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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

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I have a Crack idea for the Sparkling of Unicron AU. Basically, Jack's dad is Unicron, who ghosted June to avoid paying child support. When Team Prime comes to Earth & meet the kids, Jack & Optimus team up to track down their dad and get the child support payments by force.

Jack here is still fleshy & has the same personality, but can basically do what a resurrected Megatron could do in Canon, just on a smaller scale. He can't control Megatron though, his will is too strong. Also, his blood is infused with Dark Energon.

When asked as to why she would date the literal God of Chaos, June states that he "had a winning personality". (We all know you like robots, June.)

I'm just going to answer yours and this anon's request at the same time since it will make my life easier. Previous part here

Little Siblings

After the whole debacle with being exiled for a time, Optimus began to heal. It was a slow process and it was not easy by any means. He had been abandoned, treated poorly, and left for scrap by everyone but his creator and the children. Thus it took time, a great deal of it. However during this healing process, Optimus noticed something new in the children.

Firstly, they fought bitterly in his defense if one of his team so much as looked in his general direction wrong. Secondly they often refused to leave his side, emitting a strange set of waves that were so similar to EM fields but so foreign. Then lastly Optimus felt a vague... connection between him and the children. It shouldn't be. They weren't Cybertronian and couldn't have spark bonds. And yet the closer he grew to them and the more he came to see them as kin, the stronger this heretical and impossible bond grew.

Not only that, but when he was around them, he felt more stable. His form didn't flare and break apart as often. His spark remained more controlled and he could keep his physical form together with less difficulty. They made him feel safe in a way that was not too dissimilar from how Unicron wrapped him in love and care. At the same time, the urge to protect them with every fiber of his being was just as strong as their desire to protect him. They were young, they were small, and they were fragile. He thought perhaps all the emotions he was feeling and the connection that seemed to be there might be because he had been away from his team for so long and was out of touch. He almost questioned his father, wondering if Unicron had anything to do with it, but he didn't, not while he was still upset with his maker.

Then the children had to go behaving weirdly.

After his little flare that left the children incapacitated and led to his exile, there were little things that were off about them. It wasn't much so the team wrote it off and Optimus didn't even notice as he worked to restore his broken bonds and the trust between him and his team. But as the wounds healed and Optimus reconnected with his team, the children's differences became more obvious.

Rafael had an aura around him. The team couldn't sense it, they weren't attuned to Unicron's power as Optimus was. Rafael's entire being radiated strength of spirit in a way not too dissimilar from Optimus. It was almost like he too was struggling to keep his being in line, doing everything in his power to keep his form held together. The child even began to speak in the same way Optimus did when his body was too shattered to form words. He didn't seem to know he was doing it, but his emotions were clear as day with how freely they flowed from him. It was startling, especially when not long after that Rafael's eyes began to glow a startling blue whenever his emotions were projected, often becoming clearer in intent.

Miko was partially similar in that her eyes began to glow whenever her emotions got strong enough to warrant concern. At those times she would gain an aura of fear around her. It didn't bother Optimus too much considering he projected the same aura naturally when he wasn't trying to blend in. However it made him more and more concerned when Bulkhead began to shy away in terror whenever Miko got particularly mad. She didn't understand why the team were suddenly so wary of her, nor did the team know why they kept so clear of her on instinct.

Optimus knew, or rather he had an inkling, one he was growing more prevalent within him as Jack showed signs too.

It had been small and hardly noticeable amidst the flow of battle, but in a moment of stress Jack had seemingly controlled a Vehicon Optimus had been near certain was dead. The boy didn't seem to notice as he fought to keep his fellow humans safe, but Optimus noticed. How could he not? The waves of his father's power were far more intense than anything he had ever felt from an organic.

Thus after a few additional weeks of watching the children project these odd abilities, he reached out to his maker with an inquiry.

Optimus: The children are showing abilities that have your touch evident in them.

Uniron: Impossible. I have no heralds among the humans.

Optimus: Are you sure Creator? They are not like me, that is certain. However the feeling of your power is unmistakable.

Unicron: I haven't made a herald since Megatron, and I have no memory of-

Optimus: Creator?

Unicron: It seems I forgot something rather important.

Optimus: Speak plainly Creator, what did you do?

Unicron: It was during a waking sleep, one I hardly remember. However I for a time walked this earth in an organic form in a mixed delirium of emotion.

Optimus: You didn't.

Unicron: I may have ended up creating three lifeforms by accident, two by throwing around burst of power and one from a one night stand.

Optimus: Primus... you can't be serious.

Unicron: I am dead serious.

Optimus: Frag.

With the knowledge that his Creator had gone out of his way to do things while only partially aware, Optimus hurriedly moved to confirm these claims. First he went straight to the children, his frame flaring and coming apart partially in his hurry. The team were worried and watched on in growing concern as he questioned Rafael, asking for the circumstances of his birth. Rafael quickly confirmed that he had been found as a baby and adopted by his current family and that he had no real issues with it. Then upon asking Miko the same question, he received a similar answer that left Optimus terrified to ask Jack what he needed to.

It could all have been coincidence and a bad case of Optimus's outburst affecting the children in odd ways. He had seen stranger things, perhaps it was all just one big mess up. However that hopeful wish was blown directly out of the water when June was called into base and Optimus asked her a question he feared the answer to.

Optimus: Mrs. Darby, would you by chance be willing to tell me who Jack's father is?

