#Slept like trash for no apparent reason. but this pretty first day of March makes up for that
Text
Having a fine Dutch friday morning so far
#Slept like trash for no apparent reason. but this pretty first day of March makes up for that#Impeccable lunch recipe: grilled gouda cheese + ham + red apple + onion + sea salt & pepper & rosemary & a little olive oil 🤌#personal#friday
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)
Thanks in advance and I hope your well.
Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.
****************
Soldier:
Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.
However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.
But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.
Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.
In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.
“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”
Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.
That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.
When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.
When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.
It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.
He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.
Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.
Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.
One day, he didn’t come back at all.
Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.
Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.
He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.
If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.
He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.
It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.
His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.
The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.
Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.
And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.
He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.
This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.
But the biggest change was his hair.
He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”
Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.
The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.
“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”
After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.
He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.
Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.
This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”
Engineer:
Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.
He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.
His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.
However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.
He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.
Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.
Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.
By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.
No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.
One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.
Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.
He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.
The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.
They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.
Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.
They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.
Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.
As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.
With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.
But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.
This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.
Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.
But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.
He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.
His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.
Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.
He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.
It just wasn’t worth it.
On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.
He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.
Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.
“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”
“Hm?”
“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”
Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.
It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.
Now he had the husband’s attention.
“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”
Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.
“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”
The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”
“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.
“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”
Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.
“We’ll keep in touch.”
Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.
He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.
There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:
“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”
#tf2#tf2 fandom#tf2 ask blog#tf2 headcanon#tf2 headcanons#tf2 engineer#engineer tf2#tf2 solly#send asks#ask blog#headcanon requests#lovely anon#thanks anon#thanks for the ask
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
Infection
Here is the Dakota infection fic that I mentioned before! There is emeto in this because I can't resist.
Content Warning: Description of infected wound, blood, vomiting
-------------------------
The smell of grilled sausages greeted Dakota before he opened his eyes. They were having a real fire-cooked breakfast that morning because Blair insisted on making the most of their camping trip. It didn’t matter that there were muffins in the car; they were in the great outdoors, and they would act like it, gosh darn it!
Madix and Riley appeared to only have gotten half the message because they were fine with roasted hotdogs, but not so eager to leave their phones in the cars. At least there was good music coming from the speakers. Ah Ariana Grande—the sound of nature.
It took Dakota’s groggy mind a second to remember that he spent the night in a tent, but his achy muscles soon reminded him. Actually, his whole body hurt as if he ran up and down a hill all day yesterday.
Oh wait, he did do that.
The four of them had walked to the lake where they found a rope swing attached to the biggest tree. It was the perfect spot for launching themselves into the water because of the hill that the tree grew from. So, they spent the day running back and forth between the water and the rope.
Their perfect camping grounds were hardly a secret, but that was okay because it meant someone provided them with a rope swing. Unfortunately, it also meant that the ground was littered with metal and glass from disrespectful campers. They picked up as mush as they could find before doing flips off the rope.
Apparently, they didn’t have the best eye for trash because Dakota’s foot found a piece of a glass bottle that they missed. He had been coming back from the water, soaking wet with the biggest grin on his face, ready to jump again, when the glass shard cut into the bottom of his foot. Now Dakota, like the campers who littered in the first place, had been quite drunk. He felt the pain, certainly, but he soon forgot about it when the water washed the blood away. Until he got back to the campsite where he covered the cut with a bandage, he walked around with his skin torn open.
Dakota didn’t know it, but that cut was what made him wake up with the sickest stomach, and it was the cut that would eventually make him collapse during a hike. Well, not the cut, but what got into it.
The bandage was still on his foot when he woke that morning to the smell of breakfast being cooked. The smell turned his upset stomach, forcing him to crawl out of the tent.
Everyone was already awake, meaning he must have slept in if Riley was up before him. Blair was kneeling by the fire, turning the sausages as they cooked. Madix and Riley were sitting in their camp chairs around the fire, munching on peanuts. Chipmunks joined them for breakfast as well. The little animals scurried to where Riley held his hand open. When Dakota zipped open the tent, his friends all looked his way.
“Morning, baby!” Blair called. Her hair was in a messy bun that Dakota knew for sure wasn’t done deliberately. She looked sunny and wonderful.
“How did you two sleep?” Madix asked while shooting a glance at Riley. “Hopefully, nobody invaded your sleeping bag in the night.”
“Hey, I told you I got cold.” Riley countered. “And I heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a bear.”
“And I told you there are no bear sightings in this forest.”
“Fine, it was a fox then.”
“What does—”
Dakota didn’t listen to his friend’s playful banter. It was a lovely morning with lovely company, but he wasn’t feeling so lovely. Everything from his head to his feet hurt, and one foot hurt more than the other. It almost felt like he had the flu, with burning eyes and aching muscles.
What made the morning even lovelier was seeing Blair so smiley. That at least helped how he was feeling. God, he really hoped he wasn’t getting the flu in the middle of the forest.
“I slept okay,” Blair said as she placed the sausages on a paper plate, “How about you, Kota? You’re waking up pretty late.”
Dakota couldn’t remember anything disrupting his sleep, but the fatigue in his bones made him question his answer. “I slept fine, but I feel weird.”
“Weird how?” Madix asked, accepting a plate from Blair.
“I don’t know. A little sick.”
“Well, you look sunburnt,” Riley said. “It’s probably from the heat.”
“Maybe.” Dakota shrugged and crossed his arms over his middle. The smell of the food was getting to him bad. It churned his stomach, reminding him of the reason he crawled out of the tent. He really didn’t want to worry Blair and take the smile away from her face, but he could feel the need to puke getting stronger. His mouth filled with saliva, and not because he was hungry.
While his friends ate, he pulled himself out of the chair and began walking away. He had to get far enough away so he wouldn’t upset Riley. Running wasn’t an option he discovered, as he needed to keep weight off his injured foot.
Dakota barely got twenty feet away from the fire before bending over with his hands on his knees. He only needed to burp once. The belch dislodged something in his stomach and suddenly he was retching up last night’s dinner onto the ground.
“Oh shit.” He heard Madix say. He didn’t know what Riley was doing, whether he was running away or covering his ears, but he felt bad either way. He hoped Riley was running away because he wasn’t close to being done.
By the time the second gush rushed up his throat, Blair was by his side. She patted his back as mostly-digested burgers and smores splattered at their feet. “Easy, babe.”
Dakota didn’t take it easy. He didn’t know how. He threw up everything in his stomach without stopping. He was hot and sweaty when he finished. Rather than feeling light-headed, he felt the opposite. His head pounded as if someone were trying to shove a million cotton balls in through his ears.
“Sorry,” he said simply while wiping his mouth. “That happened fast.”
Blair was still rubbing his back. “Are you hungover or something?”
“I don’t know.” This felt different from a hangover. He wanted to let his legs go out from under him. He wanted to lie down forever. He also didn’t want to stop Blair from having a good day.
“Are you okay? What do you need?” she asked, like he knew she would. She started leading him back to the tent with a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He let out a groan as he entered the tent. “I need to go back to sleep. I’m fucking exhausted.”
From outside, he heard Madix and Riley come back to the site. Madix poked his head into the tent. “Hangover or heat exhaustion, that is the question.”
“I’m sorry, Mads. I’m so sorry.” Dakota said with his hand over his eyes.
“Don’t feel bad. You couldn’t help it.” Madix looked back, probably checking on Riley. “Now, did you drink too much, or do I need to worry about heat stroke?”
God, no, Dakota thought to himself. Madix would undoubtedly make them pack up their tents if he had heat stroke. He didn’t think he was sick from drinking, but he wasn’t about to end their trip so soon. “I’m probably hungover. I just need to sleep it off.”
“Are you sure, baby?” Blair cooed while running her hand through his hair. “You don’t look good.”
“Listen, you guys go to the lake this morning while I rest, and I’ll be good to go on the hike this afternoon.”
Blair put two water bottles by his pillow. “You have to promise to drink lots of water.”
“I will, I promise.”
His friends eventually agreed to leave him in the tent to rest. Everyone wanted him to get better so that he could enjoy himself later.
Everything will be fine; it isn’t heat stroke. Dakota’s groggy mind replayed this sentence until he fell asleep.
He was right about it not being heat stroke, but wrong about the other thing.
…
Rustling in the nearby bushes woke Dakota from his nap. Checking his phone, he realized that he slept for nearly four hours. He let his head fall back onto his damp pillow. The nausea was slightly better, but everything else was worse. Every part of his body was throbbing in pain so maybe that’s why he didn’t bother to check the heat emanating up his ankle. Besides, there was enough heat on his forehead to roast that night’s marshmallows. The water bottles that Blair gave him were still full and now warm. He was sweating out every ounce of fluid left in his body, but the thought of filling stomach with liquid made him want to zip himself up into his sleeping bag and use it as a casket.
The rustling got louder and was accompanied by voices. It was his friends returning from the lake. For some reason Dakota suddenly thought that chugging the water bottles would make everyone happy. It would ease Blair’s worries about him being sick, and maybe it would even give him the energy to get up. And he wanted to get up so bad, so that’s what he did. He quickly found clothes in his duffel bag that would be good for hiking.
The water sloshed in his stomach as he greeted his friends around the firepit. He braced himself on the back of a chair and put a smile on his face.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Blair asked. She got up on her tiptoes—a sign for Dakota to bend down so she could kiss him.
