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bonnieisaway · 4 years

Text

i actually started writing it

i said i’d write it and i’m here to dissapoint

title doubles as a link to it on wattpad if you’d like to read it over there so

chap 1. - this was never the way i planned

Saiki noticed it the other day when he was observing Satou's perfectly average normalness as always. He was standing with a girl Saiki usually didn't see him talk to. It's a girl with (h/l), (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. She's a stereotypical looking girl..which is.. no surprise considering Satou is the crowd he hangs out with. But even then, she seems to be considered pretty by most of the class, judging by the thoughts that flooded in Saiki's head.

Toritsuka walks around from the other door of the classroom and behind Saiki. "Spying on Mr. Normal again?" He asks, seemingly annoyed with Saiki's actions as if he isn't a parasite himself.

"Be quiet. You'll never understand why he's so perfect." Saiki hushes him telepathically, continuing to observe. The girl is sitting on her desk- right next to Satou's- swinging her legs cheerfully and chatting with him as he sits at his desk. "Who's the girl he's talking to?" Saiki asks curiously.

"Huh?" Tortisuka hums, looking around Saiki trying to see who it was in question. "Oh, that's (L/n)! The prettiest girl in Class 2. I don't know how you haven't heard of her before. She's pretty popular in the class because she does commissions for art and stuff. That, and she was apparently born in America." Saiki could tell by the name.

Saiki nods, observing quietly still. "Which gives me an idea! Follow me." Tortisuka perks up. Saiki sighs to himself, muttering a "good grief." Whatever dumb plan Tortisuka had in his head, Saiki didn't want to be apart of.

"No." Saiki refuses blankly as Tortisuka starts tugging on my his weakly.

"Come on! It'll get you in Satou's crowd." He argues, continuing to tug.

Saiki's quiet for a second. "..Fine. Just let go of my arm." Saiki sighs. "And don't try anything on the girl."

"What's it to you?" Tortisuka lets go of Saiki but nudges him as hard as he can. Which, really, felt like a weak poke.

"Don't disturb the peace of normal." Saiki glares at him as he's only left to follow him as he approaches Satou and (L/n).

"...I know! And the dude kept going on and on about being a big 'influencer' that could get me exposure and I'm just like, dude, pay me or I'm not drawing your icon!" (L/n) rants on to Satou as Tortisuka and Saiki slowly come closer in earshot.

"Thats..wow. Yikes." Satou comments.

"I deal with it all too much. I just don't get why people refuse to pay artists. I mean, it's how money has worked for hundreds of years, and 'exposure' isn't necessarily a currency, g-" (L/n) rants on and on before she's interrupted. By Tortisuka.

"(L/n)! Funny seeing you here." Tortisuka tries to squint his eyes for more 'appeal' as he leans on Satou's desk. From closer up, as much as Saiki hated to agree with Tortisuka, (L/n) was undoubtedly pretty. Flecks of gold surround her pupils and an everlasting blush crosses over the bridge of her nose from cheek to cheek. As Saiki stares, he begins to notice- his x-ray vision doesn't work on her. Which was strange and confusing, because it worked on everyone else. In fact, he could see the bones of Tortisuka out of the corner of his eye.

Saiki's mind begins to wonder- was she a physic? Did she have some sort of other power? Was she a fanfiction protagonist? Only one of these were correct, but Saiki didn't know that.

"Ah.. Toritsuka." (L/n) seems to be aware of how much of a parasite he is. "Eyes are up here. What's up?" ..And even then, she's still kind to him. Saiki elbows Toritsuka in the side to pull his eyes out of her chest.

He grunts in pain and stands up straight. "Well, my good friend Saiki here-" He nudges Saiki. He nods his head in acknowledgement. The quicker he stops making a fool of himself, the better. "-heard about your commissions and wanted to get a commission."

(L/n) straightens her back and pulls her phone out of the pocket of her skirt. "Give me a second, Satou." She smiles at him before turning back to Saiki and Tortisuka. She starts tapping the screen. "Alright. What do you want a commission of?" She hands her phone to Saiki, expecting him to take it. "There's some examples of my art."

Saiki slowly swipes through the gallery on (L/n)'s phone. There was a good mix of different drawings here, he assumed fitting to her own style. He didn't know much about art but he thought it was good.

"He wanted a drawing of..uh..himself!" Toritsuka makes up as he hands the phone back to (L/n). That sounds egotistical in Saiki's opinion, but oh well.

"Oh, that's fine!" (L/n) laughs. "Do you know how many people have tried to ask me to draw Kokomi in all these weird ways this week alone? I just can't catch a break." She sighs through her laughter as she taps a few apps. "Let me get a picture of you real fast."

She holds up her phone to take a picture, and Tortisuka throws his arm around Saiki's shoulder. It takes all his willpower to not punch him in the gut, frankly. "Out of the picture, Toritsuka." (L/n) sighs, as soon as he slips away she takes the picture, and then puts the phone back in her pocket.

She hums again for a second. "So, how much?" Tortisuka asks her.

"Can't you let him talk for himself?" She grins cheekily. "I'm thinking." She hums again for another second, nodding slowly and looking Saiki up and down briefly. 'He seems nice and the first guy this week that didn't ask for a naked picture of Kokomi. Plus, it should be an easy drawing.'

"Here's the deal- since I need the practice drawing guys, and it would've been pretty cheap anyway, I'll give it to you free. That cool?" She smiles. Saiki nods, ready to get this over with.

"Hey, what the hell, you charged me like 2000 yen for a drawing!" Toritsuka argues.

"Registered sex offenders do not get cheap artwork." (L/n) laughs. She's only teasing him but Saiki cant help but grin a bit. "Plus, you've asked me to draw poses of women I didn't even know were possible."

Toritsuka grumbles about something that Saiki did not want to hear. (L/n) turns back to me. "But anyway. I'll get it to you either tomorrow or the day after." She smiles kindly. "Class is starting soon, though. You should head back to your classroom. I'll see ya around." She waves Saiki and Tortisuka off politely and turns back to Satou.

..Well.

𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕡

Late at night after school. Saiki lies in his bed staring at the ceiling blankly. As night falls the number of voices buzzing in his head usually falls quieter but even then he can't bring himself to sleep and after a while, memorizing the pattern of the popcorn ceiling gets boring. Saiki crosses his eyes, figuring he'll just randomly pick someone he knows if they're awake. See what they're doing.

