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fayeimara · 3 years

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Meant To Be Series || One For Every Billion

5. Thank Some Gods

You end up in Hyogo for a real hot minute over your winter break, thanks to your cousins Akira and Akari who decided to drag you along when they were forced to visit with their mom and older brother. Being a year older then them and already a seasoned solo traveller, the parents all thought you'd be a great chaperone. Woohoo, yay you.

Truth be told, you love spending time with them and you're really happy to be able to see your aunt and other cousin, their brother Kazuya, that you'd missed over the summer, as well. Although you did have to apologize to Tobio and his family because when you'd promised you would stay with them next, you should have specified you meant next time you were in Miyagi. Not Japan in general. You think they were just taking the piss though.

Oh right, your vulgar new phrases are courtesy of Akira, thank her very much. Spend a few minutes in the twins' company and you end up talking like them, or whatever their west coast academy friends are currently teaching them, at least. Akari has a valley girl phase going and you think Akira is gearing up for a Tarantino-inspired life. Can't see how your family is let that going to happen, but it's not your job to tell him that.

"Y/nnn, did you try this dango!" Akira runs right into you, appearing from the crowd of people on the festive street of the shopping district you're in, and locks her free arm around yours while waving a stick with round balls on it in other other hand.

"No, but I waited 10 minutes standing still in the cold and crowd so you can bet that I will. Half of that is already mine."

"Hmph," She scoffs, "No one told you to stand still and wait around, silly."

You give her an exasperated look, "You literally said, 'stay there a minute, I'm grabbing us some sweets!' and bounced off."

"Okay, okay, chill your roll, girl."

"Not sure that's a saying, girl."

"Maybe not at the snooty east side preps."

"Yo." Akira appears on your other side. "Half that's mine."

"A third. Or none at all." Akari sticks her tongue out at her twin.

He looks over at you and you nod, twisting quickly so you can grab and hold her occupied arm still while he plucks the dango from her hand.

"Hey! Looks like it's none at all!"

"No. Looks like it's half mine, half Y/n's." He bites off one of the chewy balls (okay, we all know how that sounds.. slow your roll, girl) before holding the stick in front of your face so you can grab one too. Oh wow. It is good. Why did you wait so long to try it? So many years wasted without enjoying this sweet texture.

You can see your third cousin approaching, holding onto a tray of steaming drinks, as you chew over your thoughts on the delicious dessert (see what you did there?).

"I got your coffee", he holds the tray between us so I can grab one of the cups with my free hand, but like.. Kazuya, which one is it?

"Kazuuu, they're bullying me!" Akari pouts for sympathy only for Akira to fire back almost before she reaches the last word.

"She bullied me first!"

Instead of responding to either, he rolls his eyes at their bickering but they're only having fun. You've never met siblings that have each other's backs more than these two. You think Kazuya misses it too, having decided to study in Japan and live with his mom who consequently chose to work here, while the other two live with their dad - but really at a boarding school - back on the American west coast.

"Whatever, are you grabbing your drinks or what?"

Akari only smiles at her older brother's deadpan expression, "Which one is my hot chocolate, niichan?"

"Please don't call me that."

"Why not?"

But it's Akira who answers with a snicker, "Because you don't even go here, brat. It's cringy coming from you."

"Shut up, ugly clone."

"That's literally impossible unless you're calling yourself ugly too."

Okay, you're just going to go for the cup closest to you on your left. You pick it up and sip slowly... success. The sweet, warm flavour of your white chocolate mocha slides down your throat.

Kazu is giving you an arch look now, he knows how much you live for coffee but he's still going to say something about it, right? "You know it's already dark out, I don't know how you can drink this stuff so late. Don't you want to get some sleep tonight?"

"Bold of you to assume I need sleep." You smirk at him over the rim of your cup while Akari makes an attempt at snatching the remaining dango back from her brother around you. Please don't make me spill.

"Nah, I just assume you're a robot and this is your regular maintenance or something."

You consider his words before shrugging, nothing too mean that you can call him out on, you guess. "Down the hatch then."

"Sure thing, but I'm not staying up late bingeing your crappy shows with you when you're wired."

"But you'll binge a non-crappy show?"

"Maybe."

Another smile for your favourite cousin of the minute. He did get you coffee, you know. Akari's managed to grab the third sweet off the stick with her mouth like some rabid animal, but it makes sense because the hand not still holding onto you is holding back Akari's arm. They're going to smac-

And they hit the tray that Kazu was only just holding. He somehow manages to grab one of the drinks you assume is his out of it's spot while avoiding the wreckage spill of the other two cups. He didn't even try to hold on to it, which is partly why you're laughing as both twins start simultaneously apologizing and complaining about their spilled drinks.

Kazuya's deadpan expression is actually pretty communicative for the the moment, "I'm not going back for another, this is on you guys."

"Kazu, do you like being mean to us?" They actually ask this at the same time but Kazu's not even phased.

"Yes, I want you to suffer." He's dry as ever.

You chuckle but they're so sweet, most of the time, so you'll make it up for them, "I passed a stall selling hot chocolate, since we don't need to replace my specialty coffee, I can go there to get you some."

"Me too?" Akira asks hopefully.

"Yes, you too, puppy."

He rolls his eyes, trying to adjust his expression back into an uncaring one. It's more natural on his brother currently, but you can definitely see him grow into a more serious demeanour someday.

"I'll come with you while these two stay put." Kazu gives his younger siblings a stern look.

"No need," You wave him off, grabbing the stick with the last piece of dango and handing it to him, "Enjoy this as repayment from us all for making you go all the way back into the mall for our drinks. In the meantime, I'll be right back."

"Hold on, you're going to the one next to the onigiri stand, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay, straight there and back in fifteen minutes or I'll come find you. And if I have to worry, I won't be happy."

"Okay niisan." You roll your eyes with your sarcastic tone. Older brothers. No wonder he and your brother Raiden get along so well, they're under some misassumption that their younger siblings just can't help getting into trouble, as if you all only live to annoy them. And he was doing so well as your favourite cousin for the time being.

You stroll away from the benches you were waiting at by the end of the street where the outdoor stalls meet the main street shopping mall and melt back into the crowd. This festival really is something, so brightly lit with pretty twinkling lights strung up everywhere and curled around any available post like glowing, warm yellow vines. You absolutely love the vibe but you know you're on a time crunch.

You notice the onigiri stand just ahead of the drink stall and debate for a quick second before stopping in the surprisingly short line up. A piece each of sweet dessert does not a stomach fill. Unfortunately, just as you take a sip of your coffee, someone bumps into you from behind, causing it to spill over your lips and dribble down your chin but you adjust enough in time, holding the cup out and away from you, so that you're not covered in any more than that and the little bit on your hand.

You hate wet clothing with a passion, especially when it's cold outside and it clings to you with that awful chilly, sticky feel. Not so bad when it's on your coat, but on principle, that's just as unpleasant if you run the cuff of your sleeve over it or it get on the collar and then you have the tiniest bit of discomfort right by sensitive skin and that makes it all the more glaring.

You realize the person who bumped into you also reached out to steady you at the same time and is now speaking, "Shit, I'm so sorry."

It's a little quiet but you make out his apology through his thick dialect. Hm, you think that's where the odd changes in Kazu and his mom's speech are coming from, a regional osmosis of accents?

