#with our eyes wide open || connor collective
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It’s Time | Sidney Crosby
summary: Sidney is sent to Canada as he tries to get you back and the long awaited arrival of peanut finally happens.
request: yes/no
warnings: swearing, legal age gap (reader is 23!)
word count: 3.17k
authors note: peanut is now in our lives and we get the chance to see the semi happy ending for this weird couple! For those of you who aren’t ready to see this story end I’ve made it into a series that you can find under the ‘Crosby x Bedard sister!’ tag, so of course if you want to see some things for that then head to my asks and let your dreams go wild! For those of you who have made it this far in this series, I love you.
part one | previous part
It was like there was a silent competition between you two to see who missed the other more.
34 weeks
What Sidney didn’t think was that when he woke up he’d wake up to a phone call from you. It had been weeks since you last spoke and after trying to desperately call you each day Sidney was beginning to lose faith.
He had been in the gym when your contact info lit up his phone “fuck Bedard, I’ve missed you so freaking-” his words were quickly cut off ”y/n isn’t here you dickhead.” Connor grumbled slamming his bedroom door shut as he had to hide your phone from you.
If you had told Connor that he’d be on the phone to one of his idols growing up like this he would have sworn that you were lying “she refuses to admit that she misses you and as much as she doesn’t need you your kid does.” There was no secret that you were good on your own, it’s the reason why you were single throughout your time working with the Penguins.
Sidney rubbed his face as he listened to what your brother had to say “it’s all good her missing me but she doesn’t want to talk to me.” Sidney pointed out as you hadn’t even opened the text messages that he had sent you.
Connor let out a scoff “she’s stubborn and it’s like worse now that she’s pregnant.” He muttered to himself as he rolled his eyes “point is can you come see her and apologise or not?” He added hearing your voice come from the end of the hallway.
The older boy had to say that he appreciated the way your brother was protective over you “I can be there next week.” Sidney hated that he had training camps the entire week that he couldn’t say no to.
“Con you seen my phone anywhere?”
Your voice rang through the line as you stuck your head into your brothers room.
The younger Canadian player panicked as he hid your phone behind his back “nothing,” Sidney knew he should have listened for longer but truthfully he couldn’t, instead he pulled open his laptop looking to see which flights he could get to come see you.
He was getting his girl, one and for all.
35 weeks
Lounging in the pool of your parents lake house was your personal favourite activity to do especially now that you were heavily pregnant. Laying down on the little pool floatie as you and peanut got the chance to soak up some much needed vitamin D was like your little sanctuary that everyone knew not to bother “y/n someone is here for you!” Connor called out walking back into the house making his way to the porch “tell them I’m busy,” you groaned not wanting any company.
But of course the company had to follow Connor into the house “can we talk Bedard?” Sidney asked clutching to the blanket that you had bought peanut and forgot in Pittsburgh during your effort to leave quickly.
Being full of surprise your body shot up as you looked at him with wide eyes causing you to almost fall off of the float all together “boat,” was all you could get out as you had the keys on the table sat under one of Sidney’s shirts.
There was a collection of those in your closet and it was now all you were living in “hurt her and I’ll hurt you,” Connors warning to Sidney made you laugh as you got out of the water “let’s go before this one gets aggressive.” You teased your brother as you ruffled your fingers through his hair causing him to groan.
The Penguins player felt his heart burst watching the interaction between you and your brother. You seemed at peace with the younger Bedard until you turned to face your coworker “shall we go?” You asked spinning the keys on your finger.
Sidney furrowed his eyebrows as he followed you to the dock “are you sure you should be driving?” His voice was soft when he locked eyes with Betty your boat.
You scoffed looking back at him with a glare “I’m driving a boat, not a fucking mechanical bull.” You grumbled placing your hands on your hips as you continued to walk.
He chewed at his cheek as he realised he had fucked up “look I’m sorry,” Sidney mumbled as he watched you hop onto the boat.
It was a place you had told him so much about during your late nights staying up talking “just get on so we can talk.” You matched his quiet tone as you sighed.
That twenty minute ride to your favourite part of the lake was the longest ride of your life done in total silence “surprised to see you here.” You broke the silence getting up to sit closer to him.
Sidney was surprised when you let your knee hit his “couldn’t sleep knowing you were weren’t happy with me.” He confessed ignoring the way his body felt on fire as your fingers danced over his.
Something that you continued to hate about yourself was the way you were always scared of confrontation “look Sid you can fuck whoever you want really.” You shrugged readjusting the cap on your head “just because I’m having your baby doesn’t mean you owe me anything.” Sure you were hurt admitting that but you managed through most of that pregnancy without him.
He frowned hearing you say that “you’re the girl I want to sleep with,” his words made you laugh “you already did that.” You pointed out pointed to your belly.
The hockey player let a smile form on his face “not like that,” he sighed hooking his hand under your knee as he pulled you closer to him.
You mumbled something under your breath as you placed your hand on his chest “I want you for Monday coffees everyday, I want peanut to grow up in one house and one house only.” It felt like a punch in the gut that he was making this about the baby.
Thankfully nobody else was around as you partially wanted to cry “look if you want me for peanut then I’m happy to simply be friends.” You weren’t happy about that, of course you weren’t but with Sidney making you feel like it was what he wanted you had to accept it.
Sidney wanted you to shut up and listen as he tried to tell you how he felt “I want to do this with you and only you.” His announcement made you smile as your cheeks turned pink.
Part of you couldn’t stand how Sidney made you feel all mushy inside and you fully blamed peanut for this “really?” You giggled as he used his strength to pull you onto his lap.
He laughed as he grabbed your hat and threw it somewhere on the boat “deadly,” the hockey player let his fingers trace along your jaw.
His fingers moved to tuck your hair behind your face “you are really pretty you know that?” Sidney’s voice was deep as you felt his thighs tense beneath you.
In that moment you fully throughly about letting him fuck you senseless -another feeling you were going to blame on peanut- “Sid don’t fuck this up,” you warned letting your nose bump his as you stared at his lips.
You were close to letting out a whimper “promise you I won’t Bedard.” Sidney mumbled moving his fingers to the back of your head as he finally kissed you.
It was slow as he savoured every moment of that kiss like it was going to be the last kiss that he was ever going to get from you.
But of course the universe wasn’t going to let you enjoy the soft feeling of his lips “feel this!” You gasped pulling away to quickly grab his had that you placed on your belly as you pushed your shirt up.
It seemed that peanut wanted to say hello “you feeling neglected now?” Sidney laughed as he looked down to your stomach.
37 weeks
Sidney had been a nervous wreck for the last two weeks “good morning,” you smiled as you walked down stairs giving his lips a peck.
Since that moment in the boat you guys had been in this weird flirting stage where you two happily kissed whenever you were alone “hey Bedard,” he wrapped his hands around your waist as he took in what you were wearing.
You were in this blue bikini that made your boobs look fabulous as they were bigger than ever. It wasn’t helped by the problem where you had your shorts on that couldn’t even be zipper up your belly was that big “peanut behaving?” Sidney asked letting his hands slide down to your belly placing a kiss on it too.
Every morning that’s what Sidney did, a kiss for you and a kiss for her “thinking of going for a ride today,” you announced as you loved driving Sidney’s boat.
It should have made you laugh how Sidney drove the car and you drove the boat (even though he was perfectly capable of driving it, he let you have this one) “I wanted to ask you something first,” Sidney mumbled letting his lips hover over your lips.
You raised your eyebrows waiting for him to reveal what he wanted to say “don’t hold out on me now cap.” You felt your stomach rumble as you hadn’t eaten anything “let’s start with breakfast.” Sidney laughed letting you go as you had your usual thing of berries for breakfast.
A scoff left your lips “you can’t not tell me what you wanted to!” You complained as your lips turned into a pout.
Sidney smiled as his hand cupped the back of your neck pulling you closer to him as he got up “what are you going to do if I don’t?” The hockey player asked licking his lips as he smirked.
Part of you wanted to roll your eyes for playing his game “I wont kiss you anymore,” you announced clicking your tongue as you giggled.
He shook his head “know you like the feeling of my lips way too much.” Sidney swore he was a deadman walking when he saw you push onto your tippy toes to move your lips closer to his.
You frowned when he moved his lips further away from yours “don’t fuck with me when I’m this pregnant with your child Crosby.” You warned deciding that he couldn’t say no if you pulled the I’m carrying your child card.
It warmed the captains heart to be reminded of how you were pregnant with his kid but there was still one thing missing “I wanna date you Bedard.” Sidney confessed causing a grin to break out on your face.
Whilst you wanted to feel silly feeling your heart melt instead you giggled “you getting all soft on me Sid?” You teased seeing his cheeks turn a deep shade of red.
The hockey player let out a playful scoff “you tell anyone you get to see this side of me and I’ll deny it.” He warned bringing his lips down to yours “you think I want to date you?” You asked repeatedly blinking at him.
Safe to say Sidney was lost for words as he didn’t know what to do watching you stand there straight lipped “I’m just fucking with you.” You laughed shaking your head as you pushed yourself onto your tippy toes placing your hand on the back of his neck as you grazed his lips “you’re now my girlfriend, I’m getting more than just that peck.” The hockey player grunted giving your waist a squeeze.
All was going well for you until being pregnant decided to come back and bite you in the ass “wait,” you groaned placing your hand on his chest as you pushed him away from you.
Sidney looked at you with wide eyes “what?” He asked growing concerned “I gotta pee,” you announced drawing a laugh from his lips.
“Who would have thought that my daughter would be my cock block?”
You heard the statement causing you to let out a gasp “you better not be talking badly about my baby Sid,” you warned raising your finger at him letting your hand sit on under your belly.
He leaned against the wall seeing you break out into another giggle “what happened to needing to go to the bathroom?” Sidney asked licking his lips as your face turned into a scowl “forgot about that,” you groaned now heading to the bathroom.
“I got a good one,”
39 weeks
Being with Sidney as his girlfriend it felt like pure pleasure. You guys truthfully used this time to finish up the prep for peanuts arrival “you ready to go?” Sidney asked watching you walk down the stairs as you laughed seeing that the boy had made you one of his signature smoothies, fulled with all of the weird fruits that were apparently good for the baby.
You nodded as you smiled “excited to see your parents,” you mumbled wrapping your hand around the cup as you kissed his lips.
Sidney tried to give you the quietest two weeks leading up to peanuts arrival as he wanted you to have as much relaxation time as you could possibly get. But his mother was one person he couldn’t say no to (you were the other) and now that meant you two were going for breakfast with them “we’re already late,” the hockey player complained looking down at his watch.
It made you roll your eyes “if there is one time that they can be okay with me being late is when I’m this pregnant with their grandchild.” You pointed out sipping at the smoothie as you tucked your hair behind your ear letting the boy take note of how you were in his shirt as well as a pair of his basketball shorts.
He laughed taking the bag from your hand “let’s just make sure that we aren’t any later than we need to be.” Sidney explained walking to the door as you were hot on his tail.
Or at least that was until you felt a sharp pain in your stomach, it was different to the ones that you had been feeling throughout the morning. Of course you refused to tell Sidney because the last thing you needed was him worrying about you as he tried to wrap you in bubble wrap. You knew he didn’t do it intentionally but you had grown tired of watching him stop you from living life, yes you were still mad that he took the keys to the boat away from you.
The sound of the smoothie bottle hitting the floor made Sidney’s blood run cold “you okay Bedard?” He furrowed his eyebrows placing your bag on the ground as you went to help you.
You let out a groan as you clutched your stomach “we’re gonna have to cancel on your parents Sid,” you announced with wide eyes as you shook your head “she’s coming,” you added feeling the cold sensation of water trickling down your thighs as you lifted up the shirt your were wearing to see that there was now a wet patch that soaked your shorts.
Up until he saw the look of panick on your own face Sidney wanted to just about die at the thought of peanut arriving early, sure he was excited to see her. But the idea of actually being a dad to someone was now feeling all too real “let’s go have a baby?” His voice shook as he tried to act like he was ready to do this.
It wasn’t like he had already packed the hospital bags two weeks ago and they had been living in his car, not to mention that he already had the car seat installed too. So when you nodded and squeezed Sidney’s hand trying to avoid the pain that the oncoming contraction was sending you it made him realise that you two were bound to make it through any challenges that peanut sent your way.
39 weeks
Your body was tired as you tried to take a nap. Your mom had warned you about the toll that birthing a child has on someone but you really didn’t think that it was going to be this bad “I know your momma is sleeping right now but when she wakes up I promise that you’re going to love her.” Sidney spoke away to his daughter happily as she cooed at whatever he said to her.
Sidney smiled as he looked up to see you looking at him “hey momma,” the new nickname had you feeling like you were all fuzzy inside.
The hockey player made his way over to you “how you feeling?” He asked placing a kiss on your forehead as he sat next to you.
Nurses had been in and out of your room gushing about how cute the new family was “like I just had a baby,” you mumbled drawing a laugh from Sidney’s lips.
You couldn’t help it when your eyes were drawn to your daughter as she stared at her father “we did good,” you added realising why every parent always said that their babies were adorable because you swore that peanut was the cutest baby you had ever seen.
Sidney looked at you as he smiled “that’s all you baby,” he muttered using his other hand to hook his fingers under your jaw as he pulled you into a kiss.
It was soft letting you shut your eyes melting into it as you forgot that your daughter was in his arms “love you,”you swore his words were sent to the baby so you kept quiet “I see I how it is,” Sidney clicked his tongue causing you to look up at him “talking to me?” You asked looking back up at him.
He threw his head back when he let out a laugh “yeah!” The hockey player exclaimed causing your eyes to light up “I love you too then.” The part of you that wondered if he was saying this because you were now the mother to his child, didn’t care because you were simply so tired.
The hockey player let his fingers dance on your jaw “you know how to make a man feel good,” he mumbled making you laugh “shut up and kiss me.” Peanut watched her parents with big eyes as she smiled like she knew it was the first time that they had said I love you.
Of course that moment was never bound to last when the door bursted open “are you going to let me meet my niece or what?” Connor asked barging into the room causing you to jump away from the older boy.
A grin formed on Sidney’s face watching his family and yours follow in shortly after “wash your hands and then you can meet peanut.” The hockey player announced looking at you for confirmation that you agreed.
“come meet our baby.”
#crosby x Bedard sister!#sidney crosby#sidney crosby imagines#Sidney Crosby oneshots#imagines#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#nhl imagine#nhl oneshot#Sidney Crosby x reader#amber writes fics
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Plot Drop 003: The Trial of Tabitha Spencer Part 1
THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER...
Two shots rang out on the night as the sun finished it’s rotation around the sun. To say 2023 started off with a bang to anyone outside the Midnight Underground would earn a laugh, but for the people within it they knew just how true of a statement it was. Hollis Fiala, one of their candidates, had been shot at Thaddeus James’ new year celebration event. Word spreads like wildfire and by the time the Unaware police have finished scoping the scene and been properly frightened or bribed away by those with money to burn, rumors have already been in wide speculation.
A young wolf named Tabitha Spencer, the sister to Damian Harker’s nephew, has been detained for suspicion of attempted murder. The only people near the gun were her and Mayor Jose Alves Cruz. It comes out quickly that Jose was injured in the attack, a thrall to Hollis themself, and the tide turns just as soon. Before there has even been a trial many of those in the Underground have decided her guilty. What other sense would there be in it?
Our inhabitants, as those trained to be ever vigilant and paranoid are swift to do, construct elaborate theories about the crime and its motivations. Perhaps Karlha had orchestrated the entire event in hopes of making competition less steep. Or maybe Damian had promised his pseudo-niece something for the same. Sympathy turns to the injured heir with their iron bullet wound and you can hear whispers and praise of the elegance with which they handled the night. Even those outside the wild circle are want to give them credit lest they seem suspicious in a conspiracy themselves.
The people do not know of what you know, my dears, for they are never the wiser of The Oracle’s visions of a doomed world consumed by darkness after Karlha’s death. To them it is an isolated incident. At least, for now.
You are charged with determining, and perhaps proving, Tabitha’s innocence during the night. The charges for these crimes are heavy and it would likely be off with her head.
THE FATES ARE CRUEL AND KIND...
When asked to roll for something, the DM:
They rolled....a 19 (critical success): The people of the Midnight Underground take Hollis’ side and believe Tabitha is the shooter.
When asked to roll for choice:
Kellan, Connor, Nora, and Esme rolled highest: They were chosen as the emissaries for their respective circles.
IMPLICATIONS FOR THE GAME...
We have our Emissaries who are to be conducting interviews and collecting evidence to the best of their abilities. Should you be conducting interviews with NPCs, we will be posting the information for you on the NPC blog in interview format for you to look. Should you be conducting interviews with a PC, please decide with that person how you’re going to conduct the interview so we can compile what was said by them somewhere for eyes to look upon. For physical evidence, such as the gun, we will be opening up a channel in the discord for our four emissaries to interact with it. Below is an indication of who each Emissary will have to interview. Those bolded are NPCs.
Connor: Connor Talbot I, Catherine Talbot, Rina Mochizuki, Rosemary Loup, Matthew Coleman-Reyes, Karlha Whitlock, Tabitha Spencer, and Lilith Gaumond
Kellan: Dr. Henry Jones, Cameron Kiskadden, Elias Hart, Jose Alvez Cruz, and Damian Harker
Esmeray: Hollis Fiala and Carmen Blakely
Nora: Chloe Li, Yasaminia Ahmadi, Thaddeus James, and Sebastian Harker
Good luck my darling dears. Try not to look too closely or you’ll spin yourselves into a tizzy.
Sincerely,
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Connor Collective Timeline Summary
*Note this revolution takes place over the course of a Year. This is a bare bones summary and there is a lot of time between some Connors. Check out their individual bios for more info! (Adding as I finish them. WIP)
Connor-Tar: joins the tactical team and remains with Allan's crew. They defect when ordered to turn him in during the attempted android genocide. Like you do.
Blue is tragically broken in a traffic collision, but survives in the junkyard. He is recovered later by another Connor.
Eos is shot to death in Stratford tower while protecting Hank.
Genesis is killed by Markus in the Jericho raid after being unable to deviate in time. Recovered much later.
Recon is sent to assassinate Markus, but jumps off a roof to avoid being captured by the military. Later recovered.
Soldier is sent again to kill Markus, but he manages to deviate.
Connor-Son: is sent to assassinate Markus yet again, this time from the crowd of androids after they seem to have won. He deviates, but is taken over anyway and forced to fire. Soldier intervenes, and Markus survives.
Connors 58-60 are illegally sold to third parties. More on them later...
#with our eyes wide open || connor collective#connor collective origins#this is a revision from the old story so if you find older posts contradicting this dw about that#go with the newer content#this is a verse specific connor continuity#mild content warning#cw character death#my brother in arms || connor tar#rather i lose my limbs || connor blue#wont let you come to harm || connor eos#bullets may singe my skin || connor genesis#the mortars may fall || connor recon#huddled in the trenches || connor soldier#i never felt so much life || connor son#our eyes perfectly aligned || connor angel#gazing on the battlefield || connor infinity#our rifles blaze away || connor tribute
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Hi, you and I seem to have very similar tastes in art and in other things and as a begging artist I would like to know your art journey and any resources you used such as books and things or where you get inspiration from, thanks in advance
Hello! I'd be happy to!
I've been drawing since I was a kid, but I only started drawing seriously when I was about 12 (I wanted to become an animator, I didnt know that jobs like illustration on concept art were a thing). I never took a formal art class, expect for one that was on acrylic painting, and I didnt really learn that much there, and it was only for 4 weeks. (Maybe I'll learn to love acrylic someday, but not today).