“Better. I think a hike will be good for me.” Said no one ever who just finished puking their guts up. Dakota just said it, but he was a liar.
Apparently, he was a good liar. “Yay!” Blair exclaimed while swapping her flip flops for running shoes.
It wasn’t long before the group was ready for their hike. It was an uphill hike. Yippee, Dakota thought. It also wasn’t long before he started to fall behind in the marching order. Blair led the charge with Riley. The two of them played twenty questions while leading the way. Madix fell back as well. Dakota wasn’t being very subtle in his suffering. He knew that Madix was keeping an eye on him.
He huffed his way up the trail, feeling worse with every step. Feeling even worse with every other step as his right foot momentarily held his weight. He was back to being nauseous and dizzy, and feeling like the sky switched places with the earth. With how blurred his vision was, Dakota was surprised that he didn't trip. Maybe it would be okay to trip. It would give him a second to rest on the ground.
Aw hell, he didn’t need an excuse to rest.
Dakota called out to Madix in a weak voice. Luckily, Madix heard him even when a coughing fit broke up his request to stop. The coughing turned into gagging and forced Dakota back into the position from that morning with his hands on his knees. It was the sound of him gagging that made Madix call out to Riley and Blair, telling them to keep walking. He and Dakota would catch up soon.
Madix carefully stepped around protruding branches to reach his friend. “Why don’t you sit down.” He gestured to a group of large rocks on the side of the trail. Well, he picked a good place to stop.
Dakota held up a finger and then heaved up the water that sloshed and gurgled in his belly. It didn’t take many retches before the water was gone, leaving only bile left to throw up. One harsh retch had him toppling to the ground where he finished being sick on his hands and knees.
“Jesus, Kota,” Madix said while helping him up. “What, are we back in our undergrad?” He meant it as a joke; a throwback to the dorm room hangovers that made even water impossible to keep down. Madix’s easy expression turned serious when Dakota sat on the rock with his head in his hands. He looked bad. Far too sweaty for how little they walked. And something else seemed wrong. Madix put his hand on Dakota’s shoulder. “Hey, are you shaking?”
Dakota was indeed shaking. Shivering in the summer heat. “This is gonna sound ridiculous, but I’m cold.”
Madix frowned. He moved the hand that was on Dakota’s shoulder to the back of his neck. His skin was burning hot and slick with sweat. That wouldn’t have been too weird, but it was the shivering that worried Madix. “I think you have a fever. Something is making you sick and it isn’t the booze.”
Dakota was hardly listening. Everything hurt. He didn’t have the energy to theorize with Madix about what was making him feel like garbage. The ache in his head and his stomach was nothing compared to the throbbing inside his shoe.
“Dakota, are you hearing me? I want to take you back to the campsite.”
The boy didn’t move. He didn’t say anything as he bit his tongue in pain.
“Dakota?”
The shaking of his shoulders managed to pull him out of trance. “Sorry, sorry it’s my foot. It’s killing me.” He couldn’t take the pain anymore and kicked off his shoe. “I cut it the other day and it still hurts like hell.”
“Let me see,” Madix said, moving off the rock to get a better look. Immediately, the red and yellowish stain on Dakota’s sock made him worried.
Once Dakota took off the sock and the bandage, Madix recoiled with a hand over his mouth. “Oh God, fuck, why didn’t you say anything?” The smell hit Madix first. It wasn’t as bad as some wounds that he’d seen at the hospital, but it still caught him off the guard.
The cut was deep enough to warrant stitches, but the biggest problem was the yellow pus leaking from it. The entire bottom of his foot was red and swollen. After getting over the sight of the cut, Madix started thinking about how painful it must be to walk on.
“Is it bad?” Dakota asked, though he already knew the answer from the look on Madix’s face.
“Yeah, it’s bad. It’s infected.”
“Can you fix it?”
Madix shifted on his knees, trying to see the cut from a better angle. “If you showed it to me before it got this bad, then maybe, but not now. You need to go to the hospital.”
“Shit,” Dakota mumbled as he carefully put his sock and shoe back on.
Madix helped Dakota up and let him lean on him. “Shit is right. God, why do you make me worry so much?”
“It’s gonna make Blair worry too.” She was going to be even more upset than Madix. He hated being the reason she was upset. And it wasn’t even because he cut the trip short, but because he didn’t take better care of himself. “If only I weren’t so lovable.”
“Ha, you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Madix said breathlessly. It was a lot harder to hike when a whole person was hanging off your arm. “See, all the appeal was stored in your foot, and now we’ll have to cut it off.”
Shockingly, Madix was being facetious. There would be no foot chopping that day, or any day. There might be a scolding from Blair but that was it. The cleaning of the wound would hurt less than the look of concern that Blair would wear. It was that look that would eventually make Dakota paranoid about treating every single cut, no matter how small. He could never see that look again.
#emeto#emetophilia#emeto fic#emeto fiction#infection#fever#infected wound#tw blood#Dakota#Blair#Madix#Riley#vomiting#puking#camping#my ocs#sickfic
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
FFT: wedding crasher; lip gallagher
Notes:
So.. this was sent to my main’s ask... forever ago. And I have no idea who exactly sent it. So... thank you for whoever did, because this gave me a chance to play with an OC I had in mind for Shameless. That one day, I hope to God I get the chance to write it all out. Anyway, I wanted to put it here, on it’s own post, so it’s here... even though literally no one asked for it, lmao.
Summary:
Lip and Sage broke up. Lip hasn’t moved on. Sage wants to move on but she’s still in love with Lip. She’s being pressured into a marriage of convenience but Lip manages to save the day.
Pairing:
Lip Gallagher x OFC, Sage
Warning:
uhh.. swearing in a church, crashing a wedding, mentions of a fight, alcohol tw. It’s the gallaghers, okay? this stuff just goes with the territory.
“ Whoa, hey.. That’s Sage, go back.” Lip snatched the newspaper from Frank and Frank gave him a dirty look. “I was reading that, Lip.”
“And I don’t fucking care, Frank. The fuck are you doing here anyway, huh?” Lip went back to the page he’d seen a picture of Sage on and when he realized that it was in the area reserved for engagement announcements, his stomach churned and all the taste left his cereal.
He coughed and muttered quietly, “Well then. Guess that’s the end of that.”
From behind him Carl spoke up. “It doesn’t have to be. The line speak now or forever hold your peace is in the ceremony for a reason, Lip.” as he flopped down into the chair next to Lip.
“Yeah, well this ain’t the movies. If I go in there, it’s not gonna change anything. I’m not fuckin hungry all of a sudden.” and with that said, Lip shoved his chair at the table and grabbed his cigarettes and lighter. Fiona followed Lip and she found him sitting out behind the house on the stairs, smoking a cigarette.
All she could really do was put her arm around him.
“Hey.. You alright?”
“Not really, no. It should be me.. With her. But I fucked up. I bet she don’t even think about me.”
“Oh, so you’re just giving up?”
“What else can I do, huh? I don’t have my shit together. She deserves that outta me, at least.”
“You’re more together than you were before she left Southside. You’re not drinking anymore and when you do, you go to AA.. You’re tryin to get a better job. Hell, you’re even taking night classes at that junior college. You’re actually doin a lot better than me right now.” Fiona sighed, reaching for the cigarette.
The door opened behind them and Fiona looked up to find Ian standing there. He nodded back towards the inside of the house and mouthed to his sister, “Let me talk to him, yeah?” and as Fiona stood, Ian flopped down in her place. He stared at his hands for a minute.
“That marriage is a sham and if you let it happen, Lip..”
Lip looked over at his brother, a hand dragging over the back of his head as he exhaled smoke.
“Looked pretty damn legit to me.”
“He’s only marrying her because if he comes out, he loses everything. His parents are practically forcing him into it. He.. He comes into the club all the time, according to one of the guys who worked with me and still works there. Hell, I saw him there when I was going! He tried comin on to me.”
Lip looked up at Ian, a brow raised. “Huh?”
“I’m not making this up, I swear.. Look, the guy said he’s there every fucking night and every night he leaves with a different man. One of my other friends said he’s seen the guy out all over town with different guys too. Always says they’re friends if he’s asked by anybody.” Ian bit his lip and took a deep breath, reaching for the cigarette and taking a puff.
“You love her, right?”
“Never stopped.”
“So do something. Stop sitting on your ass and being all moody and shit.” Ian stood and wiped his hands down his jeans and then told him calmly, “If you decide you wanna go stop that shit show of a wedding.. Tell me.”
Lip said he wasn’t.. But for the rest of the week, everything Ian said and everything Fiona pointed out, even something Frank told him out of the blue and totally out of context just made him think about it all over again.
He had to do something, even if it made things even worse between them.
X
The gown was perfect. Everyone was crammed into the church and yet, Sage couldn’t shake this��� Feeling that somehow, everything was all wrong. Her sister Marla could tell and after a few seconds of watching Sage pacing the room where they were all getting ready, she spoke up.
“If you’re not sure.. All I gotta do, sis, is go out there and tell them this whole thing is off. Look, I know Zack has done a lot for us.. But that doesn’t mean you have to actually go through with marrying the guy.”
“Marla, you’re supposed to be talking me out of cold feet.”
“If you’re not happy, you’re not happy.” Sage’s other sister True spoke up from the doorway. Sage took a deep breath and attempted to plaster on her best happy face but both Marla and True saw right through it.
