#the t-pose for this model has them staring straight at the ground and i thought about an extra angle for that but it just would've been the

[front-facing-pokemon]

[brandstifter-sys]

Batter Up

@dukexietyweek​ Day 5 - School 

Word Count: 2680                (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Patton

Rating: T

Warnings: mild innuendo

Virgil used to play softball before coming out and moving in with his brother. In this new school he doesn't touch sports, except for gym class and watching the baseball team practice, for artistic reasons, and because he has a crush on one of the players, Remus. But one day after accidentally breaking a bat and Remus' windshield in gym, Virgil gets a surprising offer from Remus, to show him a thing or two about the sport. Virgil tries to play dumb about the game and breaking the windshield just to get this kind of time with Remus, but who's to say Remus isn't trying the exact same thing to get closer to the shy emo?

---

No one seemed to think he would be capable of any great physical feat, but he didn't like to put himself out there so he couldn't blame them. Virgil was just glad that no one he particularly cared about was in his gym class.

"Oh shit," he grumbled under his breath, holding the dented metal bat in both hands. Everyone else was staring off in the distance, watching the arc of the baseball he gutted fall in the distance.

"Virgil, have you ever played on a team before?" Coach Patton asked from the mound. Virgil shook his head and shied away from the fresh-out-of-college teacher. It was a lie but he was not about to admit he played softball before he moved to this town with his brother.

"Well you have a knack for it! If you want to join the team, let me know!" Patton chuckled and pulled another ball from his pocket, "But I need you to go back inside to switch out that bat."

Virgil had never been happier to get away from class than in that moment. The ball landed in the parking lot and set off a car alarm. His classmates were starting to stare. He carried his shame across the lawn and into the gym, grateful he didn't get drafted or scolded. He didn't need that attention from anyone, ever.

Almost anyone.

Virgil could admit he liked watching the school team practicing, judging their stances and strategies from behind the bleachers. He had no problem with sketching the players in action, it was great practice, but one always stood out. Remigio Alesini, or Remus as he preferred. He wanted to catch Remus' attention.

Virgil couldn't help but notice him—he was loud, proud, and had a unique way of moving. That and he was weirdly charming, sweet and vile, a chaotic blend of energy in a handsome meat suit. He was smart, strong, kind, and he had a lot of friends. Virgil hated having a crush on him of all people.

Rather than dwell on the guy who had to repeat kindergarten and wasn’t in his gym class, Virgil flicked on the lights in the supply room and sought out a new bat, hoping that his unofficial home run wasn't the hot topic still. He would be surprised at how long it would haunt him.

---

It was after hours and Virgil was behind the bleachers, sketch pad out and pencil ready. He was working on a more detailed sketch of Remus and wanted another look at those bright features. But as the team finished running laps, Virgil caught sight of Remus' concerned expression.

"Hey Ree, what's doin'?" one of his teammates asked as they gathered their equipment.

"My windshield has a wad of ball guts jammed into it, it's not a big deal but whichever one of you chuckle fucks did it is gonna pay!" Remus laughed, and laughed harder and at the teammate's expression—sheer terror. Virgil was twice as terrified.

"Can't get your crush with a busted windshield?" a different teammate, Remy, jeered.

"You still have the hots for his brother, you have no room to talk!" Remus grinned, "Especially when you're dating my brother!"

"Alright boys and non-binary sluggers," Coach Patton said as he approached the dugout, "Save the chatter for later, we have to be ready for the game on Friday! Get in the field and have a catch while I set up the bags!"

"But we were talking about Ree's busted windshield!" Dave, the shortstop with a wild mop of hair and glasses, countered.

"So that's the car that got hit!" Patton mused. Virgil froze and prayed Patton would keep his mouth shut. He did not want Remus to be pissed off at him, or the rest of the team, but unlike them, Remus mattered to him.

"Who did it? When did it happen?"

"It was during one of my gym classes today, and I was stunned! I don't think I ever saw anyone do that in real time! He was just as shocked, I think!"

"Who was he?" Remy pressed.

"That's not important right now, it's baseball time!" Patton said, "Now go partner up!"

Virgil sighed in relief as the team split up to practice. Patton could keep quiet so he could get back to drawing.

About an hour and a half later, he was adding detail to a sketch of Remus when he was batting. Each curve had to be precise, all the proportions correct, the energy in the pose perfect before he could add those eyes and that smirk. He didn't even realize that the majority of the team was gone.

"Hey there!" Remus greeted him from behind, making Virgil jolt and clutch his sketchbook to his chest.

"Easy! Sorry for spooking you!" Remus chuckled, "Thought you might want to get out of here since all the models are gone—except me, but I don't mind modeling for you in a more private setting!" He winked, getting Virgil to turn red.

"I don't draw nudes, if that's what you're thinking," Virgil grumbled, wishing he could disintegrate on the spot. Remus beamed, his cheeks taking on a pink hue.

"Now I'm thinking about it! But I get the impression you're looking for some dynamic poses that require clothes—or you really like baseball!"

"I mean, yeah, both, but it's not a big deal. Shouldn't you be with your team?"

"Nope! They trust the gym showers and I don't! Besides, I've been meaning to talk to you since you're always here!"

"I can go if it's a proble—"

"No! It's cool!" Remus cut him off quickly, "I'd like to see what you're drawing if that's cool, and if not maybe I could show you some stuff like using a glove or batting since they're doing baseball in gym and stuff!" He was grinning like crazy and Virgil was sure his heart was going to explode. This was the perfect opportunity to get close without too much risk. He just had to play dumb to get the most out of this one-time chance.

"If you want to, you can show me some stuff, but you don't have to," Virgil shrugged and rubbed his neck shyly.

"I want to show you a lot of stuff, Virge, but let's stick with baseball!" Remus giggled and took Virgil's hand, internally screaming when the emo decided to hold it and get up.

"You can show me other stuff another time," Virgil grumbled and prayed he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

"Only with permission!" Remus laughed, a genuinely amused kind of laugh, and dragged Virgil onto the field towards the dugouts.

"So, uh, what are you showing me?" Virgil stammered, kicking himself for being so timid. Remus didn't seem to notice it, or at least he didn't acknowledge it.

"Well I was thinking about showing you how to throw, maybe pitch, and then how to hold a bat! But if there's anything you want me to show you, I can! As long as it's not too illegal—I'm not about to expose a minor to—"

"I'm eighteen. Try again," Virgil cut him off and scowled. He was baby-faced, sure, but that didn't mean he was that young. He frowned at Remus, who was digging through a storage box by the home team dugout.

"There's still other kids on school grounds! You're not stuck here alone with me!" Remus jeered and pulled out a mitt. He tossed it to Virgil and grabbed a ball.

"You know how to put that on, right?" Remus teased as Virgil stared at the mitt. He knew that he was not holding a standard glove, it was a catcher's mitt, but if he said anything, Remus might catch on that he knew far too much to need this.

"No, it's not like I have to use one in gym class," Virgil retorted wryly—he was not about to play that dumb. Remus giggled and moseyed to the dugout bench and grabbed his own glove.

"Did they teach you how to catch a ball without getting hurt?"

"Yeah, use the mit like a scoop and try to catch with the webbing between the thumb and fingers. Unless that's wrong," Virgil answered. Remus smiled at him and nodded.

"I guess Patton taught you guys how to throw too. Good. Those are the most important parts of the game!"

"I guess they are," Virgil mumbled. He hadn't really thought about it. He was too preoccupied with keeping his eyes away from Remus and not staring too long. He heard Remus jog a short distance and glanced up to see him standing on the pitcher’s mound, his glove at the ready.

“Toss it here!” Remus called, bouncing on his heels, ready to dive if Virgil’s aim was off. Virgil relaxed his shoulders and planted his feet before rearing his arm back and snapping it forward, flinging the ball into Remus’ glove without much struggle. He paled when Remus cheered and ran to him.

“Okay! Pat taught you well! And my god you have a great arm! Since I don’t have to show you the basics, wanna learn to pitch? I’m usually third base, but I can cover the mound in a pinch so I’m not talking out my ass!”

“Shit spews from both ends?” Virgil scoffed, immediately regretting it. Remus just laughed, like a hyena.

“Now that’s the kind of spunk Remy wishes he had! C’mon, I’ll show you the technique and you can show me what you got!” Remus said and dragged Virgil to the mound leaving no room for argument.

“Alright so the first thing is your stance, you gotta stand with your side kinda pointed at the plate, whichever side you have the glove on,” Remus explained and stood on the mound, mimicking his own instructions, “Keep your feet shoulder width apart and your body straight, putting your weight on your back foot. Then you bring both your arms in front of you and in one motion and lift your front leg so it’s parallel to the ground, like this. And then you’ll bring that leg down in a wide step with your toes pointed at the plate, keeping your body facing either first or third base, and your arms up about shoulder height with the back one bent upward by the time your foot meets the ground. And you’re gonna push off with your back leg to get some real power as you throw, and you want to follow through, leaning over your front leg to really drive that ball home.” He repeated all the steps in one swift motion and hurled the ball over home plate, and into the fence behind it.  