June: Oh? I don't mind, but I couldn't really give you an answer. He was a nice guy who told me his name was Uni Cron. Odd name and pronounced very strangely, he also had some trouble with memory, but he was sweet and treated me well.

Optimus: Why is he not here assisting in raising Jack?

June: Honestly I don't know. He lived with me for a few months, we got to know each other, we spent a night together, and then he was gone the next day. I never heard from him again.

Optimus: ... I believe you may have possibly had relations with my Creator.

June: What? Last I checked, you were a giant robot and your Creator was Unicron-!

June: ... Oh.

Optimus: ... If it is any consolation, I was unaware I had a brother.

Not a soul or spark could utter a word as everyone stood there dumbly for a long moment. Then Optimus put forward his whole theory, to which the children stared at him with wide eyes but said nothing. It was silent, deafeningly so and everyone just.... scattered to think about it for a while, leaving Optimus, June, and the children alone.

There was plenty of nervous staring involved, but slowly and with a great deal of caution, Optimus began to talk with the children and June. He told them of his own creation and his experiences with thier Creator and in turn he told them what he could of their abilites. He offered to teach them and guard them, while also warning of possible side effects such as long life or even partial immortality. It was a very strained discussion even though Optimus was bound to the children by what he now knew to be siblings bonds, but after a while they figured things out.

June insisted on being called mom as soon as she figured out that Optimus had been left to fend for himself so soon after his creation. It didn't matter to her that Optimus was millions of years old and had watched the rise and fall of civilizations, he was a child who never knew the love of a parent and she intended to rectify that especially now that her son and Optimus were confirmed to be related. He initially tried to object, but June reaching out to pat his cheek in a comforting manner left him bewildered but strangely pleased.

Jack was left more startled than anything else and doubting his reality. Optimus attempted to soothe him with calming words and the touch of his field, but Jack wasn't having it. He needed time, and that was acceptable. Miko was on board with the thought of being siblings almost immediately and took to being related to Unicron without issue. She called it her "hero arc" or something along those liens and proceeded to make a show of pretending to have magic powers. It made the tension in the room lessen, especially when Rafael merely adjusted his glasses, looked up at Optimus and murmured.

"So what if I'm related to Unicron? So are you, and you are one of the best bots out there. Besides, we are family now"

Family. It was a word Optimus had difficulty pinning after all that had happened. Bumblebee was family, he was Optimus's sparkling even if their relationship was still a little iffy. Ratchet was family, he had been family for vorns. The team were family, but mainly because they needed to. Optimus had no family by blood aside from his maker. His "siblings" were of Primus, not of Unicron. They were cousins that he treated like blood kin. He loved all his family, but there was something so very novel about having blood related kin right before him.

Of course then when he reached out to his Creator, he found their bond silent. He sent question after question, wondering why and asking for answers, but he received nothing. Unicron was not heeding him, quite likely because he didn't want to deal with his newfound creations.

Optimus was a special case, he was intentional, he was the one and only creation Unicron had poured all his attention into. He was loved form day one, but the children? They were accidents, and Unicron had never been quick to love when it came to those not bound to him. Optimus knew this well, he could read his creator's spark just by letting his base nature take over for a moment. However he had no intention of letting Unicron go without at least speaking to his children. The children needed their father. Optimus had been denied his creator his entire existence up until earth, the children deserved better, or if nothing else the the chance to see where they came from.

Thus he began spending every waking moment hounding his creator and digging around to find another way to Unicron's core if his creator saw fit to continue to remain silent.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #tfp kids #the sparkling of unicron au #unicron #he's trying hard to avoid paying that child support #too bad his eldest son isn't going to let him off the hook #unicron has no excuses now that he's partially awake #no more avoiding the consequences of his own actions!

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inactive-luv · 3 years

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The Absence of Rain

"the absence of rain is when good things are most present."

the absence of rain

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N meets a stranger in the rain

Pairing: (Spencer Reid x Autistic!Fem!Reader)

Details: I hope I did my best to convey proper Autistic traits; my ASD is not the same as the readers' character, the same way no one's ASD or Autism is the same.

Category: fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Autism

A/N: I decided to make the reader Autistic. This was originally just a short story I made in English lit class my senior year, but upon rereading it, I decided to use the same prompt to write this fic

...

It's two in the morning. The Virginian rain drizzles as it has for the past two days without stop. She loved the rain, even if it was a sign of sadness or sorrow. She misunderstood it when people said the absence of rain was when good things happened. Until tonight when the theory was proven very, very true.

...

She walked from her job down to the bus stop at two in the morning when it started to rain harder than the usual drizzle from earlier in the evening. She spent time analyzing the splashing of droplets, echoing in her head after a long day. Her head raised to watch the water slap against the glass roof above her.

She stayed like that for a while, soothed after a stressful day by the calming aspects of the rain. She was watching and waiting, sitting in her bus stop seat. Her hands folded in each other to scratch lightly at her fingers, bundles of nerves across her skin aching to be touched.

She wants to stay here forever and quietly wishes for a late bus before her peace is interrupted when she sees a dark figure move across the station bridge. Her face turns puzzled, trying to analyze the new person in her space.

He looks tall from a distance. That's the first thing she notices about his body before she investigates further. She thinks about his satchel bag and his converse shoes, how he holds his umbrella in his right hand, and a book in his left. She can't make out the cover, but it must be pretty slim from how fast he blows through it.

