#her eye is sparking because she's an android that got Fucked Up

[hexingart]

like yea I've had DMPCs before but Liadra was my first one in Pathfinder so she's got a special place in my heart.

All her wildshapes have little cheek feathers and scarring for matchies.

#evie art #oc art #pathfinder #druid #her eye is sparking because she's an android that got Fucked Up #her gestalt is interesting because I really super wanted to make druid/kineticist work #so I did elemental ascetic kineticist which means all my wildshape natural attacks get bonus damage from blast dice (almost) passively #looking up whether or not kinetic blasts function during wildshape is such an obscure thing that essentially I said fuckit #I'll just take Natural Spell to cover my bases #but the Kinetic Fist infusion states it works w natural attacks so.... #kineticist gestalting with anything gets muddied with rule interpretations and ability interactions #very fun but also very tedious #my favorite is kineticist/paladin #especially if you're using the spheres of power Divine Conduit Kineticist archetype #you know. for funsies #anyway ask me about pathfinder I'm super normal about it I promise

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

I mentioned the other day I wanted to write something with the lesbian version of the Crowlien au, so here's something with the wives before their lives were horribly changed because of aliens.

Warning: flashback that is safe, present day is... not so much, missing limb

On with the fic!

--

Crowley was breathing, but did she really need to?

She could feel pain, but that seemed so cruel, so very cruel. Why would anyone program an android to have pain receptors?

She stared at the ceiling, the lights were still red, but the alarms had turned off a while ago. Bentley was curled up next to her, sleeping, as if chaos had not happened over the past few hours. There was no noise other than the typical sounds of the ship, a few sounds of sparks, from a broken piece of wall or Crowley's leg, she wasn't sure.

Fuck, what a way to find out the truth about yourself. And just moments before your beautiful, amazing, angel of a wife sacrificed herself!

Crowley let out a ragged sob as she looked towards the airlock, sealed tight, with no hint of Aziraphale returning. She had no idea what happened beyond those doors, but it had to have been an hour, maybe longer. There was no sign of the alien, no sign of Aziraphale.

It was just Crowley now.

It was never meant to be just Crowley. This was supposed to be a simple mining mission...

--

"One more week." Crowley said with an exaggerated sigh, stepping into her shared flat with her wife. Bentley came towards her with chirpy meows and the redhead scooped up her baby, giving the cat kisses all over her face.

"One more week, indeed." Aziraphale said as she stepped out of the kitchen, flour on her hands, her cheek, all over her apron. Oh no, she was stress baking.

"Angel, you no we can't take any of that with us, whatever it is you're bakin'. We're gonna be stuck eating the slop that the company provides for us." Crowley kissed her as she walked over, then stepped into the kitchen.

"I know, I know. But..." She could see Aziraphale pout.

Crowley smirked and set Bentley down, he ran off to do whatever it was that curious kitties did. "You want me to sneak on contraband on our very important mission? Hm? Is that what you're tryin' to ask me, Dr. Fell?"

Aziraphale huffed, turning her nose up at her wife, but her smile gave her away. "It would violate the rules they have of what we can and cannot bring aboard!"

"Ah, but when have I ever been a rule follower, angel?"

"You fiend." Aziraphale laughed and pulled Crowley into a hug. "I made your favorites, you'll be happy to have them when you wake up! Oh! And speaking of..."

Crowley kissed her forehead. "Don't worry, I spoke with Tracy. She'll have the AI inject you with E while you're in cryo-sleep."

"Oh! You beautiful dear!" Aziraphale was grinning as she lifted Crowley up and spun her around. "You always take good care of me!"

"Of course I do!" Crowley laughed as her feet were set back on the floor. "I love doing things for you, it makes me so happy to be your hero!"

Aziraphale laughed and stepped back, dusting the flour off of Crowley's black jacket. "That it does, dear. But one day, I'll get to be your hero!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes! Maybe in this mission I'll get to be your knight in shining armor!"

"Ha! If Furfur hits on me again, you can play hero then."

Aziraphale snorted and laughed, pulling her in for a kiss. "Yes, yes, I suppose that could count. Now, come on, you deserve a treat. I've got the most scrumptious raspberry white chocolate scone for you to try!"

--

"You wanted to play hero, angel." Crowley whimpered, turning away from the door. Her eyes back on the ceiling, she tried to ignore the spasm she felt in her damaged leg, she could smell burning metal and wires. She didn't dare look at the fluid on her hand, she didn't want to know if it was red or white.

Another sob escaped her. "Well, you did it. You got to be my hero. But at what cost!?"

No one answered her, not that she expected one.

She was alone now, just her and a cat.

And no heroic angel in sight.

--

I made myself sad with this one.

A reminder, Aziraphale is a trans woman in this au, because yes. Also, I love trans woman Aziraphale, we need more of her in the fandom. (and just more t4t ineffables really).

Yes, Crowley found out she was an android in this au before her leg was damaged. I wanted her to have a more startling realization than what Aziraphale got in the main au, and the damaged leg also means she gets a weird saunter to her walk when she repairs herself. And yes, she had no idea she was one, just like Aziraphale hadn't known.

#good omens #crowlien au #ineffable wives #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #crowley #john's drabbles

[discotechque]

honey, i am just like you

pairing: brad bakshi/gn! reader word count: 1.5k rating: M requested: yes

this was everything to me because my first brad bakshi draft was a rivals to lovers plot

Sometimes, it starts to feel like Brad’s only hobby other than being the epitome of corporate greed is hoping you will buy into his bait. It starts off with surface-level insults, comments about your clothes, and the way you speak. Little things that would make anyone insecure if you did not find his attention to detail rather flattering.

From an untrained eye, these are the things that create animosity between two parties; an effervescent hatred that runs bone-deep and infects a room with all the worst parts of someone. Yet, you know better and these mindless quips do not spark vexation. They allow you to divulge in a mindless desire of basic human instincts.

Bite, tear, kiss, want. Things that only happen after he requests your presence for eight floors within the steel box. Something about it feels shameful, a secret that blooms a deep purple bruise against his collar. A satisfaction that sits still until you can devour him once again; something about it possesses you. So this is the life of an exhibitionist, he once murmured against your lips and it drew out a laugh in return.

There's a certainty within you that this is not love. Love is coming undone through someone's skin, looking through their eyes to see a pupil dilate for a fraction of a second, finding heaven through their mouth. Brad does not provide those things and you've learned from movies what love ought to be: anything other than this would be miserable.

Brad shakes his head towards the parting doors and you answer his call. You pause your stride, someone is watching. A shiver runs down your spine, a pensive gaze trained on your back even as you turn to meet the narrowed eyes of Poppy. She peers through Ian's glass cage, her face so near it starts to fog up the glass. The woman needs some friends or another hobby besides coding; either would do her social skills well.

You enter the elevator without greeting, impersonal yet exciting. Only acknowledging each other when you want something he has which is usually finding purchase against his neck. Everything about him is so rigid—until you find spots of softness that let him melt into your need: spots only you know just from eight floors.

“They’re catching on to us," you comment as he leans past you to press the button for the ground floor. Slender and spindly, you already want your hands all over him and it disgusts you. "Poppy’s doing that weird twitchy thing that she thinks makes her look smart when it really just makes me think she’s a prototype for the android uprising.”

None of your coworkers are truly perceptive, that's something a moron could attest to. They're obnoxious, disorganized, self-obsessed (you are not exempt from these traits)—if any of them had proclaimed they had previous knowledge on your affair then they better be good fucking liars. David Brittlesbee exposing any office secrets is mortifying in concept and execution.

He shrugs, “Relax, you’re making this more complicated than it has to be. She’s probably just figuring out ways to piss off Ian.” A floor has passed. No one has stepped on.

"There are easier ways to make out like the back of my soccer mom van or even your place." he glances at you, curls from untrimmed hair swinging loosely from their slicked position, and you resign. "An elevator is just gaudy. We keep this up and I might have to find other prospects."

You don’t have many suitors lining up at your door but pretending otherwise is considerably less pathetic. He slides closer to you, leaning against a sleek metallic wall. Fingers brushing against the small of your back, it’s a taunt to take action but Brad Bakshi is clearly above the notion of instigating anything intimate.

“What are you giving me that anyone else can’t?” A smile spreads against your lips, swiveling to face him and barely realizing how close he’s gotten. He guides your hands to his jaw, lightly pecking it and letting it sit near the corner of his mouth.

“You can deny it all you want, but I get the feeling you like me.” He goads like always a sly little smirk hanging off of his words.

(You can feel the mirth against the pad of your finger, tapping it gently with your thumb. Desire is a fickle thing, it comes from his skin to his attention to this shared shame. Tender madness: you will go insane before this man can learn to admire his want. Lonely and greedy, your heart is just like his.)

He’s right. You don’t love him, you like him. Wanting something you can have. There’s something strangely poetic about it that irritates you.

His collar feels right within your grip, wrinkled with vexation as something finally snaps when you can see yourself through his eyes. “God, you’re so fucking annoying,” You find his lips rather easily because somehow this secrecy works on levels it shouldn’t.

Hands travel down to his cardigan-clad waist, lifting it from its tucked position within his stupidly tight skinny jeans. He murmurs something against your lips but you swallow the words with fervent heedless kisses. It's messy by your design because affection doesn't stir up from mess. It doesn't forge from steel and certainly won't bloom from the void this man manages to saturate. Still, he swiftly moves away and pulls his head back to reveal his slender neck.

Somehow, even in this heat to sate any hunger; he still attends to what you like. (There wasn't a time before it actually happened that you could imagine this. Having your lips become swollen by a man who held his wealth like a knife against your throat, needing to bury your hands in the hair of someone you wanted to strangle, wanting to take everything he gives with only a slight hash of remorse. He has ruined you.)

A chime rings and you pull away from him. There's barely any time to tidy yourselves as the doors slide open to reveal this poorly concealed liaison, “GOTCHA—Oh, God!”

Poppy Li stands only a few feet from the inciting incident of what will result in multiple therapy sessions. She doesn't know where to look first, doesn't even know if she should still be looking but the door stays open by just the will of her paralyzed hand. Your hands are still perched against his exposed abdomen, both of your bodies still flushed together as if it was an innocent embrace, his neck is totally fucking annihilated.

She doesn't get paid enough for this. You don't get paid enough for this. The earth opening and swallowing you whole only seems like a shallow prayer for what this situation truly calls for. Maybe this is what she gets for trying to be nosy. Yeah, this is her fault. Absolution of any blame is certainly a specialty here.

She opens her mouth, snapping her jaw shut; the action repeats a few times as the two of you separate. Before gathering up her resolve and asks, “You guys fuck in the elevator? Why couldn’t you just be rubbing your hands together and plot about cryptocurrency?”

Brad's face transforms back into that same clever leer, ignoring all the disheveled parts of himself, “Would rubbing each other be better than having sex?”

“We don’t have sex in the office, that’s a massive HR violation.” Well, you don’t have sex at all but the thought of provoking Poppy into spiraling is all too tempting to let go.

“I thought you hated him!”

“Rivaling about things like the free market and advertising is a great way to build reluctant sexual tension,” you explain with a shrug but it's clear these elaborations are only causing her to curl up further into her frazzled state of mind. “and he’s only mildly detestable.”

She splutters, arms erratically flapping around as the doors threaten to close on her figure multiple times. In all your life, you never thought you witness an aneurysm occur in real-time. Huh, life is full of wonderful mysterious miracles; you think with a smile.

"Pop, what are you shouting about? Oh, hey, you two." It doesn't really seem that Ian cares about your presence much more than he cares about whatever is causing his partner to break down. Neither is interesting, to be fair, but you think it's starting to lower employee morale.

"They were fucking in the elevator!"

You protest, "We weren't—" It falls on deaf ears and you don't think anyone would listen to them either way.

"I thought everyone did at least that once."

This is getting way too personal. Did he? In here? Where you are? The mere thought of it threatens to send hives all across your skin. You knew something else far more shameful ensued here. This is a massive HR violation, someone needs to call Carol.

"And them? They're not even trying to hide it. I thought we all knew and just didn't say anything."

"We had options, Brad."

He shrugs once again, clearly unbothered by the circumstances and you don't think it'd be possible to provoke any other reaction from his spindly hands. "I still think this is the least embarrassing outcome."

"What's going on here?"

On second thought, David Brittlesbee exposing any office secrets is far more horrifying in execution.

#idk if any of the characters would actually care about brad being in a relationship except for s2 jo #but i like the idea of poppy thinking this is all an evil scheme just to find to losers hooking up in an elevator #also working in a mitski reference AAAAYYYY #this also feeld completely different to the original request so im sorry but i still hope you like ih #tv: mythic quest #brad bakshi x reader #ch: brad bakshi #gender neutral reader #brad bakshi imagine #brad bakshi #julianscribbles #mythic quest #mythic quest imagine #mythic quest imagines

[writeyouin]

Hank Anderson X Reader - One Night Stand - Commission

Hey, @petitelepus​, thank you very much for commissioning me. I hope this is how you imagined it, and if there is anything you want changing, just message me and I will fix it til you find it perfect.

Commission request: Okay, how about Hank Anderson from Detroit Become Human with a notably younger woman. Like, he wakes up after a night filled with alcohol and finds Reader in his bed at morning. He thinks he took an android home with him because who young woman in their right sense of mind would go back to old man's like his place? Hilarity ensues when he tries to get rid of his one night mistake, but Reader shows genuine affection and attraction towards the older man. Maybe put Connor there somewhere too?

Warnings - None.

Rating - T

Word Count - 1306

Hank groaned and rolled over onto his side, reaching to pull the covers over his head, as if that might mask the headache he had from the previous night’s drinking. Yet, instead of finding the quilt, his calloused hand brushed over noticeably softer skin. Groggily, he opened his eyes, finding himself opposite your sleeping form, half-spooning him.

He stared long and hard at you, trying to recall the events of the previous night, or even the last time he had come home with a one-night stand. Occasionally in his youth, he would strike lucky, but that hadn’t happened in years. He was a grumpy, old bastard, who had little charm, especially when drunk, so how had it come to pass that you were now in his bed? You were pretty enough to be an android; shit, had he paid for your services? It would make sense, after all, nobody young and good-looking would want to spend the night with an old fart like him. Then again, androids didn’t sleep, and Hank couldn’t see an LED, but it was possible that you were mimicking sleep as some androids did, and that you had removed your LED if that was the case.

Gingerly, Hank lifted your arm, removing it from his chest, so he could sneak out of bed. He looked down, finding a state of undress that only irked him further. Upon pulling on boxers and a shirt, he made his way to the kitchen, trying to keep every movement silent as he made a pot of coffee and tried to come up with a game-plan. He could just wake you and tell you to leave, no matter how harsh it was, but that could lead to you actually trying to talk to him, and he didn’t want that; he didn’t want anything to do with you. Maybe it would be better for him to leave the house and hope that you would take the hint to go back to wherever it was you came from, but then what if you stayed anyway? Hank tried to think of any other options that might help him, but if he couldn’t leave and didn’t want to stay, what else was there? He sat down at the breakfast table to think.

“Morning,” Connor beamed, coming back home from his morning walk with Sumo.

“Fuck,” Hank groaned, having hoped Connor wouldn’t have been home till much later so he could get rid of you without Connor finding out; the android knew a lot more about sarcasm now, and would undoubtedly mock Hank until his dying days if he found out about you.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Connor grinned, removing Sumo’s leash and letting the Saint Bernard roam free.

“Connor, do me a favour and get the hell out. I have something to take care of.”

“I would have thought you’d be happy, considering you got lucky last night.”

“Shit, you fuckin’ knew?”

“About (Y/N), yes. I met her last night when you were sleeping. She went to the bathroom and saw me in the hallway. We then had a nice chat before she went back to bed with you. She’s a real catch.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Hank retorted half-heartedly, hating the shit-eating grin Connor now wore.

Connor was about to make a rebuttal, but the sound of the bedroom door creaking open drew both men’s attention.

“Morning,” You said chipperly, coming out in one of Hank’s old shirts and the jeans that you had arrived in. “Connor, Hank.”

Hank grumbled, feeling bad that he didn’t remember the previous night, when you clearly seemed happy about whatever had gone on; he was still trying to deduce whether he had paid for your time or not, but now that you were awake, it seemed rude to ask. Despite that, Hank was about to ask if you needed a ride home as a way to get rid of you, when you kissed his cheek and sat down next to him at the kitchen table. He froze, memories of his ex-wife surfacing; she used to do that in the early days before things turned sour.

“Would you like some breakfast, (Y/N)?” Connor asked, trying to keep you there as long as possible for his own enjoyment.

“NO!” Hank growled, forgetting himself momentarily. “Uh, I mean- Connor is a lousy cook. Burns everything he touches.”

“Oh,” You noted, “That’s too bad. Then I suppose it’s up to me to make breakfast. You like pancakes?”

“N-”

“He sure does,” Connor interrupted, moving over to the cupboards. “Here, I’ll get the ingredients for you.”

As Connor worked, pulling out various utensils, he began asking you questions about you, trying to get Hank to like you just for the fun of it.

“So, (Y/N), how did you and Hank meet?”

“Oh it was really sweet. We were at a bar last night and some guy pinched my ass, and I was about to yell at him, but then Hank came over to defend my honour. It was so romantic. After that, we spent the night talking and well, here we are now, right sweetie?”

“…Right,” Hank answered non-committedly, trying to jog his own memory. Did he really do that? Why couldn’t he have minded his own business?

“Really?” Connor said enthusiastically. “That’s just like Hank. Did you know he’s works at the DPD? He’s always there to protect the citizens of Detroit and-”

“Connor, bedroom, now,” Hank glowered at Connor, who only smiled at you and excused himself, closely followed by Hank.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Hank hissed, once the door was closed and they were out of earshot.

“I was only-”

“Argh, I don’t care. Either help me get rid of her, or get the fuck outta here. You hear me?”

Rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically, Connor left the room, making his excuses to you before the house to go on yet another walk with Sumo.

“Bye Con,” You waved casually. “See you later. Well, I guess it’s just the two of us.”

Hank rubbed his beard awkwardly, dragging his hand down his face “Yeah about us…Listen, I’ve gotta be honest here. I don’t really remember anything about last night.”

Your face fell, “Oh…”

“And you seem like a nice girl, but uh- You’ve got a lot of life to live and you don’t want to go wasting it on a grumpy old fart like me, with a rough job and a heavy drinking problem.”

“Have you picked up women before?”

“What?��� Hank asked, your question throwing him.

“Like, do you do this all the time?”

“No. Honestly, I haven’t done anything like this in a long time.”

“Then it’s fate,” You exclaimed happily.

“What?”

“You said it yourself. You don’t normally do this. So, whatever happens Hank Anderson, I am going to recreate the spark we had last night, until you learn that I’m the one for you. Besides, you’re a charming, handsome silver fox. Why would I ever give that up?”

You wrapped your hands around Hank’s waist and pecked his cheek again, while he stood dumbfounded.

Hank watched you with a frown as you went back to mixing the pancake batter, all the while wondering just what the hell he had said the previous night that had earned your affection.

At noon that day, Connor came back somewhat glumly, prepared for the fact that you would be gone and that Hank was willing to give up on finding love again. He had genuinely liked you, after finding that you truly did have feelings for Hank. However, when he got back in, he found you at the table with Hank in an avid conversation about old music.

Hank took in Connor’s flummoxed expression, and answered it with an equally perplexing statement, “(Y/N)’s staying for dinner.”

“No kidding,” Connor chuckled. “Welcome to the Anderson’s, (Y/N).”

#hank anderson #Connor #hank anderson x reader #commission #detroit become human #detroit #Detroit: BH #DBH #sumo #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic

[ellasadventuresinfandoms]

Okay, back in May @isolatedphenomenon asked me if I had an les mis fic recs and I went "oh boy do I !" and then promptly fucked off and disappeared from tumblr for like 6 months...

Anyway on the off chance people are interested, here is my vastly too long list of  my favourite les mis fanfic (that I'm almost 100% sure I'll have accidentally missed some of my favourites off of...)

The vast majority of these are main pairing Enjolras/Grantaire, so I've put those first, divided into multi-chaptered and then one-shots. Below that will be other pairings!

