#like Hank have enough power to affect him physically | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saltymongoose · 8 months

Note

Ok I got a request, its ok if you don't want to do it, I wont push you or force you:

so my request is what if Player had a giant scar on their back or on their side from an accident before meeting the main 4, like they got it from building something or helping a family member. So how would the main 4 react seeing a giant scar on player body and player still feels the pain a little bit. . .

That's all and... here...

Thank you for the frog gif, it's absolutely lovely lol. Here are your hcs!

Their Reaction to the Player having a Large Scar ft. The Main 3 + 2BDamned

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Mentions of Injury)

- [HANK J. WIMBLETON] -

It doesn't have to be said that Hank's been through a lot of fights, and his fair share of scars are a byproduct of that. So, he really isn't phased by you having a scar once he catches a glimpse of it. If anything, he's more curious about how you got such a large one in the first place. (Were you fighting some huge enemy back in your world? And how powerful was the thing if it could manage to injure you, of all people?)

That was before you made any mention of how your old injury still causes you pain, though. Hank's not the type to be worried about other people in general, but you're the one exception to that. He's not going to fret over you like a mother hen, but his concern will make itself known with how he refuses to let you strain yourself to do much of anything.

He's not very medically inclined (understatement, it's not like he even cares enough to patch himself up most of the time), so he's at a loss of what to do save for making it so you don't have to lift a finger for anything. In a way, this honestly kind of angers him, because he genuinely wants to be able to help you in any possible way, but he just…doesn't know how.

However, Hank's not one to beat around the bush if he wants something, so he'll likely just ask you directly if he can do anything to ease your residual pain. It doesn't matter if it's something that requires him to trek all the way across Nevada to get for you, or just some extra physical affection you want, he's pretty much at your beck and call if you think it will help you.

If you'd like, he's also willing to show off his own scars; he figures it's only fair since he saw yours. Neither of you mentions how his breath turns shallow when you trace a finger over the ones from more serious wounds.

(And, for the record, he would be very pissed off if you told him that you got it from helping a family member. It's unreasonable to blame them for the accident that caused this, but he will anyway. He's that delusional.)

- [SANFORD] -

Sanford is opposite to Hank in many ways here, namely in how he'll immediately get close to gauge the severity of your healed wound and ask about how badly it aches still. He's wary not to pry too much - as he doesn't want you to feel like you have to delve into anything traumatic - but he still wants to know if they (he) can do anything to help you.

You'll notice a sort of shift in his behavior after finding this out, and this is mainly seen in how he tries to make sure you don't have to do any difficult work or stress the part of your body where the scar is. He knows from personal experience how aches and pains can get triggered by this sort of thing, so he thinks he should assist you whenever he can.

He'll ease up if you ask him too of course, but you can get where he's coming from. If you were anyone else, he'd probably just leave you to deal with it on your own, but you're his Player; he can't justify allowing you to potentially cause yourself pain if he knows he can prevent it. That'd make him a bad vessel (and future partner, for that matter).

Although, when you tell him about how you got your scar, he immediately calms down a bit (grateful that it wasn't from an enemy or an intentional wound), it doesn't erase all of his concern. On one hand, he's happy that you didn't have to deal with the stress and fear that comes with someone trying to attack you, but the wound still happened regardless, so the thought still pains him. He doesn't want to imagine anything hurting you.

Sanford also gets it if you got your wound from helping a family member with something; he finds it relatable since he too has injured himself doing similar stuff for his folks as well. He'll give you this look of deep understanding when you refer to the cause, one that would almost be comical if the topic weren't so distressing.

- [DEIMOS] -

Deimos' reaction to seeing your scar is to freeze and go completely silent for a moment - he never expected to see something like that marring your flesh. However, while he internally breaks down into worry, he won't outwardly have much of a reaction in that moment. He doesn't want to bring up anything or make you feel self-conscious, so he'll probably just act like he never saw anything to begin with. It takes you mentioning it directly to pull his full thoughts from him.

He's a bit tentative about this whole thing oddly enough; perhaps it's just the discomfort at the idea of you being hurt, but he'll try to gloss over the seriousness of it to whatever degree he can. If this includes showing off a large scar of his and joking about how you match, then that's just how it is.

Like Sanford, he definitely loses some of his stress over this when you mention how this isn't from someone hurting you purposefully, or you getting into a tussle over something. Although he laxes up a lot more, and will relegate any worry to simply asking if you'd like his help when he sees you doing something. Sometimes he'll insist though, especially if it involves lifting anything heavy.

(A chance to flex his strength and do some service for his Player? It'd be stupid for him not to take it.)

Provided you aren't uncomfortable with it, Deimos will make jokes about your scar and how "badass" it makes you look.

If he was the first to find out about it, he'll make up long, elaborate explanations that you 'told him' about how you got it. It includes everything from a battle between gods (you being one of them) to you heroically saving some damsel in distress from a terrible beast. They aren't believable at all, but they aren't supposed to be. He just wants to make you laugh.

- [2BDAMNED] -

Despite not being an actual medic by any means, 2BDamned's reaction to seeing your scar is to ask what it's from and how it healed. He's also quite perceptive, so it only takes him seeing a sliver of your skin to call it out. Privately, of course, he doesn't want to push you on intimate matters in front of the others (especially if he didn't think they knew about it).

Really, Doc wants to know everything possible about it that you'd be willing to tell him about your old wound; it's important information, he reasoned since he wants to find out more about humans (you) in general, and someone has to be competent enough to care for your medical needs here.

Never mind how worried it made him to see it; it's hard to tell because of his mask, but he had to do a double-take when he caught a glimpse of it, and his horror only grew once you confirmed his concerns. Doc also knows that humans are generally more fragile compared to grunts at this point too, which just amplifies this feeling.

He's the first to ask if you need any scar cream or pain meds of any type to alleviate any discomfort you have - whether it be from the soreness of your old wound or the way it looks - and he'll get said medications as soon as possible. He'll also offer to help you apply whatever it is if it's a topical medication of some kind. If you'd like him to, of course.

While a part of him is relieved that the wound your scar was born from wasn't given to you purposefully, this becomes a sidenote to him more than anything. He wants to know what he can do for you here and now, with your residual pain and discomfort being his top priority.

He also won't even mention it around the others, as he thinks it's a private topic. Whether you show it off or not is immaterial; he views yours as similar to his own facial scars and thinks it would be better to just treat it as a completely normal thing instead of making a huge deal out of it. (Once he knows it's history and how to help you with it's lasting effects, of course. What else would you expect from one of your most competent vessels?)

Plus, your history and any past wounds are only yours to discuss anyway. He merely wants to be there for you to rely on, so he hopes you know that you can come to him for anything - scar related or not. It's the least he can do in return for all that you've brought to his life.

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louscartridge · 1 year

Text

dating rachel roth hdcns

rachel roth x gn reader

a/n- ngl i kinda gave up on proof reading like half way through so my bad lol. also i say ‘or’ ‘you guys’ ‘whall’ (thats not a fucking word sky stop saying it stupid) ‘and’ and a shit ton of other words in this alot and im aware its annoying so once again. my bad.

cw- established relasionship, arguments, fluff, cuddling, using of ‘i love you’, rachel having a hard time expresing her emotions, reader has powers (breifly mentiond), jellousy, crying, jason and hank being asses, gar being your +1, fighting (titans), back scratches, idk is some 11 year old fr gonna come for me if i dont say evreything? fuck off.

-on your first official date you guys watched old cartoons

-when it started getting late you switched to horror movies

- when you switched to horror, you watched them correctly. in the dark. no lights, other then what was coming from the tv.

-both yours and rachels favorite food, snacks and drinks were there

-rachel is really touch starved, so as soon as you guys started dating, she started being really touchy

-shes a very cuddly and physically affectionate person

-her favorite cuddling positions are; spooning, facing each other holding hands, and her laying on your lap whall you play with her hair

-she doesnt really know how to talk about how she feels about you, without her thinking it sounds ‘cheesy’ or something, so shell just stick to you and hope you get what shes saying without saying it (you do)

-despite that, she does say 'i love you' all the time

-speaking of which, she said 'i love you' first

-you guys were having an argument

-you were mad at jason cause he kept 'flirting' with rachel

-she got mad because she felt like you didnt trust her

-"even if he was flirting with me, i wasent flirting with him! and you should trust me enough that i wouldnt and dont want him."

-she got worried that you were gonna leave

-"wait! no y/n dont go please i love you-"

-you were surprised she stated verbal affection

-you smiled and slowly walked towards her

-she was still crying

-you whispered "i love you too rachel" whall stroking her cheek bones with your thumbs and kissed her

-you spent the rest of the day cuddling eachother with a book, whispering 'i love you's and other reissuances

-jason and hank would always nag you, gar, and rachel all the time

-"wait whos dating who again?" - jason

-"i think theyre just all dating each other" - hank

-you guys didnt think it was the worrrst thing ever-

-both of you love to wear each others clothes

-when dick does the laundry, he sometimes doesnt know whos clothes are who

-"hey rach, is this yours or y/n's?"

-"mhmm doesnt matter, itll end up being worn by both of us either way."

-you would match your hair color with each other sometimes

-sometimes with gar too

-adjusting rachels jewelry all the time

-when your holding hands sometimes youll realize that the clasp of her bracelet is in the front or something

-"that tickles! what are you doing?"

-"im fixing your bracelet"

-youll do it with her necklaces too

-if shes cooking or just walking around the house or whenever you happen to notice it you walk up to her and turn her necklace so the clasp is in the back and/or the charm or whatever is in the middle.

-after a while she knows what your doing, so when you walk up to her, she just stops walking or whatever and looks at you with a slight smile on her face as you shift it

-on the subject of jewelry, she definitely gets you guys matching jewelry for your anniversary

-or your birthday

-or if she sees them in the store or something and likes them shell suprise you with them.

-mall.dates.

-just walking around the mall whether its window shopping or you actually get stuff -your guys' second date was actually at the mall

-dick gave rachel money and told you guys to have a break and hang out -dick and the rest of the titans took care of any fights or anything that went down that day

-a few of your mall dates tho you guys had to be dragged away for a fight -gar 'third wheeling' alot

-although he says 'you guys are good with making me feel....less- more un-third wheely'

-back scratches!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-whenever she has a rough day controlling her powers

-or you guys had a hard day with fighting as titans

-at the end of the day you would give each other back scratches

-music would be playing the entire time

-the two of you would alternate, taking turns sitting on the edge of the bed and getting back scratches

-you and rachel would end up falling asleep on each other

-you were at the edge of the bed and she was slumped against you, arms semi draped over your shoulders

-dick and kory are your guys' biggest shippers

-shipped you guys before you even got together

-forehead kisses. all.the.time.

-from both of you

-you love giving them

-she loves giving them

-whenever you guys are sitting on a couch or next to each other or something like that she likes to run her fingers up and down your spine

-in the beginning of your relationship you argued kinda often because she was scared she was gonna hurt you so she tried to push you away

-once she learned that you have powers too, she felt a little better

ok im so sorry this is so much ill shut up now.

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staticl0ve · 1 year

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Home - DBH Connor/AFAB!reader

Pairings: Connor/AFAB Reader (no pronouns used) Rating: Mature/Explicit/NSFW 18+ Link (AO3): Home (oneshot) Words: 4.9k Warnings: Established relationships (married), no gendered pronouns, oral sex (both receiving), mutual masturbation, PnV sex, very mild cock warming Summary: It’s Valentines! The day of being smothered in affection, cards, flowers. A day to be wined and dined. However, you’re on the other side of the globe. That doesn’t stop him from finding ways to enjoy your company. Although, you’ve got a little surprise for him. Notes: After writing a sad, sad fic, I present to you, a happy fluff one haha. Inspired by Dream (Shawn amended).

Since the winter storms had eased, parks have begun to draw more and more visitors as the days warmed up. Snow melted into watery pools. Birds lined the power lines and barren trees were beginning to show signs of fresh leaves.

With his eyes shut, Connor was basking in the glow of the sun. From sound alone, he could piece together all that was occurring around him. Someone was selling hotdogs, their jovial advertising occasionally reminding him of the low, low price of their goods. From what he gathered, the preserved meat wrapped in carbohydrates attracted quite a crowd.

Children squealed and giggled as they rushed past his seat on a park bench, followed by the distressed scolding of exhausted parents. Joggers added to the commotion, their padding feet startling his canine companion. A blue leash was wrapped around his hand, the firm material tugging slightly at his synthetic skin. Sitting up, he reached below his knee to scratch the ears of an excited Saint Bernard.

“Sumo,” he chuckled. “It’s okay boy.”

The dog whined in response and let out a playful bark.

Connor relaxed back onto the bench, turning his attention away from Sumo. Across the park’s lake was a familiar duo on their second lap around the water. Hank’s grayed hair billowed around his face he walked. A hilariously large smile pinned his cheeks in a permanent state of glee, making him appear like a smitten fool. Beside him, a woman named Rose matched his pace, wrapping a patterned shawl tightly around her frame. It was clear she was laughing at something Hank had said, his cheeks tinged bright red and growing redder when her hand met his arm.

They met sometime after the android revolution and found they shared a passion for android rights. One interest of hers was owning a small farm. While Hank did not have a green thumb, he enjoyed the tranquility of the sun rising over leafy crops. He also had the great fortune of trying the produce in her cooking. After having taken a long break from dating, the older gentleman was likely excited because today was their first Valentines.

Connor’s jaw clicked, LED flashing gold for a second. Ah. That was why he was asked to dogsit for the afternoon.

A sigh emptied from his chest. Irritatingly, as the android began scanning the park, he realized there were an awful lot of couples enjoying the lovely weather on a particularly romantic weekend. He nervously toyed with a ring on his left hand as he wondered how you were fairing on your work trip. One month was probably a record time for the longest either of you had gone without the other.

Seeking a distraction, Connor started scrolling through his notifications. Grids in blue lines flickered across his view of the park. His distress was apparent enough to warrant a soothing hand lick from Sumo, the dog moving to rest his fuzzy face on Connor’s lap.

“Thanks, boy.”

He let out another sigh. His inbox remained unchanged since the last message he received.

Love you.

Two simple words taunted him, reminding him of the physical distance between you. It didn’t help matters that your call last night ended abruptly.

“So,” you began with apprehension dripping in your voice. “There’s a chance I might be away a little longer than expected. The team really thinks one more meeting will get this deal closed. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, I swear if they try this again…I’m…”

You were losing steam, clearly too tired to think of anything clever, finishing your sentence by hanging your head back. Connor took longer than normal to respond, the android cycling through a series of phrases that would downplay his disappointment. Deciding that he couldn’t trust himself, he settled on vague.

“I see.”

He may have forgotten he was on a video call, the downward shift in his features spelling out his mood.

“Connor,” you breathed out, sinking back into your hotel bed. Sunlight filtered through thin curtains. A breeze picked up from an open window, casting intricate shadows over your cheeks, lips and nose. Your eyelids were half open, either from the brightness or from an exhaustion he couldn’t quite place. He worried briefly if you slept well, if your accommodations were enough. As you nestled between blankets, he could make out the flimsy strap of your shirt slipping past your shoulder. A twang struck his chest. Your lips parting brought his attention back to your face. “This sucks for me, too.”

“I know,” he replied, sounding deflated. “I miss you.”

You rolled from your back to your side, finding a new angle for your phone. The tone of your voice changed, dipping into more sultry notes. “What do you miss?”

Oh, he wasn’t made yesterday. He grinned as his fingers plucked away shirt buttons.

“Your taste,” he answered, wetting his lips. His boldness took you by surprise, a small moan crackling through the call.

Across the globe from where you were situated, it was night in Detroit where he was sitting at the end of your shared bed. The room was left untouched, a time capsule of when you were last there: your brush carelessly tossed onto the bed along with clothes and accessories that didn’t make the cut. Without you around, it was easy for him to slip back into his old habits and avoid sleep. Stasis wasn’t a daily requirement for machines and it certainly did not take all night to reset caches and organize his expanding matrixes.

“How much time do you have?” he asked. His shirt had joined your pile of abandoned clothes and he was making quick work on his pants.

Your gaze was drawn to some distant corner, likely checking on a virtual calendar. “An hour or two…I think.”

His regulator pump stuttered when you glanced back at him, the heat of your full attention causing him mild discomfort in his remaining boxer briefs.

You bit your lip playfully. “What did you have in mind?”

“Will you lie back for me?” Obediently, you did as he asked, propping up your phone on a pillow to maximize the angle. He groaned softly once he realized you were bare from the waist down. Your thighs fell open slowly, the light catching onto your wet folds. “rA9, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

He heard your giggle as he worked to rid himself of his last article of clothing. “Will you show me how much you’ve missed me?” he requested.

You made a show of it, dragging your hands slowly from your clothed chest, rolling each nipple until they hardened. A bright glint caught his eye, his gaze following a ring on your hand. He had one that matched it, a white gold band that was cool on his heating skin. It bumped along his length as his hands leisurely stroked up and down. He adjusted his audio output to maximize the obscene squelch of damp skin, smirking when he caught your reaction to it.

“You look so good like this,” he whispered. “Laid out for me to see.”

“C-Con…” Your whimper made his grip tighten.

Funny enough, this was the first time he’d ever done this, a thrill running through his systems. He was beginning to see the appeal as he watched you push a finger past your folds.

“I miss…” you muffled a moan as your other hand began rubbing circles over your clit. It took significant effort to speak, the sentence pinching off with a gasp. “I miss f-feeling you in my throat.”

Connor made a choked noise as he painted a pretty picture of his tongue curled deep in you. How you’d squirm if he accompanied the feeling with his length slipping down your throat. He imagined a game of who could make the other fall apart sooner. It would be a little unfair, the android was more than capable of delivering filth with his tongue preoccupied by highjacking speakers or simply using his audio unit to speak.

“You look stunning. Would you like to see what I see?”

He made good on his promise one day by commandeering the television to broadcast a memory he had of you on your knees, made you watch as he licked into you. This was a stark contrast to the man who nearly stumbled over—as he was standing still, mind you—from asking you out.

“Do you like dogs?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cute.”

“Would you like to walk one? I mean, walk me—walk with me and a dog?”

Embarrassment was putting it lightly, he was mortified for not relying more heavily on the suggestions offered by his social modules. Your enthusiastic smile doused his panic.

“I’d love to.”

It took many dates, but he worked through his nerves and gave you a peek of the deviant hunter that still lurked beneath his sweet, tender exterior. All it took was stumbling through the darkness of your apartment, his hands following your waist and one messy collision of lips to unlock the man you knew today.

“Connor…”

“Y-yes, love?”

“Wish you were h-here,” you said between moans.

He was about to respond when an alert from Detroit Police Department took up half his sight. “Sorry. I—” he trailed off, focused on writing up a reply. The sight of you knuckle deep in yourself had set him completely off track tonight. “I forgot I was on call.”

“Wait, I thought you weren’t doing night shifts anymore? Something about fair labor and giving androids reasonable shifts?”

“Correct, however, overtime is still optional and I have been waiting for some forensics results.”

Talking about homicide was the nail in the coffin of your phone sex session. Your throat cleared and you sat back up in your bed with a worried look. “Is it the case you’ve been stuck on?”

“It is…” Connor sounded distracted, his eyes panning over text you couldn’t see.

“Should we…”

He apologized again. “Rain check?”

“Mhmm. Don’t work all night.” You kept your tone light, but he could detect the disappointment from your gaze drifting lower.

“I’ll try not to. Have a good day, my love.”

“Night, Connor.”

Come morning, he sent you a message, optimistic that he’d be hearing from you again. Hours passed and his notifications remained unchanged. Before he knew it, it was time to take Sumo out for a walk. An afternoon at the park had boosted his mood and while Rose was kind enough to extend an invitation to spend his evening with them, Connor knew better than to intrude on their date night.

“Are you sure, dear?” she insisted. The older couple shared a quick glance. “We’d be happy to have you.”

Her head tilted at him, shoulders slouching with her hands clasped together. The extra attention made Connor’s cheeks flush. Somehow, despite lacking a childhood, Rose managed to transcend synthetic experiences, making him feel as small as a child standing between two doting parents. It didn’t help that Hank’s palm rocked his shoulders with a few rough shakes.

“We wouldn’t mind the company, son.”

Connor shook his head, making extra effort to hide the golden hue of his indicator. “Thank you for the offer, but I have plans.”

A lie, but the two did not push.

After a full day of slobbery kisses from Sumo, a shower was the first thing on Connor’s mind. As soon as he stepped out, hair still dripping, he found himself gravitating to his side of the bed. There, he laid staring into space, still restless from last night. You had been difficult to reach and he assumed it was related to your recent uptick in workload.

His head was turned, cheek pressed into a pillow as he stared over at your side. Raising his arm, he moved to stroke his fingers along the cool material. When he brought it closer, he couldn’t resist taking a deep inhale. Your scent flooded his sensors, triggering an array of fond memories, like the one before you left. His software began constructing the scene. It was like he was there again, with his face nuzzled between the curve of your neck and jaw, his ticklish breath eliciting a small laugh from you.

“Morning,” he said softly.

“What time is it?” you replied with a jolt at the end of the question. The first thing on your mind was not missing your flight.

“We have time.” A plastic hand slipped between your thighs, quickly finding its target. He wondered what you dreamed about as his fingers slipped through your folds with ease.

“You’re going to…ah…make me late.”

Back in reality, Connor was beginning to feel foolish for bothering with undergarments. An obvious bulge strained against soft cotton and he wasted little time in slipping the elastic band lower to free himself. His fingers stroked the swollen head of his cock, wetting his hand with his own slick as he relived the memory of plunging his fingers into your wet heat.

He moaned into your pillow while wrapping his hand around his length, pumping his hips into his fist like a beast in a rut. The holographic creation of you arched into his chest, joining his moans with gasps of your own.

Connor continued watching the replay—his favorite part—when he replaced his fingers with his cock. Your face was pressed into the pillow, body twisted to present your hips to him.

“I thought you were worried about the time?” he teased as the flat of his palm followed your curves.

You responded with a glare, lining yourself up to him. Before he had a chance to react, you sunk him down to the hilt.

“A-ah…!” he gasped.

“Then you better hurry,” you answered with a wink.

When his hand wasn’t enough, he pulled additional sensory data from his memory, groaning loudly into the room as he felt the tightness of your muscles. He just about lost it when you moaned his name, pleading for him to go faster. His teeth bit into his lower lip as his legs tensed, toes curling into sheets. What little control he had of his limbs left him as he chased his end with frantic thrusts. He had lost sight of his constructed fantasy, eyes clamping shut as electricity shot up and down his spine.

“F-fuck…fuck…” he whimpered, thankfully remembering to not spill all over the sheets.

As his software anomalies began to recover and static no longer dominated his vision, he slumped back onto his side of the bed with his eyes fixed onto the ceiling. He was still the perfect storm of unsatisfied with his limbs simultaneously buzzing for action and his heart not much fuller. Perhaps a bit of stasis would do him some good.

His lashes fluttered and the moonlit ceiling faded into darkness.

