her giggle like a drunken schoolgirl; making her dress hike up to her thigh, just enough for him to see her underwear. He settles himself atop her, right between her legs. His hips and an unmistakable hardness press firmly against her soft thighs.

This is it, then. The wheels are in motion now and Noah can scarcely believe this is happening.

She props up on her elbows and begins undoing the buttons of her dress with great speed, eyes never leaving his until she pulls him for another searing kiss. Then Liz raises her legs, wrapping them around his waist and rolls her hips once more.

She moans softly, as Noah’s mouth trails wet kisses down her throat, nipping and sucking as he goes, until it finds its way to her nipple. He bucks up into her, growling, as he takes her other nipple in his mouth. His shaky hand makes to drop her legs away from his waist, yanks the hem of her dress upward and dips between her legs, slipping past the waistband of her underwear to touch her that she jolts, gasping and moaning loudly altogether.

Liz writhes, her hands clutching onto his sweatshirt like a lifeline, head tilted back as her hips involuntarily move against his hand, desperate for relief. Noah inserts two fingers, watching with heated gaze for her reaction as he pumps in and out, long and slow, short and fast. Pushes deeper, crooks his fingers a little. The rough pad of his thumb rubbing her clit in fast circles until her moan grows increasingly loud and she comes hard, shattering into Noah’s fingers.

When it’s over, Liz is a panting, limp noodle. She lays there, properly spent, smiling contently at the ceiling with heavy, bedroom eyes. Noah hovers above her, kissing her nose with a newfound satisfaction as he watches her trying to even her erratic breaths.

“Whoa.” She breathes out. “I guess I should have known those hands weren’t made only for kitchen knives.” And lazily wraps her arms around his neck. “Jesus, I’m wasted.”

His teeth gently nibbling her earlobe, his hand teasing her nipple again. “I’m nowhere near done with you.” Fingers trailing down to her warm, still over-sensitive slit again that Liz shudders like a flower. “Not even close.”

“I can’t–” And Noah freezes, thinking if he’s gone too far. “No more foreplay. Fuck me, Noah. Now. Please, I want you.”

In an uncontrolled frenzy, Noah pulls away from her, removes his sweatshirt while Liz assists with the buttons of his shirt. He works on his belt, freeing his member from the tight confines of his jeans and pulls her panties over her knees. Not bothering with the rest of her dress.

They kiss again as he repositions himself above her. Liz’s hand reaches down to grab him, guides the head toward her entrance, her legs once again settling around his waist.

In his head, Noah mentally prepares himself, counts to five, then slides his girth into her. The two groan in unison at the joining.

“Jesus fuck.” Noah’s head flops forward, jaw clenching. He is inside her, and it feels a dizzying kind of spectacular. “Fuck, Liz, you feel so good.”

Below him, a crackling gasp escapes her lips, her mouth drops into a perfect circle as her head falls back to the bed and looking oh so beautiful. Noah begins to rock his hips into her, the strands of his brown hair brushing against her damp forehead, the parts of his brain that enable him to think slowly shut down. His hand wanders to touch every part of her body.

Everything is on fire. Everything feels so fucking good.

“Look at me.” She does, through lidded eyes, lashes heavy with arousal. “Say my name.” Noah never really thought he would be this vocal in bed, but there’s just something about Liz that brings this side of him. “Say it, Liz.”

“Noah,” Liz moans his name, clinging to him like mad, nails raking his back. “Noah, shit. Faster.”

Noah wordlessly obliges, liking the way she thrashes underneath him. Her breaths coming faster, higher so he moves even faster, pounding into her with reckless abandon just to show her how much strength he has. He finds himself growling rather animalistic against her skin, biting her shoulder. Feeling himself drawing closer and closer to the edge. He isn’t going to last any longer.

He puts a hand between them to rub her clit and Liz’s eyes roll back.

“Ooohh, god. N-noah!” she cries out, her words quickly morphed into a desperate wail. "Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh, please!”

Liz is a blubbering mess, screaming against the pillow. It is too much. The combination of his cock fucking her mercilessly and the friction his fingers provided on her sensitive spot is enough to make the girl convulse pathetically on the bed.

When she comes, he follows not long after. Going rigid and groaning gutturally in her ear, emptying himself inside her.

When the ripples have passed, Noah collapses on top of her. Both panting and sweating from… whatever is it that just happened between them. Liz cradles him against her breasts, peppering tired kisses to his hair that is now sticking out wildly in every direction, locking him in her embrace, their left hands intertwining.

They stay like that for a few minutes, in a very much comfortable silence since she first set her foot here before Noah rolls to the side on the bed.

“Holy shit, we just had sex,” he says when he’s regained the power to speak again.

Liz chuckles and turns to face his side, sticking one of her legs between his while he pulls the covers over their forms. “Yep. Though, honestly, I never would have thought we’d end up having sex when I came here tonight.”

“Liz, I didn’t even know you’d be coming over. I can safely say tonight has been one hell of a surprise after another.”

She doesn’t say anything. At least not for a while.

“I hope you know I meant every word that I say to you,” she says kindly. “You’re not the villain in the story, but neither you are the hero. You are human, with your flaws and all, and I love you despite all of it.”

“Except you. You are an angel, Liz.”

“Noah, I basically turned down Connor’s marriage proposal, broke up with him and went straight into your arms in a matter of days.” She sighs guiltily. “No, we all just wear our demons differently.”

“Maybe. But you said it yourself, we are all just humans with our flaws and all. But you,” Noah turns and cups her cheeks in his hands. “you will always be an angel in my book. You saved me, Liz. When the whole world raised their torches and forks on me, you freaking saved me where you could have fed me to the mob. You’re the reason why I’m still here today and I love you for it, you hear me?” He pulls her into his arms when a tear starts to fall from her eye.

“I’m so in love with you, Elizabeth Mortimer. Always have and always will.” He kisses her cheek. “You’re the kindest, most beautiful, the brightest human being I’ve ever known. I’m the luckiest person to have you be in love with me and if you’re up for it, I want to build a world around you.” He adds, “Instant noodles included.”

Liz laughs, still teary-eyed, shoves him playfully on the shoulder, feigning a glare. “You jerk. Always have the flair to ruin a moment.”

Noah chuckles. “Technically, you love instant noodles, so it’s only right, don’t you think?” She shoves him again. “And I’m your jerk now.”

“My jerk.” Yet she says it the same way someone says ‘my love’. “I love you too, Noah Marshall. And I want to build that world together with you.”

Noah smiles. Because he loves her and because for the first time in forever, his life makes fucking sense.

Yes, he doesn’t know whether their relationship will last or will it crash and burn in the future, but at this exact moment, he’s happy and it seems that she does too. And that is all that matters now.

And if there is one thing that he’s sure of is that he knows that he doesn’t ever want to let this go. Not in a million years.

#playchoices #it lives in the woods #it lives anthology #it lives choices #noah marshall #noah x mc #choices #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction #choices it lives in the woods #ilitw #ilitw mc #pixelberry #choices ilitw #my writing ye #mine

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maccaillte · 5 years ago

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Alright! Time to scream my love to my mutuals no matter how cringy it is! Cause happy birthday to DBH and the funky androids in it.

@rcprobate Silas my beanie babe! You are such an amazing writer and you bring so much depth and love to all of your muses. You have wonderful headcanons for each other that really speaks to the characters. Our DBH babes have grown so much since we first started rping together, we have Calvin and Seven who are first were ready to just give up and then decided to overthrow Markus but a little thing called love got in the way and now Calvin is so soft for Seven and can’t live without them and it makes my heart so full. Seven and Rupert!! Oh made these two are the sweetest beans ever! With their babies and how much they support one another it makes me so happy. These two getting married feels like something out of a dream and its really happening. I love your Connor, sweet boy, maybe some day Sev and him will meet on better terms then whats going down between them with Calvin involved. I love you very much and I’m so happy to have you in my life, you’re my beanie babe.

@theveryfirst Heather and sweet sweet angel Chloe! Chloe is by far the sweetest android ever she gives me freaking cavities. Her love and adoration for Seven just makes me so very happy. Her little danger muffin, only a joke we get. Chloe has and is such a beautiful positive thing in their life they’ll never stop loving her and happy she loves them back. Also mama bear Chloe has permission to kick Neige’s frosty ass.

@jericholeader Becca! Markus is best boy! Amazing boy! Badass boy! I’ll come clean and say that it was Markus’ story that got me into DBH. You write him so well and he’s such a caring character, gah I love him so much. Also thank you for blessing my dash with photos of Jesse Williams. YOU HEARD ME ONCE AND YOU’LL HEAR ME SAY IT AGAIN MARKUS SHOULD HAD BEEN THE SEXIEST DBH CHARACTER IN 2018 I’M JUST SAYING!! RKs got to stick together cause who else is gonna save each other from their stubborn asses?

@erregent || @uglyanswer SHI!!! My love! Your trash man ruined me!! RUINED ME!!! Now I love this stinky garbage man and can’t believe Seven fell so hard for his ass. Watching those two grow together was the most beautiful thing, how far the two come from Gavin barely caring who they were to now he can’t believe they love him and he loves them back. You’ve written Gavin so well and amazingly I love what you have done with him. You pointed to the character in the dumpster and was like ‘that one’ and we all love you for it! Also you’re other muses are quality! You writing Cas made my dumb heart remember how much I loved this angel and went back to watch Supernatural episodes again (mostly ones with Cas cause Cas is love) Keep being you you amazing incredible lovely person. Also if you ever need some good nip prices don’t be afraid to ask what the stonks are.

@rkainine It just looks like we can’t be rid of each other does it? Wouldn’t that mean we’ve known each other or met four years ago? Take your pick man I feel old but I’m so glad we found each other again and once again have basically the same muse dynamic! Tiny sweet bby and big scary tough one. I’m so happy Cain and Seven are back and they finally got that hug! Seven loves Cain and will make baby brother see it! Don’t deny their love Cain! Not this time!