She thinks about what would happen if he would walk over to her. She's seen him only a few seconds, yet she feels drawn or compelled to wonder further. He steps to his side, adjusting his stance, and his face falls under the light of the bus station for a second.

His jawline, eyes, lips, and everything about him leaps out immediately, catching even more of her attention. He must have felt her gaze over him, like an ocean wave crashing over a beach. A certain persistence to discover makes her eyes stay glued to the dark figure.

He swallows his lips before turning to see if she was maybe looking at someone else. He expected it. He expected not to be expected of. So when her eyes stayed fixated on him, he was a little curious. And during this time, all she can think about is if he came closer. Suppose he could turn to her so she could find the thing. The thing about him that made him so compelling.

And he does it. He starts to walk over with his book in one hand and the other in his pocket. The sounds she once found comfort in faded as he walked up to her, and everything turned to silence. The soft patter of the rain, once saturated and abstract ringing through her head, turned pale and hushed.

He watches how her eyes still stay attached to him, almost obsessively. A silence fills the space between the two before he breaks it so haphazardly, she can't help but shudder a little.

"Excuse me?" So she turns her head and is met looking up to the dark figure. He's much taller now that he's closer to her, and his hair is long. Long hair so obviously stretched under the rain, with soft curls ever so innocently framing his face.

He doesn't know what to say after that. He couldn't make out exactly who she was or who he was even expecting but, she was beautiful. He finally took notice of the more calming features about her rather than the creepy stare. He saw how her skin glowed, and her lips parted slightly as if in deep thought.

During this time, he notices the silence forming again, and he breaks it once more before he can hear her voice. "Uhm, can I sit?" He murmurs as an excuse he perhaps too eagerly came up with, taking notice of her puzzled expression. "Yeah, here, let me move my bag." Her voice dribbles out of her mouth, laced with an extensive kindness that intrigued him incredibly.

He mumbles a small 'thank you' back while he undoes his umbrella and takes a seat next to her. His head is facing the street now, but he still feels her eyes on him. It takes him a minute to swallow the lump in his throat before he turns to her again, craning his neck to meet her eye-line looking up at him.

His eyes meeting hers makes her pause for a moment before hastily averting her attention from him to anything in her way. The grass peeking through the concrete or the way the rain filled the puddles on the sidewalk.

And just like that, the silence, as well as it faded out, fades back in. The soft sounds of rain climb back through her ears to fill her brain again. Easily and slowly, she listens to the buckling of the stranger's bag, as if he was trying to make an as little sound as possible not to annoy her. But the sound doesn't upset her. It calms her.

It intertwines with the rain in a calming way. Everything blends smoother than she expected. She expected sounds to scare her as much as they usually do meeting a stranger, but the sound of his skin against the leather, and the pitter-patter of the rain, calm her.

So she's at peace when he breaks the silence once more. Although now, his words don't break the silence as much as they seep into the silent sounds, merging to form a tranquil melody. She realizes she could get used to his voice.

"Where are you coming from at," He looks down at his watch, over his sleeve for convenience, a trick she notices because she does the same thing, "two in the morning?" His tone acts as if he made most of his living in the night; the calmness, even in such an abundant presence of darkness, leads her to believe he'd done this a million times.

"I lost track of time in the library." He smiles again, "I thought only I did that." She smiles back at him and feels her cheeks start to swell and pink. He listens to her words; there weren't any libraries open this late at night he of all people should have known that.

He contemplates asking; further, he really wants to. He wants to listen to her voice again and again over and over because, unlike anyone else's, he thinks he'll never get tired of it. But he doesn't pester; he waits, hoping she'd further the conversation herself.

Little does he know she's thinking the same thing. She was thinking about every question he's asked and every question she wants to ask him. But he was a stranger even if she hoped he wasn't for much longer.

It takes a lot of strength for her to continue the conversation but noticing his peaked interest, her tone of voice heightens, "I was working at the university, that's why I was out so late." His questions are answered and followed by more, "Really? What do you do?" he wanted to know everything about the mysterious girl at the bus stop, and she was willing to answer every one of his asks.

"I help my friend who's a professor there, but I'm a medical examiner." His eyes light up, "Really? That's cool." He tries to keep his voice calm, but it trickles out so quickly, and this time she can catch his investment, and it gets easier to talk to him as if she'd known him a hundred years.

"I look at dead bodies all day. You think that's cool?"

"Well, to be fair, so do I,"

"Oh! Are you a serial killer?" Her best shot at sarcasm was successful, he laughed.

Like a modern orchestra erupting into its triumphant climax, the rain, the air, his laugh soothes her ears until she's blessing the world for her ability to hear. It's a kind of sound that reverberates in her mind and stores itself to her happiest emotion.

A type of sound she wants to hear for the rest of her life, but sadly, all of this excitement at once becomes too much too quickly, and her smile slightly fades while his head is turned.

She didn't have too much trouble with sound, so her anxiety heightened slightly when she became overwhelmed. A type of overwhelmed he could sense before he tried to lighten her mood. "No, I just catch them," He turns to reach into his bag, swiftly pulling his federal badge out and showing it to her.

She reads his badge quietly, "Doctor Spencer Reid." That's the first time she learns his name. A doctor working with the FBI. She reciprocates his actions and reaches into her pocket to pull out a card. On it, her name and medical license. "Doctor Y/N Y/L/N." A doctor working in a hospital.