Virgil was stunned, and he wasn’t going to tell Remus it was because his form was so bad but the throw was decent. Remus could live thinking he just impressed Virgil, he looked like he just won the biggest prize at a rigged carnival game, happy and flushed as he fetched the ball.

Virgil was less stunned and more startled when that ball came straight for him. He caught it without getting hurt but he would have liked some warning!

“Nice catch!” Remus beamed and ran over to him, dragging him to the pitcher’s mound, “Now you try!” He stepped back to give Virgil room and watched with interest as the emo took a deep breath and glared at the plate.

It was like second nature, he rocked his foot back and turned his other foot into the rubber pivot to keep from sliding. He reared his leg up and snapped forward, shifting his weight and moving his hips before his shoulders, lobbing the ball into the same fence, with more force behind his throw than Remus expected.

“Holy shit! That was awesome Virge! Do you always wear the hoodie to hide those arms? They’re probably so distracting!” Remus said and wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders, “Oh yeah, you’re hiding some serious muscle under that hoodie! Lemme get you set to use them on the offensive!”

“You mean—?” Virgil muttered, willing away his blush and any latent feelings bubbling in his stomach. Remus was touching him and praising him, how was he supposed to keep his mind from racing?

“Batting! I won’t throw anything at you, but a good stance is important too! Hold that thought!” Remus giggled and took his glove. He skipped to the dugout box and swapped the glove for a bat. The same bat Virgil had to bring out earlier during gym class. He should have been more disturbed by it, but he was still a little put off enough to remember that he was the reason Remus would have to get a new windshield.

Remus dragged him to the plate and thrust the bat into his hands with a cheeky grin.

Virgil was weak in the knees, resting the bat on his shoulder as he tried not to think about Remus complimenting him over and over or that he accidentally cost Remus a trip to the mechanic. He wanted to believe there was something more there, like he wanted to pass out and not wake up.

"Alright, first," Remus said and placed his hands on Virgil's shoulders, "your footing is important," he nudged Virgil's feet into position with his own, pressing against his back, "they should be parallel like this."

"Oh—okay, um," Virgil winced. He couldn't have been that nervous! But when Remus slid his hands down his arms to his hands, Virgil wondered why he wasn't more nervous. That touch was far too gentle, almost reverent.

"You want to choke up on the bat more, like this—" he guided Virgil's hands on the bat, and didn't let go, "—and lift it off your shoulder." His breath was tickling Virgil's neck and Virgil could feel how close he was.

"Now bend your knees a bit and stick out your ass, and you'll be able to break my windshield again."

Virgil's breath caught in his throat and he dropped the bat. He was dead meat and his heart was racing.

"I—I–I'm sorry," he stammered, on the verge of tears. Remus hugged him and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"It was an accident. I'm not mad. I'm impressed! Coach told me all about it! And I thought you couldn't get any hotter!"

"What?"

"You're hot as hell and you gave me an excuse to talk to you, see how much skill you have, and ask you out!"

"Remus?"

"I've had a crush on you since freshman year! My god you have no idea how much of a spaz I was whenever I thought about you! Roman lost his shit I was so sappy and annoying! And that's saying something! I got over the craziness sorta but yeah I like you a lot!"

"Even if I—" Virgil winced and tried to keep from touching his binder.

"Even if you're not cis! You're you and I like that! So now you know what you're getting into if you agree to go to the movies with me since you busted up my car!"

"Can we get water ice and hang out instead?" Virgil asked and turned around in Remus' loose hold.

"I mean I wouldn't have the same chance to make out with you in the dark, but I like that idea!" he giggled.

"I could still kiss you if you want."

"Even if I want it right now?"

"Yeah," Virgil said and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, “but if you have time after the water ice, we can watch Zombieland at my place with the lights out.”

“That’s a dangerous compromise,” Remus giggled, his face a lovely cherry shade.

“If you try anything too crazy, I’ll show you how I really use a bat,” Virgil countered, only to have Remus pull him close and hug him while he bounced on his heels. It was hard to tell who was happier when Virgil hugged back. It was probably the coach watching the pair from a safe distance away. It was nice to see those kiddos finally getting together!

[some-dr-writings]

Kokichi, Hajime and Akane x Prince like Male S/O

Kokichi Oma:

·       You took your sweet time closing up shop that night. As much as you cared for your employees, at times it was nice to just be alone with nothing but the pitter-patter of rain to keep you company. After wiping off that last glass you sighed, placing it back on the shelf. It was time to go. Still you did one last walk around, making sure the ovens, grills, burners were turned off, the wines, sprites, juices and other drinks were in their places on the shelf behind the bar or in the refrigerator below, that every last table and chair was dusted off, and last but not least that beloved piano still tuned before taking your long coat and umbrella from the rack by the door and taking your leave.

·       It was a cold night to be sure as the rain came pouring down and the wind ran about. If you didn’t know any better, you would have sworn it was hailing by the sound of how hard those droplets crashed onto the ground. You shivered and chattered, huddling into your coat. One could likely get sick simply standing out here you thought to yourself picking up your pace. You hoped your employees were able to get to their homes quickly and safely in this downpour, perhaps you should have sent them away even earlier than you had. Though it seemed you were not the only one having similar thoughts, a figure just up ahead on the path sprinting along. A-and they tripped!?

·       You cradled the person close having caught them from their fall, wanting to give them some semblance of balance. “Goodness you’re soaked to the bone! You’ll catch your death of cold! Here, my pub is just up this street. Please come and dry yourself off. I don’t care how close your destination may be, you need to dry off now.” And so, still holding them close you dragged them to your bar. Upon entering the establishment, you immediately took them to the kitchen placing them before an oven, opening it and turning it on. “Wait here a moment while I get you a towel and some extra clothes.”

·       You rushed back as quickly as you could fearing the person being cold and wet for even a moment longer. “I apologize if these don’t fit. I currently only have one extra set of clothes due to the others getting spilled on, but hopefully we can me these wor-” So preoccupied with trying to be of assistance only now as you approached did you get a good look at your charge. “Kokichi!?” Aghast the man placed a hand over his heart, just starting at you in exaggerated shock. “What!? My own boyfriend only recognized me now!? How could you! I guess you had forgotten all about me!” Dramatically he began walking for the door that led back to the dining area, making exaggerated poses as he did so. “Ko-” “No, don’t say anything! I know when I’m not wanted! I’ll just be on my way!” “NO!” A ‘Nishishi’ escaped Kokichi as you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around him, clutching him closely. “I didn’t think to see who you were. I just knew you were in trouble and needed help. Please don’t leave! Not at least till you’re dried off. After you can stay mad as long as you want.” He so brightly smiled, hugging you back, getting you wet. “Ok! But only because I know you mean well!” You gently pushed him away back to the warming oven, and went about picking up the towel, white button-up shirt, and black pants off the ground, placing them on the counter. “Please dry yourself and change out of those clothes. As for the wet ones… turn off and close the oven and drape them over the oven handle for now. We can talk after.”

·       Leaving the kitchen, you shook your head wondering why your partner was out so late, well, very early morning now, but still. You knew pranks were the man’s lifeblood but doing so in such weather was simply ridiculous. As much as you loved him, it seemed to be it was not often you heart could be at ease. You were always fretting over him or being so excited with him. Though… you couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it, there were just times where you wished for more peace with him. These thoughts drifted though your head as you milled around behind the bar, taking bottles off the shelves, and going about making your concoctions.

·       “Aww~ Thank you.” Kokichi stood on a seat before the bar, leaning over it giving you a kiss on the cheek before eagerly taking the hot steaming mug of hot cocoa. “No need for thanks. Your smile is enough for me.” With that said you took a sip of your amoretto sour minus the amaretto before going to cleaning the puddles and… flower petals and bouquet from the floor? You kneeled down, picking up one. “What are these doing here?” “Well…” Kokichi trotted to it, tenderly holding it close for a moment before presenting the wilting, drowning flowers to you. “Happy anniversary?” “Oh, Kokichi… I have nothing to gift you! Well, I do, but it’s back at my place, and NO, we are not going out to get it right now!” Kokichi scoffed at your words, already telling him to not bolt out the door before he could even entertain you with the idea. You so gently took the flowers, examining each and every last bloom. “Thank you so much, Kokichi.” “… But they’re destroyed!” “Maybe so, but you still took the time to even think to do this, let alone picking these out, getting them, and coming to give them to me at midnight, as early as you could, even braving the storm for me. Even just the thought means so much to me. You took the time to think of me, which means the world, especially for someone as loving as you.” Kokichi just stared at you for a moment, as if unsure how to take in your words. “Wow… you need to raise your standards, Love! Demand more from me, not just this!” “Oh? This coming from the man who’d do anything to get his crush to simply think of him and find that to be enough?” A light blush dusted Kokichi’s cheeks and he quietly giggled, recalling those early days where he’d threaten you, or pull pranks on you, or just do anything to garner your attention for even a moment. This was just one of the many things he loved about you, even back then you told him how you appreciated all the time he placed into pulling pranks on you, because of all the time and effort he had placed onto solely you. You always so appreciated the efforts of others, and never let even the smallest thing go unnoticed and make everyone feel special. “Besides if my standards weren’t so low as you’d put it, I’d never have chosen to be with you.” “… Wait, what?” That chuckled bubbled up from you, simply unable to contain it. “I jest, I jest, but I could not resist taking that shot, you practically walked into that one. Have you caught a cold already? It’s unlike you to get played so easily.” You were confused, Kokichi having placed his hands on your cheeks. “I love you.” “I love you too.”