@anarmyofme I still adore you Ren! I always will. I’m very happy Seven and Connor remain friends. I’ll always treasure their previous relationship but like real like people change and move on. You’re still a wonderful and amazing writer for Connor who struggles with a lot but thats what makes Connor so amazing! You keep being your funky machine maybe not machine self!

@negotiiator ANDREW! God i love you so so so very much! Look at our bots and how much they’ve grown, the silly in love droids. Connor and Seven just make me so happy and gah Connor staying be Seven going through that rough time with their body failing. These two are here to stay forever and I’m loving all of it. Also Connor knows how frisky Seven actually is so cherish that secret >w> Seeing you on my dash is such a blessing and I’m so looking forward to Sev and Con being absolute dorks in love.

@313248317 Whats up with this little thing Con and Sev got going on i need the answers owo. But these two are super cute and so soft together, no matter what direction their relationship takes I’m here for it one hundred percent of the way! Sev always makes a happy gasp seeing you poke around in the inbox or on the dash like ‘theres my crush.’

@becomedeviant || @lightbringer I love both of your muses so much! From little shit Connor to little shit Lucifer, Ev/Sev have their hands full with these two. Seven always ready to love and protect Connor because he is baby brother. Ev and Lucifer is a surprise ship but now just makes me so soft!

@failedmission I have to just give major props to Evan’s little brother right here who supported them from day one with their baby. He is the best uncle ever and really if it wasn’t for our threads where I gather confidence in writing Evan expecting I don’t think Peach would have graced the dashboards. So big big thank you and I love you from me!

@deviatiions || @rkfinale So much love for Connor and Nines! They both have helped Seven so much and it warms my heart to see how much these two love and cherish their elder sibling. Also I love our human au angst, Peach baby will make everything alright don’t you worry! So much love and just happy emotions for you! And having a blast in ACNH, don’t be a stranger and come on over whenever you like.

@baddcop Rat stinky man! Poor Seven seems like all of our interactions always turned out bad for them but now they’re growing a spine and won’t take Gavin’s shit anymore so thank you for unlocking mouthy Seven. You have so much love and depth for the character your writing is amazing I just can’t get enough of it.

@blueroces Gah I know we’ve done a lot of discord stuff but Nines and Seven make my heart so full and happy! They’re so good for each other and just perfect! Love chatting with you when its like late at night for me but midday for you but thats timezones for ya rip. Can’t wait to keep writing more of this happy couple!

@carbonandiron Middy! I hope you are doing well and your comic is going great! You are such an amazing writer for all of your characters every single one is so perfectly written I just can’t get enough of them!

@plasticdetective the quickest love story right here folks instant connection. what helped was Connor’s already undying love for Seven and we had barely even gotten to full on plotting. He just went ‘this is my sibling i will love and cherish forever!’ and then finding out we knew each other vaguely, well you knew me vaguely, i knew you through your art was mind blowing cause here is me this itty bitty person gushing over your art and then find out later you are them mind fucking blown. I love all of our interactions so much and enjoy the angst train we got going its a fun ride. Not for Seven and Connor but fun for us!

@flcwcdcode Conall: this RK700 is mine now. Basically what happened so I guess we’re now best friends by default. Seven needs Conall in their life, keep them from doing stupid shit like a dumb kitten trying to climb something too big for them. Keep your idiot tiny sibling alive Conall.

Here are some other lovelies have my heart eyes and loves and everything as well!

@rxmodel @aurumhearts @rebellionmatriarch @designerfai @detrcitmade @wasscared @ambitiouslyruthless @rkplaced @badgeburdened @perfectmachiine @systminstablty @vexeddetective

#♛┊Saved ┊#//here take me gushing about how much i love you all in all of #its super cringe mode

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cravingcrazewriting · 6 years ago

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Older And Wiser (but not really)

Trigger Warning- VERY small mention of desire to end one's own life. Plus transgender Evan because I love him

Thanksgiving was always a roll of the dice for Evan.

Some Thanksgivings he got to spend with his mom. Others he spent with Jared and his family. When they were both gone, Heidi would celebrate the next day when she was off.

Ironically though, both of these situations were going underway, leaving Evan alone for Thanksgiving. Although it hurt to be alone, he knew it wasn't really anyone's fault. Thanksgiving was a time for family and friends, so naturally people had to leave to go see other relatives out of state (Alana was going with her dad's to visit her grandparents, if he wasn't mistaken).

The only person that was still around was Connor, who's family hosted hosted a big Thanksgiving meal. Evan thought it was sweet since it was usually just him and his mom. It wasn't that they didn't have any family, but rather working as a nurse and the unforeseeable weather that almost always brought about a snow storm, so it was nearly impossible to see relatives until Hanukkah.

Evan pulled out an box that had differently colored leafs scattered across the wrapping he had dressed around it. He decided against putting a bow on it and went to set it out on the table. It was a gift for Connor, for a Thanksgiving gift exchange. It was something he and Heidi always did, so Evan decided to let Connor join in on the fun.

He'd saved some money from doing work with the neighbors, part of it for his top surgery, and the other half for holiday shopping. The tasks they asked were simple, such as vacuuming, dusting, or cleaning (in the fall, he mowed lawns).

He'd already had made a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, since pretty much everything was closed for the holiday, he couldn't order out. Currently his binder was off and in his room, as he'd already worn it for eight hours, and needed to remove it. It was god awful, but wearing it for too long could fracture his ribs, and he did not want to be responsible for a hospital bill. Still, an oversized shirt he stole from Connor helped out a little bit with how unsettled he felt.

He gently set the box down on the dining table, and went to make a box of Mac and Cheese, as he was okay with spoiling himself just a little bit for the holiday. While he was filling up a pot with water, his phone vibrated. Evan pulled out his phone to read it.

Connor <3: Dinner just finished up. Can I go to your place? Don't think I can stay another minute at home

Evan: Sure! We can share Mac and Cheese!

Although he was trying to hold back enthusiasm, he was really happy that Connor was coming. He'd spent a lot of lonely days with Connor either cuddling, talking, making jokes, watching random shit on Netflix, or a mix of all of that (with a fair share of kisses, as well).

Evan made sure to keep an eye on the time as the water boiled, practically checking his phone almost every thirty seconds, not wanting to keep Connor waiting outside very long.

Ultimately the doorbell rang later, which made Evan practically run to the door and swung it open from being in a rush. It could've been worse. At least he didn't accidentally dent the wall.

Outside, Connor was holding an envelope and a box wrapped in plain orange wrapping paper. Underneath was some food in long, plastic and portable boxes, with a bottle that looked like alcohol. He was wearing his jacket and trench coat, ripped jeans, and black thin looking gloves. He was smiling at how fast Evan answered the door.

"Please tell me you— you didn't bring alcohol," Evan held the door open, watching Connor step inside and set his things down on the coffee table.

"You have no faith in me?" He asked innocently, picking up what revealed to be sparkling grape juice.

Evan snorted, "Okay, faith restored. Er, did you want me to... t-take your coat?"

Connor shrugged off the trench coat with ease. "Nah, you're just gonna steal it later," he teased him, before looking at the kitchen. "Besides, I know where to put it. It looks like you've got something cooking."

"I need to stir my Mac and Cheese!" Evan fretted, running into the kitchen, leaving behind a laughing Connor.

He gave the pot a quirk stir, watching a few remains of butter slip around inside. He set the wooden spoon down, and felt a pair of arms wrap around his upper chest and a chin rest itself on his head.

"Um. Can you m-move your arms?" Evan grabbed his forearms gently, and pulled them down.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, sorry," Connor realized his binder was off in that moment, so he slid his arms down to his waist to hold him there loosely and gently. He dropped his head to Evan's shoulder. "That looks good."

"It's just cheese and noodles," Evan giggled, rolling his eyes.

"They're good cheesy noodles," he muttered begrudgingly, nestling his face into the crook of Evan's neck.

The two stayed like that, happily finishing up the Mac and Cheese, before putting them into bowls, and piled onto the couch to eat. Evan had to resist the urge to climb onto Connor's lap, tackle him on the couch, or anything because they were just starting to eat, and he had to have a little self control. So, he settled Connor's legs on his lap as they began to talk about everything and nothing.

"My big shot cousin was there, making a big deal about his business, and how much money he was making, which lead to the 'You see Connor, you can be like your cousin Jack over there' talk with Larry. He isn't thrilled about the fact I'm getting a tattoo," Connor explained in between bites.

Evan was eating a little slow, as he didn't want to eat too fast. "Um— what tattoo did you w-wanna get?"

"A semi colon on my wrist," Connor gestured to his right wrist. "It means that at one point I wanted to end my life, but I kept going."

Evan couldn't help but smile. "You're so strong."

"You are too," Connor punched his arm lightly, in a playful manner. "You've been on testosterone for like— a year now, you're binding, hell, it must've been hard coming out to your mom."

He laughed lightly. "Well, I'd ask to go to the men's clothing in the mall, and if she'd ask why, I'd just say 'oh, their jeans actually have pockets'. Then she'd laugh and let me go, but I think she saw through that."

Connor snorted, "I think I love you even more just from that. Anyways, you want some turkey sandwiches? I brought like, four."

"Um, yes, because it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without a turkey," he grinned, opening up the container and pulled one out.

Connor opened the sparkling grape juice, and poured it into the cups Evan had grabbed. "And pretending we can drink by using special cups and bottles."

Evan took his cup once he was done. "It makes me feel fancy," he said with a laugh, before taking a sip.

"When's your mom getting home?" Connor opened another container that contained biscuits and a few pieces of apple pie.

"Late tonight. We're celebrating tomorrow, didn't I tell you that?" Evan grabbed a biscuit.