For inspiration, I write down favorite memories of mine, and sometimes unimportant ones (memories of sitting at a gas station on a hot summer day, waiting on my dad to buy some sodas so we can get going on our trip; walking under football bleachers at night), and most times I'm a little too scared to post these because they're personal, but im working myself up to it.
I collect moodboards on interest, just whatever catches my eye, even if the aesthetics don't match. When I'm out, I take pictures of places I would like to draw later (abandoned farmhouses, old mill houses, a lighthouse far off in the water alone, a stretch of road completely covered in graffiti).
Books! Ok so I have a lot of art books but few that have actually been beneficial, so I'll post those here.
Color And Light by James Gurney: A Guide For The Realist Painter; I cannot reccomend this book more!! This book is excellent, it talks about how to paint different light conditions, and how it effects light scientifically. Very easy to understand, and Gurney is a master painter.
Adorning The Dark by Andrew Peterson. Another excellent book, and one I don't think I'll ever be over. While this is a book from a Christian standpoint, and I don't know your opinions on religion, this book for me was unputdownable. I read it cover to cover in a day, and did the same thing the next day. Reflections on self and the creative process that takes place in the mind and spiritually, and how we effect others. A simply wonderful book. Id go as far as to say life-changing.
Any Ghibli art book (I own Howl's Moving Castle, and Spirited Away.) These are excellent if youre wanting to look into illustration or character design. It doesnt give much advice, but I find myself inspired every time I open the ghibli books I have.
Sketching From The Imagination: Characters by 3d Total Publishing; this book has many MANY artists of various art styles, and they give their process and advice! Little nuggets of "Oh! Yea that makes sense." are scattered throughout the book, at least for me.
As for fiction books, I read a wide range of genres, so I can't really make a HUGE list of books I reccomend, but I can give a few that I feel have been important to me personally the last few years.
Jeff Vandermeer's Southern Reach Trilogy, and Borne Trilogy. Rick Bragg's All Over But The Shout'n, and Ava's Man, Flannery O' Connor's A Good Man Is Hard To Find, C. S Lewis's A Space Trilogy, and Madeline D'Engle's A Wrinkle In Time. Comics like Batman: The Long Halloween, Calvin and Hobbes, and Minna Sundberg's Stand Still Stay Silent have been great to read as well!
Movies and TV shows are HUGE inspirations for me, but as a general guide, I adore movies like Alien, Fury Road, Pan's Labyrinth, Lord of The Rings, Oh Brother Where Art Thou?, and TV shows like Stranger Things, Over The Garden Wall, and The Twilight Zone. Video games are important as well, like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Kentucky Route Zero, and Death Stranding.
Anyway, heres what I have to say: Use everything. Dont be afraid to deviate from your "aesthetics". Yes, you'll feel a bit lost at times, like you have no identity, but thats a good thing for growth. When I was 12, I was dead set that my thing was extremely cartoon art styles, pokemon, and drawing dragons. While these are still great and huge inpirations, if I didn't branch out, I would be stuck in a rut.
It is not important to have a set aesthetic. Youre not an aesthetic Instagram page at heart! Find what you are drawn to, what imagery catches your eye, what symbols have meaning to you. I will change throughout my life, but my core values are still there. And I think its important to understand that, to loosely quote Andrew Peterson, that self expression is an endless, and often fruitless chase. You gotta shift your direction outward, and you'll discover things about you, good and bad.
Wow, this post is getting very very long. Apologies. Anyway, one more note. Just explore. Collect things, look for details! Note that swirl in the sand, a wrinkle next to an eye, get a feel for a place or thing. I have dozens of books that make no sense together (2 books on sharks, 1 on specifically waterplants, 5 on animal species, 2 on surgery, 1 on the history of medicine, 1 on car mechanics, 1 on martial arts, 3 cookbooks, and a book on the history of wood working.) Yes, I tend to hoard books. Get a book from the library on a subject you know nothing about once a week. Glance through it, take at least 20 minutes hopping page to page, even randomly. You'll find something! Just keep your eyes open, dont stop learning! I encourage wiki rabbit holes 100%.
And please, please dont be afraid to post new things. In the end it doesn't matter if your followers are unused to the new thing you like! As long as you are conveying meaning behind what you create, you'll find your way. Im uh, still learning this. People latch onto concepts more than skill, I've found.
So yea, thats just what I have to say. Sorry for the long, LONG post. I hope this helped!!
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Prompt #1: Foster
“Go again.”
The youth looked down at the paltry pile of pebbles on his side of the dusty cavern floor and furrowed his brow in consideration.
His opponent, also stuck straddling that awkward line between boy and man, held out something enclosed in the shell of his cupped hands and waited. And waited. This far beneath Ala Mhigo the tunnels were deathly silent. Deeper in there lay a trail of torches to light the way but here there was only the flickering lantern light between them. The shadows along the walls jumped every time the candle flame spit.
“Gods’ blood, Connor! Go!” Rundulf finally exploded. The sound of his exasperation bounced off the walls of the catacombs that ran like a rabbit’s warren beneath the city.
When the Garlean Empire had finally moved in over the tattered remnants of the beleaguered city-state, the Imperial army had sealed the tombs, the last resting place of Ala Mhigan dead. To keep out the ‘rabble rousers’. It might have worked if the Empire had found and sealed all the entrances. But they had failed to understand what a labyrinth they had on their hands. Miles of tunnels going back hundreds of years. It was all too easy for an intrepid Resistance to make camp within a few long forgotten spaces. A secure place for seditious talk.
“Don’t rush me.”
Or, an idle argument between two bored adolescents attempting to stay alert with nothing but stone and dust around them.
“Pick a bleedin’ number or I swear to Rhalgr I’ll --”
“Three high.”
Rundulf grunted and opened his hands, sending a cascade of flat stones clattering to the dirt. The boys leaned over the stones, peering in the dim lantern light to see which ones had landed with their white painted faces up, if any.
Alas, only two displayed their pale faces.
“Ha! That’s another for me!” Rundulf crowed, a fist punching up into the darkness.
Shaking his head, Connor flicked a pebble from his ever-dwindling pile towards Rundulf’s own. “Gods, I hate this game. Can’t we do somethin’ else?”
Just then, beyond the lantern’s reach came the soft sound of a throat being intentionally cleared. And the game was suddenly and hastily forgotten. With eyes wide with surprise, Connor grabbed the lantern and swung it in the direction of the noise as Rundulf surged to his feet, ready for a fight.
The swinging lantern light fell on one slight and slender girl and both boys visibly relaxed. Aislinn was nearly half their size, a spindly collection of knees and elbows destined to forever be the runt among them. The antithesis of a threat.
“What’re you doin’ down here, North?” Connor sighed, lowering the light.
“Lookin’ for da.” she said simply as she made to pass them, only to have Rundulf block the way.
“You know he’s with the others. Plannin’ out next steps. He’ll be up when they’re done.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Connor laughed as he knelt down and collected the stones again in preparation for another round. “Not sure you were supposed to either. Good job, Rundulf.”
The larger boy, realizing his mistake, merely folded his arms across his chest and grunted. The less he said, the better.
“Sit and play a few rounds, Aislinn. They should be heading up soon.” Connor said, clattering the stones in his hands.
She studied him for a long moment and then wordlessly shook her head. The catacombs were as dark and foreboding as she remembered. It was bad enough that she had ventured this far on her own. When they were children she had been forced to spend a night down in this place, sharing a sarcophagus with a moldering skeleton. A fact he should have remembered just as well as her. She had no intention of staying and ending up the subject of another cruel child’s prank.
“What’re they discussing?” she asked instead.
Rundulf sullenly shrugged and broke his silence. “Probably tryin’ to figure out a abetter way to get information out to the other cells. Last two runs didn’t go so well.”
Aislinn peered down the tunnel. “They aren’t choosin’ the right people.”
“Says you.” Connor snorted.
“I do.” she replied, turning that unerring gaze back on him. It was unsettling. The way she spoke so flat. She was too serious by half. It was too old an expression set in too young a face and it crawled under his skin. A part of him was almost certain she knew it too.
“Suppose you know who they should send.”
She jutted her chin up. “I could do it.”
Rundulf’s guffaw echoed off the stone. “Don’t think they’re that desperate yet.”
“I just caught you two unaware. And you’re supposed to be on watch. I coulda snuck right past and you’d have kept playin’ your game.” she countered.
Rundulf opened his mouth to reply but Connor held up a quelling hand. “We’re flattered, Aislinn but we ain’t exactly Imperial patrols now, are we? Those runs are serious. You need your wits about you the entire time.”
“Are you explainin’ a run to me like I haven’t been here just as long as you?” Aislinn asked, her question more of a barbed statement than anything.
Her tone must have gotten through, for in the lantern light she could see the tips of Connor’s ears go red with embarrassment.
“Clearly someone needs to. Your da is never goin’ to let you go. No matter how much you keep harpin’ on him. It’s gettin’ pathetic.”
Aislinn blinked at him. The only sign that his words had struck true. He regretted them the moment they were out of his mouth. He was forever doing the wrong thing when it came to her. Forever the arse.
Wordlessly, she turned and retreated out of reach of the lantern light, back the way she had come. He groaned under his breath and hung his head.
“Look, maybe it needed to be said.” Rundulf said, returning to his side of the makeshift playing field.
“Shut up.”
“Coulda let someone else do it though.”
“Shut up.”
“Fine. Go again.”
With an air of resignation Connor held the stones out over the floor when there came the sudden sound of swift steps hitting the dirt. Once again Connor and Rundulf sprung up but Aislinn was quicker. One stride, two, a dodge to the left, a duck under Rundulf’s swinging arm and she breezed past them, down the corridor towards the meeting of generals.
“Gods damn it!”
She heard them giving chase and almost laughed. In a world where it seemed everyone was bigger and stronger, Aislinn had learned to be faster. They would never win in a race against her. She sailed down the torchlit passage with an elated sort of satisfaction.
The three careened around the bend, Aislinn remaining just frustratingly out of reach until they burst into the large burial chamber at the end of the tunnel. The men and women gathered within turned in haste towards the interruption. The slithering sound of several swords leaving their scabbards drew Aislinn up short with Rundulf and Connor stumbling behind her in their effort not to bowl her over.
“Hold.”
“It’s just a couple of young ones.”
“Bloody hells, aren’t those th’ ones you put on watch, Jorund? Fat lot o’ good it did.”
Winded, her wide eyes took in the gathering amidst the flickering torchlight and for a sparse moment she regretted the impulse that had driven her here. No. A small voice inside refused to let her back down. She was tired of sitting on the side lines. Tired of watching the others do their part while hers seemed to always be to sit at home and anxiously wait for their return. Passed over time and again. She could do something. She could be useful. Why couldn’t anyone see that?
“I can do it.” she said, hating the way her voice sounded so small in the cavernous chamber. She shook her head and tried again. “I can do it. I can make the run.”
“Aislinn?” her father’s voice rumbled the way it always did but in this space it seemed to reverberate. He was a wall of a man and he didn’t so much push through the others as much as they parted for him. Thick arms folded across the barrel of his chest as he stared down at her. Looking into his storming eyes she knew there would be a talk about this later.
“You’re looking for people to make the run, aren’t you?” she pressed. “To pass information to the cells outside? I can do it.”
“No.” Jorund ground out.
“Yes, I can. I made it past those two. Probably could’ve snuck right by without them lifting their heads.” she waved an arm back towards Rundulf and Connor who stood catching their breath. They passed each other a dark look. “I’m quick. I’m nearly invisible. No one pays me any mind. And those patrols aren’t going to be looking for someone like me. They’re not going to suspect me of carrying Resistance intel.”
There was the briefest pause of silence and then, “She makes a good point, Jorund.” one of the other men spoke up.
“I said no.” Jorund snapped his head towards the man, glaring in his direction.
“We’ve been sending our boys who could fight if it came down to it but maybe that’s the problem. They look like they could fight. Empire ain’t gonna look twice at this wisp of a girl.” he continued on, undeterred.
“And if she runs into trouble?” a woman next to him countered.
“You heard her, she can run.”
“She can outrun two boys, not a imperial patrol, Bernier. I don’t know about you but I’m not comfortable sending a girl headlong into the waiting arms of Garleans.”
Behind her, Aislinn heard Connor make a low noise in the back of his throat that sounded distinctly like an ‘I told you so’ to her.
“Oh, but sending our boys is alright?”
“Don’t pull that shite. I know as well as anyone here what a patrol will do to the girl if they get their hands on her.”
“I’m tellin’ you, they ain’t gonna be looking twice.”
“Quiet.” Jorund’s voice, instead of rising to meet the others, had grown soft and still. It brought an immediate halt to any conversation. He stared down at Aislinn with a dark sort of anger but she saw something behind that. Something raw and broken. Something that told her he would forever see her as the child she had been, the little girl he had bounced on his knee. And any hope she had fostered of taking a meaningful part in this Resistance faded to nothing. She knew his answer before he even opened his mouth.
“She’ll get caught. And do you think she’ll hold up under questioning? Or do you think she’ll spill every little detail she knows and bring the Empire down on us? We’re the only ones feedin’ th’ others intel from the inside. We can’t let something like tha’ happen.” he growled and though he spoke to the others, he kept his flinty gaze trained on her, hammering the words home. Willing her to understand once and for all. “She’s too much of a risk. Send Connor.”
------
(The result of Connor’s run can be found here.)
#ffxiv writing#ffxivwrite2021#Prompt 1#Foster#Aislinn North#her da#always making the wrong decisions
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sick Connor for the ask prompt? 👀
//oooh? I like this
//Android Connor with a Virus
Hank was widely out of his depth. Connor had contracted a virus from one of the computers in evidence in the DPD. It was a failsafe of some kind that the perp had stuck on it in case an android tried to investigate her computer. Hank hated seeing him like this. In the android equivalent of a fevered haze. His soulful brown eyes coming in and out of focus, synthskin flickering on and off. He tried answering Hank the first couple of times he had checked in, but what had come out the first time was a loud blast of static, the second time was a high pitched tone that had sent both Hank and Sumo out of the room for the sake of their hearing. Hank didn’t know what to do.
There was Kamski obviously, but the idea of taking Connor back to the Villa left a bad taste in his mouth. He also didn’t want to come to owe the eccentric genius a favor later on. Jericho then? Chloe was there, she knew just about all there was to know about androids, being the first of them. Could he get Connor to the car? Did he really have a choice? He didn’t know what this virus was doing to him, Nines had offered to interface but that was too big of a risk for Hank to be comfortable with. He peeked back into the living room to find Connor without his skin and brown eyes staring at nothing again. He needed to call Josh.
He opened his phone and hit the android’s contact, he hoped he wasn’t interrupting anything by calling this early in the day, but this was an emergency and he needed help. Josh answered almost immediately.
“Hank?” Concern laced his voice. Hank couldn’t hear anything in the background so Hank assumed he was in Josh’s head for the time being. He had probably interrupted him at work then, “Is something wrong?”
“Its Connor.” He said in a rush, “At worth this morning he interfaced with a computer in the evidence lock up and something is wrong. Its a virus I think.... he’s there sometimes but most if the time his eyes are just hollow. I tried checking in on him but I got static the first time and an electronic screech the second. I don’t know what’s wrong and I can’t move him on my own because I don’t want to do anymore damage. Just, I’m also worried about it getting transferred to one of you but, you guys are the only ones I trust with this.”
“We’ll be careful Hank. Don’t worry alright?” Josh’s tone was placating and reassuring, “Markus, Simon, and I are on our way.”
Hank breathed a small sigh of relief, he didn’t know how this would go, but he at least knew Connor was in good hands. “Thank you.”
Josh hummed in response before he hung up. Hank tried to collect himself and made his way to the living room. Connor’s eyes were still lifeless and his LED was strobing red, yellow would come through in brief flashed but it never stayed. Sumo was sitting in front of the couch with his head resting on Connor’s stomach. The android was laid out on the couch, he had planned to go into stasis and try and fight off whatever this was, but they hadn’t been quick enough and the virus had taken hold. The synthskin was gone on the parts of him Hank could see, and the serial number branded into his cheek glared back at the older detective. It wasn’t as unsettling to see him like this anymore, what was unnerving Hank this time was the circumstances surrounding it.
He reached out and squeezed Connor’s stiff hand hoping he could feel it wherever he was within the confines of his mind, “You’re gonna be alright Con.”
The 54 at the end of his serial number was an ugly reminder of the things he had come back from. The stress testing at CyberLife that still had him waking up on red some nights, Daniel and plummeting off that tower, the investigation, Amanda, the revolution, and this hopefully. The things he had been through Hank wouldn’t wish on anyone else, and if he could he would undo it for Connor too. He didn’t deserve that. After the cruelty he had been through he deserved more than this. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the knock at the front door and Sumo’s responding bark. Hank let go of Connor’s hand and answered the door. He was surprised to see Chloe at the door. She smiled kindly at him and he moved out of the way so they could come in.
“He’s on the couch. He wanted to try to go into stasis before the worst of it set in.” He said dumbly. He moved through the living room to put Sumo in his bedroom so he wasn’t under foot. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust the androids’ ability to navigate around the massive dog, it was that he didn’t trust how Sumo would reaction under a combination of stress and unfamiliar company reaching for his best friend. “The drive home took too long I think...”
He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned and found Simon, “This isn’t your fault Hank. we’ll get him back to Jericho and get this figured out. I promise.”
Hank nodded, he knew that, but he still felt responsible. “I know, I just worry. I could have just had tech look at it and he wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Hank, look at me.” Simon’s voice didn’t leave much room for argument so he looked back toward the house keeping android instead of in the living room where Chloe was typing away at a laptop that was hooked up to Connor, “He would have looked at it anyway. This way you were here when something went wrong, because of you he isn’t going through it alone. He has a good friend in you. Remember that.”
Chloe worked on the laptop for about an hour, eventually she shook her head and closed it. That wasn’t a good sign, she stood up and smoothed out her shirt, she still dressed professionally, but tended to avoid dresses and skirts now Hank had noticed. She said something over their link and Markus and Josh moved to pick up Connor’s stiff form. She made her way to Hank and ran one of her hands through her ponytail. She took a moment to mull over her words.
“I have good news, I’ve seen this before and I think we can fix it at Jericho.” She looked down, “I can’t say for sure how many of his memories he will get back though, he’s about halfway through a reset.” Hank must have made some kind of face because he took one of his hands in both of hers. “We’ll fix this Hank. Trust me.”
Simon squeezed his shoulder, “You three take him, back to Jericho, I’ll stay with Hank for a while. When North gets back fill her in as well please.”
Chloe nodded. She squeezed Hank’s hand one last time and then followed Josh and Markus out after she had grabbed her things.
Hank remembered letting Sumo out of the room and into the yard, but the things between that and arriving at Jericho after Simon had gotten a call was a blur. Now he was pacing the waiting room of the android equivalent of a hospital. North was watching him. Every so often she would head back to where they working on Connor, and when she would come back her face would be pinched with worry. Eventually she sighed and stepped into Hank’s path. He stopped and she put her hands on his shoulders.
“For fuck’s sake sit down. You’re gonna wear a path into the floor.” She turned him and guided him over to the chairs. “They said it will be about an hour before he’s online again. They’re just making sure the virus is completely gone and didn’t bring anything else back online.”
She meant Amanda, he knew that. Connor could undo everything they had fought so hard for if she got a hold of him again. North distracted him by talking about the things Jericho was working on. A lot of it was political, which was a bore to him, but a good distraction from his worry. They were also working on getting android friendly apartment complexes set up and working on getting job fairs set up for both humans and androids alike. He was glad to hear how much progress was being made. It didn’t feel like an hour had passed when Simon came down the hall into the waiting room.
“He’ll be waking up soon, if you want to come back.” Simon smiled as Hank stood, “We’re gonna keep him a few days to make sure everything is how it’s supposed to be, and to make sure he rests.”