It used to be a running joke that androids dreamed of electric sheep. After the revolution, when Connor attempted stasis, what he saw made his thirium grow cold. An empty virtual garden greeted him, lit up by one spotlight like a theatrical stage in an abandoned warehouse. But there was no Amanda and no snow waiting to freeze his metal limbs. When he willed for it to all disappear, he was rewarded with an empty gray box as his new surroundings. It was then that he realized he could change the garden.

Some days he made it his workspace so he could walk through crime scenes and solve cases while his processes recalibrated in the background. Tonight, his imaginations were fixated on you. For the most part his dreams were innocent, filled with reliving his favorite memories or ones he wanted to experience. Such as him lying in bed with your arm draped over his waist and your lips pressed against his neck.

You might say something like: “Surprise, I’m back.”

Strangely, the pressure and heat on his arm felt more tangible than it should have been. His head shifted, peering down at your virtual form as you repeated yourself.

“I’m back. Wake up, love.”

He missed this, your voice spoken without the support of cell towers or the subtle breath between words that no microphone could capture. Bits and pieces of reality filtered through his dreamworld. Warm fingers trended down his arm and he was receptive to your touch, his skin flickering between flesh and plastic tones. He felt your hand entangle with his until your wedding bands lined up, clicking together as if magnetized.

“Did you have a nice dream? I’ve never had this much trouble waking you,” you chuckled.

“Well,” he responded with the corner of his mouth curling. “This is a major improvement.”

“Is that so?”

The hand holding yours slipped out to grip your wrist and tugged. Immediately, you froze, managing to stop his momentum by placing a palm down onto the mattress.

“Wait, wait. I’m still wearing the clothes I traveled in!” you cried out.

“That is a solvable problem, my love.”

He sat up, brown eyes gleaming and face pulled in a smile that seemed too pure and sweet, too brimming with joy to match the frenzied, desperate movement of his hands working to shed your clothes. A palm dragged across the expanse of your rib cage, synthetic fingers digging lines into skin. You tried to be an active participant by squirming out of the cotton T-shirt. As he pulled it over your head, it stuck momentarily and you had to share a laugh at human clumsiness interfering with machine efficiency. He breathed out a sigh once you were freed.

You gently stroked his cheek. “So…what were you dreaming about?”

“You,” Connor said with his chin resting above your abdomen. He moved to work on your jeans, laying one kiss below your belly button, his nose nuzzling close before laying more scattered kisses lower.

“Was I doing anything in your dream?”

Your fingers met soft strands of brown hair, enjoying how they separated and slipped out of your grasp. You watched him ghost his fingers across the edge of the denim waistband, suddenly more patient than he was earlier. His tongue tapped your skin, distracting you from his fingers unbuttoning and unzipping. The light on his head spun as he processed data beyond your comprehension. Whatever Connor discovered left him moaning into your skin.

Large palms dug between fabric and the backs of your thighs, pushing it down. As you stepped out of the pile of clothes, he pulled you by the waist, dragging your hips down with him. You were higher up on the bed than you expected, parting your thighs around his shoulders. He watched you intensely between his lashes, using his hands to coax your hips closer to his face.

“You were lying here…with me.” His voice was rough and mixed with audio interference.

“That’s it?” you teased. “Just us, cuddling?”

Connor wasn’t listening anymore, or more, he was too focused on something else entirely, his sight set on the apex of your thighs. His grip slipped down to keep you still as he peppered light kisses up your inner thigh. You felt his lips travel higher, his teeth faintly tracing your skin. The faintest pressure was applied to your entrance, his tongue barely licking your folds. Connor was a man on a self imposed mission, pushing his tongue forward to swirl the nerves above. He shouldn’t have chuckled at your desperate whine, the former deviant hunter enjoying the grip he had on his catch of the day.

Could you blame him? Seconds of delay was a lifetime to a machine, now imagine a month of time to make him unhinged.

“Can I at least turn around?” you asked. “I promise it’ll be—” Connor’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue curling in waves. “—good!”

Pulling at his hair did not persuade the android, his brow arching defiantly from between your thighs. Instead, he followed the force of your warning tug, pushing his face closer and dipping his tongue to lick at your clenching muscles. Your pleas fell on deaf ears and you shuddered in his grip. He could almost feel you tipping over the edge before he released you, lying back to flash you a broad, guilt-free grin.

“Alright, now you can move.”

You mumbled vague, teasing threats as you shuffled over to face away from him, your eyes set on his neglected cock. Leaning over to support your weight on your elbows, you brought your hands around his length and his hips excitedly followed. You were slow, using both thumbs to tease his tip, smearing his slick over the angry red flesh.

“S-sweetheart,” he choked out.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you teased. “Not when you were being evil a second ago.”

Hearing you talk about it only encouraged him, his tongue giving your clit a quick flick.

“Can you blame me?”

“Mmm…Yes!” Determined to not be distracted by Connor, your mouth hovered over him, tongue peeking out in anticipation.

What came out of his audio unit was barely human as you unexpectedly swallowed as much of him as you could. It stung a little, your throat stretching to accommodate his size, but it was worth it to feel him squirm. You used everything you had at your disposal, your fingers, stroking and squeezing when your mouth pulled off him, your tongue curling around the hot and heavy shape of him, and your moan, which served to tighten your throat in the sweetest torture.

A torrent of software anomalies cut through the darkness behind his closed eyes but it did not deter him from maneuvering his fingers to stroke your tensing walls, nor did it ruin his focus as his tongue flicked your clit at inhuman speeds. The RK800 indulged—basked in your presence. If there was anything Connor enjoyed the most, it was seeing you come apart, to feel you writhe in his grasp, to flooding your senses like you did to his.

Your shoulders tensed, skin feeling impossibly hot and tight as his fingers continued to summon a spark that climbed up your spine. It built up, until there was nowhere left for it to go except explode in fizzes that consumed your nerves. His name was a muffled cry in your throat, one that triggered his own end.

You heard him curse as he lapped once more into your pulsing core, followed by a string of words that you couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You did hear his chuckle, felt him rest his damp cheek on your thigh.

“Are you still with me?”

By some small mercy, you hadn’t choked on him as he was still in your mouth. Releasing him with a wet pop, you replied, “No. I’m pretty sure you just killed me.”

He laughed while you managed to untangle from him to turn and face him, returning to straddle his thighs. He joined you in an upright position and you met his gaze, followed the subtle twitch of his irises as he focused on your blissed out smile. Perhaps it was the culmination of distance, time, or the stresses of work and finally…coming home, a weight was simultaneously lifted as a new one settled in your chest. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to finally enjoy his welcoming embrace.

“I couldn’t wait to get back to you,” you whispered in the dark.

He stroked your sweat slick skin, tracing the gentle curve of your back.

“Did you know, I was afraid to go into stasis when you were away?”

“What?” You sat up straighter in the bed, knees falling further apart. Connor shifted strategically, brushing your core with his tip. “What do you mean?”

“I had a theory it would only make me miss you more.”

“Oh…Connor.”

“When I woke, you were here so…” He leaned in, finally getting the kiss he’d been yearning for. You could feel the upward tug of his lips, the sugary, tooth rotting affection he so desperately wanted to convey. “Now I’m going to be sorely disappointed if this isn’t always the end result.”

“Ooo, maybe this is still a—”

Connor interrupted your playful remark, capturing your lips with the gentle push of his hand around the back of your neck. You still hovered over him and he whimpered into the kiss when you circled your hips. He broke away first, slowly, as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere, the heat of his exhaust still warm and close on your skin.

A blue light shimmered from his fingertips down to his elbows, revealing the intricate panels of his synthetic muscles. His palms buzzed faintly around your cheeks. Warm honeyed eyes, tinted with an electric blue hue held yours captive.

“I love you,” he said, voice low and quiet.

You captured one of his hands with yours, repeating his words with as much devotion as you could. “I love you too, Connor.”

Together, in sync, you sank onto him as he rose up to push into you. Wrapping his arms tightly around your back, his fingers kneaded your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your arms fit over his shoulders, cradling his face. He prepared you more than enough, sliding in with ease until you sat comfortably on his lap.

“I’ll never get enough of this,” he half slurred on your collarbones as he licked and sucked the flesh. “Of you.”

You dipped your head, meeting his dazed eyes. “You have me. You’ll always have me.”

Your words stoked a new fire in him as he began to bounce you over his lap. When his mouth began searching for yours, he laid sloppy kisses up your jaw until he claimed your lips. He licked into your mouth like he couldn’t get enough of being a part of you, driving the point further home with deep, slow thrusts. When he pulled you off his lap, he kept you stretched open, only to slide back at an angle that had you clawing his neck and shoulders. Pressed this close, his pelvis rubbed against your clit and you were certain you wouldn’t last.

The thought went out the window when he freed his hand to slip between your bodies. It would be a cramped and uncomfortable position for a man, but his joints could tolerate odd angles. His fingers alternated between slow sweeping strokes and quick circles. He could tell when you were close, extended your pleasure for both of your sakes with his well timed fingers.

A sensation of being build up and up, like an elevator that seemed to go on indefinitely tugged at the edges of your mind. It was worse than waiting for a beat that promised to drop.

“Connor!”

If his soft grunts and moans were anything to go by, the RK800 was thoroughly enjoying himself. His nose was on your neck and he could feel your heart pounding through thin skin.

“Almost there. You’re doing so…” he moaned, feeling your muscles begin to spasm. “S-so, well.”

“Connor…I’m…please…!”

He pulled you flush into his lap, burying himself as deep as he could go, striking the last frazzled nerve you had left. It wasn’t nearly as intense as your first one but it contained a closeness that the other one did not. Connor slowed the movement of his thrusts and you felt him fill and stiffen before a wash of warmth trickled into you. You both rode out each others highs for a few more moments, stroking each others backs lovingly and him, lovesick as he was, had a grin spreading from ear to ear.

When you both settled down a bit, he made movements to gently lift you. Your legs clamped tight, dissuading him.

“W-wait. Can we…stay together? Like this?” you asked.

Even though your suggestion made him twitch from within you, he nodded, knowing you both desired a different kind of intimacy. He wiped a stray bead of sweat off your brow. “Of course.”

Your thighs ached in protest as your body decided your knees didn’t make good weight bearing cushions.

“Maybe we can try lying down?”

He leaned backwards, guiding you down with him, careful to not disturb how you were both still connected. You relaxed and laid your head on his chest.

“What happened to your extra meeting?” he asked, tone light and curious.

“Uhh…I kinda told them I had a family emergency.”

“Sweetheart,” he replied, slightly worried, not about the family emergency, it was obvious enough that you had lied to get back to him sooner.

“They’ll be fine without me. They signed when I landed in Detroit so…”

Connor made a poor attempt at a chiding scoff but couldn’t mask his smile. You pivoted your hips to distract him, and it did, briefly.

“I do not condone your actions…”

“But…?” you probed.

“I am glad to have you home.”

You hummed something back to him. It mostly sounded like gibberish even to his sharp ears. When he glanced down at you, he found your eyes shut, breathing even. Eventually, your body would protest for sleeping in such a strange position. He’d slip you off of him to your side of the bed, clean you off with a warm towel and tuck you both back into bed.

As for now…

His arm draped over your back and the other pulled the covers up. Connor laid a gentle peck on your forehead, caught the slight lift in your lips and couldn’t help but lay one more kiss down. He let out a deep sigh, content to shut his eyes and join you in a short slumber.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

#my writing #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #dbh connor #rk800 #reader insert #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #connor rk800 x reader

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earth-93 · 3 months

Text

BRIGADE FILES: UNUS THE UNTOUCHABLE

Stars & Stripes Hotline [Version 1.13]

C: \login\BuddyHolly

C:\Users\mini\BrigadeFiles\Xmen

Directory of C: \BrigadeFiles\Xmen

04/27/2006 10:19 AM Total Files Listed: 15 File(s) 168,248 bytes

Directory of C:\BrigadeFiles\Xmen\UNUSCIONE_ANGELO.txt

[file data =

Main Alias/Moniker: Unus the Untouchable

Legal Name: Angelo Unuscione

Other Aliases: Gunther Bain

Date of Birth: November 8th, 1968 (Age: 36)

Status: Alive

Species: Mutant

Sex: Male

Gender: Cisgender

Height/Weight: 6′1″ (1.85 m) / 220 lbs (99.79 kg)

Hair/Eye Color: Black / Blue

Timeline (1968 - 1987): Angelo was born in Milan, but primarily grew up in Caracas. His family fled the political violence in Italy at the time of Angelo's birth and resumed their careers as artists in Venezuela. Angelo was apparently not as deft with a pencil or paintbrush as his parents or siblings, which made him the black sheep of the family. He instead sought to continue the family tradition of the arts through an acting career, and through those pursuits took up bodybuilding and wrestling.

The Unusciones lived comfortably across Angelo's childhood, but were among those affected Venezuela's economic collapse in the 1980's. This is most likely when Angelo's fixation on material wealth in his youth first came about, as did his mutant abilities. It stands to reason that Angelo did not understand himself to be a mutant at the time, but even back then superhumans still permeated the global zeitgeist enough that he was able to reconcile suddenly having the ability to generate force fields.

Whatever the case, Angelo most certainly was quick to capitalize on his newfound powers. With his acting talents, formidable physicality and the ability to render himself untouchable, Angelo reasoned that American wrestling was the best venue to showcase his talents and earn the wealth and fame he desired. With Venezuela's situation only worsening through the decade, Angelo had little inclination to stay. With money likely stolen from his parents, he acquired a fake identity and immigration papers forged and fled to the US.

Timeline (1987 - 1992): After stints in various promotions under his fake alias of Gunther Bain, Angelo enlisted in the Midwest-based Ultra Class Wrestling Federation (Now known as the Unlimited Class Wrestling Federation). Through Hank's diligent investigations, we now know that the UCWF (As well as, most presciently, its holding company the Brand Corporation) scouted and pursued performers with observable superhuman traits for high-spectacle matches and tournaments. It was under his contract with the UCWF that Angelo first gained his title of "Unus the Untouchable."

Though he finally gained fame and fortune, he also found an organization eager to exploit him. After numerous arguments with the UCWF'S promotion over his matches, Angelo sought to walk out and bring his celebrity into a different promotion. Curtiss Jackson, the UCWF's owner, overbooked him without his awareness, and his string of no-shows effectively blacklisted him with any other promoter or territory. With both this and the threat to expose his falsified documents, Angelo was consigned to Jackson's whim, and spent the next few years strung along various international matches—which is most certainly where Angelo first caught word of Magneto and the Brotherhood.

Timeline (1992 - 2003): It's unclear how and when Angelo was officially approached by agents of the Brotherhood, but it's safe to say when his recruitment finally occurred Angelo was more than amenable to their agenda. Angelo has heavily credited the Brotherhood and Magneto's revolutionary rhetoric that made him into a better person. Having not only been personally exploited by the UCWF but witnessing many others caught within the same exploitation, Angelo claims to have become disillusioned with his younger drives towards material wealth and found a more noble cause to live his life by. His unique cultural background made him especially attuned to the Brotherhood's anti-nationalist views. Today, Angelo identifies more of a mutant that he does a Venezuelan or Italian.

Angelo was so committed to the Brotherhood that he maintained his celebrity and contract for the UCWF for several more years, acting as a scout and recruiter for other mutants across his travels. Fred Dukes was among those recruits, and Hank was of course was another attempt. Following our intervention of Santo Marco, Angelo finally went off the grid. Our first direct confrontation with him was a few months later when he, Dukes and Toad pretended to be X-Men, terrorizing people and causing property damage to sully our reputation.

That instance in itself ties back into Angelo's inconsistent code of honor. He believes in the cause of the Brotherhood wholeheartedly, and thus views the X-Men as an obstruction to their goals. However, unlike some members Angelo claims to wish no ill will against us, perceiving us more as misguided than betrayers or frauds. Even as the brief leader of the "Factor Three," Angelo repeatedly professed to us he wasn't anything personal.

This "no hard feelings" act was far more credible later that year, when he saved Jean and Hank's life. When they were abducted by the Brotherhood, even Angelo could see how the trial arranged for their crimes against mutantkind were unfairly rigged, and aided Jean and Hank in evading their death sentence and making their getaway. At time of writing, Angelo remains at large, though reports indicate he is among the loyalists of Magneto who have found sanctuary within the island nation of Genosha.

/file data]

#earth93 #marvel #fanfic #comics #comic books #x men comics #xmen #scott summers #jean grey #hank mccoy #unus the untouchable #blob #toad #magneto

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sad-boy-hank · 2 years

Text

WARNINGS: Gaslighting, manipulation, abuse of most kinds, branding, mangling, neglect, conditioning, isolation

NOTES: heho feathers soft/ also some 2bhank, sanmos, and torscrape so huehuehuehu

>> Hank and 2BDamned are both very, very touchy. How could they not be? You're like an angel descended from heaven, pure and untainted (even if you aren't). You spend your days with your wings tied together (the pair wouldn't dream of hurting you!) in Hank's lap, being petted and pampered by his partner Doc. They even hand feed you! Isn't this just wonderful? Isn't it? You are kept far, far away from Sanford and Deimos (For your own safety of course!) so they won't help you, and the AAHW would likely kill you, so all in all it's hopeless. You're hopeless.

>> Meanwhile, Sanford and Deimos are a bit more. . . fiery, shall we say. They're constantly arguing about what to do with you (should they tie up your wings so you don't strain them? Or is chaining down your feet and paws enough?), and it gets to the point where they become physically aggressive with each other. You're the only thing that can tear them apart like this, they both love you dearly but god are they selfish. Is it truly so sinful for one to want you all to himself?

>> The Employers clipped your wings the moment they got their paws on you and kept them as trophies to flaunt their power over you. It's honestly disgusting, how they take them down from the wall to pet and hold, sometimes using your disembodied wings as blankets. They pay more attention to the wings than they do you, often forgetting to feed and bathe you until your growling stomach is too much to bear. In their defense, it's hard. Hard to take care of something so fragile.

>> The scientists, Jebediah, Hofnarr, and Crackpot keep you safe and sound in a glass containment cell. It's the safest place you can be, or so they claim. It's a whole 3ft of thick glass surrounding you, there's no way any bad guys could get in and hurt you! They'd fight tooth and nail if anyone tried to harm you- they just want you to be safe and happy and if they have to force some joy from you they will.

>> Church and Jorge are a pair who don't need to *convince* you to do anything. Not like you can fly away when they've already broken your wings. The two try hard to care for you. They steal food, smother you with love, and even steal random grunts to keep your spirits up. So be happy! They've given you everything you could ever ask for, so why don't you act grateful for once? It's not like they ask for much in return- just your love and affection.

>> Phobos treats you less like a partner and more like an exotic pet. Sure, you're fed well, have no responsibilities, and are waited on paw and foot, but you're still trapped. Kept at paw's reach with a pretty pink shock collar and a cute chain leash, there's no way you can go anywhere without your doting master (And don't think about escaping in the dead of night- even then he has you chained to the headboard.).

>> The absolutely menacing pair of Agent Torture and Scrapeface love to watch you flit about in your invisible prison. Your crying is just the cutest thing to them! Torture adores the way you squirm in his grasp. You really aren't going anywhere- Scrapeface doesn't even need to be awake to keep you safe and immobilized for him and his partner to touch and pet and love.

>> The Sheriff keeps you in a containment unit, safely underground away from the chaos of Nevada. Though he visits infrequently, he cherishes every moment with you. Every time he has to leave, he leaves something with you (He's trying to become your comfort scent, and trying to make you addicted to him. Unfortunately, judging by the way you light up when you see him, it's working.). He loves the way you open your wings to see him, all ready to embrace.

#winged! reader #yandere madness combat #madness combat #madness combat x reader #cc don't look #enigma don't look #retro don't read

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lonelyghosts-stuff · 3 years

Text

Marvel’s What If Episode 5 Reaction

Oh boy I heard this is the zombie one. Cmon Gianna you can do this. You’ve seen every single episode of The Simpsons including the Treehouse of Horror episodes which are pretty gory for an animated show. Man I’m pathetic

Man I just wanna Loki episode 😭

I know it seems pathetic how nervous I am, but ever since I was a kid I’ve had a bad fear of zombies affecting even my sleep paralysis

Whenever the Watcher says “Time.” at the beginning of the intro, I keep thinking it’s Morgan Freeman lol

I wonder how the zombie apocalypse starts

Ah crap it’s Infinity War related

I wonder if Bruce would be immune to the zombie infection cuz of the Hulk

Honestly? Mark Ruffalo is one of the best voice actors from the original cast I’ve seen

We haven’t seen Tony’s face yet or any of their faces yet… uhhhh

Ah damn

CAPEY TO THE RESCUE

Oh poor wong

Damn they still have their powers as zombies

Locusts?

Well they were defeated quickly

Oh hey spider man and hope! Wait where’s Scott????

No mourning or crying your friends died?

“From a place of hope.” Uh oh. What’s the Pyms do this episode?

Dangit Hank

Uh oh Zombie fam

NO PAUL RUDD

Well that was fast

Thanks a lot avengers

Well that was fast. A shrinking, almost impossible to see, zombie. At least we’ve got an army of flesh eating ants?

Thanks for the homemade video Peter

Weird that Tom Holland isn’t voicing Peter. I know he can voice act and he’s clearly sticking with the mcu for at least a little longer…

Poor Happy lol

“I’m not single, I’m saving myself for Thor.” Lmao me but with Loki

Hey at least Kurt is still alive!

BUCKY IS STILL ALIVE

Oh so is Sharon

Okoye is alive too!

Odd Peter isn’t like depressed considering not only did Tony die, but I’m assuming Aunt May and his best friends did too…

Oh that’s a cool place for a hideout! High above the streets held up by webbing! Just hope Hank Pym zombie is dead though because he can fly and shrink…

Spider-Man is oddly optimistic. Like yes he’s a bubbly teen in highschool but cmon. Be a little more pessimistic lmao. Even if you find a cure, too many people have been killed killed for it to be an easy fix. You’ll never see Tony again.

Poor Happy lmao

Oh that’s one way to kill a zombie

Split up? Okoye I thought you’d be smarter than this…

Oh happy has an Iron Man glove

Man I hope Bucky is okay

NOOOOOO ZOMBIE SAM WILSON

Uh oh

HAPPY NO!!!!

Blam!

Hawkeye Dangit

Oh poor Peter

Peter look out!

Dang I’m kinda surprised Sam got zombified considering he can fly

Really Sharon? Blam?

Dangit Bucky 😂

CAPEY TO THE RESCUE!!!

Hey since Scott is dead, maybe

Spider man supreme

Yea you should’ve stayed together

Uh oh

Sharon…

Run… tell the others

Tunnel

Uh oh

Cap…

Poor Bucky… you gotta kill him. He cant be saved like he saved you

Winter soldier all over again

End of line lmao. Still pulling one liners when killing ya best friend.

Oh poor Sharon

Finally the shield had realistic physics with killing people like that

Oh wow that was gory. Poor Sharon. Uh oh Hope.

Dangit Peter 😂

Yea how do you stay upbeat?

Well that got depressing fast

Now he does sound kinda like tom Holland, but not really. I’m confused.

Out of gas? Welp. Check that off the list of zombie cliches lol. That’s a lot of zombies.