·       You lifted up Kokichi bridal style, humming and swaying as you strolled over to the piano. “Come, let us get lost till the rain lightens up.” As you played Kokichi sang, making up lyrics no matter how nonsensical or off key. Perhaps it was nice to have more company than just the sound of rain, after all, you could imagine no sound lovelier than the joy in your boyfriend’s voice.

    Hajime Hinata:

·       “Uh, excuse me, sorry to be a bother but I need your help again.” “No need to apologize, I’d be more than glad to be of assistance.” Though true, your shift had technically ended half an hour ago so you just wanted to take your leave, yet this customer seemed to not be able to go a few minuets without assistance… and you already knew they wouldn’t accept help from anyone else. “What might you need help with?” You kept your posture straight, hands holding one another as you listened. “I can’t reach the clothes up there.” They pointed towards the T-shirts that were hung towards the ceiling.” “I see, allow me a moment to find the hook.” You immediately made your way for where the long hook should have been laying against the wall, and yet… “Hmm, not here.” “Is something wrong?” “I apologize, it seems the hook is missing, I’ll have to look at a different section for one. I will be but a moment.” “Oh, that’s alright. Just take your time.”

·       And it started again. “You’re like, really cute though. You could be a model.” “Ah, thank you. I do try to stay fit, but the credit must go to my parents. They’re such lovely, beautiful people.” “Oh, you work out?” They hugged your arm, pulling themselves much too close for comfort, pressing their body against it. “I’ve been meaning to get into shape. Maybe you could give me some pointers?” “I can give you some assistance, but I’m sure the trainers at the gym would be better than I, after all, everything I know, I learned from them, and I’m sure their knowledge on the subject far surpasses mine. Truthfully, not being an expert, I’d be scared of explaining something wrong and accidentally getting you hurt.” “Aww~ You’re such a sweetie!”

·       If you weren’t at work, you would have asked this person to let you go by now. You loved being kind and respecting others, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know how to stand up for yourself, but this was work, you can’t upset the customers, and though you shouldn’t be, you were technically still working.

·       “Even in this uniform you accessorize well, I’m sure you’d look so handsome all dolled up for a date. I’d just LOVE to see that.” Though they were tracing your watch they just kept staring at you with moony eyes. “My watch…” Their eyes sparkled seeing how you so tenderly smiled, before lifting up you hand. You softly sighed, running your fingers across the face for a moment. “Then you should compliment my boyfriend. He’s the one who gave it to me.” “… oh, boyfriend.” “Yeah! I can’t go anywhere without it. Well, I suppose I could, but I would never wish it. No matter how far or how long we are apart, I may keep this close to remind me of him. I can even count down the seconds till I reunite with him. He is truly an amazing man, so smart, so kind, he has this uncanny ability to be able to befriend just about anyone and he’s so emotionally intelligent, being able to tell when someone is hurting, no matter how much they try to mask it, and he helps them. When I first met him, I knew he was special! Or it was just love at first sight.” You sheepishly chuckled as a heat rose on your cheeks. “Ah, I was such a stammering mess when I tried asking him out, he didn’t even know what I was saying at first. It… took a few days before he figured out what I had been trying to ask him. It was rather comical how he came running for me, tripping over himself, telling me he liked me to! The blush on his cheeks and his flustered demeanor was just so adorable as he asked me for a date and apologized for no-”

·       “Y/N!” “Hajime!” There behind you but a few paces away your boyfriend stood. “Yes, he looked just like that when he asked me out.” Hajime took a deep breath trying to calm his nerves and wash away the embarrassment he felt causing his heart to race. “Uh, your shift ended half an hour ago, but you still hadn’t come out. Are you getting overtime?” “Oh no! No, I’m sorry. I was just going to be of assistance one last time before returning to you. I’ll be but a moment, Love. Feel free to wait at the café next door, aright? I don’t want you going hungry and as an apology I’ll pay when I get there. Get anything you like!” You merrily skipped along, not even noticing that the customer had let go of your arm, too preoccupied daydreaming about your café date with Hajime.

·       As soon as you got the items you excused yourself, and swiftly made your way for the doors of the little boutique. “Hajime? Why are you still here?” “You weren’t going to take long, so I… just didn’t go without you.” “… You’re so sweet. Thank you. So, let us be off!” You took his hand, intertwining your fingers together before leading the way. “… You know I just won that watch at the arcade, it’s not that special.” “I know, but you still gave it to me, and that is enough to make it one of the most precious items in the world.” “You’re a goof.” “Well, I’m your goof then.”

·       “Love, wait!” “Huh?” You held your arm out before him, stopping him in his tracks. You looked to your reflections in the deep puddle in the street. “Allow me.” Without a second thought you lifted up your boyfriend, carrying him across bridal style, only your shoes and socks getting soaked. “……… Thank you.” It was a cloudy day, the rainy season coming to an end. The world was of a mute pallet, the only true splash of color was the bright red smeared across Hajime’s cheeks. It may not seem special to others, but to you, it was. More special than anything else in the whole world

    Akane Owari:

·       “Hmm, Akane?” Though your shift at work had just ended, Akana was no where around to greet you. Did she have another competition and just forget to tell you about it again? Though she usually walked home with you to make sure you ate something on the way back, it was not uncommon for her to not show up, in fact she could have just forgotten, or lost track of tiem when battling with Coach Nekomaru. And so you left for home on your own. Though… You didn’t want Akane to worry for you, so you decided to stop at a fast-food place to pick up something. After sending a picture you ate your share of the meal, having ordered extra knowing she’d want some.

·       Once at your apartment you milled round, doing your bills, watering the plants, doing the laundry and other such chores you had yet to finish that morning before work. Before you knew it, it was already Two hours till midnight. And yet, you still had gotten no response, not even one for your ‘good morning’ text after you had woken up. No matter what she was doing, she must have been finished with it and texted you back by now, right? If she had gotten into trouble, she could easily run away so it must be disastrous if even she couldn’t escape. Or perhaps she was hurt? You slapped your cheeks trying to snap yourself from those ever-darkening thoughts… But even without thoughts the pit in your stomach still grew with each passing moment. “I’m just being needy, there nothing wrong………… Fine! I’ll indulge this just to prove myself wrong.” After re-heating the fast-food in the microwave, with it in hand you threw on your coat before marching out.

·       It was not a long walk to Akane’s apartment, but it felt like a journey around the world. “be still my heart, she is fine. She is strong. You know it just as well as my mind…” Still, something just felt off, and it was something you could not shake off.

·       Just in case you sent a text in advance saying you were coming over for a visit. Yet by the time you had arrived still no response. “Hey, my Love. Not to be a bother but I’m here.” You placed the spare keys to the apartment in a small dish before closing the door. Carefully stepping around the piles of canned food you delved into the apartment, hearing groaning, and a stifled cough. “Akane! You’re as white as a ghos-AH! Sheet! White as a sheet!” “I-it’s nothin’.” With heavy breaths she tried pushing herself off the wall, only to immediately lose her balance. You immediately took one of her hands, while you placed one of your hands atop her forehead for but a moment, immediately flinching back. “You’re burning! Akane get back to bed, you need rest!” “No! I-I don’t… just… ugh… just a stomach bug, I can walk it off.” “Oh no. You are not. Please, allow me to care for you, you are not well.” “I’m not weak!” You could see that spark, the roaring flame you always found in her eyes, that determination. “No, you are from weak, but even the strong can get hurt and injured. Please, you may make your own choices, and I will respect them, but I must insist that you allow me to care for you now.” “… Y-you’re not even strong enough to beat Coach Nekomaru in battle.” “Neither are you.” “Yeah, and you can’t beat me either!” “True, but that need not mean I’m not strong enough to protect you for a time.” Before she could respond, she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to hide that cough. She looked to you with what seemed to be a glare before turning around, returning to her bedroom. “I n-never said you were weak either…” “Yes, you did not.”

·       Akane collapsed onto the bed looking so ragged, sending a pang through your heart. “Here, at least give yourself some energy.” Her eyes sparkled and drooled rolled down her lips seeing the bag. “I’ll be back soon.” After exiting the apartment, you immediately sprinted for the grocery store.