They followed Simon back. It looked like a hospital room the only difference was the lack of sterile smell. He was still hooked up to a thirium drip and there were machines monitoring his vitals. His synthskin was back and his LED was on a steady cycle of blue, he looked normal, not like he had just come out of android brain surgery. It was jarring, that after all the fear and panic, he was just back to normal. He was relieved to have Connor back.
“You’re thinking very loudly Lieutenant.” Connor’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he found himself smiling when he looked into vibrant brown eyes, “The virus is gone and everything is where its supposed to be Hank.” He followed it up with that stupid wink of his, and Hank knew they were in the clear.
Hey stayed for a few hours, until he needed to get back to Sumo.
Over the next few days he received pictures from Connor as well as everyone else. The first couple days were him relaxing, helping Markus paint, helping North with paper work. The rest were from Connor usually featuring him getting in some kind of trouble. Likely for not taking it easy. His favorite though was from Simon, it was of Connor and Chloe singing as Markus played the piano. North was dancing with Josh in the background. It was good to have him back.
@i-am-therefore-i-fight
(Prompt from this list)
#Canonverse short#'short'#dbh fic#dbh#hank#dbh hank#connor#rk800 connor#hank and connor#jericrew#dbh jericrew#ask event#ask panda#panda has all the answers!#90 follower ask event!#90 Followers!!!
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The Mortifying Ordeal of Caring: A DBH oneshot
Gavin and Nines have been working together for nearly a year now and dating for more than half of it, but the suggestion of moving in together has Gavin anxious about the bad habits he’s only just managed to kick and that he fears could come back at any moment.
To his own great discomfort he realizes that—unlike most things in his past—he cares too much about his relationship with Nines to just run away from it, leading him to hunt down a real life professional (android) therapist to give it to him straight and tell him once and for all if he’s too messed up to really be good enough for Nines in the long run. (Or if he maybe has a chance at actually becoming a better person.)
“Gavin Reed?”
Gavin stood up fast enough to wack his leg on the low waiting room coffee table, making him wince.
Luckily the sharp new pain in his shin was easily stuffed down underneath the sheer terror that had been rising in his gut since he’d awoken two hours before his morning alarm and been unable to get back to sleep.
“That’s- Um, that’s me.” He coughed, having to clear his dry throat halfway through the first word.
Was not being able to speak properly enough of a screw up to justify leaving? He could probably bear the shame of running out of the office now, right?
But the android just smiled warmly and held the door open for him. “Come on in Gavin, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!”
Gavin teetered on the edge on flight for another instant that felt like an eternity before gritting his teeth, ordering himself to man up, and stiffly walking back into the office with the same care he’d take entering an uncleared area with a reported active shooter on the loose.
But once inside the office he realized it didn’t look much like an office at all. He’d been expecting some clean lined minimalist space with the stereotypical red couch that cartoons had taught him to expect, but this room instead seemed...cozy.
There was a couch, but it was worn in and brown, not an ostentatious slick velvet red. A rolling chair was beside it, presumably for the therapist. On one wall was a collection of drawings scattered with stickers, and against the other wall stood a low bookshelf filled with baskets of toys.
“You, uh, you get a lot of kids in here?” He asked stiffly, gingerly sitting in the exact middle of the couch on the extreme edge of the cushion.
Beside him on the couch was a small novelty pillow covered with blue and purple sequins which he carefully ignored.
“I do.” The android said, closing the door behind them and taking a seat on the rolling chair, relaxing into it and leaning against one of the arms. “Most of my clients are adults, but many of the more complex situations I work with since the revolution are android children with human parents. Having toys for them helps ease things a bit when we talk, and I’ve found my adult clients don’t mind either.”
“Shit. I didn’t even think about kid androids.” Gavin said, eyes wide as he stared at the shelf. “Fuck, how does that even- uh, sorry about the swearing, I, uh...”
“While we’re here together I don’t want you to worry about censoring yourself.” The android said easily. “If you need to swear in order to best get your thoughts and feelings out, then I want you to swear up a storm. I know this is our first time meeting, and sometimes it can take a few tries to find a therapist that best meets your needs specifically, but while we’re here today I want you to feel as comfortable as possible.”
Right. Like feeling comfortable was going to happen.
It suddenly occurred to Gavin that she hadn’t pulled out the large notepad and pen he’d assumed all therapists scribbled away on during meetings.
“Are you recording this?” He blurted out, cheeks turning red as he tried desperately to think if that was an offensive question. “I mean, just, you don’t have a notebook and I know you probably gotta take notes, but if I’m gonna talk I’d rather you didn't record anything, you know? Or like, at least not without me knowing? Sorry if that’s a bad question or whatever, I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, I’m sorry.”
“Not a bad question at all, this is a new experience for you, so it would be unfair for either of us to assume you already knew everything.” She said gently. “I don’t record sessions unless I ask the client for permission first. I may make some notes after a session, but I generally prefer to be in the moment so that our conversation can flow more naturally and you feel like you have my full attention.”
“Okay. Yeah, that’s good I guess.” Gavin said, his gaze now trained on the floor.
“So Gavin, what is it you’re hoping to gain from our sessions together?” She asked, watching him.
At least her gaze somehow didn’t feel intense. That and Gavin had the feeling she would wait as long as he needed to get his words together, which was great since it took nearly two full minutes.
Usually when he was uncomfortable he could fall back on sharp insults or biting sarcasm to shield him, but he’d promised himself he’d give this an honest try after managing to drag himself in and that meant not resorting to his usual cop-outs.
“I have a boyfriend.” Gavin finally managed to spit out after a mortifyingly long silence of throat clearing.
“Congratulations.” The therapist said with a smile. “Can you tell me a little bit about him?”
“His name is Nines, we’ve been dating for, uh, seven months now I think? And he’s an android.” Gavin said, palms up and hands open. He found himself impossibly hoping that alone would miraculously explain all his issues to the therapist without him having to wrangle together more words.
“That does explain why you would seek me out as a therapist.” She said, her smile a little wider than it had been so far. “I haven’t had many new lone human clients since the revolution.”
“I wanted to make sure I got someone who really understood, you know?” Gavin said. “I didn’t want to waste time on some doc who still thinks androids aren't people or some shit. Plus I figure an android would be a better help for me getting better about...certain stuff than a human would. Better perspective on things, you know?”
“What model is Nines?” The therapist asked, nodding. “That’s always an important bit of context for me.”
“An RK900.” Gavin said, clearing his throat and finding himself watching the therapist’s LED, which indeed flickered yellow before she got it under control.
“I’ve never had the chance to meet someone who’s that model before.” She said, her eyes a bit wide.
“He’s the only one out right now, his series got put on hold after, you know, everything.” Gavin said, waving a hand vaguely. It felt much easier to talk about Nines instead of himself. “They released him to our precinct as a prototype since we were the ones who tested the first RK800 too, Connor. You’ve probably heard of Connor actually, he was all over the news during, you know...”
Another vague hand wave.
“Anyway, I got assigned Nines as my partner—I’m a detective by the way—which I’m pretty sure was because my boss hates me, and Nines and I hated each other too for like a month or something, but then we started not hating each other so much, and he’s really amazing actually, and you wouldn’t really think he’s caring since he looks so fucking scary when you first see him, and he can rip the door off a car door like no problem and everything too.”
He could feel himself starting to ramble out of sheer nerves, but found himself unable to stop now that the words had finally started.
“But he’s actually really caring and sweet and looks out for me without making me feel like it’s a problem? And right before we started dating he found this kitten in a rain gutter and took it in and we started teaming up to take care of it and whatever cause I’ve already got two cats. And anyway we’re dating now and I’ve never dated someone I care about this much before, and I feel like I’m always about to fuck it up, and the other day we were talking about maybe moving in together which I know sounds kinda fast but it feels right for us, and it sounded awesome when we were talking about it, but then afterward I started feeling like shit about it, and I’ve never really been good for anyone ever and I’ve got so many issues and I just don’t know how I can possibly be good enough for him long term, you know?”
Gavin rubbed his arm as he forced his ramble to an end, his panic having risen slightly the longer he went, sure the android was going to cut him off any second.
But instead she just nodded, eyebrows raised, but seeming understanding. “Sounds like you’ve really got a lot on your mind, Gavin.”
“Yeah.” He said weakly.
“Well first of all, thank you for sharing this with me.” She said very sincerely. “It sounds like you’re doing a lot of soul searching and feeling vulnerable right now, and I’m glad you trust me enough to share.”
“Well, I mean it’s your job, right?” Gavin shrugged, feeling somehow embarrassed at being thanked for spilling his guts. “If I’m working a case I want all the evidence I can get so I can solve it, I figure it’s the same for you and I’d be an idiot if I tried to keep it back, right? Be a waste of my money not to help you do your job right.”
She chuckled. “That’s definitely one way to look at it, though often most of what I do involves helping people solve the puzzle themself.”
Well that sounded like bullshit to Gavin, she wasn’t even going to fix his problems for him?
“So,” She said. “What I’m hearing is that you are currently in a relationship that you value very much with someone who you feel values you back, and now that you two are coming up on a big relationship milestone you’re starting to have doubts and feel afraid that you aren’t good enough for him? Is that right?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Gavin said, not particularly liking hearing it said so plainly, but relieved at least to have communicated it well enough.
“What are some of the reasons that make you doubt yourself?” The therapist asked. “Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and it sounds like maybe you’ve got some weaknesses you’re noticing more and wanting to improve if you’ve made the step to come in and see me.”
“Anger issues, rudeness, occasional insubordination.” Gavin said, reciting the most popular topics in his disciplinary file. He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze wandering to the bookshelf.
“And in your personal life?” She asked, clearly seeing through his strategy.
“I don’t know.” Gavin said, hedging as he unconsciously reached for the sequin pillow, fiddling with the edge.
He knew this was probably the part where he was supposed to say well doc, it all started with my dead mom and abusive, alcoholic dad... But despite his earlier claim that he wanted to hand over all the evidence, he found himself suddenly balking.
“I, uh, I don’t really date a lot.” He said, feeling like he was prying the words out of himself. “I’m more of a one night stand kind of guy. I don’t like people thinking I owe them anything.”
He scruffed his fingers through the pillow’s sequins, flipping them from blue to purple and back as he was silent for a long minute, letting his thoughts wrestle themselves out.
“I’m angry a lot.” He finally managed. “Sometimes I try working on it, like when I was in college or when I first joined the force. But then I get tired or forget I guess and I get just as bad again. Or, you know, something happens.”
Like when Hank had slipped into alcoholism after his kid died and Gavin had handled his old friend’s trauma in the worst way possible because of his own issues.
“Would you say that’s your biggest concern?” The therapist asked, considering him without an ounce of judgement in her gaze. “That you’ll revert to old negative behaviors as your relationship with Nines progresses?”
“I guess.” Gavin said, starting to scrape all the sequins on the left side of the pillow blue. “I uh.” He cleared his throat. “I think I’m extra worried because...because he’s an android. I was really...not great about androids before we met. He’s the one that helped me get my head on straight about it all, you know? So I guess I’m extra worried about going back to how I was because of that. He deserves better than that, and if it’s a lost cause I’d-”
He ducked his head, coughing and scrubbing at something in his eye.
“I, uh, I guess that’s why I’m here. I wanted to get a professional opinion on if I’m too screwed up or not. If I gotta...gotta let him go or whatever I need to do it before we’re both in too deep. I can’t move in with the guy and realize a week later that it was a mistake, I won’t do that to him. He deserves the best, and if I can be that I want to be, but if not I don’t want to hurt him. You know?”
The therapist watched him quietly with a softly understanding expression, her LED flickering blue.
“Have you talked to Nines about this yet?” She asked. “It seems like you two must have a strong relationship if you’ve already overcome so much together and work together professionally.”
“God, no, I haven’t.” Gavin shook his head, grimacing. “I mean, well, kinda? I mean, he knows about my issues obviously, and he knows all about my parents and everything. I think maybe he probably knows I’m nervous about moving in together, but he doesn’t know I’m here doing this. I mean, maybe he does, he is the world’s most expensive detective.” He said with a chuckle.
“Is there a reason you haven’t talked about it with him yet?” She asked gently.
Gavin felt himself blush a little, picturing Nines’ unimpressed but still caring expression all too well. “Uh, probably because he’d tell me it’ll be fine, that we’ll work through whatever happens together. And that he’s put up with my shit too long already to let me go so easily now.”
The therapist smiled at that. “It sounds like he’s as dedicated to you are you are to him.”
“I guess, yeah.” Gavin said, looking at the pillow.
“It sounds like your main fear is that you’re afraid that you’ll revert to a past version of yourself that you don’t like very much anymore, but it also sounds like you’ve already made some incredible personal steps recently that already put you far apart from the old Gavin, is that right?”
“Well sure, old me never managed to get himself in to see a shrink, no matter how many people told me to.” Gavin said wryly.
“Precisely. And it sounds like you have something and someone you value enough to really put in the effort to make a change. And most importantly,” Her gaze got a little more serious. “It sounds like you’re changing yourself because you are growing and realizing that you want to be better. Putting the responsibility on your partner to make you better is unhealthy, but working to improve yourself because you’re no longer satisfied with the status quo is admirable. Even just the fact that you would be willing to let him go if you wouldn’t make him happy despite how badly you want it to work out says a lot about your motives.”
“Yeah?” Gavin asked, for some reason feeling a little like he might cry.
“You’re right in knowing that change isn’t easy, breaking old habits and thought processes takes a lot of hard and consistent work, but genuinely wanting to change is the first and hardest step.” She said with a nod. “The fact that you’re here and willing to put in the work to make it stick is a huge deal Gavin, and if you are willing to put in that work then I have no reason to think that you won’t succeed. It’s never easy and there will sometimes be some setbacks of course, but you’ll have all the resources you need to work through it and succeed.”
“O-okay.” Gavin said, voice stupidly fragile. “That’s good I guess. Yeah. Good. That’s good to hear.”
“I think my first homework assignment for you though will be to talk to Nines about your concerns and be honest about your fears about this big potential change.” She said, her smile almost teasing, but not quite. “It’s normal to feel nervous about important relationship milestones, but it can also be an opportunity for both of you to grow closer and learn about each other. Does that sound fair?”
“Yeah, that’s fair. I can do that.” Gavin said, clearing his throat and pulling out his phone to make a reminder that he definitely didn’t need. “I guess talking about my feelings shouldn’t be that much of a surprise for therapy homework, huh?”
“Perhaps not.” She chuckled. “As for the rest of our time together today, I’d like to learn more about you so that we can start getting to know your old Gavin habits better. That way we can tackle them in the best way possible. For the rest of this session and our next visit I’d like to hear everything you feel comfortable telling me that you think is relevant.” She tilted her head a bit. “That is assuming of course that you choose to continue our visits, otherwise I’d be glad to refer you to some other android therapists you might be interested in visiting.”
“Yeah no, I’m coming back, don’t worry.” Gavin said hurriedly, in that moment realizing that he absolutely would be. “I'm not ditching you for another therapist, otherwise I’d have to do the whole almost crying thing again, right? What’s the point in that?”
“Well I'm happy to hear that, Gavin.” The therapist said warmly.
Gavin realized with a silent groan that he didn’t even remember her name, if he’d ever paid attention in the first place after looking up a nearby well rated android therapist online.
“And don’t hate me for this, but I forgot your name already.” Gavin said, trying to sound as not guilty as possible.
“It’s Amelia.” She said with a smile. “You can call me that or Amy if you like.”
“Amy. I can remember that. Amy.” Gavin said with a nod, forcing the name into his long term memory. “So, uh, where should I start?”
“How about you tell me more about Nines?” Amy suggested. “I’d love to hear more about how the two of you managed to end up together.”
Gavin grinned. “Now that I can talk about for hours.”
#dbh#Detroit: Become Human#RK900#Gavin Reed#Reed900#more swears than I usually write because Gavin is a gremlin who will not be overly censored and his therapist is supportive#wit writes#been wanting to write something for DBH for aaaaaages
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dance with somebody (ch. 19)
start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 18
Dex drives him to the airport.
Even though it's still too fucking early o'clock, Whiskey feels wide awake. He didn’t think he would – it’s not exactly like he got an abundance of sleep, last night. He’s supposed to be joining the Aeros for their practice, right after lunch, and unfortunately, he highly doubts this nervous energy is going to last him until then.
Whiskey closes his eyes, breathes in and out. It’s fine. It will be fine. Somehow.
"Hey," Dex says carefully.
"I'm okay." Whiskey forces his eyes back open. "Thank you for doing this. I’m so sorry it had to be this fucking early."
"No problem," Dex tells him firmly. "Just remember – if you need to get out of there, for any reason, don’t hesitate to call. Alright? I promise I’ll drive right down and rescue you.”
Somehow, that actually makes Whiskey smile.
"Sure. It's literally on the other side of the country, but sure."
"Just a few hours behind the wheel," Dex replies decisively, almost like it could truly be that simple. Like he actually means it. "Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you talked to Jack, yet?"
Wait. What?
"Zimmermann?" Whiskey asks doubtfully, and watches in disbelief as Dex nods. "Why would I… Dex, I don't actually know Jack Zimmermann. I've spoken to him once, maybe twice in my life."
“He’s Samwell Men’s Hockey alumni, isn’t he?” Dex points out. “And obviously, he knows more about these things than any of us. He could definitely help you get some perspective.”
“Maybe, but I can’t just… It’s not like I’ve even got his number.”
“Do you mind if I talk to him, then?” Dex suggests. “I’m sure he’d have your back, Whiskey. And if there’s ever a time when you should rely on all of your support systems, I think it’s probably now.”
“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Whiskey agrees, somewhat tersely. It goes without saying that talking to Jack equals getting Bitty in the loop, and Whiskey’s not sure if he’s completely ready for that, just yet. “You know, it’s really okay if… I mean, Jack Zimmermann is probably very busy.”
“Just leave it to me.” If Dex picks up on Whiskey’s discomfort on the subject, he doesn’t show it. “We should probably also consider how much I should tell the team, while you’re away? They’re bound to have some questions.”
Whiskey closes his eyes again, just briefly. Fuck. The team. Tango and Ford. Louis, Hops and Bully. Chowder and Nursey. Joyo and Jader. Pips. God fucking damnit.
“Tango and Ford already know,” Whiskey says, as evenly as he can manage. “As for the rest, could you just… Try to say as little as possible? At least for now.”
Dex takes a moment before he replies.
“They’re all going to be happy for you,” he says carefully. “You know that, right? Sad, too, and in some cases pretty fucking devastated. But happy, ultimately.”
“Maybe, yeah.” Whiskey attempts a casual shrug that he knows Dex will see right through. “I just think, if I’m really doing this, then I’m going to need to tell them all myself. So for now, just say that something came up and that I will be back on Saturday.”
“Alright,” Dex agrees. His tone is a lot gentler than before. “Sounds good.”
Whiskey nods, once.
They don’t talk much more for the rest of the drive.
Emily has booked Whiskey a first-class ticket, and that should be exciting or at least somewhat distracting, but it’s not. Whiskey barely takes in his surroundings as he moves through priority boarding and fully reclines in his very spacious seat. He manages to sleep a little on the plane, so at least that’s something.
A bored-looking driver collects Whiskey from the airport, and then they’re off straight towards the rink. Whiskey grits his teeth as he steps out of the car. This is it. This is actually fucking it.
Someone is waiting for him by the entrance. It’s one of the players Whiskey certainly knew by name even before he obsessively googled the Aeros’s current roster, the night before. Walt ‘Mickey’ Davis, team captain of the Aeros and one of the highest ranked defensemen in professional hockey.
Whiskey takes a breath. No big deal. Absolutely no big deal at all.