Multi-chaptered

• Witch Boy Series : magic AU, starting with Grantaire solving Enjolras' curse - this is just Incredible world building which gets better as it goes on - my favourite is the Babet interlude

• World Ain't Ready : you know how fandoms tend to have a fic that is just associated with it ? in my experience, for les mis this is it - and well deserved ! High school, fake dating AU with some of the most engaging writing

• BE : Enjolras is dragged back into theatre production, helping Eponine put on a production of Hamlet - really love the characterisation in this, and this is really one of those modern AUs that actually feels like real life - really good writing

• After the End : the definitive apocalypse AU in my eyes - les amis are an underground resistance to the dystopian government - really wonderful characterisation of Grantaire and the amis

• You never have to wonder; you never have to ask. : I tend to find fic by scrolling through bookmarks of a pairing, which means I often see repeats; this is a fic that if I see I just re-read cause I know I'll enjoy it - the amis sparked a failed rebellion, and now 18 months later Grantaire ends up staying at Enjolras' after returning to Paris for Marius and Cosette's wedding

• Your Heart on Your Skin : Soulmate AU with flower tattoos marking important emotions and events - wonderful concept and world building 

• Impatient to Be Free : Daughters of Bilitis AU - if that doesn't make you excited I don't know what else to say to convince you (aside from saying the author is a simply wonderful writer)

• You Dance Dreams : Okay. Not to be over dramatic, but this fic did genuinely qualitatively change my life, in that it was the first thing that got me looking up contemporary ballet and now that's like one of my favourite things and big hobby So. Also its really great writing; music/creative arts school les amis with Grantaire choreohraphing the ballet for Combeferre's opera, with a heavy emphasis on Grantaire realising he really never actually got over Enjolras

• philia : this one is an absolute classic to me, but not given nearly enough recognition - one of the more realistic college AUs ever written, and the writing of Grantaire is so good because it hits the perfect balance of sympathy and annoyance about his behaviour (that's a genuine compliment) 

• Coffee Hooligans : fucking tragedy this never got properly finished, Enjolras leads the amis as social justice vigilantes and tries to hide the criminal bits of his life from R

• Fighting the Hurricane : Pacific Rim AU that's less an AU and more just placing the les mis characters in the Pacific Rim universe. Really good and riveting read, also super interesting depiction of Grantaire

• Weaving Olden Dances : Fairy AU - Grantaire "claims" Enjolras to prevent his execution - really good writing, love Grantaires characterisation 

• Paris Burning : canon era (sort of) where cities have a physical being - Grantaire is Paris and becomes entangled in Enjolras' revolution - oh the world building is truly *chefs kiss*

• Euphoria is You For Me : Enjolras and Grantaire keep meet cuting in a wonderfully written Brooklyn - feels like a love letter to Brooklyn at times, and I really like the characterisation of Grantaire 

• so please just fall in love with me this christmas : Enjolras works for the environmental company Grantaire volunteers at, and keeps getting secret gifts at Christmas - I sound a little like a broken record but the Grantaire characterisation is very good

• You Are the Moon : Wild West esque Space AU - Grantaire has to call on the amis to help rescue Valjean and Cosette, despite Grantaire leaving the amis 6 months before. On re-reading the Enjolras characterisation feels a little rushed, but overall fantastic story telling and the Grantaire arc is a Delight 

• Pandemos : Enjolras is aphrodite, and seeks peace from all his suitors in R/Hephestus' cave

• Pining for You : Hallmark christmas romance - Grantaire returns home to work on his father's tree farm, and Enjolras is the lawyer helping prevent the farm being sold - cute as shit imo

• Once We're Kings : Fantasy AU - a country hosts a ball to marry Prince Enjolras and the rival country sends Grantaire as a fuck you - one of the best ways of doing Enjolras as a prince in a fantasy and just really nicely written

• Never Bitter and All Delicious : Fairy Godmother AU - yes really, yes its genuinely a very good read

• On One Condition : Fantasy AU - Enjolras is a bored knight who finally goes to check out the local dragon, which turns out to be Grantaire - I really like how they capture Enjolras' stubborn nature and it's such a well written soft growth of love between them

• That's How Easy Love Can Be : Les Amis work at a primary school; and its secret santa time! very fun portrayal of Enjolras

• The Lark and Her Lieutenants : re write of canon where Cosette is the leader of the revolution - just *chefs kiss*

• If You Tickle Us, Do We Not Laugh : Grantaire is Enjolras' secret android - really good at writing a relationship that's incredibly loving but just keeps being antagonistic and coming off wrong 

One Shots

• True Colours : AU where you leave colours on the people important to you - Enjolras and Grantaire falling for each other is so soft and gently written its lovely, this is genuinely one of my favourites

• Keep It Kind, Keep It Good, Keep It Right : this one is so good to me, because it builds off my pet hatred of everyone assuming Enjolras doesn't care about (or at least actively show he cares about) his friends

• blooming : very soft post-dystopian utopia that has just a really wonderful sense of hope and light to me

• and the wall leaned away (or: The Pros and Cons of Tilling) : perfectly realised characterizations of the amis, Grantaire needs a date to her final year art exhibition - deals with anxiety over protest in a way that actually hits for me

• not just one of the crowd : R helps run a leftist bakery and bike repair shop - very cute characterisation, and I think more les mis fanfic should link to anarchist essays

• Lovesickness : Enjolras is an idiot and thinks he's sick rather than having a crush - the writing of Joly and Combeferre in this is some of my favourite depictions of these two

• If there's a rocket, tie me to it : absolutely heartbreaking sci-fi AU about the amis as doomed mecha pilots

• Where I Fall is Where I Land : Enjolras is a Roman commander as Rome's power is leaving England, and then meets the pict Grantaire (+ fun soulmark stuff !)

• You Started Foreign to Me : Enjolras moves to america and R is the overnight grocery clerk who helps her learn Spanish - cute fluffy lesbians with a wonderfully written driven Enjolras

• Love Is Touching Souls : very cute soulmate AU - and one I really love for really truly considering the implications of soul marks and creating historical lore around it

• Ten Years : R is a musician, and it non-linearly charts his relationship to Enj from high school to 10 years later

• put up with me then I'll make you see : Grantaire lives above Enjolras, and its christmas - I find it to have a very fun interpretation of pining Enjolras

• A Cat Called Trash Can : this was one of the first les mis fics I ever read (yes I know it says it was published in 2020, but I think it has to be a re-upload or something?) and it does still have a special place in my heart - Grantaire rescues a cat, but Enjolras is the only one with an apartment free to look after it 

• Still I'm Begging to Be Free : inception AU where les amis have to rescue a sleeping R from his own brain

•I'm in it for You : cw: illness, cancer - R has cancer and is being a martyr about telling his friends so Enjolras drives him back from chemo

• walls come tumbling down : sky high au - a very good high school AU with the perfect level of campy superhero powers

• This brave new world's not like yesterday : Enjolras needs a job, so ends up working in a bowling alley with Grantaire and bonding

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

• In Defiance of All Geometry : les amis are a student co-op house, Enjolras and Combeferre are pining friends and Grantaire is the newbie

• Still the Same : this is very good writing and very compelling - if you can get over the (imo) plot hole of Enjolras working for the FBI. R was an art thief Enj put away and is briefly helping the FBI out, and Combeferre is Enjolras' husband

• To Kingdom Come : cw: war and PTSD from that, Enjolras and Combeferre are part of a group of refugees that have crossed into a more fantasy land, and Grantaire is a lone traveller from that land that attempts to help - that was a shit summary of this very emotional, wonderfully written fic about war and love in all forms

• Gonna need (a spark to ignite) : I always love a twist on a classic trope, and this is a very fun take on the soulmate AU - Enjolras loses feeling in his soul mark as a child, falls in love with Grantaire and then his soulmate, Combeferre, turns up

Eponine/Cosette

• Pretty Girls Don't Know the Things That I Know : simply stunning writing - perfect example of soft writing about a harsh world

• she knows her way around : Eponine and Cosette bond, ostensibly so Eponine can find out about her for Marius, and their interactions are so playful and realistic, its wonderful

• always find me floating on oceans : Cosette stows away on Eponine's pirate ship - I do always have a soft spot for eposette fics (not just cause I ship it) because they truly characterise Cosette in a really considered and interesting way

• There's No Making Love : I'm putting this under eposette even though there is some significant enjolras/grantaire content, because the Cosette characterisation is so fun and cute

• round and round again : this fic really beautifully translates Cosette's bad childhood and then isolated teenage years, and the impact that would have on her as an adult into a modern AU

• Underwater Thunderheards : this is based off the book The Scorpio Races, and is just a really nice short fic  about longing

• How To Change The World Without Taking Power : Marius has a crush on Cosette and she's tried being polite and subtle in turning him down, so just ends up fake dating Eponine instead

• blood red fruit and poison's kiss : Snow White AU - Cosette as Snow White

• The Winters Cannot Fade Her : Snow White Au 2.0 - Eponine as Snow White - this was written as a pair to the one above which is just so cute to me

• marriage à la mode : Cosette and Eponine run a bridal shop together and it's very cute !

• Temporary Hold : I personally find this a really fun and very unique take on Cosette - with exams coming up she decides she needs to get laid on the reg and so hits up Eponine to act as if they're already long term girlfriends

Combeferre/Courfeyrac

• better than you had it : fake dating but kick it up an emotional notch - Courf and Ferre pretend to still be together after breaking up for a family event

• take flight, come near : nice and cute low fantasy, where Combeferre runs a dragon sanctuary and Courf finds an injured dragon

Rare Pairs

• The Future's Owned by You and Me : cute Enjolras/Feuilly with actual radical politics and real life organising difficulties and wins

• First Dates and Other Dangers : Combeferre and Grantaire agree to go on a blind date and it's awkward until it isn't - just cute !

• after midnight : Combeferre has insomnia and meets Grantaire in various all night fast food chains

• as you are : Bahorel and Jehan getting ready together

• Almost Romantic : Jehan works at a museum, and takes Combeferre on a little tour

• Understudy : Jehan/Combeferre, with Combeferre's insecurities regarding being seen as second best to Enjolras

• Here There Be Dragons : Courf/Enj/Ferre - Courf and Enj are superheroes and Ferre is the doctor that patches them up

• To Let it Occur (Laisser Faire la Nature) : Feuilly has a stupidly long stopover in Paris and meets Enjolras

• rule of three : Courf/Enj/Ferre as spies and loving boyfriends

• Good Rhetoric : snapshots of cute cuddly courf/enj/ferre

• subluxate, dislocate, replace : found family and chronic illness with Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

• Strike stone, strike home (like lightning) : so this fic took one minor piece of lore about Tolkien's dwarves and made a beautiful j/b/m fic from it

• Almost Inevitable : Bahorel/Feuilly friends-with-benefits

• god only knows (what I'd be without you) : Bahorel/Feuilly with a closeted Feuilly and a beautiful Feuilly and Eponine friendship

#les miserables #fanfic rec #les mis #les miserables fanfic #les miserables fanfic rec

[selfships-in-spanish]

Idk random thought but I think it would be cute/hot if canon!verse connor and ona where at home watching a movie and it ended up with them getting handsy with one another. Like, they're snuggled up under blankets and roaming hands lead to some fun times (like some finger fucking/handjob etc.).

Anon I am DEEPLY SORRY for how long it took, but between the creative rut I was in, the months I worked and such... I just had no time and words didn’t want to come to me. 

But I really hope you’re still around and that you enjoy this 6683 word smutty one-shot!

A bazillion thanks to @tinmiss1939 for helping me out with English and ideas when my brain decided to not cooperate <3

Warnings: smut! They get touchy 👀

––––––––––––––––––––

Saturday nights ended up being movie nights with Ona’s cozy blanket that her grandmother knit her as a Christmas present. She didn’t want her favourite grandchild being cold in the States, knowing Ona was used to her precious Mediterranean weather. Connor ended up snogging most of the blanket, even if it was big enough for two adults and had wool to spare. 

Ona made sure Connor was familiarised with the classics, checking out the long list of movies she wanted Connor to see, and Ona would also make popcorn and prepare thririum-sodas for Connor so he could enjoy The Experience. Connor was grateful for her efforts and felt her enthusiasm transmit to him too. He kind of regretted watching Terminator 2 because she kept asking him to repeat some lines, but he secretly looked for leather jackets. T-800 was… cool. 

Ona finished the popcorn, setting the bowl on the table next to their soda glasses. She was currently staring at the screen, quite invested in how Yoda trained Luke Skywalker on Dagobah. Connor ventured a look at her, eyes zeroing on her lips absently wrapping around her popcorn-salty fingers. He wondered how her tongue would feel on his own fingers, the texture, the heat. A notification appeared on his HUD, warning him about a slight rise in his core temperature. Connor ignored it. 

Connor decided a distraction from those thoughts would be good, and he went to reach for his own thirium-soda, keeping his eyes on the TV screen. Ona reached to the paper napkins she put there previously, wiping the remaining of the salt and saliva out of her fingers. Once done, she threw the crumpled paper napkin inside the popcorn bowl and rearranged herself on the sofa to find a comfortable position, which ended being by her leaning slightly into Connor. The poor android suppressed embarrassing noises at the fact that Ona was slightly touching his arm with hers. He couldn’t wait to actually feel her in his arms, some day. 

They kept their positions for a while, Connor not daring to move a single centimetre in case Ona realised her proximity and put some distance between them. But rA9, how he wanted to move to—

Ona leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. 

Connor wanted to scream. 

His olfactory sensors could pick up traces from her fruity shampoo and the pressure and heat sensors from his shoulder could feel the warmth from her cheeks and the comfortable weight of her head. Some stray curls tickled his neck. 

Connor wanted to scream. A lot. 

He stayed perfectly still, his breathing program stuttering slightly. Did she know what this meant? To him? Did she know how he longed to feel her against him and to be able to freely touch her? Touch her soft, snow white curls? Connor ignored the movie completely (not that Ona will ever know, he could download it and watch it anytime, as well as film analysis and data in case she wanted to discuss the plot and story points), focusing his attention on this tiny human that managed to make her way into his pump, unknowing of the depth she managed. 

He wanted to lean his head against hers too, he wanted to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her closer to him, he wanted to feel her entire weight on him, he wanted—

Ona nuzzled her head against Connor’s shoulder, shifting to make herself more comfortable. Connor was this close to make shutdown noises. 

Connor tried to analyse this situation: Ona was not uncomfortable with his presence, she was in fact seeking contact, and she was quite prone to seek human touch. She was a hugger, she liked holding his hand whenever she dragged him somewhere or would poke Hank’s chest when she teased him, sometimes even managing to convince Hank into letting her tie his hair in a ponytail. So, it wasn’t new she liked to touch her friends and people she was comfortable with, but the fact that she was touching him… he would never get used to it, or at least anytime soon. 

“Am I too heavy?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, slightly lifting her head to turn around just enough to face Connor. RA9, she was beautiful. 

“You are not, detective. My pressure plates and carbon fibre chassis can endure heavy weights and— what?” Ona was smiling at him, fondly, and with an amused spark in her eyes. Connor could get lost in her olive-green gaze. 

“You said detective,” Ona began, a teasing edge in her voice. “We are not in the precinct. Do I have to pull a Hank on you?” Hank was very loud about how he didn’t want to be called Lieutenant every single time his friend, because he wasn’t ready for son yet, talked to him. And Ona wasn’t shy to make herself heard either. 

“That will not be necessary, Miss Boix.” Ona raised a brow. “Ona.”

“That’s better. I like the way you say my name.” Ona got on her previous position, leaning her head on his shoulder again. Connor was too stunned to reply, having her words in a loop. What the hell does he reply to that?

Connor kept staring at the screen without really seeing anything. Half of his HUD was occupied with error notifications and temperature increases, as well as his pump regulator accelerating. The other half was occupied with romantic manoeuvres and tips he could execute to take a further step in their relationship. He decided to try one of the most used and well reviewed tactics: the arm stretching behind the couch. 

On the count of three, because he needed a mental kick from himself to move, Connor slowly nudged his shoulder, making Ona hum. She lifted her head, and Connor almost regretted moving because it meant she was no longer touching him, wasn’t letting her soft cheek press against his perfectly ironed shirt and— but it was for a good reason, he told himself. Connor lifted his arm, trying to ignore Ona’s questioning look, and made as if he stretched it as humans do after having a limb locked on a particular position for too long. 

“You should have told me you were uncomfortable, bobo.” Ona mumbled, shifting into a new position. 

“No!” Ona looked back at him, startled at his outburst. Connor mentally kicked himself. “No, uh. I’m okay. I, uh…” Ona frowned, Connor didn’t stutter. The android decided to finish executing his move. Carefully, he let his arm fall and curl on Ona’s shoulder, making her head rest on it. “I thought you would be more comfortable like this.”

He made it. Connor made it. He executed it perfectly, as expected from an android. 

Ona smiled, an “awww” escaping her lips, being touched by Connor’s concern. She snuggled further, pulling the blanket up and making a cocoon with both of them inside. One of her hands rested on his chest. 

Connor was a wreck. 

For Connor, Ona felt as if she fit right there, in his arms, as if he had been perfectly designed to fit her body. It was a silly thought, but it made Connor giddy. Ona was warm, she was a comfortable weight against his own body, and he quite liked the feeling of it. He could get used to it.

Both human and android resumed watching the sci-fi classic, Connor still processing what just happened. Deviancy was new, deviancy was scary, but with Ona, Hank and the Jericho crew next to him, it was a less frightening journey. Deep in his thoughts, Connor didn’t notice a slight tugging at his tie. Looking down, he saw Ona’s hand tugging at it with a displeased frown.

“Aren’t you suffocating with this?” Connor looked at the perfectly made windsor knot, apparently offending Ona’s standards of ‘comfy movie night’.

“I can’t suffocate–”

“Shush, you know what I mean!” Ona teased him, flicking the silky end. “It looks a little bit constricting for a pajama-ish movie night, don’t you think?” Connor considered her reasoning and she surely had more experience in such matters than him, anyways. Maybe he should listen for once. “C’mon, loosen up a bit! You can relax here.” Connor was the opposite of relaxed, having her so close and being so carefree with her touch. But, maybe he should really give it a shot.

“Well, I suppose I could... try.” 

Ona grinned, not caring to hide how pleased she was that Connor both listened to her and tried to loosen up as she suggested. The twinkle in her eyes spurred Connor into action. He sat up, efficiently undoing the knot. The android folded the tie and left it on top of the table, Ona snorting at the mannerisms he couldn’t shake off. Feeling daring, Connor unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He looked back at her in time to see her roll her eyes and slightly shake her head.

“No no no! That’s not loosening up! We are not in the Victorian period and you are not a victorian lady showing an ankle, bobo!” Ona sat up and inched closer to Connor, not giving him time to react when she grabbed his shirt and unbuttoned a few more buttons, pleased at the hint of a collarbone. Connor’s pump rhythm skyrocketed. “There, much better!”

Connor could count every tiny freckle on her skin, being as close as she was, and he could also see the hint of gold in her beautiful olive green eyes. He wanted to say thank you, but got lost in her gaze. 

Ona patted his chest, smiling once more before shifting into her previous position, but this time much closer with her head propped up fully on his shoulder and her hand resting on his clothed chest. Her weight was comfortable, he liked it, and unconsciously he let his arm fall once again and curl around her, pulling her slightly closer. Ona sighed contentedly, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.

They settled for a comfortable silence, enjoying the movie. Connor liked when Ona giggled at some parts of it, made tiny commentaries and got excited when her favourite scenes came on. He also liked how her curls tickled his now more exposed skin, whenever she laughed or shifted, and the warm weight of her hand on his chest. Connor had to force his artificial breathing program to not stutter or become erratic; she could not suspect of her effect on him in case she moved away at the knowledge of it. Connor thought it was selfish of him, and felt guilty of it, but he really wanted to be a bit selfish sometimes, as both Ona and Hank suggested more than once.

His pressure sensors detected a soft caress on his clothed chest. Connor ventured a look and found Ona still looking attentively at the screen, as if her thumb wasn’t mindlessly brushing Connor’s chest. Connor concentrated on the feel of it, letting himself bask in the glory of her touch. He knew what this kind of gesture meant, Connor did an extensive research on affectionate touches and their meanings, so he really allowed himself to chase that fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, Ona wanted more.

Ona shifted again, getting more comfortable on Connor’s shoulder, and her hand didn’t move from its spot or cease its movement. In fact, it slipped slightly forward, inching near the open shirt. Connor was very aware of the spare centimetres between his naked synthskin and Ona’s hand. She kept caressing his chest with her thumb and Connor didn’t dare to move. Until his sensors picked up the movement and slight pressure of her hand moving forward. 

Connor was never prepared for the feel of her fingers on his chest, warm human skin against his synthskin. He wouldn’t know how to describe it, how wonderful and exhilarating it was, how eager it made him for more. Ona kept brushing her fingers against his chest, appearing completely oblivious of it. His hand unconsciously twitched on her shoulder, as if looking for an outlet to release everything he was bottling up in a false sense of calmness. Connor didn’t know how to proceed; all this was new, the whole world was brand new after deviating and Ona made him feel things he didn’t know the name yet.

But he liked those things. 