"I'm in medicine. What about you?" Spencer clears his throat and holds up three fingers in one hand, clutching the card tightly in his other. "Chemistry, mathematics, and engineering." Her eyes widen, and her mouth forms a small 'o'; he just twists his face as if he was used to that answer.

And then, abnormally sudden, the rain started to let up, proving good things do happen in the absence of rain.

...

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siriushxney · 3 years

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⊱┊ searing light | chapter one

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow and bone

— wordcount ; 1.7k

— warnings ; cursing, talks of war, no dream yet but he will appear somewhere in the next few parts!

series masterlist | next

the fold was scarier then you could've ever imagined — it stretched for miles upon miles, casting a shadow down upon where it stood. down onto the land of ravka. for centuries the blackness of it stood tall — no way to get through, under, or over safely. but despite the risks and dangers, with war raging on both sides of the country — you had no choice to go through for resources.

climbing out of the back of the truck, you could feel the rocks digging into the soles of your feet as you walked alongside the rest of your squadron — the cheap leather boots that were supplied to you and the rest of the first army, doing nothing to shield your feet from the rough and jagged ground. but despite the aching state that the boots left your feet in at the end of the day, you reminded yourself daily that it could've been worse. you could have been on the next skiff to enter the fold — the chance of coming back being slim to none.

anything was better than going into the fold.

“Y/L/N, why don’t you keep the move on?” another cartographer bumped their shoulder into your own, knocking you out of your tense state, and urging you to continue moving down towards your new camp.

everyone in ravka knew what the fold looked like — it was hard not to when it stood at unreachable heights and stretched the length of the country. but despite this, you had never been this close. no one ever spoke of the coldness it radiated, bringing a chill and goosebumps to anyone that dared to near it. and the thing that no one could have prepared you for at all was the sounds.

the sounds of the creatures that lived inside of the black barrier, screeching at deafening volumes and with such ferocity that it could send even the bravest of man or woman running for the hills.

with a deep breath and encouragement for yourself running through your head like a mantra, you pushed forward, closer and closer to the fold.

“Y/N!” you stopped in your tracks — the other cartographers passing you with quick feet and watchful eyes. turning, you caught a glimpse of a boy that you knew all too well — wilbur. while he was also in the first army, he was named a tracker due to his brilliant mind and tracking skills — skills that proved to be beneficial numerous times, making him one of, if not the best tracker in all of ravka. “you know, for a little mapmaker like yourself, you sure do have quick feet,” wilbur threw his arms around your shoulders, pulling you to continue walking beside him.

“you know, for an amazing tracker like yourself, you do stick out like a sore thumb — what if you're on enemy territory? they're gonna spot you from miles away, you tree.”

“I’ll have you know that despite my large stature, I’m quite good at blending into my surroundings — that and I don’t wear bright colours like them,” wilbur halted, standing awkwardly as he watched the group clothed in bright purple, blue, and red observed and trained with eagle like eyes — their hands drawn to grasp in front of their body as they waited their turn to strike the dummy.

them — the grisha.

grisha were people, much like you and wilbur, who were gifted with abilities like no other — abilities that could either take, or save a man's life. there were three orders of the grisha — the corporalki, the order of the living and the dead, who had people known as heartrenders, healers, and tailors; the materialki, the order of fabrikator’s who had people known as durasts and alkemi; and then there was etherealki, the order of the summoners, who had people known as squallers, inferni, and tidemakers.

but there was one being that you had heard about — someone they named the darkling. a grisha who did not possess an ability like any other — instead, he had the ability to summon and control darkness itself. a walking horror story with the ability to wipe out dozens if he wished.

he came from a line of them — a line consisting of only his families blood.

“I can feel their ego wafting onto us from here,” wilbur whispered slightly, not wanting any of them to hear due to their nature to lash out at people they considered ‘lower’ than themselves.

“no kidding,” you looked around the area in wonder, before looking down to your hands — a map that the head cartographer had handed each and every one of you before you arrived at the camp, displayed your tent being directly where the grisha now stood. “wait… this is where my tent is supposed to be, is it not?” you spun slightly as if it would magically appear.

wilbur stopped your spinning, and guided you towards a different area of the base. “they moved our tents this way, in order for the grisha to have more room — as if the entire upper region of the base wasn’t enough for them,” he couldn't help but grumble out now that he was farther away from the gifted individuals, throwing one more glare before looking ahead once more.

you casted one more look over your shoulder as you followed beside him — one grisha catching your eye for a moment before she turned away. the purple of her uniform — something that they called a kefta, catching your eye instantly alongside the grey embroidering on it. she was a durast — someone who could manipulate things such as steel and glass.

as much as grisha were dangerous and cold — they had a knack for looking their best at every waking moment, with a style that could kill. quite literally.

—

many of the first army stood shoulder to shoulder as they were awaiting orders — the general standing overhead with a paper in hand that no doubt held the list of names of the unfortunate people that would be ushered onto the skiff that would cross the fold.

wringing your hands nervously, you waited for your name or wilburs to be called, hoping and praying to any saint that would bother to listen. wilbur dug his elbow into your shoulder lightly, drawing your attention to him. “we’re among the youngest batch of the first army — we’re in the clear,” he spoke his words with such certainty. but as much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn't.