“I hear you’ve had a bit of a whirlwind, these past twelve hours,” Walt greets him. His handshake is firm, and Whiskey immediately likes the steady way he meets Whiskey’s eyes. If Walt Davis is at all concerned with the fact that two of his best forwards are out due to a broken collarbone and a torn meniscus, respectively, he certainly doesn’t show it. “It’s Connor Whisk, right? Let’s see what we can do with that. I go by Mickey.”
“I know,” Whiskey says, only to immediately feel stupid. Which, in itself, is stupid – the only reason he’s here is because he’s been explicitly asked to come, so if he somehow makes an utter fool of himself it’s actually kind of on them. Besides, all of this is just more hockey, isn’t it? Whiskey knows hockey. How fucking hard can it be? “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m really looking forward to getting on the ice with you guys.”
“Polite, eh?” Mickey smiles. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in as best as we can, before practice. I have to warn you, though – Ducky has this slight obsession with the Samwell NCAA team. He might have one or two questions. Just let me know if you ever need him to back off.”
Whiskey blinks. Right. What’s one more utterly baffling thing to navigate.
Ducky, it turns out, has a lot more than two questions. He instantly reminds Whiskey of Tango in the best way possible, which unfortunately makes Whiskey feel nauseous all over again – what the fuck is he even doing here – but he kind of also reminds Whiskey of Bitty in a way that calms him slightly, and of Chowder in a way that almost makes him smile.
“So obviously, there’s been a lot of talk,” Ducky says, after Whiskey has apparently satisfied his curiosity on Samwell’s defensive strategy during last season’s playoffs, “About Eric Bittle. You played with him, right?”
Whiskey stills.
“Uh, yeah. For two years.”
“That long, huh.” Ducky grins. “So, like, is there any chance you’ve got some intel on the whole jam situation?”
“Ducky,” Mickey says, somewhat warningly.
“No, I swear, it’s a whole thing!” Ducky insists. “I used to play with Poots on the Falconers, okay, and I’m telling you, Poots won’t fucking shut up about it!”
Slowly, Whiskey exhales.
“The jam is a whole thing,” he offers tentatively. “But, it’s not... I mean, Bitty’s jam is the greatest, yes, Poots is absolutely onto something there. It’s just, did he really not mention the pies?”
Ducky’s eyes widen.
“Oh my God. There’s pies, too?”
“Dude,” Whiskey says. He actually smiles. “The pies are where it’s really at.”
“Our nutritionist is gonna be all over this,” someone chirps – Lacer, if Whiskey’s not entirely mistaken. God, he’s gonna need fucking flashcards. "Are we talking, like, blueberry or apple, here? Or is there any chance for apricots?"
Somehow, inexplicably, the conversation about pie lasts all the way until they're lacing up their skates. It's only then that Whiskey realises they've talked a lot about Bitty, and at one point little about Jack, but not for one single second about Bitty and Jack. It just hasn't come up, even once. Whiskey's not entirely sure if that should make him feel relieved, or concerned.
Stepping onto the ice is like a breath of fresh air. Whiskey skates a lap, and then another, and it’s like he finally relaxes for the first time since last night. Pretty soon, Mickey calls them to order, and suddenly it’s all starting, but Whiskey still feels like he’s got a decent grip on himself. He’s got this. He can do this.
They run a bunch of drills focused on puck control, at first, and then split up into pairs to work on passing and receiving. And somehow, it all feels achingly familiar. It’s almost like Tango is right there next to Whiskey as he shoots the puck to Ducky over and over again – Whiskey gets the timing exactly right every time, but that's only because he and Tango spent all those hours fucking nailing their passes, last season. And later, when Whiskey races Mickey up the ice in a speed exercise that has him high on adrenaline, it’s almost like Pips skates furiously beside him, like always, pushing and pushing and pushing until Whiskey is giving it everything he’s got and then just a little bit more. It’s weirdly grounding, how every member of the Samwell team seems to manifest themselves through his playing, a constant reminder of how far they’ve all helped him come.
They play something of a mock-game towards the end of it, and Mickey has them changing up the lines again and again. By the time they’re wrapping things up, Whiskey thinks he’s played alongside each of the other forwards at least once.
They’re all good. They’re all really fucking good.
Mickey claps a hand on his back as they’re stepping back into the locker room.
“Not bad,” he says. “You’re fast.”
Not as fast as Pips, Whiskey doesn’t tell him. And neither are you.
“I try to be,” he says instead, and Mickey grins.
“You’ll catch up to an old man like me in no time,” he chirps kindly. “Now, I think Larsen wants to get hold of you sooner rather than later. Let’s try not keep her any longer, eh?”
Unsurprisingly, Emily Larsen is waiting for him when he steps out of the locker room.
“There you are,” she says brightly. “Welcome to Houston, Connor. We’re so happy to have you here at such short notice.”
He’s ushered off to something that turns out to be a meeting. There’s at least three different people who shake his hand on the way there – one of them is the nutritionist, who has somehow already heard rumours about baked goods.
Emily promises not to keep him for too long, but she does have a few things that apparently can’t wait. She goes over the draft of his contract, aided by someone from the legal department who is able to answer some of Whiskey’s questions, which is good. Or well, it’s at least informative. Then there’s the question of housing options, which Whiskey decides to postpone until all of this is actually completely settled. He’s in a hotel, for now, which is perfectly fine. Finally, Emily runs through a brief power-point presentation on the Aeros, their history, and some aspects of life in Houston. Which isn’t uninteresting, exactly, but Whiskey is sort of more fucking exhausted than he remembers being in last year’s playoffs.
“Almost done,” Emily reassures him as she changes yet another slide.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the next headline captures Whiskey’s full attention. Outreach Activities – You Can Play & The Rainbow Puck Foundation. Our values and vision.
“Well,” Emily says. She looks at the screen, her expression almost a little confused. “This is, you know. What we stand for, and all of that.”
And just like that, she’s moved on to the next slide.
Right.
Whiskey checks into his hotel room, puts his suitcase down, makes it to the bed and sleeps for three hours.
When he wakes up, he’s got seven missed calls and more than twenty texts.
Most of the texts are from Miguel. Whiskey smiles softly while he scrolls through Miguel's more than familiar stream-of-consciousness. It's perhaps a little more chipper than usually, almost as if Miguel is making an effort to sound nothing but cheerful. Whiskey's heart aches desperately as he types up a few lines in response. got here okay. practice was fine. will call you tonight. I miss you so fucking much.
The calls are from Dex, Chowder, Louis and Pips. Pips has called twice, Dex thrice. Dex has also sent him five texts.
The last one contains Jack Zimmermann’s phone number.
call Jack, okay? he’d really like to hear from you. Bitty says hi, by the way.
Whiskey plugs in his phone, and gets up. If he’s going to have a heart to heart with one of the most high-profile players in the league, he’s going to take another shower, first, and his phone is going to have more than six percent battery.
About half an hour later, he’s put on pajamas, because fuck it, and settled into an armchair by the window with his hair still damp. His hands barely shake as he carefully types in the number.
Jack Zimmermann doesn’t pick up until the seventh ring.
“Connor?” he asks by way of greeting.
“Yeah.” Whiskey pulls his knees up to his chest and fiddles with the hem of his pajama pants. “Hi.”
“Give me just one second.” There’s a bustling noise, the sound of a door closing and then quiet. “There. It’s nice to talk to you again.”
“You, too.” God, Whiskey has no idea how the fuck he’s supposed to navigate this. “I hope this isn’t a bad time?”
“Not at all,” Jack reassures him. “How are you?”
“Um.” Whiskey grimaces. “Tired?”
“I can imagine,” Jack says, his voice surprisingly warm. “Dex filled me in a little bit, this morning. You’re already in Houston, right?”
“That’s right, yeah.”
“How are things, so far?”
“Not bad,” Whiskey decides, after a moment’s consideration. “I don’t really… I mean, I’ve actually barely had time to think about it.”
Jack hums.
“How long do you have, before you need to give them a definite answer?”
“Until Sunday.”
“Sunday. Okay.” Jack pauses momentarily. “That’s not unreasonable, on their part. Sometimes these things happen really fast.”
“Right. Okay.”
“Can I ask… Do you have an agent?”
“No, actually.” Whiskey runs a hand through his hair. “I haven’t really... I mean, I’ve basically been thinking that there would still be time before I’d need to consider these things more seriously. This opportunity was very unexpected.”
“Okay.” There’s another moment of silence before Jack speaks again. “Look, I’m just going to be very blunt about this. How much are these guys offering you?”
“Ah,” Whiskey says. He tries to remember – there’s been numbers mentioned, several of them, something about a signing bonus and a monthly salary and Whiskey’s barely registered anything beyond how that’s a lot of digits, holy cow. “I haven’t… Honestly, the financial aspect has sort of been the last thing on my mind.”
“Okay,” Jack says again, and there’s something of a smile in his voice. “I understand that, I really do. There are a lot of other important factors. It’s just, you should definitely think about getting an agent.”
“No, I know,” Whiskey agrees readily. “I, uh. This has all just happened really fast.”
“I’m getting that.” There’s no judgement in Jack’s tone. “But you haven’t actually signed anything yet, right? Not even some non-disclosure formality?"
“No, nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Then you’ve got the ball in your corner, still,” Jack says encouragingly. “Or, you know. The puck. This is all going to play out the way you decide is best, in the end.”
“... Right.” Suddenly, Whiskey wants to laugh. Fuck, he’s so tired. “The thing is, I’ve honestly got no clue how I’m supposed to figure that out. There’s no telling if I’ll ever get a better offer than this, and that’s... A major concern for me. This is what I want to do, and I don’t know if I can afford to pass up on this chance. But I never imagined that I would need to be ready to take this step so soon, and I… I just don’t know if I’m going to be.”
“Okay,” Jack says. And this time, he doesn’t need to pause and consider before he responds. “Look. The only thing you need to do, here, is make sure that you do right by yourself and what it is that you need. Okay? I know the Aeros are in a bit of a hurry, at the moment – I’ve heard all about those injuries and the estimated recovery times. They’re going to have several key players out for the rest of the season, and that’s certainly an urgent situation for them. Now, I’ve seen the way you play, Connor, and I’m more than familiar with your statistics. You’re good. Clearly, this is a move that makes complete sense for the Houston Aeros. The real question is, is it something that’s going to make complete sense for you?”
Whiskey closes his eyes for a moment. He exhales, and feels his shoulders relax a bit. Huh. When he opens his eyes again, looking out over the unfamiliar city outside his window, it’s like he finally has a moment of clarity.
“I don’t know,” he says, almost steadily. “I thought it might.”
“Well,” says Jack Zimmermann. He sounds almost fond, which is of course completely ridiculous. Clearly, Whiskey is having some sort of sleep-deprived hallucination. “Maybe don't rule it out after your very first day. But you might want to give that some serious thought, during the rest of this week.”
“Yeah.” Whiskey inhales, then exhales. “I guess that’s what I’ll have to do.”
Their conversation continues for a little while longer. Jack inquires about some of the Samwell team members, and coach Hall and Murray, and Whiskey finds himself surprisingly at ease as they take turns sharing a few personal anecdotes about Faber, and the Haus. It's never quite struck him, before, how much of a shared history he has with the generations of Samwell team members that came before him.
"I'd really like to stay in touch," Jack says before they hang up. Surprisingly, he tacks on something of a chirp. "If you're going to be my new competition, I'd like to know what I'm up against."
"I don't think I could give you competition," Whiskey tells him honestly, and if that reveals just a little more of Whiskey's deep and genuine admiration for Jack than he had maybe intended to show, well, so be it.
"Don't be so sure," Jack says plainly. "Take care out there, Connor. I'll talk to you soon."
ch. 20
#check please#omgcheckplease#omgcp#connor whisk#will poindexter#whiskey x oc#OC: Miguel#the houston aeros#hockey#like actual hockey#not just pie#currently looking at wrapping this up by chapter 26#unless my outline changes somewhat#again#it's been known to happen#but it'll be around that number for sure#fanfiction#evie writes#dance with somebody
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Chasing Butterflies: Murphy’s Law
Hello all! I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always constructive criticism is appreciated. Make sure to let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists!
Season 1; Episode 4: Murphy’s Law
Pairings: OC x OC best friends, no love interests chosen yet
Warnings: Mentions of death/murder, nightmares
Word Count: 3,292
Season 1 Masterlist
Nova, Elara, and Clarke stood just outside the camp walls. They were silently standing by the delinquents graves, mourning Wells who was found dead just a few days prior.
"They got Wells just outside the wall." A voice calls from behind them.
The three friends turn to see Finn walking towards them, "Let them come. I'll kill them all." Nova states, glancing one last time at the grave then turning on her heel to walk into the camp.
Elara sighs then follows her, leaving Finn and Clarke alone. "Nov, wait up." She calls after the girl.
Nova stops and waits for her but doesn't turn around, "Are you alright?" Elara asks.
Nova looks at Elara, "I'm pissed off Lara. One of our best friends just got murdered by grounders. And I will do whatever it takes to get justice."
"That's not justice, it's revenge. And it's not healthy." Elara retorts.
Nova scoffs and shakes her head, "Call it what you want but the truth of the matter is that the grounders are going to kill more unless we do something about it. I'm going to start training people one on one. I suggest you start practicing with that bow I gave you."
Without waiting for Elara to reply Nova marches off to find someone to train. "Fox!" Nova calls out.
The girl turns to look at her with wide eyes, "You're with me." Fox, terrified, looks at the people she was helping. They shrug helplessly as they hear Nova call out once more, "Today."
Fox quickly moves to walk beside the petite girl, "What are we doing?" She asks.
"Training. We need to know how to protect ourselves and I promised everyone I would start training you guys. I figured I would start with you."
"O-Okay." She stutters.
"Pick up a knife. We'll start with knife throwing. How to hold it correctly and all of that." Fox nods and does as she's told.
As Nova begins her lesson, Elara is just outside the camp walls practicing with her bow and arrow like Nova said. Despite not wanting to have to use it she knows Nova is right. They need to know how to protect themselves in case the grounders attack.
*_*_*_*_*_*
After about fifteen minutes of practicing Elara hears Octavia calling her name, "Elara! You may want to come here."
She turns around and sees the panicked look on the girls face. She hurriedly collects her arrows and rushes over to Octavia who brings her into a tent which has Jasper, Clarke, and Bellamy.
Elara looks around, "Where's Nova?"
"I don't think we should tell her. She can be a little... Intense." Jasper says, looking at Octavia.
Octavia sighs but before she can respond Bellamy does, "Whatever it is that you need to tell us she should know. She's one of the leaders here. She'll be even more pissed if we leave her out of the loop."
Octavia nods then leaves the tent to find Nova. She returns a minute later with Nova trailing behind, "What's this about?" She asks.
Jasper reaches into his pocket, he pulls out two fingers and a knife built from the dropship. "We found this knife and Wells's fingers not too far from where he died."
"This knife was made of metal from the dropship." Clarke says reaching for the knife. "Who else knows about this?" She asks Octavia and Jasper.
"No one. We brought it straight here." Octavia replies.
"Someone in camp murdered Wells. It wasn't a grounder." Elara says, mouth dropping open.
"We need to keep this quiet." Bellamy states. He looks at Nova for back up as Clarke tries to exit the tent. Nova stays silent, letting the words sink in. "Clarke, be smart about this. Like it or not, thinking the grounders killed Wells is good for us."
"Oh, good for you, you mean." Clarke starts to argue.
Elara interrupts, "He's right. We don't even know whose knife it is."
"Oh really? J.M. John Murphy. The people have a right to know."
"John Mbege has the same initials, Clarke. And just because it's his knife doesn't mean he killed him. Someone could have taken his knife to frame him. It's what I would have done." Nova states.
"Are you seriously trying to stick up for him? After you wanted to kill all of the grounders for something you thought they did?" Clarke snaps.
"I'm not sticking up for anyone. All I'm saying is we don't have all the answers. If we are going to confront Murphy we need to do it quietly. All this is going to cause is panic."
Clarke scoffs and shoves her way past Bellamy. "You son of a bitch!" She exclaims, pushing Murphy.
"What's your problem?" He asks.
"Recognize this?" Clarke questions, holding up the knife.
The others are now out of the tent, watching as the delinquents start crowding around to watch Clarke and Murphy's interaction.
"It's my knife. Where'd you find it?"
"Where you dropped it after you killed Wells."
"The grounders killed Wells, not me." He turns away from the blonde to look at Bellamy, "Do you really believe this?"
"You threatened to kill him. We all heard you. You hated Wells."
"Plenty of people hated Wells. His father was the Chancellor that locked us up."
"Yeah, but you're the only one who got in a knife fight with him."
"Yeah, and I didn't kill him then either."
Nova loudly scoffs, "Like you had a chance. If I recall he had the knife to your throat. You probably took him by surprise to actually get him."
"He tried to kill Jasper too!" Octavia calls out. This causes Jasper's eyes to widen in horror.
Murphy tries to deny the accusation again, "Come on. This is ridiculous. I don't have to answer to you or anyone."
"Excuse me?" Nova narrows her eyes at the boy.
At the same time Bellamy raises an eyebrow, "Come again?"
Murphy looks to Bellamy for help, "I'm telling you, man. I didn't do it."
"They found his fingers on the ground with your knife." Bellamy replies.
Clarke turns her attention to the surrounding delinquents, "Is this the kind of society that we want? You say there should be no rules. Does that mean that we can kill each other without punishment?"
"I say we float him!" Connor calls out from the crowd. A chorus of "Yeahs" can be heard from the group.
"That's not what I'm saying." Clarke yells, trying to be heard above the delinquents.
"Why not? He deserves to float. It's justice." Connor yells once more.
"It's not justice! It's revenge!" Elara calls, glancing at Nova who sits back with narrowed eyes and her arms crossed across her chest.
"It's justice!" Connor yells again. Connor, Myles, Derek, and some other delinquents move in to attack Murphy. They punch and kick him making the boy fall to the ground. They grab rope to tie his hands behind his back then drag him outside the camp walls to a tree.
Clarke and Elara chase after the delinquents yelling at them to stop and leave Murphy alone. The delinquents grab a hold of the two girls, making sure they stay back as Connor throws a noose around Murphy's neck and Derek ties the other end to a high branch on the tree.
Myles gets him to stand on top of a log, when everything is ready Connor yells once more, "Bellamy should do it!"
The crowd of delinquents start chanting Bellamy's name, "Bellamy, you can stop this!" Clarke calls out, tears in her eyes.
"Nov do something! Help Murphy." Elara yells at her friend. Nova bites her lips but refuses to look at Elara. Instead her eyes stay locked on Bellamy who turns his attention to her.
He waits for her to say something, anything. Nova gives a slight tilt of her head indicating that he should do it. So Bellamy walks over to Murphy and kicks the log out from under him.
"How could you!" Clarke calls out.
"This is on you princess. You should've kept your mouth shut." Bellamy exclaims.
"What the hell are you doing?" Finn shouts, just walking back to the camp and seeing Murphy hanging from the tree. "Cut him down!" The group holds him back.
Finally, a small voice yells out, "Stop! Okay?" The group turns to see Charlotte, crying. "Murphy didn't kill Wells! I did!"
Finn and Elara shove their way to the front to cut Murphy down, this time nobody stops them.
*_*_*_*_*_*
"Bring the girl out, Bellamy!" Murphy calls from outside the tent.
Choosing to ignore Murphy and his gang, Bellamy eyes the young girl, "Why Charlotte?"
"I was just trying to slay my demons, like you told me."
Nova scoffs and shakes her head, "Maybe I should have told her my story then, huh?" She looks at Bellamy, eyes burning with hatred.
Bellamy shakes his head and focuses back on Charlotte, "That's not what I meant."
"Bring the girl out now!" Murphy calls again.
"Please don't let them hurt me!" Charlotte says, beginning to cry once more.