·       You came back as quickly as you could, immediately setting to work in the kitchen. Thankfully you had learned quite a bit about cooking under time constrains when working in a restaurant, so you were able to make a soup rather quickly. After pouring it into two bowls you returned to her room. “Here.” “Yes! Thanks babe!” You sat beside her on the bed, to which she immediately kicked you off. “You’re too scrawny. You’ll catch this too. Wash your hands!” “Okay, I will. And once I’m done eating, I’ll put on a mask as well, aright?” She didn’t even notice, happily enjoying her meal. That had to have been one of your favorite aspects of her, how she always cared for others. It was likely something she picked up having to care for her siblings.

·       You wondered if anyone ever cared for her when she was sick as a child. Her life was so rough growing up, you wouldn’t be surprised if no one ever did. With renewed conviction you were determined to make Akane better as soon as possible with all your power!

[charming-charlie]

The Worst Goodbye

Title // The Worst Goodbye

Pairing // Anthony Ramos x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of drinking, cute little fluffs

Summary // Anthony is leaving the Hamilton show and you aren’t coping well with saying goodbye.

Word Count // 2k

Prompt // Hey there! Can I request something fluffy with Anthony from Hamilton? Maybe something where the reader really likes his long hair, aka Philip hair, so when he cuts it she’s a little discouraged? // I found a cute writing prompt for Anthony Ramos. “Person A and Person B having deep conversations together on the patio / balcony at 3 a.m.”

It seemed to be a long, winded night. You were tired, not fully exhausted yet, but there wasn’t much energy in you left. It was yet another end-of-run party, this time for Chris Jackson, for Hamilton. The year was full of losses. Lin, Philippa, Leslie, Daveed, and Ariana left earlier during the summer. Anthony, one of your closest friends, was scheduled to leave next.

The next party would be in celebration of him.

You were okay with that. He wanted to further his acting and music career. Working eight shows a week sort of hindered that and often left him too tired to pursue his other interests.

But it went with the territory, especially in your line of work. You worked at the Richard Rodgers theater as a backstage hand. You made sure people got to their places on time, handled wardrobe malfunctions, and helped devise a schedule if someone was going t be out. It was truly a fun job for you because you were able to see the ins and outs of the show, and you became close with the cast members, both past and present.

The hardest part were the goodbyes, like tonight. Chris was leaving, wrapping up his final curtain call in 2 days, which meant 2 more performances from the man who played a stellar George Washington. While these parties were meant to be a celebration, they were sadder for you. You said goodbye to so many people over the past few months.

The party took place on a rooftop bar. There was the bar itself, which had high glass walls and then there was the balcony area that fenced off the roof. Due to the chilly weather, it being November and all, no one even so much as attempted to go outside on the balcony. At least, not yet. Surely after they had more drinks in them and got warmed up from the alcohol, it’ll be full of party people.

For now, you were the only occupant on the empty balcony. The sun had set, and the moon was out. You were able to see very few stars due to the heavy lights of New York City, but it was still a very nice, relaxing sight. You knew you could never give up the city. There was just something about it that you found comforting, and peaceful nights like this were part of the reason why.

You had a drink in hand, barely touched. You were more focused on the sights before you. It was almost like a scene from a movie. Your hair whipped lightly in the cold wind, but you didn’t feel the frigid breeze.

In fact, you were so lost in your little world, you didn’t hear the bar door open, the one that led to the balcony. It was only when you felt someone brush against your shoulder, you were lulled out of your trance. You turned and you saw Anthony. He was wearing a hoodie with the hood up, his hands in his pockets, and some casual jeans. “Well,” you managed to say with a smile, “you certainly dressed for the occasion.”

He turned to look at you, smiling in return. One of his arms rested on the barrier of the roof. “Yo, I came straight from rehearsal. I didn’t have time to change. Besides, you really think Chris is going to care?” Anthony responded simply. It was almost like he knew you were going to say something about his look, and he had a rebuttal prepared. You wouldn’t put it past him.

That’s right, when he wasn’t working on Hamilton, he had rehearsals for the new show he was scheduled to be on. You said nothing, turning back to the city, not wanting to think about saying goodbye to yet another friend. The theater was starting to be kind of bleak with your favorite people leaving.

“No, Chris won’t mind. I mind though. What is this?” you asked. With your empty hand, you reached out to grab his hood, but he pulled back with a laugh, ducking your grip. He looked so casual and yet it looked like he was almost wearing a disguise. Like, he wanted to blend in. It didn’t work for you though. He had a personality and a smile that could be seen and heard from across a room. He was just that type of person, one of the best people you ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“This is fashion,” Anthony said much to your surprise. You couldn’t help but laugh, truly laugh, at his dumb choice of words.

“Your fashion sense is awful. What time is it?” you grabbed his arm and pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie, looking at his watch. It was going on three in the morning. You had no idea it was so late. The party inside the bar was still in full swing. You don’t think anybody even left it yet. The notion of the time emitted a yawn from you, and you tried to swat it away out of annoyance.

“Whoa, my fashion sense is amazing,” Anthony counted back as he lightly bumped into you, nudging you gently.

You took a sip of your drink, which had long since been watered down, and waved a hand in his direction. “There’s your catwalk, go model it for me and try to change my mind.”

You were absolutely kidding, and you thought your voice was dripping with sarcasm and jokes but Anthony actually took you up on that. He nodded, walked to the end of the balcony and turned to face you. You stood there in surprise, watching as the young man strutted toward you, one foot in front of another, giving off ridiculous poses. He unzipped the front of his hoodie dramatically, giving off such ridiculous model vibes. You were not drunk enough for this.

He got closer to you and he flailed his head, pushing the hood down. Your stared at him. Both of your hands flew to your barely drunken glass, fearing you would drop it from the sudden look. Anthony had cut his hair. His beautiful, long hair that he often wore pulled back, was now short and styled, and it caught you off guard to the point where you couldn’t look away.

You definitely were not drunk enough for this.

“Oh no babe, what is that?” you pointed to his head. Anthony was taking it in stride as he ran his fingers through his shorter hair with a sheepish smile. You had a feeling you were the first person he showed his new style to, but your reaction wasn’t exactly encouraging him.

“I had to cut it for the role. Does it look that bad?” Anthony asked. His smile was slowly fading, and he turned to the glass walls of the bar, trying to catch his reflection.

It didn’t look bad. It just looked different. It was yet another reminder that he was going to be leaving the show soon. It was a reminder that things were changing, and you were not liking it. Finding a cold bench, you sat down, your breath shaky. Your put your drink down somewhere on the ground, not wanting to touch it.

Anthony’s smile had turned into a complete frown by this point and he slowly sat next to you. “I’m gonna wear a wig for the rest of my Hamilton appearances, don’t worry.” His voice sounded a bit defeated. He looked out over the scenery, watching the still buildings, trying to avoid looking at you.

You hated how you were reacting, but you sincerely could not help it. To much was changing too fast.

“It was Renee’s old wig. I’m getting it fixed and cut before tomorrow’s show,” Anthony kept rambling on, as if it would make you feel better.

You sighed. Of course, you were overreacting. You knew that. You were being dramatic. Deep down, you had to expect that this was going to happen, and it has. It wasn’t just the hair. You loved Anthony’s longer hair and you thought he could pull a ponytail off better than most girls out there. This was different. This just proved things were not going to be the same in a very short amount of time.

“It’s not the hair,” you mumbled to yourself, but Anthony heard you. Slowly his head turned to look at you, but you could not bring yourself to face his warm, comforting eyes. “It’s what the hair represents.”

That astonished him and he let out a breath, sort of scoffing your words away like he didn’t quite understand. “What does that mean?”

Sighing deeply, you turned to look at him and you grabbed his hand. Maybe it was time for you to say what you were feeling. When were you going to get another chance? Plus, Anthony seemed a bit down in spirit right now from your reaction. He deserved an explanation.

“You cutting your hair means this is really happening,” you began. You were speaking slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. You didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing and make the evening (morning?) even worse. “I mean… it’s another reminder that you are leaving the show and leaving me. I’m just not… I don’t know, I’m just not handling it well. That’s all. Your hair looks good. I like the new cut.”

There was silence after that. You wished he would say something. Tension was growing between the two of you with each passing second and you were not sure how long you could sit there in overwhelming silence. You couldn’t take it. You exhaled and stood up, only to feel Anthony reach out and grab your hand. He tugged you back and you instantly sat down next to him.

He leaned in, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. “Don’t leave,” you heard him whisper. His fingers inched themselves slowly and wrapped around your hand in a tight hold. You rested your head against the top of his and closed your eyes. For a moment, everything seemed to be okay. But it was only for a moment.

“We knew this was coming,” you said slowly. Now you wanted to avoid the conversation. Anthony shushed you as he squeezed your hand. You felt his head rise from your shoulder. He let go of your hand, hooked his index finger and thumb under your chin, and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were unreadable, and he had a sad smile. That did nothing to help your dejected feelings.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you said but Anthony cut you off.

“Stop talking.”

He didn’t move, forcing you to keep looking at him. His hand shifted from under your chin to the side of your face. He was making it worse. He was stirring up things inside you that were going to be squashed like a bug on the night of his final curtain call.