"No worries, it's pretty crowded." You only half turn while you search your pockets for a tissue or napkin, spotting a flash of grey in your peripherals. Then an arm covered in that grey reaches out to hold a napkin in your field of view and you finally look up to see who it belongs too.

And now you're just staring. Hi there, I'd like hear your voice more. Preferably while you stare at his mouth move on his beautiful face. You can't believe he just had his hand on your waist, even if it was just for a split second and over layers of clothes, and you didn't get to appreciate it.

"It's not dirty." He shakes the napkin, you're assuming because he thankfully thought you were thinking that over instead of ogling him.

You chuckle, thinking how you definitely need to send thanks to some divine power on the new year for all the interactions with some serious eye candy these past six months, but out loud you say, "I really need to thank some gods out there, huh?"

What?

He gives you a confused look but you catch yourself and, before he can respond and question your sanity, quickly follow up with, "Or just you. For this. Thank you for the napkin."

"S'alright. Wasn't a big favour, really, just makin' up for my fault bumpin' into ya." You're not sorry he did, though? You can't tell what he's thinking, this guy is a closed book, folks. It's kind of jarring, since you consider yourself exceptional at reading people and acclimating to them.

You finally actually accept the napkin and wipe at your mouth and chin first, then your hand, responding, "At least you didn't make me drop the coffee or we would have had a real problem."

You think he realizes you're teasing because the corner of his mouth actually inches up the tiniest bit. You're not imagining, you swear it on your mocha!

"Coffee this late?"

"It's 11am somewhere."

"Ya wake up at 11am?" What an interesting thought process he has.

"Are you not on winter break? Or do you just assume your typical hours in every conversation no matter what day of the year it is?"

"Huh." You think he sounds thoughtful? Or was it just the word and you're associating it with how you use it..

"That's not an answer, but I'll take that to mean you go the typical route." You smile again because like you said, he's unreadable and you really don't want him to think you're being bitchy. You're really grateful for the napkin. And that face. So... yeah.

You're moving up, thankfully, because you thought you were blessed but this is just turning into what feels like an awkward encounter.

"I like sleepin' in, but sometimes I get too hungry so I'm up when my stomach is."

You look back at him in surprise, obviously because he bothered to continue a seemingly closed conversation, but that quickly turns into amusement and commiseration, "Oh I know! It's mostly coffee for me because not a lot of people bother to make breakfast in my house, but if I smell something delicious cooking, I forget I'm not a morning person."

He does smile fully then and it's beautiful. "Me too, but I'm usually the one doing the cookin'."

"Oh wow, that's dedication. I can respect but never reach that ideal." You hold your hand to your heart in a silly salute but also because he's still smiling and you're trying to tell your unreliable organ to be still. Not too still though, you're enjoying the moment and want to keep living it.

"Eh, I'm used to it."

"Well then, for once, let someone else take care of your food. I'll get your order for you."

"Seriously? It was just a napkin and my fault too.."

"Yeah, no, don't worry about it! Consider it a gift in essence of the festival!"

He doesn't say anything for a moment before, "I was going to try the different flavours. That's a lot."

"No way, that's awesome! I'll do that too, I don't even know what they have available, I just stopped here on a whim on my way there." You indicate the stand next to the one you're almost to the front of with a wave of your hand.

"Ahh.. if ya like, I can suggest some?"

You happily smile at him as you accept, "That would be great, thank you so much."

The two of you step up to the counter together and you listen while he orders. While you both wait for them to place each of your requests, he explains some of the fillings and why they work best depending on personal taste and even situation. You tell him about having just tried dango, sad about having realized you missed out so long, and he actually smiles widely at your exaggerated pained expression but also recommends some other desserts, including which shops to stop at in the city.

It's starting to snow as you two talk, which is not rare but still unusual for this region, but thankfully it's not much longer before you're each handed your containers and move aside. You look over to him and laugh when you realize this guy is already munching on one of the onigiris, your breath puffing out in a small cloud before you. "Which one is it?"

"Fatty tuna." He talks around it with his own little puffy cloud and it's pretty cute actually, instead of the usual cringe when people talk with their mouths full. Oh, the benefits of being good looking. Also, he's tilted his head down ever so slightly so it's almost polite in a perfected way.

"I'm just going to go ahead and assuming you're enjoying it."

He nods while swallowing and then makes some pretty intense eye contact while speaking way too seriously, "Thank you. This is amazing."

You smile, feeling like in the minutes the two of you were conversing, you've gotten a little more comfortable with the minute changes in his expressions. "You're welcome. I'm going to head over to the drink stall now, but it was nice to meet you!"

With a laugh as you walk away, you also add, "And thank you for sharing your knowledge with me, at least I'll know where to feed myself when I'm craving different things this week."

You're turning away as he seems to stand there watching you with some hesitation, but you can't do all the heavy lifting in a conversation when you're on a time limit, so you'll chalk this up to another fun run-in with a cute guy for the books.

You're lucky there's no line up, you're really short on your deadline and your fingers are getting pretty cold along with your coffee, so you pay for the hot chocolate, they pour, and you're back off towards the end of the street where your cousins are waiting.

You can't move too fast given the bag dangling from the wrist of the hand that's also carefully holding the tray of four hot chocolates, but the crowd is also thinning out a little now with the snow. Hopefully, if you're a couple minutes behind the expected time, the diverse and sheer amount of onigiri you have in the bag you're now holding, as well as the new round of warm drinks, will bring you forgiveness.

You finish up the last, cool dregs of your coffee just as you pass by a trash can, making the split decision to quickly reverse so you can toss your cup and free up a hand. As you execute your smooth move and then turn back, you unsurprisingly bump into someone yet again. Not so smooth then, you think, looking up.

It's deja vu and for a split second, you consider that he might actually be a weirdo and followed you, because stopping in your path as an apology drops from your lips is the guy you were only just talking to, same face, same dark hair, even same height... but with a different jacket on.

It takes you all of one more second to notice the small differences like the eye colour, the way the hair naturally parts, and the slightest difference in size, not to mention the more obvious difference in openness and personality literally exuding from this one. He's actually smiling wide right away with no provocation. So not a weirdo who changed his jacket and followed you.

Also, have you ever considered the odds of multiple sets of twins being in pretty much the same place at the same time?

"Oh, there's another one of you, huh?" You're talking again before he even has a chance to respond to your apology, but you guess you feel familiar thanks to your brief encounter with his twin. "That's unfair, don't you think?"

You step around him calling out, "Anyways, sorry about that. Enjoy your night." and walk away, back towards your own set of twins.

Ugh, Kazu's going to kill you. You won't be making it in time, for sure.

Miya Atsumu's POV

Atsumu turns to follow the stunning girl's progress as she moves around him and away, catching her last words but still more interested in her previous statement. 'There's another one of you, huh?'.

People have been confusing him and his twin for as long as they've been alive and only those that know them really well can only sometimes make out the difference.

It's no longer amusing, and actually irritating enough that he and 'Samu have been considering a little aesthetic change some time next year, maybe before their first year of high school.

'Tsumu knows it's his brother without looking when someone walks up to his left side from behind him. What he's surprised by is his first words, "She think you were me? I was talkin' to her a bit at the stall."

