#anyway i just wrote about their first night together because connor handed it to me out of nowhere

[detectiveconnor]

the issue with having a second human verse where connor was in love with a guy who turned out to be a serial killer (whom Connor had charged & convicted, because he figured it out before any of his colleagues actually employed in the homicide area saw it) -- the issue with having this verse now is that he keeps handing me little snippets of their life together before he knew David was a killer. of their life together before David started killing people. of their life together when things were good and he loved him and believed him when he said “we”, and “us”. (the problem is that after the conviction, and moving to detroit, connor has tried several different therapists but hasn’t found a single one yet who has offered him the fact he is allowed to Grieve for something that he isn’t sure ever really existed. but it felt real.)

#connor Would be - he - regular human verse connor has never had a therapist outside of the work-mandated ones #because he has not thought it would ..... he HAS thought it would benefit him before but he was denied access when he was young #and he pulled himself out of things. by himself. he worked So Hard to get through the things he got through but he got through them #but connor in human verse 2 would.... seek out a therapist. for months and months after the conviction he'd want to find... #'want' might be a little strong but he literally resigned from his work. he *loves* his work. it is a Low Point #and the people he would normally lean on are all either David's friends or know him through wanting to appeal to his mother #he can Identify He Would Benefit From Outside Support #so after moving to detroit he'd be looking. he just ... wouldn't ... #therapists are hard to mesh with and connor would be exacting. he knows what he wants out of therapy and there are a Lot of therapists #who would not offer it and that's fine. but they're not for him. #anyway #sometimes connor has dreams that are just memories and cries when he wakes up and it's very annoying because he Doesn't miss him #but it's very annoying and exhausting to be tired all the time (sleeping trouble - difficulty sleeping anywhere but at home) #and when he DOES get to sleep he sometimes has to dream about. missing him #sigh #anyway i just wrote about their first night together because connor handed it to me out of nowhere #thank you connor that's very sad actually #(human verse 2 connor is also. not really in control of the eating disorder. he is still trying to... he is still trying but) #(it's taken a backseat lately and he. has. it has been an easy way to try to get some sense of Control) #(he knows it is not healthy but *that* one in particular. the ED. is something he has only Ever *had* to do alone.) #(looked for help before and been Actively Degraded and ignored for it. he is still trying.) #eating disorder tw

[cringefaildiaz]

oops, thought too hard about "I don't believe in magic, I believe in chemistry" "oh, it's science, I see" and "works like magic" and Buck's experience working in construction and I accidentally wrote a 6x17 coda

On the difference between magic and chemistry, and their relationship to thermoset adhesives

6x17 coda, ~860 words

“I have never been so excited to get a call from you,” Buck says, barging into the house with a plastic bag bearing the name of a local craft store on his arm.

“Glad my deficiencies are so thrilling,” Eddie breathes out. He’s trying to focus on the pieces of the model in front of him–Chris’ drafts are irritatingly well-labeled, which makes how much he’s struggling to piece them together that much more embarrassing. 

“Ah,” Buck grins, quirking an eyebrow as he settles down next to Eddie, drawing the model pieces away from Eddie to sit in front of him instead, “but it takes real wisdom to know when to call in the experts.”

He plucks the wall Eddie’s attempting to position from his fingertips, flipping it around and slotting it in place, right where it belongs. Eddie has the passing thought that maybe he should feel a little bit like he’s failing, needing Buck to come help him assemble his own kid’s design; he doesn’t, though. There was a twinge of it–when he was sitting here alone, staring at the pieces laid out on the coffee table, trying to make sense of it all–but calling Buck never feels like admitting defeat. It hasn't for a long, long time. 

“Sorry to drag you over here. I’m sure you have better things to do on your 48 off,” Eddie says, not really meaning a word of it until–“Shit, you didn’t have plans with Natalia, did you?”

Buck looks away from the model pieces for the first time since he sat down, his gaze dropping into his lap. On his next inhale, his face cracks into a rueful smile Eddie’s seen too many times before. Maybe it's a little presumptuous to think he can read Buck’s insecurities in the tilt of his mouth, but Eddie’s pretty sure Buck can read him the same way.

“No, I, uh–” he stutters out, and Eddie wants to scream at the world for putting him through this, whatever it turns out to be this time, on top of everything else. “I think that’s probably over. Kameron showed up at my place while we were having dinner, and I had just had to tell her about Taylor, and we had run into Lucy the other night, and–I don’t know. Seemed like maybe it was too much for her.”

Seems like I was too much for her, Buck doesn’t say, but Eddie reads it in the wobble of his not-quite-right smile and the sadness behind his eyes.

“Anyways,” Buck says with a grin, a real one this time, “that’s why I was so glad you called.” 

Eddie’s heart doesn’t skip in his chest, because what the hell would that say about him? Buck barrels on, “Kameron showed up at the loft looking for a place to stay–don’t ask, she was freaking out so much she wasn’t speaking in full sentences; except, conveniently, to tell me she really needed pickles; but I don’t know what’s happening with her and Connor–and then passes out in my bed, so I was stuck on the couch, and it sucks, Eddie, it’s so uncomfortable.”

“Well,” Eddie replies smoothly, somehow–despite the fact that he’d barely registered the majority of Buck’s run-on sentence, still stuck on the way his own breath hitched when he thought Buck had meant he was glad Eddie asked him to come over because–not important. There’s a bigger task at hand. “Glad I can offer you mine, at least,” Eddie says, gesturing at the couch, “for the small price of helping me put my kid’s genius plans together.”

“Like I wouldn’t do that anyway,” and Buck’s smiling so wide as he props the last wall up, it makes Eddie’s chest ache. Why is his chest aching? 

“Task at hand,” Buck says, nodding down at the level’s four walls he’s holding in place, “where’s the glue?”

“Epoxy,” Eddie says, grabbing it off the table and uncapping it, bringing it down to the point where the balsa walls meet the plastic base they’re building on, “I ran into Marisol, that woman whose house we helped fix up last fall, at the hardware store. She said this one ‘works like magic.’” 

As Eddie draws the little tube around the base of the four walls, hands slipping under and around Buck’s while they hold them steady, Buck goes suspiciously silent. Eddie glances up at Buck hovering over him, where he's now leaning awkwardly over the table to reach the model where Buck had pulled it in front of himself. There’s a funny look on Buck’s face where it looks down at Eddie, and this time he can't quite interpret the emotion behind it.

“It’s not magic,” Buck says, a little more pointedly than Eddie would expect for his usually whimsical nature, “It’s chemistry. I read about it a few weeks ago, when Chris was building that model water molecule for his science class out of styrofoam–we didn’t know why super glue wasn’t working and I went down a rabbit hole–anyways, its,” and he inhales, for the first time since he started talking, “it thermosets, that’s why it’s so strong. It’s chemistry.”

Forged in fire, Eddie thinks, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

#featuring extensive run on sentences as I grapple with trying to capture their voices #I havent written in a long long LONG time and never fic so #idk! hope its good! #PSA: this is not the correct order of operations when assembling a scale model #and also I don’t actually know the science of epoxy and I wasn't gonna try to figure it out #911 fox #911 spoilers #buddie #buddie fic #bean writes

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Infinite River

Photo: Doug Coombe

Infinite River is what happens when four veterans of the Detroit underground find themselves with a little extra time on their hands. Coming together during pandemic times, Gretchen Gonzales Davidson (Slumber Party, Universal Indians), Joey Mazzola (Sponge, Detroit Cobras), Warn Defever (His Name Is Alive) and Steve Nistor (Sparks, Daniel Lanois) let the music start to flow, using guitar, harmonium, tanpura and percussion to create a sound that’s equal parts arcing, droning and shimmering. “Their brand of drift is especially soothing and sublime,” Bryon Hayes wrote of their debut album Prequel, calling it “the perfect prescription for the current zeitgeist.” And the good news about that is: with at least two more full-lengths on the way (Space Mirror is due next, on August 18th), there’s enough to go around for everyone.

Speaking of spreading the love, guitarist Gonzales Davidson does some of that below with a list of some of her favorite music, much of which you’re sure to hear traces of in Infinite River’s sound.

Funkadelic — Maggot Brain

Funkadelic’s first few are just mind-blowing but this one… this one with the opening monologue and then that sundown-on-an-eclipsing-universe guitar solo. Just… damn.

Seventh Sons — 4am at Frank’s

I could put many ESP releases on this list: Godz 2, Albert Ayler’s Spiritual Unity, Cromagnon…. all make the world we drive through a little more chaotic and knowing. But Seventh Sons…this record shatters so many music genres in a true celebration of life. It is a crazy record. It is a perfect record.

The Flaming Lips — American Head

I have loved the Flaming Lips for a long, long time and admire their ability to keep releasing incredible music after all these years. This newest one is full of beautifully catchy melodies wrapped up in what seems to be dark, autobiographical subject matter… there is some heartbreaking stuff on here. And yet the music rises above and provides an epic experience.

Can — Tago Mago

Nothing much to say about perfection. Tago Mago is perfection. How the hell did anyone ever create something of this beauty? Just the first few tracks alone…those drums on “Paperhouse” — those drums that define Krautrock– FUUHHHHHKKKK — and then going right into “Mushroom”… taking off to Venus with a beat that is almost impossible to define. I love putting Tago Mago on the car stereo when trekking through the desert, watching the world around me turn alien.

The Dead C — The White House

How can I say it more clearly: yes, this is the album from Dead C that brought all of their weirdness together beautifully however, anything Michael Morley touches… one of the main Dead C members… is worth a deep gander. His new record, in the guise of the band Gate… is brilliant as well. I remember when Universal Indians opened for the Dead C in Detroit, and thinking — life could not get better. Galen, Aaron Dilloway’s band, was also opening, and it was so funny because Justin Allen, another Galen member, was grounded that night so they had to play without him. Anyway, The Dead C has been one of my favorites since the 1990s.

Simon Finn — Pass the Distance

The ultimate in stream-of-consciousness freaky folk music, Simon Finn’s Pass The Distance is a beautiful train ride through an enhanced artistic mind.

And a couple songs to consider for your listening pleasure…

Loren Mazzacane Connors — “Haunted House”

LMC has crafted such a unique guitar style, that he is sometimes overlooked in the grander discussion of life-after-John-Fahey. But don’t let that stop you from digging into his genius. “Haunted House” is his dark, sultry beautiful version of the blues… oh damn that slide guitar and his whispered vocals. Gives me chills every time.

Dino Valente — “Children of the Sun”

The rough life of Dino Valente, the original singer for Quicksilver Messenger Service who was thrown in jail for pot possession (oh sorry…FLOWER possession…should use the new lingo) right as the band was taking off. He would end up getting released and playing with them again. But it is his solo record that I love the most… with the songs of tough knowledge bleeding everywhere. This song is devastating. How does he produce an operatic tragedy in the confines of a song with just a guitar and vocals? WE ARE ALL CHILDREN OF THE SUN!

William Onyeabor — “Atomic Bomb”

I love the crazed funk that William lays down. “Body and Soul” is another great track of his… worth listening to… but “Atomic Bomb” — what the HELL is that sound he is putting together? It is not of this time… yet not of the time it came from. Did Randy Newman get sucked into an effects pedal? How much acid is in the water in Onyeabor’s Nigerian homeland? I mean… how did he make this groovy sound? I listen to it… I take it in… I love it… I get down… wayyyyyy down… and I have no idea how it exists.

#dusted magazine #listed #infinite river #Gonzales Davidson #funkadelic #Seventh Sons #the flaming lips #can #The Dead C #Simon Finn #Loren Mazzacane Connors #Dino Valente #William Onyeabor #Youtube

[imma-fucking-nerd]

Two Birds

(Connor x reader x Nines/Conan)

A/N: Hey y'all! Been a while since i wrote anything but these androids are givin me SO many ideas and SO much motivation. This, as the title suggests, is a songfic. If you know me than ya know this is gunna get sad :) sorrynotsorry. Also ik RK900 has a LOT of names but I just stick to Nines/Conan. Anyways hope y'all enjoy!

——————————————

It had been a good couple of months since androids were officially declared people. This made you, the android rights activist that you were, absolutely ecstatic to say the least. Of course you were glad androids were now seen as the people like they should be, but this change made you happy for another, more selfish reason. It meant that one of your favorite androids was able to break free from his programming that made him think he was just a machine, designed to accomplish a task. That android was your best friend and love of your life (be he didn't have to know that), Connor.

When you learned of Connor's dieviancy you were shocked to say the least. But oh how you were oh so happy. You knew he had it in him despite him always saying the opposite. There was just something about him that made you knew he was so much more than he claimed. You wished so bad that he would see what you saw. A person. A wonderfully amazing, sweet, innocent, and unintentionally hilarious person. So when he finally did manage to tear himself from the wires of his mission and see it too, it was amazing.

During the next months you happily answered any questions he had and helped him with all the new emotions he was experiencing. Along with the help of his adopted father Hank, of course. Both of your love for the dorky android seemed to grow a million times too, if that was even possible. Of course the types of love you harboured being very different.

However while Connor, one, of your favorite androids was excited to leap into human-hood, your other favorite was proving to be more....reluctant. That other android was none other than Cyberlife's last creation.

The RK900.

Nines to most, but you called him Conan. He only really ever let you call him that and sent anyone else who tried an icy glare that'd make anyone feel like they were just marked to an early grave. You only really ever called him that when you were being serious, or needed to scold him for being rude to Connor though. Which again, only you could ever get away with.

At first, you thought that meant that he was starting to deviate. Slowly, but surely. You understood that he'd take more time than Connor considering he was made to be more resilient than his predecessor and you were more than willing to put in the work.

Why?

Well you supposed you fell for him too. You blamed the fact that he looked nearly identical to Connor. And that he was tall as shit. And built like a damned brick wall. And made you feel so safe. And could serve burns to anyone that gave him sass (namely Gavin) that made you giggle every single time. You were practically helpless to his charms, and he wasn't even trying for Christ's sake.

You really did think that you were being successful in your mission to make him deviate, like you did Connor.

Pull him from that wire.

And he really did have you fooled.

When he came to you that one night, his steel grey eyes showing something you've never seen from him before. You thought that there had been a breakthrough. That he was breaking through.

When he told you that he was starting to feel, you believed it all immediately. Told him, "There's nothing I won't understand." with a hopeful smile on your face.

Why wouldn't you believe him? The way he sounded so troubled was more than convincing enough to you that he wanted to join his brother in being devient. Being human. After all, you noticed him watching Connor closely whenever he showed any emotion.

Another reason you were so quick to believe him was simply because you knew he didn't lie. He wasn't programmed to after all.

But that's the thing about lying, if one is good enough at it, a lie will always be perceived as truth.

That was your greatest mistake. Taking him for his word. Trusting him. You thought that since androids were supposed to be equal that that's what he'd want, right? That the reason he watched Connor being so unapologetically emotional it meant that he longed to do the same, right? That the reason why whenever Connor tried to help him or offer to 'wake him up' he refused was because he was scared and just wanted to do it on his own pace, right?

Wrong.

Oh so, so wrong.

But of course, you wouldn't find that out until it was much too late.

You invited both androids over to your place to just hang out after a particularly stressful day on the job. Whilst out on the field Conan nearly got shot in one of his more important biocomponants when Connor pulled him out of the way. Said something about fellow prototypes sticking together, all Conan did was nod, seemingly in appreciation. At least that's what Connor thought. And just like that he made the same mistake you had. Misplaced trust.

It was a stormy night out as the three of you sat on the couch watching tv, you and Connor talking about god knows what. Conan being as silent as ever. It didn't strike you as particularly odd, and neither did the side glances he sent to Connor. Glances that seemed more like intense glares. Like a predator watching it's prey. But you never noticed.

God how you wished you noticed.

How didn't you notice?

Maybe if you had you would've never left to the kitchen to grab a snack. Leaving the two androids alone. Leaving Connor alone.

You hadn't even been out of the room for more than a minute or two when you suddenly heard a loud thud. When you raced out of the kitchen to see what a the commotion was about your heart dropped at the sight infront of you.

There on your floor was Connor, and his therium pump on the other side of the room. He was desperately trying to crawl over to it, leaving stains of blue all over your carpet. He must have had less than a minute before he'd shut down. Before he'd die.

You didn't even notice that Conan wasn't there and at that moment you didn't have the time to waste to think about it. All you could think about was Connor, and how his hauntingly weak voice called out to you for help. 

You made a run for his therium pump and grabbed it but just before you could put it back where it belonged, hands suddenly grabbed you and roughly pinned your arms to your chest. In the sudden action the precious biocomponant was dropped to the floor by your feet. Your immediate instinct was to fight back but they were stonger than you, much stronger than you. As if holding you to their chest and keeping you still was effortless.

When you looked up to see your attacker you were horrified when you recognised those piercing, emotionless, eye staring down at you.

"C-Conan...?" Your voice shook as the betrayal that was taking place slowly sunk in.

"What are you doing?! Let me go!"

You tried struggling again but he just held you tighter to the point where you felt like he was going to break every bone in your body. Tears burned in your eyes and were quick to fall down your cheeks. All you could do was scream and sob as you watched helplessly as Connor still tried to crawl to his only hope of staying alive. Of keeping the life he made from himself.

But just as he reached for it, Conan brought his foot down upon the pump and crushed it. The sound made your heart stop and you let out a heartbreaking wail. With the last energy Connor had, he looked up and met his every warm choclatey brown eyes that you adored so much with your glossy (e/c) ones. He tried to smile, despite the terror of death he was facing. He didn't want you to see him scared, yet his LED which was raging red betrayed him. Opening his mouth to speak he managed to get out his final words.