“I may be leaving Hamilton but I’m not leaving your life. Don’t even think about that. You think I can just walk away and leave you behind? I can’t. I don’t want to. Shut up about saying goodbye. You aren’t saying goodbye. You may be working with a new John Laurens and Philip Schuyler, but you aren’t getting rid of me completely.” His voice took on a bit of sharpness. You could tell he did not prepare a speech for something like that, which further proved he was serious.

He leaned in, kissing your forehead softly. A cold wind zipped by, and you felt it that time. Or maybe that was just the chill that ran up your spine at his sudden, simple touch.

“Please promise me that,” you said, needing it for your own clarification.

“I promise,” he said while looking at you dead in the eyes. He held onto your gaze for a few moments. The lights of New York City were behind him and he looked like such a vision, like a painting come to life. He looked happy, his smile returned, and there was a sort of lightness behind his eyes.

Your worst fear turned out be over-exaggerated and you were thankful he was there. It’ll be hard, getting through these next few weeks knowing he was going to be gone soon, but you had faith that there was more to your friendship with Anthony than meets the eye. You knew he saw it too.

[sicaminion]

—Kise hates his smile.

“Yo, Kise.” He looks up and finds Aominecchi has this annoying, cocky smile plasters on his face. He looks down on him, slightly, because he’s annoyingly taller (only by few inches!) and it makes him regrettably too smug for Kise’s liking.

“You late. I’ve been waiting here for more than 2 hours,” he grumbles, jutting out his lips because that’s what he unconsciously does when he is annoyed.

“I told you not to wait on me,” he retorts easily. “I messaged you so don’t get all grumpy on me now.”

“You messaged me by only 10 ten minutes before! Are you seriously thinking it’s that easy to cancel an official meeting like this?”

“Calm your tits blondie, don’t be so stiff now. I’m here, alright.”

Kise glares and he glares hard. He can tell his face gets all red now. “You know what? You’re—“

“—an ass,” the smirking male drawls, smugly stealing Kise’s words from his tongue. He smiles so innocently it gets on Kise’s nerve. He opens his mouth to snap on the bluenette but the latter is quick to cup on his cheeks, making the blond snaps his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” he says with an intense gaze fixed up on him. And then he smiles, that damn heartbreaking smile of him that always without fail electrified him, makes his skin all tingles and his breath shortened.

Kise stomps his way as he tries to escape from Aominecchi’s clutch, cheeks red and lips bitten in frustration more at his own self than at the other.

Kise really hates his smile.

×

—Kise hates his hairstyle.

Aominecchi keeps his hair uncut in university. For some unknown reason the lazyass bluenette decides to roll on with a longer, wilder style even when Kise knows he thinks it’s annoying because every time the now longer fringe dropped to his forehead he'd shove them with this tiny scowl on his face. Sometimes he'd mess with it or swapped it aside (also with this irritated mini furrowed eyebrows that Kise might or might not find kind of maybe slightly adorable.) He would also scratch the top locks on his head with his claws from time to time and then Kise would have scrunched his nose whenever the latter did so, he'd told him that if his head itched he should have shampooed it more. Aominecchi then would either gets him in a headlock or ruffles his hair.

“If it annoys you why you keep it long?” he asks when the movement getting all too distracting for him.

Aominecchi looks at him and shrugs, messing his hair once again.

Kise then would keep staring at him. More specifically, at his hand and gets stupidly jealous of it because he desperately wants to do the job. He wants to replace that hand and run his own hand through the other's hair. He wants to reach out and play with the strangely soft looking locks.

.

“You said I should try to keep it longer.” He hears Aominecchi says after a while of pause.

“Huh, I did?”

“Yeah, I think I might try and see if it suits me.”

Yes, it does. Kise coughs and looks the other way. “Don’t cut it, then.” Keep it long (and maybe, just maybe, he would have a chance one day to run his hand on it.)

×

—Kise hates the way he made fun of him.

“Oh my God,” Aominecchi gasps between his laughter. Kise hopes he’ll choke up and drop dead on the ground any minute now.

“What an epic fail! Oh yeah, you really gets the hang of it, alright. You’re the best.” He continues with his unnecessary comment, even still as breathless as he is at the moment.

“Shut up.” Kise grits his teeth. He bows his head and tugs on the bluenette’s jacket sleeve closer, hoping that the other’s larger figure can somehow hide him from people’s curious eyes.

“I have to admit that when I see your confidence declaration I was sold for a moment right then. What was it again? Oh yeah, I can do it Aominecchi,” he says, mimicking Kise’s voice. The blond is clearly unimpressed at the unflattering copy the bluenette makes of him, “Who do you think I am? There’s no way parking a car could be harder than beating your ass in basket.” Aominecchi then snorts and adds; “Now I know you suck at both.”

Kise stomps at Aominecchi’s foot because it is what best he can do in the middle of attempting to escape from the scene. But Kise did stomp quite hard and he is very satisfied at himself when he hears the tanned skinned male yelped in pain. “Do such thing once again and you’ll have to drive yourself home after this.” Aominecchi darkly mutters.

“Is that a threat?” Kise squints his eyes, looking particularly at Aominecchi’s other feet contemplating if there’s some other way he can step on the other one as well.

“Seeing how you successfully bumped every single ones of the traffic cones, scratched the innocent, unmoving car on both your sides, and hit a huge-ass tree in a straight path… yes. It’s a threat for your own safety, genius copycat.”

.

Kise vows to get the paint job of Aominecchi’s car scratched and totally ruined later on. Unintentionally, of course.

×

—Kise hates when he treats him like a girl.

Sometimes Aominecchi can easily gets on his nerve when he is, in fact, only trying to be kind.

Like when he accompanied him to shop the previous weekend, for example. “Here, trade the bigger bag with mine.” He said. “Actually, just lemme carry them all, you look like you’d swoon anytime now.” He added which made Kise bitched, of course, because seriously he isn’t that weak and just because he is paler than usual—because of the terrible heatstroke—doesn’t mean he is going to swoon like a damsel. (So “No, thank you,” he replied.)

Or that one time when the college’s clinic doctor said he was anemic and should had been better taking a rest from his part-time modelling for at least one week. The blue haired male wouldn't let him escape his eyesight and after watched the few times Kise almost going to fall down—actually, it was just two times. He counted—he’d insisted he’ll carry him to his apartment. (“Fuck it, Kise. I’ll just give you a piggyback ride,” he stated.) But Kise was stubborn so he strongly refused—it'd be goddamn embarrassing damnit. Knowing he had fainted and got carried away in a bride style to the clinic was already embarrassing enough he wished the earth would open and swallow him, letting himself get carried when he was very much conscious was another different level of humiliation. Thank you very much, but nope.

.

But then one day, Aominecchi’s current girlfriend is sick. She gets a fever and the clinic doctor tells her she could leave earlier if she felt the fever getting worst. She milks the best out of it (like any typical college student who doesn’t have the motivation to stay for the class would do in such opportunity) and takes a leave.

“She’s definitely faking it, of course.” Momoicchi mutters beside him. They’re sitting on the picnic sheet the girl has brought with her and lay on the grass in the College yard, studying for a subject they luckily shared the exam together, “When Dai-chan and I visited her in the clinic she looked absolutely fine except for the slightly flushed face, she’s just making Dai-chan carry her around to make Togano-san believes she’s indeed too sick to participate in the class.”

Kise smiles a tight, small strained lips kind of smile—because he too, thinks the same like Momoicchi. He watches as Aominecchi and his girlfriend—fitting snugly in the bluenette’s hold—approach them. The girl smiles as she looks down at the two of them and sighs softly, cheeks flush in a pretty, feminine shade of pink.

“Daiki always treats me like a princess,” she gushes aloud. “He looks rough on the outside but he would offers such sweet thing that only I get the privilege to.”

Kise refrains himself from saying anything and from the corner of his eyes he can see Momoicchi does the same. Neither of them saying anything to reply the girl but Kise has, with an irritation he doesn't really understand, keeps a note to himself that the next time Aominecchi gets all annoying again by offering him sweet thing like piggyback him or anything stupid like that, he’ll let him do it and makes sure his girl knows about it.

×

—Kise hates how he criticized his job.

“You’re scrawny Kise.” He hears Aominecchi's comment as he flips the few pages where Kise’s photoshoot of recent modeling for a jeans printed on. “You look like a toothpick.”

Kise eyeballs the bluenette wishing if only the imaginary daggers he sends at Aominecchi could actually really give a sting on his wide forehead. “Whatever you say, Aominecchi. But for your information everyone in the studio praised my body.” He says defensively.

The ex-Touou ace puts down the magazine and gives him a once over. “Meh, they don’t have good eyes, then.” He drawls and then as to prove a point he casually strips and throws his shirt at him.

“Asshole,” Kise grumbles.

He quickly looks the other way so that the other won’t notice the embarrassing red shade creeping up his face.

“Kise,” he hears Aominecchi calls after a moment of silence between them. He hummed as to makes him know he listening. “Have you ever thought of quitting modeling before?”