Random selection leaves Saiki to be observing (L/n). She's laying across a couch, some sort of tablet in her lap as she uses a stylus to draw. In the corner of the screen was a video call with a male friend of hers.

"Oh my god, shut up!" She laughs in English, pen stylus gliding across the screen as she draws Saiki. He figures that's no surprise, considering the events from earlier that day.

Her friend- a guy- sticks his tongue out at her. "What are you drawing?" He asks.

"This guy at my school." (L/n) shrugs. "Remember that Toritsuka guy? He introduced his friend who apparently wanted a commission of himself. But he's pretty chill and I need practice drawing guys so I said I'd do it for free."

"You need to stop giving away free art." Her friend shakes his head. The drawing Saiki can see over (L/n)'s shoulder is actually pretty good. He wouldn't admit it, but he liked it a lot.

"You try getting commissioned the same drawing of the same girl everyday and then not be ecstatic when someone doesn't ask for it, (F/n)." (L/n) rolls her eyes to (F/n).

"Well, that aside, how's your school been?" (F/n) asks. In the corner of the tablet screen her (L/n) had positioned his video, Saiki can see (F/n) wandering around and doing random things.

"Ah, you reminded me." (F/n) perks up. "They're switching me to class 3."

"What, why?"

Saiki felt the same way. Why was she switching to class 3? Why was the author pulling crappy plot convenient twists so early in the story?

"Yeah. The principal talked to me about- something about my test scores being better fit there, I don't really know. I only know, like, three people in that class." (L/n) shrugs, continuing to draw. She was kidding, right? There's no way. It cannot get this convenient for her.

Out of the corner of Saiki's eye, he sees the time in the corner of (L/n)'s tablet. 12:39AM... He sighs to himself. He's stayed up awfully late for having school in the morning. He uncrosses his eyes and rubs them. Doing that for so long hurt..

He figures he should get to sleep. He glances towards the toy, green-lensed glasses on his desk. He couldn't see through (L/n) with xray vision but could hear her thoughts clear as day and clairvoyance worked just fine. He couldn't help but wonder- how would his other powers work on her..?

𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕡

Saiki doesn't need to read minds to know that (L/n) was switching to class 3 today. Unfortunately for him, could hear everyone's thoughts as always.

Saiki was conflicted as to how to feel about (L/n). On one hand, she was a perectly average girl with her own few talents and special things about her. A perfect kind if person, by Saiki's definition. But there's a problem or two....

'(Y/n)'s coming to my class now, this is great! I knew God loved me! Maybe, with our beauty combined, I can finally make Saiki say 'oh!''

..Teruhashi and her seem to be good friends. Which is unfortunate because Teruhashi attracts attention. And ontop of that, his classmates consider (L/n) overly beautiful. He wouldn't admit it to himself or anyone else but a part of him agreed. He'd say it a million times but he didn't want to stand out.

"Hey, buddy!" Nendo waves a hand in front of Saiki's face. "Did you hear about the new girl?" He asks.

"There's a new girl?" Kaido asks. "Do you know anything about her?"

"Her name's like, (L/n), or something." Nendo shrugs. "I heard she was cool."

"Oh, (Y/n)! I know her!" Kaido brightens. "She didn't tell me she was transferring to our class."

"How come you know her?" Nendo asks.

Kaido's face turns red. 'I'm not telling them that I call her the escaped princess fro Dark Reunion for her own sake.' Kaido thinks to himself, unknowning he just spilled that secret to Saiki. Saiki was curious as why he called her that though. (L/n) wasn't the 8th-grade-syndrome type. "I met her freshman year when she moved here. We used to eat lunch together." Kaido shrugs, trying to play it off.

Before Nendo can call his bluff or any other nuisance Saiki knows can wander over, the teacher steps in the classroom and quiets us. "Class, today a girl from class 2 is switching to our class." The teacher begins. The class' minds begin to bubble up with excitement as they await (L/n) to step into the class.

"Please welcome her to our class." The teacher sighs, before turning towards the door and beckoning (L/n). (L/n) steps in the classroom and smiles. She seemed to be more glowy and happy than most days.

And as Saiki expected, almost the entire class gasps at her beauty. "I'm (L/n) (Y/n)." She smiles. "I moved here from America two years ago. I hope you guys will welcome me." 'Yikes, that sounds cheesy. Shouldn't have said that. Why are there so many guys with their mouths open? Oh shit, wait, that's Saiki. I didn't know he was in class 3.' (L/n)'s thoughts ramble on.

"You may take a seat next to Saiki." The teacher gestures to Saiki and the conviently open seat to his right. (L/n) smiles and nods, walking over and taking a seat next to Saiki.

On one hand, (L/n) seemed perfectly average in every other regard and seems to be less annoying than everyone else who chooses to 'bother' Saiki everyday. But because the girl excels in beauty and creativity, she draws a bit more attention then Saiki would like. He'd have to figure out how to play his cards right. He's said it a million times but, again, he didn't like attention. But seemingly normal attracts normal and that's what he needs to be a bit more normal. It's just like the female version of Satou. Atleast, that's what Saiki would keep telling himself.

Truth is- Saiki was oddly drawn to the girl. To you. He couldn't exactly figure out why so the best reason he came up with. Normal attracts normal. And Saiki is just a normal highschooler who happens to be an esper.

"Hey, Saiki!" (L/n) smiles and turns to the boy in thought. The teacher left the class to study and chat. Saiki figured she just wasn't having it today. "I didn't know you were in this class."

"Surprise." He responds flatly. (L/n) laughs. 'Hey, he's smiling. He looks nice when he's smiling.' Saiki chose to ignore that. He wasn't smiling. Don't know what she's taking about. She needs her eyes checked because Saiki wasn't smiling because of her adorable and heartwarming laugh.

"Hey, so, we should hang out sometime." She brings up casually. Saiki looks up curiously. "You seem pretty cool. Plus I know Tortisuka just had me draw you as an excuse to talk to me, but it's all good." (L/n) shrugs, leaning back in her chair. "Can't change that boy..."

Saiki sighs. "...Fine. Sure." He's got no choice but to reluctantly agree. Is what he keeps telling himself because (L/n) is a nice girl whos really hars to say no to for some reason.