"I love you."

You didn't even get to say it back before you saw his gorgeous eyes become lifeless, and his LED go grey. You dropped to the floor when Conan's crushing grip finally let you go and you immediately went to cradle the body of your poor sweet Connor. Your body wracked with sobs as you placed a soft kiss to his cold lips. Something you never had the guts to do before.....before it was too late.

You looked up at Conan with eyes that held so much pain, confusion, betrayal. 

"Why?" was all you could get out, your voice hoarse and barely audible.

What you heard next made your heart shatter into more pieces than it already was.

"It was my mission."

You watched as he turned his back and made his way to the front door, as if nothing happened in disbelief. When he left your eyes drifted down to meet Connor's one last time. You closed them so you didn't have to bare seeing how lifeless they had become.

You sat in that position for what felt like an eternity, every single thing that you could have done to prevent this. Everything you overlooked. Every lie you ate up. You couldn't move even if you wanted to. Not even when you heard police sirens. Not even when you heard Hank calling your name.

You just thought about how your want, your need to help Conan got Connor killed. How because you were so easy to trust him, your love was gone. Forever.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Connor was supposed to live life to the fullest. Experience what the world had to offer with the emotions he fought to feel. He was supposed to be free, and so was Conan.

But he didn't want to be free.

He was never going to let go of that wire.

———————————————

A/N: I'm hella proud of this as my first writing thing in a while. Or more proud of the idea really. Ik it doesn't have much dialogue and im gunna try n work on that in the future. Lemme know what y'all thought and leave a suggestion of what you'd like to see next! Love y'all!

#dbh #dbh rk900 #dbh connor #dbh nines #dbh x reader #dbh x you #connor rk800 #connor x reader #nines x reader #rk900 #rk800 x reader #rk800 #detroid become human #detroit #rk900 x reader

[sylvanfreckles]

I Didn’t Mean It (FebuWhump 14)

(Two in one day! Now I’m only three behind!)

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Summary:Hank's offer of a place to stay after the android revolution couldn't have come at a better time. Unfortunately, the issue of Hank's previous attitude towards androids still hangs in the air between them.

* * *

The hug had been a surprise, but not unwelcome. After the events of the last few days a simple gesture of camaraderie was very pleasant.

Hank slapped him on the back and pushed away from the hug, shoving his hands in his pockets as soon as he was free. “So, what's next for you?”

Connor hesitated. His eyes slid away from Hank's face, to the street behind him where a group of humans was loading what possessions they could into an already-crowded passenger van. “I'm not sure. I don't think Cyberlife will want me back after this.”

The lieutenant had twisted to follow Connor's line of sight and grunted in affirmation. “What about your new friends? That, uh, that Marcus guy?”

An unfamiliar feeling caused a momentary pang in his chest. The androids of Jericho had enough to worry about without him—the wounded sheltered in the church, the liberation of the androids still held in the camps, the rescue of the dozens still in hiding around the city. They didn't need his help, didn't want his presence. “I'll...adapt,” he finally said after a moment, offering Hank a reassuring smile.

With a roll of his eyes, Hank dropped a heavy hand on Connor's shoulder. “Well, my couch's free, if you need a place to crash.”

Connor began to reply, but his gaze was suddenly caught by the scrape on Hank's cheek, left there by the other RK800 they'd faced in the warehouse. The wound was still red and irritated, though it would undoubtedly fade over the next few days.

We don't bleed the same color.

“Thank you, but I'll be all right,” Connor said.

“Come on,” Hank squeezed Connor's shoulder and leaned in further. “Where else you gonna sleep, huh? My place is a hell of a lot warmer than some park bench.”

“If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of ya in a dumpster and set a match to it.”

Connor gently twisted away from the man's grip and brushed at the wrinkles in his jacket. They had been through much together in the last few days, but he wasn't so sure a few words spoken in the heat of the moment could really overwrite years of prejudice. “I can recharge at the station,” he replied simply. “Or, if Captain Fowler won't permit it, there should be a few public stations still standing.”

“Jesus, Connor, you think I'm just gonna let you wander off on your own?” Hank shook his head and threw his free arm up in a shrug. “Don't be ridiculous, I'm not letting you loose when there are still assholes out there knocking android heads off for chuckles.”

“Concussive damage is a faster death than incineration.”

When Hank's face paled Connor realized he'd actually vocalized that thought. How strange. His new emotions seemed to be disrupting the usual precise control he had over his speech unit.

“Connor...” Hank looked like he wanted to reach out again, then shoved his hand back in his coat pocket and turned away. “Shit. I fucked up, didn't I?”

Despite the difficulties they faced at the beginning of the case, Connor found he was unwilling to cause the man emotional distress. “They were opinions made in ignorance. You've given me no reason not to trust you.”

“Bullshit,” Hank's head snapped around, eyes narrowed in anger. “Why do you look like you're ready to bolt for it if that's the case?”

“I'm not...”

“Every time I take a step forward you take a step back,” Hank continued. He took a purposeful step toward Connor, and Connor barely caught himself before taking a step away. “You're afraid of me.”

Connor pressed his lips into a thin line. “I'm not...not afraid of you, Hank.”

“So waddya want me to do? Want me to throw away all the matches or something?.”

“That's not the point.”

“Then what is? Jesus, kid, I just want you to have a safe place to go, all right? I've gotten used to you over the last few days, and you're finally acting like a person...ah, forget it.” Hank folded his arms over his chest and took a few angry steps toward the closed Chicken Feed cart. “Will you at least let me pay for a hotel or something? Get you a few good nights in a safe place before you try to, I dunno, adapt to the world?”

Connor slowly approached the cart and leaned his back against it, standing next to Hank but not looking him in the eye. “The slogans on your screen were a bit...concerning,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well, I was stupid, all right?” Hank turned around to lean against the cart as well. “I know this might surprise you, but I haven't always shown up to work the sober and respectable lieutenant you see before you.”

He couldn't quite hold back the smile at Hank's words. “I have seen you vomit after consuming a high amount of alcohol, Hank.”

Hank waved the comment away. “Right, right, not my proudest moment. Anyway, I was pissed, had been on the trail of this kidnapped kid, and the captain pulls me away to go to some fucking android first aide course. We were probably too late for the kid anyway, but damn if it didn't feel like those two hours were the difference between life and death.

“So yeah. I was pissed at Fowler, and I wrote that shit because I wanted him to know how I felt. Wanted him to remember not to partner me up with a godda—with an android. I made a mistake.”

Somehow, Hank's story relieved some of the uneasiness Connor was feeling. “He shouldn't have pulled you off the case,” Connor finally said. “You're a good detective, Hank.”

“You too,” Hank replied, bumping Connor's shoulder with his own. They were silent for a few moments, then Hank awkwardly cleared his throat. “Would it, uh...would it help if I said I was sorry? Goddamn, I bitch about Reed not caring about his job all the time, and you come along and just try to get me to investigate my own fucking case and I treat you like shit. I know it's not much, but...sorry, Connor.”

Connor mulled the lieutenant's words over for a moment. Hank eventually gave a grumble and pushed himself away from the cart, angling his feet toward the car he'd left parked at the curb.

“Hank?” Connor called after him. The man stiffened and slowly turned back around, loooking like he was bracing himself for condemnation. “Is your couch still open?”

Hank's face split in a wide grin and he moved back to Connor's side to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Damn straight, as long as you can put up with a grumpy old man who needs mend his ways.”

Connor returned the smile and let himself be lead to the Oldsmobile. “As I've said before, adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.”

“Smartass.”

* * *

I've seen a lot of stories about Connor going to live with Hank, but not many where he apologizes for his shitty attitude toward androids. So I did it myself! I hope you liked it!

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday14 #i didn't mean it #detroit: become human #dbh #fic #fanfic #hank anderson #connor #found family #friendship #after the mid-credit hug

[connorandersons-blog]

Kinktober Day 9: Uniforms, RK1K

Funny enough, this was the first day I wrote! I bounce around a lot when writing things that don't actually go together. 

Hope you enjoy!

-------------------------------

It was a big deal to Connor when he was given a uniform. It was more for show than anything else since he was still going to work as a detective. 

Markus had been there to support him as more than just the leader of the revolution. Connor was the first android to be actually hired, ever. 

Hank had this proud look on his face, but Connor could see some of the sadness that would never go away. Would Cole have become a detective too? Would Cole and Connor get along? He really hoped they would have.

He'd never get to find out, but that was ok. Not in the sense that the death of a child is ok, but that he couldn't change the past no matter how hard he tried. 

Hank clapped him on his shoulder, and even Reed gave him a very small and quick smile. Connor thought it was mostly because Officer Miller had brought in a large chocolate cake to celebrate. (Then had been incredibly apologetic when Connor explain he couldn't eat yet)

Markus had stayed by his side, and when he couldn't he was always in sight and watching Connor. 

It was odd to have so much attention just on him because of something good. He'd gotten used to being focused on because of what people wanted him to do. He had decided to stay as a detective because he liked it and wanted to actually help the city. He wanted the androids to be given fair trials and their crimes not be skirted over because of being androids 

He had also been given a badge, but he hadn't been issued a gun. That was fine. It was a very slow process, but he was proud to have gotten even this far. He didn't really need a gun anyways, and if need be Hank could always let him borrow one. Not like they could find his prints on them. 

It was a few months later when he actually wore it at work. Though, it definitely wasn't for work purposes. He had talked Hank into getting him private access to an interrogation room without too much information given. He'd have to temporarily turn the cameras off there and Hank made sure no one went into the viewing area. 

This was all completely against protocol, but he figured he could break a few minor rules since he was deviant and all. 

Now he had to find a way to get Markus in without any questions from Markus or the other officers. At least with Markus, it wasn't a complete surprise. 

The night after he'd gotten his uniform Markus had whispered in his ear exactly how much he was proud of him and the certain things he wanted to do. Connor was making that come true. 

He had wanted to bring Markus in with handcuffs on but that would raise too many more questions. At least this way they'd just think he was stopping by for a quick visit, not getting arrested.

"Jesus, just cause your Robo Jesus doesn't mean you can walk around here cause you wanna visit your boy toy. You don't get special treatment." Gavin Reed said once he caught sight of the two walking towards the interrogation rooms together. 

First obstacle was going to be Reed. Not too surprising and far easier than it would have been months before. Markus, however, looked ready for murder. Which was quite an impressive feat considering he lead a completely peaceful revolution and stuck by the whole no violent thing. 

"Gavin, I know you may not be getting any, but that's no reason to take it out on us. Plus we do get special treatment, it's called racism and discrimination." He smiled almost too kindly at him.

Gavin was left gaping but also looking slightly impressed. Maybe there was hope for him after all. 

He moved on, guiding Markus away from Gavin with a hand on the small of his back. He really didn't need to actually arrest Markus for assault. 

The one good thing was that only a few people glanced at Connor when Markus was around, so no one really noticed that he was wearing his uniform. It helped play into his plans, making it seem like this was a normal thing. That he didn't wear jeans and whatever shirt he felt like wearing. Sometimes he'd even spice it up with a scarf, hat, or jacket. 

Yet he could tell Markus was definitely affected by it. His breathing was faster than normal and he kept looking over at Connor whenever he didn't have to pay attention to where he was walking. Plus he kept licking his lips which was proof enough. 

It was adorable how much Markus licked his lips when experiencing certain emotions, most of which Connor caused. That did make him wonder if he had a tale for similar situations. 

He pressed his palm to the pad and led Markus into the room. Without even blinking he had the cameras and audio turned off for the room. He'd just have to trust that Hank kept everyone else out. 

"Take a seat." Connor nodded to the chair opposite to the one he had slowly sat down in. 

Markus nodded, only looking slightly confused. "You said I may have witnessed something?" 

Connor nodded and rested his hands on the table. "I did. It's just protocol to bring you in even if you agree to an interface. Has to be all recorded and by the books, especially since it involves androids." That was true if there was an actual case. 

Markus nodded and then held out his hand. "Sure. You can go through any memories you want, you know that. If this can help, I'm willing." Damn this man was too good. How did Connor deserve him? 

"Actually, I have a few things to do first. Like I said, protocols." He slowly stood and swayed his hips just slightly as he moved towards Markus. "Can you stand up for me?" 

Markus's face flushed a dark blue but he stood as told. "Alright, now what, Detective?" Oh, so he was catching on, or just being a little shit. The likelihood of either was about even, all things considered. 

"Hold your arms out and spread your legs for me." He pulled Markus's arms up to show him before patting his arms down. Then he moved down to his chest, doing more than just the regular check. He let his thumb graze over where he knew and felt Markus's nipple were over his shirt. Then he slid his hands down his sides before squatting down and patting up his legs. 

He smirked up at Markus as he got higher up his legs, more running his hands along than actually patting. Who could blame him? Markus had killer thighs. 

He also knew to be gentle around the connections of his legs. They often caused Markus pain so he was gentle there. Then he moved his hands close enough to just tease Markus before pulling back and standing. "You're all clear. I have to do another thing, it's a bit silly but-" he trailed off. 

This part definitely wasn't protocol. Far from it actually. He pulled his cuffs made specifically for androids. Connor had been used to test if they could actually hold him, and he was shocked to see they could. Now all officers carried cuffs for androids and cuffs for humans. 

"Con? Uh, oh. Oh. Well, if you have to, Detective." Markus said, holding out his wrists. 

Connor put them on and then attached them to the table (which was also new and heavy enough that Connor couldn't easily pick it up and throw it). 

"Is that too tight?" He asked, sliding a hand up Markus's back and leaning down just slightly. 

Markus pulled at it, testing the strength. Then he looked up at Connor like he was going to die if he didn't kiss him. So Connor pulled away and went to sit down opposite to Markus. 

This was definitely going to be fun, especially with how needy Markus already looked. He drummed his fingers on the table, simply sitting and watching Markus squirm. 

He wouldn't be able to make this part last too long. Hank could only hold people at bay for so long and others would need the room eventually.

"So, do you know why you're here now?" He asked, using the voice he often used on actual suspects. 

Markus bit his lip and nodded. "I do." 

Connor raised an eyebrow, leaning back into his chair. "Are you going to confess?" 

Markus shook his head. "I can't confess. You'll have to force it out of me." 

That was definitely the plan. He nodded and stood up, slamming the table. Markus jumped, his eyes going wide. "Tell me! I know you did it, so you might as well confess. I don't want to have to use other tactics, you wouldn't like them." It was actually the opposite. 

"I will not talk." Markus looked up at him defiantly. That's exactly what he wanted. 

He unhooked the handcuffs from the table and pulled Markus by his hands so he was bent over the table, chest, and hips pressed against it, and hooked the cuffs back to keep him in place. 

Markus let out a small whine but didn't say his safeword, so Connor continued. He pushed Markus's head down onto the table then moved behind him, letting his hands wander. 

"Look at you, fucking naughty. I think you need to be punished for your crimes, don't you?" He trailed a hand down Markus's spine, making sure to not touch any skin yet. 

"Yes, Detective!" Markus said, shifting just slightly, but it was enough to let Connor know he was very much enjoying this. 

Connor gave a soft hum before sliding a hand under Markus's shirt. His fingers found every small dent and crevice that he knew by heart. He was sure he had kissed every inch of Markus already, but he would be happy to do it again.

Markus tried to push into the touch but Connor kept his chest pressed firmly into the table. "No moving, do you hear me?" 

Markus nodded again before stopping, "yes sir. I won't move." 

"Good boy." Connor moved his hand back down and then pulled Markus's pants down along with his underwear. 

The sight before him is just too good. He knelled down and spread Markus's cheeks apart and leaning forward, licking a fat stripe over his hole.

Markus couldn't help but cry out quietly, squirming and whining as Connor kept licking and poking at his hole with his tongue, loosening up the ring of muscle.

He could do this for hours, Markus squirming underneath him as he eats him out, his own hands keeping Markus's thighs apart so he can get a better angle. 

Androids didn't really need any prep or lube but they both enjoyed the process. 

Connor takes one hand off of Markus's thigh, bringing it to his hole and pushing in a single finger. 

Just like before he knew he couldn't spend too long doing this. He did have enough time from his calculations, so he kept at it, slowly adding fingers when Markus's babbling got more coherent. 

"Please! Con, fuck, please," Markus begged, and how could he say no to that? 

He pulled his fingers out, wiping them onto Markus's shirt. "So wet and needy. I bet everyone would love to see the great android leader like this. I could just send the video of this to the news and it would spread like fire. I wonder who's watching behind that glass?" 

He had scanned the glass multiple times but thankfully found no heartbeats. He highly doubted another android was there since they'd only hired a few others as traffic cops. 

Yet the idea still had Markus trying to find some kind of friction. "You-you can't!" 

Connor hummed, slowly unzipping his too-tight pants. "I'm pretty sure I can. Maybe that will be your punishment. Let the world see how much of a slut you are for me. You do put on a good show." 

He pulled himself out, stroking a few times. "Fuck yes," he muttered. He could get off at just the sight in front of him. Markus would like that too, actually. "What do you want?" 

"You! Please Con, Detective, I want you. Only for you." Markus tried to look over his shoulder but Connor forced it back onto the table. 