When he glances over, he notices 'Samu staring after her as well, with a lot more interest than simple, piqued curiosity. Does he know her?

"No.." He contemplates her words again before sharing with his brother, "She said 'There's another one of you, huh? That's unfair, don't you think?' and then walked away."

He can feel 'Samu looking over at him curiously, "Did ya talk to her?"

Why is he asking? He hasn't even picked up a new onigiri from the open box in his hand. "I just bumped into her. Didn't even say a word. Do ya know her?"

"Like I said, I only just met her." Pausing, 'Samu seems to think it over before adding, "We only talked a few minutes, maybe."

The twins are silent for another couple moments, while the snow continues to drift around them. The girl is long gone, swallowed up by the crowd at this point, but they keep staring at where they last saw her retreating figure, each in their own intrigued thoughts.

Finally, 'Samu's the one who breaks the silence, "Do ya believe in coincidences, 'Tsumu?"

"No, 'Samu, ya know I don't."

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Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Tee was called out in the first thread because he doesn't use emojis often, especially not the half assed ones he used for a scenario like that so... caught slipping lmao (aw he does care about Y/n <3 Maybe more than he should?)

-Y/n was NOT expecting to get called out like that for saying she likes Oikawa when she'd literally just called him her friend... Iwa, you slick wingman ;) <3 He might bully the shit out of Oikawa (to keep him in check though) but he really is his best friend :')

-Ushi says what he means and means what he says lol, yeah, he wasn't really surprised

-Y/n's friends aren't all necessarily happy about this development; they've been aware of her various interactions as they usually are (some more than others) but... they're getting older and, well, all not sharing as much with each other as they once did

-But they're still going to call her out and roast her because they're her best friends lmao who else will? They have to keep her in check too loool

-Oikawa's last reply... <33 Take it how you will :D

-And Shin just dropping in to screenshot his cousin's embarrassing moments, hoping for a dirty delete so he can roast her all over again for the same crime lmao, probably shouldn't have warned her though... whoops

-I HC the Miyas' hair dyeing happening at/around their first year of HS, anyone know any different? It was only Osamu's jacket that was grey in Y/n's peripherals, just a little tease for us all ;)

A/N: Guys, I'm really, really sorry about the Miyas' 'accent'... you might see a couple different attempts in there but I had to edit a lot of what I tried out because it sounded just awful however I was originally trying to write it earlier. If you guys do have any suggestions, I'm very much all hears (and eyes lol - heart eyes specifically because I've seen some write them incredibly well!).

That aside, I hope you all enjoyed this one, I loved writing it so much, it just flowed once I started and I love the Miya twins, each in their own way <33 I've been dying to introduce them and the other 'main' characters but there's definitely going to be a difference in the weight of interactions Y/n has for a while. It's not favoritism, I promise; Y/n's time spent with various characters is just going to be uneven at various points due to the natural progression of her story :') but I plan for it all to even out as we move along the years (:

Taglist: @delusivist, @prettyinblack231, @kac-chowsballs, @sakusasimpbot

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datheetjoella · 4 years

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Fantober 2020, Day 23: Neighbours

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 23/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,841 Tags: Canonverse, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Love Confession, First Kiss Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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One of the biggest changes Haruka had to get used to when he moved to Tokyo was the distance. In Iwatobi, everywhere he needed to go was a stone’s throw or a bike ride away, whether it be school or the swim club or the shopping centre or even just the beach. Compared to the small, rural town he grew up in, this metropolis was overwhelmingly large. Here, the only places that happened to be within walking distance were the pool and the convenience store around the corner. For everything else, he had to catch a train. That included Makoto’s apartment.

For as long as he could remember, Makoto and he had been neighbours. Removed by one stairwell, Haruka's house was located a bit higher than Makoto's, but their bedroom windows faced one another. If the curtains were drawn back, they could see each other without any trouble. Although it was a bit too far for them to be able to talk without yelling across the street and disturbing the whole town, they found other ways to communicate - before they got their cellphones, that was. They’d hold up notes to ask the other something without having to leave the house first. They were usually questions like 'do you want to come over?' or 'shall we go to the playground?', but a request of 'can you bring your colouring book?' wasn't uncommon either.

Ever since middle school, Haruka would occasionally sneak a glance underneath the curtains after he went to bed to see if the lights in Makoto’s room were still on. If they were, he'd imagine Makoto had fallen asleep while playing a game or was cramming for an upcoming history test. During the times his parents were gone and he was left alone in the house, those thoughts brought him comfort. It made him feel less lonely knowing Makoto was near.

When he made the decision to go to a university in Tokyo too, Haruka had hoped this would stay the same. But Makoto hadn't proposed to room together and there was no way he would bring that up himself, and all the other apartments in the complex had been rented out already. The closest place Haruka could find between Makoto's apartment and his school was thankfully on the same train line, but Makoto still felt farther away than ever.

After a few months, Haruka had become somewhat accustomed to it, but it remained a bit strange. At night, he sometimes felt like the city was swallowing him whole, but Makoto and he kept in touch on days they couldn't meet and that soothed the ache just a little.

In the end, the journey might've been troublesome, but the destination was always worth it. When Makoto's building came into sight, the knot inside his stomach unfurled.

Because of his work at the pool, Makoto came over to Haruka's place more than Haruka went to his. To balance it out, he made an effort to go to Makoto on their days off. They had plans to study and eat dinner together, therefore Haruka stopped by the grocery store on the way here. He'd make a big pot of curry so they could both have some leftovers for the upcoming days - and because it was Makoto's favourite.

When he got to Makoto's door, he didn't as much as knock before he went inside. No matter how much distance separated them, Makoto's place would forever be his second home - though if it were up to him, it would be his first home. That was something he wouldn’t bring up, either.

"I'm coming in," Haruka said more out of habit than courtesy, letting the door fall shut behind him as he dropped his bags on the floor. He leaned down to untie his shoelaces.

Makoto looked up from where his nose was buried in his laptop. "Hey, Haru," he said with a smile, eyes crinkling behind his black-framed glasses. "I hope you don't mind that I started already. I have to write this six-page paper that is due on Tuesday and I've already been putting it off for long enough."

Haruka shook his head; Makoto's gentle smile erased the dark clouds fogging up his mind.

"What do you want to drink?" Makoto pushed himself off the floor. "I've got water, barley tea, coffee and… that's it."

Haruka frowned. "You don't even have milk?"

"Drank the last of it this morning," Makoto explained sheepishly, "If you want, I'll run over to the convenience store to get some."

"No, water is fine," Haruka said as he stuffed the curry ingredients into Makoto's disgustingly empty fridge. “Were you able to make some progress?”

“I’ve only written the introduction so far. But I’ll try my best to get it done today, and next time I’ll start earlier.”

A huff of amusement left Haruka’s nose. “You say that every time.”

“Because I want to start early, it’s just that there’s always something that comes in between and ruins my plans,” Makoto said as he carried their glasses over to the table.

“Don’t worry about helping with dinner then and use all the time you have to write.”

Makoto offered him a sweet smile that made Haruka’s insides feel like honey. “Thanks, Haru.”

Warmth rose to his cheeks and Haruka quickly busied himself with taking his books out of his bag. When his hand couldn’t find what he was searching for, he clicked his tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Makoto asked, eyebrows raised comically above his glasses.