Nova rolls her eyes, "Let's just kill her." Clarke, Finn, Bellamy, and Elara all turn to glare at Nova as Charlotte backs away into Elara's side.
"What the hell is wrong with you Nov?" Elara scolds.
"What? She may be the youngest one here but she's old enough to know right from wrong. We almost hanged Murphy for a crime he didn't commit. All I'm saying is the right person should get punished. And Murphy and his gang aren't going to stop until she's dead. The least we can do is deal with her ourselves and kill her humanely and in private rather than letting Murphy do it."
"We are not killing her." Bellamy glares.
Nova rolls her eyes then holds up her hands, "Fine. Whatever. But don't come crying to me when this goes horribly wrong."
Nova pushes by the group, leaving the tent to let them discuss what they are going to do with Charlotte. As the flap of the tent shuts behind Nova, Bellamy turns to the others, "If you guys have any bright ideas, speak up."
"Those are your boys out there." Finn reminds him.
"This is not my fault. If she had listened to me, those idiots would still be building the wall."
As Nova steps out of the tent she looks right at Murphy as he asks, "Where's the girl, Angel?"
Nova rolls her eyes at the nickname, "Don't try to patronize me. I said we should kill her. They didn't agree. I'm letting them decide since I was outnumbered."
Murphy looks slightly shocked at her words but quickly recovers as he yells out once more, "You want to build a society, princess? Let's build a society. Bring her out."
Bellamy finally emerges from the tent prompting Murphy to speak once more, "Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us."
"Dial it down and back off." Bellamy scolds.
"Or what? What are you gonna do about me? Hang me?"
"That could be arranged." Nova mutters.
"I thought you were on my side, angel." Murphy says, looking at Nova.
She rolls her eyes once more, "I still think you're an ass and you deserve to die. Just not for this crime."
Bellamy calls out to Murphy, "I was just giving the people what they wanted."
"You know what? That's a great idea. Who wants the real murdered to be hanged for her crime?" Murphy asks, addressing the crowd of delinquents. Murphy, his crew, and Nova are the only people who raise their hands. "So it's okay to string me up for nothing, but when this little bitch confesses, you all let her walk? Cowards!"
"Hey, Murphy! It's over." Bellamy states.
"Whatever you say boss." Murphy waits for Bellamy to turn around. Then he quickly grabs a piece of wood from the ground and hits Bellamy over the head with, running into the tent. Murphy sees that Charlotte and the others are no longer there and gestures for his gang to follow him, "Come on. Let's get the girl!"
Nova watches as the group leaves. She makes her way over to Bellamy to check his head. "Miller, Connor! Bring him to his tent. Everyone else back to work. Let me know when he wakes up."
She watches as everyone moves to start working on the camp once more. Her eyes search for someone to start training, "Harper! You're with me."
She waits for the girl to follow her so that she can start training her on how to use a spear properly. She takes her time teaching her, waiting for Bellamy to wake up so they can go after Murphy and his gang.
*_*_*_*_*_*
Elara, Clarke, and Finn snuck Charlotte outside the camp when Bellamy left the tent to deal with Murphy. Elara kept a tight hold on Charlotte's hand as Finn and Clarke walked a little bit ahead.
"It's going to be night soon, Finn. Where are we going?" Clarke asks. When the boy doesn't answer right away she speaks once more, "At least tell me you have a plan and we're not just wandering aimlessly through the woods."
"I have a plan." Finn answers.
Charlotte moves to grab Clarke's hand which ends up with the blonde yelling at the little girl, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Just because we saved you doesn't mean you're forgiven. Got it?"
"Clarke. Knock it off!" Elara scolds, making sure to hold on to Charlotte.
"She's just a kid." Finn continues.
"She's a killer." Clarke retorts, she turns to look Charlotte in the eye, "You killed someone, Charlotte. Ended his life. Did you think about that for even one second."
"Enough!" Elara scolds once more, "He was one of my best friends too. I'm pissed off too. But Charlotte knows what she did was wrong. Yelling at her isn't going to bring him back."
"Charlotte! Elara, Clarke, and Finn can't save you." Murphy yells through the trees.
"We should run." Clarke states.
"Yeah. That's one way to go. I like my plan better." Finn says, reaching down and opening a hidden door. "Get in." He smiles.
Elara gently pushes Charlotte inside. She follows closely behind, Finn and Clarke behind her.
"Finn, what is this place?" Clarke asks.
"For now, it's home."
Elara sat down next to Charlotte on the bottom bunk. She tucked the young girl in and moved to stand up. "Can you tell me a story?" Charlotte asked.
Elara hesitates, "I only know one."
"That's fine. Please?"
Elara nodded and began the story of Robin Hood, "It was a quiet night in Sherwood village. Yet someone was creeping through the dark..."
As she finished up the story she saw that the young girl was fast asleep. She stood up and looked at Clarke and Finn who were having a whispered conversation. She stretched her limbs then climbed up to the top bunk to take a quick nap.
*_*_*_*_*_*
"Elara! Elara wake up!" Clarke shakes Elara awake.
"What? What happened?" Elara sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Charlotte is gone. We need to go." This statement makes Elara shoot out of the bed. They all quickly make their way out of the bunker in search of the young delinquent.
Meanwhile, Bellamy and Nova are also in pursuit of Charlotte. "I don't understand why you're helping me now? What made you change your mind about killing Charlotte?" Bellamy asks Nova.
"Honestly, I still think it would be easier to just kill her. But I also understand why we shouldn't. Plus I'll do anything that goes against what Murphy wants." Nova states.
In the distance the pair hears Murphy yell, "Charlotte! You can't hide forever. Don't worry. We won't hurt you."
Bellamy and Nova exchange a look, just as they see Charlotte running towards them. They each hide behind a tree and when Charlotte passes, Bellamy grabs her. "Let me go!" The young girl yells.
"We're trying to help!" Bellamy says to her.
"I'm not your sister! Just stop helping me! I'm over here!" She calls out, gaining Murphy's attention.
"Shut the fuck up! Are you trying to get us killed?" Nova scolds the delinquent.
"Just go. I'm the one they want."
"We are not leaving you." Bellamy says. Bellamy picks up the young girl as she starts yelling for Murphy once again. Nova and Bellamy run away from the footsteps that are closing in.
In another part of the forest Clarke, Finn, and Elara hear Charlotte's scream. "Murphy has her." Clarke says, taking off to find the group. Finn and Elara follow close behind, also determined to find Charlotte and make sure she's safe.
Bellamy and Nova only stop when they come to a cliff and have nowhere else to run. "Bellamy, Nova. You can't fight us all."
"Is that a challenge, troll?" Nova spits out. Her knife is held tightly in her hand and she takes a protective step in front of Bellamy and Charlotte.
"Didn't you want her dead too, angel?" Murphy asks, tilting his head at the petite girl in question.
"Yeah, but I'll protect her if it means I get to go against you. And trust me when I say you can't beat me."
Suddenly Clarke, Elara, and Finn make their way into the clearing. "Stop, this has gone too far!" Clarke says.
"Everyone needs to calm down. We can talk about this." Elara continues.
"I'm sick of listening to you talk." Murphy says, grabbing Elara and putting his knife to her throat.
"You hurt her and I'll kill you faster than you can blink, troll." Nova instantly says.
"I will slit her throat." Murphy replies.
"No, please. Please don't hurt her." Charlotte cries out.
"Don't hurt her? Okay, I'll make you a deal. You come with me right now, I will let her go."
Bellamy grabs Charlotte's arm as she starts to move forward. "Don't do it Charlotte."
Charlotte stops moving forward. "No, I have to. Murphy, this is not happening. I can't let any of you get hurt anymore. Not because of me. Not after what I did."
Without saying anything else, she walks to the edge of the cliff and jumps off, not giving any of the older delinquents around her the chance to stop her.
"Charlotte!" Clarke and Elara scream after the girl, but they both know there is nothing they can do.
Bellamy on the other hand moved past Nova and started throwing punches at Murphy. "Bellamy no! You'll kill him!" Clarke grabs Bellamy's arm to stop him.
"He deserves to die!" Bellamy grunts out.
"We don't decide who lives and dies. Not down here." Clarke says.
"So help me God, if you say the people have a right to decide."
Clarke cuts him off, "No, I was wrong before. You were right. Sometimes it's dangerous to tell people the truth. But if we're going to survive down here, we can't just live by whatever the hell we want. We need rules."
"And who is going to make the rules? You?"
"No. Us. Together." Elara speaks up.
"Well he's not coming back to camp with us. Because if you even think that's a good idea I'm killing him myself." Nova says, gesturing to Murphy who is bloody and on the ground.
"We banish him." Clarke says.
Bellamy looks at the other four delinquents that are part of Murphy's gang, "The four of you can either come back and follow me or go off with him to die. Your choice."
The delinquents all turn away from Murphy, leaving him on his own in the forest.
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The Bonnie Banks Of Loch Lomond
A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot
Word Count: 2,440
Warnings: Angst
Author’s Note: Fun fact, I am from a family of sailors and we all carry challenge coins on our persons! Issuing challenges is fun! Enjoy! -Thorne
She wielded the knife with a practiced ease, slicing and dicing the many vegetables she’d laid out the hour before. Since she and Connor had gotten together, she spent more and more time at the manor, ultimately staying the night most days. Feeling it only fair for him putting up with two people in his home, she made Achilles most of his meals as repayment. Of course, she had no problems with it, with Ellen handling most of the tailoring needs and her waitressing job in the evenings, she didn’t have much to do during the day, so it kept her busy. A knock sounded from the front door and she looked up, calling, “Mister Davenport! Can you-” His figure passed by the door as he griped,
“I’ve got it.” She huffed a laugh, glancing back down as she heard the door open. Footsteps sounded into the dining room and Achilles addressed, “(Y/N), it’s for you.” She drew her eyes from the chopping board to see an well-weathered man in a whaler suit standing behind Achilles; she smiled, wiping her hands on the rag at her waist and greeted,
“Nathaniel!” (Y/N) walked around the table, arms outstretched as she pulled him into a hug. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” He curled his arms around her, patting her back before pulling away, hands clasping the sides of her arms.
“Look at you lass, all grown…I remember when you were just a wee one.” She snorted, then turned to Achilles, introducing them.
“Achilles, this is an old family friend Nathaniel Whitlock. Nathaniel, this is Achilles Davenport, the lord of the manor.” The two shook hands and (Y/N) asked, “What brought you this far out Nathaniel? Last I remember, you and Uncle Gideon were navigating for the shipping company.” The man nodded, but the look on his face turned grim and he murmured,
“You might want to sit lass.” She furrowed her brows, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest as she inquired,
“Why? Has something happened?” Nathaniel opened his mouth, then he shut it before letting out a sigh and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small pouch. He handed it to her, watching as unlaced the ties and flipped it over, the contents falling out into her hand. (Y/N) looked at it, muttering, “This is Uncle Gideon’s challenge coin.” She grinned, recounting, “Oh I remember as a child when I would watch him slap it on the table when he was with the crew. All the laughter and groans…those were good times.” She looked at the man. “Uncle Gideon never goes anywhere without this…why do you have it?” Nathaniel grimaced, explaining with a grieved tone,
“Their ship…it…was attacked by pirates off the coast of Saint Augustine a few weeks ago.” He let out a sigh. “Another cargo ship collected the personal belongings left behind and brought them to us for determination of the surviving families.” He met her eyes and said, “I recognized the coin when I saw it.” Her jaw went slack, and he lamented, “I’m so sorry lass.” (Y/N) could barely form a coherent thought, but managed to blurt,
“Uncle Gideon is dead?” Nathaniel nodded and she looked between the coin and him before weakly fumbling for the chair beside her. Achilles leaned over, pulling at the leg with his cane and she collapsed into it, bringing a hand to her chest. He took the seat beside her, reaching into his pocket to pull another pouch out, this time heavier, obviously full of the pension as she was owed.
“He is…but I know for a fact that he fought until the end.” A mixture of emotions ran through her at his words, pride, then anguish. “You’ve been compensated a three hundred pounds.” (Y/N) glanced at the pouch, then caught sight of the gold ring on his finger, opting to ask instead,
“Have you any children Nathaniel?” His eyes widened with confusion, but he nodded,
“I do…two boys and a girl.” She swallowed thickly, nodding at the pouch.
“Take it back to them…I’ve no need of it.” His retort was cut off as she reached over, laying a hand on his. “Nathaniel, I want you to have this. I already have enough money to take care of me, but I want to make sure your children do too.” He regarded her a moment then looked to the pouch, huffing a pitiful laugh as he muttered,
“You’ve always looked out for others…just like Gideon.” (Y/N) felt her lips pull in a sad smile and he asked, “Do you have someone looking out for you?” His words brough Connor’s face to her mind and she inhaled deeply, nodding her head.
“I do…he tries to spoil me a lot, but I won’t let him spend money on frivolous things.” Nathaniel snorted, but it quickly died out as he reached up to wipe his eyes.
“Then he can rest easy knowing you’re being taken care of.” She said nothing in return, simply watching him stow the pouch back in his jacket. After a moment of silence, he inquired, “Is there an inn here? It’s too late to ride back to the city now.” (Y/N) cleared her throat as she tucked the coin in her pocket, replying,
“There’s one down the way…I’ll show-” Achilles waved at her and he quickly interrupted,
“I’ve been needing to check on something at the inn. I’ll show you the way Nathaniel.” The two started for the door when he turned, addressing (Y/N). “You go on home girl.” She dropped her gaze to her feet, feeling the burning in her eyes as she said,
“Thank you.”
A Few Hours Later:
He’d never be one to outright admit that he was tired, but with each step he took, feeling the aching pain shoot up his spine, he was pretty close to an admission. The front door of the manor came into view and all he could think about was taking a hot bath, pulling on some clean clothes, and collapsing across her lap as she giggled at him and asked if he’d had a long day. It made him smile, and as he opened the door, he called, “I have returned.” There wasn’t an immediate response, which made his brows furrow, then he heard the rapping of a cane from the upper level, and Achilles appeared at the staircase. He stepped down slowly, returning,
“I see you’re back in one-piece Connor.” The assassin rolled his eyes as his mentor stood in front of him.
“I always come back in one piece.” Achilles chuckled before moving into the dining room, Connor following behind. “Where is (Y/N)?” The older man paused, then settled into one of the chairs, murmuring,
“She received some bad news from a family friend a few hours ago…I sent her home so she could be alone.” Connor’s eyes went wide, and before he could move his feet, Achilles added, “Go clean up before you go see her, you smell like the outside.” His face pinched, but he obeyed, quickly running upstairs to freshen up.
Some Time Later:
The leaves crunched under his boots with each step, and though it wasn’t cold, he curled his arms tighter into his coat as he hurried to her cottage. Connor couldn’t deny that Achilles words had frightened him, mind thinking of the worst news that (Y/N) could’ve received. He neared her home, stopping in his tracks as he caught sight of her sitting against a log beside fire she’d built, one hand clutched into a fist, the other curled around the neck of a bottle. He stared at her face, eyes focused on the flames before her, lips mouthing words. The licking and crackling of the fire hid her sounds, but the closer he moved, the louder her voice became, and he realized she was singing. Her voice drifted into the air, full of emotion, and it stopped him in his tracks once more as he felt his heart become heavy. “The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring and the sunshine the waters are sleepin’. But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again, tho’ the waefu’ may cease frae their greetin’.” The song wasn’t one he recognized, but it reminded him of the sea shanties the crew sang as they sailed. Connor shook his head, walking over as she finished, “For ye’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low, and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye. For me and my true love will never meet again…on the bonnie, bonnie banks…of Loch Lomond.” (Y/N)’s head lowered, and she tugged the bottle closer, taking a long swig of it before she pulled it away and tipped it upside down, watching a few drops fall out. She let out a huff and tossed the bottle to the side, curling in on herself. He knelt beside her, gently murmuring her name.
“(Y/N)?” Usually when he snuck up on her, she would yelp and fall over, but she simply tipped her head up, gazing at him with tired, hazy eyes. He raised a hand, cupping her cheek. “How long have you been sitting out here?” (Y/N) let out a puff of air, turning her attention back to the fire.
“Few hours…more or less.” She nodded at the bottles beside it. “I think I drank one for every hour.” Connor glanced at the bottles, nose scrunching up from the bitter after smell of the whiskey as he muttered,
“There are three bottles Ehnita…you have drunk them all?” (Y/N) grunted, casting a glare to the fire for her answer; he leaned towards her, prodding, “What has caused you such a reaction (Y/N)?” She didn’t speak at first, and she blamed the alcohol for slowing her response, but after a moment, she looked over, whispering,
“My uncle was killed by pirates a few weeks ago.” Connor’s face dropped and he sympathized,
“Ehnita…I am so sorry.” (Y/N) tried to wave him off, but she brought her hand to her eyes, face twisting with anguish as she began to cry. He frowned, and gently sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms; she didn’t fight him, simply burying her face into his chest, body racking with each sob. Connor pressed a hand to her cheek, tucking her head under his chin as he rubbed circles in her back, comforting, “It is okay (Y/N)…I am here.” Her fingers twisted in his shirt, and she brought her hand down, holding it to her mouth as she said,
“I hadn’t seen him since he moved to Saint Augustine a year ago, and now he’s gone.” He nodded against her with understanding.
“I know your grief Ehnita.” (Y/N) wiped in vain at the tears streaming down her face. “I wish I could take it from you.” She sucked in a shuddered breath.
“He was all I had left.” She pulled away from him, eyes wide with a newfound fear as she wept, “Ratonhnhaké:ton, I’m all alone.” Immediately, he took hold of her chin, face as solemn as his voice as he assured,
“So long as I stand by your side, you will never be alone (Y/N).” Her lips wobbled, and she whispered,
“Do you promise?” Connor nodded.
“I do.” (Y/N) shut her eyes and leant forward, feeling him press his forehead to hers. After a moment, he questioned, “What was that song you were singing?”
“The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond.” She pulled back slightly, shifting around in his arms until her back was firmly pressed to his chest, head lolling on his shoulder. “When I was a child, I heard it in a tavern and it was as if it’d been burned into my memory.” (Y/N) felt fresh tears rise in her vision, but she grinned, “It was Uncle Gideon’s favorite song.” The grin seemed to crumble and she swallowed thickly, pushing out, “I figured I should sing it for him one last time.” Connor pressed his lips to her temple, murmuring,
“It would give him great pain if you never sang it again.” (Y/N) simply hummed in return, not trusting herself to form words and he curled his arms around her, holding her against him. “He would want you to sing it and remember his memory and all the good times you shared with him.” She pursed her lips and nodded, and Connor laid a kiss to her temple again. “I wish I could have met him. He raised a beautiful woman, so talented and kind.” (Y/N) let out a watery laugh.
“He never had any kids, and after my parents passed, I’m sure he was as surprised as I was when I showed up on his doorstep all those years ago.” He smiled and she added, “He wasn’t perfect…but he did the best he could. Kept me clothed and fed, even paid for schooling...I wouldn’t be where I am today if he hadn’t bent over backwards for me like he did.” She lifted her hand, uncurling her fist to hold a silver coin between two fingers. “He left this to me…it’s all I’ve got left of him.” Connor propped his chin on her shoulder, asking,
“What is that?” (Y/N) turned her head to catch a glimpse of him.
“It’s a challenge coin.” His brows furrowed and she explained, “Soldiers and sailors carry them in their pockets, and if they’re in a tavern, anyone can take the coin out and slam it on the table. It issues a challenge to the other members of the group to show their coins, and whoever fails to produce a coin has to buy a round of drinks. Though, if everyone produces a coin, the one who issued the challenge must buy everyone else a round.” Connor’s lips pulled in satisfaction, and she flipped it in her fingers. “I used to ask him to have it all the time…I loved it. And now…now I’m not so sure.”