"I didn't say you could look." He scolded. "Though, I could just pass you around to the other cops. Let them have a go at you. They'd fill you up but you wouldn't be allowed to come. No, you couldn't do that until you were a whining mess and I finally got to have you again." He gently ran his hand down and up Markus's spine. 

"Connor please!" 

He gave a slight slap to Markus's ass, mostly just cause he loved seeing how shy Markus got when he did that. 

Markus let out a squeak, and he tried to shift. Connor didn't even have to look to know he was blushing and doing everything he could to hide his face. He really was just too damn adorable, and Connor couldn't wait to wreck him. 

He lined himself up, gripping Markus's hips tightly, and pressed the head of his cock against the hole. Just a little bit of force had Markus letting out a long whimper. Connor stayed still until Markus relaxed, and then he began to move very, very slowly until he bottomed out.

God, it felt amazing. Feeling this good had to be illegal in some way, it was like a drug and he was definitely addicted.

Then Markus whined and tried to move his hips, yet Connor kept them firmly in place. "Shh, not yet baby." 

He hadn't pulled his pants or underwear down so Markus would definitely feel both against his skin, but that was part of the point of the whole thing. 

"Detective, please, I need more. I promise to tell you anything you want! Just please move." Markus's voice was a mix of husky and almost static or glitchy, and Connor wouldn't change it for the world. 

He began to thrust his hips at the tantalizing order, slow and steady at first while he savored the feeling of Markus. He reveled in the small whimpers and groans continuing to issue forth from Markus's mouth.

 He increased his pace and intensity suddenly as his fingers dug sharply into Markus's hips. Sparks of pleasure pulsed through him, a pool of liquid fire filling his groin and drawing him closer to the edge. 

"Hmph, feel so good. So good for me baby. What do you need?" It was hard to form words but at least Markus was in no better condition. 

"I—I need to come," Markus whined, blunt nails clawing and squeezing the edge of the table. "Please let me come!" 

He kept his brutal pace, his fingers digging in enough that the skin retracted around them. Connor retracted his own around his hands and Markus didn't hesitate to accept the interface. 

"Fuck! Come, come for me." Connor said, barely able to hold himself back from the flood of arousal and love he got through the connection.

Markus shouted his whole body clenching and tightening. Connor grit his teeth but kept pounding into him, only coming after it just becomes too much. 

Markus's body shaking and shuddering through it all. Connor has to fight to keep his legs steady, but he manages to pull back out and walk to the corner of the room where he had put a bag before going to get Markus. He pulled out wipes and a thirium packet, along with a large hoodie Markus loved. 

He walked over and uncuffed him first, gently rubbing his wrists. "There we go, baby. You did so well," he murmured. 

Then he cleaned up Markus as gently as he could. Markus seemed content to just let him do this, moving when Connor asks. 

The look on Markus's face was pure love and Connor pulled him into a sweet and gentle kiss. He didn't feel the need to deepen it, just content to be. 

He pulls back slowly, smiling softly at Markus who looked slightly dazed. "Alright, I'm going to get you into this hoodie and we can sit here as long as you need. I've got some thirium for you too that you'll need to drink. Can you tell me how you're feeling?" 

He sat down on the ground, back against the wall, and Markus was sitting sideways curled against him. The hoodie's sleeves were long enough that they almost completely covered Markus's hands, but that's how he liked it. 

He took the offered thirium and sipped at it slowly. "I feel good, really good. Thank you for this, you're amazing." Markus pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before leaning his head back into Connor's chest. 

Connor rubbed slow circles into his back, letting out a relieved sigh. It wasn't too odd to not use the colors or safewords during and only realizing something made you uncomfortable or needed to be talked about until after. They had both had that experience a few times, and they'd talked out each one. 

"That's good baby, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Was there anything you wanted to discuss what happened or was said?" 

Markus shook his head, briefly closing his eyes. "No, I liked it all. Do you think you can get away with wearing your uniform at Jericho?"

Connor hummed softly, thinking it over. "I shouldn't do it too often, but maybe on special occasions. By the way, did you want to draw? I snagged one of your sketchbooks and pencils this morning." 

Markus chuckled, playing with the end of his sleeves. "I had wondered where those had gone. You know me too well. Maybe I can sit in the break room and sketch some people." 

Connor nodded but didn't move to get up. He'd let Markus decide when he was ready to move. "After work, I can take you to that park, I heard they finally finished the gazebo and it's supposed to be beautiful." 

Markus gave a small hum, snuggling closer. "Yeah. How long do we have until the room is needed?" 

"You don't need to worry about that right now." Hank would message him if it looked like someone was going to need it, so he wouldn't need to stay on alert. 

He really owed Hank big for this one. The least he could do was get him lunch for at minimum a month. He'd even get him a burger if he wanted. He'd also make sure not to tell Hank about what had happened at all. It was always fun to tease him, but he was definitely going to hold back on that this time. 

They stayed cuddled together for a while until Markus was squirming and ready to move. It was rare Connor even got him to sit down for a few minutes if it wasn't for drawing. Though, he couldn't really complain since he was a certified workaholic. It was nice when Markus finally took time to relax and just stay still. 

But that never lasted for too long, and now was no different. Markus grabbed the bag and put the empty thirium bottle along with the used wipes into a ziploc. 

"Time to get back to work, Detective. Don't want you missing out on catching some criminals. Hopefully, they all don't get the same harsh treatment as me." Markus grinned, bumping their shoulders together. 

"Only you baby, only you."

#kinktober #kinktober 2020 #rk1000 #dbh rk1000 #rk1000 fic #dbh rk1k #rk1k fic #rk1k dbh #rk1k #dbh markus #detroit markus #markus x connor #connor x markus #markus #markus manfred #RK200 #markus rk200 #dbh rk200 #rk200 x rk800 #connor rk800 #RK800 Connor #detroit become human rk800 #rk800connor #rk800 #Connor Anderson #Connor #dbh fanfic #dbh fandom #dbh fic #connor dbh fanfic

[mcchipisfried]

DEArtfest Day 8 - Dancing

Okay so this prompt is slightly connected to my proposal prompt BUT you don’t have to read that to understand it! Only connection between them is the fact that they are engaged for plot reasons.

I also have once again put in eastereggs! Really easy to find if you watched Detroit Evolution! (which you should totally watch again because c’mon it’s like the best movie of the year)

ALSO I listened to the Detroit Evolution Soundtrack when I wrote this and if you haven’t listened to it then??what???are you doing with your life??? Please listen to it it’s so good. I don’t know if any of the songs fit into the dancing but if you find a song from the soundtrack that fits please tell me! I’d like to see how other people see this scene through the music!!

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“Gavin do you know how to dance?”

The question had come as a surprise to Gavin, even more so considering it was Nines who had asked said question. If he was a different, younger Gavin, he would have flat out denied it, maybe even yelled at whoever had the balls to ask such a stupid question. In reality, you had to at least know how to move your hips in any club to get any of the attractive people in said clubs to even glance your way, which was something Gavin had often turned to whenever he was especially lonely and needed a little company. This wasn’t the case anymore. It wasn’t really all the action that attracted him to clubs in the first place, really it was simply being able to have someone in his arms or be in someone’s arms and feeling like he was wanted for at least a couple of hours.

Now that he was with Nines, he didn’t have to do any of that. He could simply turn around, at work, at home, in bed. and there he would be, with a pleasant smile and loving eyes waiting to give him anything he wanted, which more often than not was to keep standing there. To stay.

“Uh kinda? I went to a lot of clubs when I was younger so I can at least move to the music.” Gavin said as he turned to look at Nines. Nines looked back at him with a look that said “I’m processing this information and trying to honestly picture you dancing to pop music and it is hilarious”

“Shut up,” Gavin said, looking down and trying to hide his embarrassment.

Nines looked over at Gavin and smiled, the thought of Gavin dancing was funny in the most endearing of ways considering he could be quite clumsy so the thought of him maintaining any sort of rhythm was, for lack of a better word, immensely adorable.

“Why’d you ask anyways?” Gavin asked, curiosity quickly beating his embarrassment. 

“I want to learn how to dance,” Nines responded earnestly.

Suddenly the world seemed to stop. Everything in Gavin’s mind shut off. Nines? Dancing? No This had to be some sort of error. Maybe he’d heard wrong? Or had Nines finally hit his head hard enough in one of the many times he had to tackle the criminals they went after? No he had to make sure he was hearing him correctly.

“You? Want to learn how to dance? Why??” Gavin asked incredulously.

“Well dancing has always intrigued me. I’ve found the movements of experienced dancers to be graceful and full of life. From the research I’ve done it seems that dance has always been a huge part of human society and culture, capable of telling stories. In most cases people who often dance together have very strong bonds especially if said relationships are romantic-”

“Okay okay cut the research bullshit for a sec, can’t you just download some shit off the internet and learn how to dance from there?” Gavin, a bit embarrassed yet again asked.

“Well, that would have to be a very large and complicated update to my systems that would need to come from an experienced individual familiar with CyberLife’s code. And even so I wouldn’t be interested in learning from a program. I would much rather learn from someone else. Such a human activity, seems only fair I learn how to do it the human way” Nines answered, still looking intently at Gavin.

“I...guess I could teach you what I know. But I don’t know anything about modern music. I only know how to dance to whatever shitty club music they played whenever I had first become a detective-”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m not interested in whatever you call club dancing” Nines said.

“Then what are you interested in?”

“Slow dancing”

Okay now this had to be a joke because Nines never let anyone get physically close to him unless he was the one approaching someone or if the person about to touch Nines was Gavin. There was no one Nines would slow dance with unless they were Gavin. He began to blush at the implications of this and sputtered out an answer.

“Tin Can I-I don’t know how to slow dance and why would you even want to learn? You don’t even go to parties and I-”

“Gavin” Nines interrupted his small tirade.

“If I am correct, which I often am, weddings have a first dance for the couples getting married, do they not?”

The world stopped. It actually stopped. Well it had for Gavin at least. It had been a while since the proposal and they had thought about the details of it all. It wouldn’t be big, maybe a few people from work. Some family, even begrudgingly they’d invite Hank and Connor but for the most part they were content with a short ceremony because who wants to sit through that shit for two hours? And they’d end the night with a small party afterwards. Nines convinced Gavin to take part in some of the theatrics of “normal” weddings and that included the dance, among other things.

Gavin gasped and began to resemble an actual tomato with how red he began to turn and Nines smiled at what he thought was an adorable reaction from Gavin.

“I want to be able to dance with you and not step on your feet. And I want to keep dancing with you long after that day. Please teach me?” Nines said. Looking at Gavin like he hadn’t just said the most cheesiest shit in the entire world.

“FINE. Just cut all that cheesy bullshit.” Gavin said, trying to hide his blush by standing up and extending his hand towards Nines. Nines took his hand and quietly stood up. They turned toward the center of the living room and began to walk towards it. They quickly realized they needed to move some of the furniture around to get a good area to dance in without bumping into anything.

After they had gotten the table and some chairs out of the way they awkwardly stood across each other and eventually began to reach for one another, not quite finding the right places to hold. Gavin tried to put his arms around Nines’ neck while he tried to grab Gavin’s hands. It turned into an awkward mess which resulted in them both laughing at their awkwardness which eased the tension that had built up in the room.

“Look, if I’m gonna be teaching you how to dance then you gotta put your arm on my shoulder. I’ll put my arm on your hip and now you give me your other hand,” Gavin gently guided Nines into the proper positions. Now that they were both comfortable holding each other Gavin began to move.

“Nines you gotta loosen up a little. You're as stiff as a tree.” Gavin said, secretly smiling to himself at the thought of not only being better than Nines at something but to also get to teach him to dance was something he never thought he’d get to do. He continued to move back and forth pulling Nines along with him.

“I’m not sure on how to do that. I’m most prepared when I’m ready for action so I don’t know how to “loosen up” as you say,” Nines said, looking a bit embarrassed at not being good enough for Gavin at that moment.

“Well you’re not here for any action of any kind. You’re here to dance, so let your shoulders relax and let me guide you” Gavin responded. He gently pulled Nines just a bit closer and saw his shoulder go down and immediately felt it easier to move.

“That’s it Tin Can you’re doing just fine. Guess that’s what I should expect from the Terminator. Fast fucking learner,” Gavin tried to sound annoyed but he was honestly proud of Nines. He knew how hard it was for him to relax being an android and all so it was a pleasant surprise to find out he could relax outside of sleep.

Nines smiled at the praise Gavin gave him, continuing to follow Gavin’s steps and relaxing even more. They slowly danced for a while longer until Gavin stopped them and changed their positions.

“It’s your turn Tin Can. Just do what I was doing and don’t step on my feet.” Gavin warned, but he knew Nine’s had gotten more than enough practice for him to be comfortable enough to lead. Nines began to guide them forwards, and backwards, even going as far as to spin them as they moved. Eventually Gavin let go of Nines’ hand and put both of them around his neck while Nine’s put both of his on Gavin’s waist. 

They looked into each other's eyes as they continued to dance and slowly leaned in for a chaste kiss that they both smiled into, eventually pulling apart and continuing to sway to the music inside their own minds.

As they continued to sway against each other Nines smirked a bit at a thought that popped into his head and a few moments later began to spin Gavin once again as they danced, before bringing him back into his arms. Gavin laughed at the silliness of this and continued to spin each other around the room until Nines spun Gavin, and as he came back into his arms, dipped him and leaned in to give him a kiss.

As he pulled away and looked at Gavin, he saw that the detective had a rather beautiful blush that spread across his face and that his eyes looked surprised and a bit dazed. He was rather pleased with himself as Gavin came back to reality and began to blush even harder as he brought him back up.

“What dipshit programmed you to do that?” Gavin sputtered out.

“I’m the most advanced android ever made, Detective.” Nines said, smiling.

“Oh, you are such a fucking prick you know that? Learning how to do that shit without being taught.”

“Takes one to know one. And I may have done some “research” before coming to you about my inquiries.”

“Of course you would fucking research you ass!”

Gavin was laughing, still madly blushing but he was happy and Nines had never seen something more beautiful than this in his life. Gavin, laughing. Earnestly laughing. It was everything he could have wanted. As Gavin calmed down he felt Nines press his forehead against his. He looked into Nines’ eyes and felt his heart speed up at the stupid dopey smile Nines gave him.

“I hate you,” Gavin said, still smiling and a bit breathless.

“You love me,” Nines said, a knowing look in his eyes.

Yeah, he fucking did.

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And there it is! And here I am once again reminding you that I love the dialogue from the movie.

#fanfic #detroit evolution #reed900 #gavin reed #rk900 nines #dancing #deartfest

[wrightiverse]

Hello and this is me annotating/doing director's commentary for the last chapter of Crowd as a victory lap. There's no indulgence like self-indulgence.

“I’ll just make my hot young boyfriend help me,” Robin teases. “When I’m eighty, you’ll only be sixty-nine.”

I love to take a thing from the beginning of a story/scene and revisit it at the end. In this case, 'hot young boyfriend' is a light callback to 'sexy-ass, significantly younger boyfriend' back at the beginning when Robin was sad about the empty nest situation. This is, I think, the first time we specify their exact age gap. It is also the exact age gap I have with my own partner, because I’m very lazy like that. (None of this was written with any reference to what's gone on in the podcast over the last year or so, which is good because it sounds like the whole aging thing for Glenn could have gotten really confusing. Wrightiverse Glenn came back right after Ravenloft, none of that other stuff happened to him. It's all good. Canon is optional.) * * * * *

It’s not like the men in his family have much luck in that area, anyway; Glenn never met either of his grandfathers, and Bill didn’t make it much past fifty.

I think Meryl actually lived for hundreds of years and is still alive in Faerun and they should totally meet, but Glenn doesn’t know all that. * * * * *

Aesthetics aside, it didn't seem like there was much for Glenn to look forward to in middle age and beyond. Nick would grow up and wouldn’t need his dad anymore, and Glenn would be all alone.

From Glenn’s second chapter in Crowd, when Robin is sad about Connor leaving for college:

“I want him to be independent,” Robin is trying to explain into Glenn’s knee, “but also I don’t want to be all alone.” Glenn flicks his ear reproachfully. “You're not all alone. I’m right here, dumbass.”

Sometimes what seems obvious when we're explaining it to somebody else doesn't feel as obvious when it's our turn. Admittedly, Glenn is coming to this with a different set of experiences than Robin is. More on that later. * * * * *

His career would go to shit, because getting old only works for rock stars if they’re actually bluesmen in disguise, like Keith Richards.

I think I got this theory from something Chuck Klosterman wrote, probably Fargo Rock City. * * * * *

He starts his grounding exercise without even thinking about it. Five things he can see: one, an information sign for the city park. Two, a freshly-painted bike rack. Three, some big public art sculpture that looks like a giant rusty hairbrush…

This particular grounding exercise came up earlier in Crowd. I didn't make it up for the story, it's real and many people find that it works well. Feel free to try it! The exercise he alludes to when they’re on the beach, creating ‘safe spaces’ out of vivid memories with lots of sensory details, is also based on a real thing. Lauren, his therapist, is named after the therapist who worked with me on my own PTSD and taught me that and a lot of other good stuff. At least based on my own experience, I can highly recommend EMDR if you can find a good practitioner. * * * * *

It was a hella sweet gesture from the kid.