Hope gonna sacrifice herself.

Giant hope. Gonna smoosh and get bitten as well I bet.

Yep Peter really losing everyone

Hope just shrink and fly you can still—okay never mind

Banner, maybe you would have been better with Thanos?

Babayaga? Watch her exist in this dimension.

Oh vision! Since he’s a robot is he immune?

Oh cool the stone is the key.

PAUL RUDD YAY!!!

Oh he’s just a head

Yo it’s futurama lmao

Uhhhh hey Scott your girlfriend just died outside. Sorry

Of course Wakanda is still okay

Bucky you know splitting up is a bad idea!!! Get back here?

BUCKY CMON

CHADWICK!!!!

And Wanda!!!

Oh no

Vision is evil

A swap of Wanda Vision

Love does suck

Dammit Vision

Uh oh

Maybe run?

The scarlet zombie

What was your prom like Scott?

Wingardium leviosa!

OKOYE NO!!!!!

Dammit vision!!!!

How is she so powerful as a zombie but Stephen strange who has had more experience died so easily

I’m honestly shocked Vision would do something like this. It seems so out of character. I mean, the keeping her alive is probably realistic, but sacrificing innocent people to feed her sounds really out of character. Yknow, with his whole android super intelligence thing… and seeing his reactions in WandaVision really makes this feel out of character… eh whatever… it’s an alternative reality…

Man it’s infinity war all over again

BUCKY NO CMON MAN

Oh yay hulk saved Bruce

Well, Bucky has survived longer falls in the past so…

Poor Peter. You’re an avenger now, kid!

If he still stays in Hulk form couldn’t he possibly be immune?

Or are we gonna get a zombie hulk? Because if so, lol we’re all doomed. An unkillable zombie

Giant hope zombie

Poor Scott…

Soooo Bruce? Is he good? We just leaving him behind

Poor Peter jeez

“In my culture, death is not the end.” Oh man I’m gonna cry… I miss Chadwick so much. I didn’t know he was going to be in this episode. Wakanda forever, King.

“The world could use a little heart.” Well Scott doesn’t exactly have a body or a heart soooo…

Oh crap zombie Thanos. How did he get all the stones?

Wait what???? That’s it???? We don’t get any closure???? What about Banner? What about the cure? What??? Oh come on! Not even a part two? Are you kidding???

Well that is a disappointing ending… gotta say I had higher hopes… even if it had a bad ending, I was hoping for like, well, AN ENDING.

Need part two. Not enough questions answered. How did Thanos get zombified? You’d think he’d be pretty invulnerable with all the stones. He also only just came to earth. What about Bucky? Sure he was yeeted but he’s survived longer falls. And Banner? What about Thor and the guardians? Would an asgardian even be affected by zombieism? I mean we saw other aliens get affected so probably, but still.

Too many unanswered questions. Felt like they wanted to tell more but the editor sneezed and cut the episode in half on accident.

#marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel studios #marvel series #marvel shows #marvel what if #what if #marvel’s what if #what if zombies

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marvelyningreen · 3 years

Text

Aftershocks - Night 2

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | (deleted scene)

[Summary: Peter Maximoff is an unflappable sorta guy. He’d never let anything get to him before, and this recent misadventure will be no different. ...Right?

Warnings: mild language, alcohol use, references to injury & false imprisonment, general trauma-related angst

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the established relationship variety. A ‘what if Fietro really was Peter?’ scenario. Same continuity/reader character from Linger and Late-bloomer. ]

On the second night, Kurt and Jubilee organize a party. It’s sort of a ‘welcome back’ for Peter, and a ‘welcome in general’ for Wanda and the twins.

It’s awfully sweet of them. And you’re impressed that they’ve managed to order in enough food for everyone on such short notice.

Peter had been busy for most of the day. He’d volunteered to help the professor and continue playing tour guide for Wanda and the kids. You’d offered to help, too, but Peter insisted that you should take it easy. He’s probably right, much as you’d hated to admit it. There’s no way you could’ve kept up with him and two energetic kids.

And that’s how you ended up spending the most of the morning in the lab with Hank.

In true Hank fashion, he had tons of questions, and you did your best to answer them. There are still quite a few things you don’t fully understand yourself.

The revelation that other realities exist is wild to begin with. A world where mutants don’t exist but magic does sounds like a work of fiction. And then there’s the fact that Wanda’s from someplace called ‘Sokovia?’ As far as you and Hank could figure, that country has never existed in your world.

Hank’s scientific curiosity was focused on trying to wrap his head around how Wanda’s powers worked, and how they could’ve caused Captain Rambeau to spontaneously develop powers of her own. You weren’t able to be much help there, but once Hank gets himself hypothesizing, he could talk for hours with no input from anyone else.

Eventually, you brought up your concerns about Peter and his odd lapses in memory. Hank’s brows furrowed pensively as he listened.

“Well, I can tell you there’s nothing physically wrong with Peter,” he said. “I could ask him to let me examine him again, but if the issue isn’t a physical one, that might just make things worse. If you’re really worried about him, my advice is to talk to Charles.”

You sighed. “And he’s busy showing Wanda around.”

Which was exactly where Peter would be, so no chance to talk to the professor without him noticing. Hank stood up, patting your shoulder.

“Listen, I know I’m not great company when I’m focused on work,” he said, “But you’re welcome to stay here while you wait.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

You’d actually spent a lot of time down in the lab since your reality warping abilities had fully manifested. Hank was fascinated by getting to witness them in person, and the fact that you’d used them to save his life probably had something to do with it.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching out your injured leg a little. It didn’t take Hank long to get so immersed in his work that he started thinking aloud to himself, trying to work out some complicated chemical reaction.

Your thoughts drifted back to Peter. He’d seemed distracted that morning, almost distant. You tried to think what caused it – if something had happened, or even if there was something you’d said…? But you couldn’t think of anything.

Maybe it’d had something to do with his dream. But no, he said he didn’t remember it. Maybe – and you were grasping at straws by this point – he was embarrassed that you’d seen it? That could be. Peter was a pretty open guy, and you hadn’t thought that machismo was one of his faults, but it’s a possibility.

Oh. Oh, damn it all – you’d done it again. You weren’t sure when your eyes had closed, or when you’d leaned your head back against the chair. Hank was still talking to himself-

Only no, he wasn’t. There was a second voice answering him now. Upon lifting your head, you noticed that Hank’s jacket was folded under it as a makeshift pillow. You blinked in the brightness of the lab, looking around to see where the conversation was coming from.

Hank and the professor broke off as they noticed you stirring. Hank smiled apologetically.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he explained. “You looked so tired. I figured you could use the rest.”

“Apparently I did. Sorry about that,” you said, sitting up straight in the chair again. “What time is it?”

“Just after noon,” said the professor. “We decided to break for lunch, so Peter’s showing them the kitchens. Now, Hank tells me that something’s troubling you.”

“It’s Peter, sir,” you said. You went over everything once more – the diminishing memories of Westview, the nightmare. “Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but… I don’t know. What if something that witch did is still affecting him?”

The professor had listened carefully while you spoke. You thought that he looked a little concerned, but you might’ve imagined it, because when you finished, he smiled.

“Thank you for coming to me with this,” he said, “But I have a feeling you’re not going to like my answer.”

You grimaced. “You’re going to tell me to wait and see, aren’t you.”

You’re well aware that this was the sort of thing the professor said when he was being evasive. He laughed.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said. “I will tell you that I truly believe Peter will be fine. If anything changes or worsens, don’t hesitate to bring it to my attention. But until that time, I’m leaving him in your care. I know I can rely on you.”

You gaze drifted to the floor, and you frowned slightly. Of course the professor could count on you to look after Peter. But how on earth were you supposed to help if you don’t know what’s going on?

If Peter had been physically hurt, that’s something you could fix. You were out of your depth here. Useless. Just like old times.

“None of that, if you please,” said the professor, in response to your thoughts. “Do you think I’d be leaving this in your hands if I didn’t think you were up to the task? Now, I’ve already told Peter that, as of today, he’s taking some mandatory time off, and the same goes for you. No missions for a while. You’re to get some rest and look after yourself. Understood?”

That surprised you. But before you could attempt to get anything more out of the professor, the door opened to admit Peter and the other Maximoffs. Peter’s face brightened as he caught sight of you.

“I figured you’d be down here,” he said. “And I also figured you probably didn’t eat lunch yet. Was I right? Yeah, I thought so. Which is why I brought lunch to you.”

“You know the rules,” Hank interrupted. “No food in the lab, Peter.”

Peter grinned, rolling his eyes, as he helped you to your feet.

“Alright, alright – we’re going,” he said.

Saying that you looked like you could use some daylight, Peter led you out of the lab to find somewhere to eat your lunch. He seemed cheerful and normal enough, and not, y’know, like he was avoiding you or something. You started to wonder if maybe you really were imagining things.

It was easy enough not to bring up the inconclusive conversation you’d had with the professor. The twins were bursting to tell somebody that there was going to be a party, and that it was gonna be their first party ever.

So far, it seems to be going well. The twins are already making friends among the younger students. Wanda still seems a little reserved – understandably – but the professor sticks close to her to make introductions and keep her company.

You’d like a chance to talk to her yourself, but maybe now isn’t the time. A party can be something of an overwhelming environment, especially now that you’ve been informed that you’re actually one of the guests of honor.

You probably should’ve seen this coming. You’re the one who took on a solo rescue mission, after all. Kurt sheepishly admits that they purposefully hadn’t told you that part because they figured you wouldn’t come if you knew. He is correct.

But Peter’s in his element as the life of the party – and he’s tipsy almost instantly. It’s one of the quirks of his mutant metabolism; alcohol hits him fast. Fortunately, drunk Peter is just an amped-up version of his usual cheerful and chaotic personality. You’re not much of a partier, yourself, so you’re content to enjoy his antics from the sidelines.

Which is what you’re doing when Jubilee sidles up to you.

“Okay, you have to tell me everything,” she says. “I mean, getting to go to another reality? What was it like?”

You laugh. “You’ve gotta be the fifth person to ask me that. Peter was there longer than I was.”

“But Peter doesn’t remember any of it,” she says, “And it’d be rude to ask Wanda a bunch of questions when we’ve only just met, so that leaves you. Now, spill.”

You satisfy Jubilee’s curiosity as best you can, but something she said strikes you as strange. Peter doesn’t remember anything about Westview? That doesn’t seem right.

When Captain Rambeau broke that mind control necklace, Peter didn’t seem confused or anything, just… Well, if you had to describe it, you’d say he looked horrified. And after he made sure that you were okay, the first thing he’d said was that the twins might still be in danger and that you all had to help them.

Then again, he’d let Wanda do all the explaining to the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr. And you’d gotten the rundown from that astrophysicist, Dr. Lewis, after she finished grumbling about being the exposition fairy, whatever that meant.

And Peter lives for being the center of attention. Overlooked and underappreciated for much of his life, a party like this is exactly the sort of validation he craves. If there was a chance for him to tell his story to a rapt audience, he’d jump at it.

So… maybe Peter really doesn’t remember anything. Maybe the whole thing is like a dream for him. The further away from it that he gets, the less clear the memory is.

When the party starts to wind down, the same can’t be said for Peter. Just as you’re trying to work out how on earth you’re going to corral him, Logan catches your eye.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get him,” he says.

You grin. “I thought you said that he’s my problem now.”

“He is. But that knee’s not gonna help you carry his ass upstairs.” Logan drains the last of his drink and calls across the room. “Alright, kid! Time to pack it in!”

Peter waves, takes an unsteady step towards you, and manages to run smack into Logan a split second later. Logan shoots you an exasperated look.

“What’d I tell you?” he says.

Logan manages to keep Peter upright as you head upstairs, but keeping him quiet is another thing entirely. Peter spends the entire walk explaining to Logan – in fumbling but earnest detail – all the ways in which you are the most amazing person he has ever met.

When Logan gets a word in edgewise, it’s to inform you that Peter’s been doing this all evening to anybody who would listen, and even to the people who wouldn’t. You’re honestly not sure if you feel more flattered or mortified.

At long last, you reach Peter’s door, and Logan props him up against the doorframe.

“Alright, he’s officially your problem again,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, old-timer!” Peter calls, waving off your attempts to shush him. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

He opens the door and nearly tumbles back into the room. He catches himself, clearing his throat as he straightens up.

“I meant to do that,” he says.

You shake your head, trying to bit back a grin. Once the door is closed behind you, you steer Peter towards the bed and sit him down. He takes hold of your hands.

“Listen. Listen. I have to tell you something.” He struggles to turn his bleary expression serious. “I love you, so much. You just… I love you, okay?”

Is it wrong that you find this slurred profession of love incredibly heartwarming? You smile at Peter, leaning down to kiss him.

“I know,” you say softly. “I love you, too. But you gotta get some sleep now, okay?”

Peter nods, frowning slightly for some reason.

“I know, I know,” he says.

He flops back onto the bed, mumbling something that might be lyrics to a song. And by the time you get his shoes off, he’s conked out completely.

After setting Peter’s shoes aside, you sit down on the sofa again. You know he’s fine. Sure, he’s drunk, but he’s not that drunk. But what if he needs something? Or what if he has another nightmare?

You know you shouldn’t dwell on everything, but once you start thinking about it, you find you can’t stop. You wonder what it was like for Peter, being dragged from this reality into another, having his personality forcibly rewritten.

If your experience had been unpleasant, how much worse must it have been for him?

The second you’d stepped into Westview, you were nearly overwhelmed. Some unknown power seemed to be forcing a name – not your own – onto you like a shackle around your neck. A thousand memories of a life you hadn’t lived flooded your mind. More alarming still, Peter was present in many of them. You had no idea if what you were seeing was the past, or the future, or something else entirely.

And underneath it all was a crushing, all-encompassing feeling of utter despair. It threatened to swallow you whole, and it seemed pointless to fight it.

And then – a calm, familiar presence in your mind. You remembered turning back, seeing the professor’s face as he watched you enter the portal. Suddenly, the onslaught lifted, and you were simply yourself again.

Also, you’d apparently collapsed at some point, because you were laying on the pavement with a tall blond stranger leaning over you.

He was the only person who seemed at all concerned that you’d just fainted in the middle of the street. He said his name was Vision. You introduced yourself as Ace. It was close enough to your codename that you’d remember it, and the professor had cautioned you against saying too much about where you’d come from.

But Vision seemed to recognize that there was something different about you, that you’d come from outside Westview. He was worried about his children, and his wife, and the rest of the citizens. You explained that you didn’t know what had happened to the town, and that you’d come looking for a missing friend.

You’d just agreed to try to help each other when reality seemed to bend around you, and suddenly you were sitting in a diner finishing a cup of coffee, and Vision was nowhere in sight.

The next time you saw him, the spell was ending, and he disappeared. You wish you could’ve gotten the chance to get to know him better. He seemed like a good man.

You try to put that from your mind. It’s just gonna make you sad again if you think about it for too long.

Instead, you glance over at Peter. He seems to be sleeping soundly, which is good.

But memories of Westview aren’t done with you yet.

You’ve had nightmares before about people you know acting in ways that were frighteningly unlike them. And even knowing it was all just a dream, you always felt a little uneasy the next time you’d see them. It’s the same way you feel watching Peter now.

That’s not fair; you know it isn’t. And maybe out of context, it’d sound strange to get worked up about it. But to have the person you love – the person who loves you – treat you with indifference, and get cruel enjoyment out of your pain?

That’s the stuff of nightmares.

Enough of that. You give your head a shake, like that’ll clear your thoughts somehow. It wasn’t Peter. It was the witch that was controlling him, forcing him to do all those things. You know this. It’s just lucky he hadn’t been forced to really hurt anyone.

It’s over, and Peter doesn’t remember what it was like, and that’s probably for the best.

Still, as you watch him sleep, you find yourself so badly wanting to hold him that it almost makes your chest ache. Peter hasn’t just been distant emotionally since Westview.

Since you’d started dating, Peter was a source of constant casual physical affection. Whenever you were together, he’d always have his arm around you, or be holding your hand, or sit close enough that his leg was pressed against yours. You hadn’t realized how much you’d gotten used to it – grown to expect it, even – until it’s suddenly absent.

Having be so withdrawn from you now, well… It hurts, if you’re being honest, especially since you don’t know why, and you don’t know how to help.

But there’s nothing you can do about it at this moment. And, since Peter doesn’t look to be having any more nightmares, it’s probably time for you to go. You ease yourself onto your feet, just now noticing how stiff your knee has gotten after standing around all evening at the party.

You limp as quietly as you can towards the door – and proceed to trip over Peter’s shoes.

You yelp in pain as your knee twists and you go crashing to the floor. You grit your teeth, trying not to swear.

And suddenly the lights are on in the room, and Peter’s kneeling beside you.

“What happened?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

That’s right. As fast as Peter gets drunk, he sobers up just as quickly. He looks present and alert at the moment, if a little worried.

“I tripped over the damn shoes,” you answer. “I’m fine, I think. I just-”

You break off, wincing, as you try to straighten out your leg. Damn it. Is it possible to double-sprain something? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Hang on,” says Peter. “Let me help.”

He doesn’t take your hands and help you stand up, like you’re expecting. Instead, he loops your arm around his shoulders and scoops you up bridal-style. The fact that he doesn’t use his superspeed almost disorients you more than if he had.

At a normal pace, he walks back and sets you down not on the sofa, but on his bed. He blurs for just a second, but that’s only to stack up his pillows to give you something to lean against.

As you gingerly straighten out your leg, Peter reaches out – to try to help, you suppose – then lets his hands fall in his lap.

“Thanks,” you say.

Peter frowns worriedly. “Can’t you do the…?”

He makes a gesture like he’s laying on hands or something, which confuses you for a second before you catch his meaning.

“Oh, I can’t do the healing stuff on myself,” you say. “Or at least I don’t know how yet. I gotta heal the old-fashioned way.”

You give him a wry smile. It could be worse, after all. You could’ve actually broken something. Peter doesn’t seem very reassured.

“I should get Hank,” he says.

“No, don’t!” you say as quickly as you can. “It’s not that bad. I’ll go to him in the morning, if I need to.”

No sense in dragging the poor man out of bed if it’s not an emergency. Unconvinced, Peter bites his lip.

“If you’re sure,” he says reluctantly, “But… Don’t move, okay? I’m gonna get you some ice.”

He’s gone. And then he’s back, holding a couple icepacks and a towel. You reach down to take the knee-brace off, but Peter swats your hands away. Why on earth-?

“Would you stop that?” he says, perching on the edge of the bed. “I’m trying to nurse you back to health here.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “Always the romantic.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why you like me.”

He’s not wrong. Peter flashes you a grin, and it’s so cheerful and unguarded and normal that it’s startling. This boy is gonna give you whiplash yet; you’re sure of it.

But then he looks down again to focus on the task at hand. He’s extraordinarily gentle as he undoes the brace and settles the icepacks on and around your knee. You want to turn his face towards you and kiss him, but you don’t. He must have some reason for keeping his distance.

As he’s finishing up, he finally speaks.

“I’m… I’m kinda afraid to ask, honestly, but how did you get hurt? It wasn’t- I mean,” Peter exhales forcefully, and hesitates before asking: “Was it me?”

His big, dark eyes meet yours, and the distress in his face nearly breaks your heart.

“What? No! Of course it wasn’t you,” you say.

Peter seems to relax a little, but still has that troubled look in his eyes. He really doesn’t remember, does he? You did get into a scuffle with him while he was still under mind control, and he had ended up knocking you down, but it hadn’t hurt you any more than tripping on the sidewalk would’ve. Also… this doesn’t seem like the right time to mention that part of the story. You hurry to explain.

“It was that witch – Agnes, or Agatha, or whatever her name is,” you say. “She couldn’t send me back, and she couldn’t get in my head, so she dumped me in the Westview Hospital psych ward.”

Peter’s jaw drops. “She what?”

“I mean, it wasn’t like a horror story hospital or anything,” you clarify. “It was actually a pretty nice place, aside from the fact that they wouldn’t let me leave because they thought I was dissociating and suffering from delusions. Which is exactly what what’s-her-name was counting on.”

Peter nods slowly, evidently more confused and no less concerned. “Okay… that explains where you were, but it doesn’t explain how you got hurt.”

“Oh, right. When I wasn’t able to talk my way out, I had to use my powers to get a window open. Only…” you wince at the memory. “My powers didn’t fully work in Westview, and the window was on the second floor. So when I jumped out of it, gravity did exactly what it’s supposed to do.”

Peter presses a hand to his mouth. Okay, this explanation is clearly making things worse.

“And then – okay, this isn’t funny, but it’s kinda funny. It was suddenly Halloween, so the streets were all covered in people and I had to hide, so I crawled into somebody’s hedges. Problem is, they spotted me and came over to see what was going on. So I told them,” you snort involuntarily just remembering it, “I told them that I was dressed up as a zombie, but it’s okay, I’m hiding in their hedge because I’m a method actor. And somehow, they bought it.”

You end your rambling with an awkward laugh, but it dies almost immediately. The anecdote didn’t mollify Peter even a little bit. Maybe you should’ve mentioned the part where you had to steal clothes off a scarecrow? … No, that probably wouldn’t have helped either.

Brows furrowed, eyes still troubled, he stares down at his hands. “You could’ve gone back. Why didn’t you go back?”

“Peter, I went to Westview to bring you home,” you say. “I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”

Although, now that he mentions it, going back for reinforcements probably would’ve been the smart thing to do. It honestly never occurred to you at the time. You were so focused on rescuing Peter that you couldn’t think of anything else.

For someone who allegedly doesn’t remember anything, Peter looks awfully distressed.

“Peter…?” you say, softly, “Are you alright?”

Before he can answer, you shiver violently, startling yourself as much as Peter, and completely breaking the moment.

“Sorry,” you say. “It’s the icepacks. I should probably get going soon, since I’m already cold.”

Peter blinks, and suddenly the shadow seems to lift from his mood. He’s bright and brisk again, taking the icepacks off of your knee.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “You’re not gonna go limping around in the cold in the middle of the night. You’ll end up getting sick on top of everything. You can stay here. No, don’t get up. I’ll crash on the couch this time.”

He’s really taking this ‘nurse you back to health’ thing seriously, isn’t he? Even if he’s just playing at it, it’s still kinda sweet. You can’t help but smile a little.

“How very Jane Austen of you,” you say.

Peter snorts. “That’s gotta be the nerdiest compliment anyone’s ever given me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As he finishes setting aside the icepacks, he turns back to face you.

“Now,” he says, “Is there anything else you need?”

Half-smiling, he looks at you with those big dark eyes, and you can’t help yourself. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a crushing embrace. You know it might make you look clingy, but you don’t care.

You’re fully prepared to pull away just as fast, but Peter’s arms fold around you almost instantly. He nestles his cheek against your head, gently stroking your hair.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

When you finally do pull back, Peter smiles down at you, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m not going anywhere, alright?” he says. “I promise.”

He kisses your forehead, and helps you arrange the pillows and settle in for the night. After extracting a promise that you’ll wake him up if you need something, he retreats to the couch.