True shut the door and paced the room. Carl being her boyfriend, she knew exactly how the news of her sister’s wedding affected a certain Gallagher male.. And True and Carl both agreed that Sage was just going through the motions.. That she was taking the easy way out because she felt like she owed this guy Zack so much because he’d ‘done so much’ to help the family out.
“He’s not who I saw you with.” True finally said it and Marla mumbled quietly, “Oh thank fuck. I wasn’t… I wanted to say something the second or third time you bought the guy back to Dad’s for Thanksgiving.. But I thought you were happy..”
“Yeah?” Sage took a deep breath and glanced at her sister, True. “Who did you see me with? Because if you say who I think you’re about to.. He’s the one who pushed me out. He’s the one who wouldn’t let me help him or be there for him. I never wanted things to end and I… Damn it, True, now my mascara’s gonna run.”
Marla sat down by her sister and lazily draped an arm around her. “You don’t owe that guy shit. Look, he did what he did because he wanted to.”
“No, he did what he did because he knew…” Sage struggled with a way to voice her suspicions that didn’t make her sound like she was ungrateful or bitter at the way he spent less and less time around her lately.. The late nights, the fact that he occasionally slept in his office under the guise of ‘work’..
Something hadn’t felt right in weeks now.. Something about him had kind of covertly nagged at her subconscious from the beginning. And her soon to be mother in law absolutely hated her.
“Knew what?” Marla tensed, sharing a look with her sister. True bit her lip and repeated Marla’s question. “He knew what, Sage?”
“He knew it was the easiest way to get into my life..”
True took a deep breath. Things were tension filled enough without her losing her hairtrigger temper and going on a rampage that ended with a high heel protruding from her soon to be brother in law’s eye.
Mrs. Gaines peeked in, a scowl on her face.
“ Can someone come out and explain to this.. Man.. that he can’t sit on our side of the church? He’s making a spectacle in front of my guests.”
Marla glared and as soon as she heard their father’s drunken voice, she and Sage and True all shared a look and took a collective deep breath.
Sage laughed quietly and Marla stood, making no effort to hide her own bitchy smirk as she shoved past her sister’s soon to be mother in law. “Monster in law is what they oughta call you.”
“If I had my way, your sister and the rest of you would be.. Nothing.. To my family.”
“If only miracles happened, hmm?” Marla stopped to look at the woman, a hand on her hip. “Sage, just.. Think about what you’re getting into for fucks sake.” and with that, Marla ventured out into the church in an attempt to both give her sister time to really think about what she was going to waste herself over, and to reign in their father who’d apparently picked today of all days to fall face first off the sobriety wagon.
Marla gaped almost as soon as she saw who was with her father, the two holding each other up. True hurried over with Carl and Ian in tow.
“We tried to stop them.” Carl explained as Ian chuckled and nodded to Carl. “He did. Me? I let ‘em go. I’ve got a bad feeling about the douche she’s about to marry.”
“Oh?” Marla eyed the ginger male and Ian got her off to the side detailing exactly why he felt like the wedding was happening and what Sage’s father and Lip apparently spent half the night before and this morning itself talking about.
“Where’s Sage, darlin? Daddy b-bought ‘er a w-wedding present.” at their father’s words, Marla turned away from Ian and sighed. “Daddy, what the hell..”
“W-where’s Sage? I-i need t-to talk to her. G-gonna s-stop this whole thing.”
That was from Lip and Ian, Carl, True and Marla shared a look and Marla took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose to ward off a fit of irritation. Marla eyed her father and Lip, who lingered nearby, not really saying anything.
The wedding march started and Marla and True shared a look as Ian and Carl told them both, “We’ll get these two in a seat.. You guys just get back there.”
True stole a kiss from Carl and hurried to the back. The door closed behind the three sisters and Sage stared at it solemnly, swallowing hard.
“Was daddy okay?”
“He fell face first off the sobriety wagon.”
From nearby, Sage’s soon to be mother in law let out an exasperated breath. “But of course he did. Your entire family is..”
Sage was sick of biting her tongue. And she was not about to let this woman spend her entire life talking down to her like she was trash. “Shut the fuck up or get the fuck out. No one asked you to come in here.”
“No, but I had to make sure you two actually walk down that aisle..”
Sage’s brow knit as she gazed at the woman.
Was Zack having cold feet too?
“Whether you two like it or not, you will be marrying today. I’m not.. Willing to risk any further scandal with my son. Between him choosing.. Well, you.. And all the time he spends down at that god awful club..”
“Club? What club?” Sage’s stomach churned and if she’d had a thought about just making a break for it, that thought was intensifying with each word Zack’s mother said.
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, do not play coy with me. You and he have your little arrangement, he’s chosen you specifically to teach me a lesson.. A lesson in which he will be learning for himself, because despite what he believes, he will be getting nothing from his father and I in the future. You know exactly what I mean. You two were in on this together, you little gold digger…”
Marla’s entire body tensed and she stood body to body with Sage’s mother in law, -mostly to keep Sage and the woman separate, because for a split second, she’d seen that fire back in her sister’s eyes and she’d felt it the second Sage tensed up.
“ If I call this entire thing off, there’s not really much you can do.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid or brave enough to do that. Now.. Get your makeup fixed. Go on.”
Sage tensed even more. She was beyond fed up with the woman and the way she acted, the way she treated her and the rest of her family. “No.”
“What the hell do you mean no? You get in that chair and get your makeup fixed this instant! You will not like the..” but the threat was cut off in mid sentence when Marla grabbed the woman’s elbow and guided her roughly to the door, opening it and shoving it out. “If she needs time to think you uppity bitch, you will give her that.”
Before the woman could reply, Marla slammed the door shut in her face, but not before Lip and Sage got a glance of each other again and Sage stood there, biting her lip, staring helplessly and sighing at his disheveled appearance.
True caught the look her sister was giving Lip Gallagher and she leaned against the door, picking at her nails as she told Sage quietly, “If you want this called off.. All you have to do is say the word. I’ll go get Joe Jr to say something. People tend to really listen to him.”
Sage paced, letting everything her so called mother in law spouted off at her sink in. She honestly believed it was an arrangement of convenience between Sage and her son. She hinted that Zack might not be entirely truthful either and when Sage really stopped to think about things lately between them, her stomach churned as she realized that as much as she hated to admit it, Zack’s mother was right.
She hadn’t felt secure about this at all and lately, the insecurity was more than double.
Zack stayed away more, he stayed at work later. Anything to avoid seeing her.
To be fair, she found herself thinking, she’d done the same on more than one occasion.
“Well? They’re starting the whole thing..” Marla asked and True tapped her combat boot against the floor impatiently, her arms folded as she stared at her sister intently. Marla did the same and Sage bit her lip.
Before she could get the words out of her mouth, the door burst open like someone ninja kicked it and Lip stumbled in with Carl and Ian in tow, both trying to keep him on his feet. Lip stumbled over to her and grabbed her, pulling her completely against him. Not caring who saw, his hand cupped her jaw and he pulled her mouth against his, lifting her off the floor slightly. Sage could smell the booze on him, she could taste it in his mouth.
All she could do was what she felt.. Her lips parted and she went from trying to push him away to gripping a handful of his tee shirt, raised to tiptoe before he picked her up a little.
She’d ask him what happened and why he was drinking again later.. For now, this was more important.
“Was s-supposed t’ be me.”
“Oh Lip..” she mumbled quietly, breaking the kiss to look up at him, raising a hand to rest it at his cheek.
Marla grumbled and True cleared her throat.
“The wedding is off.” Sage said the words without a second’s hesitation and True smirked, sharing a look with Marla.
“So, which one of us is gonna go tell Monster In Law, hmm?”
“Oh, no.. let me.”
Before either of them could go find her so called mother in law to break the news, Sage strode out of the room, straight up to the woman, tapping her shoulder.
She took the microphone the woman held and cleared her throat. “If you came to see a wedding today, I hate to tell you that’s not what will be happening. If you bought a gift, pick it up on your way out.”
“You little… ungrateful…”
Zack eyed Sage with a raised brow, “Babe? What’s going on, talk to me… We have people here. I’m going to look stupid in front of all the partners at the firm..”
“And I give a fuck? Why don’t you ask Mommy Dearest here why I’m calling the wedding off?I mean.. She did practically threaten me if I didn’t go through with this. Thinks we’re working together to rip her off. Little does she know, I could give a rats ass about her damn money. Or yours, for that matter.”
“What the hell are you saying right now? Are you dumping me?”
“Wow.. you really are as slow as I kept telling my sister.” Sage’s brother Clint gave an annoyed roll of his eyes and spoke up. Marla snickered and nudged Ian, leaning in. “So… do we just watch the fireworks? Frankly, I feel it’s beyond time this asshole rips off his mask and shows his real ugly.”
“Yeah.. I’d say so. If he starts saying anything about her, You try to reign in your brothers, I’ll try to get Lip under control so he doesn’t get hauled in…”
“Stay the hell out of this, Clint.”
“Or what? You finally gonna do what you threatened last year when you found out it was me and Carl who took that shitty BMW for a joyride?”
Sage’s gaze fixed on Zack.
“You seriously threatened my brother and Carl?”
“They’re out of control. The authorities..”