Connor’s introduction in Name has to do with him carrying shirts past Glenn, and one of those shirts becomes important later to Robin. Given how big the GC3 actually seems to be, I don’t think Connor did the majority of their merch. I assume they used a regular printer and Connor just did small runs of fun custom stuff when he feels like it, meaning not much changed after Glenn quit. * * * * *

Of course, Robin is the only member of the family wearing the shirt right now, because Robin is the only one who doesn’t care that it isn’t cool to wear merch from the gig at the gig itself.

I have no idea how widespread the ‘no wearing merch from the gig at the gig’ thing is, but that’s the rule I learned. * * * * *

Robin is chatting away about something, but it’s hard to follow with all the noise and distraction around them. Glenn decides to let it ride, and allows himself to zone out and just watch Robin talk.

As requested by my brilliant co-author, this is a callback to when Robin spaces out watching Glenn talk on their first date. Both Robin and Glenn are consistently very prone to tuning out when the other one is talking, but neither of them particularly care. As Glenn says on their dinner date - sometimes a man just wants to think out loud for a while and get a ‘hell yeah’ in response. * * * * *

It's vastly unfair that Robin looks so good in direct sunlight, but he probably pulls it off because he's the one person in Los Angeles who isn't trying to look younger than he actually is.

Glenn should spend less time in WeHo. * * * * *

There’s already more gray in Robin’s hair than when they met, although Glenn will only accept partial blame for that. Either way, the old man’s on track to be a full-on silver fox before he even hits fifty.

It felt necessary to drop a reminder that despite how Glenn talks about him, Robin is not actually that damn old. I mean, I'm sure that sounds very old to some of you, but when you're in your mid-to-late 30s like Glenn, somebody in their late 40s is not unreasonably decrepit. I think it has more to do with their respective energies than actual birthdays. * * * * *

“What is it?” Robin has noticed Glenn’s gaze, and he touches his own face to check if there's something on it.

Glenn grins. "Nothing, just ogling."

This is another callback to their first date:

“Do I have something on my face?” Glenn asks, and rubs at his mouth.

“No, you’re good.” Robin says. “You’re great.”

Because I adore a full-circle moment, that's why. * * * * *

“Your eyes were intense," Robin laughs. "It looked like you were going to start growling redrum at me."

This is my own fault for saying in the last chapter that Glenn was rambling about Kubrick moon landing conspiracies when he comes back from his walk. I tried like seven different ways to get them on the subject. I still don’t know if it feels natural. * * * * *

Glenn stabs an accusatory finger toward Robin. “Did you suggest not doing the show because you knew I’d argue with you and talk myself into doing it?”

Can’t outro this story without at least a little argayment.

Glenn usually finds him in the bathroom at the end of the night, looking grumpy about being up past his bedtime and holding some girl’s hair back while she barfs.

With what we've learned about Robin over the course of Crowd, we now have the context to understand that for Robin, this drunk girl is very much the ghost of Christmas Past. I don't imagine he goes to many of these parties.

* * * * *

It doesn’t bother Glenn a bit. Life isn’t a movie, the cheerleader doesn’t have to put on leather pants and start smoking in order to get her bad boy and her happily ever after.

I know that there’s more going on in Grease than that, but consider: would Glenn know that?

* * * * *

He and Robin are very different people, and they always will be. They don’t make sense on the surface, but they both know who they are, and who they are fits together perfectly.

Circling back to Robin at the end of Name, expressing his anxieties:

Robin rests his forehead on the steering wheel, avoiding Glenn’s eyes. “Like I don’t make sense for you, and everybody can see it.”

Some of the circles that I closed in Crowd were ones that were opened in Crowd, but some went back further. * * * * *

Love bubbles up in Glenn like a shaken-up soda, and he finds himself standing up suddenly and grabbing Robin’s shirt collar to tug him down for a kiss.

I wanted to mirror the ‘Hot Dad surges forward to kiss him, hard’ thing from the beginning, but given the established height difference, Glenn can’t just go for it unannounced unless he’s gonna stand tippy-toe. Thank you @whotaughtyougrammar for this art of what happens when Glenn tries the collar-tug and Robin doesn't notice fast enough.

* * * * *

Robin is caught off guard and stumbles half a step back, managing at the last second not to drop his drink. “One second, sweetheart, just one second. You surprised me. What was that about?”

Glenn gives him a lopsided grin. “Luck?”

“Oh, well, then. For luck.”

Luck and how to change it is a big theme throughout the whole series, both in the sense of ‘good fortune/unearned blessings’ and ‘random, unforeseen chance.’ More later about that. * * * * *

When Glenn presses his tongue forward to slip between Robin’s lips, he tastes lemon and sugar.

Same as the first time they kissed, when he’d been drinking whiskey sours.

* * * * *

“Right, yeah,” Robin breathes, but he doesn’t let Glenn out of his arms quite yet. “You know,” Robin adds, “Nick was telling me earlier that he’s going to sleep over at Grant’s tonight.”

So I'll be there when you arrive / The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive / And when you take me in your arms / And hold me tight / I know it's gonna mean so much tonight * * * * *

She’d found him there, and she'd saved him, like she always did.

We didn’t know Morgan’s name when we first wrote the scene where they discussed her in Name, so we wrote around it as though Glenn was reluctant to name her out loud. We maintained this throughout the rest of Crowd except for the line where Glenn says that he’ll tell Robin about the phone call with Morgan. Felt right. Her presence is very much felt but Glenn, at least, is not in the habit of talking about her unless he has no other option. * * * * *

They ran out of the venue and down the street, hand in hand and giggling like kids playing hooky.

@shrack was the one who began writing our Glenn with very physical methods of showing affection. I liked it a lot as a vibe and carried on with it. He and Morgan are also very young here. Glenn would be 21 or 22 at the oldest, which is barely older than Connor is now. I've always attributed some of his immaturity to the fact that he became a parent pretty young. (Glenn is 36 when Name starts and Nick is 13, meaning Nick was born when Glenn was 23 and probably conceived when Glenn was 22.)

* * * * *

It was like falling in love with every single person in the crowd, all at once. Glenn felt like he would never be lonely again as long as he could have that feeling.

Facing twenty thousand of your friends / how can anyone feel so lonely? * * * * *

By then, the GC3 performed in venues so cavernous that Glenn couldn’t see anything outside his own spotlight. He could hear the audience roar approval at him, making a wall of sound that he could feel like a physical force. It was loud enough to drown out the screaming in his head, loud enough to let him forget that she wasn’t out there among them. It was the closest he could get to forgetting, so Glenn did it as much as he could.

Part of a success that never ends / But I’m thinking about you only... * * * * *

Slowly but surely, he’d been learning how to go through life with his mind and heart focused on someone else’s well-being. It didn’t come naturally: that wasn’t the kind of family either of them knew. Still, they’d promised each other that they could do better than how they were raised.

I am never here for iterations of this dynamic that assume Glenn is the fuck-up and Morgan was the perfect parent. They both became parents at exactly the same moment, you know? The world does not need one more story with an incompetent sitcom dad and his smoking-hot wife who does all the actual parenting. * * * * *

Nick is long since asleep, but Adele fucking Close has stayed up until these sickening hours of the early morning.

Conveniently, Glenn’s brain has overwritten all his memories with the correct name and pronouns for Nick, because writing around it is a pain in the ass otherwise. * * * * *

“Hello, Glenny.”

Bill calling Glenn “Glenny” that time at Ravenloft really stuck with me. I don’t know if they ever revisited that in the actual podcast, but it was so slimy and chilling somehow. * * * * *

“I fucked up,” Glenn says bluntly, and his mother narrows her eyes ever so slightly at his cursing.

Glenn gets in his own head early in Crowd about comparing himself to Penny, and Robin later worries about putting himself on ‘the same level’ as Morgan. Neither of them are quite galaxy-brained enough to realize that there’s more than one person in Glenn’s life who uses a lot of terms of endearment for him, considers themselves old-fashioned, and wishes everybody wouldn’t swear so much. * * * * *

“Thank you, mother,” Glenn grits out. He sounds absolutely nothing like himself, not that she minds. “I appreciate your help.”

I assume that part of the reason Glenn has such a hard time offering genuine apologies is that when he was growing up, too much of his apologizing was forced rather than sincere. * * * * *

“You are out of chances. If you continue to neglect this child, I will get the state involved, and I will take custody myself. I’ve already spoken to the Freemans, and I have their full support.”

Morgan’s parents are not mentioned very often and don’t seem to be a big part of the Close boys’ lives. I imagine that whatever tenuous relationship Glenn had forged with them post-accident was pretty much destroyed by Adele forming this alliance with them and telling Glenn about it. * * * * *

Her patient demeanor is meant to remind him that she's here to clean up his mess again, like she always does, and his proper response is humble and apologetic gratitude.

And that is why Robin being patient can set Glenn off so bad, such as after the bike accident when they were arguing:

Glenn doesn’t really hear most of what Robin’s saying. It’s all just soothing, pointless stuff in that obnoxious tone that means Robin thinks he’s the smart, calm, mature one here and Glenn’s the immature asshole who lost his temper again. He’d never say it, but Glenn can tell what he’s thinking.

I hope it came across clearly in that part that Robin doesn’t actually see the situation that way and isn’t saying or thinking anything to that effect, but Glenn feels like he is because he’s had this somatic/emotional reaction triggered. Spatially he's arguing with Robin, but his body and a lot of his brain thinks he's arguing with his mom. Trauma can be like that. * * * * *

His mother keeps talking like he didn’t say a word. “We can all stay in each others’ lives, Glenny. I’m not trying to cut you out, I’m trying to help you. I know you think I’m a monster, but I’m just trying to do what’s best for my family.”

Sometimes the monster will tell you it's not a monster. * * * * *

From that night forward, Glenn will always know that he’s not a good person, because he almost takes his mother up on the offer.

I don’t think being tempted by this offer means Glenn’s a bad person, but we write Glenn as somebody who wishes he was a good person but is really afraid that he isn’t. He was at a very low point here and he needed help. Feeling drawn to the only help on offer, even if it was from a toxic source, is pretty understandable. * * * * *

"I'll get Nicky ready for school tomorrow and you can sleep in. We’ll finish talking about this when you feel better.”

Man, I hate that abuser thing when they start being sweet as soon as you muster the energy to fight back. You get a little bit of steam built up and then they dodge you like a matador so that it dissipates again. To be clear, Nicky isn't Nick's deadname or anything, it's just the somewhat baby-ish diminutive form that Adele uses for him, like how she calls Glenn "Glenny." * * * * *

“Family is important,” his mother says sadly. Just before she closes the door, she gives him a look that’s an exquisite mix of regret, tender affection, and a tiny spark of hope. Adele would have been a great actress, but Glenn can’t imagine who that particular performance was for.

Performance skills run in the family and Adele comes by her acting chops honestly, although she doesn’t know it. I picture one of those situations where a young woman from a good background gets pregnant by some rakehell actor and her family covers up the scandal by raising the baby as a new sibling. That would mean that as long as Adele’s “older sister” never spilled the beans, nobody in their family at this point knows that they’re related to Meryl. If Nick ever decides to do one of those ancestry DNA tests, things are going to get interesting. * * * * *

He certainly didn’t find it very compelling. Family? All the family he will ever need is sleeping soundly down the hallway, tiny arms wrapped tight around a stuffed plush Babar.

I wanted Nick to have a stuffed animal that was sort of his parallel to Mr. Lion. Robin is drinking with Mr. Lion in the beginning of Crowd when he’s upset about losing Connor to college, and Mr. Lion appears again when Glenn comes in to talk to Nick and Connor after Robin’s accident.

“I… I guess I don’t know.” Nick looks down, avoiding eye contact by staring into the darkness under Connor’s bed. Mr Lion is under there in a clear plastic box, along with some other stuffed animals. Even when Nick first met Connor, the stuffed animals were already banished underneath the bed instead of on top of it. But over the years, Connor’s never thrown them away.

Mr. Lion is one of the various ways we played with the theme that Connor is, as Nick puts it, “somewhere between a kid and an adult.” Connor is a very confident and clever guy, but you don't magically get a giant box of maturity and life experience on your 18th birthday. At various points, he asks both Nick (at the campus concert) and Glenn (after Robin’s accident) to try to understand that he's still growing and figuring stuff out. Nick has definitely been deprived of some chances to be a kid, but in some ways Connor has as well. He started hanging out with Glenn after Penny and Robin split up, and although he and Nick obviously hit it off, Connor was closer to Glenn for a while. In a different universe, that might not have turned out as well - I mean, tell me you wouldn't side-eye that arrangement in real life. I sure would. Robin just sort of flings his hands up at the role Connor plays for the Close boys, but I strongly suspect that shit would not have flown on Penny’s watch.

It’s funny - he thought Connor was so grown-up when they met, but the guy was only 16 when the Wrights moved in next door. He wasn’t much older by the time he was over at the Close place almost every day, helping Nick with homework or cleaning questionable leftovers out of the fridge. It didn’t strike Nick as weird at the time, It was just another thing about his life that wasn’t like anybody else’s. He never questioned what was in it for Connor. Back then, Nick didn’t even realize how lonely he himself was - he wouldn't have figured out why a kid whose parents had just gotten divorced might want to come over to the chaotic Close apartment to get away from the quiet in his own home.

Everybody was doing their best, and everything worked out for the best, but Connor over the course of the stories is sorting out the balance that works for him in terms of responsibility and playfulness. Fortunately, now that he has less responsibility for Nick, he can enjoy Nick more as a friend and brother. In Name, Robin and Glenn both sort of assume Connor will act as a babysitter to Nick while they go off on their first date; by Crowd, Connor is hanging out playing Smash with Nick and Grant as the gents get ready for their dinner date, but he's there socially, as a peer. Him being goofier and more immature also frees up Nick to do the same, since if Connor is cool and Connor is being playful, then "it's not a little kid thing, it's a bro thing" They both get to be kids now in a way that they weren't before, and I love that for them. Anyway, the point of Mr. Lion and why I wanted to give Nick a stuffed animal as well was to draw the parallel between the sons more directly and to anchor the stuffed animal component. So far there hadn't been any moment in which an actual kid was holding an actual stuffed animal.

#to be continued #wrightiverse

[princecupcakee]

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,112

Chapter: 1/8

Next Chapters: Chapter 2 (AO3), Chapter 3 (AO3), Chapter 4 (AO3)

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 1: Richie Tozier’s Plan, Eddie Kaspbrak’s First Vinyl & Beverly Marsh’s Plan

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster, @s-s-georgie, @mikeuris​, @gazebobullshit, @that-weird-girls-blog, @tozierking​, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @s-onora, @bellarosewrites, @lermanslogan, @ambitiousskychild, @ghostnebula, @vanillaredvelvet, 

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 1

Richie Tozier’s Plan

If Richie’s love life was written into a song, it would be called ‘Disaster’; named after his sad attempts at everything even just slightly involved with it. It would be a ballad, slow at first, some depressing line about how dreams don’t become reality. The chorus would hit loud, deafening if rock music wasn’t something you’d find yourself listening to, ‘He loved the sound of their romance’ is the loudest line in the chorus followed by: ‘But he messed up the steps to the dance’  then a sudden melancholy beat, ‘He failed his audition and he lost his chance.’ Toward the end of the song, as the sounds of the drums faded, and a slow guitar was the dominant sound, ‘It’s hopeless’ and the song would close.

Richie’s love life was an utter disaster if you tried to put it to words. He hadn’t had a single normal date in a very long time (he wonders if he ever did, really.) It wasn’t as simple as, ‘I spilled my drink and now there’s going to be a stain and that embarrassing’ those dates wouldn’t stand a chance on his. A few from his museum of failed dates:

Exhibit A -

James: Hey, I saw that you live in Los Angeles

Richie: Yeah! What about you?

James: I just got out of jail and my ex changed the locks. I really need a place to stay?

Exhibit B -

“I love this band so much,” Abigail gushed.

“Me, too! I’m really glad we were able to catch them here.”

And later that night on the news: ‘Woman arrested for jumping on stage to pull a strand of hair from a celebrity in a Los Angeles concert.’

Exhibit C - Connor. Connor Bowers was perfect with Richie, at least as Richie thought. The two had been dating for 2 years until Richie proposed, only to be rejected. Connor confessed that he was cheating, that he didn’t even actually like men. The night they got together, Richie had bought him a drink. Connor really only wanted to try it, but it clearly wasn’t for him. The next morning though, when they woke up in Connor’s bedroom, Richie decided that they were together. Richie wasn’t really thinking, he was just in desperate need for love. After Richie was kicked out of Connor’s apartment, he ended up in Stan’s house, unable to stay alone his own.

Richie never really moved out of Stan and Patty’s house. They didn’t really mind Richie living there, but they did mind that Richie was still bitter about the breakup. Stan and Richie have been friends since they were kids, he’s seen Richie in every way. Patty and Richie became close friends right when Stan introduced them. They would try to set Richie up with a few of their friends but he would just sulk in his room. He claims to be ‘done with love in the most chill way possible’ but the sad love songs, the bitterness on Valentines, and the sulking would beg to differ.“Love isn’t that bad you know, you could try”

“I don’t need to try. I’m fine,” Richie countered.

“There’s a lot of fish in the sea,” Patty said, kindly.

“Not anymore. All I get is plastic bags now,” Richie said bitterly.

Stan sighed, “you’re just gonna be alone forever?”

“Yes,” Richie replied immediately, standing up to get ready for work. Aside from a few comedy gigs, he works at a little record store a few minutes from where he lives. The store had the best speakers, phonographs, Walkmans, discs, headphones, everything. Richie loved it there, always being surrounded by music. The store was always pretty empty, aside from the occasional customer, it was just him. Like its always been.