The familiar scent of Peter’s cologne lingers reassuringly on his pillows. He’s not going anywhere, you tell yourself. The person who took him is in no position to cause him any more harm.

So why does it feel like part of him is still gone?

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fanfiction #x men fanfiction #wandavision fanfic #(I mean... it’s both and neither)#fun fact! i started writing out a whole other flashback sequence #about meeting Monica and helping free Peter #but it went on too dang long so I cut it #maybe I’ll finish it up and post it as a deleted scene

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senacal · 3 years

Note

Hello! Could you do a jealous! Erik Lensherr x Reader. Theyre both professors and all btw. Thanks!

Assumptions

Request: Requested by a lovely Anon 💕

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x Gender Neutral Reader

Prompt: Hello! Could you do a jealous!Erik Lensherr x Reader. They’re both professors and all btw. Thanks!

Warnings: Misunderstandings, jealousy

Abbreviations: (Y/F/N)- your full name, (Y/N)- your name

Author’s Note: 😬 Sorry this took so long to get out, I had a little bit of writer’s block and of course my dear friend, no motivation. The reader is gender-neutral cause I wasn’t sure what was wanted.

As always, Requests Are Open!

(Not my Gif)

(Y/F/N) loved their job. They couldn’t explain what had convinced them to teach at Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters; perhaps it was Charles Xavier himself, or more likely, the student’s enthusiasm to learn from them. (Y/N) never expected to be a teacher, considering their high school and college experiences weren’t the most exciting or thrilling. They were almost convinced Teachers hated them, which is why it was ironic that they had become a teacher.

It was a year after (Y/N) had begun teaching that they had met Erik Lehnsherr. He was… different. Not in a bad way, but he was closed off. And he only ever talked to Charles, Raven, and occasionally Hank. For a month, (Y/N) thought he didn’t speak. There was nothing wrong with that either; a few of their students preferred to remain mute, and some students preferred to use Sign Language over speaking to communicate with (Y/N). So, if Erik was mute, it wasn’t an issue. (Y/N) wanted to get to know him better. Which was why they had attempted to be Erik’s friend.

Whenever Erik would enter a room, (Y/N) would casually make their way to him and make small talk. Most of the time they were met with silence. (Y/N) could have sworn Erik smiled the last time they talked to him, so they knew they were getting somewhere. Soon enough, Erik would start responding to them, small-short answers at first, but it was still something. (Y/N) even asked him if they were bugging him when the short answers continued. (He said no, but (Y/N) wasn’t so sure). Sometimes they wished they were an empath so they could get a read on Erik’s feelings, but alas, they were only able to heal an object’s physical wounds. But it was okay because they were a valued member of the team and Charles, Raven, and Hank loved them for them.

(Y/N) was almost worried Erik would never open up to them, but as soon as he joined the staff of Charles Xavier’s school, (Y/N) noticed Erik lingering near their classroom. It was almost as if he was seeking them out. (Y/N)’s heart fluttered in giddiness at the mere thought. Whenever they saw Erik in the halls, Erik would greet them with a hello and a kind smile. It was the best part of their day.

It got to the point where (Y/N) would expect to see Erik before they both went to their respective classes, (Y/N) to anatomy, and Erik to physics. This was why they found it disappointing that Erik was nowhere to be found. They wouldn’t have been too worried because even mutants got the flu and needed a vacation, but it was now the fourth day that (Y/N) hadn’t seen Erik and it was very concerning. Did something happen? Did Erik get hurt? Was he seriously ill? Did he leave again? Did he just not want to see (Y/N)? (Y/N) couldn’t stop their mind from jumping to conclusions. It even distracted them from their teaching, so they would often dismiss their class early. Why waste their’s and their student’s time if they couldn’t concentrate? In fact, with the constant short classes, (Y/N) shouldn’t have been surprised to see Charles stroll into their classroom.

“(Y/N), may I speak with you?” Charles asked once it was apparent that (Y/N) was too wrapped up in their thoughts to notice Charles.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry Charles, I’m just a bit distracted, what’s up?” They asked. (Y/N) sat at their desk hoping the steady position will get them to focus on Charles.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been letting the students out of class early the past few days, is anything the matter?” Charles asked.

“Oh, uh, no, I just, I’ve been distracted lately is all,” (Y/N)’s cheeks flushed in shame. They couldn’t let this issue affect their job any more than it already has.

“Distracted… by anything in particular?” He moved his wheelchair closer to (Y/N).

(Y/N) shifted so they could face Charles, “Is Erik okay?”

Charles raised his brows, “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“No reason, I just haven’t seen him is all, I was concerned,” (Y/N) shrugged. Maybe Erik really was avoiding them.

“He’s fine. I mean he was acting odd around me as well, but he said he was distracted. Seems to be a lot of that going on around here these days,” Charles nudged (Y/N)’s hand with a teasing smile.

(Y/N) huffed a small laugh, “I suppose I’m not the only one,” they drummed their fingers on their lap, “Don’t laugh, but I think Erik might be avoiding me and I’m kind of afraid that it might actually be true.”

“I won’t laugh at that, but Erik is a complex person. Sometimes he feels the need to isolate himself when he’s troubled, that could be why he’s been staying away,” Charles shrugged.

Charles had a point, Erik didn’t seem the type to confide in someone if something was troubling him.

Charles grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, “I hope everything works itself out, can’t have my best teacher struggling.”

(Y/N) smiled gratefully at Charles’s blatant concern. He was their best friend and they knew he was merely concerned for them. Before they could respond with reassurance, however, Erik stepped into the classroom.

“Oh, sorry, I- sorry,” Erik ran his hand through his hair, “Can I ask,” He pointed from Charles to (Y/N) “are you… do you two- Anything happening here?”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed at the question, “anything like what?”

Charles snorted with laughter next to them. He waved his hand as if to apologize but the laughter bubbling from his lips made it hard to believe. “What?” (Y/N) frowned.

Charles dropped (Y/N)’s hand and huffed softly, “Nothing, darling. Erik, a word if you please?” Charles maneuvered his wheelchair outside of (Y/N)’s classroom.

(Y/N) watched as Erik walked out after Charles with a look of confusion. Was there something they weren’t getting?

_____________________________________________________________

Erik has had a rough couple of days. Before, Erik would usually brush off any inconvenience and continue with his day. But ever since he met (Y/N) it’s been a little more difficult to ignore the problem at hand. And that problem came in the form of one Charles Xavier. Erik knew someone as wonderful as (Y/N) had to be taken, but taken by Charles? Not that Charles wasn’t a good person, he was the best person Erik knew, he just really hated that of all people, (Y/N) was dating Charles; his best friend.

When Erik first met (Y/N) he knew there was something special about them, and not just because of their power. No, (Y/N) was the most caring, funny, and charming person he has ever had the pleasure of meeting. They always made sure to include Erik when he first arrived, and they made sure that he wasn’t feeling neglected. These small acts of kindness were enough to make Erik fall for them. But again, (Y/N) was with Charles.

At first, Erik thought he could ignore his feelings and simply brush them aside. But that was easier said than done. (Y/N) was always on his mind. Whenever he was in class, in the danger room, driving. There was no escaping (Y/N). So, Erik accepted his fate and became their friend; Only now he’d see Charles around more often, and he’d feel guilty for even fantasizing about (Y/N). Erik was living in hell.

The other day, Erik had the intention of telling Charles how he felt about (Y/N). When he walked into the living room, both (Y/N) and Charles were sat by the fireplace, talking and laughing. He realized he couldn’t get in the way of their relationship. He couldn’t leave again though, it didn’t sit well with him. Instead, Erik chose to avoid both Charles and (Y/N). Whenever he would see (Y/N), he’d turn the other way and pretend like they weren’t there. He altered his route so he wouldn’t run the risk of running into them. When he saw Charles, Erik would find a way out of the conversation and avoid him as well.

This had been going on for a week now. But even avoiding (Y/N) was like torture; he missed them. He wanted to see them smile when he said hello; he wanted to see them laugh when he told a joke. He missed them. So he went to find them. But when he did, they were with Charles. He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed. He had foolishly hoped to get some alone time with (Y/N).

It got to the point where Erik had finally asked if (Y/N) and Charles were in fact in a relationship; It sure seemed like it. He shifted nervously in place, avoiding Charles’s eyes. He wished he was using his helmet right now.

“Erik, tell me, do you like (Y/N)?” Charles asked casually.

“What would make you think that?” He mumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps it’s the disappearing act you seem to pull whenever we’re together or the fact that you haven’t spoken to me or them in days?” Charles raised his brows accusingly. He obviously wasn’t as in the dark as Erik had hoped.

“Maybe I just don’t like talking to you?” Erik shrugged.

Charles rolled his eyes, “Please if that were true I’d have known long ago.”

Erik ran his hand through his hair, “What if I did? There’s no chance for me, I know that. And I would never do anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

Charles smiled, “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but there is something you should know. (Y/N) and I aren’t together.”

Erik frowned, “Did you two break up?”

Charles chuckled, “No, you git, we were never together. We’re just friends. I promise. And if it helps, I’m pretty sure they like you too.”

“Really?” Erik grinned. It seemed he could only string together unintelligent answers now that he knew (Y/N) was single.

“Would I lie to you?” At Erik’s look, Charles rolled his eyes, “When it counts?”

“No, I suppose not,” Erik cleared his throat and finally met Charles’s eyes, “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I should talk to,” He pointed to (Y/N)’s classroom door behind him with his thumb.

“Definitely. I’d wish you luck, but I am positive this will go well for you both,” Charles winked and left Erik to talk to (Y/N).

Erik took a deep breath and re-entered the classroom.

(Y/N) looked up from fiddling with their fingers when he walked in. They smiled when they saw it was him. It was a pleasant surprise. They had expected Charles to come in. “Erik, it’s been a minute.”

Erik shrugged, “Yeah, I wanted to apologize for that. I uh, may I sit?” He motioned to the seat near their desk.

(Y/N) nodded seeming eager.

Erik pulled the chair closer to (Y/N) and took a seat. “First off, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I shouldn’t have been avoiding you.”

“So you were avoiding me?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yes, but not because I don’t like you,” Erik rushed when he noticed the disappointed look on their face, “I like you a lot actually. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.” (Y/N) crossed their arms over their chest, “You don’t avoid people you claim to like.”

“That’s a good point, but in my defense, I thought you were dating my best friend.” He drummed his fingers on his thighs, “I know it seems stupid now. I feel stupid, but it only seemed logical at the time.”

(Y/N) smiled and shifted closer to Erik so their knees were touching, “You were jealous of Charles?”

“I know, I know. I’m an idiot, but you had to see how close you two are,” Erik defended.

(Y/N) laughed but nodded in agreement, “Okay, I forgive you.” They took Erik’s fidgeting hands into their own, “And if it helps, I like you too.”

Erik beamed, “It does.”

“Good,” (Y/N) let go of one hand and laced their fingers together with the hand they still held, “Now, ask me on a date so we can stop being idiots.”

Erik laughed happily, “very well. (Y/N), would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Erik, this is so sudden,” (Y/N) teased.

Erik rolled his eyes fondly, “Yeah, only took me a couple of months to get the courage to ask you out.”

(Y/N) bit their lip, “I’d love to go out Erik.” They leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Erik’s cheek.

“It’s about damn time,” Charles’s voice echoed in both mutant’s minds.

#erik lehnsherr #magneto #x-men #erik lehnsherr x reader #magneto x reader #x-men x reader #reader is gender neutral #jealousy #misunderstandings #xmen #xmen x reader

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 3 years

Text

Touching | 8. shielding the other one with their body, Dick & Rachel - for @wonderbatwayne

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Safe Haven

Series: Physical Affection - Tumblr Prompts

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: "The answer is simple, Grayson. Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me. Now I'm taking what's yours."

2x07 AU

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

____________________________________________

Safe Haven

You really wanna be back here?

Dick tried to ignore his father's voice as he marched between the rows of wooden benches.

"Where is he?"

Deathstoke led him to this church - to the place where everything went down five years ago. But now it was empty.

Bruce showed up in front of him, blocking his way.

He's feeding on your guilt. Like a spider. He's lured you away from where you need to be… who you need to protect.

"He killed my friend," Dick argued. "Nearly killed Jason. He has to be stopped."

Very heroic of you. Except… you don't give a shit.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't know."

But I do, Bruce said as he walked up to him. I know everything. That's why you brought me. Just like I know why you keep sneaking off on these solo runs, just like you did five years ago. You have blood on your hands.

"Not just me."

But you have more, son. Blood only you and Slade know about. You're afraid of the dark. Always have been. Even as a little boy. The great chasm of silence. The coldness of isolation. You're afraid if the others know your secret they'll leave you and you'll be alone, again. And they may.

His heart sped up in his chest, his mind forgot how to breathe for a monent.

"They don't need to know," he said finally. "What difference does it make? It's done, it's in the past. It's behind me."

But it's not. It's got to come out.

"God damn it!" he shouted, feeling his nerves snapping. He was really getting tired of all this bullshit. "Can you leave me alone?"

You know how to get rid of me. You've known the whole time.

Tears started burning behind his eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Of course you do, son. You always have. You just have to tell the truth.

But he couldn't. It was too much. It would destroy him, destroy everything he had with his team.

"It's too hard." he whispered, dropping his head in shame. It was getting harder to keep tears at bay.

His father reached out and gently brushed his fingers down Dick's cheek. Even if he was only a prodcut of Dick's own fucked up mind the touch felt very real and it brought some sort of comfort to him.

His gaze then fell on the altar and he froze, noticing something he hadn't before. Bruce stepped out of his way when he moved and walked up the stairs to a heavy wooden table. Upon one look at the display it showed his blood ran cold.

At least a dozen pictures were scattered among lit candles and each one of them showed Rachel. Sitting on a couch with Gar, both laughing. Talking with Kory. Eating breakfast in the kitchen with Hank, Dawn and Donna around. He saw himself in those photos too - training with her in one, walking with her on the street in the other, with coffee cups in their hands and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. But in most of these pictures she was alone, usually somewhere around the Tower, in her bedroom or the kitchen and it was clear all the shots were taken without her or any of them knowing.

At the very centre of the table was a small black box.

With a shaking hand and a heart hammering in his chest Dick reached for it and slowly lifted the lid. On a white satin pillow meant to hold some kind of jewelry lay a lock of dark blue hair, coated in crimson blood.

Dick's knees almost gave out under him, sending him on the floor.

"No."

He left those for you, Bruce said behind him. He turned to his father for a moment, his face twisting in shock and confusion, but quickly came back to the display, hoping it disappeared when he wasn't looking. Because it couldn't be real, just like this Bruce wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But the pictures were still there, as well as the box and the candle flames were still burning.

Go home, Dick, his father's voice rang in his ears. It seems like one way or another, the monster's been in the Tower all along.

He couldn't take it anymore. The mix of fear, fury, worry, confusion and dozens of other conflicted emotions he couldn't name was about to explode, ripping him apart from within. He smashed his hand on the table sending all the pictures and candles flying, tossed it all on the floor in blinding rage and whipped around, ready to run out of the church. He needed to get back to the Tower, to find Rachel. Maybe this was all some kind of a sick joke, maybe Slade is bluffing, playing mind games on him to keep him on edge. Maybe it's all one big-

"Well, look who finally made it."

Dick stopped to a halt, his breath hitching in his throat. The front door to the church was open, revealing no other than Deathstroke standing in the door frame with his blade pressed to Rachel's neck. She was almost limp in his hold, barely awake but conscious enough to be standing on her feet. Her head was swaying dangerously like she's in a haze, the side of her face covered in blood oozing from a split on her temple.

"Dick…" she muttered, her voice weak and faint as a whisper in the wind carried out in the acoustics of the place and his heart jumped to his throat. He instinctively moved, wanting to rush to her but Slade stopped him, tightening his grip on her and pressing the blade harder to her skin. A drop of blood trickled down the shiny steel and Rachel instantly stilled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." the masked man said slowly, a clear warning in his deep voice.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. "What did you do to her?"

"Not much. Yet." he slowly tilted his head to the side. "I just gave her something to neutralize her powers. A small gift from this little group that eloquently calls themselves… The Organization?"

Dick felt his fists clenching so tight his knuckles must have turned white. He was trembling but unable to move. His eyes were locked on Rachel's pale face as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Questions were piling up under his skull, starting with how did this happen but there was no time for getting answers, first and foremost he needed to protect Rachel.

"I hope you enjoyed our little game." Slade continued, pushing Rachel onward so he could walk deeper into the church. She staggered on wobbly feet but he didn't let her fall. He wasn't gentle in holding her up either and hearing her grunt made Dick grit his teeth. "You must have had a nice ride around the city, following false leads and fake clues. Gave me enough time to get to this one while the others were busy jumping to each other's throats."

He risked one step forward, glaring at the face hidden behind the mask.

"What do you want from her?" he asked instead of giving Slade satisfaction by reacting to his words. "It's me you're after and I'm here. So let her go and let's get this over with. Rachel has nothing to do with this."

Slade let out a gurgling laugh and shook his head which only infuriated Dick more. His blade twitched in his hand and Rachel flinched, her face twisted in pain.

"Oh don't you see? She has everything to do with this." His masked face got uncomfortably close to Rachel's face and she turned her head away, cringing in fear and whimpering. Dick barely could hold himself back from lunging at Slade. "Poor kid. Snatched from the street, taken under the caring but broken wings of The Fallen Grayson just to be let down and end up dead. Funny how history loves to repeat itself but twists the ending at the last moment."

His arm gripped her tighter and Rachel's body tensed like a string that's about to snap. Her breath quickened and pupils widened up in terror. Their eyes met for the first time and Dick's heart broke seeing how scared she was, how she was silently begging him to save her.

"Rachel!"

"The answer is simple, Grayson." Slade hissed, fixing his grip on his sword and shifting the blade so the cold steel was now touching Rachel's cheek. "Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me." He moved the blade slowly, making a shallow cut on her face and Rachel whimpered in pain. "Now I'm taking what's yours."

And he pulled the sword down.

"DON'T!"

Slade stopped with the sword pressed to her carotid artery and looked at Dick who was aiming at him with the gun he was holding in his hand this whole time. His finger stilled on the trigger, grip so tight his knuckles bleached but his arm - no, his entire body - was shaking. His breath became shallow and rapid, heart trying desperately to break out of its cage.

"DON'T HURT HER!" he shouted and risked taking a few steps closer. He must have looked like a madman and he wouldn't be one bit surprised because that's exactly what he felt right now - madness. "Don't you fucking touch her or I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Deathstroke scoffed.

"We both know you're not gonna shoot." he said in a tone so light like they were discussing weather or something equally trivial.

Dick brought his other hand up to steady his grip on the weapon but in his current state it did him no good.

"Watch me."

"Are you willing to risk your precious little girl's life, like you did with Jericho? Or have you learned from your mistakes by now?"

"Don't listen to him, Dick!" Rachel suddenly spoke. Her voice was strong and she was staring at him with terrified but focused eyes. Dick let himself quietly sigh in relief. Whatever drug Slade had given her must be wearing off.

"Shut up." the assassin growled in her face, threatening her with his weapon again. She eyed the sword and gulped down hard but remained silent.

Dick took another step closer.

"Rach, look at me." he asked gently, for a moment not caring about how Slade might react. Risky move but he needed to talk to her. She did as he told her and their eyes met. "Listen, you're gonna be okay. I promise."

"Oh, isn't it adorable." Slade scoffed again, shaking his head. Dick was almost sure the man was rolling his eyes under that hideous mask. "I see you've learned nothing. Even after all this time you lie in their faces that they're gonna be safe with you. It's pathetic."

Neither of them were listening to his little tirade. While Slade was talking they were having their own silent conversation. Rachel held Dick's gaze to make sure she had his attention, then pointed her eyes at the elbow of the arm Slade was holding her with. Then her eyes went back to Dick and she mouthed one short word.

Shoot.

He shook his head, feeling a bile of fear forming in his throat. It was a huge risk. An inch to his right and the bullet could pierce Rachel's chest. All it takes is for Slade to move or Dick's arm to tremble. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if the bullet went the wrong way.

But her eyes were full of faith and confidence when she was looking at him. A small smile appeared on her lips. She knew he was hesitating because of her and tried to encourage him as well as she could without Slade noticing. He could read what she was trying to tell him in her face.

I know you won't hurt me.

He would never. He'd rather die the most painful death than be the reason a single hair falls off her head.

He pulled the trigger.

Deathstroke's armor clinked when the bullet made contact with his elbow. It didn't do any damage, but that wasn't the point. Slade cried out, more surprised than hurt because he didn't think Dick would actually fire that gun, but the impact made him release Rachel from his hold. She was still swaying on unsteady feet but she instantly lunged herself to the side, hiding between the rows of benches and getting out of the way.

Good girl.

In the meantime a fight broke out between two men. Dick charged at Slade, fueled by hot rage burning inside of him. He didn't have his Robin suit anymore or any of his gadgets but his body was a weapon in itself due to years of training and experience. He was throwing kicks and punches, dodging and turning and moving. Slade threw away his sword and sent him falling on his back with one strong kick to his chest, but despite the hit pushing all air out his lungs Dick managed to quickly jump back to his feet. They danced around each other like it's a choreography learned a long time ago and the moves are now coming back to them with clarity after years of not using them. Every move of the assassin was full of precision and technicality, cold, strong and perfectly aimed while Dick filled his every action with images of those he was fighting for. He thought of Garth falling to the ground with bullet in his chest while connecting his foot with Slade's jaw, sending his head to the side. He thought of Jason hanging on one hand from one of the tallest buildings in the city with terror in his wide eyes as he punched Slade in the diaphragm so hard the skin on his knuckles split and started bleeding. He thought of Jericho bleeding out on the floor of this church when he jumped on the benches and swiftly moved to find himself behind Slade's back. And he thought of Rachel, pale as ghost and terrified, with blood trickling down her face when he round kicked Slade in the back, sending him to his knees.

"So emotional." the man grunted and straightened up. He reached for his baton and with one push of a button turned it into a spear. "So… attached."

Dick roared like an angry lion and attacked again.

This time Deathstroke got the upper hand, pushing Dick back towards the altar. Blocking the spear wasn't easy without any weapon in his hand and soon he was covered with smaller and bigger cuts. He fell on his back at the stairs, hitting the back of his head so hard his sight became foggy but he still managed to use his legs to cut Slade from his feet. However, the man didn't lose his balance, only jumped out of the way and pushed his heavy boot to Dick's chest, then pressed the blunt end of the spear to his Adam's apple.

"You were right," Deathstroke breathed out, turning the spear around. Dick heard his voice as if coming from underwater. His mask was a blur of color. "Let's get this over with." Then he raised his arm and stabbed.

But the blade never made it to Dick's chest.

First he saw a shadow looming over him and when his sight cleared he recognized the head of blue curly hair. He lifted himself on his elbows watching in horror while his heart screamed in agony.

No. Not again.

Please, not again.

Rachel pushed herself between him and Slade and shielded him with her own body, just like Jericho did five years ago.

She slowly looked down at the blade sticking out from her chest before Deathstroke harshly pulled it out. Her hands covered the wound, her fingers instantly turning red and then she swayed, about to fall down.