“So you’re the fucking reason my brother and his best friend were sent off to juvie for six months. Yeah, this wedding is definitely off.”
“Think about what you’re doing here.. I can get you the hell out of that neighborhood. I can give you things.”
Marla rolled her eyes and mocked him. “They sell vibrators every day.”
“How dare you insult my son!” Zack’s mother spoke up and Sage rolled her eyes. “Oh will you just for once in your entire life.. Stay the fuck out of a personal matter? You and your helicopter parenting, I swear to fuck..”
Zack cleared his throat. “You’d better watch your mouth. She is my mother and she has done a lot for us. You especially.”
From the back of it all, Lip was overheard telling Carl, “It’s not f-fuckin workin. Can I hit the a-asshole now?” and before anyone could stop him, Lip shoved through the crowd gathered and gawking and pressed against Sage from behind, his fist sailing over her shoulder and connecting neatly with Zack’s nose.
“She said the wedding’s off, damn.” Lip stood taller, defiant gleam in his eyes, practically daring Zack to say or do anything. He’d put Sage behind him, now it was him standing toe to toe with her so called groom, a malicious smirk on his face. “C’mon. Let’s see y’ lose all that cool and calm.”
“You seriously want to fight me.. Over her?”
“No, I just wanna beat ya ass. She doesn’t need me to defend her. Probably would one hell of a lot better than you, I mean from what I’m hearin, you’re always gone, leavin her all alone. No way in hell would I.. do that.”
Zack shoved him and Lip shoved back, the fight breaking out before anyone could really stop it. And in the midst of it, a man ran up, pulling Zack away, swearing and shit talking Lip all the while.
“You’d better keep your hands off my man or I’ll..”
“You’ll what, hmm? Bitch about it to all ya little high society friends at brunch? Come at me, man. Your man started all of this.”
Sage blinked as what was happening registered. She managed to quickly grab hold of Lip just as the sound of sirens filled the air and the two of them were leaving out the back door of the church, her siblings and his hot on their tail to beat the cops away.
The further away the sirens got, the more Sage grew to hate her stupid dress. She tapped Lip and stopped him. He leaned against the brick wall in the alley behind The Alibi Room and Sage tore away the bottom portion of the dress, throwing it towards a dumpster with a disgusted face. Their siblings had all gone into the diner Fiona worked at, leaving the two of them alone. Sage stared up at him intently, migrating closer and closer with each second that passed, the palm of her hand resting against his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt as she used that to pull his lips d own to her lips.
“We are still having a very serious discussion about you drinking again.. Among other things.. But I.. seeing you today, Lip. I realized how much I… wanted this to be me and you and just how close I came to wasting all that… I’m so so so so so sorry..”
Lip tilted her face so that she had to look up and directly at him when he chuckled and leaned down, pulling her into another deep kiss. “Nothin to apologize for. I’m right here, baby girl. Right here and I’m not goin anywhere.”
“Me either.”
#lip gallagher fanfiction#lip gallagher fanfic#lip gallagher fic#lip gallagher oneshot#lip gallagher imagine#// fluff#// antics and shenanigans
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
Connor X Reader - Do You Dream? Chapter 4
Chapter 4 - Confession
A/N – This is a redo of my last chapter because I wasn’t happy with how I ended it. Anyway, I would like to dedicate this chapter to @uh-kitty-got-wet because without their amazing Connor X Reader stories, I wouldn’t have been inspired to go back and fix this. So thank you so much, you have an amazing blog and your writing has so much potential; I hope you continue to pursue it.
Warnings – Mild themes of sexual violence.
Rating – M
Connor remained in place, still holding you from the previous night. While he hadn’t slept or gone into recharge, he had dreamed; his mind had weaved a perfect assortment of future desires of a life with you, sharing the domesticities of an everyday relationship. He was all too aware you would soon wake up and he’d have no reason to go on holding you. Briefly, he let himself slip back into the realm of daydreams, imagining a world wherein you’d wake up and he’d kiss your neck and you would reciprocate with a smile. The idea made his thirium pump flutter; it wasn’t too long ago that he couldn’t imagine anything at all, lacking the free-will to do so.
Slowly and reluctantly, Connor let you go, deciding he didn’t want to be told to do so when you woke up. Silently, he picked up his clothes, only putting his shirt back on, folding the waistcoat and jacket and leaving them on the bed. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows so he at least looked semi-casual. You stirred in your sleep, snuggling back into your pillows, not quite ready to wake up. Connor smiled, barely resisting the urge to kiss your forehead; he refused to have his first kiss with you while you were asleep, should it happen at all.
Stealthily Connor crept downstairs, straightening up the house on his way to the kitchen. Although he hadn’t been built as a personal carer or service android, he had downloaded a memory update full of cooking lessons and recipes. After the revolution, Cyberlife Industries had stopped building androids and instead released updates for them so they could choose exactly who and what they wished to be; Connor had bought several carer updates so he could better care for Hank.
As Connor began preparing eggs benedict for you, he heard the creak of floorboards upstairs, indicating you were up and beginning your morning routine. By the time you were dressed and downstairs, your meal was waiting for you on the small, two-person dining table where Connor sat opposite.
“Morning Robocop,” You smiled, sitting yourself down for breakfast.
“You talk in your sleep,” He said playfully.
“Do not.”
“And you snore.”
“Do not,” You repeated more firmly.
“I could play a recording if you don’t believe me.”
“Liar, you didn’t record me sleeping,” You reached over the table, punching his arm lightly.
“Think of what the precinct will say when they see it. You’ll lose all credibility; nothing will ever be the same.”
“Whatever nerd. What about you? After watching me sleep like a psycho, did you get any?” You asked, scooping up a fork full of egg.
Connor thought of his daydreams, “In a manner of speaking.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Do you dream?”
Connor scrubbed a hand through his hair, “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“What did you dream of? Wait, let me guess, you dreamed of Gavin waiting for you in a saucy outfit, ready to take your bromance to the next level.”
It was Connor’s turn to swat you, “Never put that image in my head again.”
“’Kay so what’s the plan today? We got the luxury of two days off in a row, so am I on my own today or are you with me to cause some havoc? And by havoc, I mean shopping and other boring adult crap.”
“No time to paint the town red today, I have to see Hank about something,” Connor said evasively, neglecting to mention that the ‘something’ was you.
“To ask him if he’s seen saucy Gavin?”
“Please stop saying saucy.”
“Only for you Robocop,” You winked, tucking into your breakfast.
After you dropped Connor off, he went into Hank’s small house which had become just as much his own since their first case together. Although Connor wanted to wake Hank the moment you left to tell him about his unusual night with you, he waited till noon when Hank usually woke up; the last time he’d woken Hank up early had not been a good day for Connor.
Entertaining himself with Sumo, Connor waited as patiently as he could, finding mindless patience so much harder than it used to be before he deviated. Finally, Hank emerged, a faint odour of liquor that Connor didn’t approve of lingering on his breath; while he had reduced how much he drank greatly, Hank still had no desire to beat his alcoholism fully yet.
Connor straightened up, leaving Sumo belly up, clearly waiting for more petting. “Hank, good, you’re awake. How was your night?”
Hank ignored him, heading straight to the bathroom instead. When he re-emerged, he looked tiredly at Connor who repeated his question. “Cut the crap Connor. I know you’re waiting to ask me about (Y/N). Just spit it out already. What happened last night?”
While Hank prepared a mug of coffee, Connor wondered exactly how to explain the events of the previous night. Smiling somewhat goofily, he answered, “I slept with her.”
Hank’s mug smashed against the floor as he grabbed Connor by his shirt collar, throwing him against the wall. Anger seethed out of him, barely forming into words, “YOU DID WHAT?”
Connor’s LED span yellow upon realising his mistake. He grabbed Hank’s arms gently, careful not to anger him further, “Hank, please-”
“SHUT UP! I TOLD YOU TO WATCH A FUCKIN’ MOVIE. (Y/N) ISN’T TRASH YOU CAN USE LIKE THAT. IF I HAD MY GUN NOW, I’D-”
“HANK!” Connor waited till he knew Hank was really listening before continuing. “That’s not what I meant.”
“WHAT DID YOU MEAN THEN?”
“I meant that (Y/N) and I shared a bed. I asked what sleeping was like and she-”
Hank rolled his eyes, his grip loosening, “She encouraged you, as fuckin’ usual.”
Connor nodded, his LED slowly returning to its default blue, though the occasional flicker of yellow could still be seen; it never once turned red wherever Hank was concerned, for he never truly felt threatened by his father-figure. Finally, Hank conceded, letting Connor go.
“Should’ve guessed. (Y/N)’s into all that ‘experiencing life’ shit. By that tone, it still wasn’t a date. What the hell is wrong with you Connor? Couldn’t get up the nerve?”
Connor straightened his shirt indignantly. “It’s like I said, she didn’t know it was a date.”
“Jesus,” Hank cursed, leaning back against the counter. “Back in my day people knew when they were on a date. That’s it, I’m taking Sumo out, you… I don’t know, figure out how to talk to women. Download one of those stupid pack things.”
Connor frowned annoyedly, ���They don’t make android upgrades with dating advice.”
Hank grabbed a coat and slipped on his coat, grabbing a lead from the coat rack. “Send in a complaint then, see if I care. Whatever you do, just treat (Y/N) right. I won’t see her hurt because of this.” He whistled for Sumo, who slowly lumbered towards him.