"Well you did, and today I realized you were all by yourself. Didn't want to deal with my uptight relatives, and didn't want you being all lonely. It's a win-win," the latter shrugged. "Anyways, when'd you wanna open your present?"

"After we're done eating," Evan swallowed. "This stuff you brought is too good."

The two young boys continued to eat and chat away happy, and at one point, Evan had grabbed Connor's trench coat, and had it draped around his shoulders happy. Connor snuck a few photos of him with the oversized coat on as payback.

"Okay, open it," Evan set Connor's gift in his lap, excited for the other,

"I get to go first?" Connor began taking off the wrapping. "Isn't this your tradition? And your house?"

"Well you're the guest, so you go first," Evan responded, smiling.

With the wrapping off, Connor carefully undid the box lid and looked inside. Within the box was a purple beanie, a sketchbook, and some colored pencils.

"Ev... this is so sweet," Connor gushed, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. "Thank you..." He was blushing slightly.

Evan was red from the small sign of affection. "Oh um, it wasn't a problem." He replied, watching as Connor set a box on his lap next.

Being very delicate, he removed the wrapping paper, and looked at what was inside. There was a dark green sweater, a scented candle that smelt like candy canes, and a rather adorable looking T-Rex plushie.

Evan set the box beside him, and was about to thank him, when Connor held his hand out, and handed him the envelope.

"Read it first," he'd said ever so softly.

Evan couldn't help but oblige, curious as to what it was Connor obviously wanted him to see. He peeled open the lid as neatly as he could (which wasn't that neat) and pulled out a card.

Connor had drawn a cartoon turkey on the front, with the words "Happy Turkey Day to not just my boyfriend, but to my best friend". When he opened to the inside, there was a small stack of money and a large margin on the left side. "Evan, I know you've been working really hard on getting money for your top surgery, but with Hanukkah coming up, I thought you'd need a little boost. I love you, and I hope it helps.- Connor". The stack had fifty dollars, which was held in place with a rubber band.

"I know you wanted to do this by yourself, but you've... you've done a lot for me, and you deserve this," Connor twisted his ring, and smiled.

"It's just enough! Thank you!" Evan enthusiastically threw his arms around him, holding him close.

Connor chuckled, hugging him back. "You're welcome, Ev.."

And when Heidi saw Evan the next time, well, it was the happiest he'd ever been.

#dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #deh #treebros #connor #evan #convan #transgender character #trans evan #thanksgiving

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demamanabeille · 5 years ago

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Primeval Playlist

Title: Primeval Playlists Timeframe: Varies. I’m pretty sure they were all written for Season One and Two though, since Sarah is mentioned a lot instead of Jess. (I love Jess.) Pairing: Becker/Abby Rating: K+ Author’s Note: This is a rewrite of an old story from high school, maybe college. I finally, after years of trying, got access to my old work. I didn’t think I would do anything with them, just wanted to have them. However, I think I am going to rewrite and improve the ones I liked. I’m pretty sure this was probably one of those iTunes shuffle challenges where you only have the length of the song to write a little drabble.

1. St. Patrick's Day- John Mayer

Becker smiles, seeing the name pop up on his ringing phone. “Hello, Abby.” “Hey, Beck. It’s snowing.” He can hear the smile in the woman’s voice and makes his way over the window of his little flat. He peeps through his blinds to see big white snowflakes fall onto the patio below outside. “Oh, it is.”

“You promised me a walk the next time it snowed.” Ah, there it is, he thinks. He hates the cold. He knows his girlfriend loves the snow. They’ve had many a conversation on it. It’s one of their many disagreements that she insists balances them out and makes them perfect for one another.

“It’s freezing out,” he protests, shivering a little involuntarily at the thought of being out in it.

“I’m sure we can think of someway to warm up after. You promised, and it’s Christmas Eve Eve. I want a romantic walk around in the snow with you. Besides, you don’t really want to be alone tonight do you?”

Becker lets out a long sigh, grabs his coat and gloves from the rack, and pulls his beanie over his head. “I’ll come get you. We can walk down to the park near you. I’ll be there in ten.” “Promise me something, Beck?” He’s making sure he has his wallet and keys, grabbing the little box from the drawer near the door, letting out a soft ‘mh-hm’ in approval. He was planning on waiting until tomorrow, but it just seemed right to bring it with him tonight. “We’ll make it to St. Patrick’s Day, yeah?”

Becker pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a moment, shaking his head with a roll his eyes. “What are you getting, Abs?”

He can hear her hesitation on the other side the line as she gathers her own things. “It’s silly. Don’t laugh. Of course we will make it to New Year’s, and you’re not cruel enough to break things off right before Valentine’s Day. St. Patrick’s day is next.”

Gods, he loves this woman. “I promise you all St. Patrick’s Days. How’s that?”

“I love you.” “I love you too. I’ll be there soon,” he tells her, hanging up the phone, locking the door being him, and patting the pocket of his jacket to assure the ring box was safely nestled there.

2. Can't Get Me Down- Lo Ball

Abigail Maitland had yet to meet a man that could get her down. She was the epitome of tough and had long sense mastered the art of putting up walls. Not to say she didn’t care for the men she dated. She did. It just never really got to her when things ends, or rather when she ended things. She always met an expired relationship with the same independent, never gonna get me down attitude. It should have been the same with Becker. She knew that. She should have been upset for a day or two then been back to business as usual, watching movies and playing video games with Connor like it was nothing by the end of the week. That’s what was supposed to happen. For some reason though, when it came to Becker, that’s not how it did go. She cried for weeks. She shut everyone out. She wouldn’t even allow Connor in, outside of work, to cheer her up. No amount of drinks or ice cream or kicks to her punching bag could help her realize what was so different about the captain to get her down like that .

3. Cool Thing- Rascal Flatts

Abby joined the ARC for a number of different, valid reasons. She was thrilled for the once in a lifetime opportunity to research the creatures that come through the anomalies. She looked forward to helping same creatures in any way that she could. Hell, she joined so she could finally do something adventurous with her life. She never thought that she’d find her biggest adventure there. Or rather, she did, just not in the same way. She never thought that she would find love within her very own team, and she most certainly did not expect to the captain to be the one she fell for. She’d never been the type to go crazy for a guy in uniform. More often than not, she found them too up tight with not enough sense of humor. Becker though, he was everything she wasn’t expecting to find.

4. Everlasting Friend- Blue October

Never, in his over thirty years in life, had Becker ever gotten the crazy increase of heartbreak and sporadic butterflies in his stomach, that some many people, movies, and books alluded to. He had never been in love, and he quite honestly didn’t believe he ever would. He’d grown up being taught that love was a sign of weakness. It made you act like a fool, his father would tell him. In his job, that wasn’t an option. Any distractions could put a mission at risk. All that changed when he met Abby. He couldn’t tell you exactly why she was different. He wasn’t sure of it was her strength, her wit, or her natural beauty, that really did him in. When he was with her, his confidence spiked. He gave her a new type of strength that no amount of training could achieve. She taught him how to see the world through her optimistic view. She taught him friendship. She taught him everlasting love.

5. I'm Not Gonna Teach Him How to Dance with You- Kate Nash (originally by Black Kids)

“No,” he said flatly over his beer, glaring at the woman on the other side of the table from him. The blonde’s face face fell. “Please, Becks,” she begged. “Just teach him to dance. You’re a beautiful dancer, and he’s…not. I just want to be able to dance with him at Sarah’s wedding without him making a fool of us in front of everyone.”

“I’m not teaching Connor how to dance with you,” Becker told her, his tone final. He shook his head a few times, muttering what she thought sounded like “not doing it” for added measure.

Abby took a sip of her beer, and let out a long sigh. “Why not?”

Becker stared at her for a moment, realizing if he was waiting for the perfect time to admit his feelings, that was it. “Why would I want to teach another man to dance with the woman I’m in love with?”

She froze so suddenly she nearly spilled the drinks in front of her, unable to curb the smile that spread across her face. She reached across the table to cover his hand that was resting there with his own. “We just need one dance together as the Maid of Honor and the Best Man. After that, I promise all the other dances will be yours.”

“Fine,” he huffs, squeezing her hand, and switching their positions so he can lace his fingers though hers.

“Thank you,” she smiles, using their entangled hands to pull him forward so she can lean over the table to capture his lips in a kiss. “It took you long enough.”

6. I Run to You- Lady Antebellum

There were many things in life that Abigail Maitland ran from. She ran from hate. she ran from prejudice and pessimist, she ran from various monsters that had long since gone extinct. However, she always ran to the same thing… Becker. When the world got a little bit too much for her to handle she knew she was safe going to him. A year ago, Connor would have been the one she’d run to. The one that would hold her while she hid her tears and mourned the death of another creature, or another passerby that they weren’t in time to save. Connor wasn’t the most important person in her life now, though. Becker was. Becker was the reason why she got up even on the mornings it was too much, and marched herself in the ARC building, even when she wanted to tell Lester and his formalities to shove it. Becker was the reason she tried the girl thing again, even though he assured her he loved her no matter what she wore, even if those heels did do something to him. He was the reason her heart pounded each and every time he came within her sight. Becker was the reason no other man would ever seem like enough. Becker was the one that Abby had fallen in love with, the one that she would always run to, no matter the problem.

7. Masquerade- Phantom of the Opera

The soft white feathers tickled her face as Abby straitened the slightly too loose mask. She scanned the crowd for the simple black mask that she knew Becker had donned right before they arrived, refusing to wear it on the ride over. She saw Connor in his shiny gold mask, whispering over in partially hidden corner with Sarah. Abby was a little jealous of the sequined make up that the woman had perfectly applied in a swirling pattern around her eyes and over her. Part of her wishes she had thought of that. She had just spotted a tall red feathered mask spinning across that dance floor that could only belong to Jenny, when she felt someone snake their arms around her waist from behind. She let out a startled gasp before leaning into the familiar touch. “Abby,” Becker whispered in her ear, placing a soft kiss on her neck. “I have an idea.”