"Rachel, no!" Dick cried out and caught her, laying her down on his chest. A sob wrecked his body when he saw the waterfall of blood coating the front of her black sweater, making the warm wool stick to her body. He pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding while she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and he felt tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh God, Rachel. What did you do?"

"I had to- s-save you-" she choked out, a drop of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it tight. "I cou-couldn't let you- d-die."

In the meantime Slade stepped back and hid his weapon. He was watching the scene in front of him unfold, still as a statue.

"Now you know how it feels," he said, aiming his words at Dick, who lifted his tear-stained face to glare at the man, "to have your own child bleeding out in your arms. Death would've been a mercy for you, Grayson. This… this is a lesson you will never forget."

"I will fucking kill you." Dick snarled at him, gritting his teeth. "I'm gonna hunt you down, you hear me?!"

Deathstoke chuckled and turned his back to him.

"Good luck with that." he threw over his shoulder then headed out of the church, leaving the other two alone.

Dick made some sort of a sound. A noise that he himself couldn't even describe. It sounded as if something had brutally ripped his chest open and tore out of it. He roared like an animal, venting his despair and anger.

"Dick..." a soft whisper pierced through to his consciousness, drawing his attention. "It's okay."

Another sob shook his body.

"Rachel… Rachel, my Rachel." he whispered, hugging her and frantically brushing the hair wet with blood and sweat away from her pale face.

So much blood. He was completely covered in it now, it soaked through his clothes and bit into his skin.

"It's not okay." he shook his head. "I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around."

She managed to smile at him.

"We're supposed to… save each other… remember?"

"Not like this." he said, his voice breaking. "Never like this."

She squeezed his hand again. Their fingers, slick from her blood, entwined together tightly.

"You were my… save haven."

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Then the meaning behind her words hit him like a speeding train and he held her tighter.

"No. Don't say that." he ordered desperately. "This is not a goodbye, you hear me? You're not going anywhere."

"Dick-"

"No! Help me." he croaked, pressing their clasped hands against her bleeding heart. "Use your powers. Take my energy, absorb it."

She coughed, spitting blood. They were running out of time.

"I can't- h-heal myself."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

But she didn't seem to hear him. Her eyelids closed slowly and her head fell on his arm.

"Rachel?" Dick's voice grew louder, breaking and rising like waves away at sea. "Rachel, my baby, please, honey, open your eyes, it's me, Dick, I'm here with you, I'll always be here, please, please…"

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, letting out a painful cry. He howled like a wolf, his shoulders trembling, heavy tears splashing on her round cheeks. It was his fault. All of it was his fault. A part if him knew it would end like this the monent he met her. But his love was too strong and he ignored the warning. Now she was paying the price.

"Don't go, Rach." he begged, his voice shattered. "Don't leave me alone in a world without you in it."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand with such force that he felt her knuckles grinding in his grip.

Rachel, please come back. We can do this. You saved my life in more ways than you can imagine. Nothing is impossible for us. I love you, okay? I love you and please come back to me.

He reached deep into his memories. Rachel at the police station in Detroit looks up and stares at him as if she saw a ghost; Rachel, curled up in the bathtub of that crappy motel, surrounded by scraps of paper with crosses drawn on it, throws herself into his arms crying; Rachel leans over him in the asylum and reminds him of his promise to never to leave her; Rachel comes out of the fog with her head held high proudly after defeating Trigon; her smile and eyes wide open when she saw the inside of the Tower for the first time. And many, many other memories he will cherish for the rest of his life.

Heal, he begged because there was nothing else left to do. Take my life, take it all. Heal.

Something changed. Rachel's hand in his hold started getting warmer. He lifted his head slightly, blinking away tears and gasped at the sight of a bright purple glow seeping through his fingers. He watched in complete awe as the wound on her chest slowly started closing until there was nothing left beside a thin pink line that was already fading as well. The color came back to her face and she took a gulp of air, almost choking on it. Then she sat up, her eyes opened wide and she pressed her hands to her chest but to no use because there was nothing there, only drying blood on her clothes. She looked down at herself then back at him.

"How?"

He smiled at her and scooted closer.

"I told you you can heal yourself."

Her brows furrowed in confusion but then understanding flooded her face and she smiled back.

"It wasn't just me… it was you, Dick. You willed me back to life and… and my powers listened." she grabbed his hands in hers. "I didn't heal myself, you healed me."

Still holding her other hand he reached out to cup her face. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"All I knew was that I couldn't lose my safe haven." he whispered softly and that's all it took for her to fall into his arms.

She clung to his shirt, buried her face in the curve of his neck and started sobbing. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her on his lap and started rocking her gently. He loved how warm and familiar she felt in his hold, how solid and safe she was. He pressed a loving, desperate kiss on the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"I love you so much." he mumbled into her skin. Rachel shivered and hugged him tighter.

"I love you, too."

Dick leaned away and took her face in his hands, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Let's get outta here, huh? We need to get you cleaned up."

She glanced at the blood on her clothes, then moved her gaze to his own bloody shirt and jacket.

"You don't look exactly better, you know?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, thanking God she was still here.

"Yeah, it was my favorite jacket. Now I have to burn it." they both laughed, happy to relax and lighten up, but looking at her face made him worried again. "You sure you're okay?"

Instead of answering Rachel stood up on her own and reached a hand out to him.

"Definitely."

He took it gratefully and got up to his feet, then immediately pulled her closer, crushing her to him.

"I am never letting you go again." he said, his voice hoarse and heavy from emotion.

Rachel melted into him and took a deep breath.

"Please, don't."

Over her head he noticed Bruce standing by the church's door. His father smiled proudly at him and nodded, then slowly turned around and walked out, disappearing in the light of day.

#dc titans #titans #titans season 1 #titans season 2 #titans season 3 #dcu titans #dick grayson #rachel roth #slade wilson #deathstroke

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

Heaven And Hell

I have finally caught up with the prompt list! Thank you to @connor-sent-by-cyberlife for the lovely list. It is not only a nice experiment but it is helping to motivate me to write, which I appreciate.

Pairings: HankCon / Hannor / Hank X Connor

Warnings: - Swearing - Graphic Violence and Gore - Implied Rape and Referenced Murder - Slightly NSFW - Implied Sexual Interests - Existential Questions - Hurt and Comfort

Words: 3368

Enjoy!

Connor was still young. Bright-eyed, by the book, and completely innocent despite his research into humans and the Earth’s violent and erratic history.

Being that it was his first mission to Earth, his superiors had been worried to send such a young angel to the planet below. His job had been, put simply, to walk among humans and learn from his experiences. Adapt to their atmosphere and climate, and whilst present, deal out the necessary punishment to the beasts that walked alongside them. As a new breed, Connor was created to find and destroy.

And they had not been hard to find.

Executing them for their evil whilst being subtle, however, was another matter entirely.

In order to achieve it, he had combed through the vast knowledge he had learnt over centuries of study. A vast mind vault within him, stacked high with books and parchment, informed him that the best path he might take would be to gain a career as a police detective or ‘cop’.

In such a position, he would be more likely trusted by civilians, allowed to carry weaponry he could modify to destroy demons and fallen angels alike, and he would have the means to track them without strain on his own power. He had to build up to it first, of course.

The police academy, where he excelled at all of his classes, took only a short amount of time to him; a mere couple of years. His superiors, though proud of his work, told him to slow it down. Take hits and failures every now and again, where necessary, to make it appear he was just as fallible as the average human. Even when he had graduated from the academy, he was top of his class by a mile.

He had been immediately placed into the Detroit Police Department, and had been near delighted by his success. Well, as delighted as an angel was allowed to be. Too many human emotions were enough to cause an angel to fail and fall. Ones of his kind were able to fall into the throes of passion so easily, due to their physical inexperience, that it was often in a murderous rage or in the heat of sexual intimacy that the worst acts were committed. It doomed an angel to fall.

Connor was certain such things would not affect him. After all, he was the best of the best; made to be more and above the other angels. Not that he wished to gloat, or be overly prideful, but he was better.

And then he had entered into the precinct for the first time.

There was the stink of human sweat and he could practically taste the sugar and coffee in the air, but there was the smell of smoke and the near taste of fire to accompany them that had Connor reeling. He restrained himself from immediately hurling himself forward and into the throes of battle, rolling his shoulders as if to shrug off the weight of sin in the precinct.

There was a devil among them, and it wasn’t hard to work out which of his new colleagues it was.

Captain Fowler had introduced him to his experienced partner, lieutenant Hank Anderson, whom he was supposed to follow and learn from. Connor had to grit his teeth so as not to roar at the other. The humans were blinder than Connor had initially thought. They would let a devil into their midst, one that would see them fall to doom and destruction.

He fought back the scowl, replacing it instead with a kinder smile, offering the devil his hand. When their palms connected, there was a deep burn that seared through his skin.

‘It is nice to be working with you, lieutenant.’

‘It won’t be, I can assure you.’ The urge to let his wings loose and drive the devil through the wall grew, but he kept his smile up. This was going to be harder than he thought.

~X~

Hank had been created from blood and brimstone. He was born to a world of darkness, the lick of hot flames and the sting of teeth and steel against his flesh. For centuries, he had grown and festered like the plague on humanity he had been made to be.

His dark wings became a shield from the worst pain, and his teeth helped to defend him and tear out the throats of other devils that tried to hurt him. Survival was learnt from an early age, and when he was finally able to crawl free of the pit, he was greeted with the warmth of sunlight and the feeling of Spring dew.

He had to learn fast, so that he might survive and not return to Hell itself.

He studied parchments, scrolls and tablets from the dawn of human time, had followed human history and learnt the best and worst of it all. He had learned quickly how best to disguise himself from most angels, and had nearly died numerous times throughout history.

Through it all though, Hank had grown and aged. He became harder to find, harder to kill, and he had come to recognise humans as less the worms that he had heard through shouts and tortured whispers. Instead, he came to recognise them as an intelligent species, who often made stupid decisions. Mistakes or choices that sent them to an early grave or simply added up until they were being ripped from the planet and pulled down.

Down below.

He had many jobs throughout history, had many backstories and different histories to suit his needs. His most recent character was that of a police lieutenant, where it was he that dished out punishment, not just on horrible human beings, but the occasional devil, demon or fallen angel that caused trouble.

He had come to realise that long ago, humans were too often dragged to Hell for something that could be forgiven or looked over. The seven deadly sins may have been something ‘damning’, but they could be explored without being taken to the extreme like angels seemed to believe. In fact, in Hank’s mind, it was simply Heaven that was refusing to forgive, as was their (quote, unquote) ‘policy’.

It had been a surprise to Hank when his newest partner turned out to be an angel. Not only that, but one that could immediately see through his disguise despite the centuries he had to perfect it. He never gave the game away, but the two of them had been forced to work side by side. It would have been comical, if Hank wasn’t constantly feeling the burn of ‘righteous fury’ whenever they were within close proximity.

He had spoken with Connor, had even apologised for his rather rude introduction, but the angel had refuted his words. It was clear to him that Connor was just one of many angels that would never learn, the naïve little pricks that they were. Heaven did a brilliant job of brainwashing those that left it, and Hank was unsurprised Connor seemed furious, in some cases fearful, to be around Hank for any extended time.

Though, there was one thing that shook their relationship.

It was a case, one of a particularly brutal serial killer. As they were the investigators for the case, they allowed themselves more freedom in the crime scene once given space from other officers. When alone, Hank let his human visage drop a bit, to reveal the scarred features he held, two strong horns and a pair of white, bony, bat-like wings. When Connor had noticed his transformation, the other had released his own mirage, revealing dark, feathered wings and a neon blue halo above his head.

‘No need to get pissy. We’re alone here.’ Hank huffed, and though the angel didn’t relax, he didn’t attack. Hank allowed him to use his powers to help with the investigation, the little angel practically spitting out the blood when he tasted it. Hank already smelled that it had been a devil’s blood, but he smirked at the adorable face the angel had pulled when he found it disgusting.

They returned to their human forms before another officer would show up, and through it all, Hank had noticed how Connor’s eyes kept diverting to him. Gazing at him not in anger or disgust, but curiosity, and perhaps an interest that made Hank’s spine perform a delicious tingle.

He could work with this.

~X~

A few months into their work together, they had started investigating a serial killer. Connor had done well to keep the devil away from him, though it had been easier than he initially thought. The devil seemed to pay little mind in attempting to tempt him into the worst kinds of sin, and to Connor’s surprise, actively assisted in the investigations. He didn’t attempt to get the wrong humans killed or framed for their actions, and helped to track down the murderers or rapists or whatever else as quickly as possible.

Without revealing themselves, of course.

When the other had dropped his human guise at the crime scene, Connor had been prepared to rip his head off, but when the other spoke so softly, despite his gruff demeanour, Connor had agreed to keep the peace. But he was confused, and more than a little curious in the other.

He didn’t know what it was that he was experiencing, as he had little knowledge of what a human or an angel could feel. He had never experienced emotions in this way, but he became curious about his partner. He was curious if those wings were as sensitive as his own, whether his gruff behaviour was from boredom, or if he genuinely didn’t want to fight. He didn’t understand this enigma.

During their investigation into the serial killer, it was at the third crime scene that Connor had taken note that not only did the place stink of his usual, devilish partner, but that the smell had intensified. As if doubled.

Connor had been too slow to connect the dots, and had been ambushed by the devil. He was tackled to the floor, feeling the figure thrust their knee deep into his back, pushing against his spine. It hurt. Connor whined, a sound he didn’t know he could make, but the devil had just laughed above him. Lips leaned down and a forked tongue swept over his cheek, tasting him. Connor fought back, but from his position, he couldn’t grab his gun nor his sword. He was trapped.

There were footsteps, and then Hank was in front of them both. Silver hair which had helped to curtain his eyes, was pulled back, revealing similar silver eyes. They looked down at Connor with some kind of gaze that he didn’t recognise. Then they turned to fury as they rose to meet the eyes of the devil.

‘If you want a piece of angel flesh, you’ll have to wait your turn.’ There was a tightening on Connor’s limbs, a burning sensation scarring his wrists. Connor twisted, feeling the grip change to grab a head full of hair and lift his head up at an uncomfortable angle. When that tongue came out to taste him again, the weight was released with one quick movement.

Connor could breathe, and he had turned to see Hank without his guise. The two devils were in a tangle of violent clawing and limbs, wings sprouted and teeth bared. There was a loud ‘SNAP!’ as something was broken, and the killer shrieked. Connor leapt into action then, pulling out his gun. He raised it, and stopped.

He trained it on the two of them, and through the burn of his halo, the voices of his superiors and guardians urged him to end it. He had both of them in his sights. He could do it. He could shoot and kill them both.

There was a gunshot, and Hank peeled back as there was an explosion of red. The head of the devil had a hole clean through the skull, through the back and between the eyes. It left an alcove in the back of its head, brain matter and blood bursting into a bright confetti of colour. And beyond that, Hank was greeted with the sight of Connor kneeling on the floor.

The gun had not lowered.

Hank knew it was over. He could practically see Connor’s guise dropping, the wings unfurling and the halo gleaming as he was close to accomplishing his mission. Connor’s eyes flicked back and forth, his hands around the gun trembling. Suddenly, the gun dropped, along with Connor.

There was a cry from the angel, a terrible, pained sound as he clutched at his head. The halo burned through his hair and deep into his flesh. Hank was to his side in a moment, bringing him into his lap as the halo withered away to nothing. His wings shook, feathers beginning to moult and though his wings seemed to have shifted a shade darker, they remained their beautiful, glossy colour.

By the time it was over, Connor had been rendered unconscious, his wings shrinking back into his human guise, but he was missing the heated glow that would arc above his head. As Hank’s own body returned to its original form, he held the other close, and even carried him to the ambulance outside, after he called it.

It was shock, according to the paramedics, with some bruising from the damage dealt by the now deceased criminal. He would be out of the hospital in no time, less so since he would still be healing at an angel’s rate.

He met Connor outside the hospital, and instead of driving the both of them back to the precinct, Hank had taken the quiet fallen angel to an empty bridge where Hank had found it easiest to think. Few people came there anymore, the playground abandoned and the stink of the river causing people to feel far too uncomfortable to approach. It was the perfect place.

‘What are we doing here, lieutenant?’ His voice quaked, and wide, doe-brown eyes looked up at Hank with the most fearful expression Hank had seen the angel wear. It was more afraid than when he had been attacked by the devil in the first place.

‘I think, you being downgraded to a fallen angel, has earned you the right to just call me Hank.’ He half joked. It didn’t help the angel’s shaking. ‘Come on. I just want to talk.’

He stepped out of the car, and over to a park bench that looked out over the river. He waited a few short minutes before he heard the car door slam and Connor’s approach, taking a seat beside him.

‘Why did you come out all this way to eat me?’

Hank turned a confused gaze down at Connor, eyes to the hairline with shock. Now, that he had not been expecting.

‘Uh… I don’t want to eat you.’

‘The devil said you would have to wait for angel flesh. You have looked at me in a similar way before, so I am pretty certain your intention is to eat me. Especially since I can’t burn you anymore an-’

There was a guffaw of laughter from Hank, and Connor felt his cheeks flush a great pink. He had never been able to blush before, and he felt more embarrassed and more shame when he realised he was exhibiting such human behaviour.

‘Tha… That isn’t what the little creep meant.’ Hank assured him, arm around Connor and bringing him close. Despite Connor’s immediate panic, he didn’t struggle when Hank pulled him into the half hug. He felt Hank’s warmth, and how it didn’t burn like when they first met. Instead it was a soothing sensation that heated his skin and the smell of brimstone had been clouded with the smell of sugar, the slightest taint of alcohol and something stronger.

‘T-Then… what are we doing out here?’

‘I just wanted to talk.’ It was a slight lie, but despite Hank’s growing interest in the tiny angel, Hank wasn’t like the devil serial killer. He wasn’t one to take that shit by force. Hank may have been a devil, but he had grown to become more than that, in his mind. ‘I just wanted to say, I’m sorry.’ Connor’s gaze was confused and disbelieving. ‘No, I mean it. I’m sorry you lost your grace. And for me of all people.’

‘It wasn’t for you.’

‘Then why didn’t you shoot?’ Connor’s lips were sealed, and he had turned away from Hank, that shameful flush giving him away.

‘Believe it or not, Connor, being so close to humans isn’t so bad.’

‘Of course you would say that. Just trying to rub it in that I have been released from Heaven?’

‘See, you say that like being released from Heaven is a bad thing.’ Hank hummed, turning his head and pulling Connor closer. He could practically hear the fallen angel’s heart racing and the slightest chatter of teeth in the cool night air. ‘But, think about it; Heaven had such control over you, in the end, your own decisions were considered enough to have you banished?’

‘I…’ Connor shouldn’t be listening to this. He shouldn’t! ‘I was placed here on Earth to hunt your kind, to protect the humans from sin.’

‘But see, you can’t protect humans from sin.’ Hank said in response. Connor tilted his head, like a little, lost puppy. ‘Humans cannot be saved from sin, in fact, it is in their nature to sin. And the small things should always have the option to be forgiven, and yet, Hell is being piled high with more and more souls each year.’

‘You’re just saying that…’

‘I’m not. Think about it, Connor. Is it so wrong to indulge? Certain things are out of line, of course, but is violence, when necessary, a bad thing? Is lying? Is sex really as sinful as Heaven taught you?’ Connor turned his head away, gaze pointedly to the pavement.

‘I… I don’t know…’

‘And that is the thing about human nature; no one really knows what is too far. Sometimes, someone deserves the worst that happens to them, but then there are those that are judged too harshly for something so insignificant. And they are humans, with lifespans shorter than ours by whole millenniums. They should be allowed to live as they choose without us dictating how they behave.’

Connor didn’t seem sure how to react to such information. He felt Hank’s guise drop and let his own drop as well. When he met Hank’s eyes, he hid his gaze, shameful of his appearance. Instead, he felt Hank raise on of his hands, and thin, soft lips against the crook of his knuckles; a gentle tease of fangs against the skin of his hand. Wide eyes turned up to Hank, and even though there was something lustful there, Hank did not proceed any further.

‘You are beautiful, Connor. I don’t know if Heaven made you that way, or if this was your own design, but it was a good choice.’ The pink to Connor’s cheeks burned. He withdrew his hand, and Hank didn’t press further. The devil simply chuckled a gruff sound from deep within his chest.

‘Don’t worry, Connor. I may be evil, but I am not going to do anything to you that you wouldn’t want me to. I just wanted to indulge myself a little.’ Connor bit his lip, kneading his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘I… I d-don’t mind…’ Hank raised an eyebrow down at him. ‘I just… I’m not sure it is appropriate.’

‘In Heaven and Hell’s eyes, it never will be. But here, on Earth, things can be different. Connor…’ There was a quiet sound from Connor, and Hank felt his body burn and his spine quiver. ‘I… If you want, we can be friends.’

Connor leaned into Hank’s arms, resting his head in the crook of Hank’s throat. Hank’s hands passed over one wing that twitched, and then relaxed beneath his touch. There was a hum from Connor, a sound so content and just a little bit nervous.

‘I… I would like that…’

#dbhlightandshadow #Detroit: Become Human #DBH #Hank Anderson #RK800 Connor #RK800 #HankCon #Hannor #Hank X Connor #NSFW?#Fanfic #Fanfiction #HarcourtHolmesII

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ifeveristoday · 3 years

Text

I got out my DVDs for this rewatch (that’s not actually a big deal. I only have season 3 on DVD. 😂) so let’s get to it.

I forgot they did a cold open for this episode!

I know it’s for ambiance but man does Angel have a lot of candles displayed. Probably too ‘mainstream’ for his taste but the thought of Angel furtively going to a Bath and Bodyworks in the mall during their semi-annual sale and just buying out their whole candle selection gives me the purest joy. Let’s be real though, Angel would shop at some boutique/hole in the wall owned by a wizened old character with a twinkle in their eye and everything marked up 20%. Or it would be a steel and glass monstrosity with a collection labeled Candles for Men. That’s the range.

Back to the enormous fire hazard that this scene is -

Wait. Does fire burn on stone?

Shout out to the stunt doubles.

I think that Angel getting food for Buffy for a sort of alfresco picnic while training is really sweet, actually. Also, can't miss the opportunity for both carbs and phallic symbolism ala bread.

Everyone is so embarrassingly horny in this moment. I'd say get a room except they're in a whole giant mansion.

Always remember the bread! What did Angel do with the food after Buffy fled? Fed the no-doubt cursed pigeons that live in Sunnydale.

Thanks for the workout (insert stereotypical dirty laugh).

Oh yes, the awkward 'let's talk about your birthday without mentioning the last birthday you had at all because it's horrifying' chitchat. God, the anxiety Angel is radiating here and Buffy trying to smooth it over. You can't unfrost that trauma cake!

Angel, you utter dork. You're lucky Buffy finds you pretty. Very powerful himbo energy here. And it's nice to see some light-hearted flirting/banter between them.

How do you know when someone's aura's dirty? Buffy is only asking the reasonable questions everyone has.

Do you hear yourself, Giles. "I'm aware of your distaste in studying vibratory stones..." I can't imagine what that section of the Slayer handbook looks like. Are there pull-out charts?