“Forgot my notebook at home,” Haruka said with a sigh. What an idiot he was. How could he be so stupid to forget to bring the most important item to a study session?

“Sorry,” Makoto said as if he could’ve done anything to help it. “Do you want me to go get it?”

“No, it’s fine, you worry about your paper,” Haruka said, suppressing a smile at Makoto’s kindness - or perhaps it was another means of procrastination disguised as selflessness.

“This was easier back in high school,” Makoto said, “Then it wouldn’t take more than two minutes to go and fetch it.”

“If only we still lived so close.”

The words left Haruka automatically, without any input from his common sense. The instant he realised what he implied, he wanted to smack his head against the table. He hoped Makoto would brush it off as something small and unimportant, but he could never be that lucky, could he?

“Is that something you want? Living closer to each other?”

“No, I mean, I just-”

“Because I do. I would like for us to live closer.”

Makoto’s expression was dead serious and Haruka’s heart skipped a beat.

“Closer as in being neighbours again or closer as in being roommates?” Haruka asked as he tugged at a hangnail, unable to meet Makoto’s gaze.

“Closer as in living together,” Makoto said, picking his words carefully, and from the corner of his eye, Haruka could see his cheeks were rapidly darkening. “I mean, it would be easier for me too to live closer to my work and I already crash at your place so often that it’s kind of a waste to pay so much rent. But if that’s not something you want, then I understand.” He ended his rambling with awkward laughter and Haruka clenched his fists.

Suddenly feeling bold, Haruka mumbled, “I want it. I’ve always wanted it, but you didn’t ask me.”

Taken aback by that, Makoto said, “You didn’t ask me either. You asked me to come look for a place with you, so I assumed you wanted to continue living alone.”

“I didn’t,” Haruka said, “I was fine living by myself in Iwatobi, but here…”

He trailed off before he could spill more of his hearts contents. He didn’t know what overcame him, but the feelings he’d been hiding deep within himself for months now were threatening to unveil themselves completely unprompted. His feet were ready to make a run for it, but his knees were glued to the cushion. Had this conversation occurred in the past, he would’ve fled from the scene faster than the speed of light, but now he couldn’t leave. This had to happen.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it? I feel it too. I always knew living alone would be a challenge for me, but I hadn’t expected it to be quite this hard.” Makoto reached out to touch his hand. When Haruka didn’t pull back, he curled his fingers around his. “You know, every morning when I woke up, I would immediately open my curtains to see if you were awake too. Then I knew I could go straight to your house after breakfast without disturbing you and that made me feel close to you.”

Haruka’s mouth fell open in surprise. He thought he was odd for keeping such a close eye on Makoto’s bedroom window, but it turned out Makoto did it too. Perhaps they were a bit too in tune with each other.

“But now, all I have to know if you’re awake is a text. I’m happy to receive it, but it feels so impersonal, doesn’t it? Anyone could’ve typed those words, so it’s not the same as seeing your face and hearing your voice,” Makoto continued as he scratched at his cheek. “I don’t know, I just miss you when you’re not around, I guess. Sorry if that’s weird.”

“It’s not,” Haruka said and the dam shattered. “I want to be with you too. Every single day.”

This time, it was Makoto’s jaw that plummeted. “You want to be with me, as in, forever?”

Haruka nodded and he was pretty sure his face was starting to look like a perfectly-cooked lobster, but he couldn’t back down now.

“Does that mean you have feelings for me?” Makoto said slowly like one wrong word could make Haruka explode - which wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities. “As in, romantic feelings?”

“Maybe it does.”

It was an evasive answer, but Makoto knew Haruka well enough to read between the lines. A huge smile lit up his handsome face. “Haru!” he said and he nearly tackled Haruka to the floor in a big hug. “I love you too.”

It wasn’t like Haruka expected anything else, but hearing Makoto say it so bluntly made his heart do a backflip of joy. Though bashfulness still coursed through his veins, he wrapped his arms tightly around Makoto. The feeling of Makoto’s chest pressed against his and his large hands on his back felt even better than he could’ve imagined.

Time froze around them when their eyes met. The gravitational pull towards Makoto’s mouth that Haruka had been resisting for months now was stronger than ever. There was no reason to combat it anymore, so Haruka let his eyes fall shut and leaned up. Their lips met in their very first kiss.

Makoto’s paper, Haruka’s homework and dinner could wait until later. At that moment, there was nothing they wanted to do more than to explore this new chapter in their relationship and their lives.

#i'm sorry i'm stupid #makoharu #makoharu fic #my fic #fantober2020 #colourful days with you

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darlingod · 5 years

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Jurdan Au

post wicked king, when jude comes back for cardans’s blood.

(can’t promise any grammar is correct)

I walk into the High King’s scattered room. It looks the same as it did a year ago, but it feels… different. Unfamiliar.

He’s at the end of the bed, head down as if disappointed, ashamed. Which he should be. He looks not like a king, but a boy. Something he never was. Never had the chance to be.

I wonder if he spends all of his time moping in his room like this. I hope he does.

He picks on the sides of his fingernails, a habit he may have picked up on from the time I’ve been gone.

I take an almost inaudible, but loud enough, step to show my presence. He doesn’t look up as he whispers, “Jude.” Not a question, a statement. After this long he knows it’s me. I do not know how he knows. And I also do not care.

I think.

“Hello, darling.” I mock what he once called me. I smile at him as if we were close friends. As if we didn’t hate each other. Yet he still doesn’t move. To see the High King in a state like this is odd, maybe even a little amusing. What has affected him this way? What could? He has his wine, his courtiers.

His crown.

What else more could he want and not have?

I’m suddenly hot with anger. The person in front of me has always had a gift of pissing me off all too easily. I hate myself for it. I hate him for it. My blood boils at the memories. Of the mere thought of him. “It’s been awhile,” my hatred is thankfully concealed. I cannot let him know the effect he still has on me. How angry he can make me. Any other feeling I had towards him is very, long gone. Not even the fae can see it.

His dark locks are dangling in front of his face, long but not too much longer than when I left. It seems Cardan never fails to take care of himself, no matter the circumstances.

What circumstances? He never cared. He exiled you because you are nothing to him.

I cock my head to the side, “Though, it wasn’t in any of my control since you exiled me,” he lifts his head up slowly, his hair naturally moving out of his face. His eyes drift to my finger, where the ring isn’t. His face is neutral but I can see the exhaustion. Good. “It was hard, however, nothing I couldn't handle.” I mention for no reason. I have nothing to prove to him.

Then why isn’t he in pieces on the floor already?

“You’ve always been able to handle anything.” A lie he believes. He truly believes that. I wish I could believe it too.

“You are not wrong, Your Unbearable Highness,” I don’t even attempt a courtesy, I’m too angry for dramatics.

As I said the words, his eyes lock with mine and I grin wider at the sadness I see in them. At the mess I see. He’s been terrible without me, this I know. This, I want to scream with delight.

“You won’t say my name.” he says and I fight a scowl.

“You don’t need a name,” I spit, “you have a title. One that I gave you and in return, you repaid in kind.” I say with laminated respect, still smiling. I lift my hand up and start picking at my nails, to act as though this conversation has no effect to me at all. “Banishing me was clever, more than I’d like to admit. I wouldn’t allow myself to believe that you had become accustomed to playing High King, turning me blind to your talents, your desires. Well played,” I take a step toward him, our gazes still connected. I’m about to take another but his next words stop me short.