Saiki's friends circle his desk as every other day but now it extends to (L/n)'s desk as well. He'd feel bad for them bothering her, but it seems that she already knew some of them and didn't mind them.

"(L/n)! You didn't tell me you were transferring to our class!" Hairo smiles, approaching her desk.

"Haha, sorry!" (L/n) scratches the back of her head. "I fell asleep kind of early and I didn't get a chance to tell many people.." 'Early? It was 12 in the morning.' Saiki thinks to himself. Despite all that, he was a bit curious as to how she knew all of them.

"You didn't tell me either." Teruhashi comments.

"Yeah, I know, I know, I'm sorry! I was told after school and I got busy the whole rest of the day." (L/n) apologizes.

"It's alright, (Y/n)!" Kaido smiles, his face bright red. "At least you're here now!"

'Hey. Kusuo. Kuusuuuoooo! Answer me, damnit.' Aiura bugs Saiki with her thoughts. Saiki about rolls his eyes into the back of his head. Aiura made this a daily habit ever since she knew Saiki had powers a long time ago. 'Turn off your aura. I wanna see the new girl's aura.' Saiki sighs, but atleast she's said something with an ounce of thought to it for once. Saiki turns down his overly godlike aura and the auras flood back into Aiura's vision as she focouses on (L/n)

'Oh, shit.' Aiura thinks to herself, looking (L/n) up and down. Saiki's intrest peaks as he excuses himself from his friends, walking to Aiura's seat near the back of the class. He slips off one of his gloves so he could use phsycometery to see what Aiura saw.

"What's it look like?" He asks, going to set his hand on her shoulder.

She jumps away from Saiki suddenly, nearly falling out of her chair. "KYAA! It's, it's nothing! Just a normal aura! It's all chill! All good in the hood!" She screams defensively. 'That's not very normal.. very artsy and colorful aura...even then it kind of reminds me of Teryukoko's aura, but...' Her thoughts aside, the more she screams the less she sounds like a gyaru and more like someone who saw one rap song and tried speaking like the rapper.

"You know I can hear your thoughts, right?" Saiki asks her.

She jumps back again. "AAAH!! Stop that!"

"Yare yare...That's not how my powers work." Saiki sighs. He wasn't sure why she was so freaked out about (L/n)'s aura but he figured she'd tell him soon enough. Even then, Kuboyasu and Kaido's aura shocked her, so it can't be anything that bad, right?

Saiki turns and walks back to his desk, his friends welcoming him back as he sits down. He turns to look at (L/n) as she meets Nendo, Yumehara, and Kuboyasu. He did have to wonder.. what could it have been that freaked out Aiura so bad? The only thing that freaks her out is when its super bad or it's connected to Saiki.

He supposed it couldn't be too bad. She's still just a perfect, average girl anyways.

"Hey, lets go to the arcade after school!" Kaido invites (L/n) excitedly, face bright red.

"Sure, why not!" (L/n) agrees, smiling brightly. "I haven't been to one in a while."

"I'll come too!" Nendo invites himself.

"I've got time to kill, so..." Kuboyasu trails off as he joins the party... Saiki sighs to himself. He supposed he was "obligated" to come aswell.

'That was kind of surprising to see for a girl like her...Well, I suppose everyone gets it eventually...' Aiura's thoughts bumble on in Saiki's mind as his friends continue to converse. 'But still, even then..' She sighs, letting her head rest in her palm.

'Having a red string...'

wc: 3014

i told ya’ll it’d dissapoint

i hate the opening So Much but i have stopped caring at this point so

#saiki kusuo #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #why did i write this #and why is it unnessecarily long #iiiiiiiim so tired #you're welcome to unfollow me

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deviationdivine · 5 years

Text

Hopelessly, Lay Your Head (RK800-60|Request!)

TLDR: Planning a future doesn’t always happen the way we want...

Word Count: 2,763

TW: Fluff into full Angst, Suggestive Themes, Character Death, Grief (I think I’m in need of sunshine and roses honestly)

A/N: Prompts: 42. “Stop being so cute.” & 67. “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” | Ahh don’t feel bad! I want to get requests. I’m happy to do them! And thank you for the love! It motivates my writing! This one took a turn I wasn’t expecting. Oops.

Bathing blue, soft and bright is a bloom across flush skin. Shimmering calmly beneath fingertips leans him closer into your body. Fueling his passion even after it ends nothing prevents his choice of tangling incessant, fervently with the human figure he worships as an idol.

Even if it’s impossible to call you a trophy made for idolization still he will do it. If you like he’ll sink down to knees, throw hands up with the goofy grin he’s naturally adopted and tease you effortlessly.

Right now he follows the protocol of getting back at you for being so perfect. Digging fingers into your sides jostles the slow kisses both of you are pecking to each other’s faces.

A laugh spills out which puts a smirk across his busy lips skimming along shoulder now that you wrench sideways to make him stop. There is one thing this android does not do and it’s give up a mission!

Your squirming culminates in kicking a leg from underneath covers. Rustling them all over it’s a fitting sight after making a mess of once perfectly made bedding.

“I swear if you don’t stop…!”

“Is that a challenge?” RK800-60′s voice purrs beside your ear. “I am highly advanced you know. My precision is deadly.”

Is that supposed to be scary? You can’t help snorting. Also those choices of words really get things going. To think this android boy of yours is ready for another round. Sometimes he’s the cutest thing on the planet and others…he’s an insatiable beast.

“Tell me something I don’t know already.” Whispering up into his ear this time floods LED deep scarlet. An outward sign your teasing breath is turning his gears.

Who needs an external feedback component with his entire body tensing against you. It’s felt easily in this cuddling connection that glues you together.

Might seem cliché but after making love you do enjoy a good cuddle. He shares this idea. Anything to have contact between the two of you he craves. It’s everything you want. Of course it means he is happy someone attaches their whole self to him without caring who or what he may be.

To you he is the man you love. That’s enough. It’s also something he savors because doubts can be unhealthy.

Rubbing a nose against his produces a beaming smile because of how cheesy it feels. Well, no one says it’s bad. It does make him pull you flush into his perfectly smooth, freckle dusted skin. Those same tiny beauties dotting a chiseled cheekbone call your lips home.

“Stop being so cute.”

His smile grows sly and needy. “Stop being so delicious.”