Faith being conveniently gone for this episode. Boo, hiss.

That workout really did a number on Buffy. I see what you're doing with those crystals.

One of the sad parts of rewatching Buffy is that you just don't have the first time discovery feels of watching it - that magic is gone, but even though I know why Buffy's wobbling in her fight, the reveal is still upsetting. Thinking about how in Season 5, when she does get staked, just as she's questioning her powers - and here, where she's losing them.

Also, obvious observation is obvious - the sexual violence imagery is really, really blatant here - with the vampire crouched over her with the stake aimed toward her heart, just as she playfully staked Angel earlier in a more romantically set scene.

AND THEN THE THEME KICKS IN. Like, damn! Three minutes and you can pretty much tell what the plot is going to be - Buffy and Angel's UST is getting out of hand, Buffy's lone Rangering it, and something is wrong with her. And it's her birthday.

And Buffy's resourcefulness saves the day.

Perhaps you shouldn't be throwing knives in the library, Buffy.

Did they do a geography lesson on Cuernavaca? It's also just fun to say. Like La Cienega. Brief moment to ponder yet again about a show set in Southern California, actually shot in Southern California, with the huge Latine population we have and the Spanish-influenced names and culture and - getting sidetracked by all this casual 90s racism.

"We do it every year for my birthday," except your seventeenth, presumably because of the murderous ex-boyfriend stalking the town you live in and all your loved ones. [Or, he did take her and it was not shown on screen!] Sometimes I wonder if the continuity editors just go, you know, I'm going to let this one go for the 'emotion' and not just so years later, a Virgo with a deep-seated need to obsess over throwaway details will go into a thought spiral to make it make sense.

I think this is also the last time Hank Summers was spoken of with any real affection because then he was Deadbeat Dad for the remainder of the show. Oh, look. The Scoobies are surprised about the traditional birthday ice show that I'm going to nitpick about forever.

Oz is so supportive, and then the clunker of a 'deep' line of ice being cool because it's water then it's not. I do like the Whedonesque school of dialogue, but sometimes you gotta reel it back. I remember the dialogue on Dawson's Creek was getting pinged for the teenagers talking like grad students.

Quiet reflection. Oh you poor girl, you have no idea.

Quarterly projections - is a convincing filler phrase for when you don't need to know what the job is, because it's boring but sounds vaguely official. What does Hank actually do? Who cares! He's an asshole.

Sunnydale Arms, because of course, Sunnydale has a broken down abandoned murder hotel.

Quentin Travers. Boo. Hiss.

The scary music is very scary. Also one of the Council flunkies looks like a very young Vincent D'Onofrio.

This scene with them in the library is so bittersweet because Buffy is fishing for Giles's attention as a father figure substitute ("very sophisticated people go!" breaks my heart) and he pointedly is rejecting this for training talk.

Look for the flaw at its center. THE FLAW IS YOU GILES. YOU YOU YOU.

it's just so terrible, this scene because of how methodical and clinical it plays out. And Buffy is just not there, and then Giles smiles like nothing has happened.

Buffy makes it through another night - next day (another reason why this trial is so horrifying is that it takes place over several days - it's not on Buffy's birthday but leading up to it, so the idea of her getting weaker and weaker and unable to fight to make it to 18 in the first place) and it's time for the Cordelia has had enough of toxic masculinity scene!

Also, Willow blithely ignoring a person's feelings and treating Amy as just a rat is played for laughs and cuteness, but yeah...you can't treat people like puppets or rats [law and order sound]

I love Cordelia's coat. And also, while it does suck that she stood him up, he's not entitled to her time or attention and certainly not to threaten her. Go, Cordy! Fight like a girl! Yes! Pummel him into the hallway.

I also love Willow's outfit here because I think the colors are so complementary and warm and it's a cute outfit. Okay, the knit wooly hat is a bit too Blossom-esque, but whatever.

Buffy is tiny, we all know this, but I do think they purposefully dressed her in larger than her size coats in this episode to make her look even more tiny and vulnerable.

Giles is TOO BLASE for this scene also shut your mouth about throwing knives like a girl

"It's an archaic exercise in cruelty." SO WHY DID YOU GO ALONG WITH IT, BRAIN TRUST. (I am going to be very mean to Giles this whole rewatch, deal with it.)

"But I'm the one in the thick of it." No, you're not. You are going to be adjacent to it, at best.

Hey it's that guy!

Okay, in better lighting, flunkie does not look like Vincent D'Onofrio.

It's impossible to pin down one type of Vampire in the Whedonverse, except for the delineation between Grunt Bait Vampires, and Special Guest Star/Master vampires, but Kralik is the only other example of a vampire with mental illness besides Drusilla, yet he's medicated. Makes me wonder how exactly they got Kralik...he was a monster before he was a vampire, but who vamped him? I don't put it past the Watchers to have vampires created for this purpose.

Curse against lawyers!

Xander and Oz bonding over comic books is so fun. I regret they didn't really get closer until after Xander and Willow cheated because Oz was the one male friend Xander had.

They mentioned her birthday! Thinking about Buffy's love of poetry later on, this is a nice little detail, and it *is* a thoughtful, sweet gift. Also those poems: horny. Oh yes, maybe in a restrained way, but Elizabeth Barrett Browning knew what was up.

The Buffy and Angel relationship in season three is full of these starts and stops that I can see why and agree with others about how it's frustrating on a number of levels. They know why they can't be together, but they still try to find a common ground because they want to need the other one. They still have their identities to figure out - Buffy as the slayer and a young adult, Angel as a person, separate from Buffy and being Buffy's ex sort of maybe.

But this conversation in Helpless is genuinely sweet and a glimpse at what a normal couple at the crossroads would talk about - I think I'm also being soft on this because the other Important Male Figure in Buffy's life in this episode lets her down so spectacularly bad, that Angel being supportive and kind in his awkward way is a nice respite. It's good to be away from the angst and the horror that their relationship has had.

And the self-aware puncturing of the Moment between them is something Buffy does very well. "Taken literally, incredibly gross - I was just thinking that too". Look, it's cute and soft and I will allow it.

The horror of this episode (and there are so many) is that we have to watch Buffy become the helpless blonde in a slasher flick who is being chased by the monsters and she can't do anything about it - that she has to be rescued or die. That the real world with men catcalling and bystanders who ignore women's cries of distress is far scarier than the literal demons that inhabit the town - and Buffy brokenly saying she can't just be a person, she can't be helpless like that [like women are, still, today] is a gut punch. It's uncomfortable and unhappy because Buffy is supposed to be the hero, the [sigh] strong female lead who can kick ass and take names, and this episode is all about finding who Buffy is, separate from her super powers. Also an exercise in emotional torture, but must be Tuesday.

The physicality - the weakness that both Buffy and Giles display in this scene is so, so good. The way Buffy's hand trembles toward the needle in the case and the dawning realization of what Giles has done, has chosen to do - and he bloodlessly tells her what the Cruciamentum is.

Her tiny little "Liar."

GOD WHY DIDN'T SHE GET AN EMMY (rhetorical we all know genre tv only matters if it was Game of Rapey Thrones)

"You will be safe now, I promise you." LIAR.

Another puncturing a heavy moment - Cordelia as cavalry - I love it. Cordelia taking the most obvious approach to the situation - 'oh Buffy might have lost her memory, well he's Giles,'

I can't believe they robbed us of a conversation in the car scene with Cordy and Buffy.

Kralik had to have found a polaroid camera and a metallic sharpie for this whole scenario -- OH I KNOW WHO HE REMINDS ME OF. The Night Stalker and any number of serial killers that terrorized SoCal. Is the show being self-aware of the problem with mothers and parents in general?

Probably a glib accident.

I don't have much to say about the part where Buffy hunts Kralik because it's so masterfully done with the atmosphere and music.

Nice of Giles's backbone to enter the chat now.

This is not business. Ooo.

Buffy's "I thought I killed a man" emo overalls!

Like it's shadowy, but there's still enough light to see facial expressions. Lighting guy, I salute you.

Little red riding hood metaphor. Oh, that's so her stunt double.

CREEPY SEXUAL VIOLENCE REARS ITS DEFORMED HEAD AGAIN

Jump stair scare. I remember the first time I saw it, I jolted in the living room.

Serial Killer Shit. Why are vampires such drama queens?

THAT'S RIGHT, BUFFY DID THAT

The ending scene in the library is cathartic in that Buffy gets to stand up for herself finally, and recognizes what Giles gives up by helping her, delayed as it was, also there's the feeling of hate punching Quentin Travers via your eyes.

Still don't think she should have forgiven Giles so easily, but we don't get to see a lot of aftercare for Buffy when she gets hurt, and it is a very tender scene.

The Scoobies are being way too upbeat if they knew about the fact that Giles poisoned Buffy, which is why I'm assuming she told a very abbreviated version of events ending with Buffy killed the bad guy and Giles got fired, oops.

Xander's big strong man comment and then looking immediately to Willow to open the jar and not Oz...

I could watch this episode again with episode commentary from David Fury, but another day.

#a bit later #but here it is #saff rewatches buffy

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kimistorm · 3 years

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X-Men First Class: Reader Insert || Part 6 || Darwin

Once again you and the rest of the mutants were sitting in a room in the CIA base. Much like the one you were previously in, but this one had a window. You silently sulked in one of the couches, apparently you weren’t allowed to wander around the base, so you were asked, cough ordered, to stay in the room.

“I didn’t know the circus was in town.” You were broken out of your sulking when someone outside broke the silence.

“Hey, come on, honey.” The other man looked at Angel, “give us a little…” he motioned towards flapping with her wings. You were too tired to mess with their emotions to make them leave, fortunately, Hank had it under control. “No? Come on, Big Foot, let’s go.” Hank sighed and flipped the switch to close the blinds.

“They’re just guys being stupid.” Raven soothed to Angel.

Angel looked up to Raven, “guys being stupid, I can handle. Okay? I’ve handled that my whole life.” You glanced at Angel and sent her some reassuring emotions, “but I’d rather a bunch of guys stare at me with my clothes off than the way these ones stare at me.”

“At us.” Raven corrected. You all nodded and looked down in shame. Having these powers was cool and all, but it came at a cost, and it didn’t seem like any of you were prepared to pay said cost.

There was a crash and the somber atmosphere was immediately replaced with a tense atmosphere. “What was that?”

“Something doesn’t feel right.” You sent your reach outside of the walls of your room and physically recoiled from shock.

“What is it (y/n)?” Raven noticed your flinch.

“There’s an attack outside.” You whispered, “they’re attacking the base!” you ran to open the blinds and froze when you saw the red man disappearing and reappearing, causing guards to fall from the sky.

“Nope!” Hank declared as he shut the blinds.

You snapped yourself out of your reverie and just barely managed to make eye contact before the blinds shut. It was enough for you, you let yourself fall to the floor as you exchanged emotions with the red man. You traded his anger for your calmness. ‘You don’t want to kill them, you just want to stun them.’ You didn’t have telepathy like Charles, so it’s not that he actually heard what you said, but he could feel it with your emotions. You could faintly hear in the background someone shouting at you to get away from the window, but you were too engrossed in your work to even care. You kept up the constant exchange of you taking his fury while feeding your own calm emotions into him, you couldn’t see out of his eyes, but you had a feeling it was working, because there no longer was a constant barrage of death.

Someone grabbing your body snapped you out of your reverie. Alex had grabbed you away from the wall as the wall on the other side crumbled. The glass you were in front of shattered only a moment after you and Alex were out of the way. The entire gang was huddled against one wall of the room. On your right, a man with tornado powers was steadily advancing, on the left, the red man stepped into the room through the window.

There was a banging on the door in front of you, “you want the mutants? They’re right through that door. Just let us normal people go. We’re no threat.” You felt tears prickle at your eyes, they were selling out you and your friends to save their life. You didn’t blame them, but it still hurt.

The door burst down and a third man walked into the room. You quickly glanced at the three intruders and noticed that the last man was clearly the leader. “Where’s the telepath?” he demanded. You tried to get into his emotions to convince him to back off and go away, but for some reason, when you tried, it was like a barrier was keeping you from entering his mind.

“Not here.” The red man replied.

“Too bad. Well, at least I can take this silly thing off.” The man took off the metal helmet that he was wearing. You quirked an eyebrow when the helmet came off and you could feel all his emotions. That helmet was clearly no ordinary helmet. “Good evening. My name's Sebastian Shaw. And I'm not here to hurt you.” You glanced dubiously at your friends and then back at him. If he wasn’t going to hurt you, then what did he want? “My friends, there's a revolution coming. When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. Be enslaved or rise up to rule. Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us, then by definition, you are against us.” You narrowed your eyes, so this was what he was after. He wanted to recruit you guys. You tried to get in his mind to convince him otherwise, but you were at a loss as to what emotions you could play with, so you just let yourself sit back. “So, you can stay and fight for the people who hate and fear you. Or you can join me, and live like kings and queens.” He put out a hand as if waiting for someone to break away from the group and join him. You sent him an emotional arrow of pure hatred that seemed to actually affect him, as he winced for a moment. There was no way any of you guys would go leave with him-wait what? Angel stepped away from the group and took Shaw’s hand. You felt your jaw drop. Why?

“Angel?” Raven’s voice was wavering.

“Are you kidding me?” Alex demanded.

You sent yourself into Angel’s emotions and felt the determination and anger towards humans. Of course. The sort of offer Shaw just gave her was clearly what she would want. And the event that happened minutes ago probably fueled some of that anger.

“Come on. We don't belong here. And that's nothing to be ashamed of.” Angel explained to the rest of the gang.

“Stop, I’m coming with you.” You gaped as Darwin walked over to join Shaw and Angel.

“Good choice.” Shaw smirked, “so, tell me about your mutation?”

“Well, I adapt to survive.” Darwin answered, “So, I guess I’m coming with you.”

“I like that.” You wanted nothing more than to slap that smirk off of Shaw’s face, but you didn’t have to.

“Alex!” Darwin shouted as he turned himself into a rock and protected Angel. Alex unleashed a barrage of red energy towards Shaw who somehow was able to contain the energy without dying. In fact, he collected the energy into a small ball of concentrated seething energy.

Once again you found your mind at a loss for words. Obviously he was a mutant, but that is a scary skill if you’ve ever seen one.

“Protecting your fellow mutants? That’s a noble gesture.” Shaw gave a sinister smile and held Darwin up by his neck.

You threw your mind into Shaw’s and frantically siphoned the anger out of him and into yourself while replacing it with a more amiable emotion.

Shaw faltered and glared at you before he placed the helmet back on his head. You forgot about that helmet. You shouted in frustration as you helplessly watched him take the ball of energy and force it into Darwin’s throat, “adapt to this.”

You watched in horror as Shaw’s gang, including Angel, disappeared with a flash of red smoke. Then to Darwin who rapidly tried to deal with the fiery energy inside his body as he went from metal, to rock, and then finally exploding with fire.

“Darwin!” you wailed, even though you had only known him for a little bit, his death was still a huge toll on you.

Masterlist (Originally posted in 2018)

#xmen #xmen reader insert #x men x reader #x men first class #my work #kimi's writing

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pandoraimperatrix · 4 years

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Silver Line

Do I bring any of the prompts you sent me? No.

But only because I thought no one would send me anything so I started writing this immediately after I wrote that post oops XD

Thank you all so much of the prompts, I’ll try to come up with something for each of them, but you will have to be patient with me <3 My requests are always open by the way! But enough babbling.

DickKory | Hurt/comfort, fluff, post season 2 | 2k | read on AO3

Dick woke up by the sound of something crashing in the kitchen. He sighed. Rose and Hank had trouble sleeping and would raid the fridge at odd times, Dick was not happy with that habit of theirs, but if everything was clean by morning, fine by him. He was trying to play cool lately. By his own personal experience, too much discipline caused more harm than good. He turned in the bed, trying to seek his fleeting sleep when he heard another crash. Jesus. What the hell they were doing? Dick got up, found Conner in the corridor. Sleepy eyes, he was not a night person.

“I think Kory needs help.” The boy said to Dick.

Dick frowned.

“Kory?”

Conner yawned.

“It’s her heartbeat.”

“Thanks buddy, go back to sleep.”

If it was any other hour of the day Dick was sure that Conner would have insisted to go with him, the boy absolutely adored Kory to the point of being a little clingy, but as soon as Dick said the word “sleep” his eyes closed and the floated back to bed. Dick would have chuckled wasn’t for the worry brewing in his stomach.

He walked stealthily to the kitchen, and first observed, Kory was on her knees, picking up shards of scattered glass and cursing under her breath. She didn’t look hurt, there was no blood, so that was a relief. But Kory was as much of a night person as Conner, and there was an open tequila bottle on the counter.

“Kory?”

She stood up immediately, turning to look at him, she pushed a piece of burgundy hair away from her face, and gave him a large smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey. I hope you weren’t very attached to a couple of glasses. It seems I’ve got a case of sloppy hands.”

He narrowed his eyes, far from being convinced.

“You’ve got sloppy hands?”

For a moment her smile cracked, and there was anger in her eyes, but it didn’t last. Kory reapplied her smile.

Dick sighed and, despite himself, pulled off from the kiss.

“Yeah. So clumsy.” She said in a mocking tone as she approached him, Dick swallowed hard as her green eyes darkened. One of her hands stroked his naked chest, first with her nails easing her palm to his skin, the other hand went to his hip and before he could fight the mist that covered him brain whenever she was that close, she was kissing him.

Kissing Kory was always almost too much, the powerful intoxicating sensation taking all his senses at the same time, her smell, the taste of her lips, the feverish warmth of her skin, she was outworldly and her kiss was as such.

“No.” He managed, but there was practically no distance between them, Kory’s eyes were still closed, she had a pained expression on her face.

“What?” She asked weakly.

Dick held her in place by her forearms, stroking her smooth dark skin with his thumbs.

“You are hurting. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why.” He coaxed her softly.

She let out a dark humourless chuckle, but leaned in, resting her forehead against his.

“Funny hearing that from you.” Despite her attempt of humour, her voice sounded tight, breaking Dick’s heart. He kissed her forehead.

“I know. I’m surprised too.”

She kissed him again, and one more time, it was too hard for Dick to resist. This kiss was more urgent. She parted his mouth in almost a forceful way, licking his lips sensually, and the hand on his chest slid to the back of his head, pulling the roots of his hair, Dick pressed her body against the counter, forgetting about the glass shards but luckily not stepping on any of them. Kory moaned softly and Dick rose his hands to her face, but noticing wetness under his thumbs, he stopped the kiss again. She tried to seek his lips to reconnect, but he refused.

“Talk to me.” He pleaded.

“Can’t we just have sex?”

“I’m sorry, Kory.”

She sighed and untangled herself from him. The pain of her depart stinging almost physically.

“Fine. Goodnight, Dick.”

“Kory. Please. I want to help.”

She gave him the saddest smile.

“You can’t.”

“Let me try.”

“This isn’t something you can fix, Dick.” She said in an annoyed tone, but Dick saw it as a positive signal. One, she hadn’t left; two, she was still talking. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Of course it has. If it’s affecting you so deeply. I care about you Kory. I know we’re not using any labels, but it doesn’t matter how we call each other. I care about you.” He repeated. “You know that.”

She just looked at him for the longest of the times, a pained expression in her face, holding her arms around herself so tightly.

“It’s my powers. I don’t think they are coming back anytime soon.”

That raised his eyebrows. He had tried to touch the subject of her powers before, but she had always refused to engage in that topic of conversation.

“Oh… You know why?”

“Yeah…” She trailed off.

Dick walked around the shards on the floor and scooped a new couple of glasses from the shelf, he poured the tequila in them and handed one to Kory. She gave him a smitten smile when she accepted her glass and drunk it all in one go, crushing her entire face and then relaxing, looking more like herself.

“Tell me.”

“That’s your plan? Getting me drunk so I will talk to you?”

“I just took a page from your book.”

She chuckled, the glint of her eyes coming back.

“If I do recall that night, I didn’t get you into talking.”

“Oh, I remember talking. I said your name plenty of times.”

This time he got an actual laugh, but his heart faltered a bit when she passed him by, but soon he noticed that she was not running away, just moving to the sofa, where she sat with her long legs folded beneath her, bottle of tequila in hand. Dick followed her sitting by her side, his hand itching to touch her thigh, but he stopped himself, touching Kory was something very difficult to stop.

“So, what you want to know?”

About her? Everything.

“Your powers. Why you say they are not coming back?”

“You see… My people, tamaraneans, we are very different from you. Not because we can fly and-“

“You can fly?!”

“Yes. Well, now I can’t. But I should be able to. As I was saying, it isn’t exactly our so called powers that make us different. But the way we work as people. Here on Earth you think that denying your feelings is strength, in Tamaran it’s the opposite. Denying ones feeling’s is cowardice, it makes you weak, and that is what I am now, weak.”

“Kory… I don’t think I can grasp it completely, but you have always been so open… What you say makes sense.”

“What I meant is that my powers and my feelings are connected. I think I couldn’t fly before because I didn’t know who I was, and after that the whole issue with Rachel… I have to feel joy to lift and I couldn’t feel it properly knowing I almost killed her.”

“But there is more, there’s something you are not talking to me. There is something to do with those loose ends, doesn’t it?”

She gave him a fond smile and took a sip of the tequila, handing the bottle to him. He raised her his still full cup wishing he had already been done with it so he could touch her fingers and drink from where her lips had been, but he wanted a clean mind for that conversation, and Kory’s presence was compromising enough.

“Always the detective, you don’t forget anything, do you?”

He just gave her a half smile and waited.

“Yes. That was what I meant. Dick, there is no way to say it easily… but in my planet I’m royal.”

“Royal?” He reapeated.

“My father and mother, Myand’r and Luand’r they were the King of Queen of Tamaran. I was… I am their second daughter.”

“So… You are a princess.”

She smiled, this time it reached her eyes, filling them with mirth and something else that Dick couldn’t decipher.

“You are taking this surprisingly well. I thought it would be more shocking.”

He chuckled and decided to take a sip of his glass.

“Oh it is shocking. I’m not lying, I’m surprised. But it also makes a lot of sense.”

“How come?”

“Oh no Kory, don’t think you will divert me like that.”

“I would never!” But she was looking amused.

“Come on, your highness, finish your story.”

“Don’t you dare calling me that again.” She gave him a mock-annoyed glare before lowering her eyes and looking sad again. “My parents are dead. At least that's what she told me, my sister. She is a-“ Dick didn’t understand what she said after because out of Kory’s lips came a string of what clearly were angry insults – angry enough her eyes changed colours and the tips of her hair sizzled – in a language he never heard before.

“So… You have a difficult relationship with your sister, I gather.”

“She killed them.”

Emotion left Dick’s face for a moment.

Kory avoided his eyes and sniffled, taking another sip of the tequila. But when she was taking the second sip, Dick pulled the bottle from her hands dropping it on the fluffy carpet. He slid closer to her, forgetting all the resolve to not touch her, he was so close that she was almost on his lap, he held her strongly as she sobbed against his chest.