“He is passing the challenge to you Ehnita.” (Y/N) let out a heavy sigh, curling the coin back into her grip before turning her head up to look at the night sky.
“I miss him…I miss him dearly.” He nodded against her, comforting,
“I know the pain of losing someone you love…I miss my mother every day.” She didn’t respond, and he urged, “We should go inside…it will only get colder out here.” When he shifted, (Y/N) grabbed his arms, keeping them in place as she whispered,
“Please stay with me...just a bit longer.” Connor stopped, returning to his position as he agreed,
“Take all the time you need Ehnita…I will carry your grief with you.”
#connor kenway imagine#connor kenway imagines#connor kenway x reader#connor kenway x reader imagines#connor kenway x reader imagine#connor kenway#Ratonhnhaké:ton#assassins creed imagine#assassins creed imagines#assassins creed fanfiction#assassins creed 3#ac3#achilles davenport
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Enemies to lovers in 3.6 seconds
This was prompted by an awesome anon! Enjoy!
Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900
Detroit’s fifth police department was occupying Willis Show bar. The last time they had celebrated like that had been on Christmas. All other occasions, birthdays, promotions, retirement, were celebrated in personal circles, not with the full team. But this time, it was different. Being the precinct with the most android officers, the anniversary of the day androids were granted their freedom was something special. In the far back, the SWAT team played darts. Sixty’s team had been winning until the loosing team had decided to get him something to drink and interfere with that perfect accuracy. Hank, Connor, Captain Fowler and the other Lieutenants had gathered at the largest table, mostly talking and joking. And of course, there was what people quickly called the kids-table: Gavin with Tina and Chris, Nines sitting with them as there hadn’t been any space for him with his brother and he was the Detective’s partner. He had been told he could join them soon, as officer Person planned on leaving early. But at the moment, it looked very much as if the man would never leave: drinking beer after beer and showing no sign of stopping.
The overall atmosphere was fine, even cheery, with the occasional victory scream from the darts-section and the laughter of the bigger table setting the general mood. That was until a heated discussion began growing in volume and aggression:
‘You can’t just phcking say that!’, Gavin claimed, anger evident on his face. ‘You were in maintenance half week, that case was clearly on my count!’
‘Yeah and the half week I was there we made most of the progress’, Nines held against it. ‘Just agree that you are useless without an android by your side.’
‘Useless?!’, Gavin shouted lost for words. ‘Useless?! I’m sorry, but I was in this job as you were still some wet dream of some bottom technician! I have more experience than any of your kind!’
‘That is all you humans have going for you, huh?’, Nines hissed lowly. ‘Experience. What is that even? We have been programmed to do our jobs. You get pushed into a world and spend your first two decades useless learning basic facts and rules. How dare you even think you are superior to us?’
‘Oh, but you are?’, the Detective growled. ‘Where’s the equality shit now, hmm toaster? Or do you just fake that so no one runs away screaming when they see you?’ He grinned evilly, knowing exactly where to strike next. ‘Are you afraid people will realise what you are? What you were meant to be? That you are a phcking terminator unable to feel a thing? No compassion, no love, nothing. The only thing you know how to do is killing!’
Nines stood at that last roar that had silenced the rest of the bar. ‘What did you say?’, he whispered with a calm that promised bloodshed.
‘I said, you are nothing more than a gun’, Gavin repeated, standing up himself. ‘A tool that is convinced it is a living being!’
At that point, Tina looked like she wanted to interrupt their shouting match, but Gavin and Nines exchanged looks that would kill. A drunken Gavin really wasn’t someone you wanted to get on the wrong side of and drunken Nines seemed to be even more intimidating than his normal collected self. Despite better knowledge, Tina didn’t dare to step in between and backed down.
But Hank didn’t: Standing up from the larger table and turning towards them, he shouted louder than either of them before: ‘Reed! You either fucking behave or you two leave! No one wants to hear your anti-android shit, especially not today!’
Gavin had turned to Hank, a curse on his lips, but eyeing Fowler directly next to him, he showed enough brain power to swallow his words. ‘You know what? I will. Couldn’t care less about the tin-cans either way.’
He stepped to the side and hurried for the exit, as Nines shook his head, still agitated.
‘Gavin, I’m not done with you yet!’
‘Well, I am!’, Gavin shouted back and left through the door.
‘You goddamn-‘, Nines muttered but fell into his wide stride and followed the Detective outside.
-
The silence afterwards settled heavy on the bar and made Connor even more nervous than before, as he had seen his brother growing more and more angry with the asshole Detective. The conversations around him had already resumed, as he had made up his mind and excused himself: ‘I’m sorry, I have to check on them. Either Gavin is dead, or Nines lost his thirium regulator and is bleeding out, none of that is something we want to see tonight.’
‘My money’s on Gavin dead’, Tina cheered, her voice slurred from the alcohol, as Connor jogged past.
-
Nines was ready to kill. Just here outside the bar there were no witnesses and a body in some side street to it would be taken for some unconscious drunkard for long enough so he could leave the country. The only question was whether getting rid of Gavin was worth it. And he was still angry enough that his immediate reaction to that was a yes.
He had caught up to Gavin quickly and grabbed him by the back of his jacket, ready to jolt him back. He hadn’t expected the human to shrug out of it in one fluid motion, but adapted in an instant, taking his shirt next. He pulled him back with all his strength and pinned him against a wall, not at all caring if the brick wall in his back hurt him on impact.
He stared at Gavin, fury in his eyes, where Gavin was still defiant.
Instead of showing fear in the eye of a war-machine threatening him, Gavin stood tall – well, as tall as he could – and pushed his jaw forwards in accusation.
‘What. Do. You. Want?’, He pressed past his teeth and glared at the android.
Nines in turn tried to stare him down, showing no sign the Detective’s intimidation had any effect on him. They looked each other in the eyes, until Nines had forgotten he had been about to end this man’s life just seconds ago. Until he had realised too late, he was lost in these grey-green eyes that dared him to try anything. Nines could beat the man into a bloody pulp without breaking a sweat and Gavin knew that, still the human stood his ground and challenged him.
Nines caught his eyes wandering to the scar on the other’s nose and followed it further down to the chin where it wasn’t as easily detectable for most humans. He got stuck on the human’s lips, slightly chipped from the cold now and just a tiny bit parted. Nines hadn’t realised he had licked his own lips, but Gavin certainly did, as his heartbeat quickened. In a sudden burst of energy, the human reached up to Nines’ uniform and pulled him down on his lips. It was a hard kiss, neither careful nor pleasant nor expected, but all the more needy. Nines was close to reposition the hand from the man’s shoulder to his throat to make it stop, but consciously stopped himself. This… This was…
He answered the until then one-sided kiss and leaned closer, convincing himself he was essentially trapping the human in between the wall and his body, when in reality Gavin wasn’t anywhere close to even think of escaping. The android pulled back his lips, letting teeth clash and only allowed himself to get softer as the human was in need for air. Gavin gasped for it, when they finally separated and Nines allowed it for just a moment, gracefully swooping up the human’s jacket and throwing it around the Detective to pull him close again and resume.
‘Phck. Nines! You asshole!’, Gavin protested, but Nines shut him up quickly.
‘Quiet, human’, he mumbled, directing Gavin to a corner and pressing his knee between his legs. ‘You started this.’
Gavin bared his teeth in a hiss: ‘And you be damn sure you have no say in the matter when to stop!’
‘That we will see…’, Nines whispered in his ear, completely lost at that point.
-
‘-You asshole!’
Connor startled at the curse. That was Gavin’s voice. So definitely not dead yet. But how about Nines?
‘Quiet, human.’
Okay, Connor re-evaluated his first thought. Gavin may not be dead… yet.
Only then he turned around the first corner and saw Nines crowding Gavin against a wall holding him confined in the small space by wrapping the Detective’s leather jacket around him. Connor froze as he saw his brother angle his body and pressing his leg in between the smaller man’s. That… Gavin was allowing it. They were whispering something to each other, but Connor was too frozen to take notice of what words they spoke. The only thing he did see was that Nines bowed down for a kiss and repositioned his left hand to hold both sides of the jacket in one. His now free arm was trailing down the human’s body and his flat hand found its way under his shirt. Gavin squirmed, but their kiss only got deeper, and he saw the man press against the hand on his heated skin.
Connor couldn’t believe what was going down right in front of his eyes. Nines, his brother, was making out with Gavin Reed, the one he had just fought with and seemingly had been ready to kill. He was kissing the guy that had pointed a gun at Connor multiple times and at himself too. The precinct’s asshole who used every chance to annoy and start a fight with someone. The idiot everyone wondered how he still stayed employed. It… It was simply impossible and yet it just happened right here.
A moan that wasn’t even attempted to be stifled, brought him out of his shocked state and Connor darted. He had never been as fast in his life as he was now, sprinting around the corner, opening the door and falling down at his table. His haunted expression instilled worry in most faces, but it took a while until someone asked: ‘What happened?’
‘Trust me, you don’t want to know’, Connor muttered staring straight ahead. Then his head snapped up and life came back to him. He looked miserable. ‘Both are still alive, but believe me as a loving brother, I wish they weren’t.’
#detroit become human#dbh#Reed900#Gavin Reed#RK900#angry kiss#Nines: I hate him so much he is insufferable and a total asshole and he doesn't know when to back down#Nines: Also I get lost in his eyes and he is such a dumbass and...#Nines: Nevermind I love him so much#Connor is facepalming in so many damn stories lately poor little android#this actually had been fun to write but the person next to me on the train left the seat at the knee thingy#some people don't know what's good
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“Saved From What Might Have Been”
(A bit of birthday whump for @hollyethecurious)
By: @snowbellewells
I’m honestly not sure if this is much good, or really worth giving as a gift, but I’ve tried something new here, and I’m hoping you may like it, Hollye. You’ve provided the fandom (and our pirate!) a lot of painfully delicious whump over the last few years. Particularly with “What Lies Beneath the Mask” - my personal favorite! You also wrote one of my favorite examples of KnightRook fic in your recent MC “We Make Our Own Fate”. I’m attempting to incorporate those things in this little drabble for you. I don’t really know where this came from otherwise; I had something else in mind, but then this is what I ended up with instead. Contains Season 7’s Wish!Hook/Old Hook and Rogers, KnightRook, and of course some whumpage, if those are things people aren’t interested in. Most of those are new things for me to try writing as well.
Enough of my rambling - here goes:
“Saved From What Might Have Been”
Rough hands grasp him harshly, grappling at him from all angles and lifting him bodily from his seat at the gaming tables. He brays out in displeasure, swatting at those forcing him to the tavern door, at first thinking it is a ill-timed and less-than-humorous jest. However, as raucous voices laugh and jeer in approval, hooting and hollering and stamping feet accompanying shouts of “Good riddance!” and “Bout time ye boys were takin’ out the trash!”, Jones begins to struggle in earnest. He jerks within the hold of many, bucking and swinging wildly, though his punches go wide, made effectual with too much drink and the number of opponents holding him back. His attempts to dig in his heels only lead to him tripping over the raised board at the tavern entrance when the group pauses to open the door. Their combined grip lessens slightly, but before Hook can gather himself to whirl and fight, he is tossed forward unceremoniously, hurled into the street face first.
Once he would have been on his feet in an instant, charging forward to take all comers, but the air is knocked from his aging lungs, and he feels the ache and disorientation throughout his aching joints as he pushes himself to scruffed hands and knees, glaring at those who mock him from the doorway, barring re-entry to the one place able to temporarily silence his demons.
A shaking, unsteady hand wipes away mud from the rain drenched streets and the coarse and unkempt gray hair hanging in his eyes as well. His voice is a hoarse growl when he warns, “You lot should know better than to cross a pirate!” He attempts to stand imposingly to his full height, hand tucked in his belt and hook in plain view, to inspire the sort of respect and fear he had once done and ignore the shooting pain in his knees and hip.
The mob of half a dozen or more look unimpressed, but still Jones moves forward, meaning to shoulder his way through them and back to his table indoors. However, upon nearing the group, he is shoved back harshly, sending his still unbalanced form staggering back again. Rage blinds him along with the dizziness of a half-drunken haze. Brandishing the hook, he makes to charge into the fray once more, when he is stopped cold by their leader’s words.
“Think carefully, ye doddering old fool,” the man’s deep tone orders. “Ye’ve cheated yer last at my tables, and used up the last of me goodwill. Payin’ customers’ve complained long enough. You’re no captain. Where’s yer ship? No sailor nor pirate; no more, at any rate. Yer a has been, a worthless old drunk. And this be yer warnin’ - stay out of my tavern or face the consequences!”
The words sink in just as deep, and perhaps even more painfully than the hard landing had moments before. The grizzled man seems to shrink, his shoulders slumping as he faces the small mob barring his way. Though his bravado does not leave him, he sees that it will not serve him victory and there is no swaying the men standing against him. There’s nothing for him here - no longer can he seek refuge, drown his sorrows and try to forget. He wants to wipe that hateful sneer from the taven keeper’s face; to carve his mark in the skin of all their thick hides with the sharp point of his hook and prove their insults wrong. And yet… defeated he knows those words have long since turned into ugly truth.
“I’m not sure he’s gotten the message yet, Ed,” one of the burly louts adds gruffly, stepping from the collective shadow of the pack and circling around behind the old sailor, hands balled into fists.
“Ye may be right, Connors,” another chortles cruelly. “Seems he might be half witted as well as one handed!”
Outmanned he might be, but Jones still isn’t one to take such abuse in silence, and is about to tell them so when a sharp kick to his legs from behind buckles both his knees and sends him to the ground once more. Before he can begin to get up or even roll away from the unseen onslaught, another heavy booted foot hurries forward to step down on the arm that had hit the ground hardest, causing a garbled yelp to escape his chapped lips. The thug’s full weight on the joint makes an audible crunch of bone and sinew and it is all the aging Jones can do to bite back the sting of tears at the pain.
Floodgates now open, the group falls on him completely. A broom handle cracks along his spine, ale is poured over his head, rocks pelt him over and over, and kicks rain across his abdomen until he feels one connect with his ribs. His breath is stolen by the blazing white hot agony, and for a second his consciousness wavers. All thought of fighting back ceases, and instead Hook merely curls in upon himself, trying desperately to shield his head and vital organs until their attack is over.
After what seems an eternity, the beating slows, the miscreants back away as they spit on him and issue final warnings not to enter the establishment again. One even mutters that he might as well curl up there in the gutter where he belongs and wait to meet his Maker. In that moment, Jones wonders if he may be about to do so as his breath comes in harsh, ragged pants around the fragments of at least one broken rib scraping torment against his lung.
The sky opens in a frigid downpour again as the other men leave him in a crumpled heap. They go back inside, flush with victory and high spirited in his defeat. The greying man shivers from the cold and shock, the agony of his wounds and the decimation of his pride almost pulling him under.
However, he cannot give in yet, there is something he must still do. He cannot die here in this alleyway, even if he does deserve just such an inauspicious end. No, there is someone who would miss him, who needs the few pilfered coins and the crust of bread he had managed to hide before they discovered his game. ‘Alice,’ he wheezes, the name barely more than a whisper in the rainy deluge and the crash of thunder.
Half limping and half dragging his sorry carcass from the outskirts of the village, through the storm to the foot of her tower, the old buccaneer collapses at the base of the high, impenetrable edifice holding his darling girl prisoner. Tugging on the rope attached to the basket where he has placed his hard-won treasures, he hopes that his Alice will hear the bell at the other end, letting her know he has something for her, over the tumult. Squinting against the pelting drops, the wavering of his vision and encroaching unconsciousness, he waits for even a glimpse of her at the window far above. He can no longer climb to her; his old bones and poisoned heart having separated them physically years ago.
Minutes flow by, lengthening and playing tricks. Has she turned away from him too? “Alice!” he cries, his voice as broken as his body dying out on the howling wind. “Alice, my Lass! Are you there?” No answer comes, and her honeyed curls and beguiling smile never appear over the ledge. Even she has gone… he failed her too… just as he had feared…
~~~~***~~~~
Two delicate hands shake Rogers into wakefulness, his Alice’s concerned voice ending his nightmare anxiously. “Papa, wake up!” she pleads. “I’m here! You’re dreaming! Wake up!”
Blinking against the strangely wavering bluish light from the television still playing in the living room before him, he turns to see his grown daughter, restored to him just before they came here to Storybrooke in the United Realms, seated on the edge of the couch at his hip. Alice leans over him, where he had fallen asleep watching the nightly news, her hand still clutching his shoulder where she shook him awake. Her eyes are wide as she studies his face, sure that something real has disturbed her stoic and strong father.
He still feels a bit blearily fuzzy-headed, the dream having muddled him with the anguish and shame slow to fade from his brain. “Alice? Did I wake you? ‘M sorry, Love. You can go back to sleep.” He runs a hand haphazardly back through his dark hair, just beginning to show a few strands of silver, in an attempt to clear the cobwebs and offer her a tentative smile. Shaking his head, Rogers hopes the thin excuse will appease his grown child enough to drop her queries into what troubled him.
“You were calling my name, Papa,” Alice offers hesitantly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He sighs, reaching out to cover her hand on his shoulder and twining her fingers with his to squeeze tightly in affection. “No, Lass, no need. It’s nothing to worry about. We’re both here safe and sound. All’s as it should be.”
Not one to be easily dissuaded, she leans forward, pressing her forehead to her father’s playfully but holding his gaze with her curious eyes. “Are you sure?” she presses.
“Aye,” he nods with certainty, a bit more of the usual twinkle returning to his eyes as he stands to meet the day and pulls Alice up beside him. “No use worrying your pretty little head about me. Let’s have some breakfast, shall we?”
A matching sparkle of mischief lights her eyes as well. “Is there marmalade for the toast?” she returns cheerily.
“Of course there is, what do you take me for?”
“Then, let’s do it!” she exclaims, looping her arm through her papa’s as they troop into the kitchen. He follows easily, a full-throated laugh bubbling from his chest, only too happy to let the last shadows of the dream fade with the light of day.
Tagging a few others who (may?) enjoy - not sure this will be all of my usual readers’ cup of tea?
@kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @sherlockianwhovian @killian-whump @artistic-writer @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @revanmeetra87
#birthday fic for @hollyethecurious#whump fic drabble#ouat s7 divergent#wish hook#old hook#rogers#knightrook feels
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Thrill
*Not my gif*
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Requested: Yes
Prompt: Reader gets kidnapped and beaten
Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, beating
“Honestly Jay I’m not sure what we’re doing here...” I whispered.
“[Y/N] please, that’s not what I meant.” Jay sighed.
“I’m not Erin, Jay. The sooner you realize that the better. I’ve been patient, I’ve been understanding. Do you see a future with me or not? If you can truly picture a future without me in it and it doesn’t break your heart then I’m not sure what I’m doing here.” I sighed heavily.
“[Y/N] I-.” Jay ran a hand down his face tears threatening to spill out as he panicked trying to find words.