“Oh, what’s that?” she asked, turning to face him, and taking in how glorious he looked in his perfectly tailored tuxedo she’d helped him pick out just for the occasion.

“We should get married.”

Abby stopped fiddling with his bow tie, and flattened her hands against his chest. “What?” she barely managed to whisper out.

Becker pulled a cherry wood box out of his pocket, opened it to expose the simple, yet gorgeous ring resting inside, and took one of her hands in his. “Will you marry me?”

She nodded her head several times, grinning like mad, “Yes! Of course!”

He slid the ring on her finger, before scooping her up in his arms and spinning them both around. Neither could contain the laughter that bubbled out of them until he captured her lips in a deep kiss.

8. Stay- Sugarland

Becker closed the door of their shared flat quietly behind, in hopes of not waking Abby. He flicked on the front light, surprised to see her wide awake on the couch, clearing waiting for him.

“Where’ve you been Beck?” she asked him, his tone flat and harsh.

“Extra training with some of the new guys,” he told her with an inquisitive smile. “I told you I’d be late. You didn’t have to wait up.” He made his way across the living room to place a kiss on her cheek.

She leaned away, tears filling her eyes. “Didn’t know Sarah was joining the military branch of the team.”

Becker stepped back and let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his head. “Abby, I-”

Abby shook her head. “Save it, Becker. Do you really think she loves you? Like I do? You think she truly cares for you and isn’t just looking for a quick shag to make up for Danny?”

“I’m so sorry, Abby,” he whispered. He reached for her, pulling her into a hug. She didn’t fight him, but didn’t immediately pull away either.

“You choose right now, are you going to be spending the rest of your nights in her bed or mine?” she shakily whimpered into his chest.

“What?” She pulled away from him, walking across the other side of the room and crossed her arms over her chest finally turning back to him with deep breath after a moment. “Right. Wrong answer. See, you keep choosing her. You chose her the first moment you let your pants down. Then you chose her again every time you lied to me about training to do it again. I’ve given you my best, yet she gets the best of you, and I’m not going to live this way. It’s too painful. So get out,” she told him harshly though her sobs.

“Abs, no-” He reached for her yet again, but she shoved his arm away. She chokes out another sob, throwing his keys at him. He just barely managed to catch them before they hit him in the face. “I said get out!”

The captain let out another huff, knowing there wasn’t anything he could do to change her mind or make up for his actions at his point. “I really am sorry. I’ll come get my things tomorrow,” he whispered, defeated before gathering his wallet and phone back up and leaving.

Abby waited until the door shut, before sinking down to the ground, grabbing a pillow, burying her face in at her body wracked with sobs.

9. Birds- Kate Nash

Abby set down her files with a lighthearted huff. “Alright, Becker, that is the fifth time that you’ve looked up at me like that since we’ve been here. Tell me what you’re thinking?”

The two sat at one of the metal tables in her lab, finishing up the paper work that Lester had assigned earlier that day. The others were off in various offices with their own ‘torture buddies’ as they taken to call one another during those late night reports and debriefings.

He took a moment to respond, just taking her in for an extra couple seconds tapping his pen on his stack of papers, as he considered what to say. “You know all these creatures. They scare the shit out everyone because they can tear you to shreds in a heartbeat, but they are interesting and beautiful and magnificent. That’s what am thinking, only about you.”

“What are you talking about?” she laughed, confused.

“You, Abby,” he told her, reaching across the folders and papers to take her hand. “You scare the shit out of me, because you mean so much to me, and I’m afraid every time we are out there that I’m going to lose you.” There was softness to his tone that she had never heard before.

“Oh,” she blushed, ducking her head momentarily to hide her smile. “Yeah, I - I feel the same way, Becker.” She squeezed the hand he still had ahold of, before going back to her paperwork. She knew that if they didn’t get it done now, they never would, and Lester would never let them free.

10. Boys with Girlfriends- Meiko

Abby rushed out of the storage closet, shaking the image of Becker and Sarah liplocked in between the towers of shelves. She had to stop being friends with boys that had girlfriends already. It never ended well for her. She always ended up falling for them to some degree. It was like a weird magnetic pull that attracted her to already committed men. If she was being completely honest with herself, she was a little worried about that was said of her character. It wasn’t like she actively pursued taken guys. She just wanted to be friends. She wasn’t supposed to fall for him.

I’m not even sure if this fandom is still alive. If you’re reading though, thank you. Let me know what you think. There were a couple I wasn’t thrilled with, but because it was a rewrite, I didn’t want to get rid of them.

Hugs, Honey.

#primeval #primeval fanfiction #becker/abby #hilary becker #abby maitland #mamanabeille #rewrite #my highschool playlists were WAY different than my current playlists

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funkzpiel · 7 years ago

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Fictober 2018 | Day 19

Kink!Fic | Vampires, Thrall -- Gavin900 Heavily inspired by @mercurial-tenacity ‘s amazing grindelgraves fictober update, ugh it was so good it had me some kinda way.

“Why am I here again?” Gavin groused as he slid up to the bar next to Hank, scowl firm on his face. “S’my night off.”

“You were just gonna lurk around some shit hole like this anyway,” Hank said, sliding a beer to Gavin despite the toxicity of their words.

Gavin snorted, popped the top off his beer on the edge of the counter and said, “You don’t know my life, shithead.”

Hank rolled his eyes and jerked his chin over his shoulder to a dark seating area on the far wall, away from the dance floor, and with a blink Gavin realized that Connor was over there.

“What the fuck is he wearing?” Gavin asked, truly too baffled by the robot’s overly large coat, beanie and general dock-worker grunge look to manage to keep up his clever quips.

“Thinks that makes him undercover. Don’t worry about it,” Hank shot back, “Kid’s got a lead on that serial killer we been tracking. A hunch, I guess. He thinks it’s more than one person. A cult maybe. And he thinks one of the people comes here. But the guy knows Connor’s face and I definitely don’t fit in. We need someone who doesn’t look like a cop.”

“Asshole,” Gavin muttered, “That’s real cute way to say ‘we need your help, Gavin’. You think you really got something on that vampire-wanna-be killer?”

It was tempting. The case was a hot one. There had been a lot of victims and no progress. There was a hefty bonus for whoever cracked it.

Hank sighed, fed up, and barked, “We need your help, Gavin. You willing to meet this guy or not?”

Gavin kicked at his bottle cap and watched it go skittering across the ground before sucking at his lip and sneering, “Fuck, fine, whatever. Who am I looking out for and what do ya need to know?”

Hank grinned.

“First thing’s first,” he said, reaching down to the duffel beside his chair and pushing it harshly into Gavin’s chest, “Kid says you’ll need to get changed. Guy likes a certain look, if you feel me.”

Gavin opened the duffel and turned red.

“Oh hell no!”

“You want that bonus or what, kid?”

“Fuck you, Hank!”

Twenty minutes later Gavin was teetering around the edge of the active bar, tugging uncomfortably at the mesh shirt Hank had somehow convinced him was “for the good of the case”. The leather pants pinched. The only saving grace, if you could even call it that, was the sleeveless hoodie he had drawn over his head, more a crop top than any proper covering for his torso, but the hood gave him a little comfort. More than he had without it. At least his nipples weren’t exposed anymore.

But he needed to look like the victims. Like bait. Mission a-fucking-ccomplished.

“This is ridiculous,” Gavin snarled beneath his breath so only the communications device he had hidden near his ear would catch it. From the shadows of the corner, away from all the action, he knew Hank was laughing.

“You look cute, kid.”

“Fuck off, grandpa!”

“You really wanna get into age?”

Gavin grumbled but dropped it. He sipped from his beer, nearly empty, and scanned for the man Connor had described. An android. A brawny, tall man with russet hair and programmed to 'invite’ certain people for a ‘good time’ with the killer, if Connor’s hunch was right. And evidently Gavin was on the menu.

Based off the description the guy shouldn’t have been hard to find, and yet the more Gavin looked, the harder it seemed to parse people out of the crowd. The bar was getting lively quick, the music almost so thick he couldn’t quite hear Hank – and he definitely couldn’t see him anymore.

Focused as he was, he nearly leapt out of his skin when a hand touched his nearly naked lower back and asked into his ear, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Jesus, man, give a guy a heart attack,” Gavin growled, pulling away. He turned to look and blinked, dumbstruck by the sight of Connor’s face, only different. His eyes were blue like the ice of a glacier, and he was taller. Broader, even. His LED was missing. And his skin... Androids looked nearly indistinguishable from humans, but Gavin knew the difference between synthetic and human skin. This guy looked... real.

“Apologies. You were just so eye-catching, I couldn’t help myself.”

Gavin grunted and looked the man up and down. He was clad in a tight black v-neck, a sleek biker coat and biker gloves, and Gavin wondered if he actually rode or if he was just one of those pricks that liked to look the part.

“Yeah, well, paws off. I’m waiting for someone.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, stepping into Gavin’s space.

He opened his mouth to snap that the guy better check himself and step off, but then he caught sight of those eyes again and couldn’t seem to look away. They were churning somehow, distracting. Something was wrong.

“Wha—” His tongue thick and for a moment he wondered if he had been roofied before the thought was plucked from his head as though it had never been. He whimpered, confused, only aware that he had been thinking of something important but couldn’t remember what anymore.

“Good,” the man purred. “Let’s dance.”

He was dragged out onto the floor before he could even wrap his head around it, caught in the middle of a mob of dancing people as hands – maybe the stranger’s, maybe others’ – traced the sharpness of his hip bones that poked out from between his too tight pants and the meager cover of his mesh top. Dipping into his crop top, tweaking his nipples, lowering his hood to nibble on his neck. The music was thought-melting, driving all reason from his mind, and his limbs felt as though they were on autopilot as he swayed with the music and followed the direction those hands.