Ona was a comfortable weight, and he absolutely loved the tingling feeling her fingers left when they lifted off his skin. It sent the android equivalent of “shivers” down his spine, to every connector, every nook of his body. He wanted more.

A snort escaped Ona’s lips. Connor registered that a funny line happened in the movie, but he completely ignored it in favor of saving in a special folder, that he will never say it is labeled as Ona or that he has it, every stroke of her hand, every curl tickling his skin and adding more input to his already overloaded connectors and sensors.

Ona’s hand ventured its way up, leaving tiny sparks of electrical fire on her trail. Her fingers brushed Connor’s collarbone, softly, as if Ona didn’t want to spook Connor with her boldness. Connor had to bite back a noise he didn’t know he was capable of doing, the sensation of her touch melting him right where he was. But it felt good, so good, to be touched like this. Connor unconsciously bit his lip.

Connor didn’t see the glint in Ona’s eyes. In another situation, like catching a perp, Connor would know that glint meant Ona was determined and even dangerous; once she put her attention on something, she would chase it off like a lioness. Right now, Connor was her prey.

Ona shifted once again, her fingers leaving a trail up his neck. Her fingernails lightly scraped Connor’s synthskin, as if on accident, and he couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped his lips. He was too focused on the pleasant feeling of her touch to notice her leaning into him. Connor would never, ever, be ready for the exhilarating feel of her soft lips kissing his neck so tenderly. His hand squeezed Ona’s shoulder, wanting to melt right there as she kept peppering Connor’s synthskin with tiny butterfly kisses. He was so scared to move, to do something wrong and probably tear Ona from this haze. When her lips brushed his jawline Connor let out a breathy pant.

Connor’s HUD was suddenly invaded by warnings and alerts, programs initiating that he was not aware he had them installed. His temperature was rising and pop-ups kept coming. It was more than obvious that Ona had other plans in mind than watch a movie. Is this what humans really meant with the “Netflix and chill” saying, used a long time ago? But more importantly, Ona wanted to do… intimate things, with him? She didn’t mind he was not human? Given the enthusiasm, no, she didn’t mind at all.

Ona tugged slightly aside the collar of Connor’s shirt, giving her more room and more of Connor’s synthskin to kiss. She couldn’t resist temptation and lightly nibbled where his neck met his shoulder. 

“Ah!” Connor arched his back, closing his eyes at the onslaught of sensations running through his very wires. Ona unglued herself from his body, making Connor want to whine at the lack of her warmth and weight against his body. 

“Shit, sorry.” Ona’s voice seemed panicked for a moment. “Fuck. Joder. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” 

Connor opened his eyes and tried to focus on her lovely, very flushed face. Her pupils were blown out, almost eating her beautiful green irises, and her lips were redder than usual, something Connor would never get tired from looking at. 

“I went too far, didn’t I?” Ona covered her face in shame with her hands, groaning. 

He wanted to say so much, but even if he had 300 languages at his disposal, Connor was unable to find the words he needed to express himself with.

“I…” could he convey what he felt through his eyes? Would Ona catch the need in them?

“Do you... do you want to go or...?” Guess not. Ona sat back, twisting one of her curls on her finger, something Connor noticed she did when she was nervous. Connor closed his eyes, frustrated. 

This was the chance he wanted after all this time of pining after the tiny human detective that made his pump skip its perfect rhythm.

It was now or never. Connor turned to face her, nervous. He lifted his hands and felt his fingers twitch, as if they exactly knew the meaning behind his intentions. Connor made Ona turn her head to face him, holding her in place. For once, Connor stopped thinking and decided to let his heart act. 

Connor crashed his lips against hers. 

Ona let out a surprised noise, but was happy she didn’t scare Connor off, and let him do as he wanted. His lips were soft, and somehow Ona expected them to be a bit more stiff and cold, but they felt like they belonged there, with hers, warm and pliant. She let Connor take his time, have his sweet first kiss at his pace and liking, chaste and innocent, but even if she wanted to be there like this for the rest of her life, she needed to breathe. 

Breathing through her nose made Connor remember that humans needed oxygen, and that he was depriving his precious detective of it. Embarrassed, Connor parted from her lips with a million sorry’s ready to spill from his own, chastiting himself for not thinking about it. See? This is what happens when he doesn’t think, and now Ona–

Connor found his thoughts halted once again when Ona kissed him back, crawling on his lap to have a better angle. She let her weight rest on him, liking how well her body fit with his. Connor let his hands rest on her waist, not knowing where to put them exactly. Since his mind was occupied right now, he let them wander as they liked. Ona didn’t mind one bit. 

Wanting more, Ona lightly bit Connor’s bottom lip to make him gasp at the feeling and open his mouth. She took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, letting her tongue touch Connor’s as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him flush with her body. Ona was careful, slow, letting Connor get used to it, verging on sweet. Connor didn’t know if it was in some code ingrained deep in him, or the salty taste of her tongue due to the popcorn she ate before, but it felt divine. 

Thinking about the extensive research Connor did, preparing himself for the day this exact moment happened, he decided to put in motion one of the things he saw and read about. One of his hands went to cup the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her white curls. The other one wrapped itself around her, securing the manoeuvre. He read about the intimacy of kisses, of bodies touching, tongues dancing with each other and the sweet noises that fueled the passion. He also watched videos trying to educate himself on the matter and thinking about him and the detective in such situations, going as far as having reconstructions in his mind that rendered him a blushing mess and his LED a permanent red. He wanted it. He wanted it so much. Nothing he watched compared to the reality of this moment. 

Adding a little bit of pressure, Connor made Ona turn her head more to the side so he could properly deepen the kiss. Ona’s muffled moan made his core temperature rise, and he inhaled fresh air to try to cool his body. His other hand descended from her back, brushing the hem of her sweatpants, and let it rest on her buttock. Connor unconsciously squeezed it, making Ona arch into him and gasp in between sloppy kisses. Ona made a mess of Connor’s neatly styled hair, and honestly he couldn’t give a damn about it. 

Connor felt a change in Ona’s movements, and he frowned, not pleased at having to stop. 

“Wait— Conn— Hmpf!“ Ona abruptly tried to stop the kiss, untangling herself from him and trying to mumble words in between kisses. Connor chased her lips until he felt her fingers stop him. 

Connor felt like ice-cold water fell on him, freezing the poor android on the spot. Did he misread the situation? Did Ona not want this anymore? Did he go too far? Did he—?

“Wait. Connor,” Ona took a deep breath to gather her wits. This had been amazing and she needed more, but she needed to ask him something first. “Wait— no, don’t give me that look, let me explain. I… You did nothing wrong, if that’s what you are asking yourself, quite the contrary. I loved this, I longed for this, but I want to know if you want it too.”

“If I want it too? Kissing you back hasn’t proved it enough to—” Connor didn’t understand. He liked her, he kissed her, maybe he didn’t do it enough to prove his point?

“I don’t want to force anything on you, Connor! I want you to want this as much as I do, but I don’t want to force you or coerce you into wanting this. I don’t want to screw it up. I really, really like you. And I really want to know if you want this—“

Connor reached for her hands, squeezing them in his. 

“You really don’t know how many times I dreamed of this, of you. I always wondered how your lips would feel, or your touch.” Connor felt daring and bold. This was his chance. “I want you, Ona. I want this. And if we don’t go back to this wonderful human thing called kissing, I’ll—“

Ona let out a relieved laugh. Connor tugged her back to him, urged Ona to sit on his lap as she was doing before. Connor held her face in his hands, touching his forehead with hers. 

“This whole... deviant thing is new and scary. Feelings are scary, but… I want to explore them with you. Good and bad.” Connor’s voice was low and soft, as if he didn’t want to break their little bubble.

“Then… let’s take it slow.” 

Ona pressed her lips against Connor’s again, softly, letting the sweetness of the moment dictate the pace they wanted to follow. The movie kept playing in the background, completely forgotten.

Connor let his hands descend Ona’s body, as if he was mapping once again her figure, trying to save it in his memory forever. It always mesmerised Connor how soft and squishy humans could be, and he let himself squeeze his hands against her flesh once again, relishing the thrilling sensation of having his hands so full.

That elicited a low moan from Ona, who in return slowly rocked her hips against Connor’s. The android let out a groan himself, getting a hold of her hips and pushing her down against him again. It felt so good, the pressure sending sparks all over his body, and he couldn't wait to learn more about this wonderful human thing called makeouts. Connor wasn’t stupid, he did his research and he knew humans and sex had a tight relationship, although it wouldn’t be good to generalise since what made humans so unique and beautiful, was the diversity in their race. But still, he wanted to explore it with Ona if she wanted to, and right now he couldn’t be thanking RA9 more than he was right now for letting this happen.

Ona felt like taking things up a notch, and she loved the reaction she got out of Connor the first time –despite her momentum of panic–, so she broke the kiss to brush her lips against his jaw, nuzzling her nose against his neck. Ona felt Connor’s artificial breath stutter in its impeccable rhythm, and was delighted to see how Connor bared his neck to her. Ona wasted no time, peppering the exposed synthskin with slow and wet kisses, while she kept grinding her hips against him. Feeling his excitement only fueled her own more. 

Her hands busied themselves with the remaining buttons of Connor’s shirt, impatient to have his chest and torso fully exposed for her to see and touch. Having the always impeccably dressed android under her, all sense of decorum and propriety gone, gave Ona a rush nothing else could give her. Ona bit her lip once her work was done and could gaze at her prize. He was delightful, beautiful, truly a work of art. Connor’s flushed cheeks and red, shiny lips made her feel herself clench, desperate to have something fill her.

Connor’s irises were engulfed by his pupils, lust coating them, and Ona marveled at how expressive his eyes were. Connor had always been a quick learner, though, and he could see how much Ona needed to be touched right now. His hands reached the hem of her sweatpants again, and this time he didn’t pass the opportunity to get his hands inside them, feeling the soft fabric of her underwear slid under his fingertips. It was Ona’s turn to close her eyes and let out a shaky exhale, eager to see what Connor would do this time. A soft gasp escaped her lips when Connor got his hands inside her underwear too, feeling his fingers on her burning skin. He squeezed the flesh of her buttocks in his hands, feeling the fullness of it. Ona groaned, arching her back to give Connor more leverage. The android sat up while Ona was distracted, pulling her close to his body. Connor decided he wanted to do the same things Ona did to him, to make her feel as good as he did, and now that he had her neck in full display, he was going to take advantage of that.

Kissing her feverish skin was delicious, but Connor knew he was only adding more wood to the fire the moment he bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder, replicating her actions from before. The reaction was instantaneous: Ona’s moan echoed around her living room, her nails digging in Connor’s shoulders as she felt shivers run up and down her body. His tongue soothed the mark he left, kissing it as an apology, although the thought of her having a mark made by him excited Connor more than he expected. And by the looks of it, Ona didn’t mind much. Connor left a trail of kisses up her neck, reaching her jaw, and left another mark right under it.

“Ah!” Connor scored another win for himself, pleased at how the proud and self-assured detective was becoming putty in his hands. “You do not play fair, Connor. You already know one of my weak spots.” Her teasing tone made him smile, hiding it behind a kiss on her shoulder.

“I am the most advanced android detective, after all.” that made Ona laugh, leaning back to see the mirth in Connor’s eyes. His sense of humour improved greatly.

“Aren’t you a cocky android, hm?” Connor winked in response, which made Ona snort. She knew exactly how to wipe off that self-satisfied expression from Connor’s face. 

Connor knew that arched brow and mischievous smile meant trouble, but he was quite eager to find out what Ona was planning to do. She pushed him back on the sofa, his hands sliding out from under her clothes to end up getting a hold of her hips. Connor decided she looked absolutely stunning in her loose maroon t-shirt and slightly pushed down grey sweatpants. Her underwear was peeking out too, and the little visible piece of fabric made him swallow hard.

“Let’s see how cocky are you now, Mr.Detective.”

Ona’s hands descended from Connor’s shoulders to his chest, savoring the feeling of her fingertips grazing the perfectly designed muscles. Ona slowed down when she was close to his belt, teasing the belt loops, tugging them slightly. Connor’s breath hitched when her fingers skimmed over the belt buckle. His eyes were glued to her hands, watching as she undid the buckle and teased the button of his trousers. Connor let out a stuttered breath as Ona’s palm pressed against his zipper, pulled taut by his erection. 

Deciding she wanted to tease him a little bit more, Ona slipped her fingers inside Connor’s trousers, over his underwear, as he did to her before. Connor arched his back off the sofa, groaning at the feeling of Ona’s fingers grasping his clothed cock. Connor’s hands squeezed Ona’s hips, needing something to hold onto as he was blown away by the feeling of her fingers on him.

It felt amazing.

Ona took her hand out much to Connor’s dismay, a soft and breathy “no no no–” escaping his lips, followed by an “–oh” when he saw that Ona was undoing the button of his trousers and pulling the zipper down. 

“Up.” Connor got the message. He lifted his hips so Ona could push down his clothes just enough to free his aching erection from them.

Ona let out a soft moan at the sight of Connor’s cock in full display, rock hard against his belly. She felt herself clench, as if trying not to make more of a mess on her underwear as she was doing now. Ona wanted to do a lot of things right now. She wanted to push her own sweatpants and underwear down and ride him until he burned his vocal module from moaning, she wanted to get on her knees and pleasure him, feel his hands on her head as he guided her to how he liked it best, she wanted to–

They will have time to do all of that. For now, Ona wanted tonight to be for him, to discover what he liked, what it felt like. Ona looked up and was met with hungry and desperate eyes. Connor was on the verge of begging Ona to do anything, because judging by what he felt before, this was going to be even better.

Slowly, Ona trailed her finger from base to tip, pleased at the amount of wetness gathered at the head. Connor stuttered, not tearing his gaze from Ona’s own lustful ones until she did to look down again. He did the same, and the image he found would be forever stored in his memory bank, locked up in a special folder. She was smaller than him, he often marvelled at the difference between them and how her hands were shorter than his, for example, and in this exact moment he couldn’t be more delighted to see how said hand wrapped itself around his cock. He was not ready for when she moved. 

Connor cried out, throwing his head back on the sofa’s headrest. His sensors were going absolutely crazy. He felt as if fire was spreading all over his connections and he wanted more, so much more. Ona’s hand was covered in a sheer blue slick, the fluid helping her motions. The sound of it was downright sinful, and it only turned both human and android more.

Connor’s thirium pump was pounding in his chest, moaning and groaning, his interior fans fighting to keep the body temperature in check. It was getting harder as Ona started squeezing her hand when she reached the head of his cock, way more sensitive than the rest, and Connor’s hips involuntarily thrusted upwards when her other hand renewed her journey on his chest, making sure she traced his collarbone and neck.

One well placed tug made Connor keen, feeling light-headed, and unconsciously pulled Ona to his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Her hand was trapped between them, but she never ceased her movements. Ona’s curls brushed Connor’s cheek, some strands being plastered over her forehead, and Connor could feel her rapid breaths tickling his ear. 

Connor, in a moment of clarity and feeling a tad bold, had an idea. He still doesn’t know how he managed to tear one of his hands apart from Ona’s body, but he had to make Ona feel as good as him. He was no stranger to human anatomy, and even less human genitalia, so he knew what he had to do in Ona’s case. He sneaked a hand inside the front of her sweatpants and underwear, feeling her smooth skin until he found her mound. Connor didn’t stop there, he kept going until his fingers brushed her soaked wet clit. Her hitched breath was music for his audio modules.

“Connor–!” Ona jolted, arching her back and gasping, melting his name into a moan. 

Connor decided, right in that moment, that his name never sounded so divine before. The sensors on his fingers picked up the generous amounts of wetness gathered in them, and Connor had the urge to taste it. But that was something for later, now he had more important matters in his hands. 

Recalling all the information he previously searched, Connor let his fingers be completely soaked in Ona’s juices, knowing it would make the glide smoother. Her folds were soft to his touch, velvety, and Connor loved the feel of it. Her heavy breaths and moans on his ear spurred him to keep going, to trace every inch of her sex, to tease her entrance with his finger pads. Connor’s other hand released his hold on Ona’s hip, moving it up to brush her nape and bury itself on her hair. Ona reacted to his touch, raising her head from Connor’s shoulder to took at him. Her lips were shining bright, reddened from worrying them with her teeth, and Connor felt the urge to kiss them again. 

So he did, swallowing Ona’s moan as Connor got his middle and ring finger inside her, feeling her walls pulse around him, burning. Ona had to stop pumping her hand, needing a moment to gather her wits as Connor moved his fingers in and out of her, his thumb finding Ona’s clit and rubbing it slowly, almost lazily, which drove Ona mad with pleasure. When Ona renewed her movements, gripping Connor’s cock harder, the android groaned and bit Ona’s bottom lip, getting his tongue inside as she did earlier. Connor felt a gush of slick tickle down his hand, and it only excited him more to know it was because of him.

Having his sensors overloaded continuously from the new and pleasurable sensations, Connor had a feeling this would crest soon. He was tempted to cut out the process of it so it would last longer, all night if possible, but he desperately needed to find his release. He felt like a spring fiercely recoiled, ready to snap at any given moment, and Ona’s tiny moans and gasps of his name as she rocked herself on his fingers only catapulted him into it. He had a feeling Ona was close too.

But oh, that felt so good. He doesn’t exactly know what Ona did, but it felt amazing, so Connor let himself be drowned in it, thrusting his hips up at the same time as Ona to pulled down her hand. He was close, so close, so–

“Ona, I’m– I think I’ll– Ah!”

Connor came all over Ona’s hand and his belly with a jerk of his hips, throwing his head back into the sofa as he let the shockwaves consume him whole. In the process, Connor unconsciously pulled on Ona’s hair, needing to grip onto something, and with a brush of his thumb on her clit Ona came right after him, blessing Connor with a mixture of spanish curse words and moans. Connor felt the tight grip on his fingers, her juices coating him even more, and the thought and feel alone made another glob of synthetic cum dribble over her.

Ona let her forehead rest on Connor’s one, panting and trying to regain her breath again. Connor mimicked her, trying to cool his body and helping his frenzied interior fans. When Ona opened her eyes, he found Connor gazing at her with such emotion behind his eyes that made Ona’s heart skip a beat. Connor’s hand was still on Ona’s back of the head, so in a moment where he just let himself follow his heart, Connor pulled Ona in for a sweet, slow kiss. When they parted, it was Ona’s time to gaze at Connor, wondering how beautiful he was right in that instant with his hair disheveled and a blush on his cheeks.

The ending fanfare of the movie credits made her trance break, noticing Connor’s sticky release in her hand beginning to cool. Ona released her hold on Connor’s cock, raising her hand to her face so she could inspect it closer. Connor sheepishly did the same, trying to ignore the squelching sound of his fingers getting out of her and how his own cock twitched in response. Connor knew he could stop the refractory period too, ready to go for another round until he ran out of thirium and had to enter into stasis, but he had a feeling Ona wouldn’t appreciate that. Instead, he inspected Ona’s own cum on his fingers, the fluid sticking to his fingers too. 

Connor swore he didn’t mean to, it was a completely unconscious decision, but he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her. A soft giggle made him look up, his cheeks burning out of shame.

“That is so… you.” Ona’s warm smile made Connor know she was not teasing him or angry. It was genuine. She made a conscious effort to inspect her own fingers, coated with the blueish fluid on them. Connor made a move to stop her, feeling suddenly embarrassed of it, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop her. Ona’s tongue peeked from her mouth, licking one finger. She hummed, followed by a snort when Connor’s voice module did an undignified noise at the sight of it. “I thought it would taste… plastic-ish. It’s actually not bad.”

“...Synthetic ejaculate can have different flavours, if desired.” Connor will never know what triggered that piece of information to appear on his HUD, and what made him say it, but Ona’s open-hearted laugh was worth it.

“Put a sweet, chocolate-ish flavour in, and you will have me all day on my knees and you know it.” Ona turned around just enough to grab tissues from the coffee table, wiping her hand clean, as if she had just commented on the weather. 

Connor was suddenly assaulted by reconstructions of what Ona just said, rendering him to a violently spinning red LED and his blush program glitching, making his cheeks reach a bluish glow. Ona hastily threw aside the used tissue, not caring where it went, when he noticed Connor’s state.

“Oh my God! Connor, are you okay?” Ona held Connor’s face in her hands, desperately searching for an answer in his eyes. Connor looked at her, his LED reverting back into yellow.

“There’s vanilla flavour, strawberry flavour, milk chocolate with caramel flavour–” Ona snorted, bumping her forehead with his.

“You oaf, I was worried!” Connor raised his brow as if questioning her. If he was being cocky again it meant he was okay and back to normal. Ona guilty looked to the side.“...milk chocolate with caramel.”

Connor smiled. Ona shook her head, smiling too, as she turned around again to pick up more tissues for Connor.