“I’m sorry.” My eyes go wide and my smile falters. I swallow hard, too shocked to do anything else. Those were the last words I thought I’d ever hear from his mouth. I almost wish he didn’t say them. Maybe I could start with cutting his tongue off. It would fix so many problems.

“What?” I question unbelievably, my voice coming out high.

“I’m so sorry, Jude,” He covers the right side of his face with a hand and wipes an eye exhaustingly and a bit dramatically.

“You don’t mean that.” I accuse and he scoffs.

“Of course I do. I cannot lie.” He snaps, obviously pissed off by the fact. He relaxes himself and drops the hand on his face. “I’ve thought about it every day since you left. I’ve thought about you every day since you left.” he quietly curses at himself.

“Since you exiled me.” I correct harshly. “Since you humiliated me in front of our court. You made me look nimble and insane. You made me look powerless.” He makes a pained face though continues.

“And you killed my brother,” I flinch as he snaps. I never intended to kill Balekin. I never intended to kill anyone. It’s not my fault the fae have a talent for underestimating me. “I had plenty of reasons to exile you. You forget, Jude, that I don’t forgive. You forget that I’m not the childish, naive boy I was a year ago,”

“And who made you who you are today? Who gave you the title you currently hold?” I question but we both already know the answer. I tell him anyway, to make him realize a mortal gave him something that he, himself, a faerie, couldn’t take. “I, a weak mortal, made the folk believe you are important. They no longer think of you stupid and foolish because of me; because of a mortal.” I push my words into his face, something I’ve always been so good at, especially with him.

He pushes back. “Does it nag at you that no one knows you are the crown?” He raises a single, dark brow. “True, they don’t see me as foolish, but they see you as that. I was not the one who was exiled, I was not the one who lost the crown. I was not the one,” he tilts his head to the side, “to lose power.” And he smiles.

The Devil smiles.

“I don’t have power? Who’s the one with the knife?” It’s my turn to grin. His black eyes start to glow. I try not to remember why.

“Beside those facts, I still hate myself everyday for what I did.” My smiles fades. “It was the most idiotic thing I have ever done, and I’ve done many idiotic things.” He admits and closes his eyes, hiding whatever he feels. If he feels at all.

“Then why’d you do it?” His eyes snap open. Now it’s his turn to be surprised.

“What?”

“Was it because I posed a threat?” I take a step closer, leaving two feet separating us. “To spare your feelings?” Another step. “Or did you always feel nothing at all?” I let my emotions get the best of me, I compose myself, empty my expression, which is something I have gotten too good at. I take my last step and lean closer to his face so we are only inches apart. He’s much taller than me but I feel as though we’re on the same level. I hope I make him feel small. “You said you had many reasons to exile me, tell me the most valuable one, the one that settled my exile.” He’ll tell me, I’m not worried about that at all.

“You want to know why I really exiled you.” his eyes fall to my lips, then to my knife, then back up to my lips.

“The High King actually listens now does he?” He raises an eyebrow. I lean back up and cross my arms. “Of course I want to know. It’s been gnawing at me ever since.” I exasperate, flinging my arms in the air. As I do, he looks uncomfortable and moves his body slightly. His eyes are on my knife and I fight the urge to laugh.

He waits a few seconds to see what I’ll do, he doesn’t move until I put the knife back into my pocket. His eyes dart up to my eyes then he says, “I did it to protect you.” Impossible. So stunningly impossible I can’t believe it. I am not able to.

But he cannot lie.

For once I wish he had the ability to.

“You were constantly getting hurt, being threatened. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to offer protection, but I would not allow my true feelings to show. Not allow you to know how I felt.” True feelings? I thought he only knew what anger and hatred were like, in those ways we were the same. He goes on, “After the Under Sea made their move and took you their prisoner, I went mad. I blamed Madoc, then myself, for not protecting you at all.” I want to scream at the memories that surface from the Under Sea.

“I never needed protection. I’m no challenged. I’m a challenge.” I pride myself, almost smiling again. But smiling is hard to do when the person you hate most stands only inches from you.

“When you were brought back to the land, and I saw you, that state you were in, I…” He looks for the words. “Hate was never such a weak word for how I felt. I wanted to rip apart the sea bit by bit. To drain the waters, or freeze it perhaps. To destroy it all whole at least.

They kept you in that dress.” His voice softly breaks. “It didn’t fit you as nearly as it had used to, you were more of a hanger for it. So frail; your rib cage was sticking out too far, as if they never fed you. Which I doubt they did.” He says bitterly. “It completely and utterly destroyed me.” He glares at me. “You destroy me.” Distaste covers his face. “And that was it for me. I was so sick of everything terrible happening to you. Sick of people using you against me.

So I began planning,” He sits up straighter. “I thought of all I could, Jude. Trust me. I want nothing more for you to stay with me. I needed you by my side, especially then. But only one idea was the most reasonable, most effective.” Exile.

Words do not find their way to my mouth.

“I’m truly sorry. You killed my brother and I still cared. I even thought you’d be glad to be sent away to your home, to be rid of ever seeing me again. Then you cried and I acted like it didn’t affect me at all. Acting is very easy when you convince yourself it’s not an act.” I know that, I’ve done it plenty of times.

I take a step back. “Did you know how miserable I was?” I shout. “How horrifying it was to be forced to go back to the home that I witnessed my parents murdered? My memories had never been so frightening. I have never been more terrified in my entire life.

I never got to know them, Cardan! I never got to love them enough. Do you know what I did get?” I yell, not intending for a reply from him. “To know what it’s like to feel absolutely nothing at all,” tears start to fall from my face, I don’t don’t have the strength to wipe them. “I never got to experience what loving was like, to be loved. I never had the chance to be a child.” I cry. “The chance to be human. I’ve never had the chance for anything, my life was fated illy.” I stay quiet a few seconds, then, “I miss them so much, everyday. I think about how I could’ve stopped it. Yelled at my father to stop or to stop my mother. Or hurt Madoc. But I just stood there, not able to do anything.” I choke out. “In the end,” I inhale slowly, trying to steady my breath. “I am always powerless.”

I don’t realize I’ve fallen to the ground, Cardan in front of me, hand cupping my cheek, eyes filled with too much real emotion that I decide not to place. “Don’t touch me.” I swat his hand away and wipe my tears, only to see him crying as well.

Cardan.

Crying.

I’ve always been so delusional.

“Stop it.” I demand. Confusion strikes his devastating face. “You don’t cry. You don’t feel anything at all.”

“You’d be surprised how I feel.” He seethes, wiping his fallen tears.

“Well then,” I say, wiping all emotion from my words. We both stand up, Cardan eyes me suspiciously. I whip out my knife faster than he can detect and push him against the hard wall, blade to his throat. “Give me a reason not to kill you,” I don’t know if I’m begging him or not.

“Oh I have no reason, though, I feel as though I need to tell you something.” I shrug, lacking care. I think.

“It’s too bad I wasn’t planning on keeping you alive either way.” I make a move to cut him-

“I love you.” I jump back immediately, as if he was the one with a knife to my throat. My knife flies into the wall, where his head just was.

Cardan stares endlessly at me. As if he can’t believe his words either.