“I don’t know… I have a weird feeling, wil,” you gave him a serious look, only to be brushed off with a roll of his eyes. “I’m serious — somethings not right.”

wilbur brought a hand to your forehead, feeling for any sign of heat that could indicate sickness, before lowering it slowly and leaning it. “maybe you should rest — I think all those waffles you’ve eaten are making you fall ill,” while his joke was lighthearted, you couldn't help but sigh.

sigh over the fact that he didn’t believe you in the slightest, and sighing at the fact that you haven’t had a full meal, let alone waffles, in over five years — merely table scraps left over from the grisha’s wonderful and elegant meals they were served daily.

“attention soldiers! tomorrow is the first journey through the fold of this season, and we are taking volunteers!” the room laughed at that, the general included — no one sought out to enter the fold — you were selected and that was final. “knowing that none of you will volunteer however, I have taken it upon myself to select a group of you that will accompany the second army across the fold.”

the first army was full of people like you and wilbur — mapmakers, trackers, and ordinary soldiers that could barely hold their own in a fight. mere children when they entered the army, chosen based on how healthy they were. if you could walk, talk, and breathe normally — you were selected.

the second army however, is what the battles were one with — with grisha only ranks, they dominated against the fjerdans and the shu, two nations that had it out for ravka.

no one could bring themselves to laugh this time around — all too weary and nervous to crack a joke.

“entering the fold tomorrow will be… malyen oretsev, atlas cooper, wilbur soot...” you turned to wilbur in horror. “please come to the docks at 1600 for deployment. that will be all soldiers,” the general stepped down from the stage, leaving a room full of shocked, scared, and relieved soldiers.

he tried to put on a strong face for you, but you could see through it as if it were glass. the man that he was today had retreated into the scared and small boy who could never fight for himself. “wil…” you could only whisper tearfully, knowing full well that this moment could be the last time you’d ever see him.

wilbur slapped on the best smile he could in the situation, and pulled your into a hug. “I’m going to be okay, you hear me? if not you can kick my ass,” he laughed lightly in your ear, not able to hide the way his voice shook.

“I can’t kick your ass if you're hurt,” your mind searched for some way that you could fix this — perhaps it was a mistake? or maybe he could get out of it through faking an injury or a sickness. “what if I shot you in the foot?”

“you have a terrible aim.”

“if it means you stay, wouldn’t you take the chance?”

“I have to go.”

“wil-”

“Y/N,” he gave you a look — a look that you had given him minutes before. “I have to go — I have orders to, you know that.”

an order was an order. there was no way out. no amount of arguing, begging, or offering could buy your way out of doing something no matter what your case was, or what the order was. wilbur swore to follow orders at the beginning of his first army career, much like you had.

“I promise you I’ll come back to you.”

“you better,” your head lowered to his chest once more, basking in the warmth one more time before you had to let him go.

if there was really anything as saints, you prayed for them to watch over him.

he had to come back.

because you didn’t know what you would do if he didn’t.

— word bank

grisha [gree - shah] — unique individuals who have abilities

ravka — a country in the books of shadow and bone

corporalki [core - pour - ral - kee] — an order in the grisha

materialki [mat - eire - al - kee] — an order in the grisha

etherialki [ether - ree - al - kee] — an order in the grisha

fjerdan [fee - yair - den] — the ethnicity of fjerda residents

shu [shoo] — the ethnicity of shu-han residents

#searing light #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #::dreamwastaken #dream x reader #dream imagine #grishaverse au #shadow and bone au

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allegedlyanandroid · 3 years

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Hello! For the fic prompts! Can I got a 900Gavin A/B/O fic about alpha!RK900 who try to bite Omega!Gavin scent glands when they first meet because RK900 didn't have a social program but have only a primal instinct program? Could pls keep it fluff and light,plssss? 🥺 I read too many dark fics but if it couldn't then it ok too.

I took some artistic liberties with this one and made Gavin a bounty hunter for the sole purpose that I couldn’t figure out a good reason as to why Fowler would assign them as partners if Nines tried to take a bite out of him on first meeting. I mean... who can blame him though? Gavin is a snacc. Did I think to much into it? Yes, definitely. Either way, I hope you like it @therainnight, fingers crossed that it has an okay ratio of fluff in it <3

There’s nothing to suggest he’s being followed, no out-of-the-ordinary sounds, no footsteps, no nothing. Doesn’t matter. Gavin has always had good instincts and right now they’re telling him that something, or someone, is stalking him. Glancing as far behind himself as he can through his peripheral vision means he catches the glimpse of movement before it’s too late. Gavin whirls around just as he’s pushed backwards against a tree and the impact is enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

A forearm keeps him pressed against it while he stares uncomprehending at razor-sharp teeth set in a half-finished face.

‘Oh, hell no,’ is what comes to mind and it’s through pure instinctive reaction that he manages to get a hand up between them and shove it as far into the android’s mouth as he can ‒ quick enough to keep it from sinking its teeth into the glands in his neck. He’d rather lose a few fingers than be bond-mated on first meeting like some omega bride in the twentieth century. His other hand is still free so he ignores the glowing eyes peering into his soul, and the curious gnawing over the digits he unceremoniously shoved in the android’s mouth, in order to find the glowing circle in the middle of its chest. Digging his fingers into the minute crack the thirium pump regulator slides into his hand with a muted hiss, strangely warm and disgustingly slick with thirium.

The android yelps, scrambling backwards, and releases Gavin’s saliva-slick hand as it falls down in a crouch. It stares desperately at the cylinder held aloft in the air. It jolts forward when Gavin squeezes it between claw-tipped fingers until it threatens to bend under the strain and render it useless, eyes are wide and sorrowful, the glow in them sapping away with every passing second. Gavin nearly feels bad for it.