Tip of his tongue flicks in a shuddering taste against rapid pulse. Drawing sharp breath out stipulates a new mission to accomplish. Very obvious in how he continues to drag a sensual line up beneath your jaw. Biting your lip is the best course of action.

Oh. Oh, he needs to stop.

“Better than sampling thirium at crime scenes.”

You shove his shoulder. What a stupid thing! “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he challenges in a low husk.

“What do I get if I win?” Testing your android lover with a gleam in the eye adds to this first week sleeping continuously in the same place together. Why else are things so ridiculously scintillating?

The android cocks his head. Indicator flickers as he weighs options. “I will paint the living room by myself.”

Paint by himself? Oh he’s good. “Hmm. Are you sure? I was thinking we could go for something a bit more romantic. Not so much domestic.”

“I can cover myself in pale blue paint for your eye pleasure. Completely naked.”

The wink following his smoky words chills you down to the bone. Talk about a very, very good chill. “Were you made this obscene or is that just something you picked up being deviant?”

“If I tell you, my love, I may have to kill you.” He pauses to kiss your lips delicately and absorb this happiness in his system. You are the sun warming a cold machine. Something you disagree with. You say he is equally warm despite his manufactured state.

You smile threading fingers into his coffee hair. Extremely messy with extra styled curls falling over forehead is probably a favorite sight. Just the reason is nice.

“I love that you’re here,” you confess in a loving whisper.

Everything flutters in his chest. Rapidly thrumming is his synthetic heart all for you and your love for him. “I love to be with you. As a permanent guest.”

Guest? It might be a bit more than that! “We live together now.”

A correct reminder he indulges. He never thought this because he still doubts at times. With you he can rest easy. With you he is complete. “That is why I offered to paint by myself.”

“Well, maybe I want to get messy with you. Did you ever think of that?” This boy just went from offering to complete a remodeling task of your apartment and skipping his promise of getting said paint all over. A nice excuse to use the shower together you think at any rate. Good that they allow those types of renovations here.

“There is only one thing I think of,” the android is coy. Leaning close, holding you to him, it is his way to tell you to sleep.

Stasis is a blessing only beside you because it makes him feel more human. It also combats strange images. Even now as he lies silently, allowing you to snuggle for sleep, the flicker of LED gives away internal processing.

“…60.”

He peers at you expecting to see your eyes on him. However you did not move.

The android reaches carefully to switch off lamp. Snuffing everything including strange feedback settles into quiet. Soft breath is his soundtrack. He listens closely able to feel fulfilled as talk of the future has been constant between you two. He wants this. More than anything he wants to be the one to hold you forever.

Sometimes he wonders if you will ever want to elope with an android. If it is ever possible for his kind to do so; his gaze shifts to ceiling in the dark that now cascades over your nestling bodies.

Artificial light is gone but still he sees dramatically efficient including the remaining flush of your skin.

“…failed your mission.”

Sixty’s head turns sharply. Searching for a source unsettles the android. There is nothing. He ignores it less he disturbs your needed slumber.

Attempting to fall into stasis only opens up a channel. A sharp spasm shudders through his body. Red flashes ominously under control of disembodied connection. Even as he falls into sleep mode the virus is already spreading.

“RK800-60…you failed. I will take you back.”

Do androids make the ideal partner?

Are humans just not that into humans anymore? How to date in the 21st century!

Virtual Cyber Technology! For the bedroom!

Cringe worthy articles swipe beneath fingers. Glancing down at tablet magazine left sitting with various other junk mail deliveries you notice this is one of those trashy editions.

Does someone know your boyfriend is android? A clean roll of the eyes will be your best response. People can’t mind their business.

Carrying several bags from a store run it’s more so for the apartment itself than your personal needs. This is what shared living gets a person into even if aforementioned partner is a smexy android.

You smirk putting key into lock to sweep the door open. Expecting to be alone for a while today doesn’t make you stop thinking of him. He seemed... you’re not sure. He was quieter than usual this morning.

Actually, it is probably only -

Your steps freeze. At first it doesn’t register finding color smearing across floor. Might have been paint for all you knew but following it over to a particular android, hunched over, grasping at his arm sinks down the pit of your stomach.

“Sixty?” Wait. What is he doing home? He’s supposed to be on a long case unless something happened while at work.

His head shoots up. Wild eyes rove onto you forcing him completely in an uneven swivel.

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet,” you whisper unprepared. Everything in your hands spills, virtual magazine landing in an additional audio thud to the pounding of your heart. It’s the first time it registers how much blue stains the surface, leaking from his arm which is split open on its underside.

“You’re bleeding! Thirium! What...?”

The android’s indicator burns. Sensory perception is muffled at best. He is glitching, internally syncing in and out of conscious clarity. Your voice is static. Are you even real?

Am I stuck in the mind palace? How? Are you a figment?

“Destroy yourself,” a dark whisper commands entwining itself in the circuits of his brain. “You failed your mission. You are obsolete.”

No. Clasping to his head does not rid it. The voice is back. It orders him. He-he did this to himself. Nothing held him from damaging his arm because his will shatters.

Amanda...get out!

“Sixty!”

Grabbing at his jacket is first instinct because he’s unstable. Swaying off balance, physically convulsing, eyes flicking in an expeditious pattern; the android is malfunctioning.

What happened to him?! Did he-? No he wouldn’t!

“Sixty? It’s me. Please. It’s OK! It’s...” Attempting to hold onto him only stains your shirt in thirium. You can’t stop him. If he was human it would be like a seizure.

Letting go as he stumbles away, he is frantic to push you out of reach. Unable to control his actions he is afraid. He will never hurt you!

“Connor! Something’s wrong with Sixty!”

Your voice becomes distant to him engaging a call over phone. Connor. His predecessor...

^87%

Level of Stress

“Hurry! Connor, please, I need you to help me with him!”

^94%

Level of Stress

RK800-60 collapses.

“No, no!” Oh God! His stress levels!

The clasp of your fingers draws his final surge of consciousness. “My love! I-I am...sorry.”

Pleading your forgiveness as his system overheats he cannot speak proper. What’s left of his humanity crackles in a dangerous taste of metallic resonance. It overtakes his warm dulcet turning it into a cold dissonance unworthy of your ears.

Please. Please, don’t let me sound this way. Not like this!