Connor was once again left alone, more worried than before over how too woo you, without hurting you emotionally. He thought momentarily about the roses he’d ordered that would be on your desk the next day; that made him smile, there would be no mistaking those. All he had to do until then was wait and maybe prepare a speech, should you want more than what flowers would say.
Connor grinned to himself upon spotting his roses on your desk, simply waiting to be discovered. How would you feel when you read the note that simply said, ‘From Robocop’?
He hoped you would be pleased and reciprocate his romantic feelings, but he was fully prepared for things to go the other way; he had two speeches prepared, one for acceptance and the other for rejection. He considered removing the card several times but it was too late now, there were a few officers milling around and any one of them could see him and tell you.
Keeping himself busy, Connor headed to the kitchen to bring you a cup of green tea, stopping by the entrance when he saw you enter the precinct. His artificial breath caught in his throat, a sensation he still found odd considering he didn’t need to breathe. Resisting the urge to fidget, Connor’s eyes tracked you on the way to your desk, his lips turning up slightly at the corners upon seeing the shock on your face. You glanced around for anyone who might have left the bouquet, half-expecting it to be some kind of joke; Connor did his best to avoid your gaze, leaning casually against the wall.
You picked up the card at the centre of the bouquet, any trace of happiness vanishing from your face as you held it with shaking hands. Connor felt his thirium pump drop at your expression; he couldn’t pin what you were feeling, but it certainly wasn’t anything good. He found himself reaching for his coin, stroking it absentmindedly in his pocket as he prepared to make his rejection speech that would allow the two of you to still be friends. Taking a few steps forward, his legs felt like lead and he found he had to stop, just in time to watch you march towards Gavin who had just walked in.
Gavin smiled cheekily, “If it isn’t my pretty little-”
“Shut it,” You warned in hushed tones, glaring at him fiercely; Connor would have given anything to hear what the two of you were saying at that moment.
“What’s got into you?” Gavin sneered.
You shoved the card into his chest, “You think this is some kind of joke? If it is, it’s not funny.”
Gavin skim-read the card, his lips pressing firmly together as he re-read it twice more. He shook his head, “Come on,” He grabbed your arm, leading you into the Captain’s office.
Connor watched everything unfold in the glass cage that housed the Captain. He didn’t know what was going on, but this was so much more than his card on the bouquet. The Captain was apparently shouting, though not loud enough to be heard in the bullpen. He kept pointing at you, then yelling some more before he eventually slumped in his seat, dismissing you and Gavin while he got to work on his computer. Now that you and Gavin were facing his direction, Connor could read Gavin’s lips as he told you to wait for him while he made some calls. That gave Connor all the time he needed to approach you and find out what was going on.
“(Y/N), is something wrong? What was that with the Captain?”
You didn’t answer, instead holding out the bouquet card for Connor to read, which he did in a second.
Detective (L/N),
I know who you are and where you live.
Should you continue to hunt me, you will find me, hunting you.
Sincerely, The Fornication Flayer.
If it wasn’t evidence, Connor would have torn the card up right there. How dare that murderer use Connor’s bouquet to threaten you! Controlling himself, Connor simply said, “I’ll check the security footage and have this analysed immediately.”
You shook your head, trying to organise your thoughts, “Uh… Gavin- Gavin’s already doing that. I need to um- The Captain’s told me to go home today to check surveillance near my place. I should go.”
You took a few dazed steps away but Connor grabbed your hand, “I’m coming with you.”
You didn’t argue, instead taking support in Connor’s firm grip and fighting away any fear you held that a serial killer was now targeting you; the realisation was terrifying.
You fell to your knees, covering your mouth to fight the whimpers escaping it. Until now, you never actually believed The Flayer knew where you lived, only where you worked. Yet, as you looked around at the remains of your apartment, there was no denying that by acting as bait, you’d certainly caught his attention.
Currently, you were in the remains of your kitchen where you and Connor had been laughing a mere day before. Had the Flayer been waiting outside then for you to leave so he could get a good look at you? Between the drive to and back from the DPD, he’d had a window of exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes to destroy everything you owned, or so Connor told you. You picked up the shards of a broken vase that had been a gift from your parents when you’d first moved in, cutting your thumb on the sharp edge and dropping it.
“Careful,” Connor said, pulling you up and examining the cut. The glass crunched as he walked over it to a ransacked drawer, bringing back some anti-sceptic spray and a plaster. He took care of the tiny cut as efficiently as he’d taken care of everything else since he’d stepped into the apartment. While you had looked at the broken remnants of your life, thinking only of the damage, it had been Connor who’d updated the precinct, searched your apartment, pieced together what little he could of the puzzle, and recovered a few clothes for you to take to Hank’s where he insisted you would stay.
“What um-” You tried to get over your shock to form the necessary words, “Did you find any DNA traces?”
Connor swallowed anxiously; he couldn’t bare to tell you about the large quantity of semen that ruined your bed which was why he hadn’t let you into your room. He shook his head, going for a half-truth, stroking your hand gently the entire time, “Not even a hair or fingerprint.”
“Any more notes or anything that will lead us to him?”
“Nothing yet, but I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I promise I’ll find this guy for you (Y/N).”
You took a shaky breath, gritting your teeth, “Not before I do. He’s gonna pay for this shit.”
Connor squeezed your hand, “Come on, Hank’s on his way up. He can deal with the Captain. Let’s go home.”
Reluctantly, you turned away from the mess that used to be your home, letting Connor lead you away; one way or another, you would make it your home again once you knew it was safe to do so.
After three weeks of working 24-7 on the Flayer case with Gavin, being guarded at work and at Hank’s by whoever was with you at the time, sleeping on a lumpy sofa, and being woke up most nights by startling nightmares that you kept quiet, you decided the only thing to do was ‘grin and bear it.’ It would be so easy to be scared and miserable, but that was exactly what the Fornication Flayer wanted from you. Instead, you defied him by finding joy in your life, taking time to smile with Connor and Hank, and persisting to hunt the Flayer with every free moment at work.
Your optimistic attitude was the cause of Hank’s irritation on your twenty-first day as his house guest. He rolled his eyes from the sofa, grumbling, “Can you two knock it off with that sappy shit? I’m trying to watch the game.”
You stopped your conversation with Connor about android-human relations, a topic he seemed increasingly interested in of late. Glancing almost boredly at the recording of the previous night’s basketball game, you rolled your eyes, “Spoiler alert Hank, we lose by ten points.”
You could almost feel Hank’s seething hatred for your depreciation of sports; ever since you’d moved in, he hadn’t had a quiet night to watch any kind of sports. “I know the fuckin’ score kid.”
“Then why are you watching it?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you in my own damn house.”
You got up to argue, though you weren’t really sure why you were doing so. Mainly, you were just bored and pushing Hank’s buttons once in a while was fun, but you also knew you were being a deliberate pain because you were growing frustrated at the lack of change in your life; while you loved both Hank and Connor like family, being escorted everywhere grew irritating very quickly.
Connor grabbed your shoulders, holding you back in a friendly manner, “Come on (Y/N), stop teasing Hank.”
You knew you ought to listen to Connor and stop, but for a moment you wondered what kind of fun you could have if you kept going. Hank saved you from making a choice by throwing up his hands, “Forget it, I’m going to Jimmy’s; there’s a new game on there tonight anyway.”
You bit your lip guiltily; you didn’t mean to chase Hank to Jimmy’s, and more importantly, you didn’t want him to go out drinking when you still held hopes of him going sober.
“Hey um…” You looked to the floor bashfully, not used to apologising often for your mischievous behaviour, “You stay and watch your game, I’ll go out for a walk until it’s over. I uh- Sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”
Hank sat down grumpily, accepting your apology without much complaint, yet clearly thinking about the drinks he was going to miss at Jimmy’s Bar. Connor released you, walking over to the shoe rack to get his shoes on, your ever vigilant bodyguard. Once the two of you were ready, you and Connor headed out onto the cold Detroit streets.
You sat on the bench outside the park where Hank used to take Cole. It had become something of a staple meeting place for you, Hank and Connor between cases. Looking out at the waterfront, you felt the sadness that you had tried so hard to fight building to an all-time high. Beside you, Connor watched you empathetically.
“Penny for your thoughts,” He finally said when it looked like you were going to cry.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” You sighed.
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t have to pick on Hank like that. I just got so damn frustrated… Connor, it’s been weeks and we’re no closer to catching the Flayer. What’s to say we ever will? I can’t be watched forever. I’ll go mad.”
Connor put his hand over yours, replying confidently, “We’ll catch him (Y/N).”
You looked into his eyes, “How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re a great detective, surrounded by even more great detectives.” Connor paused thoughtfully, before adding, “And Gavin, I guess.”
At that you couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped you, as pitiful as it sounded compared to your usual bright laughter.
“What did I do to deserve you, Connor?” You smiled.
Connor’s thirium pump beat anxiously against his chest. He couldn’t help thinking this was his moment to confess. He could tell you now that he loved you. The two of you were alone, the stars were out, it was a moderately romantic setting, overlooking the waterfront, and the two of you had just shared an intimate moment of confidence.
Everything was perfect for a confession, or at least it would be if Connor could speak. It felt like his throat had constricted and that no matter how hard he tried Connor could not form words past the lump in his throat.