“Why are you following me?!” he demands to know, pushing the thought aside.

It doesn’t answer, shifting in place as it continues to stare at him.

“You can have this back if you tell me.” Half-truths. The android merely curls in on itself, pressing the palm of its hand against its own throat. It mouths something but the dark plating making up the lower part of his face makes it impossible to see what. Then it clicks. “You can’t talk?”

It nods.

Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the droid looks anything but finished. Gavin can see parts of its biocomponents pulsing a subdued red behind clear panelling mixed in with sleek metal in a colour so dark it’s nearly void. The upper part of its face has synthskin, including his upper lip, but everything below is made of the same black material. Its ears nearly blend into the raven hair on its head and Gavin can’t find it in himself to be angry at it. Clearly, it’s a lost ‒ and potentially broken ‒ thing. Not unlike himself.

Gavin tosses the regulator in the android’s direction and marches on. He has a job to do after all and tracking only gets harder the longer he dawdles. Almost immediately the feeling returns and he groans out loud. The time-limit forces him to keep moving regardless of his silent companion. His target already has a two-day head start and the moment Weiss crosses the border into Canada Gavin can’t do jack-shit to him. He jerks the rifle higher on his back and continues to follow the scent of old blood laid into the earth. Evidently the bastard isn’t worried about being followed so much as setting a fast pace despite his injuries.

When night begins to fall, the shadows lengthening around him, Gavin reluctantly sets up camp. There’s maybe another two days before he catches up and seeing as they’re about a three day’s march from the border he’ll be cutting it close.

The area he finds is partly protected from the elements and close to a stream of trickling water. “I know you’re there,” he calls while rummaging around his supplies to find kindling. There’s a rustle of the underbrush to his left and the hulking mess of an android appears at the edge of camp. It looks hesitant, almost skittish, where it stands. It makes little sense given how bulky the ‘droid is and how aggressive it behaved earlier. Clearly it should be able to hold its own going off design alone. Gavin returns to ignoring it after a last wary glance and swears beneath his breath when the wood won’t catch flame.

The android shifts into his line of sight and approaches slowly, like one would a vicious or scared animal. It stops again and gestures to the attempted fire, tilting its head in question. Gavin sighs. “Sure, why not,” he shrugs. “‘s not like you can do a worse job.”

Despite the less-than-friendly tone, the android visibly perks up. Gavin watches as it rearranges the collected wood with meticulous focus before stripping one of its fingers of plating and snapping off a few wires. The resulting electric sparks is what it uses to light the kindling. The fire slowly spreads over bark and wood until they’re engulfed by flames, cracking and popping in the still evening. Satisfied, it prods at the still-sparking wires with a finger, completely transfixed by the reds, oranges and yellows found in the flickering fire.

Gavin offers a crooked grin in thanks. “Wonders of technology. You need any help with that?”

The android shakes its head no, poking the wires back in place, before clicking the plating back where it belongs. It looks to be smiling slightly as it reluctantly gathers itself up to leave.

Gavin stops it with a hand on its wrist.

“You can stay.”

It’s basic human decency Gavin tells himself when he watches the android shuffle closer to the flames, hands outstretched as if to absorb its warmth. With the light’s help he can just about make out the serial-number etched into its chassis right over its thirium pump. “RK900, “ Gavin reads, “-that’s not one I’ve heard of before.” The droid turns to him and holds up one finger, turning it afterwards to point at himself. Gavin hums. “One of a kind then. I can relate to that.”

The android slides closer, looking up with a soft “go-on” like gesture that Gavin is helpless to resist.

He wakes up the next morning feeling as if everything has tilted slightly to the left and groggily gets himself ready for the day, rolling up his sleeping bag and kicking dirt over the fire’s embers, while RK stares at him with intrigue. They begin the trek not long after with Gavin wolfing down a protein bar in lieu of breakfast. RK frowns at him then, his brows furrowed severely, but it quickly turns to confusion when Gavin sticks his tongue out at him and picks up the pace. While they walk, he contemplates when in the previous evening he began referring to RK as “he” instead of “it”. There’s no doubt that the android is alive, for lack of a better term, animated and interested and latching onto every word of Gavin’s tales the way he used to do himself when he was younger and less jaded.

Gavin, lost in thought, doesn’t notice RK disappearing for a moment. His return is difficult to miss though since he presents him with a perfectly symmetrical trientalis europaea, its yellow core surrounded by seven white petals. A stark contrast to the black hands cupping it; delicate fragility resting in palms simply not made for such sweet blossoms. There’s excitement radiating off him, nestled in his glowing eyes, which doubles when Gavin asks: “Is that for me?”

The nod is quick as RK moves his hands an inch closer. Gavin takes it with a soft “thank you.” He looks at it for a moment longer and then takes his notebook from his inner pocket to place the flower there, snapping it shut and tying it with twine to really press flat. RK preens, turning his gaze bashfully to the forest floor, while Gavin pretends his cheeks aren’t flushed red.

When at last it comes time to make camp Gavin is pleased with their progress. “The scent of blood is more prominent. Even if he’s on scent blockers I can pick up smoke from the campfire. We’re getting close.”

His statement prompts an explanation about the reason he’s in the woods to begin with. The concern he shows upon hearing of Gavin’s chosen field of work is quickly dismissed with a: “I managed to bring you down, didn’t I?” which RK’s lips twitch at. He settles even closer to Gavin today, surreptitiously scenting the air between them, until Gavin asks him about it point-blank.