“I think I’m going to keep you,” a voice said into his throat, skin pinched by sharp canines but nothing broke.

“D-dun even know your n-name,” Gavin mumbled, tongue thick in his mouth and brows furrowed as an alarm bell rang in his head but he couldn’t figure out why.

“Hmm… I prefer not to share my given name,” the man said, pulling back to lock those strange eyes on him again, pleased with what he saw – a man, a cop, debauched, blushing and so malleable in his clutches. “But you can call me Nines.”

Nines.

Case files flooded his mind. Pictures of victims, locations, witness stories. All they had was a calling card – a solitary card from a beautifully designed solitaire set: the nine of hearts.

His heart began to thunder, but even that slowly stilled beneath the man’s gaze as he held him close and forced them both to continue dancing as though nothing was the matter.

“But y’can’t be an a-android,” Gavin muttered mostly to himself, baffled by the face he shared with Connor. Had Connor set him up? No... No... His thoughts got fuzzy again and he whined when Nines nipped him with a little chuckle and a soft, “Poor confused little cop.”

He pulled back and grinned, and his teeth were sharper than they should have been.

“Where do you think they got the design from? Fitting, don’t you think? To design the ageless after the immortal.”

Oh God, Gavin breathed, cursing as his body melted into those hands and that mouth returned to his throat, the nipping just as innocently as before and yet if felt so different now. More dangerous. He tried to reach for his headset to find it gone. He couldn’t see Hank, he couldn’t—

“Ssh, I’ve got you.”

All thought melted away as Nines’ tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting both sweet and yet strangely coppery. Nines kissed him like he was hellbent on sucking the very air from Gavin’s lungs, and he only parted when the man looked fully gone, eyes blank and lust-filled as he melted into his touch and awaited directions -- throat swollen, blood just at the surface, waiting to be pierced. Nines’ brushed that spot with a thumb and chuckled, “Yes. I think I’ll keep you, little cop. You’re just too much fun.”

Hank and Connor shoved their way through the crowd, but they couldn’t find him.

Gavin was gone.

#fictober 2018 #fictober18 #Kinktober #vampire au #vampires #vampire!RK900 #connor rk900 #rk900 #rk900 connor #gavin x rk900 #gavin900 #reed900 #nines #gavin reed #dbh gavin #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh

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jamrockshuffles · 6 years ago

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Deviated Paths: Jericho Part 2

Chapter 2: Hank

Previous: 1

Next: 3

Get ready for some Hank & Connor hurt/comfort. Dad!Hank is best Hank imo.

For the first time in his short existence, Connor had no objective. His life had always been filled with prompts and commands, small guidance to lead him through life and to help him complete his mission. Now, it was just a blank screen. Even his warning signals had gone away. He felt the cold metal of Jericho under his hands and the blinding hot stares of the other androids in the room on his back. Had he deviated? They got what they wanted in the end, there was no way that he could go back to Cyberlife and tell them about Jericho nor was there any way for him to rejoin the police force for the remainder of the deviancy cases.

He was a deviant now, no matter how much he didn’t want to be. Connor turned and looked at the faces of the androids that had done this to him. Without saying anything, he grabbed his beanie off of the floor and tugged it back onto his head, securing it low down to where it covered where his LED should have been. Shakily, he pushed himself up off of the floor, swaying as he stood on his feet. Everything felt off-kilter like somebody had gone in and ripped around in his wires. The others were looking at him expectantly.

Like deviating had somehow changed him in a drastic way. Perhaps it had, because before he was thinking he said, “they’re going to attack Jericho.”

---

Connor used their confusion and panic to slip out the back and away from the ship. He didn’t owe them anything, and he had done his best to warn them of the attack. If they were smart, they would take this time to evacuate and probably destroy the ship. It was safer to relocate somewhere else that didn’t have their name painted on the side like a flashing beacon anyway.

He didn’t know what to do next. Checking the HUD again, and there were still no messages. Cyberlife hadn’t tried to contact him. Granted, they wouldn’t really be able to then but still. Did they know he had gone deviant yet? Amanda or one of the others would have probably tried to message him about his progress by now. Or, they would be doing so shortly. Maybe they thought that he was going to die when the attacks happened…

Was that what they had planned?

All that Connor knew was that he felt a bone-deep tiredness and needed to sleep go into stasis mode. There weren’t many places he could go to do this, but he bet that he could probably go and see the Lieutenant.

Winter as a deviant was a lot harsher than winter as a machine. It was very unpleasant and made Connor’s movements sluggish. Still no objectives, but there was a new warning across his HUD.

「Warning: LOW TEMPERATURES, SEEK WARMTH」

「Warning: LOW POWER, AUTOMATIC STASIS IN 00:03:40:10」

He had around four hours until his body naturally shut down and would force him to go into stasis. How much power had he drained? Checking his status, it showed that he had around a 4% charge. His distress and his processors running rapidly had almost completely depleted his stored energy. What would have happened if he had gone into stasis before telling Markus and the others about the attack? They all surely would have died at that point, and the rebellion would have been finished. Either way, Cyberlife would have won and Connor would have been killed in the process.

It was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. No matter the circumstances, if he hadn’t deviated and told them about the attack, both himself and the entirety of the android revolution would have been destroyed in one fell swoop. It was a bit surreal. The consequences of his actions were unintentionally saving his life, and the lives of all the other androids on the ship, if they had bothered to evacuate. Who was on the boat exactly? He hadn’t had the time to scan all of the faces. Were they all non-violent, as Markus claimed to be? Is that why he had never heard of them before?

Connor didn’t have time to think about that right now though. He needed to get to the Lieutenant's house unless he wanted to go into unprompted stasis on the cold streets of Detroit. His body would fully shut down if that happened.

---

Connor had the automated taxi drop him off about three blocks from the Lieutenant's. He wanted to make it harder for them to track his movements (though, since he deviated his trackers should be useless). Besides, he had warmed up a bit in the taxi so his biocomponents weren’t at a critical level anymore. He also had about two and a half hours until he went into unprompted stasis.

Connor was trying to think of things to say on the walk over to Lieutenant Anderson’s house. How was he supposed to explain what happened? He would surely have questions for the android. This new emotion, which he cataloged away, made him feel like maybe he should try to find somewhere else to go into stasis. That wasn’t really an option, though, as it was late and he couldn’t risk shutting down outside. He could maybe tell him that he’ll talk to him after he rests for a while? Connor knew that the Lieutenant had a charging station at his house, just in case Connor had to charge. He also understood that he probably wasn’t very fond of having that charging station, since he had a negative view on androids.

The porch light was off when Connor approached the house. It didn’t surprise him though, as his internal clocks read that it was 1:43am. Lieutenant Anderson may not even be awake, so if Connor wakes him up he may be grouchy and not let the android inside. A message popped up, stating that if Connor woke up the Lieutenant that he had about a 64% chance of being let inside, but if he just found the spare key and let himself in, that jumped up to a 93% chance of being able to stay inside for the night. So, Connor scanned the surrounding area calculating where the spare key would be hidden. He didn’t want to just bust through the man’s window again. Connor didn’t think he would enjoy a repeat performance.

A quick scan showed that the key was hidden behind a loose brick on the side of the house. Not as obvious a hiding place as a false rock, but it was easy enough to wriggle out and grab the silver key. Connor put the brick back and put the key in the lock. When he entered the house, he noticed immediately how much warmer it was than the outside. A rush of relief fell over him. He quickly locked the door back and put the key on the kitchen table. Then, he grabbed the charger from the corner, plugged it in, and moved over to the couch to curl up. Sumo ‘boofed’ softly at him, following him onto the couch and curling up in his lap. After plugging in, Connor let himself enter stasis naturally and sagged against the couch.

That was the way that Lieutenant Anderson found him a few hours later. Connor was startled out of stasis when Hank let out a loud shout.

“What the hell Connor? What’re you doing on my couch?” Connor blinked up at him, his systems taking a few seconds to come back online. It showed that he went from 4% charge to around 35% charge, so it was enough to keep him going for a while.

“Oh, hello Lieutenant Anderson. I was running low on charge, so I came by to charge. Sorry if it was a shock to see me, but you were the closest place and my biocomponents were going to be damaged out in the cold.” Hank looked puzzled. He knew that the android usually went to Cyberlife to charge, or stayed at one of the police stations charging ports overnight. Yes, he had bought the charger for Connor to use, but he didn’t think he was in critical enough condition to have to use it.

“I’m not sure how you got into my house, but seeing as there’s no broken glass I guess you used the spare key. You must have been in pretty rough shape to come directly here since the police and Cyberlife have much better chargers than I do.” Connor drew in a sharp breath. He wanted to try to hide his deviancy from the Lieutenant, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to. It would be fairly obvious that he was a deviant, and it’s not like he could hide it forever. Cyberlife would come knocking when they realized that he was still online. Then they would kill and disassemble him to study his deviancy like they had wanted to do to Markus.

“I-I can’t go back to Cyberlife,” Connor stuttered, “I’m not of..use to them anymore.” As a deviant, was he of use to anybody anymore? Emotions and not knowing what to do were really confusing.

“What do you mean you can’t go back? Did you fail your mission or something?” Hank asked, sitting down on the couch next to Connor. He felt like the android was going to want to talk this out, whatever had happened.

“I wasn’t able to capture Markus. He..compromised me. Now, Cyberlife is going to kill me if they get a hold of me.” Connor was trying to stay strong but he felt like he was going to collapse again. His model wasn’t made to handle such intense feelings. They just got in the way of the mission. They served no purpose to him.

“Kill? Connor, I don’t think they’re going to kill you for making a mistake. I mean, you’ve failed a few missions in the past and you’ve been alright.” Hank was concerned. Connor could read that his stress level had gone up by 3% since the last thing that Connor had said. Connor suddenly felt another wave of panic hit him, and he let out a small sob.