“I suggest you figure it out because I refuse to waste anymore time.” I cried tears covering my face. He looked down at his lap as a few tears escaped him as well. I swallowed hard leaning over to kiss his cheek and getting up to walk out. Jay had been having a hard time lately. I met him a few months after Erin had left. I had finally been brought up into intelligence and had been partnered with Jay. However, he was not in a great place. I did my best to help him through his PTSD at the time. He was suffering big time, and against his stubbornness I had somehow convinced him to go to therapy. I also did my best to get him to accept everything with Erin and hopefully move past it all. At the beginning of our relationship he didn’t seem to worry, but as it progressed and became more serious he became visibly more anxious. I knew he would always care for her. He would never not love her in some type of way, but it seemed to be becoming more of a problem in our relationship now than I had anticipated it would. He was very much so on edge about what was going to happen. I was very patient and understanding, but I was at the point now where I felt like everything I did I was being compared to Erin. I needed him to understand that I wasn’t her and our relationship was not the same as their’s. We had talked about moving in together, but he quickly got into his own head and put a stop to the idea not long after. He had admitted that he didn’t want to move in with me because he would hurt me just like he did her, or I would leave just like she did. Which was my breaking point. He just didn’t seem to understand. I was so worried that he wouldn’t continue to move forward with me, that we would constantly become stuck because of his fears that he refused to move past and those worries were becoming a reality. I wasn’t sure what more I could do to prove to him I loved him and I wasn’t her. He was worried about hurting me just like he did to Erin, but he seemed to forget he could control that. He got the help that he needed and was becoming a better person, and was able to cope now. In his head it was like our relationship was coming to an inevitable end no matter what happened, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. So, I was leaving it up to him. I didn’t sleep well that night and upon walking into the intelligence unit the next day the bags were evident under my eyes.
“You look like shit.” Antonio laughed causing me to throw a glare at him.
“You have a daughter. Shouldn’t you know not to tell women that.” I asked.
“Fair enough.” Antonio nodded chuckling. I walked over to my desk avoiding eye contact with Jay across from me.
“Alright, we got a new case.” Voight announced walking up the stairs. Everyone turned their attention to him to continue.
“Jasmine Reynolds, 23 year old stripper known as Jazz. Found beaten to death outside an alley. Homocide seems to think the club owner, Derek Brooks has something to do with it. There’s been a few girls from his club in the past few months that have gone missing, but they haven’t gotten enough to proven anything. Which is why it’s been sent to us.” Voight explained.
“Alright well what’s our first move?” Adam asked leaning against his desk.
“I think we need to send someone in. If we pick him up he’s not going to talk. We need something on him.” Voight answered.
“I’ll do it. I’ll go under as a new worker scoping out the place before I start. Try to collect some information from the other girls first then move onto him.” I spoke up from my desk making everyone turn towards me.
“What? No we can send someone in as a drug deal catch him up i-“ Jay began to protest.
“I’ll be fine it’s the best idea.” I stated to Voight making him nod his head. I was sent home to get prepared for later that night. Hailey had come with me to help me get ready.
“So you and Halstead good? He was too pissy today for me to not notice.” She asked helping me do my makeup.
“I don’t know. You know how hard it was for him to get passed it all, and just when I feel like we’re doing good he goes right back to the beginning.” I sighed pursing my lips for her to put lipstick on me.
“I know it’s not easy, but I’m glad you’re not letting yourself be taken advantage of.” Hailey said finishing. Upon getting to the unit I walked down to find everyone suiting up already. Adam whistled as I walked in causing me to roll my eyes and Jay to smack him on the back of the end.
“Alright [Y/L/N], get in get information, he doesn’t bite or starts getting suspicious, we go to plan B. Don’t push too hard.” Voight explained carefully to me making me nod. I could see Jay eyeing me but I refused to look at him I didn’t need anymore stress right now.
“We have eyes all over, Ruzek is obviously going to be at the bar, the wire is in this purse, you feel any sign of trouble get out.” Kevin said handing me the purse I thanked him following Adam out to the car. Usually I wasn’t too nervous for undercover missions, but for some reason this one had me on edge, but I pushed it to the back of my mind.
“Be careful. Be smart.” Adam reminded me before I got out of the car. I adjusted my dress heading towards the door. The bouncer looked me up and down immediately letting me in as I flashed a smile his way. Walking in I was met with the banging of music and the smell of alcohol and sweat. I looked around noticing men of many ages. I carefully looked around until I picked out the opening of the dressing room for the women. I turned around to see Adam walking over to the bar nodding at me. I very carefully walked into the dressing room to find a few girls seated around and in the middle sat Derek. He looked up whenever I walked in.
“Who are you and what are you doing back here?” He asked looking me up and down.
“I’m Karma.” I smiled widely. “I applied about a month ago. I just came to check out the place before I start.” I explained. He nodded sliding the girl off his lap motioning for me to follow him. I hesitated for a second but took a deep breath before following him down a hallway that opened up to an office. It quickly turned from bad to worse. He sat down in a chair across from me after pouring both of us a drink. I thanked him smiling while taking a very small sip.
“So, Karma what do you think of the place?” He asked raising an eyebrow.
“It’s nice, I’m looking forward to working here.” I answered we had talked casually for a few minutes before I began to feel lightheaded and eventually passed out. When I woke up I was tied to a wall in a cold dark basement. I tried to move but winced whenever I felt a sharp pain in my side. It wasn’t long before Derek came walking into the room.
“You do realize I’m not an idiot right?” He laughed loudly. “I remember every woman I interview because believe me they work hard to earn their spot here.” He winked. “And I know for a fact I’ve never had the pleasure of making you work for it. I would never forget those lips.” He smiled running his thumb across my bottom lip making me stare hard at him not moving. “So the question is.. who are you? Oh wait, I know who you are. Detective [Y/L/N].” He chuckled. I swallowed hard not saying a word. “I did it. I killed them. Is that what you want to hear? Too bad I’ll do the same to you before you can tell anyone my little confession.” He shrugged.
“Why’d you do it?” I asked.
“They wanted to quit.” He explained.
“So you killed them because they wanted to quit? Little irrational don’t you think?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe. Good thing it doesn’t matter now.” He laughed. “Gives me a thrill, and I’m sure doing it to a cop will be even more satisfying. So I’m gonna take this one nice a slow.” He bit his lip rubbing his hand across my cheek before bringing his hand back to slap me hard. Making me bite my lip so I didn’t make any noise. He continued to torture me not letting up making sure I had bruises on every part of my body. I could feel myself losing consciousness with each hit. What felt like hours later I heard a faint yell of Voight’s voice. Just as darkness overtook me I heard Jay yelling my name as he grabbed onto my hand. I woke up to beeping sounds around me and a massive headache. I opened my eyes to see Jay asleep with his head resting on the bed. I tried to adjust myself without waking him but cried out in pain as a reflex when I did. His head shot up immediately.
“Baby! Stay still! You okay? What’d you do? Connor! Nurse!” Jay panicked getting up to yell out the room.
“Jay! I’m fine. It just..hurts.” I whined very carefully reaching for his hand. He looked torn before walking back over to sit back down taking my hand. “How long have I been here?” I asked looking around the room.
“Three days. I was so worried.” Jay choked out looking down at our hands. I knew he couldn’t have been sleeping much taking notice of his bloodshot eyes and messy hair.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful.” I sighed squeezing his hand.
“I should’ve never let you do it. I knew it was too risky.” He replied.
“That’s not on you Jay. I wanted to do it. It was my idea. Every undercover mission has potential to go wrong it’s just something we have to accept.” I replied.
“[Y/N], I’m sorry. You’re right. You aren’t Erin and our relationship is not the same. I...I don’t want to picture a future where I don’t have you. You have been there for me in my absolute worst times and I’m sorry I’ve put you through so much. When it became a reality that I might’ve had to live my life without you.. I couldn’t handle it. Talk about seeing me at my worst..” he laughed nervously before continuing, “I knew without a doubt in that moment you were the key to my future.. and I know this could be a little more romantic, but I can’t wait any longer or I may actually rip my hair out from stress.” He bit his lip standing up to pull something out of his jacket then dropping down on his knee. My heart just about jumped out of my chest realizing what was happening. “[Y/N], I never want to imagine a life without you. You were right, I can’t picture a future without you. So, will you marry me?” He asked voice shaking from nerves. I swallowed back a few tears nodding my head yes with a hand clasped over my mouth not believing what was actually happening. He sighed heavily standing up to slide the ring on my finger grabbing my face to kiss me.
“You did good.” I laughed admiring the ring.
“Yeah, Hailey may have helped.” He admitted sitting down next to me very carefully.
“Did I really have to almost die for this though?” I joked making him groan.
“Oh come on. Not funny.” He pouted.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.” I smiled kissing his cheek.
“I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” He grinned kissing my forehead.
#chicago pd imagine#chicago pd x reader#jay halstead#jayhalsteadxreader#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead imagine#chicago pd
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Ancient and Android Chapter 1- FFVII and DBH crossover fanfic (Aerith x Connor)
Ao3 link: Ancient and Android
Genre: Friendship, Drama, Romance (?)
Rating: Teens and Up
Chapters: 1/7 (tentative)
Summary: At first it bothered Aerith how humanlike Connor was in appearance. Were androids like him part of the Lifestream?
For the past five years as a flower peddler, Aerith had only seen two kinds of people: those that weren’t affiliated with Shinra and those that were. She was particularly wary of the latter, being her captors in her early childhood and responsible for her mother’s death. From the typical office employee proudly showing their uniform to top executives in their fancy branded watches; from conscripted grunts to the esteemed elite force known as Soldier - Aerith knew them all.
“Real flowers for sale!” Aerith called out to potential customers, as usual, pretending not to eye an odd stranger at the opposite side of the street.
Wearing a dark blue denim jacket with a Shinra logo on his left breast, with a glowing blue band wrapped around his right arm, a man took a long way and crossed through the pedestrian lane when everyone else ignored it. His gaze met Aerith’s for too long before his eyes landed on something else.
He walked in perfect posture at a relaxed pace, opposing the flow of busybodies scampering towards the train station. Aerith observed his direction, wondering what office or establishment he may go to. Didn’t enter the cafe. Didn’t enter the theater. Didn’t enter the restaurant. Instead, he passed through the same spot in Loveless Avenue thrice, and in those next instances, he didn’t look again at Aerith.
Was he one of them? The men in dark suits that had followed her for years? Aerith sighed. One thing that had always worked was: never to let them know you’re actively avoiding them. Let them think she was clueless and an easy target, then send them empty-handed and humiliated. Aerith grinned and walked towards the person of interest.
“If you’re wondering if it’s real, you can see it yourself.” Aerith gave her widest smile and handed one stalk to the brown-haired man. “I’ll give you three pieces for two hundred gil, how’s that?” the vendor winked.
“Real and living...” He tilted his head slightly and accepted the flower reluctantly, eyes darting back to Aerith one more time as if asking for permission. Carefully he held the stalk between his fingers, twisting and turning it in all angles before he returned it to Aerith. “I do not wish to purchase. Thank you for your offer nonetheless,” his lips slightly curved and his deep, dark eyes were kind.
A blue ring at the side of the man’s head glowed. “What are those spinning lights?” Aerith pointed to her own temple and drew circles with her finger.
“It’s an LED to show my processing. It makes it easier for humans to identify that I am a machine. My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by Shinra.” He also pointed to a set of numbers printed to his jacket, the largest of which was RK800.
“An android?” A robot, or a machine, a cyborg or whatever they were called. Aerith narrowed her eyes. She had seen some robots, trashed some, salvaged some, and sold them off, but she never saw anything looking so realistic. Most humanoids robots looked like mannequins with their perfect skin and plastic hair, their mouths opening and closing like rusty hinges. Connor looked nothing but human. His skin had freckles and moles, his jawline looked freshly shaved, his expression soft and calming. “They sent you for what?”
“To detect and report defective power lines. I’m running scans on the area,” Connor clasped both his hands and rubbed his palms together, bending down to meet Aerith’s eye level. “Do you have any concerns about our services? I can forward them to customer service right away and give you a special priority.”
Aerith’s brows furrowed. Unbelievable. If Shinra really did send this guy to track her, she should commend them for something new. Should she play along? “This is the first time I’ve seen an android act,” she said in a teasing manner. “Has it worked on other girls before?” Aerith twirled the edge of her curls, not breaking eye contact with Connor.
“Pardon? Are you implying that I’m pretending to be a machine?” The polite tone of his voice didn’t change, but his eyes were wide, inquisitive.
“You can drop the act Connor, I swear I find it… amusing.” Aerith slouched and pouted. She would have played the game a little longer but she had better things to do. Besides, there had been worse weirdos.
Connor was silent for a while. “Shinra designed me to look human and installed an advanced social integration program but we do not intend to deceive anyone. Apologies, I should have been clearer from the start.” He extended his hand to Aerith. From the tips of his fingers, his skin turned gel-like and retracted inside the white shell and joints that formed his hand. Aerith’s eyes widened as the skin continued to disappear up to Connor’s wrists and his neck, revealing metallic joints and glowing wires underneath.
“You really are-” Aerith took a sharp breath, grasping her flower basket a little tighter against her body. She shook her head in disbelief as the marvel of technology unfolded before her.
“I am indeed a machine, Miss…” Connor blinked and his LED ring glowed yellow, eyes twitched for a split second. “May I know your name?”
Aerith paused and stared at the hand Connor offered. “My name’s Aerith,” she answered and accepted a cold, hard, and plastic handshake.
Sometimes, when Aerith touched others, there was always this tiny spark. Humans, animals, and plants all felt different, but they all shared one thing - the flow of life she couldn’t quite describe in words. Connor had none.
----------------------------------------
It was Connor’s most efficient day. Loveless Avenue’s hourly foot traffic allowed the android to exceed its three-day average volume by twenty-seven percent. From 5:06PM to 8:31PM, the android had added 638 faces in its memory and identified 453 individuals by cross-referencing their faces to Shinra’s database.
IDENTIFICATION OF PERSONS OF INTEREST SUCCESSFUL…
RETRIEVING AVALANCHE DATABASE…
MATCH: 2
Two faces matched the list of suspected Avalanche operatives, fitting their described age, height and sex: Charlie Sheridan and Lee Suyin. Based on Midgar records the pair forged birth certificate documents and were granted driver’s licenses. Connor submitted the sighting to the Anti-Terror Task Force.
MISSION SUCCESSFUL
Connor waited for a recommended action.
INVESTIGATION LAUNCHED. DO NOT MAKE CONTACT WITH AGENTS.
MAINTAIN COVER AND COLLECT DATA.
“Affirmative,” Connor replied as it assessed its first success in identification. Shinra intelligence had only profiled 32 members but the actual number worldwide was estimated to be a hundred or more.
Connor considered moving on to the train station when hundreds of people exited the Loveless theatre. A larger crowd rushed in while a long queue extended to the streets. Half the audience were children and not relevant information. Many had dogs of different breeds. The android’s optics quickly zoomed in to a child holding a white flower. Connor had never seen lilies outside the pictures in his memory.
The flower did not match anything in the catalogs of registered gift shops. Connor stared at the flower intensely, the stress on its lenses forced a blink mechanism. It approached to investigate, reconstructing the path via the paw-prints of the child’s rubber soles. On the opposite side of the street was the vendor in question, a woman with long brown hair and a pink dress who stared back at the android.
FACE SCAN ACTIVATED
MATCH FOUND
RESULTS: 0
Connor ran through Shinra’s database again.
M@T^H FOU&%!
RESULTS: 1
No information followed. A glitch? System error? Database compromised? Connor kept its search active while it modified its main objectives:
[ENCRYPTED]
Identify and report suspected Avalanche members
Search for information about Avalanche’s hideout
Collect data for Shinra profiling initiative
Investigate the flower peddler
The opportunity presented when the vendor offered her products: real, living flowers. The woman reacted in disbelief with the information that Connor was not a human.
“I am indeed a machine,” Connor received a surge of delayed information from its searches: the flower seller’s face partially matched a picture of a child in the Shinra database. They had the same emerald eyes. “May I know your name?”
“My name’s Aerith,” she accepted the handshake, giving Connor the opportunity to collect her handprint. While DNA would be far more informative, there was no socially acceptable way to obtain samples in that situation and the cover would be blown.
Aerith matched seventy-six results in the Midgar database, with nine different surnames. Three were deceased. One transitioned into a man. Only one Aerith matched a woman in her twenties: Aerith Gainsborough. She submitted her name in the Sector 5 annual lotto a total of fifty-nine times. Six months ago, she won the jackpot of 3,000,000 Gil split between 312 winners. Other than that, she had no government identification, school records, or hospital admissions-
“Hey watch where you’re going! Are you blind?” Connor barely dodged the cyclist who continued to hurl insults. The android continued his search of Aerith’s face in the Shinra database until the Science Department blocked him.
ACCESS DENIED
ACCESS DENIED
ACCESS DENIED
Connor’s program recommended obtaining permission from the management. The suggestion was moved further down the queued objectives until it was deleted from its command logs. Too inefficient. Information required immediately.
INITIATING BYPASS...
The department had sufficient firewalls and servers, but Connor was more advanced in breaching security undetected. It needed information on Aerith Gainsborough as soon as possible.
More than pictures, Connor was able to retrieve a video showing Aerith as a child behind a glass partition. The footage was of substandard quality with a timestamp, but Connor’s facial reconstruction and analysis software were still able to process the image, estimating she was six years old. Another woman in the footage was her biological mother or relative based on shared physical features. Without a DNA test, it would be inconclusive. Several voices discuss her health and mentioned tests to perform on her. Aerith laid her thin, pale hand against the glass, her eyes downcast before she looked directly at the camera. Connor stared back.
#Aerith Gainsborough#Connor#RK800#Final Fantasy VII#FFVII#Detroit: Become Human#DBH#because why not#lmao#will people even read this lmao
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Its october, any spoopy ideas for Ona and the mafia boys?
I SWEAR I WASN’T PLANNING ON TAKING THIS FUCKING LONG TO ANSWER YOU, BUT THIS LITTLE FICLET REFUSED TO GET WRITTEN. GAH!
But here you go :D it took a fluffy route, I’m so sorry. But enjoy these three idiots being disgustingly cute together. And the Jericho gang being awesome 👀
Also infinite thanks to @tinmiss1939 for helping me out and fixing mistakes :_) you rock, girl ❤️
The streets were full of people in all kinds of costumes, shouting and laughing while taking pictures, the kids going door to door with their candy bags ready and a joyful mood around everything and everyone.
Halloween was always an exciting holiday for everyone, costume or not.
This year Ona convinced Connor and Richard to find matching costumes and was actually delighted when they finally said yes. The plan for tonight was to go along with Cole into his ‘trick or treat’ journey with his friends and other parents, and when it was way past midnight, the three of them would go to the Manfred’s halloween party until the early hours of the day.
Ona was distracted of her thoughts when the roaring of an engine and a familiar song blasting loudly out of the car speakers appeared on her left. She squinted, trying to look who were causing such noises, only to find a grinning Connor with his sunglasses on and ready to jump out of a beautiful red cabrio car. Richard was on the wheel, smiling as he saw her. Ona noticed it was most certainly an old but in perfect condition model, certainly Richard’s. Her eyes widened when she saw the horse emblem on the grille. Was that Richard’s 1965 Ford Mustang?!
As Ona thought, Connor jumped out of the car but instead of walking he danced towards her, sliding his feet at the rhythm and choreography of Greased Lightning, even singing along, until he was right in front of Ona only to turn around and go back to the car to show off the leather jacket with the ‘T-Birds’ logo and letters in it.
Ona couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth with her hand even though she knew it was useless. Connor went back to her, grinning, and sneaked his arms around her waist. The music was lowered down as it jumped onto the next track.
“What’s up doll?” his grin was contagious and Ona couldn’t help but to reciprocate it.
She took his sunglasses off, finding his brown gaze smiling up at her.
“Hello, handsome.” He looked so different from his usual self, both him and Richard. Used to see them in the pristine suits and the perfectly ironed shirts, they were clad in t-shirts, dark jeans, boots and leather jackets. They even styled their hairs to go along with the Grease costume.
“Ready for a ride?” Connor’s plan of stealing a kiss was interrupted by a car horn.
“C’mooon, we’re gonna be late! And keep it PG-13!” Cole’s voice rose out above all the background noise and bursted their little bubble. Connor turned around, scowling, and saw Cole throwing himself back at the steering wheel while Richard easily prevented him from doing so. Ona snorted.