‘You smell nice,’ RK writes out on a torn-out page in Gavin’s book. ‘It’s what drew me in.’

“I smell like fuck-all while on blockers.”

‘Leather, coffee, something sweet like honey.’ It takes a moment before RK writes the next part: ‘You’re an omega.’

Gavin is still reeling when the last part of the sentence hits him like a punch to the gut. He takes his blockers near religiously, there’s no way RK should be able to‒

...but then the air around him floods with hints of metal and ozone. He’d smelled it before, when RK first came at him, but it had been absent since.

An alpha.

As soon as the scent envelops him it lessens again. ‘It’s hard to concentrate, to control myself, unless I turn that part of my programming off. Although, it means I have to get in close to smell anything.’

Gavin doesn’t know what to say to that, to any of it, so he remains quiet even if he doesn’t move away to allow RK to take in his scent as he pleases.

The weather dips dangerously in the late night and Gavin wakes up shivering. “Fuck, dammit,” he curses. Maybe he should keep moving. Catch the fucker earlier and finally get away from here. ‘Terrible plan,’ Gavin reminds himself as another shiver wracks through his body. Weiss is an alpha and as much as Gavin loathes to admit it, they are stronger than him. His strength is his speed and precision, dancing out of people’s range until they tire, or using his omega status as a lure. The last one wouldn’t help him here and the former only works if he’s well-rested and alert.

RK is just now stoking the fire. It helps, a bit, but Gavin is still feeling numb; fingers and toes hurting when he attempts to stretch them out.

“Hey, RK. C’mere a second.”

The android obeys without question, crouching down next to where Gavin has struggled into a sitting position. He places his hands against RK’s bare chassis to test his theory. There’s a low thrumming vibration beneath his fingertips and the metal is surprisingly warm to the touch. RK moves to clasp Gavin’s hands between his own and slowly rubs over them, keeping them covered while his chassis suddenly generates more heat.

Once they’re an appropriate temperature again RK moves to sit behind him. Gavin watches him, a question etched clearly into his eyes, but RK merely lays down, waiting and watching. Glacially slowly Gavin joins him on the ground and the android smiles shyly before turning his back on him. Gavin mirrors him once more, shuffling until they lie back to back, and both the warmth from the fire and RK enveloping him is a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

The morning after is filled with glances out of the corner of his eye, with the urge to hold RK’s stupid hand, and he wonders when he became so starved of touch, of someone showing the slightest bit of kindness to him, that two days are enough to want to pull RK down by his hair and kiss him senseless.

They catch up to Weiss a short few hours later and Gavin presses the rifle into RK’s hands as a safety precaution before throwing himself into the fight. It’s quick and dirty with Gavin using every trick in the book to gain the upper hand while dancing around the wildly thrown punches. Grinning through the rush of adrenaline Gavin eventually stops toying with the man and brings him down with a few precise kicks and punches. He locks handcuffs around Weiss’ wrists, arms behind his back, while Weiss shouts abuse and obscenities at him. Gavin pays it no mind, explaining with a sick sense of satisfaction that the cuffs aren’t coming off without a DNA signature from his friend and that running would mean a slow death for him left out in the elements. “Truth be told, I don’t care whether or not you’re still breathing when I bring in proof of your capture. I can afford to lose the difference in compensation.”

Weiss falls limp at that while Gavin slowly rises to his feet. When he looks up, remembering they’re not alone, RK is standing still as a statue. He stalks over, bearing a striking resemblance to a predator approaching prey, and presses right up into Gavin’s personal space to shove his nose into his neck and inhale. A rumbling noise is caught in his throat, a growl that has Gavin’s knees weakening slightly, as sharp teeth graze over his throat. Ozone and metal. Wicked claws not present before gripping his jaw tightly.

He reaches up to stick his thumb in RK’s mouth, pressing it down on his tongue with narrowed eyes. RK pricks it with his fangs and laps at the drop of blood with his tongue, all the while keeping eye contact. It makes Gavin squirm, just a little bit, and he’s thankful the heat suppressors keep him from getting wet or the walk back would be uncomfortable to say the least. With a graze of his teeth, RK loosens his hold and puts distance between them again, eyes dark and wanting.

Weiss tries to run about two thirds of the way back and Gavin sighs as he readies his reclaimed rifle. Turns out he never has to use it. RK’s head snaps up and he tracks the man’s erratic patterns for a second before giving chase. He’s practically a blur of movement and Gavin watches, transfixed, as he takes Weiss down in one graceful leap. The lack of being able to catch himself smacks Weiss’ head hard against the ground. RK doesn’t seem to care about the man’s dazed state as he drags him back to Gavin, his claws buried deep into the sides of his neck, hand cupping the back of it. He tosses him at Gavin’s feet and offers a razor-sharp grin, nudging the guy with the tip of his foot.

Gavin gives him a light kiss on the cheek for his help and can almost imagine the tail wagging behind him with excitement at the gesture of affection.

What doesn’t fit the crumbling infrastructure in the slums or the dingy office he rents for cheap is the well-kept lady in smart business attire standing next to him behind the desk.

Maurice Gacy, the guy they usually make business with, is a weasel of a man. His thin greasy hair and slimy smile fits his role of lowlife criminal perfectly. His side hustle of collecting bounties for the Guild is the only reason Gavin interacts with him, puts up with his leering and comments. Trust only extends so far between them but... all in all he gives the money owed and he keeps his mouth shut when talking to the cops which is all that really matters in the end.