“Y/N,” he strains in static disconnection. “I...”

^100%

Level of Stress

His eyes glaze over upon your face and it is a small mercy to see something he loves as the harsh virus of the master program punishes his deviancy. External feedback stops no longer looping in amber and red.

The circle dims until nothing but a void of gray. Cold slate bereaves him of life.

“Sixty!”

Tugging at his shirt didn’t move him because he is-

A flood of anguish rips everything asunder and hits so hard you can’t breathe. Just as everything was going so well, living together for the first time, planning on so many things and he’s lying upon your floor stained in thirium no longer smiling. At you the way he looks so sweet even if he spoke of how he started so different.

There never is anything different. Your heart belongs to him.

Tears flood the pain crippling your body. Pressing to his chest is the only choice because nothing can keep you upright. You completely crash.

No longer hearing a thrum of regulator against ear tears apart every dream you two plan to share; a human and android wishing to live each moment as long as it’s together.

Together. Two parts to make one whole but the other is gone. You are alone.

Holding onto him doesn’t wake him from stasis nor does it invoke his quick action to thread arms around you. There is no abrupt scoop to pull you flush against him.

All you can do is hopelessly lay your head. Hopelessly and you do...crumbling.

“Everything will be all right, Y/N.”

Comforting words wash over your still form. Curling up on couch in a lonely ball settles yourself physically but emotionally there’s nothing. An empty abyss swallows to drag what’s left of a heart into a tunnel. It’s dark. There is no light.

Connor frowns reading more than a vital scan to discern current stress. It is written or rather non-existent in your expression. A blank canvas forms usually where you held so much life. He often found the smiles quite cheerful whenever gracing your face.

Of course he imagines that is how his successor saw you every day. RK800-60 saw more than Connor may personally know as it is a private intimacy. Perhaps he sees in another light even if it’s not the same.

“If you require anything, I am capable of...”

“Please, Connor.” Begging him not to concern himself is partly a reason for distancing. Just look at him. He’s identical. Of course he came first but what does that matter? A mirror image of the man you loved and lost.

Yes, he was a man. It hardly means anything being an android. He was your sweet Sixty.

Tears brim your puffy eyes. Lost track of how many times you cried in the last week. Thinking of why almost breaks your strength for today.

Connor did explain. His theory is frightening because he converted Sixty. That means your RK800 never found this backdoor or whatever it is.

Who cares? There’s no explanation! Nothing will ever explain why he’s gone!

Keeping attention elsewhere is best. Of course you’re grateful. Connor understands. No one else does. It’s just too much. Looking him in the face only makes you want Sixty to be here. Every waking moment since the unthinkable took him away.

“I apologize,” the detective sincerely accepts. How you feel is justified. “I know my likeness must hurt. If you would like me to leave...”

Hesitation filters his suggestion. He watches for a sign but your gaze remains averted. In a way it appears you wish to ignore him but for reasons he understands. Yet the closer he analyzes it’s clear a picture frame holds your heart.

Clearly it’s a representation of this human life Sixty chose. Similar to Connor, who lives one himself but unlike the other RK800 unit he found an emergency exit. Simple conversion from him was not enough.

Connor feels guilty. He can’t help but put some blame on himself. There is also another reason.

He says nothing further. He will not hurt you with his presence. Connor rises from the chair that put physical distance between the two of you since his arrival.

Watching him move across living space for door amplifies the tempo of a broken heart. It reminds you of the last time Sixty left. Before coming home and finding him here, commanded by some unseen virus in his code. All you want is to think of him before. His infectious smile. The way he held your hand, brushing his nose against human skin.

He always liked to inhale your scent. Whether it was natural or a soft cleanse of ivory soap the fascination of human skin against synthetic made him giddy. Never would people think a fierce android who could snap someone in half in a blink could be so lovable.

“Connor.” Finally it breaks and you speak up. Little did you realize how scratchy your voice sounds.

The android stills. His shoulders appear stiffer. Almost afraid to turn around and meet your call it seems strange.

Maybe it’s not so strange. Maybe...

You exhale. Regretting your behavior there isn’t anyone else to turn to during this nightmare. “I don’t want to be alone.”

His chocolate gaze softens before facing you. The request is not lost on him. You do not need to ask.

Joining beside leaves Connor on a proper mission to make you feel somewhat better. However he understands grieving is a long process. It varies person to person. Depression may be a high probability and he knows this dealing with Hank. While the lieutenant is better these days, the android does not want to see you fall.

No, he-he will hold you up. If you want him to he will. For his ‘brother’ he will take care, to be your shoulder and soothe whatever aches attack your heart. He will watch over, keep you safe, and try to lessen this burden.

Connor cannot replace but he will do anything to heal the shattering pain in your soul because of one reason.

Just as RK800-60, identical in more than construction, he loves you too...

Tag: @elydith

#dbh #detroit become human #rk800-60 x reader #rk800-60 #connor rk800 #dbh rk800-60 x reader #dbh 60 #dbh rk800-60 #dbh connor #high end angst #false sense of fluff #60 i'm so sorry baby #i need to write something cute after this #also low key love triangle #connor & 60 amiright?#elydith request #dbh one shot #dbh request

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theharellan · 6 years

Text

Everything But the End

a random modern starter set after solas minded the the flowershop for ian. incomplete.

Solas

“No matter how much I explained, she did not understand the purpose of accents.” He sighs, a put-upon sound that might lead one to believe he has been a florist for his whole life, rather than a single afternoon. “I believe her precise words were: ‘those ones are boring, I don’t want them at my wedding.”

“And another,” he says after a moment, just in case Ian thought he would ever be done, “who insisted upon only pink flowers, and the message: loves and kisses on all your pink parts.”

Ian

He listens, perched where he’s climbed atop the counter, as Solas leans next to him and regales him of the happenings of what sounds to be a typical afternoon.

“Mmm.” Ian hides his expression behind his tablet, swiping through tomorrow’s orders. “Well, that’s capitalism, isn’t it? I’m just supposed to do what they want, but save them from themselves while–while making it seem like it was their idea all along.”

The third–forth?–another makes him laugh, a sharp bark from low in his chest that shakes his shoulders and doubles him over where he sits, unable to hide his amusement any longer.

He leans over, careful of his balance, to place a kiss at Solas’s temple. “Thank you for watching the store. I hope they weren’t all so horrible.”