‘Please, say something. Make this right. Don’t waste this moment,’ He silently pleaded.
Your eyebrows furrowed at Connor’s sudden silence, and you glanced at his swirling yellow LED. “Con, you okay?”
Panicked, Connor jerked towards you, crushing his lips against yours. You froze in shock upon feeling his hand grasp the back of your head to pull you closer. Quickly, you pushed him off you and stood up, backing against the shore railing.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You demanded, a hurt look clouding your eyes.
Connor stared at you, his LED turning red and betraying his emotions. “(Y/N), I- I thought-”
You shook your head as angry tears blurred your vision, “Stop. Just, stop.”
Connor blinked back his own tears, too hurt to talk.
“Do you have any idea how hard everything is for me right now, Connor? I don’t have any control of my life. I can’t go home. Everywhere I go requires an escort. Do you know how humiliating it is to have Hank stand outside the ladies’ bathroom when we go shopping? I can’t even go out for a walk on my own. I don’t have a life right now. Fuck- I don’t even have a bed.” You realised you were ranting, but you couldn’t stop as your mind tumbled into a swirling vortex of confusion.
“Jesus. Fuck. I spend every second at work trying to track a serial killer who is always five steps ahead of me.”
Connor stood up and took a step towards you, with pleading eyes, “(Y/N)-”
“No,” You held up your hand in a stop motion, “You don’t get to speak. I asked you Connor- I fucking asked if you had feelings for me.” That wasn’t exactly true, but you couldn’t help thinking of that night at the Forbidden Fruit when Connor had invited you to a ‘stakeout.’ You had a feeling it was supposed to be a date, though Connor had denied it.
“I know…” Connor replied quietly, his voice barely a whisper.
“Why did you lie?”
“I was scared.”
You wiped your eyes, covering your mouth afterwards. Shaking your head again, you spoke, “I can’t- I just can’t deal with this right now. Shit- Give me a minute.”
Connor watched you walk away, though being under his protection, you had the sense to stay where he could see you. You pulled out your phone and Connor hoped you weren’t calling Hank about this. He wondered how he could have been so stupid. Of course this wasn’t the time. If he’d have been thinking at all, Connor would have considered everything you were going through. It wasn’t fair of him to try starting a relationship with you now. In that moment, Connor found himself hating the human emotions that plagued him; if he were still a machine, this wouldn’t ever have been a problem.
Finally, your phone call ended and you were walking sullenly towards him again, though you kept a safe distance while you spoke. “We’ve got to wait here for a while.”
“Why?” Connor asked. It didn’t make sense for you to wait in the cold when Hank’s house was only a short walk away.
“Because, Gavin’s coming here to pick me up.”
“Wha-”
“I’ll be staying with him until I figure a few things out… Besides, we’re going to try working the case together, while I’m there.”
Connor felt like his world was ending. Somehow, he had chased you towards the man he hated most in his day-to-day life. How would he live, knowing that he wasn’t going to see you every day? Finally, Connor understood what humans meant by ‘heartbreak.’
Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.
#Connor#connor x reader#connor x fem reader#dbh#detroit become human#Detroit: BH#detroit connor#hank#hank anderson#reader#reader insert#fanfiction#fanfic#Do You Dream?#do you dream#chapter 4#confession
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Second to the table!
About seven months had passed by since I’d hit and killed the cyclist. After the man had been cremated, I received a nice cheque through the post, from my insurance company. I’d also received a sum of money from the man’s family to try and ease the burden of the situation. In no way did they blame me for the accident and if anything, they were feeling guilty of putting me through such an experience. Truth be told, it really didn’t bother me one bit and over the days, weeks and months, i kind of forgot about it but the money received was welcomed.
I managed to pay of some small debt, purchase myself a newer vehicle and save a friends life. Chris had called me on my mobile phone crying his eyes out, his life was in danger and he didn’t know what to do.
Chris and I had known each other since nursery and had gone through the school system together, we were in the some football team, same drama classes and even joined the army cadets with one another. Our parents used to joke that we were like a married couple. We played the same video games and when online gaming became popular, we would play together when ever we had the time. As we got older, we both had our first sexual experiences in the same night. We were at some random party and we had hooked up with these two girls from out of town. By the end of the night we had grown from boys to men!
The online gaming would continue and so would our weekend partying. We both experienced alcohol together, we were drunk and hung over together. We got to the point were would would see who could sleep with more girls, who could conquer more and as far as i remember, our scores were pretty close if not even. It was at one of these parties that we would meet two girls who introduced us to something that would see our lives go in complete and opposite directions.
Cocaine. I didn’t really get a buzz and couldn’t see the attraction to the drug especially when I heard from one of the girls how much it costs. “F*ck that!”I thought to myself, I could buy the latest video games with that kind of money. Chris however, loved it. Every Friday and Saturday night he would be somewhere doing cocaine, Friday and Saturday evenings would then stretch to Sundays and before long, I had heard he had lost his job for not showing up. Evidently, he was on a constant cocaine binge or a come down.
I remember being in a pub one night and bumped in to a friend of Chris who told me he was worried about Chris. He had turned to Heroin and was a right state. Apparently his parents had paid thousands to put him through rehab but as soon as he was out, he would binge again. They would try ‘tough love’ and kicked him out of their home. They didn’t want to see him on the streets so they paid 3 months rent at a property in the less than desirable part of town, hoping this would make him see sense. The truth is, this was paradise for him because he was surrounded by like minded people, scum, and if he wasn’t high, he was asleep.
The next evening is when I received the phone call from Chris. He told me he had no food, no clothing (apart from what he was wearing), no electricity and no money. I told him to call his parents or sister but they’d all gone on a family holiday to Turkey. I asked him why he had no money and he blurted that he had been stupid and lost his job. He said he was addicted to the drugs and needed help. I thought to my self he’d been to rehab but that wasn’t the help he was looking for. He had literally two hours to find money to pay his dealer otherwise he would get ‘it’. He needed 5 grand. I asked who his dealer was and he mentioned a name that was familiar, low and behold it was one of my brothers’ good friends. Some one i would never have guessed was in the drug business. I told Chris i would be over within the hour with the money, I mean the guy was a childhood friend and i kind of disassociated myself from him when he started participating in drug usage, maybe I should’ve been more pro active. As he was talking, good memories came back to me, from school trips to join family holidays.
You may be asking yourself who the hell has five grand in cash just ready to dish out? Well, I did because i’d always dreamed of going into a bank and ordering a large sum of cash. It was nothing special. Never the less, I drove to where Chris was living and he met me outside, the idiot never even invited me in for a coffee. Then again, he probably didn’t have any, hell the guy didn’t even have any food. Chris hugged me and said thank you. I looked in his eyes and held him tight, I said “Bro, we’re going to get you better. Sort your shit out and tomorrow we begin to pull you from the hole you’ve dug yourself”
I felt confident. On the way home I decided to pop in and see my brother, who made me the best steak I had ever tasted. I was chilled out and my brother offered me a beer, needless to say, one turned into two and so on. Later in the evening, one of my brothers friends dropped in and handed him a bundle of cash. I knew the guy, it was Chris’s dealer. Without hesitation I asked i Chris had made his payment.
“What payment?”
What payment? You kidding me? I learnt over the next few minutes that Chris never owed any money, he always paid up front for his drugs. That bundle of cash was mine! I was so outraged that I never even questioned as to why my brother was receiving the cash. How was Chris getting this money? He had nothing to sell any more and no job. Oh, he was playing on peoples emotions! I suddenly sobered up and said good bye to my brother and his friend, speeding off in pure anger.
I arrived at Chris’s resident, ignoring all the rubbish in the hall way. The carpets were stained, cigarette ends were all over the place, the whole premises was filthy and I was pretty sure that I could smell human shit in the living room. That is where Chris was, alone, laying on his sofa and groaning. He didn’t even know I was there. His eyes were glazed and he was on a total different planet. On the floor next to him was a used syringe which I picked up. I looked at the state of the place and decided maybe I should clean up a little and deal with Chris once he slept off his drug induced psychosis. I looked under the kitchen sink for some black trash bags but there was nothing there, just ‘Supa-Kill’ which was a liquid formula to kill rodents. It was industrial strength. Now, you must be thinking why on earth would any one have industrial vermin killer in their kitchen? When a property or small area is this filthy, it attracts vermin such as rats. They feast on left over food and human shit! It’s easier to leave poison out for the vermin than it is to have a little bit of respect for yourself and clean! I guess the reason why Chris hadn’t been eaten alive by the rats was because he used this poison to kill them.
I looked at the syringe and I looked at the poison. I didn’t think about anything, i automatically plunged the syringe into the side of the container and filled it with the poison. I marched into where Chris was laying and without any hesitation I plunged the needle into his thigh, a vein was still protruding and was an easy target. At least I didn’t have to mess around trying to find a half decent entry point. Chris didn’t even flinch, his eyes were closed and he was still breathing. I went back to the kitchen to collect the poison and administered seven more injections of the poison. Each time, Chris didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes, didn’t flinch, he just snored. I watched him for a while and his breathing became a little shallow, he seemed so peaceful. There was no noise from outside, Chris had stopped snoring, it was beautiful. I waited for him to start jerking around, foaming at his mouth, bleeding from his eyes but there was nothing. He simply just stopped breathing, he didn’t take a deep last breath nor try clinging onto life. What a let down, I had been robbed by Chris earlier on in the evening and had been robbed by him yet again. I wanted him to suffer and he didn’t.