He took his car from the driveway, heading for the city.

~~~

“Morning, Ben, Bev,” Richie nodded at them, smiling.

“Good morning Richie,” Beverly greeted with a wave, “How have you been?” Beverly was Ben’s wife, she has always been nice to Richie. ‘Nice’ didn’t compose of only greetings and coffee and being professional, they were close friends who went out to movies and heard each other’s lives play. Beverly designed clothing lines, while Ben was an architect. They don’t spend much time in the store, usually just leaving it with Richie.

“Pretty good, you?”

“Fine, but this one forgot to fix the thing on this table yesterday and was insanely worried all night,” Beverly pointed to Ben over her shoulder.

“It could break!” Ben argued, continuing to fix whatever was wrong with the table. Beverly walked over to Richie, who is sat down on the sofa. “So… I have this friend. He’s smart, good-looking, and really nice-“

“No, Bev, I’m not going to date. I’m single and unwilling to mingle.”

“More like, single and afraid to mingle,” she tiredly rolls her eyes, “Richie, there are good people out there, you just have to try.”

“I don’t see that. All the good people are with the other good people. Look at you and Ben! Both of you are like, super hot and nice. Guys like me got no chance- not saying that I want a chance, because I’m fine being alone.”

“You just have to keep looking.”

“Its a waste of energy to ‘keep looking.’ People who like me are not okay. Remember Abigail? Not to mention, people have shit taste in music.”

“You’re such a music snob,” She weakly laughs and shakes her head.

“Alright, its good. The screws were just-“ Ben says, getting up and walking to them.

“Ben, we love you but I don’t understand a single thing you say about architecture and furniture, and whatever else there is,” Bev jokes.

“I try. I’m out for today though, I have meeting, and I’m not sure if I’ll be back,” Ben says to Richie.

“Thats fine, I’ll just sit back here,” Richie smiles putting his hands behind his head and leaning further into the sofa.

“See you then.”

Richie picked up a vinyl and put it in the player. He had been playing around with cassettes, and a few of his own vinyl for a few hours now (‘few’ probably not being the case) and thinking and writing. After he’s finished a chunk of the script he was working on for his Friday performance at a local bar, he had gotten bored and just casually sat by the sofa. ‘Love’ the word danced around his head, taunting him. Or at least, to him, it was taunting. ’He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes’ sung the player.

The song carried him around as he sang, “Forgive me I’m trying to find, my calling, I’m calling at night. I don’t mean to be a bother but have you seen this girl?” The lyrics took him strongly, his heart tight and loose at the same time, feeling each beat. He drums his fingers on the sofa, following the beats, “She’s been running through my dreams. And its driving me crazy it seems. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

“you’re such a music snob,” rang in his ears, and he knew what he was going to do. He ran to his collection of vinyl seated by the left of the speakers, under the small table and began to search. He had his own few pieces of vinyl in the store, his own music that he listened to on the empty days of work. The Beatles, Green Day, Aerosmith, he took all the classics in his hands and grinned.

~~~

“Explain to me your plan again?” Stan asked, shocked.

“I’m going to get the best vinyl, write my number or email- whatever, and see who calls. Go on a date, see what happens. I’m gonna leave the vinyl all around the city’s subway all that, ” Richie explains excitedly.

“That might actually work!” Patty says, joining Richie’s excitement.

“This can get you more crazy dates than the ones you got before, Rich,” Stan says, unsure.

“Then, its material for my shows! Like Abigail and James!”

“See, Stan? Its great! Richie tries to go back to dating and he gets show material, win-win!” Patty hopes.

“Where will you get all the vinyl your leaving?”

“Thats the only downside, I’m going to use my own vinyl, maybe beg Ben to let me use the ones at the store?”

Stan sighs, softly smiling and nods, “this could work.”

~~~

‘Hot Fuss’ sat on his lap as he traced over the letters. Richie was in doubt now, his heart racing as he sat in the train. This was the first vinyl he would be leaving for this project of his. His stop was in a few minutes, so he pulled out the Sharpie from his pocket, bit the cap off, and wrote: ‘If you’ve enjoyed listening to this, would you enjoy a date too? Email me, Richie Tozier, @Remembering_Records.’ Richie set the vinyl down subtly and walked. “@Remembering_Records?” Stan asks.

“I was listening to Remembering Sunday, it was influenced,” Richie replies, hopping over the gap, he takes a deep breath and looks over at Stan, “Let’s hope this works,” he smiles, dashing away.

Eddie Kaspbrak’s First Vinyl

“I can’t believe we’re not using our cars,” Eddie mumbles, grumpily.

“Says the New Yorker,” Mike jokes.

“I drive there! Bill’s from there too! Subway stations are so unsanitary, so many people-“

“P-please! Enough with the com-complaining!” Bill says, frustrated, “M-Mike’s car broke down, and there’s no other way to get to B-Ben and Bev’s shop.”

“Its your day off! You landed in LA at midnight, and now we’re going to meet up with old friends,” Mike says happily, walking into the train.

“Exactly! Midnight. I shouldn’t be running around in this germ-infested-“

Mike looks at him tiredly.

“—I’m doing this because Ben and Bev are great and they’re our place to stay, Florida,” Eddie rolls his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t fit in LA. At all. He’s not used to the weather, the lifestyle, everything. He doesn’t like it here and just wants to go home. And Los Angeles seems to not want him here either. He lost one out of three of his suitcases the moment he got down, he had to wait an hour for Mike and Bill to pick him up from the airport, Mike’s car breaks down on the way to meet a friend, and now he’s taking the dirty subway.

He’s only really here for work. All three of them are. Bill and Eddie are from New York, and Mike is from Florida. They were transferred to the Los Angeles branch as a way to teach and help the new workers there. Bill’s ex-girlfriend, Beverly, lives in Los Angeles with her husband. They’re all good friends and Ben and Beverly offered to let them stay at their house (scratch that- mansion) for as long as they’re there. Of course, they took the offer instead of some crummy hotel, too far from their jobs.

Now here he is, on a train, heading to EighthNote to meet Ben and Beverly. But something isn’t right in this train, Eddie doesn’t know if this is just Los Angeles, but there, two seats away, is a light blue, paper casing, with the words ‘The Killers Hot Fuss’ sprawled across its center.

“Look, its Hot Fuss,” Mike points, “someone must’ve lost it.”

“We could put it in the l-lost and found,” Bill mumbles.

“Do not touch that. Who knows where its been?” Eddie says immediately, grabbing Bill's wrist and lightly pulling him back.

But Mike was already on his way to the seat, hand already about to grab the record. Until some guy in his late twenties took the record and sat on the seat. “Oh, is this yours?” He asks Mike.

“Oh, no, it isn’t mine,” Mike says walking back to Bill and Eddie.

~~~

On a street corner, a glass door, big windows, and a small wood sign that says EighthNote hanging above, Ben and Bev were talking inside when Bill, Mike, and Eddie walked in. “Ben! Bev!” Mike smiles, arms open wide.

“Its been so long!” Beverly sings, piling them into a group hug.

“It really has. I didn’t even know you had this shop,” Eddie says, admiring the speakers.

“At this point, it isn’t even ours, one our friends who work here basically one the place at this point,” Ben explains.

“You guys have a whole staff for this?”

“Nah, its just one of our friends. We pretty much just lay around here, the few customers here and there,” Beverly smiles, “he’s got comedy gigs though, he should honestly be a star now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Richie. We met him through Patty—one of my friends who model for me— her husband, Stan.”

“I’m probably pulling at strings here but are you talking about Stan Uris?” Mike asks, surprised.

“Yeah! How do you know him?”

“Best ex I ever had.”

Beverly laughs cheekily, “do tell.”

“Nothing! I just know from college, we dated a while, then he swooned for a girl, Patty Blum.”

“Thats her alright. Gorgeous.”

Eddie had moved on from the speakers by then, knowing they’d be reminiscing college in the next few minutes. Eddie only knows Ben and Beverly through Bill. Bill and Beverly had dated in college, but broke up and just stuck to being friends. Nothing is really awkward between them, all still close. Ben and Eddie both get along with architecture. He really just wanted something to do, he didn’t know what anything in this store was. “Its the thing from the train,” Eddie points, not exactly talking to anyone.

“Oh yeah,” Mike says walking over to Eddie. Mike’s reply startling him.

“Train?” Ben asks.

“We found a vinyl in the train on our way here,” Bill explains.

The conversation didn’t go into the details anymore, as Beverly took the record and put it in… Eddie didn’t know what that was. Was he supposed to? He saw Walkmans from his classmates when he was in middle school, but he never paid too much attention to it. He simply didn’t have the time or energy to care. Its just music. The song started oddly, in Eddie’s opinion. ‘Save some face, you know you’ve only got one’

“What the fuck is this?” Eddie wondered as the song continued.

“You’ve never heard ‘Smile Like You Mean It’?” Bill asks making Eddie slightly uncomfortable.

“I- No?”

Beverly cheekily grinning, “Well, since you’re in LA with us, you’re gonna finally see what good music is.”

~~~

The day took longer than Eddie had hoped, but now, he was in a car (thank God) heading the Marsh’s house. Grateful that Bill and Mike were just as exhausted and quiet as he was, he finally caught up with his thoughts. He was finally able to think again, about how the shop looked, how much he disliked the album Beverly basically threw at his ears, how cute the boy who walked into the shop earlier- no. No. Not what should be running threw his head right now. “Do you guys know the guy who walked into EighthNote earlier?”

“The tall, Hawaiian shirt guy with the glasses?” Mike asked, not looking at Eddie as he turned the wheel.

“Yeah.”

“I th-think that was the guy who works there. Who would randomly bring food into a store and y-yell ‘I brought Chinese, fuckers!’ If they didn’t work there?” Bill answers.

“Right,” Eddie says, his mind wandering away from the topic. He found himself opening his phone and searching ‘Hot Fuss’ into Spotify’s search bar. As much as he’d hate to admit it, it wasn’t that bad. And the guy at the store was cute.

Beverly Marsh’s Plan

“I brought Chinese, fuckers!” Richie shouted as he walked into the store. He instantly dropped his hands when he saw a man right in front of him.

After a quite lengthy moment of staring, “Excuse me,” he said, moving to the right of Richie, out the door, two men following after.

“Who were they?” Richie asked, setting the food on the table in front of him.

“Old friends of ours. They’re gonna be staying at our place,” Beverly explains.

“Okay,” Richie drags the word, “anyway, I have an amazing plan that was already put into action before any of you two hets try to stop me—”

“Uh-huh,” Ben cautiously nods.

“— so. Here’s how it works. I’m gonna set out a bunch of vinyl and shit on subways, with an email written on the back, and see how calls. I write if they wanna go on a date on the back, and if you’re worried if that'll be a bunch of people like Abigail and shit, I’m not saying you’re wrong. But if it is, it’s show material. It’s gonna be great.”

“This is amazing! You should’ve told us earlier, I totally would’ve come with you!” Beverly laughs.

“Wait. Did you start today?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“Which?” Ben smirks at Beverly, as she returns the look.

“Hot Fuss,” Richie smiles. Ben and Beverly snicker. Richie rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know I played Mr. Brightside to a girl before, but I didn’t know the song was about cheating!”

Beverly’s laughter doubles, “That’s not it but okay.”

“Whatever. But, anyway, who was the short guy earlier?”

“We told you, old friends. Why?” Ben says.

“Dunno. He was kinda cute I guess.”

“See? I told you you’d like him. That was the guy I was telling you about,” Beverly smiles knowingly.

“You tried to set up Eddie and Richie?” Ben wonders. Beverly sneaks a wink at Ben, “There’s a concert next weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Think you could get us three more tickets?”

“Sure?”

~~~

Beverly walked into to her and Ben’s room, grinning. “Are you gonna explain why you’re so happy?” Ben asks.

“We’re gonna get Richie and Eddie together.”

Ben gives an unsure look at her, “Richie’s going back to dating with this vinyls-on-trains thing he’s doing. Are you sure you want to set him up? You know how unhappy he is about love and stuff, its surprising enough that he’s willing to try again.”

Beverly takes a moment to think. She knows Ben is right, but she also knows that this will be good for both Eddie and Richie. Well, the second one, she isn’t so sure of. “I guess,” Beverly says, slightly disheartened, “but, we could ask them and, y’know, try?” She says hopefully.

“As much as I worry about this, I also think that it could be good. We’ll take them both to the concert and see where they go from there. What do you think?”

“Perfect,” Beverly smiles.

#reddie #reddie fic #it #it chap one #it chap two #remembering Sunday + The book ninja au

[detectiveconnor]

@jericholeader​ here it is, enjoy 

He really had believed, for years, that Amanda was doing what was best for the kingdom. It had been a belief he held, because she could point to the wealth that seemed to grow and grow, in the parts of the kingdom Connor was permitted to roam; because the people he interacted with were almost all noble of some kind, and though their chatter was boring and they didn’t much care for his humour once he had outgrown the stage where childhood could excuse poor manners, they seemed happy enough. The first month the rebellion was brewing, it was just a small handful of people, misguided about what the kingdom could provide. Misguided about what Amanda - and Connor - stood for. 

And one day he had locked eyes with a child, a handful of years younger than he, living out in the village. She was petite, but quick, and had managed to work herself around to the other side of a carriage that faced a wall, away from the crowded streets of the village to have just a little cover. Her hands were currently picking through the supplies this carriage held, food items for a dinner they were hosting. She peered up at Connor, caught out red-handed (he’d just rounded the corner; it had sheerly been instinct, to check the other side). She was waiting to be reprimanded. She had not had a plan, Connor thought. She was just hungry. “Your highness,” someone called to him, from the street. Connor’s eyes did not leave her. A man - someone with her, maybe; he must have seen Connor round this corner and come himself, immediately, to join them - rounded the other side of the carriage, to put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and be sure she stood behind him. Silent, but bolstering. You’ll have to go through me, first. The carriages had been unattended. The girl had been hungry. They stood, hiding here behind a carriage just feet from the guards, staring down the kingdom’s prince because Connor had happened to round the corner at the wrong moment. They were either hungry or stupid enough to stand their ground. Stealing palace supplies - whether food or weapon - was punishable by death, but it wouldn’t have been, here. This was petty. A year in the dungeons, at most. The dungeons had never seemed … he had never seen someone walk away from them the same, if they were there much longer than a week. 

The man (blue-green; bright eyes) tilted his head, and Connor thought this was more for the girl’s sake than his. They seemed to have a conversation in utter silence, the man’s hand pressing into her shoulder, and soon the girl took off running, through the maze of back-streets too narrow for a carriage or anything, really, besides the people who knew their way around this place like the back of their hand. 

“Your highness,” closer, now, “is something wrong?” 

“No,” immediate, and more defensive and knee-jerk than he would have liked it to sound, “I’m …” he hadn’t actually quite decided yet - 

“What are you looking at?” And his eyes drew away, at last, “I was wondering about the paperwork from the third district. Did we receive the Lady’s signature? I can’t recall seeing it.” 

This was, apparently, alarming news, alarming enough that whatever curiosity his company had had evaporated entirely: “The Lady? No, I - I’m sure I saw...” papers shifting, and they set off toward the palace together, leaving the thief where he was. Connor didn’t look back. 

The missing goods did not go unnoticed, but Amanda put it down to a communication error somewhere in the kitchen. Connor said nothing of it. It was only several months later, long into the brewing of a revolution, that he came to learn he had let the wanted thief and would-be revolutionary Markus Manfred essentially walk free. 

“He’s asked for a meeting.” “A meeting?” This was news, to him. Connor stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, facing the Queen’s chair - she didn’t bother glancing up for him, focused on the papers she was signing, occasionally drawing long scratches of ink through the lines there. Requests, from her subjects. Everyone wanted something. The room was echoing, and empty, and overlarge. 

“You heard me, Connor. Markus Manfred has written to request a meeting with the Prince.” Longer silence. She drew a line through something else, the movement of the quill sharp and exact. It threatened to cut through the parchment. “What are your thoughts?” This - being asked - was a test he could pass or fail, Connor had come to learn. It made his mouth dry for a moment, but he swallowed against that and considered. What were his thoughts? He thought back to the beginning of the year - February - where they had crossed paths before Markus had been Markus. When he had, Connor assumed, simply seen a girl dart around the side of a carriage, and seen Connor unwittingly follow her there, and he had stepped forward to take the blame for it. Did he think Connor was sympathetic, because of what had transpired? 

Was Connor sympathetic? There was information about the kingdom that Amanda wasn’t giving him. He had crossed beyond the first district, a couple of months ago - it was November now, he could not imagine what Winter was going to do to that place. He’d gone out to see the parts of the kingdom he had been forbidden to see. The noblemen and women who lived in the city, and the townspeople who roamed the village, were happy enough, most of the time. But out there? 

“He might … want to negotiate a solution to the problems he thinks the kingdom is facing.” 

“We’re not facing any problems, Connor.” Sharp enough to bite. “Yes, Amanda.” Always ‘Amanda’. Never ‘mother’. 

She watched him, for a moment. Reproachful. Discerning. Connor stayed exactly still, waiting, until she continued, “The rhetoric these revolutionaries are spouting is dangerous. If we lend him the legitimacy of an audience, who knows who else will want to play at being monarch?” A rhetorical question. 