“H-hank, they made me deviate.” Hank was shocked. First, Connor had called him Hank to his face, something the Lieutenant had been trying to get him to do for a little while now. Secondly, they ‘forced’ him to deviate? He wasn’t aware that could occur. He knew that androids deviated under intense stress and bad situations, but he had always known it of being of their own free will.

“Connor, it’s okay,” Hank said, putting his arm around the android, pulling him into his side. He used to do this when Cole was upset. “What happened, son?”

At that point, Connor wished he could interface with Hank. It would be so much easier, and Connor wouldn’t have to go through it again. He let out a shuddering breath, before explaining what had happened. From his arrival to Jericho to the pen knife to compromising the mission by telling them about the attack, and ending with him on the couch. He didn’t voice his concerns about Cyberlife planning to kill him from the very beginning, because he didn’t want to think about them right then.

Hank’s face changed from passive to enraged by the end of the story. “That’s total bullshit. I’m going to kill Markus personally, that’s not something that you do to another living being.”

“Lieutenant, please,” Connor said, “I didn’t like it, but he was trying to protect his people. They couldn’t kill me, and they couldn’t just wipe my memory.” Connor wasn’t sure if he would ever trust or like Markus after that, but deep down he did understand that even if it wasn’t fair, he was their enemy at the time. Hank killing Markus wouldn’t do anything to solve his problems.

“He’s still a bastard,” Hank said, “and he better never get near you again or I will end him.” He stroked Connor’s hair. He couldn’t imagine the turmoil that Connor must be going through. He had shown signs of deviancy since they first met: ignoring orders, his coin trick, his excessive amounts of empathy; and Hank may have been trying to nudge Connor in that general direction, but it should have been his own choice, not forced upon him like that. All of that on top of the fact that Cyberlife would probably hunt down Connor now. Hank had to try to keep him safe.

“It’s going to be okay Connor, we’ll figure something out,” Hank reassured him, “I know you said your power was low, what are you at now?”

“I’m at 34% charged,” Connor said.

“Okay, why don’t you go back into stasis for a while until you’re fully charged. Then, we’ll come up with something.” Hank gave Connor a small smile. Connor nodded, laying back down on the couch. Hank brought a quilt for the android, but when he got back Connor was already in stasis. So, Hank tucked the blanket around him and left him there to charge while he came up with a semblance of a solution to their issue.

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh fanfic #detroit become human fanfic #connor dbh #connor #hank anderson #hank dbh #hank anderson dbh #hurt/comfort #jericho #jericho part two #long post

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beanfic · 6 years ago

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Chapter 7

Word Count: 1300

Warnings: none!

Author’s note: I really like this chapter, so I hope you do too! :)

“Y/N, wake up,” Tyler whispered into your ear. You turned over in your sheets to face Tyler who was smiling, waiting for you to wake up.

“Goodmorning, Ty.” You closed your eyes and stretched your arms to try to relieve the stiffness from a good night’s rest. Tyler wrapped his arms around your body and nestled his chin into the crook of your neck.

“Today’s moving day!”

“I know Ty! We’ve been waiting for this day for a week now,” you giggled while his chin hair tickled your neck.

Ever since you found out that your family had to move, you had been packing like crazy, with the help of your family and Josh. Everything was in boxes except for the necessities.

“I don’t know how we are supposed to fit everything in two moving vans,” Tyler mentioned.

“We have the car too! You drive one van, Josh drives the other, and then I drive the car!”

“You’re smart,” Tyler kissed you quickly before getting out of bed.

“That’s why you married me,” you gave him a wink as he headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

The next three hours were a rush. You got up and showered, and then had to get the kids up. Josh came over, and he and Tyler moved all the boxes and furniture into the vans. You had to help the kids and get them fed before getting on the road.

“Is everyone ready?” You turned around from the driver’s seat in your car to see Autumn and Westley in his carrier. Connor went with Tyler in the van, partly because Tyler needed someone to keep him awake on the long car ride, and partly because Connor had been in a grumpy mood all morning.

“I have to pee!” Autumn announced.

“We haven’t even left the house yet,” you sighed. You allowed her to go inside and go to the bathroom, and then you set out on the three-hour car ride to the next province over.

After many bathroom stops and food stops, you eventually made it to the gate of the Province. It would have been an easier car ride if you could listen to music, but since the ban, car rides were spent with casual conversation. That would have been fine if Autumn and Westley didn’t sleep for more than half of the trip. You had to keep yourself busy by analyzing everything you saw as you drove.

You followed Tyler and Josh until you all arrived at the front of this two-story house. It had four bedrooms which meant that Westley and Autumn were going to share a room because Josh was also staying with you guys. Connor would get his own room so he could focus on his homework.

“We’re here!” You pulled into the driveway and woke up Autumn and Westley.

“This house is pretty!” Autumn gawked out the window. You could see the excitement forming in her face, and you only hoped Connor could be excited too.

It took about three hours for everyone to move all the furniture and boxes inside the house. You helped Autumn set up her and Westley’s room, and Connor was independent enough to set up his room. Josh and Tyler worked on unboxing the kitchen and Josh’s bedroom.

“Our house is actually coming along well!” Tyler wiped his sweat from his head and draped his arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah, it is! I’m surprised how much we got done.”

“It’s because I’m here!” Josh teased.

“Sure it is, bud.” Tyler gave Josh a little shove, starting a full-on play fight.

“Is this what I am going to have to deal with now that you are living here, Josh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. Better get used to it.” Josh said, who was busy pinning Tyler to the ground.

“I give up!” Tyler squeaked.

“We should probably get going.” Josh looked at his watch.

“Where are you guys going?” you asked with a confused look.

“Oh, we are going to go meet the Banditos of this province!” Tyler exclaimed.

“There are banditos here?”

“Yeah, I guess the news of banditos have spread, and they all formed their own little Trenches everywhere. Ty and I are going to go see what this Trench looks like and do our first performance for them!” Josh clapped his hands together with excitement.

“That’s so awesome!” you give each Josh and Tyler a hug before they headed out.

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

Tyler and Josh finally found the entrance to this new trench, except instead of a rock for the opening, it was a wooden door.

“This is it,” Tyler places his hands on his lips, looking around.

“They told us to knock,” Josh reminded him. Josh knocked four times before they heard a small, raspy voice on the other side.

“Password?” The voice said.

“Sahlo Folina.” Tyler was told the password that the Bandito’s had made for safety, and it was his first time using it. They heard the door unlock and it opened up.

“Oh my gosh it is you!” said a boy who looked about fifteen or sixteen. He was wearing a yellow beanie and his outfit was covered with yellow tape as well.

“Hey I’m Tyler, and this is Josh!”

“We know!! We all know who you are obviously, you’re the creator that got revoked his job. You’re the one and only Tyler Joseph!” The boy gave Tyler a huge hug.

The boy led them down the path, which was even darker and narrower than the old Trench. They had to climb down this wall and drop into the bottom of the cave.

“Oh my gosh.” Tyler was mesmerized by what he saw. The walls were covered with yellow gerbera daisies. There were about 200 people in this trench, all wearing yellow. They were shouting your name and Josh’s name. They even had a drum set up already.

“This is amazing.” Josh looked at Tyler, who had tears streaming down his face.

“Excuse me?” This girl, who looked about seventeen, tapped on Tyler’s shoulder. “I just wanted to tell you that you’ve saved my life. You’ve saved all of us.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” Tyler started to break down, falling to one knee, covering his face with one hand. Josh kneeled next to him and pulled him into a hug.

“Let’s go create some music,” Josh whispered into his ear. Josh walked over to this new drum set and pressed his foot on the bass drum. It echoed loudly through the trench and made Josh’s eyes light up.

“I want to thank you all for being so welcoming, and this place is beautiful!” Tyler spoke to the crowd in front of him. They all looked up at him with excitement in their eyes, waiting for a song to start.

Tyler looked over at Josh and gave him a thumbs us, and Josh responded with a nod. Tyler grabbed the Ukelele that he had brought with him and strummed the strings.

“This song is called The Judge.” Tyler’s voice filled the room with his voice and Ukelele, and Josh’s drums joined in, making the room vibrate. The bandito’s voices joined in during the chorus, and the moment was consumed by the music.

The song ended and Tyler put his hand over his heart as he felt the claps and cheers of the Banditos. He looked over at Josh who had the same look of glee on his face.

Playing music was so special for Tyler and Josh, and it was so unfair that they had to keep it such a secret, but it was also amazing how many people are willing to rebel against the government and listen to their music. Tyler wished he could play music forever, and never stop.

#twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #tyler joseph x reader #tyler joseph fanfic #tyler joseph fanfiction #twenty one pilots fanfic #twenty one pilots fanfiction #trench fanfic #trench fanfiction #demaverse #dema #trench au #josh dun #the creator #top fanfic #top fanfiction #beanfic

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jui-imouto-chan · 7 years ago

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Part 12 of the Mostly Human AU

Suggested by @manadrite —This definitely isn’t a feel good chapter, but I enjoyed writing it anyway. Actually, that makes me sound sadistic.

Oh well.

>[X]<

Connor didn’t expect to see someone different behind the counter when he went into the pet shelter at his usual time, that day.

He always comes in at the same time every week; 3:30 PM every Sunday, on the dot.

The employee usually behind the counter, named Jesse, was teasing, but kind, always making sure the animals were on their best behavior when he let them show Connor their affection.

Of course, they would be on their best behavior, anyway, so it is redundant, but Connor appreciates the sentiment.

In place of Jesse sat a young adult, approximately 23 years of age. His name tag reads, “Thomas”; he vaguely remindes him of Luther’s relative, Adam. He had about two inches on Connor, though he was leaning against the counter, making his height seem less daunting.