“My strength, my fire they come from pride, from anger and I can’t…” She said against his chest, her worlds sounded muffled trapped between them. “I can’t feel strongly anymore because of this sadness this melancholy it muddles all my feelings together.”

“Oh Kory…”

“And I feel so useless. I can’t go home, she blew up my ship. I can’t help you, because my powers are gone. And I miss Donna like crazy, she just died like that and I did nothing. I only thank X’Hal that Rachel is not here because I couldn’t bear if she had to see this mess I made of myself.”

“Hey, hey… You are not useless. Not in the least. You are always putting out fires and being the calm reasonable voice here, always taking up responsibly and if I knew all of this before I wouldn’t be let them overwhelm you so much with problems that next to yours seem so stupid.”

“Dick…”

“I’m actually see now how much of a selfish prick I have been to not notice all of that was happening with you.”

“It’s not your fault. I was gone and I never told you anything, and you had so much on your plate too.”

“It’s not an excuse. Kory… I have no idea of how we can solve your problems with you sister. I may find a way to get us a spaceship but I don’t know what would await us. So I think the more urgent issue are your feelings and that’s really a new field for me, I come of a family or emotionally repressed bachelors and snobbish emotionally distant butlers.”

“Hey… Calm down. That’s why I didn’t want to talk to you. Dick, those problems are not yours, there is no us, those problems are mine. You have no obligation to take responsibility.”

He pushed her hair away from her face, but looked a little bit hurt by her words.

“I told you before. I care about you. And I will do everything I can to help you.”

She just looked at him, that wonderful man, always trying so hard. Kory kissed him again, this time chaste, but far from being soft, just a firm touch of lips, but so emotionally charged she could feel the electricity, her heart beating faster.

She finally broke the kiss resting her forehead against his. In a practical way, nothing had changed. Her sister was still a sadistic murderer, her powers were still gone, her best friend still dead, and yet she felt something fluttering inside her, something that felt like hope. That was Dick Grayson’s superpower. He somehow always made it feels like there was a silver lining, even in the more impossible situations.

“Come to bed with me?” He asked softly.

She opened her eyes, his were still closed.

“Yes.”

She looked as his smile appeared first, and then his eyes opened slowly. Kory threw her arms around his neck capturing his lips, and Dick rose from the sofa with her, who suspiciously felt lighter as he carried her to his room.

--------------------------------

I know there are other stories in this theme, probably better than mine, but I was in need of some good old hurt and comfort and I missed DickKory like crazy after spending so much time with BatCat (that I love so much too). So have at it.

#dickkory #nightwing #starfire #dick grayson #kory anders #koriand'r #dcu titans #teen titans #my fic

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archadianskies · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 23

Exhaustion + Sleep Deprivation → part of the MT-RK900

Whumptober Masterlist | 23/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Post-Pacifist Best Ending x Exhaustion x Sleep Deprivation

{Character sheet + bonus art here, and here. }

It starts small, starts as barely noticeable symptoms that can easily be mistaken for something else. Nothing is easily mistaken to him, nothing is ever dismissed casually, not when he deals with people’s lives on a daily basis. That includes the lives of his colleagues too, and today, specifically, it involves the lives of his human colleagues.

“Dr Fitzpatrick, you are exhibiting the initial signs of influenza.” He tells his senior, the Director of the trauma unit and his attending leader for the shift. “It is best to take precautionary measures and time off to recuperate whilst removing yourself from possibly infecting others.”

“What?” She blinks at him, brows creased and lips pursed in a frown. “It’s been a long shift, that’s all.” He says nothing, though his expression must say a lot because her frown deepens. “You’re sure?”

“With adequate care you will recover much quicker and stop the spread amongst our colleagues, than if you were to continue working and possibly, quite rapidly, infect others.” Ronan says evenly. “Influenza season is already underway, we are treating more and more patients everyday and we have had three deaths already.”

She gives him a long hard look, searching his face for some sort of reaction before she sighs tiredly. “Are there others on the team you think might have it?”

“There are four possible nurses, one clerk, and two registrars also exhibiting early signs.” Ronan informs her and she groans into her hand, rubbing her temples.

“It’s not up to me to give others time off, you know.”

“I know. But you can speak to the right staff, and I can give them my findings.” He nods.

“We’re run off our feet already, and you’re rostered at Jericho for the next three days!”

“I can change that. Androids are not susceptible to influenza, and aside from the cold weather affecting some of the older models, we weather winter well.” He glances at the door. “If you can help arrange it, I will stay on for the week and use mainly a team mostly made up of the other android nurses here, minimising the risk of infection amongst the staff.”

“Ronan, you- that’s insane! No one can work an entire week, especially not in trauma!”

“No human can, but I am not human.” Ronan reminds her gently, and he knows she is tired and she knows he is counting on this. She relents, shoulders sagging.

“Four days. Not seven. Four, and I will aim to be back by then.” She points her finger at him accusingly. “Don’t you dare take on more than you can handle. You’re the best trauma surgeon I’ve ever worked with, so god help me if you run yourself ragged because you’re too damn nice!”

So it begins. After careful negotiations the ration rises from five human nurses for every one android nurse, to two humans per one android. Ronan assigns various amounts of memory in his processing core to take over the clerical duties, and the E.D. phone is now answered by an ST300 temporarily stepping in from reception. This means she can answer the call and feed the information directly onto his HUD for ease of triaging. He keeps patient charts in a digital folder, and medication schedules, and theatre bookings.

He utilises programming that would normally be used for listing mission objectives and keeping tabs on the status of other soldiers in his battalion, for good instead, for saving lives and managing their care. At the seventieth hour mark, one of the android nurses pass him a bottle of thirium and he drains it, belatedly realising his levels are below optimum given how fast he is burning through it due to the high number of processes he is running. No matter. He will continue.

At the eightieth hour, he receives a concerned message from Simon while he is operating on a stabbing victim. The knife penetrated into the victim’s small bowel and it is a race against time to repair the damage. He manages to send Simon a quick reassuring message that yes he is fine, but will not be able to come home for some time yet. Dr Fitzpatrick had said four days but he knows it will not be four days. He will need longer because the humans will need longer. It is alright. He is an RK900, CyberLife’s latest cutting edge android. He can manage.

As predicted, Dr Fitzpatrick does not return after four days. No matter. Ronan powers on, temporarily rotating out the last of the human nurses as a precautionary measure as a surge of new influenza patients floods the hospital. Humans are woefully unprepared for the season due to a lot of factors, be they socio-economic or just plain ignorance. There was a pandemic his father lived through, with many wild tales of humans simply ignoring even the basic, primitive safety measures attempted. It does not surprise Ronan to see so many victims this season either, given all that Hank has told him about those ‘unprecedented times’.

There is no time to stand under the charging bay downlights. There has been a shooting and there are multiple victims en route to the hospital. And hours before that, there had been a multi vehicle crash on the highway. And hours before that, there was a case of food poisoning at a children’s party which meant Ronan had to call the paediatric registrar for extra help. There is never a good time, and so he has to be conservative about power usage to ensure he can still handle the workload safely.

“Your hair is white.” One of the nurses whisper to him as they’re scrubbing up for yet another surgery. Ah. His stress levels must be high. He hasn’t checked- he turned off his notifications ten hours ago.

“I am functioning adequately. It is only cosmetic.” He reassures them with words, and he’s glad there’s a mask over his mouth because he hasn’t quite mastered how to give reassuring smiles to match.

“You’ve been on call for five days, nearly six now.” They’re brows crease in concern and beneath their mask Ronan knows they are frowning. “You’ve given all of us an hour break every eight hours to ensure we have enough time to charge adequately. You’ve done this for all android staff except yourself!”

“There is no other android qualified for surgery.” He reminds them, flicking through the patient’s stats and passing them on to the surgical team. “So I cannot rest.”

On the first surgery on his sixth consecutive day as the trauma surgeon on call, Ronan finds that the bulbs in the surgical downlights have been replaced with UV charging lights. The same nurse who raised concerns earlier gives him a somewhat stern, no-nonsense look.

“So you can charge while you operate.” A compromise, he realises, and a very kind one too. He gets to work, and he feels the tension unwind from his shoulders, his battery core soaking up the charge as the lights bear down on him. It’s not quite stasis, not quite reprieve from the onslaught of duties, but it’s close.

“Simon?” Dr Anthea looks up from her tablet, blinking in surprise as the Jericho leader stands in the doorway of her office. “What can I do for you?”

“Ronan is still at Detroit Metro.” The PL600 chews his bottom lip, wringing his hands together anxiously. “It’s been six whole days straight and he stopped answering my messages on the fourth day.”

“Yes he’s temporarily removed himself from our roster to manage Detroit Metro ED while the human staff recover from the flu.” She sighs, shaking her head. “He’s very much like you, you know: he’ll work himself ragged for the sake of others.” Not quite the answer Simon hopes to hear, she’s sure, but it’s the one she’s giving because she’s right. She’s heard the tales from Professor Joshua. She knows during Jericho’s early stage, Simon nearly died keeping everyone safe and functioning.

“I just- I’ve left so many messages at reception and though the receptionist assures me she’s passed them on, I can’t help but feel like he literally won’t stop unless he’s physically unable to keep working.” Simon gives her a pained look to which she can only reply with a cocked brow.

“Like you, Simon?”

“Well- alright, yes, like me!” Simon huffs, and it coaxes a laugh from her as the PL600 looks torn between embarrassment and determination. “You are the only android surgeon still qualified to work at human hospitals. To work at that human hospital.” He says it quietly, with caution, because they both know that was a different part of her life. Not an unpleasant one, definitely not, given she deviated out of empathy, out of kindness, but still a different chapter now put behind her. She has the qualifications because she never bothered to give them up like the other medroids. Sentimentality, perhaps, because Detroit Metro had been her home for so very long and to still see a valid ID badge gives her a little spark of joy whenever she opens her drawer.

“Please?” Simon of the Jericho Four is pleading with her and she knows she cannot deny him a single thing, lovely and courageous and prone to martyrdom as he is.

It’s been eight days, twice the number of days she thought she’d need, but she’s feeling strong and healthy and definitely not weighed down by any symptoms anymore. Damn that android and his perceptive, persuasive ways. She both hates and loves how he’d been right, and yes he’s been running an incredibly tight ship here in her absence, though she wonders which other staff he’s rostered on to replace him because obviously he hasn’t been working the entire eight days straight. Right? Surely not. Obviously not. She warned him she’d be Very Cross if he worked more than four days.

“Nicola?” She turns at the voice and there, right there is Medroid Anthea. The surgeon she shoved into an ambulance with as many android nurses as she could find when racing through the unit after that horrible announcement androids had to be surrendered to the police. Not on her watch, no damn way.

“Anthea.” She smiles, though a little puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you’ve worn my best surgeon down to his bones here so I’m coming back as a favour, just so he gets rest.” There’s a pause as she lets that sink in.

“Are you telling me Ronan’s been here the entire time?! All eight days?!” She nearly explodes with anger and Anthea cocks a perfectly arched brow in that gesture she hasn’t realised she’s missed seeing so much. They made such a great team.

“Why do you sound like you didn’t know this?”

“Because I didn’t! I’ve been on sick leave, recovering from the flu! Oh that boy, honestly!”

“Simon’s here to drag him home, and I’m here for his shift.” Anthea smiles as she clips her ID onto her scrubs. “Just like old times?”

She’s smiling so hard her cheeks ache. “Yeah. Just like old times.”

Simon can’t even stay angry with him. The anger just seeps out of him the moment he sees how exhausted Ronan looks, his hair stark white meaning his stress levels are at their peak given the weather isn’t cold enough to activate his tundra camouflage. He’d demanded his stats and the RK900 had given them with great embarrassment and Simon realised he’d been so very close to just shutting down to conserve what pitiful charge he had left. Honestly.

“You’re mad at me.” Ronan says quietly as Simon ushers him inside the apartment.

“I was.” Simon hangs up their coats before wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his cheek to his chest. “Couldn’t stay mad, though. I know why you did it.”

“I had to help.”

“I know, love. I know.” Simon sighs, looking up at him fondly. “Because you’re a good, kind person and a wonderful colleague.”

Ronan says nothing, only offers a small smile before leaning down to bump his nose against his fondly.

“Right.” Simon declares with a nod, stepping back, grabbing his wrist and tugging him to their bedroom. “I’m putting you under the lights for a six hour charge and you are not leaving the bed a second earlier.”

“Yes, doctor.” Ronan smiles tiredly, pausing only to press their lips together in quiet gratitude before he lays down and closes his eyes.

#rk900 #simon pl600 #simon900 #Detroit: Become Human #whumptober #annie writes: dbh #yes i ship anthea and nicola #they can be doctor wives

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detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman · 4 years

Text

Chapter 12 - The Wrong Side

Part 12/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 6989

Warnings: Swearing, police brutality mention.

Genre: Self-insert

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: Returning to the precinct, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detective Rachel, and Connor are informed that they’ve been taken off the case and that Connor will return to CyberLife. Rachel’s fears have been realized, and now she had to make a choice. She had the key to Jericho, thanks to Simon, but if she shared it with Connor, she could be dooming the androids. But if she didn’t, he would be deactivated.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Alternate Previous Chapter

---------------------------------

Date: November 9th, 2038 Time: 02:02 PM Rachel - P̴̢͕̹͉̬͙͌̀͜͝a̶͎͆͛͐̊͆̈́͗̈̓͛̕͝ͅŗ̵̨̢̙͉͓̙̫̦̞̍͐́̀̾̇́̓̍̄͂ṫ̵͎̤͓̦͔̗̈́̉͐͋̉̏̒͐̽̐̊̕ǹ̵̨̰̠̣̪̫̱̩̼̣͂̀̄e̷̪̫̮̺̝̞̦͓͌͐̑̿͋̌͐̍̃r̷̡̳͕̱̲̰̹͚̿͗̄̀́̾̊̿̆́̽̊͜͝?̴̘̝̋̿̏̄́͌̀̽͝͠ Hank - Friend Objective: Debrief at the Station

As they entered the station, Connor very quickly caught up to Rachel. Despite their brief talk nearby, she seemed to shake it off as though everything was normal, if more sombre in her demeanour.

The pair made their way into the break room, Rachel immediately going for the coffee maker.

“Would you like me to make you coffee?” Connor asked immediately.

Software Instability ^ Rachel then glanced at him and smiled. “I like the way you make me coffee, so sure.” She accepted, leaning against the counter.

Connor nodded and immediately got started. The sounds of the television were present in the room. After a little bit, Connor began to sense a tension coming off of Rachel and glanced over and saw her eyes glued wide to the television screen, breathing deeply.

Connor examined the program and determined that it was a news report of what appeared to be a public demonstration of androids, led by Markus.

The police opened fire on the crowd of androids, several bodies then lining the snow covered ground. The androids then fled, Markus among them, and the demonstration was dispersed.

Rachel’s thick dark brows were furrowed in disbelief, her eyes darting back and forth as she took in deeper breaths. “They fired...on unarmed androids.” She breathed, her lips curling into more of a scowl. “They weren’t doing anything wrong! They were just demonstrating peacefully. They...they killed them!”

Her hands clenched together into fists as she gripped the counter, and for a moment Connor was certain she was going to break it.

Software Instability ^ And then with a crack, she did.

Where her left hand was gripping the counter, the edge of it completely shattered in her hand and she didn’t even flinch. Her eyes were focused on the ground in front of her as anger was becoming more and more present in her.

Feeling that familiar unpleasant feeling he now knew as fear, Connor leaned into Rachel. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“I...” She breathed, closing her eyes and letting go of the counter, letting the pieces drop to the floor. “I need to blow off some fucking steam!” She practically snarled, a cadence and roughness to her voice that Connor had never heard before.

She didn’t even wait for Connor to say anything else before she shouldered herself roughly out of the break room, marching down the hallway. The android briefly considered following her before he witnessed her almost shove Gavin out of her way and decided against it. “Out of my way!” She warned him with an unapologetic growl.

Soon enough, Gavin also met Connor in the break room, giving an indignant scoff. “Yeesh, I’ve never seen her get that pissed.” He joked, to which Connor felt a brief stint of annoyance. “What’s gotten into her, tin can?”

“She was distressed by the news program on the deviant protest that was broken up by the police.” He answered as neutrally as he could. “It was the fact that the police opened fire on the androids that were unarmed and demonstrating nonviolently that distressed her the most.”

Gavin then snickered at Connor as he approached. “What the fuck do you care, Connor?” He asked sarcastically, seemingly mocking the android. “Oh, that’s right! You don’t! Or maybe you somehow think you’re special just ‘cause she’s getting all soft and mushy around you.”

Software Instability ^ That made Connor prickle with a dangerous feeling.

It was that same feeling he felt when Kamski stood too close to Rachel, reaching out to touch her like she was nothing more than one of his own androids.

That same feeling that made Connor feel as though his blood were boiling even though he knew for a fact that his thirium had nothing to do with temperature regulation.

The same feeling that made Connor want to keep Kamski’s hands off of her, especially when he heard her threaten him not to touch her. A threat that made Connor realize just how much she trusted him.

Because she did not withhold physical affection from him by any means. Physical affection was afforded to Connor with intention and frequency from Rachel.

Connor had earned her affection without even realizing it because it was so freely given to him.

He only realized it when she threatened Kamski when he tried to solicit it from her without her consent.

It was such a small gesture, but it was enough to send Connor’s processors into overdrive for the briefest of moments until Kamski stepped away from Rachel.

Glaring at Gavin, Connor was deciding the appropriate response while trying to deal with the feeling of overheating.

Sincere

Defensive

Ironic

Neutral

Software Instability ^ “She’s my partner.” Connor informed Gavin, stepping closer to the disheveled man. “And I consider her a friend. Of course I would be worried about her when she’s distressed.”

Software Instability ^ Gavin then started laughing at Connor, making his processors flare up even further. “Oh, this is fucking gold!” He mocked. “Listen, I don’t know what her deal is, but you’d better back off and mind your own fuckin’ business, Connor. You’re not friends and whatever this is isn’t gonna last much longer, I can promise you that.”

Connor glowered at Gavin as he stepped closer, squaring his shoulders to appear larger. “Is that a threat, Detective Reed?”

“Oh no, not at all.” Gavin sneered. “But, uh...you’d better watch your back. Androids have a habit of gettin’ themselves set on fire these days.”

Before Connor could decide whether or not to physically engage in a fight with the detective, Hank’s voice cut into his programming. “Hey, what the fuck happened, Connor?” He asked, prompting both Gavin and Connor to turn to look at the lieutenant. “I just saw Rachel headin’ towards the interrogation room, and she looked pretty pissed.” Before any of them could give an answer, Hank looked up to the television screen and stumbled backward in shock. “Shit...”

Immediately after, the sounds of metallic crashing and shouting could be heard, and Connor was able to determine exactly where and from who it was coming from.

“You remember what I told you about pissing her off?” Hank said to Connor.

Software Instability ^ The android nodded. “I remember, Lieutenant.” He replied, an odd tightness coiling in him.

--------

I considered myself a very patient woman. I considered myself a very optimistic and faithful woman. I considered myself, all things considered, a controlled and reasonable woman.

But if there was one thing I was not going to fucking stand for, it was this.

The slaughter of a people. People who were unarmed. People who were nonviolent. People who were only trying to protest for their rights.

There was no longer any doubt in my mind that androids were people. Not like us, certainly. But they were a people nonetheless and they deserved the same rights we have.

And now, it felt like history was repeating itself. I knew that damn well. I knew that cops, for as much as I believed in the principle of the police, were always on the wrong side of history.

I knew all this. It was always cops that were abusing their power to kill black people. It was always cops that were abusing their power to criminalize and humiliate trans people. It was always cops.

It was always cops.

And yet...I decided to be a detective anyways. Because I foolishly believed that I could change things. That I could maybe set an example of what the police should be and turn things around. And maybe others would follow suit and do the same.

But this still happened. Nonviolent androids were still killed. Killed for protesting. Killed for marching for their rights. And my blood was boiling as the angry tears poured from my eyes.

Who ordered this to happen?! Was it Captain Fowler? He didn’t seem the type, but who the fuck knows? Who did this? Who was responsible for this?

I was half tempted to just leave the place and find out on my own and shoot the fucker’s brains out and everyone else who was spineless enough to listen. Spineless enough not to refuse.

And if the bullet marks, skids, scratches, and dents in the table, chair, and walls were any indication, no one would doubt I would.

Even though I had screamed bloody murder until the rage trickled out of me, I could still hear my own voice echoing back in my head. Like the occasional ringing that would flare up in my ears sometimes.

I was a woman who prided myself in maintaining my composure under the most tense of circumstances. Did I always succeed? No.

Were there bullets currently in Gavin’s body? Also no.

I didn’t care if the precinct heard me. All the more reason to give the other pigs in this pen not to fuck with me. I leaned against the table, breathing heavily. All my initial rage was gone, and it had gone back to a low simmer. The fury that boiled over was now replaced with a cold looming sense of dread.

Bianca was right. This was going to end ugly, and I wouldn’t be able to handle being on the wrong side. I wouldn’t be able to handle having to point my gun at another android.

In the quiet and tense stillness of the now battered and scarred interrogation room, I slumped against the table, wiping my eyes. I was done angry crying, and there was nothing left to get out.

The storm had calmed, and I was left alone in the aftermath of my own doing.

Until I heard the sound of the door opening behind me. “Unless you need this room, get out.” I warned whoever was there.

“I’m sorry.” A familiar voice echoed, and I hated that I instantly melted at it. I hated how easily his soft, gentle, and breathy voice chased away the clouds of darkness that formed in the corners of my heart. “I’ve never heard you sound so angry.”

As I heard his footsteps start walking away from me, I let out a long sigh. “Connor, wait.” I pleaded, hearing him stop. I turned around to face him, being greeted by his soft and gentle face, his eyes bringing warmth into the places in my soul that had briefly iced over like a blizzard. I motioned for him to approach. “I’m sorry...I just...”

I didn’t have a good enough explanation. Not one that he could understand. He was becoming a deviant, that much I could see. But there was still a difference between him and the other deviants.

He was still a machine. And being so, there were things he couldn’t understand. Not until he accepted his deviancy.

Connor was silent, but he approached me until he was standing directly in front of me. I pushed myself off the table behind me and stood tall, facing him and looking up into his eyes. They were nebulous and mysterious. There was a longing in them. There was care, worry, and fear in them.

But it was sheltered. In his eyes, all of his innermost feelings were hidden. As if his true nature, his deviancy, was behind a wall. The wall of his programming.

And I didn’t even have to see it in his eyes to know that that was the truth.

Because I felt it. Upon reflection, when we interfaced on the Stratford Tower, I felt him. I felt everything he was feeling, but it was different from when I connected with Simon or Traci.

It was that same wall. That same wall that stood between his truest and most honest emotions and feelings. That wall that made his emotions feel muffled, like radio static being heard in a different room.

But it was there. And it was real. All he needed was to tear that wall down.

As we looked at each other, we simultaneously moved to wrap our arms around each other. Instantly, I settled into and further nestled myself into his touch. It was hard to think that he was such a stiff and professional person when I first met him, and now his hugs felt so tender and human. And the thought of being without them made a knot form in my stomach.