Connor waited. Amanda set her quill down, and leaned back in her chair, eyes … invasive, in the way they tried to discern information from him. The regal white robe she was wearing complemented the cool suspicion in her gaze. “He asked explicitly for you,” she said. “Do you have some history with this insurgent?” 

A breath.

Two. 

“None that I know of. But maybe hosting him will tell us more about his plans, going forward. We should have the conversation.” A beat. “He might even have information about the kingdom we don’t know. It’s difficult to know everything that goes on here when we’re largely isolated to the palace.” 

The wrong thing to say. She breathed in that way that lifted her shoulders, like she was barely tolerating him. Connor held her eye, anyway, and that seemed to displease her even further, but whatever passed between them (electric; painful) was not enough, yet, to make her stand. She had had him whipped, once. Several years ago, on his fourteenth birthday, for speaking in this way - worse, but in this way. They had both learnt that it would not stop him toeing the line. Amanda had even … eventually called it a strength, she supposed, and compliments like that were far and few between. 

“Very well,” she said. “He will attend a meeting with the both of us,” she was not permitting an unsupervised exchange, “this Friday night. I want this mostly off the records, so you’ll be taking notes. I’d request an itinerary in advance, but I doubt he can write.” 

“He … wrote a letter, to request a meeting.” 

Amanda looked at him. Connor looked back, eyebrows lifted, just a fraction, expression otherwise neutral. Amanda did not smile. She was not the sort to. 

“Friday,” she said. “I expect to see you there.” “Yes, Amanda.” “You’re dismissed.”  He left quickly, maybe a little too quickly. Friday.  ... Whatever a revolutionary wanted with him, Connor doubted they were after the same things. 

#child abuse tw #v; royal #don't feel obliged to match length i'm just here! #ic #jericholeader #long post

[munchyn]

Pragma or  Philia

Summary: I can’t remember and I’m too lazy to re-read it. I think Y/n has trouble opening up to people and then something happens between her and Nico

Word count: nearly 2k

A/N: Sorry in advance of I don't get the personalities of the characters right. It's been a while since I read the books. The characters do not belong to me and neither does the story. They belong to Rick Riordan and you belong to you. I'm sorry if it's kinda weird. It's okay if you cringe (I cringed as I wrote it). Also, Pragma is longstanding love in Ancient Greek and philia is deep friendship in Ancient Greek.

Warning: none that I remember.

I looked over at my brother, Percy, as he trotted towards me. I started speed walking away. I knew he wanted to introduce me to his friends. But my anti-social ass always told him that I already had enough friends. Which was half true. Half true because I already did have enough friends. Half lie because I didn't have any friends,

I started to jog when I felt that my half-brother was gaining up on me. Soon, I was sprinting across camp to get away from Percy. Other campers watched in amusement as the two children of Poseidon chased each other. Well, for them the one child of Poseidon. As they surely didn't know who I was. There were only a few people who I had actually talked to. Those people were Percy, Chiron, Annabeth, Connor & Travis Stoll, Nico di Angelo and Jen, the satyr that had brought me to Camp Half-Blood over six years ago.

I had been in camp longer than Percy had. For most of my life here, I had slept in the Hermes cabin and lived there with the Stolls. No, they weren't my friends. Like I said before, I have no friends. They are more like allies or partners in crime. But anyway, I wasn't claimed until one year after Percy had arrived.

On one hand, I was glad I didn't have to sleep in a cabin crowded with thieves every night. On the other hand, I felt left out. Why hadn't my father noticed me until after two of his sons arrived at the camp? One of them being a cyclops. Was I not enough to be noticed? I mean, for more than half of my life I spent it on praying to Olympus for one of the gods to claim me. And then, after a lunatic with a sword comes along is when I finally get noticed. That lunatic had no idea what he was doing half of the time by the way. But he saved the world twice so I guess that makes up for it.

I held no grudge against Percy or Tyson though. What was the point? They didn't have the fault and besides, what was done was done.

"Y/n!" Percy panted as he grabbed my arm, stopping me and my thoughts. "Stop! I want to introduce you to my friends."

"That's exactly what I've been avoiding Percy," I say as I squirm out of his grip. "I also have enough friends as it is."

"You don't have any friends," he says bluntly. 'Wow,' I think to myself. 'So nice.'

"That's the point."

"Whatever," he says and grabs my hand. "You are going to meet my friends." I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"You can be so annoying sometimes," I say, but Percy ignored me and continued to drag me to the Poseidon cabin. He slammed open the door and seven faces turned to look at us. Between them, I recognized Annabeth, Nico and a girl that Annabeth seemed to hang out with a lot. Although I did not know her name. Percy sat me down on one of the bunks. He later sat down next to Annabeth on the bunk opposite mine. The others were already sitting down. I was sat down. I was next to Nico, who had a look that read he was sorry for me. I gave him the same look.

Nico was the closest thing I have to a friend. We used to have talks together about how the camp could improve and how the gods always sent demigods into their fights. In fact, it was our very first conversation together.

I leaned back against the wall as Percy introduced me to the group. I put on my annoyed face, but on the inside, I felt touched that Percy really cared for me enough to take his time to gather up people for me to meet them. As soon as he found out that I was his sister he tried to break down the walls that I had created around me. But so far the only person that had managed to do that was the person that was sitting next to me.

"How come I've never seen you around then?" asked the Latino boy next to the girl whose name I learned was Piper. I shrugged.

"I tend to keep to myself," I say. "I don't think you should be asking that question. I don't see you that much around camp either."

The boy blushed a deep crimson and I saw a bit of his hair go on fire before it went out. I huffed out a laugh. 'Okay,' I think. 'He has pyrokinesis.'

There was silence in the room and the tension was so thick you could've cut it with a knife. Percy must have noticed this and coughed to catch everyone's attention. "How 'bout we play some game?" he says. "Any suggestions Piper?"

Piper sighed. "Do I really need to say it? I think you already know what I'm going to say."

Percy had a confused look on his face as he said, "Seven minutes in heaven?"

Piper, who had already stood up to the center of the room whacked him on the back of the head. "No you dumb ass," she says. "Don't make me any more of an Aphrodite child than I have to."

I smirked. 'I like her.'

"I think you might just be the only person that I actually like in this room, Piper," I laugh out. I heard Nico making a choking noise next to me. I wondered but left it for later. Percy, meanwhile, looked at me with a hurt look. "Oh don't be a baby Percy. You'll always be my brother, I have to love you."

Annabeth smiled and Piper sat down on the floor. "Nice to know Y/n," she says. "It's also a refreshing sight to see Percy the one being sassed so thank you."

"It's no problem," I say. "If you want any more refreshing sights you should hang out with us at the Poseidon table during lunch."

"Could we just move on with what we were previously doing?" asks Percy, looking between me and Piper with a desperate look.

"Well, I was going to say we should play truth or dare."

I jumped off of the bed. "Truth or Dare!?!! This is my jam!" Nico looked at me weirdly. Probably because of my change in attitude around him. I was usually more like him, now I was showing my more Percy-like self. I moved to sit in front of Piper.

"Since you're so excited, Y/n, why don't you go first?" says Leo. "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," I say.

[Time Skip. I'm sorry.]

We had played a few rounds of Truth or Dare. At the moment, Percy was dressed up as Ariel (which he didn't mind), Leo had red war paint and Jason was wearing a pink princess dress. Nico's face, unfortunately, had been decorated with makeup and glitter by Hazel.

"Y/n," says Piper and I looked at her. "Truth or Dare?"

"You already know my answer Piper," I say and she smirks.

"I dare you to kiss the person to your left," she says and my heart drops. I look over to my left and see that Leo's face was flushing a deep red. Judging from the heat I felt in my cheeks mine was probably in the same condition. He turns to look at me and we both lean in. Our lips met in a kiss. It wasn't just a peck, but it wasn't a full-on makeout session. We both pulled apart and I looked down at the ground in embarrassment.

I didn't dare to look at anyone. Especially Nico. 'Darn it,' I curse to myself. 'Why couldn't Piper have said "to your right"?' Yep that's right. I had a crush on the Ghost King. On the only person that managed to break down my walls. 

I was still looking down when Nico finally decided to stand and leave. I looked up just in time to see the door slam shut. 

"Nico!" I called out for my only friend. I stood up and headed outside to look for Nico. I looked around to see if I could find him. After about ten seconds I saw him going to the forest, and even from here, anger radiated off of him. "Nico, wait!"

I chase after him but he seemed to walk faster when he heard my voice. 'Now I know how  Percy falt about a half hour ago.' I started to run as to not lose him from sight. I nearly crashed into him when he stopped all of a sudden.

"Why don't you just go and play Truth or Dare with Leo," he said as he gestured to the cluster of cabins behind me. 'Wait, did he say Leo?'

"Nico, I wasn't playing Truth or Dare with just Leo," I say and he mumbles something under his breath. "What?"

"I said that it looked like it," Nico rolled his eyes and continued walking into the forest. But he didn't go very far after I grabbed his arm. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to read his poker face. Then I realized what was going on.

"Are you jealous of Leo?" I ask and Nico looks down. I burst out laughing and Nico goes even more red in the face. I wipe away a tear from my eye. "You are jealous of a guy I just met literally less than an hour ago. Oh, my gods." I catch my breath and Nico looks at me with a grumpy pout. I pinch his cheek. "You are actually really cute when you're jealous." 

I give him a peck on the lips and he blushes fifty different shades of red. My eyes widen as I just realized what I had done. "I'm so sorry Nico," I say as a fidget with the hem of my shirt. "You probably don't even like me."

Before I could say anything else he cupped my face in his hands and placed a soft kiss. I slowly kissed back and hugged him once he pulled away. "I really like you Y/n," he says into my hair.

"I really like you too, Nico," I say and peck his nose. There was a moment of silence. "I'm guessing this is the part where you ask me out?"

"Well, I was thinking more about asking you to be my girlfriend-"

"Yes," I said interrupting him. "I'll be your girlfriend." He grinned his grip around my waist got stronger. "Should we go and share the news?"

Nico paused to pretend he was thinking, "Nah," he says after a while. "They've been trying to get us together for the past year. Let them suffer."

#nico di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #hoo x reader

[bisexualdaemon]

Cellophane (Plus Size!Reader)

a/n: so this is a plus size!reader blurb...I’ve never written one of these before...probably because it hits super close to home. but it’s inspired by “Cellophane” by FKA twigs. it’s also inspired by a conversation I had awhile ago with @bluerroses while I was reading Neighbors by @zankivich about what people would say if they saw Shawn with someone who did not meet societal expectations of what a man like him should deem “attractive.” anyways here it is. my heart in a blurb.

warnings: societal expectations of women’s bodies, fluff

They're waiting

They're watching

They're watching us

They're hating

They're waiting

And hoping

I'm not enough

He sits in the third hotel room in five days and stares at his phone screen. His name sits in the search bar, like it usually does, an innumerable number of 240-character messages to scroll through with his tag attached. Most of them feature pictures of him walking with you down the street a couple of days ago after brunch. It was the first time you’d been photographed together. He cringes.

 #ShawnMendes out to brunch with his body positive friend

#ShawnMendes : body positive ally? 

All of them assume he’s just your friend. They laud him for deigning to be friends with you. What would they say if they knew he’d made you come three times last night? That he deigned to kiss you till he turned breathless? That your soft curves, your full breasts and thighs make him feel whole? He scoffs at being some kind of hero when the truth was that you saved him. 

“Hey, baby,” you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, “whatcha lookin’ at?” The mattress dips when you crawl behind him and peer over his shoulder. 

“Oh, those are cuter than I thought they’d be,” you look at the pictures, your soft, rounded stomach filling out the maxi skirt you’d been wearing, your thigh peeking out of the high slit cut into the side of it, with just a little strip of skin showing beneath your favorite Virgin Records crop top. It was a fucking fierce outfit. 

Shawn makes an irritated noise, somewhere between a grunt and a scoff. 

“Excuse you! I think they’re adorable and look at that outfit! Fucker, look at that thigh!” You nudge him with the thigh in question and he reaches back and squeezes it. 

“It’s not that…” he exhales in a burst and you tense, ready for him to up and run. You both knew you were being photographed that day. Photographers in LA are hardly inconspicuous with their giant fucking zoom lenses and Midwestern dad attire, complete with cargo shorts and hiking boots. But you’d taken it in stride. Shawn had wanted to hide, not to make you a secret, but to keep you from the scrutiny. You’d assured him there was nothing to hide from. Scrutiny was your constant bedfellow in a world that didn’t accept bodies that looked like yours, especially with someone that looked like Shawn. 

“It’s just….I don’t understand why people assume we’re just friends,” he scrolls down a few tweets, to a picture where you’re clearly holding his hand, “even this one says, ‘Mendes Cute and Affectionate with Friend After Brunch’.” You lean your head on his shoulder and sigh, taking his hand and massaging his knuckles, tense from anger and frustration. 

“Shawn, we knew this wouldn’t be easy,” you press a kiss to his cheek and he leans into it, “we’re not supposed to be together. The idea that you could be attracted to me is unthinkable to them.” He tips his head against yours and leaves it there for a few tender moments. His breath steadies against your face, his pulse relaxing, slowing to his normal athlete’s rhythm. He pulls back and kisses your forehead on the spot he’d just been touching. 

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know,” he traces lines connecting the sun-kissed freckles on your shoulder with his fingers. 

“I do know,” you take his face between your hands and look him in the eye to make sure you’re serious, “I don’t need them to tell me that. I don’t need them to tell us what we are. Neither should you, because fuck them. They don’t know shit.” 

He takes another couple of deep breaths, letting your words sink in. Like lightning, a spark bursts in his eyes. He takes his phone and taps his camera app open. He smiles and points it at you. Your eyes widen and your hands rush to cover your face when the shutter noise clicks. 

“Shawn! What are you doing?!” After the first couple of pictures you loosen, laughing and falling back against the plush hotel sheets. Your towel rides up, turning these impromptu photos into a full boudoir shoot. He pauses and bends down, placing two gentle kisses to each of your thighs. Everywhere he touches feels like a live wire. Feather light on bits of uncovered skin, trailing upward across your soft stomach, kissing up the valley between your breasts. 

He buries his face in your neck, drawing a laugh from you and he follows, descending into giggles that send deep vibrations from his chest, ricocheting off your skin. It makes you warm, heat pooling just beneath your skin and coursing between your legs. Your eyes close and a moan escapes. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

His lips find your temple and he stays there, lifting up his phone to snap one last photo. When you hear the shutter, your eyes open wide. 

“Shawn, what are you doing?” Your voice is low, just above a whisper. You have an idea of what he’s about to do and you need to hear it from him before you’ll believe it. He’s sitting up, playing with the lighting in the photo, making it black and white—all that artsy shit he’s picked up from Josiah and Connor. In it your eyes are closed and so are his and his lips are pressed perfectly against your temple. Your hair is all half-dried and sticking up at strange angles and you’re sporting a bit of a double chin but none of that matters because it’s so fucking clear that he loves you that how you look is the last thing anyone could ever notice about the photo. When he���s finished, he looks back at you like a kid on Christmas morning, all flushed with exhilaration. 

“I’m gonna post it.” The words spill out of him, like he’s been waiting to do this. Like he’s been waiting to publicly declare it for weeks. Like he wants to burst out of the shadows and flood his life with all your light. Tears well in your eyes. 

“Are you sure?” you whisper, not realizing how much you want him to say yes. 

“I’ve been sure for awhile now.” He’s smiling with all his teeth, setting up the post and typing a quick caption. He tags you and your breath catches, “are you sure?” 

“Baby, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

He pushes the post button and throws his phone on the couch across the room, leaving it to blow up with notifications and texts. He’s too busy kissing you to care about the reaction. Too busy worshiping your body and making sure you know that what he wrote in the caption of the photo of you together is his only truth: 

I fucking love my girlfriend ❤️

permanent taglist: @justanotherfangurl272  @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @rodneywaber @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @the-claire-bitch-project @mendesromano @fromthicctosticc @esoltis280  @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @hi-my-name-is-sid @gentleshawn

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes angst #shawn peter raul mendes #plus size reader #my writing

[connordavidscamera]

Party Invites and Coffee Companions | Connor Brashier

A/n: this is for the absolutely wonderful @queenmendes​ who just needed some frat boy!connor. Also, Connor was supposed to be an asshole and then as I wrote it, he just wasn’t? Don’t know what happened there lol, I’m sorry. And it’s based off this photo:

Summary: Connor invites you to a party, but things get a little heated when one of his frat brothers starts hitting on you. (College!au)

Warnings: unforgivably beautiful frat boy!Connor is a warning in itself. Also jealous/protective!connor also I guess this could be considered angst? But like… not really? But it’s not really fluff either? Honestly it’s just a mess like the rest of my life, what else is new?

Word count: 3.3k

***

“Y/n, hey, wait up!” A familiar voice says from behind me and I stop just outside the door of the lecture hall. “Hi,” he says softly when he’s finally beside me.

“Hi,” I say back softly, starting to walk again.

“Where you headed?”

“Coffee shop. Need an afternoon pick me up.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, hands in his pockets.

“Not at all.” I swallow the nervousness that’s threatening to build – just like it does every time I’m with Connor.

It’s no secret that’s notoriously gorgeous. Eyes this beautiful shade of blue-green that can change from the lighting or depending on what color he’s wearing. Today they’re bluer because of the royal blue button up he has over a plain white shirt. His hair looks messed up – but in an attractive way, like he’s been running his fingers through it. Which he has because I could see him, out of the corner of my eye, doing it every few minutes in class.