“No you don’t,” is all I say, all I can say.

“I wouldn’t allow myself have it be true. But when I banished you, the way I felt… I knew. I knew and I thought I was going to die.” I almost laugh. “No, I knew long before that,”

“You’ve found a way to lie.” I say, stunned.

“Oh dear Jude, if I had we would definitely not be having this conversation.”

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dope-squish · 6 years

Text

Programmed And Damned [ RK800 Connor X Reader ] [ Detroit: Become Human ] - Chapter Two - Software Instability

[ We thankfully reached our goal two days earlier than the deadline so good job everyone ] [ Goal - 80 Hearts/Reblogs ] [ GOAL REACHED - CHAPTER THREE POSTED ]

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[ This chapter is dedicated to

@nickangel13 thank you so much for your sweet comment. I appreciate it so much

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@timelizzy21 thank you for reading! I will try to keep this fanfic as interesting as possible :D

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@connorshero this is dedicated to this amazing writer because she's one of my favorite fanfic writers and she deserves the best ouo ][ Also I will be regarding to Connor as he/him because it's quite efficient and calling him "it" throughout the whole story until he deviates is just ... i dunno ]

"What do you have to say about my new appearance, lieutenant?"

Hank heaved out an exasperated and exaggerated sigh, murmured an incoherent complain under his breath and gradually whipped his head around to see whatever the reason Connor was trying to gain his attention only to produce a loud disturbed yelp upon sighting Connor sporting a white oversized shirt imprinted with a tacky logo of some form of anarchy, unbuckled and ripped pants dangerously dipping down from his pelvis, blinding blings encrusted with fake diamonds and of course, the black and white bandana enveloped around his lower face. Hank took a step back away from the prototype, examining him from head to toe. "Jesus, what the fuck are you wearing?" Hank questioned in disdain, disturbed by what he was seeing. No amount of bleach and brainwashing session can erase this nightmare he was seeing. What has been seen cannot be unseen.

Connor was quick to sense this negativity coming from Hank and in order to enlighten him and make an understanding, he answered in an explanation, pulling down his bandana that covered his nose and mouth. "I have thoroughly researched about the participants in these Underground Android Clashes. I learned that most people in there are with multiple criminal records and are considered to be intimidating. The best way to blend in with them and avoid increase of suspicion is to look as intimidating as they are. Hence, after downloading data about intimidation tactics from several trusted websites, I concluded wearing a gangster attire would do it."

"Do you even know what the hell a gangster is?"

"Of course I do. Gangster, a member of an organized group of violent criminals. Gangsters are also a common and popular - though not to an extent as bad boys - trope for authors to use in writing a story." Connor replied. "Do not worry. This will only be a temporary disguise until our investigation in the Clash is over. I don't have any intention to keep this up after. Unless you would rather me in this outfit."

Hank vigorously shook his head in denial. "Hell no! No fucking way am I going in there with you looking like disaster on foot."

Connor tilted his head mildly, pupils dilating out of curiosity. "Then what do you suggest I do? Arriving simply in my uniform will give away our identities in an immediate."

"Just . . . Just wear that shit you always wear but just remove the blazer. Maybe tussle your a little bit and lessen being such a pain in the ass? I don't know. Don't ask anymore stupid questions."

Connor's brows knitted together as he slowly put the puzzle pieces together and formed a correct inquiry. "Are my new clothes making you uncomfortable, liuetenant?"

Hank averted his eyes from Connor's burning stare. If android eyes were upgraded with laser beams, Hank would certainly drop dead with a pair of scorching holes on the back of his head. "They're making my eyes cry blood now get a move on before I change my mind about this case."

Connor is completely aware of Hank's growing disturbance to the sight his newly acquired clothing. Desiring to get in Hank's good side for better communication and work related partnership, he should be doing as told without question and tinge of reluctance but seeing as he was required by CyberLife to attain good and harmonious relation with him, he finds that forming this odd human concept called friendship was a good approach to his side objective. But befriending this spitfire of a man was a lot difficult and was taking unnecessarily longer than what his software is frequently used to. How could he get Hank Anderson - who has a strong and unfaltering hatred for androids - on his good side and havethe mission accomplished in an even more efficient manner? Connor paused for a brief moment to study everything, disregarding the confusion settling itself on Hank's facial expression as he browsed through the internet - how to be friends with a grumpy old man who works for the police force and hates you with all his might? (being specific is mandatory for he needed specific solution). In one website, it says that initiating bantering is a good start to make friends. If said answer is correct, then Hank wouldn't mind.

Connor flashed him what he hoped Hank would consider friendly and inviting, the corners of his lips curving upwards almost painfully. He wore only a light and nearly nonexistent smile but not being used to smiling, his lips cannot accomodate well and he struggled maintaining it. "But lieutenant, I don't see any blood coming out of your eyes."

His pitiful attempt and idea of joking was a little off - most probably completely - and this was his first attempt to do so that it almost made Hank to consider faking his fit of laughter just so Connor wouldn't feel bad.

Who was Hank kidding? Why would Connor feel anything at all? He was an android and it was a known fact that androids don't feel emotions. How pitiful.

"I'm in a neutral mood right now. Don't fuck this up for me." Informed Hank, his stern gaze directed to Connor.

Connor was not at all astonished by Hank's displeasing response to his banter. From the very beginning as he was conjuring up his plan, the probability of his success was lower than five percent but he thought it wouldn't hurt (not like anything will) to try. With an obedient nod, Connor quipped, "I'll go get changed."

***

After briefly dropping by Cherry Downtown Bar (courtesy of Hank stubbornly refusing to make any sort of progress in their investigation without consuming an alarming amount of liquor to keep him up and going), prototype RK800 Connor and lieutenant Hank Anderson presently stood right before an abandoned candy factory where broken window, neglected equipments and several layers of dust collected in the years were the only things visible in any entities' vision. Aforementioned factory was formerly used to make sweets such as lollipops, gumballs and bubblegums but upon being rat out by one of its own concerned and guilt ridden employee that they have been secretly slipping in red ice in certain candies for notorious drug dealing syndicates from all over the world, they were immediately shut down and the manufacturers, along with their partners in business, were put on custody and were to remain behind bars for thirty years.

Connor cautiously surveys the area with his enhances pupils and his brows connected with one another, perfectly mirroring an arch. "Lieutenant," Connor calls out as Hank advance forward to the metal door undoubtedly leading to the location of the arena. "I have a bad . . ." At this, Connor trailed off in uncertainty as he ponders over a better substitute rather than typically using the term feeling. ". . . suspicion about this Clash.

Hank scoffed at his spoken words, eyes flickering away from the door and to the android detective. "Are you chickening out now?" He bellows. "I postponed my drinking for this shit."

Connor shakes his head in a vigorous manner, the stray lock of hair over his forehead bobbing along with his motion. "No, I am not chickening out, as you say. I am merely expressing my concern for this case we're investigating."

Hank nodded absently as he lifted his right fist up in the air and rapped his knucles on the metal door a few times. Connor stood awkwardly behind him like an obedient android rookie some deemed as, spine perfectly straight and hands behind his back, his coin effortlessly and smoothly rolling on his fingers. It didn't take long before a perfectly proportioned male - roughly around the age of late twenties - slide the door to the side in the slightest bit, only revealing to them half of his eccentric tattoed face and partly shaved head on the left.