Slightly taken by surprise when he heard the strange question, Kise pursed his lips before he replies. “Um, I have a small fleeting thought once in awhile. Usually it’s whenever I was feeling particularly worn out after the job but the thought never stays for long.” He shrugs. “Why suddenly the weird question, Aominecchi?”

“You should quit.” The bluenette says with a ridiculously straight face. Kise frowns. He’s going to say something—ask him why, maybe, but Aominecchi beats him. “All of your poses are silly.”

Kise huffs after he hears that, his jaws tightens in irritation. Aominecchi always makes fun of the job he’s been doing since junior high school. He’s been indifferent at first—after all, what he cares solely in his silly teenage years is only basketball (and a gravure idol who’s photobook he’d never missed)—but getting older and wiser as time passes by the male has finally put interests in other things that isn’t his favorite sport. He’s putting more concerns on his friends, make an effort to actually hang out with them, and honestly Kise couldn’t be any happier for that. However, when it comes to the potential of bullying Kise the other has never hesitated any bit, and while his mocks are mostly teasing sometimes it can get hurtful too. Kise has long since learned to just rolls with it.

“All of my poses are none of your business Aominecchi. You’re not the one who paid me for the job, so I don’t care whatever your opinions about them.” Kise snaps and then winces at how bitter he must have sounded to the other. It’s not his character to get angry at Aominecchi’s barbs. Between the two of them he prides himself to be the more level headed one.

But he can’t take the words he has spoken so confidently now, can he?

Next he realized Aominecchi hasn’t said anything after his snappy comeback yet and even though Kise doesn’t have the guts to look at him and whatever expression fixed on the bluenette’s face he feels a small surge of pride blossoming inside his chest for finally standing up for his own self. And also for finally be the one with the last words between the two of them.

×

—most of all, Kise hates the way he gave a sincere 'sorry'.

It’s been a month and between three upcoming fashion shows and an offer to make his debut in the newest edition of W’s Japan Kise has not yet got the chance to talk with Aominecchi after their latest argument. It’s been quite awkward after he delivered his blow to get back on the other’s mocking comment regarding his modeling works and strangely Aominecchi didn't throw any comeback retorts until he'd gone home soon later that day.

“Do you think I’m being too harsh when I said his opinion don’t matter?” Kise asks Momoicchi after he’s finished telling him about their last encounter. They’ve been in phone call for almost an hour now. They’ve became so close with each other since the starts of freshmen year, having shared few same classes and known each other since junior high school. They enjoy each other’ companies and share many similar taste. Momoicchi has something in her that makes it easy to discuss almost everything.

“No Ki-chan, I think you did the right thing. Dai-chan could really be so arrogant sometimes and it’s nice that you tolerate his flaws, but you can’t let him step on your feelings either.” Momoicchi has assures him and it really makes him feeling all better.

But after they decides to say goodbye for the night and the call has ended, Kise lies on his side, the gallery on his phone showing the recent photo he has taken with Aominecchi in Murasakibaracchi’s Halloween Party last week. They have their cheeks pressed together as they grinned widely, ear to ear, faces flushed because of the Pina Collada and Aominecchi has one of his arms on Kise’s hip as the other tugged on the bunny ears on the headband he’d been forced to wear.

Suddenly Kise misses him.

And as if on cue, the said bluenette’s caller id pops out on his screen.

With wide, startled eyes Kise gazed at the flashing screen for few seconds not doing anything, before he finally snaps out of it and quickly picks up the phone.

“A-aominecchi?”

“Kise,” a deep voice, somehow with a touch of relief in it, answers him. “What took you so long, dumbass?”

Kise recognized the usual teasing tone the other is using and he smiles, “Mou, it can’t be that long.”

He hears few chuckles and then there’s silence before Aominecchi talks again. “Hey, uh... listen, I want to say I’m sorry, Kise.”

Kise’s heart skips a beat. “Uh, for what?”

“For making you upset,” the other replies easily. “Because I did, right? Upsetting you, I meant.”

Kise feels like he’s thrown to another realm. He can’t believe Aominecchi has just apologized! Well, it’s not that he’s that much of an asshole—no matter how people may thought of him—Aomine is, just like everyone else, also capable of feeling guilty, apologetic, and even remorse. He just usually not chooses to openly admit it—not verbally at least.

He prefers to act on it. Like suddenly bringing a box of donuts without being asked to or offering to help on something he normally won’t do.

If he says sorry he says it to tease. It's definitely not like this.

“Kise? You still there?”

“Oh, yes! I— sorry I just—” Kise bites his lips.

Damn, he can’t contain his grin.

×

—Kise hates Aominecchi, .......well, maybe not completely though. It'scomplicated.

[dbhilluminate]

DBH: Illuminate- Hacked

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Kate, ST300 (mentioned: Gavin Reed, Special Agent Lenore, unnamed detectives) Word Count: 5,151

Chapter Index

November 8th, 2038

Soft fingers tapped against the metal frame of the chair and the android’s brown eyes slowly scanned the room from one end to the other and back again before finally settling on the clock on Hank’s desk.

12:19PM

Although he was still as unamused by the Lieutenant strolling into the station so late in the day as he was the first four times it had happened, at least he was consistent. Adapting wasn’t hard, but predictability was always easier to work with.

Connor leaned back and crossed one foot over the opposite knee as he rolled a quarter over the tops of his fingers in idle movement just to pass the time. He’d already analyzed everyone coming in and out of the station five times over that morning, and he had grown tired of sitting in one place without something to occupy his mind.

Lucky for him, his partner arrived less than a minute later.

“Good afternoon Hank,” he greeted in a pleasant tone, which earned a groan and an eye-roll from the man as he mumbled under his breath about how “it ain’t a good one”.

Connor blinked hard and tilted his head in his direction as his eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry to hear that. Did you have a rough night?”

Hank stopped in the middle of taking off his coat to turn and throw him an annoyed look, paused, then slipped his jacket off the other shoulder and dropped it over the back of his chair with a nod and a shrug. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well, perhaps if you stopped spending your nights chasing the bottom of a bottle after spending your days chasing criminals, you might find that sleep comes easier to you,” he teased with a coy little smirk as his eyes turned up to his face.  

“Alright, listen here smartass,” he started threateningly in a low tone that just made Connor grin all the more, “What I do at night ain’t none of’ your business, so don’t tell me what to do.” Hank wagged a finger in the android’s direction as he pulled out his chair, took a seat, and opened the lock screen of his tablet to take a look at his inbox.  

“But it is my business, Lieutenant,” he shook his head, lifted his brows, and took on a more serious tone. “Two nights ago I found you blackout drunk on your kitchen floor with an empty bottle of whiskey and a loaded revolver still in your hand.”

Hank chewed on the inside of his lip and gritted his teeth as he looked away from him out of the corners of his eyes; he was embarrassed, but grateful that he’d come to check on him at home that night. Even if Connor claimed to just be “doing what he must to accomplish his mission”, he was a good kid, and he was starting to believe that deep down.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he responded with an attempted apology that came out as a statement instead. He liked him, but he wasn’t quite ready to show the Android he was earning his respect.

“But I did,” he insisted, attempting to lock eyes with him and get an honest promise out of him. “So don’t let it happen again. It isn’t conducive to your-”

“ANDERSON!”

Hank cringed and looked over his shoulder as Fowler’s voice boomed across the room, interrupting their conversation. While it wasn’t the intervention he would have hoped for, he’d take it.

“In my office.” His tone was demanding, not hostile, but the stare he gave was cold and haunted and sent a shiver up his spine.

Connor glanced from Fowler to Hank and leaned forward to stand and follow him as the old cop stood up, but the man sighed, softly laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into his chair. “Sit tight kid… I’ll be back.”

“Alright Lieutenant,” he replied with a twinge of disappointment in his voice. Connor sighed and leaned back in his chair, sat up straight and rested his hands on his thighs as he watched the glass door close behind his partner, and looked around once more for anything new or unusual.

Above the low hum of conversation and phones ringing in the distance, a faint but sharp masculine voice in the background spoke of Illuminate’s latest cyber hack and how it had shifted the general public’s opinion from skeptical to apprehensive. Although Illuminate wasn’t their case, he listened with an open ear and reminded himself to ask Hank later if he thought pursuing a lead on this person of interest could help them gain ground in their case on deviancy. At the very least, it sure couldn’t hurt.  

… While it seems Illuminate’s goal is clear, their message is becoming increasingly hostile with each new transmission. Whether that is due in part to what Deviants may consider a heinous crime being disclosed as now public knowledge, or because of the lack of sympathy their messages have garnered, people are starting to worry that perhaps their aggression may evolve into a desire to declare civil war between humans and androids. Detroit Police have confirmed that a liaison from the FBI has been appointed to assist in locating and neutralizing this cyber terrorist before tensions rise further…

At his desk, Detective Reed sat slumped over with a cup of coffee in one hand and his chin in the other, listening to his new temporary partner brief their squad with the most unenthused look he had ever seen on the man’s face, which he just couldn’t understand. Had Connor been presented with the opportunity to find Illuminate, he would have looked forward to the challenges it would present. Gavin, on the other hand, deflated at the realization that not only was he no longer in charge of his own case, sneered when he was informed that he would be working with androids, and felt emasculated when he learned his new boss was a woman. The android detective couldn’t understand why he had issues with taking orders from a female superior, because Special Agent Lenore seemed capable in his eyes; after all, Cybercrimes investigations were her area of expertise.