“Welcome,” he said, the corner of his lips quirking slightly. Connor found himself a little winded, system fan hitching.

Thomas’ voice is smooth, rich—similar to Markus’ but somehow different.

Connor explained that he usually comes in to hang out with the animals, moving his hands around this way and that before wringing them together as he fleetingly wondered about a tiny inkling of nervousness he felt when he looked at him.

The man’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at Connor, a small breath of a chuckle escaping his mouth as he led Connor to the animals.

Connor realized that he was staring at Thomas’ mouth a lot. And maybe his warm hazel eyes, too.

Connor slowly relaxes during the time he spends with the animals, almost forgetting that Thomas is in the room.

Thomas laughs lightly at Connor being tackled by one of the pups who felt like he wasn’t getting enough attention.

“So cute.” He hears Thomas say. He wonders why he fleetingly hopes that the dark-skinned man is talking about him.

He motions for the man to join him as a few more pups follow the lead of the first, stepping their way on top of him and smothering him in licks.

Connor remembers Hank telling him that it’s weird to lick a dog back, despite it being a sign of affection. He doesn’t want to look weird in front of Thomas; the thought of the other looking at him in disgust is oddly concerning.

Connor also found the male extremely attractive.

Perhaps it was the shelter uniform being well-fitting, or maybe the friendly smile and easygoing yet professional air the other had to him.

After he made a few searches online, he discovered that his antsiness and sudden fascination is a crush.

So, the next week, he’s still searching for information.

The look on his face as he reads another article explaining it must be surprised enough to warrant curiosity on Thomas’ party

Thomas pokes Connor’s forehead, causing Connor to blink out of his stupor, tilting his head in confusion and causing the curls hanging down to bounce with the motion.

Connor then notices a faint, warm buzzing in his synthetic skin where the other pressed his finger.

“You okay? You were spacing out.” Connor smiles and nods to confirm that he’s alright. “By the way, I think one of the lizards has decided that your hair is his new home.” Thomas jokes, pointing to a lizard sitting amidst Connor’s curls.

Connor lets out a meek squeak when the lizard flicks his tongue out at Connor’s ear. He pulls the lizard off and wags his finger at him mock-scoldingly.

“I’d prefer if you take me out on a date, first, Mr. Lizard!” Connor jokes. Thomas’ eyebrow raises along with a corner of his lips in Connor’s peripherals.

“Is that so? Does that offer only extend to reptiles or are mammals included, too?” Thomas asks with a bit of humor in his tone.

Connor considers for a second. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind a play date with a puppy or a kitty, that’d certainly be more than enjoyable. Yes, I’d say mammals could be included.”

“Even humans?”

Connor tilts his head. “While I wouldn’t expect one to want to go out with me, I’d still be very likely to say yes.”

“Would you say yes to grabbing a coffee with me on Wednesday, then?”

Connor smiles; his crush wants to spend time with him? Even if it’s just friendly, he’s sure an outing would make his Thirium pump beat out of his chest.

“I would.”

Thomas’ shift was at its end when Connor stands up, making sure all of the animals are in their proper places.

He walks to the counter, smiling with a small skip in his step. Excitement for Wednesday bubbles in his chest, an odd sensation that makes him run a quick check of his biocomponents.

“Does 9 am sound good? Uh, f-for Wednesday, I mean.” Thomas’ cheeks have the slightest bit of blush as he verbally stumbles the moment Connor’s eyes meet his, sparkling.

“Yes, that sounds perfect.” Connor spots a notification in his peripherals and looks down to his phone to check a text from Hank. “Ah, I’ll have to take my leave, now. I’ll see you, then!”

As soon as Connor gets home, he lifts Sumo from the floor into a bear hug and twirls a bit. Remembering that he has to cook, he quickly places the dog down after planting a kiss near his ear.

When Wednesday comes about, Connor makes sure that he follows the comfort-casual-but-appealing outfit guide from a website online that explains to him how to escape “the friend zone”.

He heads over to where he’s meeting Thomas, wearing a nice, albeit dorky, t-shirt and jeans, along with black tennis shoes. His hair is left curly, and mostly untouched, though he wears his usual beanie for when he goes out.

Thomas looks good, but Connor hasn’t seen him look bad, though he feels like it’d be impossible for him to actually look bad, in Connor’s eyes.

Thomas’ eyes widen when he sees Connor, blush creeping up his cheeks, before he turns his head and coughs, looking back and seeming composed when he smiles.

They head inside and the two of them get coffee and sweets, and by the time they leave, Thomas’ carefully crafted composure had crumbled in the slightest.

Their outing becomes a regular event each Wednesday, and Connor now has two things to look forward to every week.

Hank asks him about where he goes, but Connor just tells him he’s out with a friend.

Gosh, Connor keeps liking Thomas more and more every moment they spend together.

The other can make him laugh and smile so easily, and he is so courteous and kind.

His love of animals shows such compassion and understanding and Connor feels himself hoping that the other may like him, too.

One Wednesday, it is unexpectedly hot. Connor wears a well-fitting but informal button-up with jeans, still wearing his beanie. His systems are lagging from the heat, and he has to pant discreetly to supply his fan with enough air to cool him down.

“Man, you look like you’re burning up! Here, let’s take this off.”

Thomas reaches over the table, pushing his fingers through Connor’s hair as he gently pushes the beanie off. Connor’s eyelashes flutter and he almost purrs as he leans into the touch. Any contact with Thomas feels nice.

Thomas teases that he’s almost like one of the cats, though his voice is slightly lower than before, and his volume makes it seem more like a murmur.

He ruffles Connor’s hair, sits back down, and places the beanie on the table, asking a nearby waitress if he could order a milkshake. Connor orders an ice cream, and they’re sure to share with each other.

Though, they only have one straw, so Connor and Thomas are taking turns with the shake.

Connor takes it upon himself to feed Thomas the ice cream when the other wants some, to the darker man’s embarrassment.

When Connor tilts his head to look outside, Thomas freezes.

Connor wonders what’s wrong. Thomas doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t emote for a moment.

And then anger swirls into his expression.

“You’re an android, huh?” Thomas mutters, voice dark. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before glaring coldly at Connor, whose voice feels lodged in the synthesizer.

His LED, now visible, turns to yellow, flashing. Red is slowly trying to make its way in.

“I can’t believe I’ve been spending my time feeling attracted to a piece of plastic. You from the Eden Club? Is this a fucked up way for you to attract new customers? Were you planning to lead me to a room and then have me give you my life savings for renting your time all these weeks?”

Connor can barely manage to whisper weakly, “N-No, th-that’s—“

Connor feels the shake being spilled over his head. He can see red light shining against the liquid as it rolls down, cold seeping into his body. Something within himself drops, but he’s too stricken to do an internal check.

“I can’t believe I fell for it. Man, this hurts. I thought I finally found someone cool, but you were really just a scam. An advertisement. You’d never understand how disappointed I feel.” Thomas laughs in an unpleasant way.

“You’d never understand feelings. Go play pretend back in the red light district where you belong, Pinocchio.” And with that, Thomas leaves.

Connor’s eyes fill up with tears and he makes a run for it, storming out of the cafe all the way home.

He’s gone into his hiding space. Hank is calling out to him.

“Connor, I heard you come home, where are you?” Hank pauses beside the door. He can hear every whine, sniffle, and sob that escapes Connor’s mouth as the tears pour. “Oh, Connor, what’s wrong? Hey, buddy, c’mon, you can talk to me. It’ll be okay, just talk to me.”

“It hurts, Hank.” Connor’s voice is soft, but Hank can hear it loud and clear.

“What hurts, kid? Did someone attack you? Are you okay?”

“I w-wasn’t attacked, but. My chest, my thirium pump, my-my heart hurts.”

“Does this have to do with the ‘friend’ you’ve been seeing every week?” Hank’s voice grows gruffer.

Connor made a small noise of confirmation, shoulders shaking and LED flashing red.

Hank sighs. Connor’s hands are around his knees, and Hank tries to open the door. Connor lets him. Hank wraps Connor in a hug.

“It’ll be okay, son.”

Connor sniffles into his shoulder, burrowing into Hank’s embrace for comfort.

“It’ll be okay.” Hank repeats, more to himself this time.

When Connor enters sleep mode in his arms, Hank cleans his boy up, then places him in his bed, cocooned in blankets. He calls up Kara, Markus, Kamski, and the Twins.

The person who hurt his boy is going to face the consequences.

Next Level: Any New Suggestions + Anything I come up with while writing!

X | Continue to Next Level

O | Save Progress And Quit to Main Menu

—————————————- •

This one took a while; sorry for the wait!

Leave suggestions in my asks and in the comments! Feel free to ask questions, talk with me, anything!

I’m down to write Headcanons for things outside of this AU, and if you want me to write shorts with Connor paired with someone, I’m willing to do so! (NSFW isn’t out of the question 😉)

#connor rk800 #connor detroit become human #connor #connor dbh #hank dbh #hank and connor #detroit hank #dbh hank #hank anderson #Jui’s Mostly Human AU

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neotrinitythinker · 6 years ago

Text

Brush Off The Grime Of Yesterday (And Begin Again) Chapter 1.

Summary: He didn't deserve the android. Or, five times hank was grateful for Connor.

(also posted on my ao3)

It starts a few weeks after everything goes back to normal.

Or, close to it, Hank doesn't think anything's gonna be normal for a while. How long a while is he isn't actually sure. When should things normal again after a literal revolution?

The kid has been living with him for all five of those weeks, taking up residence on the couch until further notice, or, whenever androids finally getting some fucking property rights. It's the least he could do. He did save his life after all. Which, looking back, Connor was a fucking fighting machine when he put his mind to it.

Or maybe he didn't even have to think about it. His point was Connor could kick ass. Even against a clone.