[ Name - Lucas Gray

Age - 27

Criminal Record/s - Drug abuse ]

Lucas snarled at the sight of the old man and his android, irritation etching on his face. "Move your ass, you have no business here."

Lucas Gray motioned to shut the door right before them but Hank - regardless of his old age - reacted swiftly. Just as their only passage inside was to close, Hank wedged his foot within the gap, efficiently disabling Lucas to do as he earlier pleased. Said male glowered at Hank, the annoyance glossing over his eyes intensifying. "Damn right I have some business here." And with that, Hank pointed behind him - right at Connor whose look could only be described as perplexed - with the use of his thumb. "I have some fresh blue blood here."

Lucas momentarily paused his movements to examine the both of them and from his calculations and the way the man was knitting his eyebrows together, Connor knew he was to let them in sooner or later. Not that Lucas trusted them - no, no - but because of what Hank had stated earlier. From the acquired information about these Clashes two years ago, mentioning blue blood to the bouncer is basically the password to enter the abandoned factory and to the Clashes. One would think the people behind the construction of Underground Android Clashes would be brilliant enough to alter the password every now and then to secure their secret, but then again, who had time to change passwords when all people really want was to watch androids tear their own species?

Producing a disgruntled grunt, Lucas retreated a few steps back in order to pull the door wider to give them a way to enter. Heeding no instruction, Connor automatically followed Hank's footsteps, politely acknowledging the bouncer with a firm nod to which the latter rolled his eyes at in response. "Good fucking luck with the Clash," He murmured gruffly as they passed by his towering figure before shutting and locking the door behind them. "You're gonna need it."

Connor halted in his footsteps as his programming instantly took the precious liberty to correct Lucas. He surfed through multiple websites for the scientific and realistic meaning of the term luck but found no such luck (Connor's LED turned yellow for a split second at the realization he somehow managed to conjure up a pun, as humans call it). Whirling around, Connor speaks, "There is no such thing as luck. It is nonexistent. Life is merely a series of probability."

Connor's lips desired to provide more information about the concept of luck but was rendered silent upon noticing Lucas glare over at his direction, hands curling and lips contorting to an ugly scowl. Before an argument could arise and possibly jeapordize the whole investigation, Hank grabbed Connor by the back of his collar and carelessly dragged him away from Lucas, distantly telling the man, "Sorry about this one! I think it's mentally challenged as an android!"

Connor instantly perked up at this. Once Lucas' interest on them diverted, Connor questions, "I haven't heard of a mentally challenged android before. Is there such thing now? Did CyberLife create a new kind of android? I am unaware of this."

Hank looked back at him, releasing the fabric from his hold. "There is one now."

Perplexed from the unfolded information, Connor leaned forward. "Really? Where is it? Is the public already aware of this new android?" He asked with an innocence of a child, painfully oblivious to the underlying message Hank was trying to relay to him.

Hank gawked at him with incredulousness glimmering in his eyes before shaking his hear in disbelief, sighing defeatedly. "Nothing, nothing, just forget about it. That's not what we're here for anyways."

Connor's software erased all remaining interest on the false information of a newly created android and highlighted his main objective - the exact reason why they even found themselves inside a malodorous and unsanitary factory. His fingers subconciously surfaced to fasten his tie but stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he recalled he had left his suit jacket and tie in the police car at Hank's request - more like demand. He involuntarily twitched at the sudden change.

Hank narrowed his eyes suspiciously upon having caught on Connor's involuntary movement. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing to be of your concern, lieutenant." Connor responded to his quiry as smoothly as he can as he generated his software to momentarily adapt to the lack of suit jacket and tie. Thankfully, his coin was not confiscated inside the police car. "Come on, we must continue with the case. Every second counts."

They ventured further into the corridor where horrendously ugly (save for some who actually had some sense of artistry in them), gruesome, sentimental, gothic and lewd graffiti drawn all over the walls, overlapping one another. There were damp cartons filled to the brim with tissue papers, half empty bottles of liquor scattered all over the place with a few shredded advertisments for the Eden Club and purchase of red ice. The place held pungent stench that could make humans wrench in disgust. Connor was mildly impressed Hank maintained a neutral calmness inside a chaotic place like this. He had formerly thought he'd unpleasingly react to the state of the factory.

"What a fucking mess. What did I expect from these people, honestly? My place looks like paradise compared to this. At least I use air freshener." Hank commented as he cast his gaze around, clumsily stumbling a few times as he comes across a few empty bottles. "Hell I can't wait to get out of here."

Nevermind. Connor thought.

Reaching the end of the corridor where a dim light resonated and obnoxious cheering from the people came, they were met by a drunkenly staggering man holding onto the walls for balance, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and red bloodshot eyes which only Connor could guess was caused by guzzling red ice. "Outta my way, pricks." He slurred in a pathetic attempt of trying to sound menacing as Connor and Hank parted to make way for him.

The man struggled along the way as he tried to approach the exit, occasionally crashing on the obstacles along the way. Connor could only watch him in interest. "Do you think he'll return to his residency safely?" Asks Connor and turns to regard Hank. "His car keys are dangling from his belt; he obviously owns a car and it is also quite obvious he is in no condition to drive."

Dismissively, Hank waved his hand. "Bah, just forget about him. A little incident won't hurt anyone. It'll teach him a valuable lesson when he can't learn the easy way."

"But wouldn't he sustain grave injuries if this little turns out to be huge? Or the worse outcome yet - death."

"Depends on how stupid that man is. Let's just hope he's too drunk to even get to his car and pass out on the way." Hank spared a glance at the intoxicated man and jeered as he saw him plummet to the carton of tissues, a curse leaving his lips. "Look at him, I bet he can't even tell the difference between water and tissue papers."

What greeted them as they both entered the main area of the factory was expected. The corridor gave them enough hints. Hollering humans cheering for their android of choice with either betting cash or alcohol in their hands, trashes of all sorts spreading out like an ocean, grease and other stains of unidentified liquid tainting the whole place - this site was one step behind from being a junkyard. From below the upper bleachers, the arena stood proudly.

[ SOFTWARE INSTABLITY ^^^ ]

He took one insignificant step within the premises of the main area when his software instability began drastically increasing with no particular source. With burrowed eyebrows, Connor intently studied these anomalous pop ups perched precariously on his peripheral vision like an annoying insect latching in spoiled food to feast upon. His LED colored itself yellow and red, flickering from time to time as he ran an analysis on his software but alas, no peculiarity was discovered.

He was in perfectly good condition - too perfect in actuality - so there was no reasonable explanation as to why these warning were appearing out of the blue. Not only that but the accelerating thrumming of his thirium pump vibrated against his chest - something he had never encountered before in his existence.

Hank strode a few good meters away from Connor and rested his right arm on the cold metal railing, his upper body leaning forward to get a closer inspection on the arena. As to not inject anymore irritation directed to him, Connor instantly went after him and stood next to him, securely evading all obstacles along the way. Hank snorted, eyes trained on the arena and the six androids circling around it right in front of metals doors, generously far from each other. "Seems like we got here right on time. The Clash will probably start in five minutes or so." He informed and a grimace formed on his face. "What the fuck is that man doing to that android?"