“So,” I say to fill the silence because with me in the conversation, any silence is awkward and I am determined to not do that now. “What did you think of lecture today?” Wow, stupid question, y/n, way to fucking go.

He chuckles and like, did I just feel my legs buckle? “You want the truth or a lie?”

I hum, “A lie.”

“I was rivetted,” he answers casually, opening the door to the university center, gesturing for me to go in before him.

“Oh, thanks.” I look down, walking in front of him.

“What about you? What’d you think of it?”

“Honestly? I found it hard to focus.” Which is true. Because how can anyone focus when a literal Greek God sits in the seat diagonal from you? You can’t, okay? Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s impossible. Half of my notes consist of his name written in various different fonts across the page.

He nods, “His voice is so monotonous, right?” he says before reaching the front of the line and turning his attention to the menu just above the barista, who is absolutely blushing because of the man in front of him. Not that I blame her.

“What can I – I get for you, sir?”

“Large coffee, black. And whatever she’s getting,” Connor nudges his head toward me, pulling out his wallet.

I shake my head, “No, Connor, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just order, please?” he pleads and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his features quite this soft. So of course I cave in and order.

I try to protest again when he hands the girl his card, still paying no mind to her blushing, flustered state. but he just shrugs me off with a smirk, taking his card back.

“Do you need a receipt?” she asks, her voice a little less timid than it was a second ago.

“No,” He waves a dismissive hand to her and walks over to the side to wait for our drinks. I thank her again before following him. “Do you have another class today?” he questions, hands back in his pockets.

“Um, no. I was actually planning to go to the library to try and finish up my English essay. It’s much easier to get things done in there than at my dorm.”

“Roommate problems?” he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“No, it’s not that. She and I are actually really close. We’ve been friends for years. That’s the problem. She’s very much a distraction.”

He nods understandingly. “I get it. I can never work at the house. The guys fuck around too much for me to get anything done.”

“You don’t live on campus?”

“Large black coffee. Regular vanilla latte,” the barista calls out and we both move forward to reach for our drinks. But Connor reaches for both and our fingers brush against each other when we touch my cold cup. It’s a struggle not to flinch against his touch.

“Um, I live just off campus. In the Omega Sigma frat house.”

“Oh, you’re in a frat,” I say, actually a little shocked. He didn’t give off the frat vibe. But then again, what do I know? We’ve only had a handful of conversations. In fact, this is the longest we’ve ever been together without being in class.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he chuckles, handing me a straw.

“No, I didn’t – sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m kidding,” he cuts me off and I’m oddly grateful for it. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d join one either. But it’s not too bad.” He clears his throat. “Hey, I know you said you were going to the library, but do you think we could sit for a minute?”

Well how can I say no when he just bought me coffee? “Sure.”

“The corner table good?”

I nod, “Yeah, perfect.”

He leads the way, sitting in the actual corner seat. I sit in front of him and stir my coffee a little with my straw. This should be weird, sitting with him like this when we’ve never been together like this before. But it’s oddly comfortable. Although, a part of me is still wondering why he even wants me to sit with him. I mean, it’s not like I’m a dazzling conversationalist.

We just sit in silence for a minute and I’m internally screaming as he takes the lid of his drink and just takes a sip of his plain, black, hot coffee. And he doesn’t even blink an eye. Who does that?!

“Do you have pla –”

“Brashier!” Someone calls from behind me and I try not to jump at the loud voice.

He forms a close-lipped smile and nods in the voice’s direction, “Sup, Craigen.”

“I need your notes for psych. I missed the first thirty minutes.”

“It’s a fifty minute class,” he points out.

“Yeah, that’s why I need your notes.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But then his attention is on me. “Shit, where are my manners. Hi, I’m Brian,” he extends his hand to me with a wide smile. “I’m Connor’s roommate and best friend.”

“Best friend is a little bit of a stretch,” Connor says.

I take Brian’s hand to shake and give a polite smile, “Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I take my hand back.

“Brash, did you invite her to the party?”

“Party?” I look back to Connor with a raised eyebrow.

He glares at Brian. “I was about to.”

Brian cowers back, holding up his hands. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you have a class you need to get to?” Connor asks, running his finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

Brian checks his watch. “Fuck, yeah I do. But seriously, Brash. Those notes?”

“They’re in the room. I’ll give them to you when I get back to the house.”

“You’re a fucking angel. I gotta run. It was nice meeting you, y/n. I hope to see you around soon.” He says before rushing off, not even giving me a chance to respond.

“He’s friendly.”

“He’s annoying,” Connor says back.

“So… a party?”

He sucks in a breath, “Yeah. The house is throwing this party on Friday. It’ll be really casual. Just a punch people looking to get drunk and destress since midterms are coming up. And it probably doesn’t sound that appealing when I say it like that, but it really will be fun. And I don’t really know if parties are your thing but I’d really enjoy it if you came.”

I nod. He’s right though, parties aren’t really my thing. I mean, I’ve been to a few, but I was never the type to go and get drunk. But maybe it would be a good idea – to destress, like he said. And I mean, if he’s gonna be there, I wouldn’t totally mind spending a little more time with him.

“So, would you like to come? It-s – it’s totally up to you, though. You don’t have to. You probably already have plans, so if you can’t, don’t worry about it. I just thought I’d ask.”

“I’d love to come,” I say finally, taking a sip of my drink.

“Really?” he clears his throat, “I mean, yeah. Cool. Um, if you want to give me your number, I can send you the address.”

“Okay.” I don’t tell him that he could just write it down for me, even though he absolutely could. He hands me his phone with a sheepish – if I’m reading him correctly – smile. I type in my name and number and hand it back to him. “I should, I should get to the library,” I say after another couple minutes of silence. “Wanna find a comfortable place to sit. I might be there for a while.”

He nods, “Yeah, no of course. I’m keeping you from your studies,” he stands. “Um, I could – I could walk you there, if you’d like? I parked close anyway.

He still wants to spend time with me? What is his deal? But then again, who am I to deny the company of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on? “Well… if you’re going the same way, I don’t see why not,” I say nonchalantly. Even though on the inside my stomach is doing backflips.

---

I’m brushing out my hair when my phone dings with a message.

Hey it’s Connor! :)

I smile to myself and finish brushing out my hair before texting him back, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to him.

Hi! I type back simply.

It doesn’t takes long to respond again.

I have the address for you.

Friday night comes faster than expected – and after another impromptu coffee “date” with Connor after lecture. And even though Connor said it was casual, and I know I could have stayed in my outfit from earlier. But I change at least three times.

“Okay, what do you think?” I ask my roommate.

“It’s cute. But I’ve also said that about the last two outfits were cute. So who’s the boy? Why are you getting so dressed up?”

“It’s not dressed up, is it? Should I change the cardigan?”

“No, I mean why have you changed so many times? Who is he?”

I sigh, “Okay. You know, Connor Brashier? He’s in my Tuesday/Thursday lecture. I’ve told you about him once or twice.”

“He’s friends with Shawn, right?”

I shrug, “I think so.”

She smiles, “He’s a cutie. Good choice. You planning on doing anything with him?”

“I’m just going to a party.”

“Yeah, to see him.”

“No. He just invited me. He said it would be a good way to destress.”

“But you like him.”

“Okay, I’m leaving now. I’ll text you when I get there.”

“Have fun, be safe. Call me if you need a ride back.”

---

I’ve barely been in the house for two minutes when I hear my name being called. “Y/n! You came!”

“Oh, Brian. Hey!”

“I’m so glad you could make it. Connor’s gonna be so excited to see you. Can I get you a drink?”

“Um, sure, yeah.”

“Follow me,” he holds his hand out for me and I take it, walking closely behind him. He’s in the middle of pouring my drink when Connor finds his way over to us.

“Hey, you came,” he says to me, placing his hand on the small of my back and I think my heart stopped beating for a moment.

“Yeah, I did,” I smile and turn to look at him. He’s wearing a black hoodie and olive green pants with a backwards baseball cap. I didn’t think it was possible for him to look any more beautiful. But god he does. His eyes are greener today. I don’t know if it’s because of the pants or because of the awful lighting in the room, but they’re green and he looks so good. His hair flips out a little under his cap and it’s so fluffy. It looks like it would be so nice to run my fingers through. And I wonder what it feels like to do it. His face, it’s more open today. Softer, maybe. His freckles stick out a little bit more, especially one right by his nose and one on his cheek.

“You look pretty,” he compliments when I take my drink from Brian.

“Thank you,” I say, to both of them.

“I’ll leave you two alone, but I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Brian says, pushing just past Connor.

“It’s kind of loud in here, you want to head outside?”

I nod, “Sure!”

We make our way outside, it’s a little less loud, but there’s still a lot of people out here.

“Pretty good turnout, huh?”

“It’s actually kinda small compared to our usual parties.”

I stare, wide eyed at him. “You mean they get bigger?”

He takes a sip from his cup with a certain nod, “Oh yeah. Last month, we got the cops called because it got so big.”

I laugh, “I heard about that. My roommate was at that one, actually.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, she came for Shawn.”

He chuckles, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Shawn bring a lot of girls back?”

“I wouldn’t say he brings a lot back. But they definitely attach themselves to him. He plays music when the bar down the street does open mic night. Girls love musicians.”

“And what about you?”

“What? Do I love musicians?” he jokes and I can’t help but laugh.

“No,” I say back. “I mean, what do you do? What makes girls attach themselves to you?” Besides your gorgeous face and fluffy hair.

“Girls aren’t exactly beating down my door,” he says softly.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe. And you’re avoiding the question.”

“Okay,” he takes in a breath. “I do photography. Film, mostly.”

“What kind of film?”

“Anything. I started with skimboarding, and just progressed from there. Sometimes I film the parties – the guys just fucking around in the house. Compile it all together just for fun.”

“Can I see some of what you’ve done?” I ask, genuinely interested in this boy and his hobbies.

“Um… yeah.” He pats his pockets and curses. “Fuck, I left my phone in my room. Give me second?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, just… wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Now what is a pretty girl like you doing standing out here alone?” A voice says from my left where the door to the kitchen is. I startle a little before forcing a tight smile.

“Um, I’m waiting for someone. He’ll be right back.”

“Well, I’ll keep you company until he comes back. Does that sound okay?”

I want to say no because I don’t really like the way he’s looking me up and down. But I go against my better judgement and allow him to stay. “I guess that’s okay.”

“I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Y/n.”

“Pretty name,” he takes a swig of his beer, looking me up and down again before taking a step closer, to which I take a subtle step away.

“Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Don’t really come to a lot of parties.”

“Well I assumed. I definitely would have remembered you if you had.”

I want to roll my eyes.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I hold my cup up for him to see. “Already got one, but thanks.” I look around the backyard at all the people talking and laughing and I hope Connor comes back soon. Because Tim’s just taken another step closer to me and I’m really not –

“Little close there, aren’t you, Tim?” Connor’s voice sounds from behind the tall guy and I feel myself let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Just making small talk, Brashier. No big deal.”

“Right,” Connor says, squeezing between us, his hand gently grazing my thigh as he pushes me behind him. My breath hitches but I don’t thing either of them notice. And if they do, they ignore it. “I think you should go find someone else to talk to.”

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make. That should be up to y/n. What, do you make her decisions for her? Because she’s her own person and she can make her own decisions.”

“I know she can. But I’m this close,” he pinches his fingers together, “to punching you for getting too close to my girl. So let’s make a good choice, Tim, because it’s not looking too good for you if you keep on the path you’re on.”

I try not to let it get to me that he just called me his girl. He’s doing it for Tim’s benefit, I tell myself. He’s just trying to get him off my back.

Tim laughs, like actually laughs. “God, Connor. It’s a party, man. You need to loosen up. Maybe y/n can help you with that. She looks like a screamer. Could be good for your ego,” he says earning a hard shove at his chest from Connor.

“Con, no. Stop,” I reach for his arm, and I know this is serious and I shouldn’t be thinking it, but… how his muscles feel really nice. Even when they’re covered by his thick hoodie.

“Yeah, Con, stop,” Tim mocks. “Listen to your little girlfriend.”

“Tim, fuck off. I swear to god, I will punch you.”

“You’re gonna risk getting kicked out of the frat for a stupid girl?”

“Watch it,” he warns, taking a step closer to Tim who has somehow stepped farther from this scene that’s developed. I yank on his arm, my chest pressed firmly against his back.

“Connor, calm down. It’s okay.”

He turns his head toward me, the bill of his cap barely missing my face. His jaw is clenched tight, but his eyes show nothing but compassion. “Do you want to get out of here?”

I nod, “Please.”

“Let’s go,” his hand is back around my waist as he leads me the opposite way of Tim. He rounds the corner and we leave out the side gate. Only once we’re far enough for the bass of the music to not shake the ground we’re walking on does he take his first full breath. I do too, relieved that he’s no longer heaving. “I’m sorry,” he says finally and stops walking, his hands in his jacket pocket. “For what happened back there. I just – Tim’s not a great guy. And I know, I know it’s not my place to tell you or anyone else who you can and can’t talk to, but just know that I was doing it to prot-”

I cut him off with a soft kiss on the cheek, and we’re both blushing when I pull away. “Thank you.”

He clears his throat and looks at the ground, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “Oh, um… you’re welcome.”

I check the time on my phone, “Do you want to go somewhere?” I ask.

“Sure, where?”

“I don’t know. We could go get coffee at the diner downtown. They don’t close until one.”

He smiles despite the tense situation we were just in, and I smile back. “Is coffee gonna be our thing?”

I shrug, “That depends… do you want us to have a thing?”

He swallows and nods, fixing his cap on his head and pushing his hair behind his ears. And oh my goodness this man has the cutest ears. “I want us to have a lot of things… I mean, only if you want to, of course. I just – I don’t know, maybe we could hang out a little more. Preferably away from the frat house.” Away from Tim, he wants to say. “I want to get to know you. As more than just a classmate, or coffee companion.”

I can’t help but laugh as I take his hand, leading him in the way of my car. “I don’t know, coffee companion sounds like a pretty good gig.”

“What about a coffee date?” he asks with a smirk.

“Well… I think that sounds even better.”

***

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#connor brashier #connor brashier imagines #connor brashier x y/n #connor brashier x reader #connor brashier imagine #connor brashier fanfiction #connor brashier blurb

[so-small]

Connor Murphy x Reader: All I Want

words: 1896

warnings: none

based on Alex Boniello's Connor

  You were driving to school in Jared's car blasting Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas. He was your next door neighbor, so, more often than not, the two of you rode to school and home together, sometimes with Evan. Today was one of those days where it was just the two of you “All I want for Christmas is,”  you sang as you turned to Jared as he finished off the song. 

  “YouuuUUUooouuuuuuuu,”  Jared sang, overly done and out of tune. “Autographs will be available on ebay for $50 per letter, thank you New York!” Your laughs faded into a comfortable silence.

  You switched the radio off, “Jared, I need advice.”  

  “Finally, you recognize me as the wise one I am. What is it my young padawan?”

  “It’s serious, Kleinman,” Even though you knew he was making a joke, you’d kicked around asking him for help multiple times, always deciding against it.

  His face turned from a shit-eating grin to a straight face, “Alright, what’s up?”

  Rubbing your temples, you managed to spit it out, “What do you do when you have a really big crush on somebody, but you’re too afraid to say anything?”  

  “Isn’t that more of a question for Evan?”

  “No,” you shot Jared a pleading look, “because I actually want to do something about it.” Now the two of you were walking into the school.

  “Well shit, my little (Y/N)’s all grown up.” Before you could do anything he continued, “I’d normally say go for dirty jokes, but I don’t think you’re the type to do that... So maybe if you told me who you liked, I could better help you.”

  Blood rushed to your face at the very thought of telling Jared that you liked Connor Murphy. Maybe he was right, maybe this was more of a question for Evan, but then again, he’d been in love with Zoe for over a year and he still hadn’t made a move. “You know? Nevermind, I really don’t know why I said that. It’s stupid anyways.”

   “Aw, come on (Y/N), you can tell me anything you know. I won’t make fun of you.” He most definitely would make fun of you. 

  You weren’t ready for this. “So, how’s your history project on Amsterdam coming along? Evan said he was working on it all last night.” 

   Jared’s eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah he added like ten slides about a tree that apparently is famous in Amsterdam. It’s so stupid, we’re probably going to fail.” 

   He began ranted about some tree that Evan had written about for their presentation. You took that opportunity to glance around the halls to find Connor. When you finally found him, you noticed he was motioning for you to come over. Jared was still distracted with his rant. You slide away, making your way over to Connor.

  “What’s up?” You chirped as Connor shoved a book into your hands. “What’s this?”  

  Connor turned back to his locker and shoved some books in, “You left it our house after your sleepover with Zoe a few days ago.” You peered down to see your diary. That’s where it had gone. “She’s sick, so she wouldn’t have been able to get it back to you and she just had me bring it to you.”  You turned pale as you realized that Zoe might have read your diary. If even possible, you lost even more color when you processed that Connor might have done the same. He glimpsed over at you, “I didn’t read it if that’s what you’re worried about. Can’t say the same about Zoe.” 

 “Oh, okay....” trailing off you felt dread sinking in, “Has she been acting weird?” Zoe finding out about your crush on Connor would be worse than Jared finding out. 

  “When isn’t she acting weird?” Connor sighed as he closed his locker and looked over to your small paled form, “Are you okay? You don’t look so well.” 