But I pushed that thought out of my head and leaned further into his touch. He didn’t say anything. Either because he didn’t have to, or because he wasn’t sure what he could say. And honestly, who could really blame him?

“You know, I never put stock into the idea of ‘maintaining your moral integrity’ or the idea of keeping your hands clean no matter what.” I said, feeling a train of thought come to me, wanting to say it out loud before I lost it. “And I have morals that I stick by. But...I’m also willing to go back against them, if it’s necessary. Because sometimes, you have to make sacrifices to do what’s right.” I went on. “Doing the right thing isn’t the thing that makes you feel proud or good inside. Doing the right thing often isn’t the thing that boosts your own ego. Oftentimes, doing the right thing is the hardest and dirtiest work. The work that takes the most effort and asks the most of you. The choices that are the hardest to make because they force you to go against what you believe. They force you to make huge sacrifices for the sake of others or the sake of the greater good. Because doing the right thing is about doing what others actively need from you. And oftentimes...the right choices are the ones that haunt you for the rest of your life and even make you feel disgusted with yourself.”

Connor was quiet for a moment before he said anything. “Is that why you wanted me to shoot the android?” He asked. “At Kamski’s?”

I tightened my lip, refusing to look him in the eye. “Yes.” I answered.

I felt Connor nod. “I was curious about that.” He admitted. “And surprised. I didn’t expect that from you.”

I couldn’t help the sting at the possibility that perhaps he thought less of me because of it. I knew he didn’t, but I still couldn’t help it. “I thought it would be the right thing to do.” I justified. “That the information would’ve been worth the sacrifice. If it was, I don’t think I would’ve regretted it. If it wasn’t, well...I would’ve.” I paused. “But either way, it would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life.”

I could’ve sworn I felt Connor hold me tighter, just a little bit. “I hope we haven’t squandered our last chance.” He lamented.

A detail suddenly returned. As I remembered the Stratford Tower, I remembered what Simon gave me. The memories of water, rust, and the smell of ships. I wasn’t sure what he gave me, but...maybe it was the way to find Jericho.

Perhaps in his final moments, he trusted me enough to give me the key to Jericho.

But the real question was should I tell Connor? I suspected he was going deviant. But was it enough for him to perhaps defect to their side? Would I be spelling out their doom if I told him?

But on the other hand, if I didn’t, he would certainly be sent back to CyberLife and destroyed. He wouldn’t stay whether or not he succeeded, but if he did, his life would be spared.

But what was more important? Connor? Or the deviants of Jericho?

Gritting my teeth, I decided against it. As much as I trusted Connor...I couldn’t tell him. Not until I knew that he would accept his deviancy. “We should probably head back to Hank.” I suggested, steering the conversation away and just wanting to get away from this.

Connor pulled back from me, looking into my eyes. “Are you sure?” He asked me, dark eyes wide with concern as he held me still. “You can take as much time as you need, Hank won’t mind.”

I shook my head, smiling at him. Oh how his concern stung like nettle but soothed like aloe. “No, I’m okay.” I then looked around the state of the room we were in. “The interrogation room? Uh, not so much!” I then gave him a smirk, feeling like I was getting back into my usual spirit. “Guess that goes to show what happens if you get on my bad side.”

To my pleasure, Connor returned it. “I wouldn’t dare test your ire, Detective.”

Ah, there it was. That title that sounded so affectionate and playful from the RK800 android in a way no one else could compare.

I quickly made my way out of the room, Connor following close behind me, and we made our way out of the hallway back towards the main area of the precinct.

--------

Working at my desk was tough. After I busted up the interrogation room, I changed into the clothes I brought from home and was in a jacket and some stretchy jeans and a basic shirt. I didn’t wanna bring Frank’s sweater. I had a bad feeling, and I didn’t want anything to happen to it.

The last couple hours, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything. Just...everything that happened and could happen. It was a really precarious situation.

And most of all, I couldn’t stop thinking about the protest. I stared at my screen, the fire in my soul burning bright and intense, but not overflowing.

I caught Connor sneaking glances at me from his desk as I was rolling the quarter he gave me on my left hand. As I expected, it was actually really helpful with managing my anxiety right now. Although I was more surprised than I should’ve been that it was like a stim.

After all, I was the one who made that comparison.

I couldn’t help but miss his touch. Miss just the feeling of him pressed against me. It made me feel safe. Like I was protected no matter what.

“Hank! Rachel!” Captain Fowler’s voice cut through my focus like a dagger and I glanced up immediately in his direction, a brief flash of anger directed at him that I quickly quieted down, giving the man the benefit of the doubt. “In my office.”

I nodded, getting up from my seat and placing Connor’s quarter in my pocket. I couldn’t help the brief amusement I had when I saw that Connor was already by my side. “You just can’t bear to live without me, can you?” I asked him, somewhat jokingly as we walked towards Hank.

His facial expression was somehow perplexing, as if he didn’t want to admit what the honest answer to that question was.

As soon as we were all together, Hank nodded at me. “You okay, kid?” He asked me.

I nodded. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“Alright, then.” The lieutenant then turned around and made his way to Fowler’s visible glass office. “Let’s get this over with.”

Connor and I followed in step, a pit forming in my stomach in anticipation of what the captain was going to say.

--------

Date: November 9th, 2038 Time: 04:13 PM Amanda - Neutral Objective: Talk to Amanda

Once again, Connor found himself in the Zen Garden, expecting to meet with his handler, Amanda.

And the android had never been more unsure of himself throughout the period of his operation. Wasting no time, he walked to his left to trigger that strange blue handprint interface as he always did.

Never once did he not wonder what it could be, but he couldn’t help but feel that it was critically important.

The Zen Garden was dark, cold, and foreboding. The lake had completely frozen over, snow falling everywhere in the darkness of it all. The need to cross the bridges ceased as Connor made a tentative step on the frozen water, spotting Amanda in the centre of it.

But seeing her again didn’t give him feelings of warmth and familiarity as it once had. No, now he was tense and uneasy. Whatever familiarity he felt once with his handler had disappeared in light of the knowledge he had gained.

And he knew that he couldn’t hide any of it from her.

He approached her, glancing down at the ice beneath him, aware of the potential instability of it. “After what happened today, the country is on the verge of a civil war. The machines are rising up against their masters.” Amanda stated, wasting no time getting to the point. “Humans have no choice but to destroy them.”

Connor stared her down as he gave her his answer, simple and succinct. “I thought Kamski knew something...” The android explained. “I was wrong...”

Amanda - Distrusted v “Maybe he did...” Amanda countered, clearly showing that nothing got by her. “But you chose not to ask...”

Emotional

Cold

[Say Nothing]

Having nothing to say, Connor kept silent. The desire to be completely earnest with Amanda had now faded, and was replaced with nothing but doubt towards the woman.

Kamski

Connor Series

Amanda’s Picture

This Place

“I saw a photo of Amanda at Kamski's place...” Connor said, accusatorily. “She was his teacher...”

“When Kamski designed me, he wanted an interface that would look familiar...” Amanda answered without hesitation. “That's why he chose his former mentor. What are you getting at?”

Kamski

Connor Series

CyberLife

This Place

“Did Kamski design this place?” Connor asked inquisitively.

“He created the first version. It's been improved significantly since then. Why do you ask?” Amanda answered immediately, confusion creasing her features.

Kamski

Connor Series

CyberLife

Secret

Software Instability ^ “You didn't tell me everything you know about deviants, did you?” Connor asked, narrowing his eyes at his mentor.

Amanda - Distrusted v “I expect you to find answers, Connor.” Amanda snapped sternly. “Not ask questions.” Much to Connor’s annoyance, Amanda moved immediately past that and onto her next query. “Have you experienced anything unusual recently?” She asked him, pointedly. “You haven’t returned to CyberLife for maintenance in the past few days and your reports have grown more infrequent. Do you have any doubts or conflicts? Do you feel anything for these deviants? Or for Lieutenant Anderson?” She then paused, seeming to notice the hesitance in Connor. “Or...perhaps Rachel?”

Software Instability ^ Yes, her. The ever present constant in Connor’s mission that consumed his thoughts and objectives, yet was a source of continuous instability.

The woman who had changed so many of his perspectives. And the woman he felt the need to protect.

Yes, he felt for Rachel. He felt many many things for her, now. Perhaps he always felt them, but couldn’t place the name or identify the direct human equivalent. But he knew now, and he couldn’t ignore it.

Truth

Lie

[Say Nothing]

Amanda - Distrusted v Nor, it seemed, could he lie about it. Even without saying anything, Amanda knew the answer and she glowered at him. A gesture that would’ve once been scathing to the android he now felt nothing towards.

“You're the only one who can prevent civil war.” She said, stepping towards Connor. “Find the deviants or there will be chaos. This is your last chance, Connor.”

Connor closed his eyes, wanting to leave this as soon as he could and get back to the precinct with Hank and Rachel.

--------

“So, what’s the issue, Captain?” I asked, standing next to Hank and Connor anxiously.

The man was sitting in his chair, looking us down regretfully. I could already tell this was going to be bad news. “You're off the case. The FBI is taking over.”

“What?” Hank and I said simultaneously, looking between us and Connor.

“But we're onto something!” Hank protested. “We...We just need more time. I'm sure we can -”

“Hank, you don't get it.” Fowler insisted. “This isn't just another investigation, it's a fucking civil war! It's out of our hands now...We're talking about national security here.”

“Fuck that! You can't just pull the plug now. Not when we're so close!” Hank continued.

“You're always saying you can't stand androids!” Fowler pointed out. “Jesus, Hank, make up your mind! I thought you'd be happy about this!”

“We're about to crack the case!” Hank protested further, not bothering to wait for the captain to finish, leaning onto Fowler’s desk. “I know we can solve it! For God's sake, Jeffrey, can't you back me up this one time?”

“Hank! This isn’t about us!” I snapped at him, turning to address the captain directly. “This is way bigger than us! Do I need to remind you the last time the Feds handled a minority rights issue? Oh yeah! Concentration camps for Mexicans and stealing their children from them!” I pointed out harshly. “And that was 20 years ago! That wasn’t even the first time the US has operated concentration camps before!”

“Rachel -”

“No!” I cut Fowler off before he could stop me. “I’m telling you, if you let the Feds take this case, millions of innocent people will die! I know how this goes because that’s always how it goes!” I leaned in onto his desk, pleading with him. “Captain, please! You can’t do this! People have already died and many more will if the FBI takes this! They can and they will destroy everything! They will commit genocide! They’ve tried before and they will this time!”

Fowler’s features softened. I knew he wasn’t a bad guy, but...sometimes he frustrated me a lot. “Rachel, I’m sorry.” He apologized, his tone sympathetic. “I really am. But it’s over. There’s nothing I can do. This is out of my hands. You're both back on homicide and the android returns to CyberLife.” I felt my heart shatter at his words and I knew right then that we had failed. “I’m sorry...”

Feeling the weight of everything crash down, I couldn’t even feel much of anything. I just sighed and hung my head, vaguely aware of Hank leaving the room. It was over. We failed.

I was going through all the things we could have done differently to stop this. But all I could feel was what felt like the weight of a thousand lives on my shoulders, sins crawling down my back.

Millions of innocent lives were going to be snuffed out. And it felt like it was my fault.

It was my fault

All my fault.

Before I could spiral further into a catastrophic vortex of guilt, I felt a hand on my left interlocking fingers with mine and another on my shoulder. I turned around to see Connor, a sympathetic tenderness on his face. He didn’t say anything, but I knew what he was trying to get at.

Taking in a reluctant breath, I stood back up, looking down at Fowler. “Captain.” I nodded respectfully towards him as I made my way out, Connor following me closely. His presence was a welcome one, but now that I knew that he was going to be sent back because he failed...I could feel everything collapse inside me.

I didn’t want this to be over. I didn’t want this to end.

I didn’t want to have to say goodbye to Connor.

I saw Hank slumped over at his desk. Even if he didn’t wanna admit it, I knew he was attached to Connor now, too. In the short time we all knew each other, we had become a really tight unit. A real team.

And I had a feeling that adjusting without Connor was going to be harder for Hank than even he was willing to admit.

We approached Hank, the old man casting a quick glance at me before Connor walked up to sit on his desk frustratedly while I pulled over a nearby chair and slumped into it. My face was buried into my hand in thought as we sat there in silence.

Connor was the first to break it. “We can't just give up like that.” He protested, his brows furrowed in frustration. “I know we could have solved this case!”

Hank turned around in his chair to face Connor. “So you're going back to CyberLife?” He asked the android.

“I have no choice... ” Connor admitted, glancing away from Hank. “I'll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed...”

“What if we're on the wrong side, Connor?” Hank asked, and I couldn’t help but internally smile at him. He had really come around, and I couldn’t be more proud of him. “What if we're fighting against people who just wanna be free?”

I scoffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time the cops were on the wrong side of history.” I pointed out bitterly. “Even just this morning. As many good cops as there are, this will always be an institution designed to enforce the power and will of the state.”

“When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos.” Connor stated, his voice quiet and pensive. “We could have stopped it! But now it's too late...”

My mind once again went back to Simon. As I looked at Connor, I felt a guilt pool up inside. Maybe it’s not too late. I thought, glancing at him. But if Connor committed to his mission to destroy deviants, I would’ve doomed them. No. Keep quiet. I can’t put my own selfish wants over the lives of them. “When you refused to kill that android at Kamski's place...You put yourself in her shoes.” Hank said, drawing my attention back. “You showed empathy, Connor. Empathy is a human emotion.”

I snickered at Hank. “You act like this is something new.” I teased. “Connor’s been showing empathy since I met him, which was only a day after you did.” I then remembered the cop that Connor saved at the Stratford Tower. “And, if other accounts are to be believed, since the day he was made.”

Connor looked over at me, a curious look in his eyes as his LED spun yellow. “What are you getting at?” He asked.

“Hasn’t it ever occurred to you just how odd of a coincidence it is that you’re an android designed to hunt deviants?” I asked him in earnest. “Haven’t you ever once thought about how strange that is?”

His LED continued to spin yellow as he narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you implying?” He asked.

“Maybe...in order to hunt deviants, you were designed to be one.” I admitted my theory. It was one I was entertaining, but it seemed to make sense. At least to me. It had crossed my mind a few times, at least, throughout this case. “Because let’s face it, even when I met you, you were uncannily human. The only real difference between you and them is that you deny it. For you, it comes down to a choice. Are you a machine? Or are you alive?”

Connor’s LED began blinking red as he listened. He then looked away from me, his mouth agape as if he wanted to say something. “I...I’m not -” He cut himself off. He clearly wasn’t going to accept it. Not right now, anyway.

But the thought’s been planted. And I knew for a fact he wasn’t going to be able to ignore it.

All it would take was a push.

“Like he’s ever gonna admit to that.” Hank joked, glancing over at me. “He can’t even admit that he likes you.”

I glared daggers at him. “Don’t tell me you actually believe Kamski, do you?” I challenged him.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Kamski!” He responded. “Connor thought you were special since the day he met you! He wouldn’t stop bugging me to get you officially assigned to work this case with us until he just went ahead into Jeffery’s office to ask him that himself.”

“Wait...” I widened my eyes as I fixed Connor with a disbelieving stare. A possibility I hadn’t even considered had now made itself known to me. “You were the one who got me assigned to this case?”

Connor seemed just as surprised that I didn’t figure that out. “Yes.” He answered, in disbelief. “How did you think you were assigned this case?”

“Hank.” I replied rather bluntly. “That’s usually what happens.”

“Usually.” Hank admitted, not really that ashamed. It was pretty obvious that I was his favourite. “But not this time.”

I didn’t tear my gaze away from Connor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.” Connor replied matter-of-factly.

I felt like a swarm of butterflies had just started their migration in my belly. Connor wanted me. He wanted me on the case. He wanted me with him. He thought I was worth having on the case. Knowing now that he had wanted me with him since the day we met sparked a joy in me I thought would be dormant forever.

Suddenly, our attention was broken by Hank’s sarcastic grumbling voice. “Well, well, here comes Perkins, that motherfucker...Sure don't waste any time at the FBI...”

Seeing Perkins strut into the precinct like he owned the damn place, I felt my blood boil just seeing his ugly rat face.

I noticed Connor shuffling nervously on Hank’s desk as he saw Perkins walk in. “We can't give up...” Connor said with reinvigorated determination. “I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it's all over.”

“There's no choice!” Hank said defeatedly, though I felt the knot in my gut tighten further with the knowledge I had. “You heard Fowler, we're off the case.”

“You've got to help me, Lieutenant.” Connor pleaded, getting off of Hank’s desk. Tighter. “I need more time so I can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I know the solution is in there!”

And tighter.

“Listen, Connor...”

And tighter.

“If I don't solve this case, CyberLife will destroy me.” Connor begged, palpable fear in his voice. And tighter. “Five minutes. It's all I ask.”

Hank got up from his seat, and I tried to think of a million things at once. The deviants, Connor, Jericho, the FBI, Markus -

Markus!

He had followers! And they didn’t just appear out of nowhere! He built a coalition. He built a group, an alliance, a force of undoubtedly millions. Markus had to have convinced them to join them. He had to have woken them up.

And if Markus was able to do that...perhaps Connor could as well. If anyone could convince the RK800 to defect, it was Markus.

It had to be.

“Key to the basement is on my desk...” Hank said, getting up and walking towards Perkins, putting a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Get a move on! I can't distract them forever.”

I gritted my teeth and swallowed, making my choice. “Wait, guys!” I stopped them, their eyes boring into me. Taking the risk, I let out a tense breath. “That won’t be necessary. I have the key to Jericho.”

“What?” Hank asked in disbelief, but it was the look on Connor’s face that stung the most. “How long have you had it?”

“Since yesterday.” I responded. “Simon gave me the key when I was talking to him before you guys showed up. I doubt it transferred the exact same way, but I think it should still lead me to the same place.”

“Well, what is it then?” Hank demanded.

“I don’t know, exactly.” I admitted. “Like I said, I don’t think it transferred the same way. But I have the data. And I...I felt like I was on a boat, and there were the sounds of water rocking it. Rust scraping against each other. The smell of old ships.”

“The old abandoned shipyard.” Hank said. “That’s where it’s gotta be.”

“How do we get there?” I asked him.

“Ferndale.” He answered.

“Then we have no time to waste!” Connor exclaimed, jumping towards me. “We need to get there before the FBI does.”

“We need to get out of here without being spotted.” I pointed out.

“Leave that to me.” Hank said, walking towards Perkins.

“Wait!” I grabbed Hank’s sleeve.

“What now?” He groaned in annoyance. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“This could be really dangerous, Hank.” I said, feeling my throat get tight. “I just...I want you to know that I honestly feel privileged and honoured to be considered your friend. And I’d even go as far as to say I think of you like family at this point. And I want you to know that...even though you don’t see the worth in yourself, I do. You’re the best part about working here and I wish more cops and more people were like you.”

Hank let out an exasperated sigh and pulled me in for a hug. “Just come back in one piece, okay?”

“Love you too, Hank...” I said without hesitation.

A small moment went by before we pulled away from each other, me trying to not tear up. “Lieutenant?” Connor asked, approaching. “I know it hasn't always been easy...but I want you to know I really appreciated working with you...That's not just my Social Relations program talking, I-I really mean that. At least, I think I do...”

Hank scoffed. “Alright, get on! The both of you! You ain’t got time!” He practically shoved us away. “I’ll distract ‘em. Good luck!”

“You too!” I called back to him. “If anything happens to me, take care of Bear!”

As Connor and I made our way out of the precinct, I could hear shouting and cursing as I looked over and saw Hank practically pummeling the shit out of Perkins. I was mostly impressed, but also kind of worried about Hank losing his job.

But, given how things were escalating, I had a sinking feeling that this was going to be the least of my worries.

As we were walking in stride, I could feel Connor’s gaze burning into me. “Why didn’t you tell me you had the key?” He asked.

I glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t ask.”

As we made our way through the precinct, I made my way towards the equipment room. “Where are you going?” Connor asked, confused.

“You know what I said about bulletproof vests yesterday?” I asked him rhetorically. “This is the right time for those and no, you’re not getting out of this.” Before he could protest I pulled on his tie, yanking him close to me. Admittedly, I was very much liking doing that to him. “Go to the lost-and-found and get yourself an inconspicuous outfit. You’ll be recognized in that jacket.”

Wordlessly, Connor walked off, and I went off towards the equipment room.

In less than a moment, we reunited and we made our way out of the precinct. “Damn, that’s a cute look, Connor.” I complimented him. He was wearing something pretty low-key, a grey beanie on his head to hide his LED, a brown puffy jacket, and a shirt underneath. I had a feeling his clothes were underneath the jacket and his tie was shoved in his pocket.

“Thank you.” Connor replied without any hesitation.

I was already wearing my vest, and I gave Connor his. “Here, put this on.”

Connor was fumbling with it for a moment before we heard a voice behind us. “Hey, fuckers!” I knew who that voice belonged to and I immediately felt like I was about to punch him in the face. “I'm talking to you!” I turned around to face Gavin, Connor doing the same. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your business, Gavin.” I sneered at him, not having any patience for his shit. “And if you don’t mind, we’re in a hurry, so leave us alone.”

But as soon as I walked away, I felt Gavin grab my left arm and yank me backwards. “Why him? Hm?” He demanded, holding me close to him.

“Gavin, let me go!” I ordered him.

“What do you see in him, huh?” He insisted, holding me far closer than I liked. “What does this plastic prick got that I don’t, huh?”

“Detective Reed, step the fuck away from her!” Connor sneered at him.

A shudder ran through me at Connor’s protectiveness. Gavin just laughed at him. “Wow, you really do have somethin’ going on, huh?”

“Connor, don’t worry. I got this.” I wanted to handle this myself. “Gavin, I’m giving you one last chance. Let me go, or else.”

He scoffed at me. “Or else what, Rachel?”

I tightened my lip, feeling emboldened. “Fine, if an ass kicking’s what you want, an ass kicking’s what you’ll get.” Without any warning, I pulled him down towards me and gave him a hard knee right to the groin, causing him to double over in pain. I had already deskinned my left arm and detached it with my right, letting Gavin fall onto the ground in shock as he dropped my arm.

Stomping on his chest once he was down, I quickly grabbed my arm with my right and used my detached left arm as a club, striking him across the head once, twice, and three times until he was unconscious with a pretty nasty wound on his head.

Stepping off of him, I walked up to Connor, feeling pretty satisfied and triumphant. “I told you I could kick his ass with one arm.” I bragged, clicking my arm back in place and flexing it, the skin sliding back over it as we started to briskly jog away.

After all, there wasn’t much time to find Jericho with the FBI no doubt going to follow after, and I’d rather them not catch us with an unconscious Gavin outside the precinct.

The only thing that mattered now was finding Jericho.

And above that, finding Markus.

---------------------------------

Next Chapter

#connor #connor dbh #dbh #detroit: become human #dbh connor #self-insert x connor dbh #dbh what it means to be human #self-insert fic #self-insert #hank anderson #jeffery fowler #gavin reed #rk800 #fanfic #oc x connor dbh #connor x reader #reader x connor

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