Connor cast his gaze downwards, to where Hank was directing his line of sight and located an aggresive man leering down on his fear stricken android as though it was dirt on the sole of his shoe.

It didn't take Connor a second to deduce the android was not normal as it seems. "It's deviant," Pointed out Connor, his left hand over the railing.

Hank sent him a glimpse. "What?"

Using his index finger, Connor aimed his finger at the android. "The android there is a deviant. As you already know, android don't feel emotions. But deviants do. And that android there is clearly showing signs of intense fear."

Hank nodded and returned his sight on the newly appointed deviant in Connor's perspective. Connor could hear Hank saying something, commenting something unfavorable about how the man was treating the android (why would he be concerned for an artificial human?) but it was an undurable pull that caused him to neglect Hank. His steadfast posture wavered in the slightest as his form was forced to move by this mysterious pull of nature and he soon found himself facing a particular direction a little further away from the human and his android turned deviant.

It was an android - how common. [ Hair Color ] [ Hair Length ], [ Eye Color ], and did he mention it was an android? Now upon observation, nothing about it was out of the ordinary nor was there anything special about it. If ever asked why it somewhat stood out amongst the other androids participating in the Clash, Connor will simply reply it was because of its unfaltering and intimidating stance, a total contrast to the other androids who merely stood motionless with a blank visage. Probably in normal circumstances, he wouldn't have spared a single glance at its direction. Hell, he wouldn't even learn of its existence until the Clash begins. The only reason he set his eyes in it was because it seems to be the sole source of his increasing instability in his software, LED shinning red, and thirium pump palpitating.

There must be a malfunction I cannot detect. Or this android did something to me.

[ NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE ]

A quiet gasp tumbled from his lips. How can there be no information about this androi - "Connor?"

Connor's body twitched. He wanted to respond to Hank's voice, to heed his superior, to obediently follow with no speck of defiance the orders programmed in his software by CyberLife but as the saying goes, expect the unexpected - for the first time in his existence, Connor refused to listen to his instructions.

Connor's LED turned yellow in frustration. He lost count of how many times he scanned the said android and every time he got the same result. Who is that android?

And what makes it so special, so excluded from the others, that it caused him to disobey CyberLife?

His question was answered when he came into gradual realization that the android was staring at him, its pair of [ Eye Color ] eyes fixated on him like it was studying him, admiring him. Connor's jaw dropped - It wasn't the most beautiful android in Detroit, its features were plain and common among humans, but why was he so stunned, so fascinated by this android?

[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^ ]

***

Stop. Just stop. Please just stop this nonsense.

[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

Regardless of your extremely futile attempts to at least postpone the pop ups of your system errors - you hated the thought that they might be the reason to your defeat, if ever - it continously reappeared at the side of your vision. Your LED whirred and turned red in alarm.

Six minutes had already passed by after breaking the accidental eye contact you initiated yet you can still recognize the smoldering gaze of the peculiar android suited at the upper bleachers of the factory on your figure, intently studying whatever little motion your body spared. Uncomfortable was an understatement if you were to describe the situation you found yourself in. It wasn't helping that your body was turning against you with your thirium pump distastely thudding against your chest, LED flickering from red and yellow (make up your damn mind) and most especially the system errors practically taking up all the space of your peripheral vision.

"Hello there, our dear Clashers! How are you all today?" You were roused back from your deep reverie and to reality once the booming voice of the emcee blasted from the speakers as she spoke through her held microphone. The emcee wore an overly sweet smile that could shame the former purpose of the abandoned factoryand matching its disgusying smile was an overly sweet, unnecessary and try hard set of makeup caking her face. If you were a lesser android, you would have reprimanded her for trying to mimic a coloring book. With an overflowing amount of confidence practially oozing from her, she sported a skimpy pink and green floral dress that left nothing else for the wild imagination of the men residing in the bleachers and flawlessly rocked a pair of six inched black pumps and dangling fake diamond earrings. Her dyed raven hair was combed in an elegant updo and her eyes glistened with mischief and delight as the crowd roared in thrill at the sight of her. She posed seductively in the middle of the area, legs apart and a slender hand on her hip. "Another evening, another Clash and you know what that means? Another set of useless and weak androids are nearing their tombs! Or rather, in their case, the andriod junkyard heaven!"

Her poor joke garnered her an outstanding fits of laughter generously given by her admirers in the abandoned factory that she had tom call them out several times before they were silenced. You cannot help but have puzzlement arise inside your system. The joke wasn't that humorous and you have mosh certainy heard betters ones yet somehow, the majority of the humans within the factory laughed at the emcee's quip. How come is that? "Okay, okay, enough of that," The emcee bellows and lets out a childish and feminine giggle. "Now, how about we greet our androids for the night?"

On cue to her rhetorical question, the metal doors opened right before your eyes and without a second of hesitation, you advanced within the interior of the arena. The exact moment your stepped foot in the arena, you disregarded all external and internal distraction but the the unsettling stare of the android from the bleachers remained, though more bearable as you successfully focused yourself on your current objective - to eliminate all threat to your victory. The other androids mirrored your movements with the same lacking amount of hesitation, excluding the android turned deviant which cowered as it remained outside, refusing to enter the arena in fear of its death.

"Get in there!" Edwin Williams demanded to his android, teeth gritting and hot air exhaled throigh his nostrils.

The terrified deviant shook its head, its feet taking steps back. "I-I don't wanna die in there,"

"Oh for fuck sake," The owner ascended the small staircase leading to the arena and shoved his android inside, not giving a second thoigh about its emotional condition. The deviant tumbled down on the cold cement but instantenously got back up on its feet to escape but the moment he stood, the metal doors had already shut, locking it in its death bed. It begged for its freedom and rapped its knuckles on the wired walls to get anyone's attention but all it got were insults, humiliation and shame.

"And now," Begins the emcee as she pauses for tension, "Let us acknowledge the reigning champion of the Android Clashes for two straight years - give it up for Anonymous!" A wave of cheers mixed in with the boos greeted your owner, Ruth Judge, as he raised his fist in greeting to the people.

"And how can we forget his undefeated legendary of an android!m? Our very own combat android of the century!" The emcee gesticulates to you and as expected, you received the same reaction from the crowd.

"Don't let that shit of an android beat you!" Edwin violently slammed his hands againt the wired walls of the arena, teeth snapping. "Kill it!"

Slowly, the quivering, fear controlled deviant turned to your direction, eyes pleading and cheeks tinged blue. "Please," It whimpered pathetically. "Don't hurt me."

You gaped at it. Never had any android pleaded for its life, they mostly took their defeat without a word so as the deviant stared at you with teary eyes, pleaded for your mercy, you found no backup step by step instructions on what to do in this kind of situation so you settled by averting your gaze from it. The dilation of your pupils was far from evident but still it was there, mocking you for carelessly letting the android's plea get muddle with your system - [ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]

"Now," The emcee twirls around with her hands in the air and strikes an idol like posing. "Let this android Clash begin!"

don't forget to click the heart button, reblog button and share this fanfic! wanna make a fanart or soundtrack for the fanfic? feel free to do so! please make sure to send them to me so i can post them on the next chapters so they can be appreciated [•^•].

#dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #rk800 #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #dbh kara #dbh markus #dbh hank anderson #hank anderson #androids #deviants #slowburn #connor rk800 x reader

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