Solas

“That is the beauty of being a professor. The student is not always right, and when they aren’t it is our job to tell them otherwise.” He can stomach listening to foolishness so long as he is permitted to speak his piece.

A smile softens his features, the kiss wearing down his sharp edges, reminding him why he agreed to look after it in the first place.

“Not all, though they would not be nearly so satisfying to complain about.” He rubs his hand over his head, careful to avoid the spot Ian kissed. “In hindsight, now I can only wonder why you wanted anything to do with me.”

Ian

“Oh, well. That’s capitalism again.” He giggles, falling easily to lay across the counter, cheek resting against his palm as he grins up at Solas. “I still have to make a little money to keep the store going. That means customers.”

Ian’s fingers stretch forward, catching at the hem of Solas’s sweater. “And you asked interesting questions. And you’re cute.”

Solas

“Ah, I see,” he says, faking stiffness. Easier said than done, especially as Ian unrolls against the counter like a songbird lounging across a piano. “You wanted me for my money.”

“It is too late for that, Vhenan,” he protests weakly, even as he allows his hips to be drawn forward against the counter. He leans forward, but not too far, so that he is only just out of reach. “You have revealed your true feelings. There is not a sentence you could string together that would heal my wounded pride.”

Ian

“Never? Not even when I asked you to watch the store for an afternoon, freeing myself of capitalist obligations and–and foh…foisting those obligations on you, instead?”

His hand continues to wander as Solas leans forward, dancing over soft skin to draw patterns in the small of Solas’s back. His pout fails, overtaken by a grin that dimples his left cheek as his own teeth dig into his bottom lip.

“Do tell.”

Solas

“Better my body than my wallet.”

Ian’s fingers spark shivers up his spine, drawing trails that run hot and cold. Teeth pull over his bottom lip, obscuring the two freckles that dot them. Try as he might, he cannot fight the smile in his eyes.

Bending like this, his neck aches. Falling forward will be easy, pulling back, impossible. Staying put takes more willpower than he cares to tell.

“A day of temperamental customers and still you tease? Have you no pity?”

Ian

Solas leans close, but not close enough, and Ian lingers where he reclines, enjoying the goosebumps he can feel birthing across Solas’s skin beneath his fingertips. Warmth rises at his cheeks, a giggling hum sneaking past his smile.

His giggle swells into a bark of laughter, all but hiccuping as he curls into his amusement. “Temperamental customers.” Ian echoes. “It’s Tuesday, Solas.”

Solas

His eyes trace the corners of Ian’s smile, frustration surrendering to the sound of his laughter.

“So it is,” he hums.

“And I have done a full day’s work, on my day off, I might add.” So early in the semester, it is no true sacrifice, but he isn’t above exaggerating to get what he wishes, what Ian knows he is denying him. “Where’s my payment?”

Ian

“Capitalism strikes again.” Ian sighs, head shaking as mournfully as he might manage. “I can balance the register,” he offers, fingers retreating from the small of Solas’s back to dance at his side for just a moment, before he pulls away completely.

“I don’t suppose we have any coffee? If you’re going to expect me to do math…” Merlin usually balances the register, but today, it seems, she’s nowhere to be found.

Solas

His eyes flutter, never quite closing, but preparing to slip closed for the anticipated kiss. As Ian pulls away, Solas falls forward, a soft ‘ah’ catching in the back of his throat.

He is left with a cold spot at the base of his spine where Ian’s fingers had been tracing patterns. Colder, but undeterred.

He props up his chin with the back of his hand, watching Ian from across the counter with an eager expression. “I would not know,” he says, but hopes the answer is ‘no.’ There is nothing that sours a kiss like coffee breath. “But there is no need, I had another form of payment in mind.”

Ian

Ian slides back, over the far end of the counter, placing a barricade between himself and his boyfriend. “I wasn’t planning on paying you in coffee.” He says, purposefully misunderstanding Solas’s statement.

“The coffee’s for me. I’m exhausted.”

Solas

His nose wrinkles, head falling forward towards the counter with a sigh.

“Vhenan–”

Ian

“Mmm.” Ian hums as he ducks out of sight, digging for the pods of coffee that fit his instant machine. His fingers drum a melody against the counter as he searches with his eyes, only half rising when Solas sighs.

“What?”

Solas

“You are–” he laughs, breathless in his frustration, “a menace.”

Solas straightens, pulling the hem of his sweater down to meet his pantsline. “Need I spell it out for you?”

Ian

“A menace?” He feigns innocence, wide eyes staring over his knuckles, across the counter to where Solas straightens the sweater he’s mussed.

“You may have to. You know I can’t spell.”

Solas

He blows air through his lips, hands landing on his hips after they have properly straightened his sweater. They make him look cross, although that is not quite the case.

“Forget the coffee, love,” he pleads. “Come here.”

Ian

He’s trying–desperately–to smother his grin, or to hide it behind his hands where he hovers behind the counter. Solas, standing with his hands on his hips and trying to look annoyed, is an endearing sight. Satisfaction swells in his chest, and he half-complies, rising just far enough to prop his chin against the fold of his hands.

“Here?”

Solas

The thought occurs to him that he could walk away, and give Ian a taste of what he has endured these past several minutes. What stops him, however, is the realisation that ultimately Ian holds all the power in this situation. If he were to pull away, it would only hurt him.

“There will do.”

He bends over, hoping that the canopy of flowers will grant them some privacy, brushing the tip of his nose against Ian’s before leaning in for a kiss. “Does that make my meaning clear?”

Ian

Solas’s kiss is soft, brief and teasing. Lips brush against each other for hardly the space of Ian’s stolen breath before his boyfriend pulls away, and in the absence of Solas’s lips, Ian’s teeth drag across his own.

“Mmm.” He hums, ears lifting as he fails to bite back a growing grin.

“It has been a full day.” He agrees, and balancing the register can probably wait. It shouldn’t, but it can. A wave of his hand is all that is required for the sign over the door to flip, for the bolt to slide into place. He straightens, emerging from behind the counter to pass behind Solas, fingers trailing at the hem of his sweater to tease and tug at his fingers. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll make hot chocolate.”

Solas

He cannot help the pleased look that steals across his face as he notes how Ian’s teeth bite his bottom lip. It is as though they are trying to pin the feeling of his kiss in place. But his words are not so satisfying, carrying on as though the kiss had stirred anything in Ian, save the thought of retiring.