I whipped the syringe down and placed it in his hand and left the poison next to him. I left the property and went home to bed. I didn’t hear anything of his passing until a few days later when I received a call from his somber father. He had no emotion in his voice when he told me Chris had over dosed and passed away, the coroner believed that Chris was so high that he’d injected the poison into his system himself, in a short amount of time. There was no sign of foul play. Months later at his inquest, it was said that his death was caused by an accidental overdose of Heroin and other substances.
My next entry into this journal will tell you of how I murdered my third victim, the feelings that went through my and why I done it.
0 notes
Text
Connor X Reader - Do You Dream? Chapter 4
Chapter 4 – Confession
A/N – So, things are going to get gritty from here on out, I suggest you stop reading now if triggered by themes of violence and sexual nature.
Warnings – Mild themes of sexual violence. Regular violence at the end.
Rating – M
Connor remained in place, still holding you from the previous night. While he hadn’t slept or gone into recharge, he had dreamed; his mind had weaved a perfect assortment of future desires of a life with you, sharing the domesticities of an everyday relationship. He was all too aware you would soon wake up and he’d have no reason to go on holding you. Briefly, he let himself slip back into the realm of daydreams, imagining a world wherein you’d wake up and he’d kiss your neck and you would reciprocate with a smile. The idea made his thirium pump flutter; it wasn’t too long ago that he couldn’t imagine anything at all, lacking the free-will to do so.
Slowly and reluctantly, Connor let you go, deciding he didn’t want to be told to do so when you woke up. Silently, he picked up his clothes, only putting his shirt back on, folding the waistcoat and jacket and leaving them on the bed. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows so he at least looked semi-casual. You stirred in your sleep, snuggling back into your pillows, not quite ready to wake up. Connor smiled, barely resisting the urge to kiss your forehead; he refused to have his first kiss with you while you were asleep, should it happen at all.
Stealthily Connor crept downstairs, straightening up the house on his way to the kitchen. Although he hadn’t been built as a personal carer or service android, he had downloaded a memory update full of cooking lessons and recipes. After the revolution, Cyberlife Industries had stopped building androids and instead released updates for them so they could choose exactly who and what they wished to be; Connor had bought several carer updates so he could better car for Hank.
As Connor began preparing eggs benedict for you, he heard the creak of floorboards upstairs, indicating you were up and beginning your morning routine. By the time you were dressed and downstairs, your meal was waiting for you on the small, two-person dining table where Connor sat opposite.
“Morning Robocop,” You smiled, sitting yourself down for breakfast.
“You talk in your sleep,” He said playfully.
“Do not.”
“And you snore.”
“Do not,” You repeated more firmly.
“I could play a recording if you don’t believe me.”
“Liar, you didn’t record me sleeping,” You reached over the table, punching his arm lightly.
“Think of what the precinct will say when they see it. You’ll lose all credibility; nothing will ever be the same.”
“Whatever nerd. What about you? After watching me sleep like a psycho, did you get any?” You asked, scooping up a fork full of egg.
Connor thought of his daydreams, “In a manner of speaking.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Do you dream?”
Connor scrubbed a hand through his hair, “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“What did you dream of? Wait, let me guess, you dreamed of Gavin waiting for you in a saucy outfit, ready to take your bromance to the next level.”
It was Connor’s turn to swat you, “Never put that image in my head again.”
“’Kay so what’s the plan today? We got the luxury of two days off in a row, so am I on my own today or are you with me to cause some havoc? And by havoc, I mean shopping and other boring adult crap.”
“No time to paint the town red today, I have to see Hank about something,” Connor said evasively, neglecting to mention that the ‘something’ was you.
“To ask him if he’s seen saucy Gavin?”
“Please stop saying saucy.”
“Only for you Robocop,” You winked, tucking into your breakfast.
After you dropped Connor off, he went into Hank’s small house which had become just as much his own since their first case together. Although Connor wanted to wake Hank the moment you left to tell him about his unusual night with you, he waited till noon when Hank usually woke up; the last time he’d woken Hank up early had not been a good day for Connor.
Entertaining himself with Sumo, Connor waited as patiently as he could, finding mindless patience so much harder than it used to be before he deviated. Finally, Hank emerged, a faint odour of liquor that Connor didn’t approve of lingering on his breath; while he had reduced how much he drank greatly, Hank still had no desire to beat his alcoholism fully yet.
Connor straightened up, leaving Sumo belly up, clearly waiting for more petting. “Hank, good, you’re awake. How was your night?”
Hank ignored him, heading straight to the bathroom instead. When he re-emerged, he looked tiredly at Connor who repeated his question. “Cut the crap Connor. I know you’re waiting to ask me about (Y/N). Just spit it out already. What happened last night?”
While Hank prepared a mug of coffee, Connor wondered exactly how to explain the events of the previous night. Smiling somewhat goofily, he answered, “I slept with her.”
Hank’s mug smashed against the floor as he grabbed Connor by his shirt collar, throwing him against the wall. Anger seethed out of him, barely forming into words, “YOU DID WHAT?”
Connor’s LED span yellow upon realising his mistake. He grabbed Hank’s arms gently, careful not to anger him further, “Hank, please-”
“SHUT UP! I TOLD YOU TO WATCH A FUCKIN’ MOVIE. (Y/N) ISN’T TRASH YOU CAN USE LIKE THAT. IF I HAD MY GUN NOW, I’D-”
“HANK!” Connor waited till he knew Hank was really listening before continuing. “That’s not what I meant.”
“WHAT DID YOU MEAN THEN?”
“I meant that (Y/N) and I shared a bed. I asked what sleeping was like and she-”
Hank rolled his eyes, his grip loosening, “She encouraged you, as fuckin’ usual.”
Connor nodded, his LED slowly returning to its default blue, though the occasional flicker of yellow could still be seen; it never once turned red wherever Hank was concerned, for he never truly felt threatened by his father-figure. Finally, Hank conceded, letting Connor go.
“Should’ve guessed. (Y/N)’s into all that ‘experiencing life’ shit. By that tone, it still wasn’t a date. What the hell is wrong with you Connor? Couldn’t get up the nerve?”
Connor straightened his shirt indignantly. “It’s like I said, she didn’t know it was a date.”
“Jesus,” Hank cursed, leaning back against the counter. “Back in my day people knew when they were on a date. That’s it, I’m taking Sumo out, you… I don’t know, figure out how to talk to women. Download one of those stupid pack things.”
Connor frowned annoyedly, “They don’t make android upgrades with dating advice.”
Hank grabbed a coat and slipped on his coat, grabbing a lead from the coat rack. “Send in a complaint then, see if I care. Whatever you do, just treat (Y/N) right. I won’t see her hurt because of this.” He whistled for Sumo, who slowly lumbered towards him.
Connor was once again left alone, more worried than before over how too woo you, without hurting you emotionally. He thought momentarily about the roses he’d ordered that would be on your desk the next day; that made him smile, there would be no mistaking those. All he had to do until then was wait and maybe prepare a speech, should you want more than what flowers would say.
Connor grinned to himself upon spotting his roses on your desk, simply waiting to be discovered. How would you feel when you read the note that simply said, ‘From Robocop’? He hoped you would be pleased and reciprocate his romantic feelings, but he was fully prepared for things to go the other way; he had two speeches prepared, one for acceptance and the other for rejection. He considered removing the card several times but it was too late now, there were a few officers milling around and any one of them could see him and tell you.
Keeping himself busy, Connor headed to the kitchen to bring you a cup of green tea, stopping by the entrance when he saw you enter the precinct. His artificial breath caught in his throat, a sensation he still found odd considering he didn’t need to breathe. Resisting the urge to fidget, Connor’s eyes tracked you on the way to your desk, his lips turning up slightly at the corners upon seeing the shock on your face. You glanced around for anyone who might have left the bouquet, half-expecting it to be some kind of joke; Connor did his best to avoid your gaze, leaning casually against the wall.
You picked up the card at the centre of the bouquet, any trace of happiness vanishing from your face as you held it with shaking hands. Connor felt his thirium pump drop at your expression; he couldn’t pin what you were feeling, but it certainly wasn’t anything good. He found himself reaching for his coin, stroking it absentmindedly in his pocket as he prepared to make his rejection speech that would allow the two of you to still be friends. Taking a few steps forward, his legs felt like lead and he found he had to stop, just in time to watch you march towards Gavin who had just walked in.
Gavin smiled cheekily, “If it isn’t my pretty little-”
“Shut it,” You warned in hushed tones, glaring at him fiercely; Connor would have given anything to hear what the two of you were saying at that moment.
“What’s got into you?” Gavin sneered.
You shoved the card into his chest, “You think this is some kind of joke? If it is, it’s not funny.”
Gavin skim-read the card, his lips pressing firmly together as he re-read it twice more. He shook his head, “Come on,” He grabbed your arm, leading you into the Captain’s office.
Connor watched everything unfold in the glass cage that housed the Captain. He didn’t know what was going on, but this was so much more than his card on the bouquet. The Captain was apparently shouting, though not loud enough to be heard in the bullpen. He kept pointing at you, then yelling some more before he eventually slumped in his seat, dismissing you and Gavin while he got to work on his computer. Now that you and Gavin were facing his direction, Connor could read Gavin’s lips as he told you to wait for him while he made some calls. That gave Connor all the time he needed to approach you and find out what was going on.