  “I’m okay, just a little-” You got cut off by Jared bolting over to you. 

  “There you are, (Y/N)!” Jared looked like he had ran a marathon, you wondered how long he walked and talked to himself before he realized you weren’t there, “I see what you did there! You had me complain to get me off your case! Well, I’m not going to. Who is that crush you mentioned earlier?” Jared’s eyes widened as he noticed you clutching your diary. He yanked it out of your hands and started flipping through the pages. Abruptly, he stopped, seemingly finding what he was looking for. Jared stared at the page for a minute before glancing up at you as he started to laugh. “You’re kidding me? You really like that guy? This is too good. I’ll catch you later.” Still laughing he shoved the diary into Connor’s hands and walked down the hall cackling. 

  Connor blinked, trying to process the strange scene that just went down around him. “Any idea what that was about?” You nodded, really hurt that Jared had just read your diary and laughed. “You wanna talk about it?” You nodded again.”Okay, follow me,” Connor grabbed your wrist and dragged you out the nearest fire exit. “Okay what is this about?” 

  “I made the mistake about asking Jared for help with this crush I have. Then I regretted it and refused to tell him who it was.” You took a breath and continued, “Do you want to hear it from me, or read it?” You asked Connor.

   He shrugged and opened up your diary, where Jared had left the bookmark. He skimmed until he found a name. Not any just any name, his name. “So, uh,”  Connor scratched the back of his neck, “That’s why you were so worried about about Zoe reading that.”  

  You shook your head, “She’d freak out.” For a minute you almost felt calm, even though Connor Murphy literally just read you confessing to your diary that you like him. And he hadn’t even acknowledged that you liked him. “So...” You bit your lip and looked over to Connor, who looked like he just realized what he had read. 

  “Wait a second,” He rubbed between his eyes, “you wrote my name.....does that mean?”  

   Nodding, you looked to your feet. “Look, if it’s too weird, just forget it. It’s not like you would want somebody like me, I’m just me.” The confidence you had began slipping, and you turned to walk back into the school, feeling like a complete fool. 

   A sudden pair of arms wrapped around you, stopping you dead in your tracks. “Don’t go.” Connor muttered in your hair. “I like you too. All I’ve wanted for awhile was to be with you, (Y/N).” 

  You felt your heart stop, and then speed up faster than could possibly be healthy. You shimmied around so you could face Connor. “Really?” 

  His eyes sparkled as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Really. Do you maybe, um, want to skip the rest of the day and hang out?” 

  “I’d like that,” you said squeezing him tightly before you began to walk to the parking lot. “Where do you want to go?” 

  “Well, we could go to my house, but we’d have to sneak in and be quiet. ‘Cause Zoe is home. Or is your house available?” 

  “My dad is working from home today.” 

  “My house it is, then.” The two of you got into his car and drove off as he began, “So, you’re one of Zoe’s best friends, I’m sure she says all sorts of things about me. How did you manage to still like me, even with those things?” 

  “Connor, I’m Zoe’s best friend, I see what it’s like at your house. I see all the conflict, you’re handling it as best as you can. I know I’d be a million times worse if I had to deal with what you have to.” 

  “(Y/N), thank you.”  

  Confused you answered, “You’re welcome. Wait what am I welcome for?” 

  Connor smiled, not that fake smile he would give you when you hung out with Zoe, but a genuine smile. “For being able to look past all the rumors you hear at school and all the things Zoe says.” You smiled back to him, placing your hand on his leg while he drove. The rest of the ride was filled by a pleasant silence. Upon arriving at the Murphy residence, Connor led the two of you to climb into his window.  As soon as you got in- with some help from Connor, he took his shoes off and collapsed onto his bed. 

   You kicked your shoes off and lingered, unsure whether to sit on his bed or at his desk. Finally, you decided to sit on the edge of his bed. “This really is real, isn’t it?” Connor finally broke the silence and rolled onto his side so he could see you instead of the ceiling. “Do you want to watch something?”  

   “Yeah, let’s do that.”  You still felt a little uneasy sitting on Connor’s bed, even though you knew he liked you back, you were still on your crush’s bed. He turned on a horror movie, and curled up on his bed, motioning for you to lay next to him. You did, and he pulled a blanket onto the two of you and wrapped one arm around your shoulders.  The movie was scarier than you had first thought it would be, so with every jump scare you would pull closer into Connor, hiding your face in his chest. Unbeknownst to you, that was exactly why he’d chosen this movie. 

   Halfway through, you refused to even look at the screen, and just clung onto Connor, arms wrapped tightly around him, and your face hidden in his chest. You felt him move, and then heard the movie’s sound come to a halt. You looked up to see his face, and he had a small smirk on his face. “Too scary, huh?” 

  You turned red, “Sh- shut up.” He placed another kiss on your head.

  “Wanna just cuddle instead?” He gained a nod from you has you both got comfortable in each other’s arms. Every now and then, Connor would kiss your head, while you would either kiss his chest or jaw. This went on for awhile until finally, you both drifted off into sleep.

  When Cynthia got home from her yoga class, she went up to Connor’s room to check on him. The car was in the driveway, so she’d known that he skipped classes again. Much to her surprise, she saw Connor and (Y/N) cuddled up together in a peaceful sleep. She almost gasped when she saw the content smile that was spread across Connor’s face. 

  Zoe rubbed her eyes as as she left her room to go ask if her mom could make her some tea that she always made when her kids were sick. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw why her mom was standing at the door, taking pictures on her phone while tears streamed down her face. “He’s happy, Zoe.” Cynthia said, her voice cracking. “I haven’t seen him smile like that in his sleep since he was three.” 

   Zoe paused, “Do you think he read the diary or do you think she told him?” 

  “I don’t know, but we better tell your father to pick up a congratulations cake on the way home.” 

#connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #dear evan hansen #deh #evan hansen #jared kleinman #zoe murphy

[jackjots]

#2 Roadtrip

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This spans Episode 2 and half of Episode 3)

Day #2 

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

The closest library was an hour away. I normally didn’t go that far unless I was going for a big shopping trip, to get more than I could acquire at the town market. But I felt driven, possibly by that unexplained guilt that sank farther in my belly as I brushed my teeth and looked past my eyes in the mirror and into the past, into Ryan Reynolds’ eyes. As bespectacled as they were, they had a twinkle, a conviction, and now that twinkle had been put out.

I drove my Volvo around the curved roads, sliding only slightly into the other lane to simultaneously make sure no one was coming around the bend and to get a better view of the hills that seemed to overlap into the distance. This was the one thing that made me grateful for growing up in the city; I was still awestruck by the scenery. Locals could look at this sprawling gold tinted wonderland and shrug, but I felt humbled and enamored by the beauty of it all. 

The road straightened and the hills became smaller and golden, until they flattened into dirt and rows of crops. I turned off the main road and passed the small school, the grocery store, and finally found the library. I’d been there before for my novel research, so I already had a library card. My foray into historical fiction had bad timing with my new lack of access to the internet, as before when I’d just written wild fantasy stories and fanfiction I could just make stuff up or pool from my endless knowledge of fandoms. But actual research for historical fiction in the guts of the sepia toned library that wreaked of mothballs, that was an experience I only found charming the first time. But I was glad of it now as I began my research. I started with books on Connor Creek, taking out my notebook and jotting down little bits of history. There had been two families that founded Connor Creek, one of them obviously the Connors, and also the MacMahons. I found it interesting I hadn’t met anyone with either of those last names. I made a note to visit the cemetery, out of pure curiosity. That’s all this was, I told myself, pure curiosity.

There were only a few books that said anything about Connor Creek, largely they dealt with either the Gold Rush in general and only had a few chapters on Connor Creek. But one book, obviously worn and old, was called “The Tales of Connor Creek”. This one I decided to check out. It was in my casual eye flick through the table of contents I noticed the chapter “The Werewolves of Connor Creek”. I laughed quietly to myself at that, and it had almost made me put the book back, but it was the best they had. And in my research in Norse Culture, their legends had important truths within them, so maybe it was the same here. 

It sat on my desk as I tried to work on my book. The day had passed me by in the library, and now the sun was growing heavy in the sky outside and inside I turned on the desk lamp and stared at the screen. This wasn’t writers block, this was writers distraction. All I wanted to do was read about Connor Creek.

After thirty minutes and only a small paragraph of words squeezed out of my mind like water from a sponge, I grabbed the book and moved to the tiny couch I usually ate my little meals I threw together and watched DVDs on my tiny DVD player and TV in one I’d gotten at a thrift store and was still on the floor. Furniture wasn’t a big priority for me. I had a desk, I had a couch, I had a mattress on a floor in my room; I was good.

The book was a bit dry at first, and I skipped through the introduction that described the town as it was when the book was written. I knew it wouldn’t be that different anyway, and flipped to the first chapter. The first chapter talked about the silver mines. It was said that mining had decreased because of one family, the Connors, wanting to keep the town small, while the other family, the MacMahons, wanted more silver and wound up leaving town. Which made some sense, Connor Creek. But the whole idea seemed odd to me. And the town hadn’t been too upset to let their biggest source of income stay largely hidden in the mine? I got up and grabbed my notebook and swiping past many scribbles about vikings, I found a blank page and wrote down the year the silver mine had shut down. More research to do. Maybe I’d go back to the library after the election the next day, or try to cram the book in a few days and then go back. 

After a few more pages, where it started to lay out the history of the two families I had already read about, I found myself drifting a little. I got up to make some coffee and realized I’d run out the day before and had forgotten. I hadn’t had any in the morning in my excitement and now my head was starting to hurt as if I’d summoned the caffeine headache merely by the realization I hadn’t had any yet. Sighing, I looked at the clock and realized the market would be closed. I could drive into town really fast, get a coffee from the dead canary, and work on it there. Being around a couple of people (literally like two usually at the Dead Canary) would keep me alert along with the coffee. I’d stay til closing and then come back and try to cram as much of the book into my head as possible. The urgency of doing this was spearheaded by the election the next day. I could even ask around about what was going on with the town council now that Ryan Reynolds was dead. Perfect. I threw on my coat and grabbed my keys, threw the book in the passenger side and drove down my driveway.

I found a place to park and walked into the bar. I was quick to tell Desmond I needed a coffee, instead of my usual beer, and he simply nodded as I went to my corner and put the book and my little notebook down on the table. 

I went back to the bar and leaned on it. His interest piqued, as it was odd behavior for me, Desmond turned away from the coffee machine as it lurched into motion and grabbed a rag to polish a glass with. He did so with his eyebrows ever so slightly raised as he said, “Something on your mind Shelby?”

“Yes, actually.” I took a breath, this was not my speciality. “I was wondering if you knew much about the silver mines, and why Miner Mole wants to extract them.”

He motioned with his busy hands over to my table. “Is that what you’re writing about?”

“I wanted to make an informed decision about my vote.” And nothing to do with a murder mystery, I thought to myself. “You don’t have anyone to choose between now.” 

“Well, true, but-” I was interrupted by the Sheriff coming in and I excused myself back to my table. 

I had the book open when Desmond brought my coffee. “Why didn’t you ask the Sheriff about- hey what do you have there?”

Startled, I looked down and closed the cover keeping my finger inside. “Just learning some local history.” 

“How far you get in that book?”

“Not far yet. Just learning about the families that founded the town.”

He nodded. “Enjoy your coffee.” He said and walked away. 

I got lost in the history of silver mining and somewhere in there faintly heard the bell a few times, a phone ring in the back, and some loud chatter in the background I was able to shut out, until I had to pee. I tried to go fast, but I got lost in my thoughts and probably spent a few minutes longer than usual. I got back to my table and finished my coffee standing over it. When I put the cup down, I noticed the book was gone. My notebook was still open with what little notes I’d made in it, but the book was gone. I poked my head over to the bar, but no one was there. I looked under the table, and around the other booths. I went over to the bar and looked behind it. I couldn’t see anyone.  I walked back to my booth, and there was my book. I cursed under my breath at myself and decided it was time to go back home. I went to pay and Desmond was there cleaning a glass, like he’d been there all along, telling me to have a nice night. 

It wasn’t until the next day I discovered that pages were missing.

#tin can bros #30daysofwayward #waywardguidefortheuntrainedeye #fic #fanfiction #deadcanary #werewolves #roadtrip

[perahn]

4, Jadesa and/or 9, Khem&Shay

the shuffle was not kind to slave!verse Jadesa

 Everybody Has a Dream, Billy Joel

Then all I have are these games that I've been playing To keep my hope from crumbling away

So let me lie and let me go on sleeping And I will lose myself in palaces of sand And all the fantasies that I have been keeping Will make the empty hours easier to stand

It was dark, and Jadesa was alone in her cell. The barakir did this, sometimes, when there were long passages of Mulhorandi. Her fluency in most languages Nishkir Khemuret Xul wrote in was valuable, and there were more and more of those each day. Passages in Giant and Dwarvish and Celestial (which Connor had translated, and she had to get him to teach her before the barakir sold one of them), even Deep Speech. Then there were two in Chondathan, thoughts about Harper in his own native tongue, which was… well, the barakir didn’t care to hear the textual evidence demonstrating how a Red Wizard could fall fathoms deep in love with a worthless, unmagical foreigner, but that didn’t make it go away. Anyway, the point was that Khem had clearly started using a spell to give her more languages to write in, because the borrowed words were only used in the most literal senses, without the idioms and fluency of a language properly acquired.

Actually, no, the point was that a slave who could translate a lot of languages was valuable, but, if you thought like a Red Wizard, a slave who could read everything her masters wrote was potentially dangerous. So when there was a long passage in Mulhorandi, the barakir locked Jadesa away from it. Alone, because the others were still kept at work despite awakening before dawn and the scant hours left before midnight. Which meant no Serannis to gently bore her into sleep with one of his monologues on the nest-building habits of Chultan jungle-fowl – and she’d put herself to sleep for years before she’d met him, and she’d put herself to sleep for all the rest of her life after this project was finished, always assuming she was valuable enough and the barakir wasn’t paranoid enough to simply kill them all once they were no longer immediately useful…

But no point in thinking about that. Slaves shouldn’t think ahead, slaves shouldn’t think, slaves shouldn’t sit in the dark and miss other slaves, slaves shouldn’t wish, slaves shouldn’t remember, slaves shouldn’t – dream -

- but the barakir was paranoid enough to enchant them, every day, against any rival who might learn what he was working on by reading the thoughts of his slaves, and that meant, for almost the first time in her life, that what slaves shouldn’t, Jadesa could, if she wanted.

Mostly she didn’t. Memories had too much power to hurt, and there was nothing she could do about her future, and both of them knew very well why the barakir locked Serannis in with her at night, even if they both pointedly chose not to know -

So, mostly, she thought about the project and what she’d been reading, the account of just how much it took to turn a Red Wizard into something closer to a human being but also the evidence that it was possible – thoughts that were almost safe. She’d tried to imagine what they all looked like – Khem was easy, of course, Jadesa knew what Red Wizards looked like, and they even had a diagram of the tattoo Harper, Shay and Katy had inked into her scalp. She’d recognise Khem, Jadesa thought, by that alone, but surely there would be something more, something of the – kindness – she’d learned carried visibly in her expression?

The others… well, Khem wasn’t big on physical descriptions, but there were clues. Harper was tall – and for a Red Wizard to note it, that meant really tall – and grey-eyed, with a tattooed arm. Shay was grey-skinned and scarred, her hair part-shaven, small for a half-orc. Katy was pale-skinned, with either dark hair or blonde, and a lot of make-up. Jadesa had established faces for each of them, but probably they didn’t look anything like that. Probably she could watch them from a window and never guess, except that they would make a very unusual group in Thay…If they were still alive. She really wasn’t sure: Khem hadn’t been too specific with her dates, and the question was complicated, since Jadesa didn’t think there was any way Khem would have surrendered her journals willingly to the Red Wizards for translation…

If they were alive, perhaps they had gone to Arrabar after all. It was a nice thought, Headmistress Khem in her school by the sea (and Jadesa tried not to remember the sea, glittering, salt and silver, the cry of gulls) with her allies-turned-friends about her. She’d put her red robes away, perhaps, and wear blue, because she wasn’t a Red Wizard any longer. Perhaps grow her hair – well, no, probably not. That might be a step too far, and besides, the mental image was just ridiculous.

Harper would be there, love spoken plain between them. (Cort, of course, would not. Nobody wanted Cort, and, for that matter, Jorran could get over his silly crush or take it somewhere else.) Sometimes that part was hard to imagine – restless, wounded Harper finally at peace, secure in the belief that he was loved – and that Khem, who was so desperately sincere and so bad at expressing it, could give that to him… but Jadesa chose to have faith.

It… helped, somehow.

Katy and Shay, together again, both of them teaching too. Katy would be enthusiastic, loud, passionate; Shay more reserved and patient. She could see them, almost, see the sunshine on the practice yard, the stave heavy in her hands as she sparred; magic wreathing through her fingers; scribbling notes frantically, trying to keep up as Khem lectured about some obscure point of history… The murmur of the sea in the background as she ate lunch, ate food that tasted until she was full, and had enough left over to toss Serannis an apple -

- and then Jadesa realised how far her mind had wandered into dangerous territory, and banished the thought. Stone. Cold, damp stone and darkness.

Reality was a dark stone cell, and slaves shouldn’t dream.

#writing #alternative ethics #jadesabre301 #jadesa #bettydice #don't worry #jadesa has this life in another universe