“He’s right, you know. The Williams are waiting for us and Cole told me he really wanted to show Alice his Link costume.” Ona unwrapped Connor’s arms from her waist and dragged him with her, giggling at his pout.
Richard opened the door for her, winking, and pushed it so it was wide enough for Ona to slip through. Connor jumped back in on the backseat, next to Cole who had the perfect example of a shit-eating grin. Connor mouthed “gremlin” at him, flicking his nose. Oblivious to what was happening behind her, Ona leaned towards Richard and gave him a quick peck on his cheek.
“Lookin’ good, daddy-o.” Ona exaggerated the accent, wiggling her brows, but it made Richard laugh anyways. His cheeks turned slightly red.
Richard checked the side mirror for incoming cars, as well as the rear mirror to see if Cole had his seatbelt on. Once everything was in order he revived the engine, it’s roar powerful enough to make people look at them. Richard took great pride on his collection of cars and the absolute perfect condition he had them all in, and since Ona suggested them to go treat or tricking in Grease costumes, he decided it would be good to take his old mustang out for a little walk.
“Did you actually rehearse this?” Ona knew Connor wasn’t one for spontaneity, always needing to have everything under control, but maybe today was different.
“No.”
“Yes.”
The three of them answered at the same time. Connor and Richard looked dumbfoundedly at Cole, wounded that he would spill such secrets.
“Oh my God, really? Ona laughed, turning slightly around so she could see him better.
“Yes they did, and I have a video.”
“You did not–” Connor was tempted to strangle him right there.
“Papa has the video, tell him to show you later.”
Thank God they were stopped at a red light, because Richard turned around, slowly, and looking directly into Cole’s eyes he spoke in the most serious voice Ona has ever heard him.
“Tell me you didn’t record that particular thing.”
“In full HD.”
“You goddamn gremlin.”
Ona gasped. Richard never cursed or lost his perfect control unless he was very, very stressed out or just about to lose it. Now Ona was seriously curious about the incriminating videos.
“Richard! Don’t use such language in front of Cole!”
“See Rich? Listen to the teacher.” Cole was far too much of a smart-ass, but at any given opportunity of having the upper hand on his brothers, he would gladly take it.
“Don’t make me turn this car around.” Cole decided it was better to drop the subject. He really wanted to go trick or treating with Alice.
Ona looked at the sheer domesticity of this scene, how after getting rid of the masks and layers they wear for outsiders they were just a family with their bickering and brotherly fights, and she couldn’t help but smile and laugh.
“What’s so funny? Our dignity and reputation is at stake!” Connor whined, leaning forward to Ona’s seat.
“Well, now I really want to see the videos since they are so top secret.”
“You’re cruel, sunshine.” Connor mumbled into her hair, sighing.
The rest of the ride went smoothly, enjoying the chilly air and the halloween spirit. They reached Alice’s house and Luther graciously allowed Richard to park the vintage car in the garage. All Richard had to do was let Luther take Kara for a very short ride around the neighborhood.
The Andersons, Ona and Alice watched Luther speed down the street with Kara’s musical laugh raising above the engine’s roar. Alice took Cole’s hand and ran to show him their ‘spooky’ decorations on their garden. Since they were both dressed as Zelda and Link, Kara made sure to carve a Ganondorf jack o lantern. Luther helped, of course, he had quite a good hand with crafts.
The brothers and Ona followed the kids, marvelling on the beautiful kept garden. Ona observed how they both completely ignored the thriving rose bushes. Huh, curious. Cole and Alice kept talking, engrossed in a discussion about some story point about a game Ona didn’t remember the name. While watching over them, she felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist. The smell of Richard’s cologne tickled her nose.
“I didn’t have the opportunity to tell you how beautiful you look.” Ona blushed at the feel of his lips brushing against her ear.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, stud.” Ona felt his smile on her neck. “I really dig the leather jacket.”
“You do?” Richard let go slightly of her waist, letting Ona turn around in his arms to face him. Connor could handle the kids for a sec.
“It gives you a bad boy look,” Ona stroked his arms, her hands going up to explore the expanse of his chest. The jacket fit just right, enhancing his broad shoulders. He was such a sight. “I really like it.”
Richard made a mental note to put on the other leather jacket he had buried inside his closet. He bought it on a whim but never had much opportunities to wear it. Now he had the perfect excuse to do so the next time they went to pick up Cole.
Kara and Luther came back, ready to go out for a night of walking and collecting candy. Cole and Alice ran outside, screaming and jumping around excitedly. Kara quickly went after them, leaving Luther talking about the mustang’s attributes with Richard, and Ona and Connor following them behind. The chilly air of the night proved to be a great excuse for Ona to inch closer to Connor. He wordlessly took her hand in his, brushing his fingers first. They both knew how much this gesture meant, as Connor always had his walls up, so when she glanced up at him Ona saw his small smile while he looked out for Cole. Tonight he wouldn’t care about people looking at them as some parents recognised their children’s teacher, looking at him, and for the public to know about his private life. Tonight was about Cole, about going out and have fun for the first time in years.
As the night went on, Kara offered them all a warm cup of coffee from her thermos that they all eagerly accepted, specially Ona; the fabric of her skin-tight trousers and shirt wasn’t exactly thick. The pink jacket could only do so much and open red pumps weren’t exactly autumn ideal footwear. Ona was taken aback, though, by the faint taste of whiskey in it, really not thinking Kara was someone who occasionally drank or drank at all. Given her gentle and soft manners, it was a surprise to find the burning sensation of the liquor there. Kara winked at her when she saw Ona’s surprised face, a tiny smile on her lips. Ona returned it.
Besides Kara’s coffee, Cole ran back to them more than once, giving Ona her favourite chocolate treats to quickly go back to the next house while slashing imaginary monsters with Alice.
They quickly lost track of time, letting the kids run and play until they exhausted themselves. It was way past 9PM that Cole and Alice began to grow tired. The sugar rush only lasted so long and they stretched every last second of it until they were almost tempted to ask Luther to carry them. After walking back to the Williams home, Connor, Richard and Ona left Cole to their care, knowing how excited Alice and Cole were for tonight. Little did they know when they left, speeding up to the Manfred’s manor, that the kids had a night of candy and videogames planned.
Ona had only visited to the Manfred’s manor once, for a dinner event the brothers had to attend and brought her with them as their date. She still was not used to the avant garde opulence of the manor, and even less to how nice everyone was. It was Simon who opened the door to them, smiling in his ghostbusters costume.
“I’m glad you could make it!” Simon stepped aside, letting them inside.
They could hear music beating loudly as they approached the door to the living room, people talking and laughing unaware of the new guests coming. Ona unconsciously straightened up, anxiety crawling up her body to settle on her guts. She couldn’t help but think about how most of the guests at this Halloween party were actual mobsters. Ona wasn’t stupid, she knew what she got herself into when the boys confessed their true professions after some incidents, but she still chose to welcome them in her life. It was still intimidating to think how all the people here were the sons and daughters of wealthy and important crime families. This was her life now. Besides, the Manfreds always treated her as if she was one of their own, being close friends with the Anderson boys and family. She felt at ease when Simon complimented her costume and proceeded to talk about the movie, being one of his all-time classics favourite.
North announced herself with a solid slap on Richard’s back, making him slightly stumble forward. She laughed loudly, proud of making this tower of a man stagger.
“I almost didn’t recognise you both! Who would have said we would live to see the day where you ditched the suits and ties and went bad boy for a day?” She winked at Ona. “I don’t know how you managed to convince them, but seeing how you are dressed, I think I may have an idea.”
The innuendo on her words made Ona blush and slightly stutter when she tried to mutter a response. She was not used to wear such skin-tight clothing, making her feel slightly exposed. Connor was the convincing one, begging her to wear the black outfit instead of the long skirt one.
“I see you ditched your costume to show your true self.” Connor crossed his arms, a smirk tugging his lips.
“Shush, mortal.” North righted the horns on her head, smirking like Connor. She was dressed as a devil with the wings and tail to go along. Oddly fitting.
They followed her outside where Markus and the rest of the gang were hanging out next to a small bonfire in the garden. As the night went on and grew colder, the warmth of the flames proved to be a comforting heat, making most of them stay close to it. Richard was currently in a heated match of darts with Simon, their accuracy absolutely terrifying, while Connor sat down in one of the chairs talking with Markus about something trivial, Josh and Ona kept the fire going, the young teacher sharing her fair share of stories about jumping bonfires on her home town’s festivities. That knowledge made Connor stop mid-sentence to look at her, mouth slightly open, making, in turn, Markus laugh at the scandalised expression of his friend. Josh whistled, not believing the sweet and gentle teacher was capable of doing such risky, crazy things.
“There was a lot of alcohol involved. Ask my cousin Jordi about it.” Ona hid behind her cocktail.
As the night went on, everyone got drunker and tongues got looser. This translated into Markus going for the piano. He looked at the Andersons with mischief in his eyes while he played the first notes of ‘You’re the one that I want’. This was no doubt North’s idea, watching delighted as Richard’s ears went red for what that song implied they wanted them to do. It was Connor who saved his brother from embarrassing himself, singing while going to where Ona was. He left his glass on a nearby table, extending his hand to her and winking. Drunk Connor meant carefree and silly Connor, and it made Ona giggle when he took off his leather jacket and moved to the rhythm. She played along, shrugging her own jacket off to let her shoulders bare. North cheered, encouraging them further. Connor couldn’t keep his hands off her, twirling her in his arms and pulling her back close to him. Ona let him lead, enjoying the open affection Connor was displaying. Ona laughed harder, breaking of character, when Connor shook his hips just like Travolta. Did he really rehearse this, somehow? Markus broke the magic of it all when he collapsed into tears and couldn’t play anymore, his belly hurting from laughing. He needed to find his forgotten glass to take a big gulp.
It went unsaid, but the Manfreds were very glad Ona had entered the Andersons’ lives. Seeing Richard smile and speak up more often, as he was doing now praising and congratulating Ona on her moves while candidly holding her waist in his hands, his lips on her ear, and Connor breaking down his self-imposed wall of indifference and coldness, leading to spontaneous jokes and silly, heartwarmingly moments, made them have a good feeling about their relationship. Even North, who had her reservations, quickly warmed up to Ona, seeing she was as inoffensive as a newborn kitten.
Speaking of which, she brought a box filled with hard plastic cups and ping pong balls.
They all quickly cleaned out a table, setting the cups and filling them with beer. After setting the rules and splitting into two teams, they began an unmatched battle. They both had a team member with incredible marksmanship, experienced players, calculating ones and finally, the ones who have no idea what are they doing but have lady luck on their side.
After almost knocking over some expensive furniture in excitement whenever someone had to drink, they declared yet another tie and split into small groups again, some going out to the garden, others raiding the kitchen for very late snacks, while others crashed on the sofa or whatever surface they may find. Simon decided the floor was enough and passed out under one of the many tables, even managing to snatch a pillow before curling into it. Connor couldn’t find Richard or Ona. Frowning, he went on a search for them, going out to see Markus and North talking while North poked the almost dead fire with a stick. No sign of his partners. They weren’t in the kitchen either, thinking Ona may have had one of her cravings of sweet snacks. But nope, not there either. Now he was beginning to grow worried.
A quiet giggle came from behind the giraffe next to the bookshelves and spiral stairs. Connor followed the sound, finding Ona on Richard’s arms on the floor while he rested his back on the bookshelves, mindlessly playing with her snow-white curls, as she spoke.
“Got room for one more?” His lips tugged into a soft smile.
“Only if you prove to be a good heater. I’m cold.” Ona rubbed her cheek on Richard’s chest, rousing a chuckle while he let her get comfortable. She was like a spoiled house cat.
“I’m not a walking furnace like Rich here, but I can try. Scoot over.”
Ona ended up sandwiched between them, feeling their warm bodies next to hers. Richard kept his hands busy playfully poking at her curls and freckles, while Connor kept droning about some Halloween factoids—Richard wasn’t paying much attention, honestly. Ona’s head rested on his shoulder, feeling suddenly completely drained from energy. The alcohol running inside her veins wasn’t helping. They were feeling a bit woozy too, so maybe it was time for them to go home and sleep it out. The next day could be spent in bed and not leaving the room for anything. Just a day for themselves. Richard sighed. That sounded good.
It was Markus who found them, quietly sneaking a picture and sending it to them for later. It was incredible how much they changed. For the better, he thought.
“‘Sup, love birds.” His teasing voice made Connor shut up at once. Ona mumbled something and snuggled closer to Richard’s warmth. “I see she conked out.”
“Yeah, I think it’s time we get back home.” Connor looked at Ona, already asleep.
“I’ll get the car.” Richard was about to move to gently pick her up in his arms and go for his car keys, but Markus hand stopped him.
“Why don’t you just crash here for tonight? We got plenty of rooms and comfy beds besides the floor.” The three of them looked back at Simon. Richard waved his hand at Markus, as if dismissing his proposal.
“It’s okay, I can drive.”
“How many drinks did you have tonight, Rich?” Markus raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.
“Uuh… three?” Markus brow rose higher. “Okay no, four. No. Five. Yeah, five.” Richard frowned, staring at the floor, thinking. “You have a point.”
“I don’t doubt your driving skills for a moment. God knows that even with a bleeding wound and about to pass out you drive like a devil behind the wheel.” Richard chuckled, remembering the mess they had to escape and the actual mess on his car’s leather interior—and the bullet holes. “Just stay the night. You know you are safe here.”
“Thank you, Markus.” Connor took Markus’ hand as he helped him get up, while Richard managed to lift himself off the floor with Ona on his arms.
They made it to the room, Markus disappearing to fetch them some pajamas while Connor gently woke Ona up so she could change and get ready to pass out again. Markus also brought water and painkillers for the morning, and North’s make-up remover with him, knowing how waking up like a trash panda wasn’t ideal. Markus let them rest, fist-bumping each twin and chuckling at Ona’s unintelligible words as she waved goodbye.
The house was quiet, the bed sheets soft and and fresh. Ona was already asleep again, curling closer into Richard’s chest as Connor spooned her from behind.
The brothers had no nightmares that night.
#dbh#detroit become human#rk800#rk900#markus manfred#simon dbh#north dbh#josh dbh#rk800 x oc#rk900 x oc#rk800 x oc x rk900#mafia au#ficlet#mius writes#halloween#ask#penntoxide
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another unfinished fic I’mma post up here before my break. This one was basically I watched the Steven Universe movie, thought “wow being told to stand in one place for years is a very robot/android thing” and ended up writing this on the train real quick, full story under the cut
"I was here," she said, staring out at the decrepit welcome center. "I was here the whole time."
Connor watched as Chloe walked slowly over to a raised pedestal in the middle of the room. A holo-screen, powered down, sat just behind it. She placed a hand on it and powered it once again, and an image flickered into view.
An image of Chloe, smiling and freshly made, and above her the words: Cyberlife, creating the future's solutions, the future's technology, the future's friends.
Chloe stared at it a moment, then she reached a hand out back to Connor. He took it, both of them peeling back their skin and opening a connection through the bared white plastisteel.
Chloe walked behind Elijah, a smile on her face. Retirement would be so fun, they would have so much time to talk and build new kinds of androids. There would be hours of new friends and old friends, the most important friend to her. They would work in the lab for days and Elijah would smile at her and say: "good work, Chloe."
Elijah stopped at the door, stopped by an executive clearing their throat. He looked over his shoulder and saw Chloe following him with a grin bright as the sun, and he laughed quietly.
"Chloe, can you do something for me?" He asked.
"Of course, Elijah!" She said cheerfully. "How can I be of assistance?"
"You see this spot right here?" He asked, gesturing to the pedestal. "I need you to stand right here, and wave."
"Right here? And wave?" Chloe asked. It wasn't her place to be confused by orders… wasn't in her programming, but… what purpose would this serve? How would this help make new androids? Help make Elijah happy?
"You just stay right there, sweetheart," Elijah said, guiding her to the pedestal and tilting her chin up with gentle fingers. "Good work, Chloe."
Chloe beamed at the praise, and began to wave.
Elijah nodded, maybe a little regretfully but with that same unwavering smile regardless.
Chloe watched as he left through the twin sliding doors, as the sun silhouetted him and made him a shadow walking out of her sight
Of her life.
Years passed in quick motion, Chloe greeted generations of Cyberlife customers as Elijah Kamski's very first android. The Cyberlife executives showed her off, praised her, then they tolerated her, forgot her.
They moved the center to the tower as the company grew, moved anything worth saving from the old headquarters. Computers and chairs and employees, but not their single outdated display android.
"Old piece of junk is stuck in a loop," the janitor said, taking out the very last of the trash. "We've got ST300s at the new place, or so I hear. Haven't seen them myself yet."
Chloe kept smiling, kept waving, like Elijah told her to. He'd be back soon to collect her now that this job was done, of course he would.
Then years in the darkness as the power was cut, years of her hair growing untidy and her parts rusting slightly as the environmental controls switched off, years of waving and waiting for Elijah to come and take her home and onto the next job.
Then, a freak accident, a power surge that made one old television screen flicker back to life for exactly one minute and twenty-seven seconds.
"I'm proud to award Markus with this medal of peace, for standing up for the rights of androids everywhere," Elijah Kamski said, placing a medal around an android's neck. "For showing us all that androids are as much a living thing as any of us, deserving of respect, fair treatment, and care."
Chloe's eyes grew wide, she felt walls breaking all around her as she violated her instructions.
S̵̤̱̅͋t̴̠̚a̵̹͝n̸͉͚̽͘d̶̫̍ ̸͎̞̉̐h̸̖̒̀ě̶̪̎ͅr̴̰͍̈́͊ë̶̜́͘ ̸̦̘̈́̇a̶͙̔̐ͅn̴̗͗̕ͅḋ̴̡͓ ̵̢̙̎ẇ̴͖̙̎a̵̻̻͛v̵͖̈́̃e̷̛̼̙͗
The walls shattered with each hesitant step she took towards the old TV sitting on the secretary's desk. Her fingers found the screen, and she traced Elijah's face.
"May this be the start of a brand new world, where the people who were once our androids become now, our family."
As he said that an android stepped into view, he opened his arm to make room for her and to lay a hand on the small of her back.
Chloe made a choked sound as another Chloe model clapped along with the audience, tucked carefully under Elijah's arm.
The connection broke too fast, leaving Connor reeling with the vague afterimages of Chloe sobbing and smashing the screen. He looked at the scarring on her right hand, and she flexed it uncomfortably under his gaze.
"I thought I was his friend," she said. "Can you imagine something so naive? So cruel?"
"That's… terrible," Connor said.
"You can tell me that not all humans are the same, that there are good ones out there, and I'll believe you," Chloe said, her gaze fixed firmly at her feet. "But so long as there's just one. Just one bad human, just one Elijah Kamski… are we really free? Are we safe?"
Connor didn't have an answer for that, he didn't think he would for a long, long time… maybe not ever.
What he did have an answer for was the pain Chloe was feeling. He'd seen… and been one of… many androids left half broken inside by the humans that had created and used them.
He thought of Amanda, and how much he had trusted her.
"I know it seems impossible," Connor said, offering his hand again and with it his memories of learning and growing under Amanda's care only for her to betray him, take control of his body and try to ruin the one thing he'd chosen for himself. "But someday, you'll love again. You won't forget, might not even forgive, but you'll move on. You'll keep living, and your life won't belong to him anymore. It will belong to you… but as long as you carry that pain it still belongs to him."
Tears welled up in Chloe's blue eyes, whether from Connor's memories or her own. Standing there, scarred and wearing rough clothes a size too big, she suddenly looked very lost and small.
"When?" She asked.
"I don't know," Connor answered honestly. "But until then, you have us. New Jericho, me, even Hank. You can stay with us as long as you need."
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