“Let’s clean you up.” Connor kept smiling, feeling dazed with happiness, as he let Ona do as she pleased. Once clean, Connor pushed and fastened his trousers and belt, as Ona mourningly buttoned his shirt.

Ona stood up once finished, her face twisting into a grimace as she felt the cold and sticky mess in her panties. She looked down, trying not to worsen it by moving too much.

“...And I need new underwear.”

Connor stood up with her, eagerness coating his movements and voice.

“Let me help you with that.”

#dbh #detroit become human #rk800 #rk800 x oc #canonverse #mius writes #smut #ask #anon

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Epilogue: After)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

also on ao3

note: this is part two of a double update. chapter 11, which comes before the epilogue, is here.

this is the last chapter of this fic. many thanks to all who stayed with me to this point. the sequels will be out in the future, so stay tuned for updates.

---

‘Ellen, I don’t know if I’m still alive when you wake up, but I… I’ll most likely be dead. Probably. I’m sorry for that.

‘I know you’ll also probably hate me for turning into this without your permission but… it’s done. You’ll need it later. The Church is yours now. We can’t let our daughter hide the fate of humanity. I… I’m… ashamed… to admit that we’re losing, but if I’m correct on what she’s going to do, we might… we might just be able to turn the tide. Humanity has lived in the dark long enough, and we can need some guiding light from the stars.

‘As for our son… He went with the android. The two of them aren’t important in the grand scheme of things, but if you want to contact them… do it with Safaa only. I still don’t know where that android stands.

‘Please, keep the Church alive. Don’t let the world remain in the darkness imposed by our daughter. This can be the chance for humanity to advance beyond our understanding, and we can’t let it get away.

‘I love you.’

The message ends. The screen of the tablet goes dark. The figure holding it in the darkness of the room squeezes the glass until it breaks underneath their finger. 

They haul the broken device towards the wall with a crackle of blue and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. Shades of blue pulse within their chassis, the light visible only due to the dim surroundings and the sheer power contained between pieces of metal, outlining the face of a woman who should have died 10 years ago.

Ellen Ryder.

oOoOo

In President Warren’s office, a phone rings. She looks at the officer assigned to her as security as if waiting for him to check for any taps or bugs, but instead of performing his duty - which he has done faithfully for the better part of the day - he unholsters his gun and points it towards her.

‘What are you doing?’ there is a hint of panic at the edge of her voice, but she doesn’t move from her seat at her desk. Unbeknownst to her, the guards in the White House rotate their shift before the designated time, replacing normal army personnel with someone else, and the entire security system has been deactivated subsequently.

‘I suggest you take the call, ma’am,’ the officer - or whoever he is - says, his voice laced with the static of his helmet’s speaker. ‘For both your own sake and the nation’s.’

She does, picking up the receiving and raising it slowly to her ear without taking her eyes off the man holding her at gunpoint. ‘Yes?’

‘Remember me, Warren?’ A man’s voice, one that no one is familiar with yet. ‘Doesn’t matter. I do believe you have been keeping an eye on the status of Detroit, haven’t you?’

A frown. ‘Who are you?’

‘A messenger, if you wish. I’m here to offer a deal.’

‘Who are you?’ the President repeats. Then, more to the man in the room, ‘You are committing treason and can be charged -’

‘Not if the world chokes to death before the trail can be held,’ the man on the other side of the call says nonchalantly. ‘Are you familiar with the Scrubber Project, Madam President? It’s the most appropriately-named large-scale project I’ve ever seen. Six inhabited continents, six gigantic structures floating in the sky, all of them working together to form the last line of defence against humanity’s doom. Go look it up. I’ll wait.’ She turns on her terminal and quickly requests the related documents. As if knowing that she has got the information in her hands, the man continues, ‘Here comes the deal,’ a sigh, a shift of weight, a smack of skin against skin, a whine from another voice quickly suppressed as if it is muffled. The President swallows. ‘I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention to the reports the military has been sending you these past few months or even the past few hours, but there’s no way you can win a war against androids, really. Humans may outnumber androids, but American androids… let’s say the very material that makes them this advanced also makes them the perfect weapons. You should watch the recording again; it’s quite impressive, really, all the ripping and floating and blue sparks.’

Warren steels her expression and voice. ‘Get to the point.’

‘Fine, fine,’ another huff. ‘Of course, you’re the president and I’m just a messenger so I can’t exactly stop you from going to war if you’re dead set on it, but if the casualty that will bring isn’t enough to stall you… we might just turn off a scrubber or two. You know, because not that androids will need clean air when they’re done with killing humans anyway, and operating one of those is expensive as fuck.’

The last word doesn’t seem to be intentional even though it fits the sentence. The sound from the other side is muffled as if someone has put their hands on the mic, but one can faintly make out words like ‘brat’ and ‘begging’ and ‘important call’. They are followed by the rumble of something falling onto the ground, but then the reception clears up again. ‘So, what do you think, Madam President? Giving the androids the freedom they deserve at our pace in exchange for humanity’s survival. It sounds like a nice deal to me.’

‘I will have to go through -’

‘We’ll have someone on your end to help you, of course. Don’t worry about the legal stuff. Hear that?’ A pause followed by a crackle of static laced with screams and yelling. ‘That’s the sound of your friends in CyberLife dying and losing their power. And save your tongue, there is no need to argue. We have a puppet ready in case we have to pop your head.’

Warren looks at the man holding her captive again, finally realising that his arm hasn’t moved at all even though he must have been holding up the gun for the past few minutes, and she watches as he takes off his helmet just to reveal an ever-shifting face that, after a few seconds of flickering skin and shifting particles, it becomes the same as the President’s very own image.

‘So yeah,’ the man on the other side continues while not-Warren bores their eyes into her. ‘No one will know and no one will miss you. A human’s mind is surprisingly easy to emulate, been there, done that. I sure as fuck don’t know how it works, but… it works.’

‘Lame, Councilor,’ not-Warren’s voice warps and twists and jumps between the octaves when they speak as if they can’t settle down on one single tone. ‘They shouldn’t have let you talk.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t exactly brought onto the plan as a scientist, but you get what I mean, right, Madam President?’

The plastic of the receiver creaks in her grip.

‘I’ll give you five minutes,’ the playfulness in the man’s voice is gone. ‘Should be enough to make the logical choice. If you think you can stall us… you will be reduced to fundamental particles so fast that it won’t even be satisfying.’

#dbh au big bang #ellen ryder #dbh christina warren #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

[jeichanhaka]

The Robbed That Smiles

Chapter Ten

“Well?” Stark prodded, reraising the forcefield to prevent the female Jotunn from leaving. An action that earned him a furious stare from Reyda, the Asgardian healer pivoting on her heel. The calming spell she’d cast over Lokki faded as she did so, broken by her own anger.

“Stop hassling my patient!” Reyda demanded, before seeking assistance from Thor to get the man to back off. “Lady Lokki needs rest, not an interrogation, sire.” The healer beseeched, though she hardly needed to as the others agreed with her, backing up her assertion to varying degrees. “Whether you trust my lady or not, she is with child. And certainly you can…”

“How do we even know she’s actually pregnant?” Stark blurted, slightly wincing as the burning sensation in his palm worsened. Flaring up in tandem with him airing a suspicion he had since learning of the mischief goddess’ condition. “You mentioned yourself that you couldn’t actually do any tests confirming Miss Nippy’s pregnancy. And as the goddess of lies, faking it would be simple.”

“You question my expertise?” Reyda stood up straight and glared daggers at the Avenger, affronted. “Or you think that I didn’t prepare for…”

“Why, pray tell, do you think I’m here then?” Lokki interrupted the healer’s spiel about not being the naive being the Avenger assumed, that Reyda had gone into her meeting with Lokki prepared to see through any trick the female Jotunn may use. Back still turned to Stark and everyone else Lokki repeated her question. Her voice was even and much quieter, albeit laced with an underlying venom. “What reason would I have to stick around here where I’m magically shackled and viewed with suspicion by each of you?”

“No idea.” Stark replied curtly, the quickness of his answer and its tone earning him surprised and irritated looks. “But if you’re trying to convince me that it’s because you’re pregnant and not for some devious scheme...”

Lokki scowled, facing away from Stark and the other Avengers, her posture exuding a royal contemptuous air. For a moment, she started to answer but stopped and bit down on the edge of her tongue, nicking it. After a moment, during which the other Avengers argued with Stark, even Natasha, who shared the billionaire’s suspicions aside from his doubt of Lokki’s pregnancy, Lokki turned around.

Eyeing the group with a chilly gaze, her lips pressed into a firm frown, the mischief goddess considered her words. Mulling over her options while attempting to keep as calm as possible. A difficult endeavor, but one she was determined to achieve. Less than two weeks may have passed since her arrival in this universe, but the past nine-ish days had been the most relaxing for her in months. And certainly the safest.

“Selfie?” Loki approached the goddess, his gaze focused on his doppelganger. Himself the only one of the group who wasn’t distracted by arguing with Stark. A deep crease formed on his forehead as he noted Lokki’s demeanor - unable to hide behind an illusion, the goddess’ face was fairly readable by the mischief god. Even as Lokki tried to smother any glimmer of emotion in her eyes or lips, the mischief god noticed the signs of her inner conflict. He reached out for her.

Noticing the movement, Lokki sidestepped away from the mischief god’s reach, and threw him a cold, scathing look. It and the fact the suppression bracers once more bore signs of Lokki’s frost flaring up, halted Loki mid-approach. Hesitance that he overcame within seconds as his doppelganger’s eyes glazed over and she collapsed without warning.

~0~

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

Standing wordlessly at his desk, Morfield listened to the message his department head had left. A furious tirade that lasted a good few minutes before ending abruptly with a demand that the agent return his call. Somewhere in the angry spiel were hints that the department head was on her way back from a long-sought vacation as well along with a demand that the agent better have an excellent explanation.

Any less than that would result in disciplinary action against Morfield, something the other reminded him wouldn’t bode well considering the agent’s past.

“As if I need a fucking reminder.” Muttered Morfield as he tossed his phone onto the desk, and sunk into his chair. Across the small room a few of his coworkers glanced furtively over, talking amongst themselves. Their voices loud enough to make out that he was the topic. Him, his past, and his current fuck up.

Contrary to the impression he gave Thor and Dr. Strange, the only action S.H.I.E.L.D had decided on, and which his department had to acquiesce to, was surveilling Loki. No order for capture had been issued, and the attack on the Sanctum was certainly not approved. None of those in charge were ballsy enough to risk conflict against Thor and any Avenger who would side with him. Especially not when the only evidence for the Tesseract’s presence on earth was a single blip in the radar nine days ago.

It didn’t help that Strange and Thor’s denial that the mischief god had the artifact was taken at face value by Morfield’s department head. (Morfield had been banking on just the thunder god denying it, as then it’d have been easy to argue the god was biased since Loki was his brother. Strange backing up Thor threw a wrench in that argument. The wizard was considered by Morfield’s department and SHIELD to be the least biased of the Avengers regarding the mischief god.)

His colleagues still peeking at him and talking incessantly, Morfield slouched over his desk, and his head held in his hands. Rubbing his forehead in an attempt to assuage the headache spreading sharp pings of pain through him, he sat there listening to the rabble of his colleagues. A moment or so past just listening before he stood up and collected his phone and a few other things. Without a word he headed towards the door, ignoring his fellow agents curious glances.

“Oh! Morfield.” An agent muttered, having entered just as he was about to leave. “I was just coming to get you. SSA Argyle is adamant that you see her, and…”

“I know. I got her voicemail.” Morfield grumbled and started pushing past the other agent, muttering something along the lines of being on his way. Despite having zero inclination to comply with his boss’ demand.

“Oh. Then you can meet her at the Pendrick lab then. She mentioned she was going to meet with Dr. Pendrick first rather than heading straight here.” Blurted the other agent, to which Morfield grimaced and turned slightly pale. Seconds later he continued on his way, ignoring all the chatter and milling about among the agents from other departments.

‘Why would Argyle go to Pendrick?’ Morfield asked silently on his way out, and was unable to come up with an answer before he reached his vehicle. In consequence he started his engine while mentally grumbling, and drove from his parking spot semi-oblivious. ‘Erik better have a reason why he and his wizard buddy didn’t stick to the plan. It’d be so much simpler if they’d lured the bast....’

“Oi! What the hell?!” The agent swore, his eyes grown full and wide when a portal opened up in his backseat. The pale-gray orbs only grew wider when Mordo entered through it, and sat back calmly in the seat. “H...What are you doing here?! I…”

“Shush.” Mordo cut off the agent, their gazes meeting briefly in the rearview mirror. The wizard then muttered something not in English and waved his hand, his fingertips sparking with magic. It quickly tapered off and he lowered his hand. “That’ll take care of any eavesdropping.” He muttered before addressing Morfield. “If you’re heading to the laboratory - I suggest an indirect route. Or to just head home. You have at least two people tailing you.”

“T...that’s because you fucked up! Why didn’t you stick to the plan?!” The agent hollered, barely keeping his eyes set forward on the road. Mordo frowned at that, but instead of pressing the other man to watch the road, he did and prepared his magic just in case.

“I did. Until I couldn’t.” The wizard replied enigmatically, receiving a deeper glower from the agent. “...which of you had the epiphany to have a hitman sent with me and one of the lab’s Chimera? He’s the one that went off plan. I had to improvise.”

Morfield squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles paled. Through clenched teeth he spat. “Improvise?! You weren’t supposed to improvise unless you needed to flee! You certainly weren’t supposed to wreck the place! Or do whatever you did to the soldiers outside! You were supposed to go in and lure the god out, and portal him to the lab. What’s so difficult…”

Mordo bristled and used his magic to sharply brake the vehicle, causing the agent whiplash. Though he did magically shield the driver’s head from impacting the steering wheel. The agent swore loudly, and started sputtering angrily at the wizard. He stopped when a heavy object pounded onto the hood of his car, the sound causing him to jump and spin his head around to see the cause.

Mechanized arm buried into the sleek hood, Bucky Barnes glared through the windshield at the two men inside. Every crease and line of his face was etched with anger, chilling Morfield whose brain took a moment or so to place the other man. Once his brain fog cleared he gulped, all feeling leaving his limbs, his fear chilling him so badly.

“Which one of you motherfuckers has Steve?” Bucky growled and lifted his arm from the hood, his sharp leer locking first on Morfield then on Mordo.

~0~

“What the….” Roger’s eyes widened, his mouth agape in horror and shock.

Having expected to be the one teleported, he stood stock still as the other soldier vanished instead. The other soldier, whose name he’d never asked, was most certainly underpowered against the enemy Fen called Thanos. An enemy that had, if Lokki was to be believed, killed all the Avengers of her universe. Yet the android had teleported the other soldier.

“Why the hell did you send him?!?!” Rogers rounded on Fen, grabbing for the android’s hands in order to stop the AI machine putting the phase-cloak back up. Overwhelmed and furious, he hardly cared or noticed the swear word that passed his lips. “I’m the...you...you just sent that man to his likely death! I…”

“Yes. The odds are against that man’s survival. But even if I sent you instead, it would still be the same risk.” Fen countered, its orange-ochre eyes boring into Rogers. “Besides, had I sent you and Lokki discovered that fact…it wouldn’t matter whether you escaped unharmed or not, or even if it was necessary, she would destroy me.” The android trailed off, while Rogers gave Fen a peculiar look. One that the android deciphered easily. “I may not be alive or sentient in a traditional sense, but I would rather avoid dismantlement of any kind. It would be a bugger putting myself back together.”

“Couldn’t you…” Rogers started to reply, about to say something along the lines of just getting Stark or someone to help in that scenario, but bit his tongue. Partly because it was a callous remark. Mostly though because he remembered what universe he was in. Lokki’s universe. The Avengers were all dead here. Himself, Stark, Banner, Natasha...each of them had been killed according to the mischief goddess. Rogers glanced over at Fen, his forehead and brow creased. After a moment he shook his head, while the android finished inputting the commands to raise the shield-cloak around the ship. “Still, you should’ve sent me. If the enemy in that ship is highly dangerous, I...”

“Grrrh.” A low growl interrupted the Avenger, and Rogers tensed and turned towards where the sound came from. His cheeks paled when the bear from the library sauntered forward, eyeing him with the intensity of a predator. Its growling continued until it reached the Avenger and the android, once there the bear sat down and peered unblinkingly at the two. “Rawgrrhhh.”

“Now is not the time, Nar.” Fen spoke to the bear who lifted its head, exposing its neck and the speckled band wrapped around it, a crystalline bauble dangling from the band. A misty green decahedron, the bauble drew Rogers’ attention, not least because the bear - Nar - was making every effort to show it off. “No.” Fen grabbed and pulled back Rogers’ arm when the Avenger reached for the band. “Not now.”

“Ggrawhgrrr.” Nar growled at Fen, voicing its displeasure at the android using noises that were unintelligible to Rogers, but which the android understood. “Rawrgrrhh! Grrrr Garggh, hrrr..”

“It is too...things are not as expected.” The android replied, still holding the Avenger’s arm and glancing at him in between every few words. Actions that ticked Rogers who was reaching the end of his patience. Between the attack on the Sanctum and not knowing what happened there, and being unable to prevent Fen sending the other soldier into danger rather than him, Rogers was more than annoyed.

Too annoyed to endure the half unintelligible argument going on between the android and the bear. He ripped his arm out from Fen’s grip, and backed up a few steps, tensing when the android moved to grab him again. An attempt he evaded by backing up further, placing a handful of feet between him at the two.

“Look, whatever that is...whatever secrets…” Rogers grimaced and started to reach for his shield when Fen appeared to approach. The android quickly thought better of it and just situated itself to prevent Nar from walking to the Avenger. “All I want is to make sure the soldiers who were transported here from my universe are safe and get them home.”

“See?” Fen turned to Nar. “She didn’t send him. And it wasn’t a time rift. He speaks of his ‘universe’ not his ‘time.’”

“Hhhrrrr.” Nar grumbled, shifting his attention to Rogers and scrutinizing him closely. The band and bauble once more hidden beneath its fur. “Hawgrr...urrrhh. Hraaan, ghrr.”

“I know.” The android scowled, grumbling. “He used a com from his universe.” Fen paused, listening to the bear’s growl-speak and nodding along, no longer defensive against Nar. The two of them instead seemed annoyed at Rogers now, and the Avenger suddenly felt exposed. Guilty. It hadn’t been too difficult to understand the conversation based on Fen’s replies, and the looks the two flashed at him cinched it.

The two were talking about the void-black ship and how it had tracked them, using the signal from Rogers’ com. The Avenger pulled a face and opened his mouth to explain himself, when a shockwave ripped through the ship and nearly knocked him off his feet.

“What…” Rogers’ throat went dry when he noticed the black-void that was the arboretum windows, all the stars having vanished. Disappeared into a black nothingness. Even as he observed it as such, he understood that wasn’t what happened. The stars hadn’t gone anywhere - rather the other ship with its dark exterior had pulled up and stopped just outside the arboretum.

~0~

“Which one of you motherfuckers has Steve?” Bucky growled and lifted his arm from the hood, his sharp leer locking first on Morfield then on Mordo. When neither answered he repeated his question and brought his mechanized arm down again, smashing the engine hood even further. The man in the driver seat jumped at the action while the back seat passenger hardly flinched, drawing Bucky’s attention.

Since receiving news about his friend’s disappearance via Stark, the billionaire having contacted him after failing to track Rogers through the com device the inventor had given, Bucky had sought after his friend. And though the billionaire hadn’t given much information to him about what Rogers had been doing before vanishing, Bucky assumed it was about the Statue. That’s what it’d been about that morning.

Thus, he had headed to SHIELD’s offices, ready to stake out or storm them, whichever was needed, for news of his friend. Before he could decide on either - his choice heavily leaning towards the latter one - Barton had intercepted him. The retired Avenger had also been contacted by Stark and by Natasha, the woman much more informative than the billionaire. It was from Barton that Bucky learned that an offshoot of SHIELD was involved and that one of its agents should have information. An agent Morfield.

“Well?” Bucky growled, removing his arm again from the hood and instead maneuvered forward and grabbed the driver’s side door. Wrenching it open, he glowered at the driver, ready to pull the agent out if the man so much as thought about pressing the accelerator. “Where’s Steve?”

“I...I don’t…” Morfield stared up at the Winter Soldier, his heart thumping loudly against his ribcage and his gray eyes filling with fear. Trepidation.

Noticing the look, Bucky bristled, mixed feelings running through him. For the past few years, as he adjusted from being the Winter Soldier to being himself again, he’d encountered people who knew him only as the brainwashed puppet of Hydra. Each one had given that identical look. And each time it brought up the same torrent of emotions in him. Impossible to describe and a torture to feel. Steve Rogers had helped him through it each occasion, and it’d been over a year since the last time he encountered such a look.