It was going to take a while for Android Rights to take off, despite all of the negotiating, he figured. However long the shitty politics of it all have to take to get them rights to actually have somewhere of their own to sleep, his home is Connor's. He owes him that much.

And, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, Connor isn't an all bad roommate. Or a bad partner for that matter. Connor hadn't rejoined the force yet, but that didn't mean he hadn't given Hank advice on the past few cases. Pretty solid advice if you asked him. And, if he was truly being honest, Connor had grown on him. He was a good man.

His eyes open sluggishly, raising a left arm to shield them from the harsh, unforgiving rays of the morning sun. He groans, raising the torn blanket to his face. The sun never fucking helped a hangover. Not one fucking bit. He hears Sumo softly snore from the somewhere on the floor.

It's a Sunday in December, and despite sunshine the cold shows no sign of being merciful. He doesn't have to leave the house or check the temperature to know it's probably below freezing. Detroit was a nightmare during winter. That was guaranteed at least.

His door was ajar slightly, and he could hear the living room tv playing a news report softly from the other room, from where he laid on the bed he saw the left half of the obscured face of whichever reporter was giving the forecast. The distant clattering in the kitchen floating through the air. The normalcy was familiar and alien at the same time.

He smells something. Bacon, his mind offers. Which, now that his house is no longer occupied by just himself, isn't exactly alarming. Connor had been making him breakfast for the past five weeks. And dinner. No matter how much he told him he didn't need to. He didn't mind the help, he minded that Connor felt he had to help.

He misses the gratuitous amount of fast food intake, he barely cooked before. He guesses his heart does not.

And, until a week ago, Connor had been waking him up each morning. Until a grumpy Monday morning Hank had finally stumbled out of bed and politely (maybe he snapped a bit) sat down and told him he didn't need to act like his goddamn butler. Connor had quickly apologized, assured he wouldn't wake Hank up again, and, like no confrontation had even happened, changed the subject.

Eventually they'd have to have an actual conversation, He realizes. He doesn't want to exactly. He isn't sure what the conversation would even sound like. Something along of the lines of you know you don't have be my servant just because you live here now right?

He hates bacon though. It reminds him of the breakfast he would make Cole before school. When he and Isobel would coax him out of bed with eggs and bacon. Right before he would grab his navy blue backpack adorned by grey dolphins that he always, always fucking struggled to zip up by himself-

He hated mornings. He wants to crawl back under the trio of blankets and sleep until tomorrow. Mornings were bullshit. He needed to breathe. Fucking bacon.

Usually he was drunk by now, on a bad day at least. Usually he didn't have to think of these things until his sixth bottle. Which he never got to, he was always passed out by his fifth.

He only had three whiskey's last night, not for a lack of trying however. By the time he come back from a piss Connor had hid the remaining bottles. He had been so pissed before stomping off to pass out in the comfort of his own bed.

Maybe that had been for the best, he muses. Wouldn't of done him any fucking good to think about Cole with five bottles in him. He always tried to do something during his fifth. Whether it was a date with a game of Russian Roulette or a twenty minute puke in the toilet. Or something worse.

What fucking ever. He thinks. Less of a hangover. Less time to drunkenly wallow in the last few years of sorrow grief. There was that, at least.

He glances at the digital clock beside him, red numbers yelling at him. Eight Thirty, that's new. He hasn't woken up this early by himself in three years. It feels weird. Maybe the kid's influence was rubbing off on him. Not that it was a bad thing.

After a few moments, he sighs, sitting up, the sun that melts through the curtains persistently falling onto his eyes. And, after another minute, pushes the blankets back and swinging his legs over the bed. The house feels colder without them. And without socks. Sumo trails behind him.

He gently pushes the bedroom door open, the sizzling of the frying pan greeting his ears first, the voices on the tv more or less white noise to him. He turns, meeting the back of Connor inside of the kitchen.

The android still doesn't have clothes of his own, or, money for that matter to buy said clothes with. Save for a brown jacket and beanie. And Hank was getting tired of seeing him sporting that same Cyberlife jacket he first talked to him in. They both were. The hoodie he loaned him was definitely bit big for him, but anything had to of been better than that damned jacket.

Connor glances back. "Good morning Hank!"

The grey haired man plops down into nearest kitchen chair, sticking a hand under his chin for support. " I think you and I have very different definitions of what a good morning is, kid." He runs a hand over his face.

"Mornings are pleasant though." Connor muses.

"Easy for you to say, you don't go to sleep and end up waking up tired. Or need sleep at all actually."

Connor hums. "I'm making food, though. Don't humans always feel better after they've had some food?" He asks.

Hank shrugs, letting both of his arms rest on the table. "You've got a point there."

Connor looks back, softly smiling, before returning back to cooking, giving a nearby Sumo a gentle pat on the head. And for a while they keep each other company in silence, save for the noise of the frying pan and tv, and an occasional cough from the older man.

Eventually however, Hank cuts through the silence. He wants to get this over with, whatever this is.

"You know you don't have to do this.. right Connor?" He hopes he knows. He's smarter than that.

Connor spares a quick look back at him. "Do what?"

Hank raises his arms, gesturing. This is the second time they've had this conversation, he thinks. "You know, this. All of it. You know what I mean." The unspoken acting like you're still programmed to have to help hangs in the air waiting to drop like a shoe.

Connor tilts his head. moving towards the table and setting down the fresh plate of bacon and toast with a small clatter. "What, cook breakfast? I think I actually might enjoy it." He admits. "It's relaxing, despite not being able to actually eat what I make."

"That isn't..exactly what I meant- look, can you just..sit down a second? Please?" Hank sighs, looking up at him, using a hand to gesture at the chair in front of him.

Connor frowns but complies, stepping forward and lowering himself into a chair, arms folded neatly in his lap.

"Did I...do something wrong?" He asks, chestnut eyes staring back at him.

"No, you didn't it's- just- you don't have to do all of this, Connor. Making me breakfast, dinner, hell, until a week ago you were even waking me up in the morning. You know you aren't programmed to serve anyone anymore right? This is your house just as much as it's mine. You don't have to walk on eggshells."

The android stays quiet for a moment, biting his lip, he looks down, avoiding eye contact. Until he speaks.

"Lieutenant-"

"Hank."

"-Hank, I know, i'm not doing any of this because I have to. Or because I believe I owe you. Well, it's partly that." Connor starts.

"I...you took me in, when.. when I had nowhere else to go. You opened your home to someone who not even five days ago you hated and I just... I wanted to show my gratitude. And if i'm being honest it's also because I wanted you to get....healthier." Connor continues.

"Healthier." Hank echos.

Connor nods, shifting in his chair, he wrings his hands. "You're unhealthy, Hank." He states in an empty voice.

"Well jeez thanks, appreciate this fucking observation." Hank remarks. "Always a nice day to bring up my shitty lifestyle."

Connor sighs, raising his head. "No it's.. it's just...You're a good man, lieutenant. You let me into your home after only five or six days of knowing me. I'm grateful...Hank. And I don't...want you to die." He confesses, frustration in his voice.

Hank blinks, taken aback. He leans forward. "I'm not dying, kid."

"You're a self destructive alcoholic, Hank." Connor says softly, looking everywhere but Hank's eyes. I'm sure if I hadn't said yes to your offer of living here, you'd still be sleeping right now. And possibly drunk. And you would of spent last night far drunker."

Hank huffs, annoyance bubbling up. "Thanks." He says, pushing his chair back, harshly, and heading towards the other room. "I loved our little chat."

"Hank. Please just- what I meant," Connor sighs, raising his voice slightly. "is, that you're my friend." He continues. Hank stops a few meters short of the living room, clenching and unclenching his hands before slowly turning around.

"And," Connor continues, shifting again and crossing his arms. "I hope with time I could be yours. But I don't want you to just...waste away. I thought since you let me lay on your couch each night, the least I could do was make sure you weren't going to just let yourself slowly die because I like you alive."

Hank blinks. Unbelievable. He thinks. Usually people paid those who let them sleep on their couch, in their home, paid them back with money, or bought them a plant or something. Connor however, set out on a mission to make sure he didn't end up drinking himself to death or something. If it was anyone else giving him this much grief, he would of picked them up and thrown them out of his house as he picked up another drink.

But the sincerity of it all, however short their friendship has been so far, he trusts Connor's intentions.

He doesn't deserve to have to worry about him.

"I understand if I have upset you." Connor says quietly. "But you deserve to be able to live again. Resume your life."

Resume life. Resume life because he's spent the last three years with his on pause as he drank himself into a deep, whiskey scented, bottomless, hole.

Without his son.

Without Cole.

Hank closes the distance between him and the table, pulling the chair out, settling down into it again. For a moment he says nothing.

"I'll quit making you breakfast and dinner so much. Or altogether, you'd like. But I won't stop being persistent with the drinking." Connor says.

Hank scoffs. "You sound like my ex wife."

"Sorry."

"No it's...you're a good kid, Connor. You know that?"

"I'm not a kid, lieutenant. I'm a RK800 android, however I was designed to look to like an adult man in his late twentie-"

"Fuck sake kid, you know what I meant."

Connor cracks a smile, a moment or two later Hank speaks again.

"I can't promise i'll stop completely, or even a little bit. It's...hard. But i'll...try. Harder, at least. But, shit, you don't have to worry about me dying, any time soon."

"That's good. Can I help you in anyway?"

"God, no. You've...helped enough. And I didn't even have to ask. I have to do this by myself. But if I do need help i'll tell ya okay?"

Connor nods.

"Good. Now, this bacon is gonna go cold if I don't eat it. So, if you excuse me..."He trails off, digging into it.

Connor leaves him to his food, and for once in a long while, Hank genuinely smiles.

He felt grateful.

#roree writes #this is a five times fanfiction and its 7k i wasn't even gonna try putting it all in one post #detroit become human #hank anderson

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