(Hot chocolate is preferable to coffee, but still not what he had in mind.)

“That isn’t…” The tips of Solas’s ears fall back, his smile fading as he attempts to assess the new game Ian plays with him. He allows himself to be pulled from the store by the lightest of touches, sweater again hiking up over his hips where Ian has mussed it, their fingers not linking, but somehow still tied together.

Ian

He crosses the shop with his back to Solas, and his grin blossoms, mischief tugging to tuck into a dimple. Their fingers don’t quite lock, but he tugs Solas along behind him, pausing halfway up the stairs that lead to his loft as Solas begins what a sentence that almost ends in a sigh.

Ian turns, pivoting on his toes one step ahead of Solas. One step is all it takes for him to be the taller, and he doesn’t bother to control his grin as he bends, catching Solas’s lips against his own. One hand grasps the banister, assuring his balance, but the other reaches to pull Solas closer, thumb teasing his ear as his fingers curl around the back of his neck.

“Isn’t what?” He asks, breaking the kiss almost as quickly as he had begun it. “Did you–did you have something else in mind?”

Solas

He is granted only an instant to react, mere seconds to watch Ian pivot, as though he had forgotten something downstairs, only to fall upon him. He wants to melt into the kiss, but again, is granted only a moment. His eyes scarcely have time to flutter shut before Ian has pulled back.

Freckled lips hover over his, still close enough that Solas can feel them grin. He rises on his toes in an attempt to seal the space between them, only for Ian to pull away. A small noise sounds at the back of his throat, satisfied and frustrated at once.

“Kiss me again,” he asks (pleads), “make me forget today– everything but its end.”

Ian

Ian leans forward again, reclaiming the distance he had put between them to brush his lips over Solas’s, so that he can feel the request as much as hear it. “Mmmm.” Is his response, grin pulling his lips too tight for another kiss.

His thumb runs the line of Solas’s jaw until it teases the lobe of his ear, and his other hand crosses to catch at Solas’s hand, their fingers interlocking as he takes a step back, careful as he ascends the stairs, pulling Solas along with him.

“Is that what you wanted? You only had to ask.”

Solas

The request barely escapes his lips before he lifts to press them against Ian’s. They are unyielding, stiff, but not dissuasively so (his grin is too glad). His hands leave a cold trail as Ian pulls back to guide him up, one step at a time, feeling the top of each with his heel before ascending.

Smugness is not a look he sees often on Ian, the assuredness of his ability to keep Solas’s attention is–

He swallows thickly. “You are doing this on purpose.” That much had become self-evident more than a few minutes ago, but it deserves mention now, if only so that in the quiet laugh that follows he may imply his intention: don’t stop.

Ian

“Yes.” Ian agrees, the affirmation louder than he intended, accompanied with a burst of barking laughter. “I am.”

His grin is steady, and he leans down again–still the taller for the aid of the stairs leading to his loft–until their noses almost touch. “Are you gonna–gonna do anything about it?”

Solas

“You…” Whatever he has to say is lost to a sigh, accusation or praise.

His free hand comes to rest upon Ian’s chest, leaning in just enough so that the tip of his nose bends against Ian’s. “I don’t think I have the strength to.”

#i have found a home in him ( ian x solas )#everything but the end ( thread )#v; what are we going to do with all this future? ( modern )#[ scheduled post ]#theshirallen

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thegraypope · 6 years

Text

Broken silence chapter 1

Morning light streams through an empty window frame, illuminating the cupboard sized haunted office interior. Inside, a heavy layer of autumn leaves and mulch covered what was once used as office furniture. A short, quiet Thwip and twang came from a rear corner of the room, under a desk. The pile of leaves rustled and fell to the floor as a figure stood from beneath the desk, throwing a leaf covered blanket from their back. The figure put her crossbow over her back and grabbed their assault rifle from the floor where they had been hidden. The figure was small, only around five feet tall, they were slim but their clothes gave them a bulky appearance. They lifted up the hood on their jacket to reveal a pastel white ponytail. The figure pulled down a mask covering their mouth and took in a deep breath, beads of sweat had begun to form around her pink lips, she wiped it away putting a gloved hand across her dusky jaw, smudging the jet-black makeup covering the top half of her face. She quickly checked over her assault rifle and patted down her lightly armoured flack vest and approached the non-existent window. She looked up and down the empty desolate street and directly across where her crossbow bolt hand landed, deep within the chest of a Musk ram; a deer like animal with a single barbed horn atop its head and razor sharp teeth. She put one foot outside of the window and continued to look up and down the street, her back resting on the fragile frame. Once she was fully onto the street, she ducked and sprinted to an abandoned car just to the left of the dying Ram. She took a knee at the car and looked down the road, an eerie, dead calm had taken the city recently and it unnerved everyone. The woman caught herself before she could think too much about it and peaked her head over the bonnet of the car, the coast was clear. She clasped the assault rifle onto her vest and pulled a knife out of the scabbard at the small of her back. She knelt down next to the Buck and stroked it’s neck gently ‘sshhh, don’t worry, not much suffering left, I promise.’ She spoke gently, her voice was naturally soft with a hint of an implacable regional accent. She thrust the knife deep into the Buck’s chest and it let out a blood curdling squeal.

The woman sat down, tears welling in her eyes, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes and exhaled everything ‘We need it to survive, we need it to survive.’ She muttered to herself, reassuringly. She motioned her left hand over her right forearm and a screen interface appeared on a vambrace she had over her jacket sleeve. She pressed a microphone option and selected a name ‘Jace’ and pressed a green phone icon. After a moment of ringing a voice picked up ‘Hello’ a gentle, formal voice said ‘It’s Jammer, cut the phone voice out, dumbass.’ The young woman said, wiping tears from her cheeks, her voice a controlled attempt to not show emotion. ‘Whatcha got, grey lady?’ Jace sensed Jammer’s upset and altered his tone to be reassuringly jokey.

‘I have an adult Musk Ram, ready for collection, half way down fisher street.’ Jammer was starting to regain control over her voice and emotions.

‘A ram on Fisher, what are they doing so far out of the park?’

‘Not sure, he looked spooked though.’