“Hey.” Came Barton’s voice through the earbud com-speaker the ex-Avenger had given him before they started their stakeout. The sound drew Bucky away from the tumultuous emotions brewing up from Morfield’s fearful stare. “Stay sharp. His friend is up to something.”

“I know, I’m not...” Bucky started to snap back at Barton, irritated but also glad for the interruption from his guilt-ridden thoughts. His words faltered once he turned his gaze to the backseat passenger or rather to the now empty backseat. Mordo had taken advantage of the momentary hiccup of Bucky’s attention to portal away, leaving Morfield to face the Winter Soldier alone. “Mother fucker.” Bucky muttered, scowling at the empty seat before turning his attention back to the agent.

“I…” Morfield swallowed, shaking as Bucky pulled him from the vehicle although the fear in his gray eyes had lessened. Replaced instead by a wary caution, something that took the Winter Soldier a while to notice. Once he did, a crease formed on Bucky’s forehead and on the swathe of skin above the sellion of his nose.

‘That’s a first…’ Thought Bucky, confused by the change in the agent’s demeanor. The fear in the other man’s eyes - he had expected it to remain strong, not to lessen, especially not without any effort on his part to assuage it. It was…Eyes widening suddenly and darting over the agent’s face, Bucky bristled. Anger rushed through him as snippets of memory flashed across his thoughts. Snippets that included a man identical to the agent, a man who had helped Hydra experiment on him. “You...you’re one of….”

“Hey. We should make our way back.” Barton interrupted, stepping up next to Bucky. Having been watching from a distance, the retired Avenger had noticed the shift in the other man and had approached, his instincts screeching at him. Shouting even louder in his head when he heard Bucky growl that the agent was Hydra, one of the ones that had infiltrated SHIELD in the past. Barton tensed, eyeing Morfield closely after Bucky’s revelation. “...We’ll question him back at the tower.”

“...Fine.” Responded Bucky after a moment or two of thought, his mechanized hand clasped tightly as a vise around the agent’s arm.

#marvel #marvel mcu #marvel fanfiction #the avengers #loki #fanfiction #loki (marvel) #thor #bucky barnes #stephen strange #tony stark #oc #female loki #canon divergence #alternate universe #parallel universe

[freckled-words]

Repost: Delightful Spite

This was a request piece I wrote last year, I think, I have no memory of who requested it, but its for everyone to enjoy regardless.

Just a heads up: this is a reader insert with “she/her” identifiers.

Edited by @the-wild-ego​

Mare was the friend a girl could count on to have her back. 

Bad break up? Here’s a variety of alcohol and ice cream, plus, “Do I need to go pay him a visit?”

Working late and don’t feel comfortable walking home? He’ll show up in front of your work, decked out in the most punk-ass outfit he could put together. If anyone ever thought to give you a hard time outside of the store, they’d think twice.

When it came to being your matchmaker/wingman, he really needed to give it a rest.

So far he had tried to set you up with an unbalanced doctor, an over eager showman, and a robot clone of himself. 

When he approached you about another friend, you shut him down immediately.

“Mare, I love you, and I trust you with my imaginary children, but I’m never letting you set me up again.” You said this without breaking your focus on the TV screen. You’d been bored and had started in on an all day Mario Kart endeavor. You were neck-and-neck with Yoshi, with Baby Bowser riding on your ass. 

Mare sat next to you on the couch, his eager smile still in place with the offer he came in with, “So they weren’t your type, but this guy, I promise, will be your perfect match. For example, it took me weeks to get him to agree to go on a date.”

“Fuck you, Yoshi!”

“He’s got a twisted humour, just like you.”

“Take that red shell and shove it up your ass!”

“He’s not too bad looking, even has a bit of an edgy thing going for him. You like edgy right?”

You smiled in satisfaction and relaxed as you crossed the finish line in first place. Finally facing Mare, who’d dropped his smile, you told him point blank, “If it took you weeks to convince the guy, then I’ll one-up and make you work at it for a month.”

This decided, you got off the couch to get a drink. 

Mare followed after you and leaned against the door frame as you went digging in the fridge, “I promise to never try and set you up again if this guy falls flat.”

A bottle of water in hand you rebuffed, “That’s what you said with the last guy.”

“How was I supposed to know an android could be embarrassed enough to shut himself down?!” Mare had genuinely thought Mal would have been a good match. They were different enough from each other, that it would have been like she was dating his twin brother. 

You went back to the living room and took up your controller, “Mal was too innocent for me, and you knew it. Now you either pick up the other controller, or you entertain yourself some other way. We’re done talking about this.”

Mare pursed his lips in thought, looking at the controller you offered he got an idea, “I’ll play you for it.”

“Play me for what?” You narrowed your eyes, seeing the familiar smug twitch to his lips.

He sat on the couch and grabbed the second Switch controller, “If I win, you go on this date. You win, and I’ll never try setting you up again. Deal?”

This was an interesting gamble. So far Mare was tied with you on wins. You were both super competitive, and wouldn’t refrain from physically blocking each other to win. 

On the one hand, the worst event was going on this date and suffering another awkward experience. On the other, Mare would stop trying. 

“Very well, you have a deal. If you cheat, I win by default, got it?” 

Mare repositioned himself into, what you called, his 'serious gamer pose’. His eyes already on the screen, he nodded, “Deal.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh stop pouting already, I won fair and square.” Mare chided from the driver’s seat.

You were pouting. You hadn’t stopped pouting since he’d beaten you two days ago. 

“I still think you cheated without me noticing.” You grumbled back.

Mare rolled his eyes, “Whatever, just don’t be pouting through your date. You don’t want him to think your bad mood is his fault. Besides, you shouldn’t be pouting when you’re all dressed up.”

He had a point there. You were dressed in your favorite black dress that stopped at your knees, the skirt was loose and flowy with red roses along the hem. The top half clung to you in a way that was flattering, with a sweetheart neckline, and off the shoulder straps. For a bit of comfort, instead of appeal, you chose to wear your nice, new, black combat boots. You’d drawn roses on the side with a metallic, red sharpie. 

To finish it off you’d applied ruby, red lip gloss; a dusting of shimmer, pink eyeshadow; and a flawless application of eyeliner. 

You labelled the look, ‘Badass Beautiful’.

“We’ll just make fun of you instead.” You finally quipped back.

You’d decided from the start, that regardless of the guy, you were going to hold a grain of salt against him the entire night. Petty as it was, you couldn’t convince yourself otherwise.

The car came to a stop outside your favorite restaurant, The Spaghetti Factory. Your stomach growled in anticipation of their three cheese and mushroom ravioli. 

Mare gestured towards the building, “He’ll be in there already, the reservation is under my name.”

You opened the car door and a strong wave of garlic bread hit you. Your stomach gave another ravenous growl. You hopped out of the car and gave Mare one more pout, “If he ruins my ravioli, I will make you pay.” This warning given, you slammed the door.

Mare immediately took off, giving you no chance to change your mind.

Holding onto your purse strap a bit tighter, you went inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were in trouble.

Your entire plan was going down the drain. 

Your petty inner self was seething that Mare was winning.

Antisepticeye, the guy you’d been set up with, was just your type.

Dressed in black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black blazer, he was a perfect match to your outfit. On top of that, his hair was green. With your own hair being dyed a vibrant red, the two of you must look like gothic Christmas enthusiasts. 

Until you reached the table, he’d been resting his elbow on it with a surrely pout. Once his sight fell on you, his eyebrow had raised and a spark of something had lit up in his eyes. 

You’d awkwardly gotten through introductions, leading into the amusing subject of Mare forcing this arrangement. 

“That arse tried setting me up with another chick a couple months back. I wanted to stab myself before we even placed our orders.” Anti groaned, his fingers twitching towards the butter knife on the table.

You giggled, leaning forward to eagerly share, “She couldn’t have been as bad as the doctor he put me with. He kept calling the waiters ‘NURSE!’ It was ridiculous. I didn’t talk to Mare for a week I was so embarrassed.” 

Anti looked incredulous, “I know that guy, what the fuck was Mare thinkin’?!”

“Thank you!” 

The waiter came over then, and you were pleased when Anti ordered the same thing as you after you recommended it.

A complimentary basket of fresh made garlic bread rolls were left on your table. You loved these rolls, especially when they were still warm, which these were.

Anti watched you expertly rip the roll down the middle and apply butter. 

Half of your roll in your mouth, you watched amused as he tried to copy your trick. 

The roll turned into a deformed mess in his hands. 

His eye twitched, a sign of his annoyance. 

Before you could offer to show him the trick, he shoved the bread lump into his mouth. As he chewed, he grabbed another roll. Instead of trying your trick again, he showed you one of his own.

In awe, you watched him take out a pocket blade, stab it into the very edge of the roll and into the table, and yank on the roll. It sliced down the middle, leaving the edges neat and clean. He withdrew his blade and put it back in his pocket, giving you a wink as he smoothed out the table cloth to cover the new hole he’d made. 

You bit your bottom lip, glancing around to check if anyone saw this happen. Seeing that you were in the clear, you snickered, “Oh my god, you can’t just whip out a knife! If you’d started a panic, I wouldn’t get my ravioli.” You tried to end on a pout, but his smirk made it impossible to hold.

After that little knife trick, you started asking him about his interests and what else he could do with it. 

That lead into him asking about your interests, and then back to him.

The conversation kept going right up until the ravioli was served. At which point, you were both too engrossed with your pasta to keep long sentences going.

You were nearly finished eating, and debating on dessert, when you felt your phone go off. 

Looking at the screen you rolled your eyes, which Anti noticed.

“Bet you the last roll I know who that is.”

“Help yourself, but only if you promise to go along with my story.” You smiled as you said this, your thumbs already at work typing out your lie to Mare.

Anti didn’t take the bread roll, instead choosing to lean forward and try to read your screen. You finished the text and showed Anti.

Mare: How’s it going? You staying for dessert?  ;) 

You: Yes I’m staying for dessert. Only because their apple crumble is amazing. It’ll also make me feel better after this new crap experience. You will never play matchmaker for me again. 

Anti was grinning by the time he finished reading. He then broke into laughter when he pulled out his phone. He turned the screen towards you and you were right beside him in a fit of giggles.

Mare: Dude, what did you do?! 

Anti: Whipped my knife out and offered to butter her roll.

The dirty implications were not lost on you, which only made it that much funnier. 

You nearly had tears streaming down your face as you calmed yourself when the waiter came over.

“We’ll get an apple crumble to split please.” before this, Anti had agreed it sounded good.

Anti coughed trying to keep his laughter in check, “Two coffees, too.”

You hadn’t thought to include coffee, and it did sound like a good addition. Especially since this new game would be going on for a while, judging by the frantic texts you were getting from Mare in apology.

Once the waiter left, you managed to ask through more giggles, “H-how long do you think we can keep this up?”

Anti shrugged, grinning still to the string of cursing text messages Mare was sending him, “Until he catches on?”

“Well I don’t intend to tell him anytime soon.” 

Anti’s smirk was all teeth and delighted interest, “Thatta girl.”

#Delight Spite #repost #fanfiction #reader insert #Antisepticeye #NateMare

[vortexofentertainment]

How about a spider Beca bechloe fic?

This was SUPER fun to write! Thank you for the prompt :)

———

“I’m a little…” Beca spun and kicked the masked man in the chest. “…busy right now…” She grabbed one of the other men by the wrist and swung him around with all her might. “…Stacie.” The man collided with two others, sending them tumbling to the ground.

“I’m aware of that, but I just need to know if you can get some milk on your way home,” Stacie said. Sometimes Beca got really tired of her best friend always being in her ear. It wasn’t exactly ideal during these types of situations.

“Fine, yes, whatever,” Beca answered. 

She jumped, extended her arms, and shot her web to pull herself up just in time to avoid a trashcan hurtling towards her. 

“Now, tell me where the control room is.” 

She caught the trashcan with her webs before it hit the ground and tossed it back at the unexpected attacker. It smacked him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

Beca fell back to the floor, landing in a low squat with one hand on the ground. 

“It’s in the basement. Once you step out of the elevator shaft, it’ll be the third door to your right,” Stacie told her. “What about almond milk?”

“No fucking way,” Beca replied. 

“Oh, come on, Beca,” Stacie protested. “You’ve never even tried it.”

“I would like to keep it that way, thank you very much. There is nothing wrong with regular milk.” 

“Tell that to the cows,” Stacie mumbled. 

Beca ignored her best friend and jogged to the elevators. She really, really hated that she was ‘SpiderWoman’ as the media dubbed her. Before she became this ‘hero’, she was rarely physically active. It just wasn’t up her alley. Cardio was never high on her ‘to do’ list. 

She hit the button to the elevator, but nothing happened. She rolled her eyes and jammed it five or six more times. 

“Did you really think that was going to work?”

“A girl can dream.” Beca mumbled. She took a deep breath and shook her arms out beside her. “Here we go.”

She placed her fingers between the doors of the elevator and pulled as hard as she could. The door opened just enough for her to wedge her foot in the crack. She held it open there while she took a breath.

“Stace, do you think you could maybe modify a crowbar in the suit somehow?”

“Or you could just start going to the gym with me like I’ve been asking you to and maybe this wouldn’t be such a challenge.”

“Fuck off,” Beca grunted as she started to pull again. 

She managed to wedge her body through the door and into the elevator shaft. She jumped, sticking to the opposite wall as the doors slammed shut again.

“Ha! See? I’m strong.”

“No, you’re just tiny,” Stacie shot back. 

Beca started to crawl down the wall. It was still surreal that she could do something like this. 

“Do you have eyes in the control room?” 

“Yes, the idiots didn’t turn off the security cameras,” Stacie answered. Beca could practically hear her roll her eyes. “Looks like they have three hostages. Three girls. Two blondes and a redhead.” 

“Wait, a redhead?” Beca asked, flashing back to the reporter that had bugged the shit out of her after one of her saves last week, and multiple other missions before that. 

Beca just wanted to leave after taking down the scientist that thought he could turn your everyday appliances into androids. Turns out he just ended up making a lot of explosives. But the reported grabbed her after she had managed to wrap one of the explosives enough to muffle the blow. It wasn’t her hardest mission, but maybe one of the most annoying.

When she got the call from Stacie, she was listening to a popular DJ at a very exclusive club. She tried to weasel her way out of it, as she did with many of her missions, but as always she failed to do so. The better part of her won and she always ended up pulling on that stupid mask and risking her life for people that wouldn’t give her a second look without her SpiderWoman get up. 

The reporter, though inconvenient and pushy, seemed genuinely interested. She had asked personal questions. Well, besides the usual “Who are you?” She wanted to know why Beca did what she did, what it took to do so, and how it affected her everyday life. 

“The very same one,” Stacie answered. “Are you going to get her number this time?”

“Why would I do that?” Beca asked as she perched outside of the next set of doors she had to force her way through. 

She remembered mentioning, without realizing, that the redhead was cute. Anyone with eyes could see that. Her blue eyes were so beautiful and mesmerizing that Beca found herself literally dreaming about them looking back at her. The reporter had definitely caught Beca’s eye.

She shook her head slightly and tried to focus. She grabbed the doors once more and pulled.

“Because you have a crush on her,” Stacie pointed out. 

“Can we talk about this…” Beca grunted as she wedged herself between the small opening she had created. She turned quickly, pressing her back against one door as she put her feet up on the other. “…when I’m not about to be crushed?” 

“Okay, that’s fair, but don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

Beca straightened her body with all her might, causing the doors to open all the way this time. She relaxed a bit and fell to the ground with a thug.

“Got it,” she exhaled as she pushed herself up. “Second door to the right?”

“Third. Do you ever listen?”

Beca didn’t respond. She looked around to make sure there weren’t any more guards waiting for her. 

She noticed only two outside the door. Both were sitting in chairs, heads tilted to the side, clearly asleep. 

“These guys are truly idiots, aren’t they?” Beca whispered as she jumped and shot her webs towards the ceiling. 

“They’re not the brightest.”

She crawled slowly and quietly towards the still asleep guards. Once she was positioned over them, she shot her webs down to encircle the one on the right. She pulled up, making the man fly out of his chair. She stuck him to the ceiling, shooting another web over his mouth before he could even scream. 

She put a finger over her lips to signal for him to be quiet as she did the same to the other guy. Now, they were both struggling against her trap to no avail, shouting curses that were muffled by the web. 

“How many guys are inside?” she asked Stacie as crawled down onto the wall until she was perched just above the door.

“Four,” Stacie answered. “They’re all armed.”

“Great,” Beca mumbled. “Is there another way in?” 

“Afraid the front door is your only option, captain.” 

Beca took a deep breath. She really hated the fact that the reporter, or the other two hostages, could easily be hurt in all of this.

“Where exactly are the civilians?”

“Is that what we’re calling her now?”

“Stacie,” Beca warned. 

“They’re in the back left corner,” Stacie told her. “Looks like red is up to something, so you might want to hurry.”

“Fucking red,” Beca mumbled as she reached down and knocked on the door. 

She heard Stacie laugh. “You should see their faces right now! Oh my god, they’re so confused.”

Beca reached down and knocked again.

Finally, the door creaked open. She watched one of the masked men poked his head out and then stepped outside of the room to see who had knocked. He looked down the empty hallway.

Beca did a high then low whistle to get his attention. He slowly looked up. Beca loved the terrified look some of the bad guys gave her.

“Hi there,” she said before pouncing fist first towards his face. 

She felt the impact that more than likely broke his jaw as he fell to the ground unconscious. She shot webs out of each wrist back towards the ceiling to swing herself into the room. She extended both legs to kick two of the other guards in the chest and back into the control panel. Sparks flew everywhere. Beca couldn’t imagine the shock those two had just received. 

“Don’t move!” the fourth and last guy yelled as Beca landed in a crouch. 

The man was holding the reporter by the arm with a gun to her head. She looked terrified. Those blue orbs that Beca dreamed about were looking to her for any kind of help. 

Beca slowly stood, holding both hands up in surrender. 

“You don’t want to do that, big guy,” Beca said as she shifted her weight slowly. 

“Beca, I don’t think the gun is even loaded,” Stacie said quietly in her ear. “He was about to reload it when you knocked. There might be one in the chamber, though.”

Beca kept her stare glued onto the girl’s eyes. She tried to stay calm, but those eyes had her heart racing. She couldn’t mess this up. 

“If you take one step I will blow her brains out,” the man growled at Beca. 

“You have my word. Not another step,” she said smoothly. 

She shifted her gaze to the man. She watched as he looked around and then down at the other two hostages. 

Before she had time to second guess herself, she flung her wrist forward. One web wrapped around the gun and the other clung onto the man’s face.

She yanked the gun away from the man and into her own clutches as he stumbled back.

The reporter turned quickly once he released her and landed a knockout blow to the guy’s nose. He doubled forward in pain. Beca watched as the report brought her knee up, hard, connecting to the man’s face once again. 

The force brought his feet off the ground. Beca took the chance to shoot more of her webs towards him. They wrapped around his feet and she flung him across the room. He hit the other wall with so much force that it dented in as he crumbled to the ground.

“Nice,” Stacie chuckled. “I’ve notified the police that the problem is handled.”

“The building is clear,” Beca said to the women. She dropped the gun to the ground. “It’s safe to leave. The police are outside sweeping the area. The elevator is broken though. You’ll have to use the steps.”

The two girls still on the floor got up and ran out. 

Beca looked back at the redhead who hadn’t moved.

“I don’t think I caught your name last time,” she said.

The girl smirked and arched an eyebrow. “Chloe.”

“Well, Chloe, you seem to find yourself in the midst of a lot of trouble.”

“You’re one to talk,” Chloe answered as she took a step closer to Beca.

“Touché,” Beca smirked, even though Chloe couldn’t see it. She was still moving closer. 

“Ask her for coffee, you baffoon,” Stacie hissed.

Beca hesitated. There was definitely an… attraction to the reporter. She wasn’t sure, however, that it was safe to reveal her true identity. No matter how magnetic the girl’s smile was. 

“I have a theory,” the redhead said as she finally stopped moving towards Beca. They were just a couple of steps apart now.

“About?”

“Who you really are.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Chloe took a half step closer. “See, I was at this club last week with a friend from college.”

Beca’s heart plummeted. 

“And I had my eye on this cute brunette that was just really enjoying the music.” Chloe took another half step closer. The crooked grin on her face set Beca’s cheeks on fire beneath her mask. “She was wearing a leather vest over a grey t-shirt and these really tight skinny jeans. I was just about to make my move on her when she got a phone call.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Beca managed to get out. The crack in her voice definitely gave her away.

“Real smooth,” Stacie mumbled.  