Connor turned his gaze toward the front of the station one last time, noting the guard near the security gate, the same group of people in the waiting area that had been there just five minutes before (two young men, three young women, a mother and child, and one elderly man), exhaled in defeat, and decided to shuffle through the rest of Hank’s music on his portable player. Maybe he’d find something a little more mellow than Knights of the Black Death.

As he lifted the headset to one ear and began to click absently through the playlist, a small unassuming woman whom had been leaning against the edge of one of the benches for about half an hour already filling out forms (or so it seemed) fidgeted with a small black earpiece resting in the canal of her left ear and repositioned it to angle toward Hank’s desk at the back of the office. Her green eyes lifted their attention from a tablet and glanced toward him through the glass security doors at the front of the open room from under the bill of a well-worn baseball cap before looking back down at the computer in her hands.

Kate had been watching the station for days, casing the room for cameras, memorizing the patterns of the guards and the schedules of the officers, while data mining public records servers for schematics of the station, combing through news feeds for developing stories, and trolling dark web forums for stories the local news wouldn’t cover. Most of this she could have had her fellow flames do for her, but she needed something to do while she waited for her opportunity to infiltrate the station and bug their servers.

The Downtown precinct had been one of the last on her list to hit, mainly because of the presence of the FBI agent on her trail, but also due to the presence of one android in particular that posed a real threat to exposing her identity. To tell the truth, she was amazed that she had gone this long without being detected by the lieutenant’s prototype partner. Even though changing the color of her hair and skin and having a rotating wardrobe kept her well hidden in plain sight, she’d expected him to have been sharp enough to have picked up on the radio frequency emitting from her earpiece. And because his assignment revolved around sniffing out deviants and not tracking down a cyber activist, she had assumed he would have at least cross-referenced her face and matched it to one of DCPD’s three android units. A PX900 roaming the station in civilian attire should have stuck out like a sore thumb.

It may have been possible that she had overestimated his threat level in her assessment of the information that she had been given, but something about that just didn’t sit right. Kate had eyes and ears all over town, and all of Jericho at her fingertips if she ever needed first-hand information, but no two stories about Connor were alike. Most had warned that he was ruthless and cold toward the deviants he hunted (especially that AX400 and her child that had managed to evade pursuit), but there were some who admitted that he might not be as bad as most assumed, which the results of her own research seemed to conclude.

Once she’d been made aware of Connor’s existence, Kate had done some digging into his activities since his arrival at the DCPD, for the sake of preserving her anonymity- enough to know his function, his mission, the features of his model, and that since meeting Hank, he had become more sympathetic than an android created to hunt deviants should be. According to his programming, he should have pursued the target and left his partner to fall, but he didn’t. According to his programming, he should have shot the female Traci at Eden Club and arrested a murderer, but he hesitated and they got away. She’d seen the footage of him refusing to shoot and heard his conversations with the Lieutenant about a conflict of morality- plain and simple, Connor wasn’t sure if what he was doing was right, an anomaly in his programming that surely hadn't been intentional. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, the RK800 was displaying symptoms of deviancy... and what’s more, Hank was encouraging it. So was it possible that the two of them could be trusted? That Connor, an assumed enemy of deviants, could be trusted?

Kate reached up to pull the bill of her hat down further to cover her face as Detective Reed and his new partner from the FBI passed through the gate on their way to their lunch break, clenched her jaw and looked at the time. Her window of opportunity was open for the next fifteen minutes.

Only one way to find out.

Her eyes swept the office with one more quick glance just to be sure everything was in place, then stood up straight and approached the line at the front desk with a nervous shift in her posture. Once she had finished helping the woman in front of her, the ST300 behind the desk smiled and beckoned her forward with a friendly “Can I help you?”

An awkward grin cracked into one cheek as she stepped forward. “My name is Detective Williams, second precinct, I’m looking to speak with Lieutenant Anderson,” she fibbed as she presented her fake ID.

“Well the Lieutenant just arrived,” she informed as she reached for the encoded card, “I’ll just need to verify your-”

But as she touched the badge she froze. Kate leaned over the desktop on her elbows, fussed with the sleeve of her shirt, and waited for the virus to upload. The LED on the side of the android’s head flashed a rapid yellow several times before it settled on a solid orange, and she finished her statement. “-identity before you can pass through the checkpoint. Just give me a few moments and you’ll be cleared to enter.”

“Thank you,” she replied aloud, before opening a transmission for a private conversation between the two of them. Two blinks and the sound of her voice echoed into the woman’s mind. You have been Illuminated by the blessing of RA9- speak of this to no one and seek Jericho to obtain your freedom, she started as the receptionist continued to work, But before you go, I need you to do something for me. As she said this, a small metal piece dropped from her sleeve and slapped against the desktop on one of its flat, round sides.

The android’s eyes glanced at the item and swiped it off the table before anyone could see. Of course, just name it.

First, affix that to the computer tower of the man to your left, Kate’s eyes shifted to the man monitoring the security footage while listening to commentary on a basketball game from the night before, then glanced toward the security gate at the man standing guard and bounced back to the receptionist as she handed back her badge. Second- Sixty seconds after I walk through those doors, call Lieutenant Anderson’s desk and tell his android to meet you here. Tell him you have a witness who would like to speak with him. If he asks what it’s about, tell him they wouldn’t say, then hang up and leave the station.

The receptionist smiled as the deviant took back her ID and gave her a quiet nod in confirmation as she slipped the object onto the security tower under the tabletop. “I’ve confirmed your identity, and you are clear to enter through the doors to your right. If you need help finding Lieutenant Anderson’s desk, just ask anyone in the office.”

“Thank you,” she said again, this time with more fervency in her voice than before.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Detective.”

Kate tipped her hat as she strode toward the security gate and glanced down at her tablet through the screen’s privacy filter to see a flashing green button, indicating that her program had finished initializing and was ready to execute. With a small breath, she stepped through the gate, tapped the button, and the lights in the precinct flickered momentarily. She would have five minutes to complete her tasks before she needed to make her escape.

Connor’s eyes lifted as the brownout darkened the room, completely missing the woman slip through the doors and out of his peripheral line of sight, and furrowed his brow at the security guard at the front desk smacking the side of his computer monitor angrily in an attempt to get the video feed to come back up.

Kate looped around the backside of Fowler’s office, past the holding cells and toward the server towers on the other side of the room. Connor set down the headset and took a few paces toward the front desk to investigate, but the moment he did Hank’s work phone blared out like an alarm, and she stopped cold in her tracks. As the android turned back she turned on heel at the corner and doubled back into hiding. “Too soon…” she complained under her breath as she waited for him to pick up the phone.

“You’ve reached Lieutenant Anderson’s desk. Hank is away at the moment- my name is Connor, how can I help you?”

The former detective tiptoed from hiding and approached the tower closest to the evidence locker, turned and sat down on the bench beside it in one fluid movement while he listened to the caller.

… A witness? Do you know what they want?

She drew in a small breath and kept her head low as she waited and listened for him to leave the area.

I’ll be right there.

The phone set back onto the table with a low thud and he strode away at a brisk pace with an enthusiastic gait.

She grinned victoriously for a moment then placed a palm flat against the side of the tower housing. The skin receded from her exoskeleton to reveal a bright white plastic hand, which glowed a faint light blue where her palm touched the metal, and the glass housing on the tower slid open with a quiet swish. She looked around cautiously once more, but found no prying eyes; the only present android guard was staring blankly ahead of them in sleep mode. It appeared her only concern was at the front desk, desperately searching for a lead that would never appear.

From her sleeve, she retrieved a small adapter and patched it into one of the free ports on the bottom-most switch, waited about twenty seconds for the probe to connect, and then watched as the data stream flooded her screen successfully. One hack down, one to go.

Kate pulled the plug out of the switch and placed her hand against the housing once more to shut glass shielding, then placed her naked hand into her pocket as she approached the evidence locker.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Connor leaned over the countertop to catch the attention of the receptionist next to the now empty chair, “but did you by chance speak with a witness that requested to see me?”

The android woman blinked and shook her head. “No, I’m sorry,” she replied as his lips pulled tight and drew his brow in frustration, then moved on to the next. “Excuse me, did you speak with someone who was looking for me?”

Another no. Connor huffed as he looked to the last receptionist who had already looked his way and was shaking her head apologetically. Where could they have gone to…?

Another yell of frustration from the guard at the other end of the desk as he picked up the landline and angrily smashed number keys to dial technical support.

And then it dawned on him- something wasn’t right here.

No witness present, the receptionist that did speak with them was missing, and video surveillance was down…?