“(Y/N), is something wrong? What was that with the Captain?”
You didn’t answer, instead holding out the bouquet card for Connor to read, which he did in a second.
Detective (L/N),
I know who you are and where you live.
Should you continue to hunt me, you will find me, hunting you.
Sincerely, The Fornication Flayer.
If it wasn’t evidence, Connor would have torn the card up right there. How dare that murderer use Connor’s bouquet to threaten you! Controlling himself, Connor simply said, “I’ll check the security footage and have this analysed immediately.”
You shook your head, trying to organise your thoughts, “Uh… Gavin- Gavin’s already doing that. I need to um- The Captain’s told me to go home today to check surveillance near my place. I should go.”
You took a few dazed steps away but Connor grabbed your hand, “I’m coming with you.”
You didn’t argue, instead taking support in Connor’s firm grip and fighting away any fear you held that a serial killer was now targeting you; the realisation was terrifying.
You fell to your knees, covering your mouth to fight the whimpers escaping it. Until now, you never actually believed The Flayer knew where you lived, only where you worked. Yet, as you looked around at the remains of your apartment, there was no denying that by acting as bait, you’d certainly caught his attention.
Currently, you were in the remains of your kitchen where you and Connor had been laughing a mere day before. Had the Flayer been waiting outside then for you to leave so he could get a good look at you? Between the drive to and back from the DPD, he’d had a window of exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes to destroy everything you owned, or so Connor told you. You picked up the shards of a broken vase that had been a gift from your parents when you’d first moved in, cutting your thumb on the sharp edge and dropping it.
“Careful,” Connor said, pulling you up and examining the cut. The glass crunched as he walked over it to a ransacked drawer, bringing back some anti-sceptic spray and a plaster. He took care of the tiny cut as efficiently as he’d taken care of everything else since he’d stepped into the apartment. While you had looked at the broken remnants of your life, thinking only of the damage, it had been Connor who’d updated the precinct, searched your apartment, pieced together what little he could of the puzzle, and recovered a few clothes for you to take to Hank’s where he insisted you would stay.
“What um-” You tried to get over your shock to form the necessary words, “Did you find any DNA traces.”
Connor swallowed anxiously; he couldn’t bare to tell you about the large quantity of semen that ruined your bed which was why he hadn’t let you into your room. He shook his head, going for a half-truth, stroking your hand gently the entire time, “Not even a hair or fingerprint.”
“Any more notes or anything that will lead us to him?”
“Nothing yet, but I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I promise I’ll find this guy for you (Y/N).”
You took a shaky breath, gritting your teeth, “Not before I do. He’s gonna pay for this shit.”
Connor squeezed your hand, “Come on, Hank’s on his way up. He can deal with the Captain. Let’s go home.”
Reluctantly, you turned away from the mess that used to be your home, letting Connor lead you away; one way or another, you would make it your home again once you knew it was safe to do so.
After three weeks of working 24-7 on the Flayer case with Gavin, being guarded at work and at Hank’s by whoever was with you at the time, sleeping on a lumpy sofa, and being woke up most nights by startling nightmares that you kept quiet, you decided the only thing to do was ‘grin and bear it.’ It would be so easy to be scared and miserable, but that was exactly what the Fornication Flayer wanted from you. Instead, you defied him by finding joy in your life, taking time to smile with Conor and Hank, and persisting to hunt the Flayer with every free moment at work.
Your optimistic attitude was the cause of Hank’s irritation on your twenty-first day as his house guest. He rolled his eyes from the sofa, grumbling, “Why’ve you gotta play that dumb game with Con? You know he can’t taste.”
You smiled playfully at your new game, in which Connor had to close his eyes and turn off his scanners temporarily to taste a food you were holding and guess what it was; he was wrong every time, though he indulged you with more rounds, enjoying the fact you could still find happiness in your dire situation. “Maybe he can evolve,” You countered.
“You know that’s impossible,” Connor chuckled.
You shushed him, determined to win the pointless argument or at least annoy Hank in the process. Evidently your plan worked because Hank turned off the TV. “Enough of this shit,” He said, padding into his room, leaving you and Connor alone. You glanced at the oven clock, finding it was almost midnight, but not saying anything so you didn’t have to go to sleep.
Despite your silence, Connor seemed to come to the same realisation for you. “Shouldn’t you be getting to sleep now too?”
“I’m not tired yet,” You said nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t press the matter further or mention that you hadn’t even got changed for bed yet. “Come on, just a few more rounds of this and I’ll sleep.”
“No way, you’ll jam my mechanics if you keep making me play this.”
“Party pooper.”
Connor smiled, “Fine, see if you can guess what things are.”
You shrugged, simply happy to delay sleep by a few more minutes. You shut your eyes, holding out your hand for the spoonful of whatever Connor had prepared for you. Feeling the cold metal in your hand, you brought the spoon to your lips, eating its contents. “Way too easy, Robo-cop. Strawberry.”
“Alright, then try this,” he gave you another spoon.
Your face contorted in disgust, “Ew, God, was that- Was that yogurt and pepper?”
Connor laughed heartily and you opened your eyes to examine the products remains, “Gross.”
“Hey, shut your eyes, I’m not done until you get one wrong.”
You took a sip of water before complying, waiting while Connor topped a spoon with wasabi and paprika. He stared at your face, finding his all-too familiar longing returning to him. Glancing at the spoon, he placed it silently on the table, acting on complete impulse instead. Standing in front of you, he bent down, barely thinking as he pressed his lips gently against yours. Shocked and confused, you opened your eyes, pushing Connor away the second you did.
“Connor, what the hell are you doing?” You stood up and hissed, careful not to alert Hank to what was going on past his bedroom door.
Connor’s LED flashed, continuously switching between yellow and red. He stared down at the floor, unable to meet your eyes, “(Y/N), I- I have feelings for you.”
You shook your head, disbelievingly. Everything in your life had been beyond your control for the past few weeks and the idea of one more unknown scared you more than anything. “I don’t believe this. You can’t just go around kissing people, okay? You can’t!”
You moved to the door, grabbing your boots and coat. Connor reached out for you but you pulled away, the action hurting him more than if you’d physically slapped him. “(Y/N)…”
You shook your head irritably, “No. Just stop. I don’t- I can’t handle this right now. I have to go.”
“Go where? It’s still dangerous for you to-”
“Dangerous? Really, that’s what you’re going to lecture me on? Fine.” You whistled for Sumo, grabbing his lead and attaching it to his collar. “There, not dangerous anymore. Dog’s a freakin’ tank.”
You didn’t give Connor any time to argue as you stormed out of the house, running down the street. Unsure of what to do, Connor called for Hank, he had to repeat himself a few times, having barely made a sound at first. Hank stumbled grumpily out of his room, “For fuck’s sake Connor, what is it-”
He fell silent, seeing the tears streaming down Connor’s face. He grabbed Connor’s shoulders, “What is it son, what happened?”
“She doesn’t feel the same,” Connor whispered.
Hank sighed, wishing Connor was human so he could solve the problem with alcohol, He hugged his android partner tightly, “’s okay Connor, she’ll just need some time to come around… Where is she?”
Connor forgot his broken feelings as the reality of the situation hit. You were alone in the world, being hunted by a serial killer and he’d let you go; the night had just gotten a whole lot worse.
You trudged the cold streets of Detroit’s suburbia, not paying attention as the frigid air buffeted you from all directions. You knew it wasn’t fair how you reacted to Connor’s declaration of love for you, but then again, it wasn’t fair of him to say such a thing when your whole world was already upside down.
From your side, Sumo whined and you paused, checking your watch. Somehow, it was already half-past twelve and you’d been wandering the streets for almost twenty-five minutes. “You’re right boy, time to go back and face everything… not that I know where to start.”
Sumo whined again and you bent down to let him off his lead, giving him some room to roam; he never usually strayed far from you anyway. The action seemed to make the Saint Bernard a lot happier as he meandered ahead, setting the pace back home.
After walking only the length of the first street, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head as you were hit from behind. You fell forward, reaching out and scraping the palms of your hands. Dizzily, you looked up, barely seeing the man by your side before he hit you again, knocking you out. The man placed the rusted pipe he’d hit you with back into his belt, leaving no evidence for the police to find later on. Lifting you over his shoulder, he carried you down an alley to another street where his van was waiting. He took a moment to smell your skin and hair before placing you in the back and driving away.
In the distance, Sumo howled, running home and barking agitatedly at the door. Hank opened it, letting him in. Frantically, he grabbed his phone from the kitchen table, using speed-dial to call Connor who was out searching for you.
“Kid, get back here, Sumo’s back, (Y/N) isn’t.”
Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.
#connor#connor x reader#connor x fem reader#DBH#detroit become human#detroit connor#hank anderson#reader#reader insert#fanfiction#fanfic#Do You Dream?#chapter 4#Confession
26 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
v-fanzine
"Blessed Are My Stars"
xcelloungeri-blog
Xcel Lounge
1 Throop Alley
Providence RI 02903
atinyeve
Atinyeve
lucky-katebishop
bear down for midterms
xcelloungeri-blog
Xcel Lounge
1 Throop Alley
Providence RI 02903