“About ten minutes after she left, I got a call to go and cover a story about you. Remember that?”

“The explosive dude that was just a really bad scientist.”

“That’s the one. But, I noticed something.” Chloe reached up and captured Beca’s chin between her pointer finger and thumb. “One, your voice is very similar, and two, when you left the scene last week I heard you humming the same song that was playing when you got the call at the club.”

Beca was frozen. Every part of her was itching to reach out and grab Chloe. Her fingers twitched by her side.

“That’s a… um… interesting theory,” Beca struggled to say. 

“I’m very rarely wrong. It’s kind of what I do for a living,” Chloe told her as she released Beca’s chin. “So, am I right?”

“Off the record?” Beca asked as she searched those blue orbs. She didn’t want to fall prey to just another hungry reporter desperate for a story.

“Completely off the record,” Chloe answered with a nod. 

“Why don’t you show up at the coffee shop tomorrow at noon to find out?” Beca asked. “The one by campus,” she specified as she backed out of the room. 

“It’s a date!” she heard Chloe yell after her as she sprinted down the hallway and back into the empty elevator shaft. 

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #spider beca #bechloe fanfic #Pitch Perfect

[rhinozilla]

Whumptober Day 6: Dragged Away

Summary: Connor gets dragged behind a truck by fleeing suspects. Thanks to Officers Person and Wilson, they don’t get far.

--

For a full second, it looked like the two suspected android murderers were going to use Connor as a shield, hauling him with them toward the old pick up truck, keeping him firmly between them and where Officers Person and Wilson were in pursuit. The gunfire had scattered all of the civilians, sending them to seek cover inside the buildings off the street.

Wilson had already called for backup just as the two perps had managed to overpower Connor. Wilson hadn’t seen any LEDs, but he’d also never seen anybody get the drop on Connor like that that HADN’T been an android. The blow to the head had knocked Connor down and left him dazed enough to not be able to defend himself.

“FUCKING PLASTIC!” one of them jeered.

The full second passed, and Wilson saw the chains.

“Fuck.” Person saw them too.

The fleeing suspects dropped three loops of the chain around Connor’s neck, letting the sudden weight ruin the android’s already-compromised balance, sending him to his knees. One of the men vaulted into the bed of the truck, while the other leapt into the open driver’s side door. He gunned the engine, and the tires spat dust as the truck launched forward. The short length of chain not wrapped around Connor’s neck lifted up into the air as the other end of it led up to the ball hitch on the back of the truck.

Connor only had time to lift his head, finally get his bearings, and make eye contact with Wilson before the chain went taut. It was a split second in time that Wilson knew would haunt him.

Then Connor was being yanked backwards by the neck, dragged away behind the truck as the two men tried to flee…Tried to flee and murder another android while they were at it.

“Stop!” Wilson screamed anyway, still chasing after the truck.

Person abruptly stopped running, drawing her weapon. “Wilson, out of the way!”

Wilson glanced back at her and then skidded to a stop, jumping far out of her line of fire. Person planted her feet, raised both arms, and aimed at the truck.

“Wait—You could hit Connor,” he warned.

Without moving, without breathing, Person stared down the sights of her gun. “I won’t.”

Pop.

The bullet found its home in the bald rubber of the truck’s front tire. The tire blew, and the metal rim was instantly spinning sparks as it ran directly into the pavement. The truck lurched to the side, off kilter, and the driver fought to compensate. The chain attaching Connor to the truck swung as a result, sending Connor bouncing more into the middle of the road. It looked like the driver was going to manage to keep going—

Pop.

Person’s second bullet took out the back tire farthest from Connor, causing it to spin toward the curb. The truck bucked out of control before hitting a thick light post on the street corner head on. The front of the old truck formed an accordion shape as it came to an abrupt stop.

Person holstered her gun, and she and Wilson resumed running toward the scene.

“You got Connor,” Person instructed sharply. “These two are mine.”

“Person—“ Wilson warned.

“I got it!” she snapped.

Wilson didn’t spare any further attention on her as she approached the cab of the truck. Instead, he hurried over to where Connor wasn’t moving. Reaching him, Wilson quickly got down on his knees and noted the cycling red of Connor’s LED. Blue blood was staining through his pant legs and the back of his jacket where he’d been dragged across the concrete, and the synthetic skin had failed around his throat and the side of his face where the loops of chain had gone tight.

“Jesus,” he wheezed, working enough slack into the chain to carefully lift them up and away from the android’s neck.

He threw the blue slicked chains aside, and Connor started choking as his airway was opened up again. It was an awful sound, full of damaged circuitry misfiring and air rattling through a partially collapsed throat. Some thirium dribbled past his lips as he struggled to breathe. His eyes were half open but full of pain as he blinked rapidly up at him.

“Wil—Wils—Wilson—“ he wheezed.

“Shh, shh,” Wilson shushed him, glancing down the length of his body and back up, taking in the extent of the damage. “Oh my God…” He met Connor’s eyes again and composed himself. “Hey, man. We’re taking care of this. You don’t worry about anything, okay? You just keep breathing like you’re doing—We’ll take care of everything else. Try to relax, man.”

Connor coughed again, thirium coming up in a foam and painting his teeth pale blue. He was choking on his own blood. Wilson cursed and slid a hand up under Connor’s neck, feeling the base of his skull and tracing the hard line of the android’s spinal structure. He went as far down Connor’s back as he could reach, feeling no breaks or bulging discs that suggested spinal damage. Fuck, even if he had, he couldn’t NOT move him. He was choking—

“Shit,” Wilson hissed through clenched teeth. “Sorry.”

As gently as he could manage, he rolled Connor from his back onto his side, turning his head so that the blood could drain out of his mouth. He coughed again, managing to suck in a ragged gasp of air. Wilson put a hand on his back, holding him steady.

“There we go. Just like that. You’re doing great.”

He waited for Connor to manage three breaths before carefully situating him fully into the recovery position. He shrugged out of his jacket and hastily folded it up. Connor spat out a final mouthful of thirium, and Wilson gingerly lifted his head, sliding the jacket underneath so that his head wasn’t lying directly on the hard ground.

That done, he kept his hands on Connor’s back and wrapped around one of his arms for support, and he finally looked over at the front of the vehicle. Person had secured both men back to back, handcuffed to each other with the light pole between them, locking them in place. One had a bloody red nose from hitting the steering wheel on impact. The other had a hard knot already bruising on his forehead, presumably from the impact as well. They were both squirming and swearing, and Person was a pillar of pure rage as she called in the incident on the radio attached to her shoulder.

Wilson breathed a sigh of relief and jerked his head to get her to come over.

“Connor?” Person knelt on his other side, putting herself in his line of sight. “Hey, don’t try to speak. Just squeeze my hand if you hear me.”

She slipped her hand into his open palm, and Wilson saw his fingers close in a weak squeeze. Person assembled a smile for him, touching her hand briefly to the top of his head.

“Good, that’s good. Help is on the way.” She started to shrug out of her own jacket as well.

“I don’t want to move him,” Wilson stated. “I had to roll him…He was choking, but…without knowing the full extent of the damage—“

“Good call,” Person assured swiftly.

Between them, Connor’s face pinched, and he shut his eyes, falling into an irregular breathing pattern. Person leaned in closer to him, keeping her hand in his.

“Hey, hey, hey, quit that,” she said lowly. “You’re gonna be fine. Breathe. Watch me? Breathe.”

She drew an exaggerated breath, holding it until he raggedly mimicked her. Then she released it slowly, pausing until he did the same. She repeated the process with him until the tension in his frame started to relax slightly, and without moving her eyes from him, she held her jacket toward Wilson.

“He’s gonna go into shock before medics get here. It’s…It’s like human shock but slightly different…Does the same thing though. We need to keep him warm,” she rattled off in a truncated tone.

“Right.” Wilson pulled the jacket out of its wadded up shape.

He draped the material over Connor’s top half, tucking it loosely around him. Person remained very close to him, nearly doubled over herself as she stayed in his field of vision, holding his hand and speaking very softly to him. It was a weird look on her, since Wilson had only ever seen the other officer as standoffish and curt to the point of rude toward her co-workers.

Connor just brought out this side of people, it seemed.

The sound of sirens echoed in the closing distance, and they all visibly breathed easier.

“Pigs!” one of the perps spat.

Person lifted narrow eyes toward the two men, but Wilson raised a hand, shifting up from both knees into a kneel.

“Stay with him. I’ll keep an eye on those two idiots.”

“You better…because if I go over there…” She let the statement hang, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Connor.

Wilson nodded and stood up, stepping away to go shut up the two assholes while they waited for help to arrive.

#whumptober2019 #no.6 #dbh connor #dbh officer person #dbh officer wilson

[dyslexicsquirrel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Darcy Lewis, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan Additional Tags: Romantic Fluff, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, technically I guess, Steve is an oblivious dumpling, Darcy Lewis Is a Good Bro Summary:“I left my wallet in my other suit,” the man in line in front of him said, patting down his pockets like it would mysteriously appear if he kept checking enough.

I wrote more fluff while I should be sleeping. Someone TAKE AWAY MY

PHONE. Except don’t cause I needs it. 

Stony bingo prompt fill (square N2) 

Prompt: “Left my wallet in my other suit.”

Read here 👇🏻 or on AO3 👆🏻 

“I left my wallet in my other suit,” the man in line in front of him said, patting down his pockets like it would mysteriously appear if he kept checking enough.

Steve hadn’t ever seen him in the coffee shop before and he came here every morning like clockwork after his run. He worked from home so he made his own hours and, yeah, he could make coffee at home,  it this place had the best muffins in Manhattan and the baristas always had his order waiting at the counter when he got up there no matter how long the line was. He could see his cup sitting there, next to the register Darcy wasn’t using. She caught his and shrugged.

Steve didn’t mind waiting, the guy just looked so embarrassed for having forgotten his wallet, and that was why he found himself stepping next to him and telling Darcy, “ring his up with mine.” It wasn’t because the man was gorgeous and wore a suit like he was born in it.

“Sure thing, Steve-o,” she said with her trademark exuberance. She slid the paper bag with his muffin in it and his latter over and rang up the man’s triple shot.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Steve said, giving him a smile and trying not to be flirty. Should he be flirty? Maybe he should be flirty. He wished he were wearing something else other than a sweaty t-shirt and a pair of sweats. “I’m considering it my good act for the day.”

“I’ll consider you my knight in shining,” he paused, giving Steve a once over that was anything but casual. When those gorgeous brown eyes of his met Steve’s again they were crinkling at the edges from the smile that played on his lips. Something about that smile and the very distinctive facial hair sparked recognition, but the feeling was half formed. “Athlesiure,” he finished, looking amused and interested. In Steve.

Steve hadn’t been on a date since his last relationship ended. He hadn’t even thought about flirting with anyone, not wanting to get sucked into some rebound, but risking a rebound, one-night stand would be worth it for this man.

Feeling the blush on his cheeks, Steve turned away to scan the Apple pay on his phone. Steve picked up his latte and his muffin and Handsome Interested Stranger grabbed his cup and put his other hand in the pocket of his obviously expensive suit.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmured, casting a glance at the impatient people standing behind them. With a half smile that was hard to decipher, the other man said, “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” raised his to-go cup in a like he was giving a toast, and left.

Steve stepped to the side so the woman talking into a bluetooth headset could give her order to Darcy. He gave her a nod and went home, feeling disappointed.

*

The next morning, Steve went out for his run in Central Park, earbuds in, dodging pedestrians and other people out for a morning walk or jog. He ran tracked his distance on his smartwatch and once it hit three miles (even though he knew how far he’d run already), he stopped and braced his hands on his knees to catch his breath for a second. He took his time walking to the coffee shop, not in any hurry. He was ahead on work since he’d needed the distraction yesterday to take his mind off a certain someone.

And certain someone he noticed was standing outside the coffee shop when he rounded the corner. He was dressed in a different, but still amazing suit today, phone pressed to his ear, gesturing expressively with his free hand.

Steve pulled his earbuds out when he got closer, pausing his music. The other man turned slightly when Steve was a few feet away, catching sight of him. “Hold on, Pep, I gotta go. No, no, I’ll be there soon. Just… tell them to sit tight. I pay them enough,” he said to the person on the other end of his phone call, hanging up once he was finished, and sliding the phone into the inside pocket of his blazer. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Steve the entire time and he stopped walking once he was an arm’s length away, close enough to touch if he wanted to. “Hi,” he said to Steve, posture easy, lips not quite smiling but close.

“Hey.” Steve, on the other hand, was playing with the cord to his earbuds, feeling unaccountably nervous. He tried for a joke.  “Did you leave your wallet in your other, other suit?”

The man laughed, at least, even though it hadn’t been all that funny. “No, I remember that today,” he said, chagrined. “I did forget to give you my number though.”

“What?”

“Yesterday.” He took a step closer, making the scant distance between them even less. “I should have given you my number.”

“Oh,” Steve said inanely. “I’d like that.” God, he sounded like an idiot. The man held his hand out and Steve stared at it, brow furrowed.

“Gimme your phone,” Tony prompted, wiggling his fingers.

“Oh. Right.” He pulled the earbuds out, shoving them into the pocket of his shorts in a jumbled mess, and handed his phone to him after unlocking it.

“Iphone,” he muttered, tsking as his fingers flew over the screen. Maybe he was an android guy? “There you go, Steve.”

Steve took his phone back, mouth open to ask how he knew his name, but remembered that Darcy had said it yesterday when she rang him up. “Thanks,” he said instead for lack of anything better.

“I’m late for work, so I need to go, but…” he looked up at Steve with that same amused, interested look from yesterday that might have fueled a couple fantasies last night. “You should definitely call me.”

Steve nodded before the man turned and started to walk away. He glanced down at his phone, saw that he’d entered himself under ‘Coffee Shop Guy’ and called after him, “What’s your name?”

Several people turned to stare, but whatever it got the guy’s attention. He looked a bit bemused. “Ask Darcy,” was all he said before continuing a little ways down the street, where a car idled by the curb. A guy in a black suit leaning against the car pulled the door open for Coffee Shop Guy. Steve shook his head and walked inside, feeling a little unsteady. Who was that guy? Who just had a chauffeur?

The line wasn’t too bad when he got in and it was only about five minutes later when he got to the counter. Darcy had a bigger smile than normal on her face. “You lucky dog, you,” she said, leaning over to give his shoulder a good natured above.

He frowned at her. “The hell are you talking about?”

“The guy.” She was so excited, she was practically vibrating.

“Yeah, he told me to ask you what his name is. I got his number, but he didn’t tell me.” Which was weird. The guy was eccentric to say the least.

“You seriously don’t know?” Steve school his head and she rolled her eyes, pulling his latter and muffin over to ring him up. “You’re so oblivious. Do you live under a rock?”

“I guess?”

“Good grief.” She picked up something from beside her register and handed it to him.

“What’s this?”

“Just read it.”

He looked down and saw that it was a business card. Snowy white paper, embossed type. His brows popped up, this thing was nice. Then he read the name and his mouth fell open. “Holy shit.”

“Yup.” Darcy plucked his phone out of his hands and scanned his Apple pay app for him.

“That was Tony Stark? Tony Stark of Stark Tech Tony Stark?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How the hell did I get Tony Stark’s number?” He looked up at Darcy helplessly. Tony Stark has been on Forbes 30 under 30 list for… as long as someone could be on that list. He’d been on their Richest People in America list, too. Probably still was. And Steve had met him because the guy forgot his wallet and couldn’t buy coffee? He owned an entire freaking building in midtown.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“Oh, come on,” Steve said, taking his phone back and stepping to the side to finish their conversation because a line was starting behind him. “He’s dated models and royalty. I design book covers. I grew up in Brooklyn!”

“So?” Darcy looked at him like he was crazy and maybe he was. A rich, attractive guy gave Steve his number and he was busy thinking up reasons not to call? He was being ridiculous and he knew it.

He blew out a harsh breath. “You’re right. You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Darcy told him with a cheeky grin. “Now, go call the hot millionaire so you can have amazing sex with him!”

Steve blushed, glaring at her when she laughed, and left. Out on the sidewalk, he looked down at his phone, biting his lip in indecision. Ah, fuck it. Steve pulled up Coffee Shop Guy and sent him a text instead of calling since it had sounded like there were people waiting for him from the call he—Tony—has been on before Steve walked up.

Steve: Hi. It’s Steve. Just wanted to make sure you had my number. Don’t want to bother you at work.

His phone vibrated almost immediately.

Tony: You could never be a bother. I’m in a shareholders meeting and it’s super boring anyway.

Tony: Entertain me.

Steve chuckled and shook his head, texting back as he climbed the steps to the front door of his building.

Steve: Afraid I have work to do myself. But I can entertain you later if you want.

Steve rolled his eyes at himself. That had sounded a lot more suggestive than he’d meant it to. He stopped to grab his mail and headed up to his apartment.

Tony: What did you have on your mind?

… Okay, he could play this a couple of different ways. What did he want here was the question. Steve dropped his mail on the kitchen table once he was inside his apartment and sat down, sipping at his latter and staring at the phone.

Steve: Dinner?

He left it as a question, then thought that he should have been more decisive. Tony texted him back really fast.

Tony: Yes

Just that. One word. Steve felt a smile breaking over his face.

He was going to have dinner with Tony Stark.

#Cap-Ironman bingo fill #stonybingo #stony #stevetony #stony fic #more fluff

[connors-heart]

“smooth, connor”: [requested]

[ “vines prompt!! 26, with connor trying extremely hard to flirt (he’s already deviant) and ending up being adorable, so he keeps trying to convey his feelings in a more cool than cute way?” @glyxiebear ]

pairing ⟶ connor x reader

fandom ⟶ detroit: become human

warnings/a.n. ⟶ [no warnings] ; so as promised, here’s a request for a vine prompt. #26 was the ‘burnt chicken nugget’ vine so i just went out on a limb and assumed you meant #27 lmao

w.c. ⟶ 1.4k

#27: “My name is _____. But you can call me,” *slips of sunglasses* “ANYTIME.”

“Lieutenant, you’d consider me moderately close, wouldn’t you?”

The older man looked up from his monitor, indifferent as he made eye contact with the android, “Possibly,”

“May I ask you a personal question then?”

He sighed, “Shoot, I’m all ears,” his voice was monotone as he went to take a sip of his coffee.

“How would you say is the best method to catch a woman’s attention?”

Connor watched as Hank sputtered on his drink, a look of concern growing upon his features as the lieutenant went red in the face, attempting to regain his composure.

“Are you alright, Hank?”

Hank’s brows creased together as he stared at Connor, his chest heaving, “Connor. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well - I met someone, and I’m not exactly sure how to approach her,”

Hank sighed as he went to clean up the drops of coffee from his desk and keyboard, “Jesus, Connor, I don’t know. I’d assume android women are extremely different from human women,”

“She’s human,”

Hank’s movements subsided as he turned to look at Connor. He stared at him in thought before rolling his eyes, “Is this about Y/N?”

Connor looked across the room, his eyes landing on you as you spoke with Officer Wilson at his desk. He turned back to Hank, “Yes,”

Hank’s gaze darted between you and Connor, a hopeful look resting upon the android’s face. Although you’d just began working at the DCPD, you’d became moderately close with Hank, and maybe even closer with Connor. Of course, Hank had no problem with it, besides the fact that the two of you couldn’t be more oblivious.

The silver haired man continued to find himself stuck in the middle of you making sly remarks and Connor’s doe-eyed gaze every time the two of you found time to speak to one another. And to say the least, it was fucking disgusting.

Nonetheless, Hank sighed once again, his eyes resting upon Connor, “You really wanna know how to catch her attention?” he asked, earning an eager nod from him.

“Flirt with her, she’ll get the message,” he explained flatly, turning back to his computer.

Connor tilted his head slightly, still staring at the man, “How?”

Hank glanced over at Connor, “I don’t fuckin’ know, look up some pick up lines, I’m sure she’ll love those,”

He blinked momentarily, staring at Hank as he typed away at his computer before turning to his own, looking up the pick up lines his partner had referred to. He came across a website full of them, reading throughout them and wondering which ones you’d like the most.

Several minutes and around 20 pick up lines later, Hank was beginning to contemplate between the feeling of either wanting to scream or cry, probably both. He rubbed his tired eyes, “‘I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours?’ - I think she’d like that one, do you think she would?”

“You don’t even have a fucking phone, Connor,” Hank hissed, a look of annoyance filling his features.

Connor nodded slowly, “Maybe another one,”

Hank sighed, leaning back into his chair as he cracked his neck, “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten-”

“No. Fuck no,”

Connor glanced over at him, “You’re right. She’s not even from Tennessee,”

Hank leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk as he stared at Connor, “Listen. I’m pretty sure she can tolerate you, hell, she probably might be sadistic enough to even like being around you. So just go and shoot your shot already,”

Connor’s chest raised slightly, a deep breath leaving his nose as he looked up to see you walking into the department’s cafe.