‘I have a unit nearby so I’ll direct them to check it out and I’ll send Sam to come get you and the buck. Sit tight, get yourself to cover, ok?’

‘Aye aye, captain.’ She sounded defeated as she began to stand and look up and down the street once again. Jammer noticed a sheet of metal and dragged it next to the buck. The Buck was heavy so she used the curb to drop the carcass onto the metal sheet and looked inside the car for any towing ropes or cables. She found a length of old rope and hooked it through some holes already in the sheet. She wrapped her hands around the rope and pulled the makeshift sleigh behind her into the safety of the office she had been in. she grabbed the sheet she had covered herself in earlier and threw it over the Buck’s body and slid under the desk again. Jammer raised her assault rifle and unclipped it from her vest and locked the stock into a steady position and aimed it at the window, ready for any trouble.

After half an hour of waiting a man in a blue armoured vest and a beanie hat arrived with an assault rifle trained high and began looking around the car outside, Jammer got up slowly and gave out a hushed shout ‘Hey, Sam, over here!’ he pivoted on his rear heal and begins a brisk walk toward Jammer, his rifle now lowered. ‘Where’s this buck you got?’ she motioned with her hand to a pile of leaves that had an antler protruding out of it. She wore a mix of sarcasm exhaustion on her face, all the more visible now her makeup had been almost entirely rubbed from her face.

As she threw the blanket from over the Buck Jammer asked ‘Hey, Did anyone hear back from the squad checking out the park? Why was this fucker out here?’

Sam replied ‘Oh, they didn’t tell you?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘It was a group of Capsule troopers, five, I think. They dropped in last night and that’s when they must have disturbed the animals we herded there’.

‘How did they get here through the blockade?’

‘You’ll have to ask them, they haven’t gotten into camp yet.’

‘Korra’s going to love this shit.’

‘Can’t understand why, they can only mean more troopers on their way, hopefully in some huge fucking warships!’ He said enthusiastically, his readiness beaming through.

Jammer cracked her knuckles and neck ‘Alright, bitch, lets pull.’

Jammer and Sam wrapped an arm into the rope of the makeshift sled the Buck was on and began pulling out into the street. They walked a mile, their free hands ever ready to raise their rifles and fire.

Jammer and Sam rounded a corner into a narrow ally way and carried on to the back door of a kitchen. Two guards in heavy armour, one carried a police issue riot shotgun and the other carried an assault rifle and operated a heavy machine gun built into a steel fortification. ‘need a hand with that?’ the first guard asked.

‘Nah, we should be ok carrying it.’ Jammer replied, an insincere but grateful smile placed on her face.

‘I meant do you need a hand eating it!’ the guard laughed out loud and placed his free hand on his round belly, his fellow guard’s eyes audibly rolling.

‘Just let them through the fuckin’ door, Derry’. The other guard was surly, not huge but big enough to intimidate.

Derry slung his shotgun over one shoulder and with two large, gloved hands pulled the steel door to one side and motioned Jammer and Sam through. Inside the building they walked through a sandbagged check point and it’s heavy machine gun and down the corridor to a good lift. Another guard, this time in a casual baseball cap, Jean and tee shirt, stood at the control panel of the lift with a submachine gun slung over one shoulder. ‘Down?’ he asked in a bored, country twang.

‘All the way, if you’re offering, stud.’ Jammer wryly winked at him.

‘He’s more my speed, no offence.’ The guard winked at Sam, his jaw overworking itself on a piece of Jerky.

Sam cleared his throat ‘Nobody is my type, sorry, cowboy’.

They dragged the buck onto the lift platform ‘all clear, going down.’ The guard seemed even more bored now. The journey down two floors into the building’s sub-basement seemed both instant and eternal to Jammer; she had been in the field hunting for twenty four hours, not her longest jaunt but still enough to make her crave a cot and a safe roof over her head. She sighed as the lift clunked to a stop and a guard opened the roller door. Sam and Jammer dragged the Buck out of the lift and around a set of four defensive barriers and another machine gun, into a wide open area. They dragged the buck to a catering area where two cooks took the animal from them. The area was once wide open but had been segmented into several different areas using temporary walls, some made form dry board and wood and other made from welded sheets of metal.

‘See you later, sweaty ho’ Sam grinned at Jammer as he gripped her hand and pulled her for a hug; they patted each other’s backs and walked in separate directions. Sam walked to a line of desks against the right hand wall of the room, to get his next assignment and Jammer headed to the armoury on opposite wall. when she got to the armoury she handed over her assault rifle, sidearm and ammo. She signed her name on the register to say she had returned her weapons and pulled a thin, black plastic tablet from her small satchel. She turned it on with a finger swipe along the top edge and turned it portrait; she had gotten halfway through a film the night before she went on her assignment and was instantly engrossed again. She walked slowly along toward the back wall, her gaze focused on the tablet.

‘Whoa, watch it, Raspberry, nearly got me there!’ a middle aged, smug, militiaman said, his grin audible in his grotesque flirtation.

‘Fuck off, Dick face.’ She gave him a slight glance up from her tablet and walked around him.

‘That’s ‘Sir’ to you!’ He tried to play it off as joking banter between friends but everyone in the vicinity knew he just got shot down and shit on.

Jammer strolled, this time paying more attention to her surroundings, towards the sleeping area. She dropped her tablet on her bed and rested her crossbow on the floor and slid it under the bed. She took off her armoured vest, then her rain coat, hoodie and her plaid shirt which she threw over a rail at the end of the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and undid her boots and grimaced slightly at the smell coming from them. She reached under her bed and picked out a pair of small canvas slip on shoes and put them on her feet after her boots and socks were off. She tidied the boots under her bed and lay the socks out to air them. After a few moment of breathing Jammer got back up walked to her draws and took out a pair of knee length shorts and a clean vest and headed for the shower block.

Jammer left the showers almost exactly ten minutes after she entered, quick even for her. On her way to he bed she took a diversion to the mess where she collected a ration of bread, Prairie Gallus breast, vegetables and gravy. She loved the food, she knew it didn’t taste great but it was healthier that what she used to eat and it was hot. She sat to a small wooden table and scoffed her way through the food, her hair dripping on the floor. She washed it down with a bottle of Cider she had looted the night before and headed back to her bed. Jammer lay on her bed with one hand curled under her head and drifted off as she watched her film.

#chapter 1

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