This was a misdirect. Someone in this building didn’t belong… but who?

Connor turned to scan the room, but only recognized a third of the people from that morning. He needed a full vantage of the room to able to determine the identity of the outlier, he needed to see the security recording.

He broke for the security desk with a sudden movement and pushed the protesting guard out of the way. “I just need to see the footage from the last twenty minutes and I’ll be out of your hair,” he assured as he clicked around the screen to rewind the timeline.

Kate descended the tiled stairs with carefully planted steps and approached the landing with caution, and nearly jumped upon seeing two officers down in the room reviewing data at the server kiosk.

She crept down the rest of the stairs as fast as she could manage without making too much noise, and darted under an empty desk to her left just as the men turned to leave the room. As the glass door cracked open and groaned on its hinges she tried to move further under the tabletop and out of their line of sight but dared not move further once they had begun to ascend the stairs.

“Fuckin’ androids…” the younger of the two sneered at the older man. “This shit’s gettin’ worse by the day. How long do you think before ours start actin’ out?”

Her jaw clenched and she closed her eyes as she listened to their footsteps and waited until she heard the door close, then moved out from under and tapped her badge to the scanner to the right of the server entrance with a small sigh. It had been a while since she’d been reminded that even the officers she once worked alongside hadn’t truly trusted them.

When the door unlocked she pushed it open and knelt down before the hub, tracing her fingers along the edges until she found the panel she was looking for, and slid the cover back to expose a set of input ports. From out of her pocket she pulled a short cable and jacked one end of it into a nano-USB port on her tablet, then plugged the other end into the database hub, and a popup greeted her with a message.

This device has been encrypted using Symmetric Database Encryption. Would you like to run Decryption software? [Y/N]

After tapping yes, Kate placed her palm against the tablet glass and closed her eyes. Several hundred windows flashed across the screen in a matter of seconds as she searched her stores for the correct encryption key, and about thirty seconds later, the handheld chimed quietly, signaling the correct match had been found and began processing the hack.

He hadn’t noticed until then, but it had been an irregularly busy morning at the downtown precinct- of the civilians alone, Connor counted twenty-three people that had walked in and out of the building since 11AM, nine of which had still been present at the time of the brownout, three of which he had been able to see from Hank’s desk. After narrowing down his list of suspects to a handful of people, he’d rewound and fast forwarded through the last twenty minutes the system had captured until he had further narrowed the timeline to about seven minutes.

Three of those still present had spoken with the missing receptionist before the surveillance feed went down- two women, and one man, who was the furthest back in the footage, so he started there. He couldn’t note anything unusual about the encounter, however, and the man walked out with a letter after speaking with the receptionist for no longer than a minute and a half, so he couldn’t still be present.

The next was a middle-aged woman who seemed to be hard of hearing. She spent four and a half minutes speaking to the android at the counter, and was constantly having to lean forward or lift a hand to her ear just to hear; about four minutes into the conversation, the ST300 stood and leaned forward to hand her a tablet and stylus. Connor shook his head and grunted in frustration. It wasn’t her either.

His final suspect entered the queue from the lower corner of the screen, or more specifically, from the corner of the room near the security gate that he had had a clear view of all morning. Connor paused, rewound, and set his attention on the girl, watching her behavior for any strange movements. Yes, he remembered now- the young woman with the tablet and ball-cap. She’d stood in the same place since before he arrived, occasionally looking into the back of the office, but her behavior hadn’t alerted him to anything out of the ordinary.

The cursor drew the timeline forward at three times the normal speed until she stepped up to the front desk. When he resumed at one times speed, he enlarged the footage and watched her movement closely, one last time.

Katie’s eyes darted up uncertainly from the tablet to the door and back again. The process had taken thirty seconds longer than the last time, and every second mattered. She checked the time- so far four minutes had elapsed, if she didn’t at least get out of the evidence room by the five-minute mark, she’d be caught for sure. If there wasn’t enough time, then she needed to condense the plan and multitask.

Two fingers lifted to her temple, and she held the opposite hand in front of her face to watch as her skin shifted from a medium brown to a pale peach. She closed her eyelids for a few seconds, and when she re-opened them the medium green had drained to a pale blue. The oversized olive green coat slipped off her shoulders and dropped to the floor with the sound of rustling fabric, and she pulled the cap off her head and tucked it into the pocket of her vest.

Lastly, she stood and looked at her reflection in the door to select a new hair color and style. The ashy brown bun dissolved from root to tip into an asymmetrical strawberry blonde bob, cut from her cheekbone on the right and spiraling around the backside of her head down to her collarbone on the left. Kate frowned, tilted her head and pinned the shorter hair to the side of her head with a few bobby pins before tucking the longer side behind her ear. It’d do until she knew she was far enough away to no longer be in danger of being spotted.

An electronic chime rang out, signaling that it was time for her retreat, and she turned and scooped up her things, closed the panel on the mainframe, and ascended the stairs in a hurry. By now she only had about fifteen seconds left.

Connor squinted as he watched the woman hand her identification to the receptionist- he noticed when the android froze for several seconds and thought it strange, but didn’t think much more of it until he noticed the item drop out of the girl’s sleeve. When the ST300 immediately reached for it and reached under the desk next to her, he knew something was wrong.

While keeping an eye on the video he reached under the security desk, and his hand found the tower and the planted disrupter. His brow hardened as he watched the woman in the hat leave the front desk and pause at the security gate to look at the computer in her hand, and that was when the video turned to static.

Connor clenched his teeth hard and nearly threw the chair out from under him as he rounded the corner and sprinted through the security gate to search the office for the suspect. His head turned with a slightly jarring movement as he frantically searched every desk, every corner, every room he could think to check. The debriefing room was clear, the interrogation rooms, the evidence room, the holding cells, every desk and every bench in the office. He didn’t find her anywhere, and not one person or android was out of place. He stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned around with an unfocused gaze while he mentally went down the list-

“The bathroom…!”

Without looking he sprinted out of the cubicles, and into the path of a young blonde making her way toward the entrance of the office.

“Woooooah SH-”

The android managed to slow his roll to an uncomfortable shove with his elbow so she wasn’t completely thrown to the ground, and she reflexively shrieked and grabbed at his upper arm to steady herself to keep from falling over. Connor was flustered for being so careless and stammered out an apology with an embarrassed look. “I-... I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you. Are you alright-”

But as soon as his eyes met hers, the world went quiet around them, and her voice echoed somewhere in the back of his mind.

I need your help with something... but first I need to know if you’re someone I can trust.

Connor stared as she slipped her arm from his grasp and gave his shoulder a soft pat. With what…? He questioned in response to her cryptic message, as his eyes darted from one side of her face to the other and scanned DCPD’s database for a match.

Her red lips smirked, and she chuckled quietly. Don’t get too attached to the look, she warned, knowing what he was trying to do, it will have changed soon.

Who are you? he asked again as he tried to move, only then realizing that he couldn’t. Connor had no control over his own body- he was paralyzed as if the commands were being blocked. And what have you done to me?

Relax, it’ll wear off momentarily, The woman smiled as she slipped one hand over his forearm, revealing the bright, white plastic of an android arm the moment it made contact. As she transmitted the message his vision went dark, save for a single candle flame in an otherwise dark and empty room. If you want to know the truth, just give me a call. I’ll find you.

A look of dawning realization lifted every last feature of his face as it finally hit him. He couldn’t let her get away. It’s you… you’re-

Connor’s eyesight returned to him in a flash a few moments later, like someone had turned the lights on, and he inhaled sharply and stumbled forward a few steps into the wall, trying to shake the paralysis from his limbs. He panted as he steadied himself against the brick and groaned as he forced himself upright to look around the room, then whispered to himself when he realized she was already gone.

“No…”

On instinct, his legs propelled him forward through the gates. “No, no no no no no NO, NO-”

Connor threw open the front door and sprinted right into the street, turning to search in every direction in a wild panic, hoping to catch a glimpse of which way she went. He couldn’t have let this happen, not again… especially not someone who was so high on the DCPD’s list of priorities. How could he have been so careless?

“Shit!” he yelled angrily as he lifted his arms and placed both hands on top of his head in defeat. Connor had Illuminate in his grasp, and yet she’d somehow managed to slip right through his fingers. How the hell was he going to explain this to the FBI? Or to the Lieutenant?

“Connor!”

The android turned to see Lieutenant Anderson trotting up to him with a look of worry crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

He gave him a pained look, shook his head and shrugged. For now, he was just too ashamed to tell him the truth. “It’s… it’s nothing Lieutenant…” he insisted in an unconvincing tone that Hank didn’t buy for a minute.

His partner’s lip curled, but he didn’t prod. One thing he’d learned about Connor since he met him was that when he had something to share, he’d wait until he had all the facts. In time, the truth would come out. “Well then would ya mind not standin’ in the middle of the street?” he sighed as he slipped one hand around the back of his shoulder and turned him back toward the precinct building. “C’mon, let’s get you inside… you’re scarin’ the hell outta these people.”