“Oh, fucking fantastic, go and pay for her coffee while you’re at it,” Hank pulled a ten from his pocket, tossing the wrinkled paper at Connor. “Go,” he beckoned.

Immediately, Connor stood, taking a final look at Hank before making his way into the cafe. He recognized your frame as you stood in line, ordering your usual latte and pastry. Pushing his feet from their cemented spot on the ground and walking over to you.

Just as you went to pay, Connor held out the money to the cashier, “I’ve got it,” he spoke, glancing over at you as the woman took the bill.

You raised a brow, “Oh, thank’s Connor,” you spoke, offering him a smile.

“No problem,”

You took your order as you sat at a table, offering Connor to sit with you to which, of course, he obliged.

“So,” he began.

“So…” you hummed, taking a bite from your croissant.

“I realized you really remind me of something,”

You nodded, “What’s that?”

“A magnet,”

You stared at him, a confused grin growing on your face, “Because you’re extremely attractive,”

Biting back your smile, you nodded along, “That’s adorable, Connor,”

“I should also tell you I was feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on,”

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that passed your lips. Connor recognized your flushed cheeks as you blushed, a feeling of accomplishment surging through him. He continued on for several minutes, leaving you with a sore stomach and tears stinging your eyes from laughing.

He would’ve continued, if not for Captain Fowler’s booming voice, calling both you and Connor as he entered the cafe. “Yes, sir?” you asked, trying your hardest to wipe the amusement from your face. “Get back to work. Now.” he growled, leaving back to his office.

You turned back to Connor as he left, a final laugh escaping from both you and Connor. You slipped out of your seat as you went to throw away your trash, “Well, robo-boy, we’ve for sure gotta get married now,” you winked as you turned to go back to your desk, leaving Connor just as flustered as he made you.

As a few days passed, Connor’s confidence sparked. It was evident to not only Hank, but the rest of the staff that both you and Connor were on the brink of something romantic.

“You know what you’ve gotta do now, right?” Hank suddenly asked, snapping Connor out of his daze. He turned to him, “What?”

Hank met his gaze, his fingertips still lingering over his keyboard as he spoke, “You gotta ask her on a date,” he concluded with a knowing look on his face.

Connor’s eyes fell onto the desk, his thoughts automatically becoming jumbled with just how he would do so.

“Don’t think too hard on it, son. Just go over there and keep doing what you’ve been doing,”

Connor did a once over on the advice in his head, nodding subtly as an idea came to mind. “One second,” he muttered, reaching over to Hank’s desk as he snatched his sunglasses. Before the lieutenant could object, Connor was already on his feet and over to your desk.

Staring at the file on your computer, you rested your cheek upon your palm, a wave of tiredness falling over you. Just before you could begin reading through another file, Connor leaned against your desk. A smirk grew on your face as you noticed Hank’s glasses covering his eyes, “What are you doing-”

“My name is Connor, but you can call me-” he pushed the glasses down the bridge of his nose, his eyes meeting your own, “anytime,”

A laugh passed your lips almost upon command as Connor took the glasses off, a smile lining his face. “I actually do have a genuine question to ask,”

You chuckled, “Of course,”

He hesitated for a moment, “Well, there’s a festival going on downtown tonight, I was wondering if you’d like to go?”

You squinted, a smile still lingering on your face, “A date?”

He nodded, holding your gaze with a hopeful stare.

You looked away for a moment, contemplating the idea before looking back up at Connor.

“Only if you promise me more horrible pick up lines, then yes.”

#connor #connor dbh #dbh connor #connor dbh imagine #connor dbh imagines #connor dbh fanfic #connor dbh fanfics #connor dbh fanfiction #dbh connor imagine #dbh connor imagines #dbh connor fanfic #dbh connor fanfics #dbh connor fanfiction #dbh connor x reader #connor dbh x reader #connor x reader #dbh x reader #dbh imagine #dbh imagines #dbh fanfics #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #dbh #detroit become human fanfic #detroit become human fanfics #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit become human imagines #detroit become human imagine #detroit become human x reader

[timothygurl]

REED900 WEEK DAY 4 PETS

Gavin needed a new place. His landlord had informed him that he’s increasing the rent when his contract expires. Like hell he’s gonna pay more for that shithole, and he has about 2 weeks until he has to move out.

He started to hunt apartments that are approximately close to the precinct and are pet friendly. Nothing pops up that would suit his wallet or his liking. He tried online and offline at agencies, he asked friends and even colleagues.

Nothing.

There was fucking nothing, and he had only two days left.

He thumped his head on the desk and groaned. Loudly.

“Is everything alright detective?” a very concerned Connor appeared next to him.

“...no.” the human grumbled back at him, his face still pressed into the desk.

“He is looking for an apartment, preferably pet friendly,” continued Nines.

At the word ‘pet’ Connor perked up “You have a pet, detective?”

Gavin glanced at a very giddy Connor “...yes?”

The android got even more excited and shoved his palm into Gavin’s face “This is Sumo! Hank’s dog! He’s so sweet, he’s like a friendly giant! He also hates pigeons! What is your pet like? Do you have a photo of him? May I see???”

‘What the actual fucking fuck,’ Gavin thought to himself, eyes like saucers as he stared at the droid in confusion. “I have a cat, and it’s a she.”

“Oh! May I see her, please?”

Gavin thought about pressing his face back into the desk, but what the hell. He fumbled for his phone in his pocket and opened the folder named ‘Bean’. He opened one of the photos and handed it over to Connor. The android beamed at him as he took the device and promptly started asking questions: ‘How old is she? Is she a good cat? Does she like Nines? Do you take her for walks? What is she doing all day? Does she like to play? What is her favourite food? Is she a good hunter?’ Gavin wanted to strangle him.

But then Connor asked him why he needed to move. Gavin answered with a grumble.

Then came a question he didn’t anticipate. “Why don’t you move in with Nines? You have been together for 9 months now.”

Gavin was taken completely by surprise. Not because he has not thought about that possibility, but because Connor has. And of course, he had to ask it in front of Nines…

In all honesty, Gavin has thought about living with Nines more times than he cared to admit. But how could he ask his state of the art, statue of perfection of a boyfriend to move in with a loser like him. An asshole detective and an even bigger asshole of a cat; that’s what Nines needed in his day-to-day life…yeah, right.

Nines’ calm voice interrupted the awkward silence. “He didn’t ask, and I did not think it appropriate to ask.” Gavin gulped then looked at his partner as the android continued, “But he and Beanie are always welcome to stay with me.”

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

Connor must have seen it as a personal mission to needle Reed about moving in together with his ‘little brother’, coming over in every free minute of his, spouting out reasons and statistics why he should say yes.

He barked at Hank to ‘reign his boyfriend in’, but the Lieutenant only flipped him off with a laugh without looking up from his terminal.

Gavin also looked at Nines with a helpless expression and a complicated eyebrow-sign, but the android’s only response was, that he would not want to get involved, as this was entirely up to Gavin. The offer still stood.

At the end of their shift Gavin all but shouted “Yes alright! I’m gonna move in with him are you fucking happy?” into Connor’s face. The droid beamed at him.

He could hear Anderson trying to stifle a laugh at that. Tina wasn’t so subtle, her chortle and “Pay up, Chris!” ringin’ through the bullpen.

He finally looked at Nines, trying to assess the damage his outburst might have caused. Nines might be hard to read for some, but Gavin never really had a problem deciphering him.  He looked…relieved, as if he had been afraid that Gavin wouldn’t want to be with him.  

“Is this okay?”

“More than,” Nines smiled.

So, the next day found them packing Gavin’s life into boxes. Not that there was much of it; mostly clothes, some knick-knacks and obviously, all the cat stuff.

By evening the boxes have been all emptied. Gavin went to put the last of his jackets in the wardrobe. He was barely standing straight at that point, but just shoving his shit in between Nines’ neatly organized turtlenecks and suit jackets would have been rude. So, he took a deep breath and put everything on hangers. He could hear Nines mutter something and putter away in the kitchen. Why the android decided to move into a flat with a kitchen and everything else, Gavin would never know, but he wouldn’t question it either.

This all felt too good, he couldn’t help but wait for something horrible to happen.

But stepping out of the bedroom, and then seeing Nines crouched next to that asshole cat of his – or maybe that asshole cat of theirs – made some little spark of hope come alive in his chest. The smile Nines sent his way a moment later made it ablaze.

Yes, he thought; this might just work out.

**~special thanks to my sister @nightxshade for the second paragraph!~**

#reed900 week 2018 #reed900 week 2018 day 4 #detroit become human #dbh #gavin reed #rk900 #gavin900 #reed900 #ninehundreed #ficlet #pets #fic by me

[chibi-arthur]

Stop interrupting my thought proc- 1/10

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122630/chapters/42845291

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: HankCon

Warnings: major character death, suicide, angst, memory alteration

Rating: M

Hi! It's my first proper DBH fanfic and I'm very excited to share it with you! Warning: this story will get very dark so please mind the tags and protect yourself.

Beta'd by the fantastic @honkforhankcon

Day 1

Connor was just leaving the break room with a coffee cup in hand. His eyes unerringly found Hank, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and chin tipped towards his chest. Connor couldn't help but smile.

He made his way over to the napping Lieutenant. Connor knew he should probably wake him up before Captain Fowler or Gavin noticed but instead of that he sat on Hank's desk. He set the coffee cup gently next to Hank's monitor. Crossing his legs at the ankles, Connor leaned back a little on his hands and looked at Hank.

The Lieutenant's face was relaxed like it never quite was when he was awake. His wrinkles were a bit more pronounced too but there was something charming about them. His lips were slightly parted, the little gap between his teeth visible. Today Hank pulled his hair into a ponytail but a loose strand fell over his left eye. Connor reached out to tuck the wisp of hair behind Hank's ear but he froze halfway through the motion when he realised what he was about to do. He quickly changed the trajectory of his hand to touch Hank's shoulder.

"Lieutenant," Connor shook his shoulder lightly "Lieutenant, wake up"

With a grunt that turned into a yawn Hank woke up from his slumber. He rubbed his face with both of his hands and Connor slipped off of the desk quietly.

"Thanks Con," Hank murmured upon seeing the coffee in front of him. He sent the android a sleepy smile, something he started doing more and more lately.

When Connor thought about it, Hank's health and attitude vastly improved over the year they worked together. He started with the small things, like going on walks with Sumo and letting Connor sneak a salad or two into his diet. Then he drank a couple less glasses of whiskey during the day. After two months he stopped smoking altogether - it was an extraordinary show of his strong will, he just decided to stop one day and threw away all of the cigarettes and lighters he owned. Connor was very impressed. For a week after this though, Hank drank a bit more but not as much as he used to.

After half a year of this Hank made the decision to go to therapy. It's 3 years overdue, he said while informing Connor of this development. In a burst of pride the android hugged Hank, making the older man flustered. He pulled back as quickly as he flung himself at Hank, masking his own embarrassment with a big smile and a few words about how proud he was. Things between Hank and Connor slowly began to change from this moment on.

Their relationship improved, Connor's social programme declaring them "best friends" a few days after the hug incident. They started spending more time together outside of work, their teamwork reached new heights of efficiency. Hank learned a whole lot of things about androids (going even as far as helping Connor fix himself after one of the perps dislocated both of the android's shoulders, somehow) and Connor gained extensive knowledge of humans, which helped him navigate the world better and deal with all of the things deviancy made him feel.

“Connor!”

The sudden shout startled the android. He forcefully pulled himself from his thoughts and focused on Hank. The Lieutenant was smirking.

“Did you listen to the word I said?”

“I- of course Lieutenant,” By the way Hank’s eyes crinkled Connor knew he didn’t believe him.

“Fuck, a fancy prototype just got lost in his thoughts. This whole deviancy business really messed with you up there,” With a laugh the Lieutenant reached out and ruffled Connor’s hair. The android fussed, trying to smooth down his hair which only caused Hank to laugh harder. The sound made something like a spark travel through Connor’s circuitry and he found his cooling units having to work double time to alleviate all the ‘system overheating’ errors crowding his visual interface.

“Please, stop it Lieutenant,” His hair refused to go back to their impeccable state but he was not pouting, definitely not.

Hank decided to be merciful and didn’t say anything else. He just threw on his jacket, took the coffee Connor brought in one hand and motioned to the android to follow him with the other. Connor gave up on trying to tame his hair and trailed after his partner.

“So, as I was saying,” Hank began with a smirk, drawing an irritated huff from Connor, “I had this idea while I was sleeping. We should go back to that restaurant the vic frequented and question the waitress again. I think we were too soft on her,”

“She did seem suspicious. Sorry Lieutenant, I should’ve noticed it right away and acted accordingly,”

Hank just waved his hand in a ‘don’t worry about it’ gesture while taking the first sip of his coffee. He squinted suspiciously at the cup afterwards.

“Hey, how come you make the coffee taste exactly the way I make it, anyway?”

“Ah! I believe it’s another case of ‘weird android bullshit’, Lieutenant,”

“What, did you lick my coffee cup when you came over that one time or something?” Connor’s LED spun an anxious yellow but before he could say something Hank spoke again, “Never mind, I don’t want to know,”

Connor promptly shut his mouth and temporarily put the blushing software in quarantine to prevent it from activating. He wanted to delete it the nanosecond he found out it exists (which was 12 days, 9 hours, 23 minutes and 52 seconds ago when Hank praised him for a particularly well-made salad) but… there was something in Hank’s eyes when he saw him blush. Something that made Connor’s pump regulator stutter and his breathing simulation stop for 47 seconds.

Connor shook his head before he could get lost in those thoughts again, turning back to Hank.

“What’s going to be our next step?”

“I dunno, some plastic asshole woke me up,” Hank playfully shoved the android with his shoulder to take the sting out of his words (not that there was any) and opened the door on the driver’s side of his car. Connor scrambled to get into the passenger's side after getting rid of a few errors. He should really use the next time he went in stasis to optimise his software so it wouldn’t malfunction every time Hank touched him.

***

The ride to the restaurant was smooth, traffic not bad for Detroit at this time of day. The second they stepped through the threshold and the waitress caught sight of them she bolted through the employees only door out back. Connor tore off right after her, pushing past disgruntled patrons and waiters alike without even a word of apology.

"Why do they always run?" Hank let out a long-suffering sigh and jogged his way back through the front door, hoping to cut off the suspect from the other side.

Turns out he needn't have bothered because Connor already had the woman cuffed when he caught up to them.

"Miss De Santa, you're going to come with us to the station for questioning in regards to the murder of Trevor Philips," the android said evenly, not fazed in the least by the waitress' thrashing and struggling against his hold.

"No! I didn't do anything! Let me go!" she shrieked for naught as Hank and Connor led her to the car and drove back to the precinct.

The ride back was uneventful, right up to the point when they had to stop at a red light and Miss De Santa decided it would be a great idea to try and headbutt the window she was closest to. The window rattled ominously but held fast. The woman didn't attempt to try again, likely deterred by the fact that she would have to seriously injure herself in order to smash the glass. There was already a bruise forming on her forehead.

Soon enough they were in the interrogation room. Miss De Santa denied having anything to do with the murder for at least an hour but when Connor brought up all the contradictions in her two statements she crumbled like a house of cards.

"He deserved it! That...that monster was beating up his wife! I saw it! He was bringing her to the restaurant regularly, acting like the perfect husband, but I saw it! The poorly concealed bruises on her arms and neck, the fear in her eyes! I poisoned the bastard, so she could have a chance at a normal life. I don't regret anything. I would do it all over again," Her mouth was pulled back in an ugly sneer, her body coiled and ready to fight despite being cuffed to the table.

Connor and Hank wordlessly left the interrogation room (they've started doing joint interrogations only two months ago) and sighed in unison once the door whooshed shut.

"I swear to God, this was the longest interrogation in history. Don't," Hank pointed at the android before he even opened his mouth. Connor raised his eyebrow, "I know you're about to spew some bullshit, listing the longest interrogations with their times right down to a single millisecond. So just. Don't."

"Are you really not the slightest bit interested in that?"

"Hell no. Anyways, we deserve a vacation,"

"Vacation, Lieutenant? What's that?"

"You- you know what vacation means, you had-" Hank cut himself off when he noticed a smile growing on the android's face, "Oh ha-fucking-ha. You think you're funny, asshole?"

Despite his words, there was a matching smirk tugging at Hank's lips. Connor spent more processing power than usual to analyse how the older man's face changes when he's smiling and so he didn't notice an arm winding itself around his neck until it was too late. Hank pulled the android into a pseudo choke hold and noogied the hell out of him.

"Wha- Lieutenant! Cease this at once!"

Hank just laughed and started walking out of the building, never releasing his hold on the android. Connor could easily free himself if he wanted to but he let himself be dragged out, putting only a token protest at being manhandled. Besides, he'd have to injure Hank in order to break the hold the older man had on him.

The task "keep Hank safe and unharmed" blinked insistently at him the second he thought about Hank injured in any way.

Hank let Connor go only when the android was bundled up in his car. He started the engine, driving away from the precinct at a speed a little higher than usual. Connor frowned at this. He wondered why-

Suddenly, it all made sense.

"Lieutenant! The report!"

"Aw, crap." Hank at least had the decency to look chastised. He didn't turn the car around though.

"We should go back and submit the report. Captain Fowler isn't going to be pleased." Connor's LED spun an alarmed yellow. "And we left Ms De Santa cuffed to the table!"

"Calm the hell down, someone will find her."

"Hank!"

***

Connor was still sulking by the time they reached Hank’s house 30 minutes later. He petulantly trailed after the Lieutenant, sitting on the couch with a huff that only managed to draw a chuckle and an affectionate eye roll from Hank. Connor stayed like that, brightening up a little when Sumo trotted over to him and put his massive head on his lap, silently demanding pets, which the android happily delivered.

Suddenly, Connor’s world went pitch black. He startled, tearing the thing that was unceremoniously dropped on his head off. He should’ve been able to see it coming but he tended to let his guard drop around Hank and Sumo.

Connor was very confused when he saw Hank’s old shorts and a wifebeater in his hands.

"What’s that?" he asked, turning his head to look at Hank who stood behind the couch.

"Clothes."

"I’m already wearing clothes, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, but they’re not fit for a game of basketball. And what did I say about calling me by my rank in my house, huh?"

"That I shouldn’t do that," Connor said automatically before addressing Hank’s first sentence. "Basketball?"

"Yup." Hank ruffled the android’s hair, messing it up even more than earlier at the station. Connor didn’t even attempt to smooth it out this time. "Come on, get changed and meet me out back."

With those words, the Lieutenant was out the back door, whistling for Sumo to follow. The big dog bounded happily after his owner, tail wagging behind him and smacking walls on both sides of the narrow corridor. Ever since Connor helped Hank come up with a healthier diet and exercise regimen for Sumo, the dog became more energetic. It made a warm smile bloom on the android’s face.

Connor went to the bathroom and changed inhumanly fast, leaving his suit neatly folded on the closed toilet lid. He made his way through the back door, curious about the basketball game Hank proposed. They never did that. Connor had to admit that he was excited about this.

The first thing he noticed was the noise of something hitting concrete. Letting his gaze follow the sound Connor saw a basketball being bounced off of the ground in Hank's backyard. It was bounced by large hands, slightly cupped and attached to a pair of muscular arms. The arms, like the rest of Hank, had a layer of fat that made the muscles less pronounced and gave the Lieutenant cuddly vibe but didn't mask the strength lurking beneath, coiled and waiting for the opportunity to strike. Connor watched those muscles move, letting his eyes linger, trailing them higher and-

"Oi, Connor, catch!" It was the only warning before a ball smacked him in the chest. His arms came up to hold the offending spherical object on instinct.

Connor, holding a basketball in his hands for the first time, squeezed it a bit to estimate what kind of pressure would be acceptable so as not to destroy the ball. He bounced it against concrete, miscalculating horribly - the ball hit him in the face on its way up.

"Holy shit," Hank guffawed. "Con, you okay?"

Connor had a mildly inconvenienced look on his face. "I'm fine, Hank." He bent down to pick up the ball and noticed the borrowed wifebeater sliding slightly up towards his thirium pump. He heard Hank cough. It probably wasn't related.

After he retrieved the ball and bounced it a few times, Connor was ready to play.

"Okay Hank," Connor announced as he was lightly bouncing the ball, "we can sta-" He didn't manage to finish his sentence when Hank, in an incredible show of skill, swiped the ball from Connor between bounces and made his way to the net. Connor could only watch in astonishment as Hank threw the ball in a perfect arc and scored.

"Ya better close your mouth Con, or flies are gonna get in," Hank laughed at the android's expense, enjoying his victory. "Come on, give me a challenge." He picked up the ball and barely bounced it once when Connor swooped in.

Connor, learning from Hank’s previous move, took the ball from the Lieutenant and went for a slam dunk. He sent a smirk Hank’s way, absently noting his elevated heart rate despite not having moved an inch and just observing him. The android picked up the ball, bending a little more than necessary just to see another spike in Hank’s pulse, a theory forming in his mind. It was bold of Connor to assume so but did Hank, maybe, perhaps, feel attraction towards him? He intended to put his theory to the test during this friendly match.

Connor strolled over to Hank, stopping a breath away from the older man, the only thing separating them being the basketball in his hands. “Well then, Lieutenant,” the shit-eating grin on his face and the use of his title made Hank’s eyes narrow dangerously, “what was it you were saying about a challenge?”

Hank positively growled, the sound sending a shiver through Connor’s biocomponents.

The next 30 minutes or so (Connor found better use for his processor than to keep track of time) were spent dribbling across the concrete backyard. Hank turned out to be more than a decent player and as soon as they were done Connor was going to grill him on it. Currently, Hank had him cornered, arms outstretched and trying to reach around Connor who was standing with his back to the human, bouncing the ball with one hand and the other in a similar position to Hank’s – guarding the ball from his ‘opponent’. They were at a stalemate, none willing to break it. Connor calculated the odds and no matter which path he took in his preconstructions, there was less than a 20% chance of him managing to avoid Hank’s swipe for the ball. Unless…

Connor took a tiny step back, bringing his back closer to Hank’s chest. Maintaining his defensive position, the android bent his knees a bit more, his butt brushing against the front of Hank’s shorts. The plan backfired horribly as Connor’s proximity sensors registered how…well-endowed the Lieutenant really was. His arm bouncing the ball as well as his left leg glitched and he made an ill-advised turn. It was no surprise that Hank jumped at the chance and easily stole the ball from Connor. He tried to salvage the situation somehow and chased after the older man but an insistent message kept obscuring his HUD.

ç̶̢͖̖̠͈̰̰̲͙̠̗ͩ͒͌̓̈̎ͧͮ̃͌ͦ̊̽̆͆̓̚͡o̊ͣͩͧͭ̽͌̒̅͊͊͟͠҉̗͍̬͈͎̺̹͓̪͚̞̖̙͔̰̭̩ṁ̸͆̒̀ͦ̑̌̆͋͏̭̫̠̲̞͕̱̖̻͚͍͖̻̪̮̼̭̦͝ę͂̏́̿̊̊̃̿̍͛̂͢͏̡̘̖͔̹͈ ̸̙̞͚̣̭̰͂ͦͪ͂ͣ͠͡ȟ̴̢̟̪̙̣͈͇̻͔͖̙̯̤̳̤̝̩̮ͬ̃̆͐̉ͩo͌̔ͦͯ̽̅ͭ̚҉̴̖̺̪͈̳̰̭̱̠͓̲͞m̸̢͙̦̲̺̩̹̖̗͕͔̖̃ͫ̎͐͂ͯͫ͝͞ͅe̷̦̪̱̼͎͉͚͈̖̠̯̤͔͔͇̼̞̝ͥͧ̊̉ͩͫ́͑͂͑̓ͧ̓̈͒̓ͤ͘͜,ͮ̊̔ͤ̑͗҉̥͖̤͓̫͝ ͮͩ̈̇ͣ̍̄̄̐̒̾̓̈ͪͫ̄ͫ̌͏͕̭̲̱͚̠͙̝̮̰̖̤̤̭̺̗͙̙̕͜Ç̸̖̹̬̻̘̲̭͓̳̳̝̼̟̖̣͚̩̦͌̎ͯ̐̏͐̅ͣ͝o̦̗̦̗̗̬ͧ̾̃̓̔́̔ͪ̿̐̎͑̆͛̆ͣ̓͘n̴̶͇̤̼͓̗͇̫ͣͩ̌̄͊̑͗̾̎͊̏ͥ̍͒ͦͫ̚͡ͅṅ̷̸̵̨͙̺̼̭̞͙̜̙̯ͮ̂̈́͛̅ͦ̔ͮ͒ͫ̐ͧ̑̿ͥ͛͆̃õ̵̵̤̻̟̪͚͇͎͕̼̬̗̩̘̠͇̟̽ͯ̃̔̑͋̆̈̓͊̾̓ͣ͌̓̑͘ͅr̒ͩ͐̓҉̸̮̰̗͚̻̘̩̜̜̞̗̩̣̤͎͞ͅ

Connor tripped over his own two legs, almost braining himself on the back wall of the house, accompanied by a rattle of the net as the ball went in, scoring another point for Hank.

“Connor?” The concern in Hank’s voice was clear.

“I’m fine. Just a glitch.”

Hank kept looking at him suspiciously but said nothing else. Instead, he walked up to the android and wrapped an arm around his back.

“Let’s get you inside, you should sit down for a while.”

“It’s really not-" he tried to protest but Hank would hear none of it. Connor focused on the arm wrapped around him firmly instead. It was warm, silver hair matted down with sweat. He leaned into Hank a bit. Based on the data he gathered during all this time with the Lieutenant, his calculations told him that if his legs were to stop functioning Hank would have little to no problem supporting his full weight or even carrying him. Connor barely resisted turning off the connection to his legs on purpose.

All too soon they reached the living room and Hank helped Connor sit on the sofa, ignoring his indignant squawk of, “I can do it on my own, Hank!”

“Now, you stay here,” he pointed a finger at Connor, “and I’m gonna bring you your blood smoothie.”

“Hank, really, it was just a simple glitch! I’ve since optimised my systems and…” Connor started to rise from the couch but a sharp whistle and a simple gesture from Hank caused Sumo to crawl on the android’s lap, successfully immobilising him. Accepting his fate with a groan, Connor scratched the massive dog behind his ears.

“Good boy.”

Connor knew, objectively, that the words and the following smile were directed at Sumo but he still felt warm inside regardless. He watched Hank disappear into the kitchen with a look of total adoration on his face. He was really glad he got to know the Lieutenant. If it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have deviated, wouldn’t get to experience all those wonderful emotions and sensations. Wouldn’t be able to feel Hank’s warmth, the way his arms wrapped around him in a hug so many months ago, the shiver that Hank’s fingers sent down his spine whenever they ruffled Connor’s hair. It was…he was…

C̶̳̺̼̱̙̱̙̯͍̥͊̓̾͌̆ͦ̏͋̎̆ͩ̃̈ͦ͜oͣ̿̇̊̏̎̓ͧ̐ͭ̊̎͋̈́͌̈́ͫ͢͏͏͙͍͔͖̣̱̙͎͓͎̼̗̯͖͙͠ǹ̸̟͎̖͖̙̭̘͖̙̟̝̹̙̱̬̩͚̠̯̀̇̓̇ͧ̓̎̽͗̎̔̓̔̽͝͞n̹̙̙̮̯̩̲͎̣̼̱̜ͧͯ̓̓ͣ͢o̮̝͈̱͖̳̹̫͓ͦ̄͛̈͗̈͗̓̚͝rͤ̒̄̋͛̓̆ͩ̐͊͂͊͗̅҉̵̴̢̣͈̫̘̻̖̼̫̟̩͙͎̦̙͍̤̞͞ͅ

Connor flinched hard when the message blocked his vision again. He closed his eyes, the longer he looked at it the more dizzy it made him. What the hell was it? He couldn’t trace the message, it was way too corrupted to do that. Focusing on it too much caused unpleasant pulsing in his head. He groaned, tilting his head against the back of the couch and covering his face with an arm.

Something warm and wet pressed into his exposed neck and Connor realised with a start that Sumo licked him.

“Ugh, gross, Sumo.” Hank’s voice. “Stop slobbering all over Con or he’s gonna short circuit,”

Connor tentatively cracked open his eyes and was relieved to notice that the message was gone. “I’m way more resilient than that.” He sat as straight as he could with an 82 kilos of dog on his lap and a too slowly receding headache. He thanked Hank for the glass of refrigerated thirium and pressed it to his cheek. Hank frowned and briefly placed a hand on the android’s forehead.

“You’re burning up. Did you overheat back there? Or is it a weird robot flu?” Connor had to focus a bit more than usual to answer this question, his thoughts drifting constantly to how the back of Hank’s hand felt against his skin.

“We were quite busy and I…delayed stasis for longer than I should.”

“You mean you fuckin’ overworked yourself like fuckin’ always,” Hank said, flicking his forehead. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Stop doing that shit or I swear I’ll call Fowler and make him put you on leave for a month.”

“You’d willingly subject yourself to working with Reed for the time I’m not at the station?”

Without hesitation Hank confirmed. “If it means you’d finally take a break and take care of yourself like you should then you bet your ass I would do that.”

Connor’s pump regulator and lungs malfunctioned briefly. Hank was worried about him. Hank cared about him enough to work with the person he hated the most so that Connor could rest. Connor looked up at Hank with a stunned look on his face, his lips slightly parted. His thoughts were filled with HankHankHank and he could’ve kicked himself when he finally, finally realised what it was that he felt for the human all this time. He was in l-

The sudden, angry buzzing in his head cut all of his thought processes short. Connor doubled over, clutching his aching head in one palm, almost dropping the glass of thirium if it weren’t for Hank steadying his hold on it.

c̸̞͍̰̻̤̄̀ͣ̏͒ͣͪ̆ͪ̐͑̔͒ơ̦̤̗̥̟̝͚̬̠̮͖̩͖̤̻̰̺̋̑̓̌͘m̶̂́̈̅ͥͦ̔̈̒ͯ̍҉̱͙̫͈͔͎̯͚͚̥̟̹̣̰̼̱ͅę̵̛͕̟̝̻̩̪̩̘̮̤̖͔͇ͫ̑ͧ̔ͨ͆̚ ̵̬̞͕͔̱͙̦̻̔ͯͥͭ̈́ͣ͆͋̕ͅţ̸̢̩͉͚̲ͩ͌ͨͬ̂ͩ̒̓ͫ͗͝o͂̈́̋͑̂̽̍͊҉̷̹͇͙̘͎͕̻͕̻͘ͅ ̈̎̾̽̾́̆ͧ̚͏̴̨͈̥͎̲̰̣̥̺̬̪͙̯m̶̷̨̅̐͋̏ͮ͊͑͗ͤͥͤ̂̂͆́ͨ̋ͫ͠҉̳̱̯͉̲͓ė̴̷̢̤̮̮̹̙̳̜̠͇͓̳̞̣͚̣͖͈̭̜ͭ͋̿̽̀̌ͦ̈́ͣͨ͂̽́̅̚

I hope you enjoyed the fluff because it's only gonna get worse :)

#detroit become human #fanfic #hankcon #hank anderson #dbh connor

[wr1tersblock42]

Variable - A Vegebul One Shot

Bulma gives in to the sexual tension between her and her alien house guest. Set in the three year gap. One Shot. 

Despite his demanding, uncouth manner, Bulma found herself fascinated by her house guest. If anyone else had pulled the kind of shit Vegeta did on a daily basis they’d have been out on their ass, but with the Saiyan Prince, she usually let his rude attitude slide with only a few sharp comments.

Maybe it was because he wasn't human, despite his physical similarities, but she found herself studying him at every opportunity, mentally taking note of every little titbit she could learn about him and storing it away in her impressive (if she did say so herself) memory. Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, was a mystery who continued to surprise her with each encounter.

Right now, he stood before her, hands balled into fists at his sides, cheeks flushed red, his bare, exceptionally well-defined chest (like, seriously, the man did not have one gram of fat on him) heaving with each furious breath. Bulma had an on-again off-again boyfriend, but she could appreciate a good-looking man when she saw one and Vegeta could make a woman melt like ice cream on a summer’s day. Until they got wind of his personality, that is.

"What do you mean, no?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"No. N. O. The opposite of yes," Bulma replied, stretching her legs out to rest her combat-styled boots on top of her desk. "I will not build you five more bots. The three you have is enough."

The man's face darkened further, and he stomped towards her. With a sweep of his hand, he knocked her feet off her desk, spun her chair around, and slammed his palms on the desk behind her, trapping her between arms thicker than her legs.

"No is not an acceptable answer," he growled, lifting his lip to reveal a white set of teeth which would have looked identical to a human's if not for the slightly sharper incisors.

Bulma fought the urge to twist her head and bite down on one of the biceps currently encasing her to test how hard they really were. "No," she said again, matching his scowl with one of her own.

Vegeta blinked, confusion flashing over his face before returning to his usual resting angry face. "I could kill you."

"I know." Bulma nodded in agreement. "But you won't." She reached out her forefinger and prodded his left pectoral. Fuck, it was like a rock. A warm, sexy rock. She would have felt guilty for thinking that if Yamcha hadn’t ignored her last three messages (which she took to mean they were currently off-again even though she barely remembered the cause of their latest argument), but he had, so yes. Sexy. “You need me.”

To her surprise, Vegeta flinched, his gaze dropping to her finger and not returning to her face until she'd withdrawn the offending appendage. The moment contact was broken, he recovered. "I need you to build me more bots. If you aren't helping me with my training, then what good are you?"

The scientist in her wondered if his skin was salty from his recent workout or if that was a human excretion because Kami above he never, ever smelt bad. At the moment, he smelt like damp soil (without the fertiliser) and mown grass, as if he'd been rolling around in the garden, but it was by no means unpleasant. To tell the truth it was alluring, and it took all her mental strength not to lean closer and take a deep breath in.

"You can train with three bots," she said firmly. “I will not make you more unless they break.”

Vegeta’s muscles tensed further, which should have been impossible, and he leaned in slightly closer. “You are acting like you have a choice in this. You will make me more. Don’t think you can hamper my training to prevent me from killing your third-class clown of a friend. I will defeat Kakarot no matter what you do.”

“Hamper your training?” Bulma heard her voice raise an octave, but the fury rushing through her was too much to control. She placed both hands on his chest and shoved as she stood up, and what should have been an immovable mountain straightened and stepped backwards. “I’ve done nothing but help you on your quest to become a Super Saiyan! I’ve given you a place to stay, food to eat, and access to Earth’s best training facilities.” They were the same height, she realised even as she chewed him out, meeting his unblinking stare with one of her own. “Don’t talk shit about me preventing you from going blonde, when all I’m doing is trying to prevent you from killing yourself by taking on more bots than the gravity room can handle. If you’re failing at your “legendary birth right”, it’s because of you not me.”

She clamped her mouth shut at the end of her last sentence, realising even as the words flew out that she may have pushed the Saiyan prince too far this time. He looked stunned, his eyes wide. Bulma knew that her words probably hadn’t sunk in and that she really should run because Vegeta was dangerous, she knew that. Implying that a man like him was a failure was suicide, but she found her feet were rooted to the ground.

She could tell the exact moment her remark registered. He blinked slowly, and when his eyes opened again they were filled with fire. He moved so fast all she saw was a blur. One moment she was standing in front of her desk, the next he had her against the wall, one hand against her throat - firm enough to be inescapable without hurting her - while the other gripped her arm. His torso smothered hers and his right leg pushed into her skirt, sliding between her legs, pinning her to the wall in a manner that would have been terrifying… if she’d actually thought he would hurt her.

“Why the fuck do you give a shit if I live or die?” he bellowed, his face contorted into an odd expression of what looked like fury and confusion.

Bulma stared back at him, puzzling over what exactly he meant before finally landing on the fact that he’d completely ignored that she’d implied that he was a failure, and had settled on her admitting she wanted to prevent him from killing himself with her bots.

When she didn’t respond, Vegeta’s eyebrows narrowed even further. She tried to think of an answer, of something that would make him back off but honestly his mouth was close enough for her to kiss (if he hadn’t been holding her neck to the wall), and he smelt really fucking good, and having him this close was so distracting all her thoughts had turned to mush.

“I’ve put a lot of effort into your training, so you can assist with the androids,” she said finally, swallowing hard against his palm - not from fear, but in an effort to push down the warm fluttery feeling she had thanks to his leg pressed against parts that most definitely should not be reacting to her alien house guest. “Why would I want you to die?”

Vegeta sucked in a sharp breath at that, and his tongue shot out and licked his lips. The urge to find out if those lips tasted like a human’s was almost irresistible. Not because she had any feelings for him of course, but purely for scientific purposes. Delicious, sinful, scientific purposes…

Vegeta withdrew the hand from her neck slowly, and before she could feel oddly disappointed at the lack of his touch, he slid his hand down to her waist, resting on the skin showing between her skirt and her short t-shirt. “I want those bots,” he growled, his hot breath a whisper against her cheek.

“And I want to eat ten blocks of chocolate a day and not get fat, but we can’t have it all,” Bulma retorted almost automatically as she struggled to look away from his mouth.

“Can’t we?”

Bulma finally glanced into his eyes and saw the heady glaze in them and knew that his question was more of an invitation.

His lips were slightly parted, his breath a little heavier than normal… oh yes, he was as curious about her as she was about him.

Bulma lifted her free hand and placed it on his chest, intending to push him away like she had before. This was wrong, so very wrong. A man like him shouldn’t be making her feel this way. Forget the fact that he was an alien. He was a murderer. He wanted to kill her best friend and would happily destroy Earth and go on his way without thinking twice.

Still… she could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath her palm, and he suddenly seemed so very human. His eyes dilated and nostrils flared as her hand strayed up a little higher, until her fingers danced along his collarbone. Vegeta didn’t move, didn’t claim as another man would have. He waited, perhaps sensing her indecision, his dark eyes scorching her until she finally slid her hand around the back of his neck and tugged him closer.

His lips met hers with no resistance. They were softer than she’d expected, and they did indeed taste human although she could feel a sparking of energy between them - his ki maybe. When he deepened the kiss, sliding his hand up from her waist to bury itself in her hair and pull them even closer together, the hairs on her arms stood on end and a low moan escaped her throat as she ground herself against his leg, aching desperately for something more.

Vegeta responded with a growl and brought his hands to her thighs, hoisting her legs up. She wrapped them around his waist with a gasp, wondering when exactly his training shorts had dropped, and after a brief fumbling of his hands and her underwear he was inside her and filling her with a mix of pleasure and pain that had her throwing her head back with a scream.

At the sound, he moved one of his hands over her mouth and continued to ram into her relentlessly, not even flinching when she swore into his palm.

Her annoyance at him effectively gagging her disappeared as he continued his onslaught, and behind his hand her muffled cries grew louder, and she felt her release build to an almost painful height.

Vegeta let out his own ragged groan, finally moving his hand away to better hold her, pumping so furiously she was certain her back would be covered in bruises from hitting the wall.

Despite the awkward position, pleasure washed over her in waves as he hit that perfect spot over and over, driving her to madness with its dizzying intensity until finally, finally, she came with a scream.

Vegeta smothered the sound once more, but this time by slanting his mouth over hers and kissing her as his movement became frantic. Although, it was so much more than a mere kiss. His teeth dragged over her bottom lip, bruising the flesh, and his tongue tasted hers, gentle but demanding, while his hand found its way to her hair and tugged at her roots, forcing her to submit.

But Bulma Briefs didn’t submit to anyone.

She bit down on his lip as hard as she could, a thrill rushing through her as he reared back and the metallic tinge of blood filled her mouth.

Far from looking upset, Vegeta’s eyes flashed with pleasure, and he kissed her again, groaning into her mouth before pulling back from their rough kiss to let out a shout that would have put any of the Z-fighter’s battle cries to shame.

He shuddered and fell against her, breathing as erratically as he did after one of his training sessions. They remained pressed up against the wall, curled into other until their breathing slowed in time with one another. As Bulma started to gain feeling back in her jelly-like limbs, Vegeta pulled out gingerly and helped her get her feet on the ground.

“I still want those bots.” Vegeta yanked up his training shorts so damn casually, as if he hadn’t just been moaning in ecstasy moments ago.

“Fuck you.” Bulma straightened her skirt and glared at him, but her words didn’t contain any real malice – she just couldn’t think of a better comeback in her post-orgasm haze.

“We can do that again later,” Vegeta said with a smirk, licking his blood-stained bottom lip. “After I get those bots.”

“Not going to happen, buddy.”

Vegeta just laughed - the sound of someone who knew they’d won - and left the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Bulma stared at it blankly before sinking into her chair in defeat, her shaky legs unable to keep her standing any longer. Well, shit. Now she was going to have to figure out how to make the extra bots and prevent the gravity room from exploding.

After all, any good experiment needed every possibility tested, and there were so very many er… variables, that she wanted to trial with the Saiyan prince.

#vegeta #Bulma #Vegeta x Bulma #DBZ #Dragon Ball Z #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #smut