RK tenses behind him, something Gavin senses in the clicking of his machinery, and Gavin frowns at the broad smile beginning to stretch over her face. “You found it,” she says lightly, walking in a measured pace while Gacy warily trails behind, heels clicking across the linoleum.

Gavin takes a step forward to meet her and bares his teeth in a snarl. “Back off.”

She nods sagely, uncaring for his hostility and lengthening canines. “Yes, of course. Money first. Always the same with you lot, isn’t it?” The node she produces from her fitted jacket flares to life and he stares, heart stuttering in his chest, at the very familiar face displayed.

WANTED

RK900, MODEL NUMBER #313 248 317 - 87

REWARD: 1.000.000 $

HIGHLY VOLATILE AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS

PREFERABLE IF IT REMAINS OPERABLE UPON COLLECTION

Metal and ozone laced with a bitter tinge resembling fear.

A flower stuck between yellowing pages.

Viscous saliva and thirium dripping from his hands.

Whatever RK’s crime can Gavin truly bear to have more of his blood on them when it’s sure to stain them always? The thought is on the forefront of his mind when RK walks up to stand by his side, resignation already home in eyes and slowly sapping them of light, and in that moment, Gavin has his answer.

His arm shoots out to block RK from moving further and slowly raises his chin in defiance. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

They’re all staring at him, RK with a mix of wonder and trepidation, so Gavin sets his jaw and forces calm into his voice. “You can fuck right off with that shit, he’s not the reason we’re here.” With a nod to Tina, she steps forward and shoves Weiss at Gacy. Thankfully he’s too much of a coward to pick a fight and transfers the agreed upon money to her before whisking Weiss away towards the back. Tina raises an eyebrow at him, bumping their shoulder together lightly as she walks out the door, and Gavin has never been as thankful to have her as he is right now when the unmistakable sound of an engine rumbling to life filters in from outside. “Come on, we’re done here.”

It’ll start a shitstorm, that’s for damn sure, but with RK leaning forward to peer out the front window as they tear through the streets, Gavin can’t find it in himself to care.

#allegedly answering asks #dbh gavin #gavin reed #dbh rk900 #rk900 #reed900 #dbh #detroit: become human #detroit become human #mini fic #my writing #is nines courting gavin in this to the best of his abilities?#yes absolutely #does gavin know?#debatable #he's both thick and thicc if you know what i mean

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

Text

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 7: Hush, Hush, Hush •

The children walk single file as they descended from the brush from where they had escaped, Eddie in the lead, Richie taking up the caboose. Y/n had helped Mike up the rocks, and shortly after found herself in the middle behind him. Mike cast a glance in her direction as well as the others.

"Thanks, guys," He said, redirecting his gaze to the ground. "But you shouldn't have done that, they'll be after you too, now."

Eddie was the first to chime in. "Oh, no, no, no, Bowers? He's always after us."

"I guess that's one t-t-thing we all have in common," Bill added.

"Yeah, homeschool!" Richie chirped. "Welcome to the Losers Club!"

Y/n smiled at the boy's remark, shaking her head lightly. It was then that Y/n was reminded of the fleeting thoughts from the night before that bounced around her tired, foggy brain. And a familiar feeling bubbled back up to the surface along with it; a sense of belonging. Y/n did not have much luck when it came to getting close to people, aside from Beverly of course. Until that day at the quarry, she had never truly felt at home. And now that they had a new member - the last piece of the puzzle - she knew as long as she had them, she would be whole.

In fact, they would never say it aloud, but each and every member of the Losers Club shared these same feelings. That day marked the beginning of a beautiful and powerful bond that would last a lifetime. Each and every one was just as important as the next and if you were to pluck any from the line, they would never quite be the same. Each of the eight children felt immediately at home with one another, a comfort so deep and profound it could quiet any lurking anxieties or fears.

For a short while, no one said anything, just a peaceful ambiance blanketed the atmosphere as they descended the small hill of grass. Each of them could feel the tall green blades brush their legs, and the silence was filled with the low yet loud rumble of the train traveling along the tracks, yards behind them. When they reached the bottom of the small hill, Y/n scurried up to the front and joined Eddie by his side. Everyone else disperses, scattering amongst one another, Ben silently taking the lead.

"Hey Kaspbrak" Eddie looked to her, a little taken aback but attentive. "I'm counting on you,"

Eddie blushed uncomfortably until he realized what she had been implying. She had been holding her left arm, just below the shoulder, and gestured to it with her eyes. She blushed herself and played it off with a weak laugh.

"My arm?" She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. "If you anyone has a band-aid it's you."

He laughed nervously as well, as he reached into one of his fanny packs, careful to watch his step as he was still walking. He pulled out a bandaid and handed it to her, she smiled in thanks. She wished she could have said she was surprised when he continued to pull supplies out one by one. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't find that a least a little impressive. It reminded her of clowns packed into a clown car. Ugh, she shivered slightly, bad analogy, nevermind.

"Here you go. Also, here's some ointment, it's a special disinfectant - who the fuck knows all the germs that were on that rock, you'll need all the help you can get. I also have gauze, normally I don't carry gauze but since your leg is still pretty bad, I figured I should carry some, just in case. Here you take it, I think I have some more, also, I kept a small wrap of ace bandages, you really need to - wait you have been changing them frequently, right? You always, always change bandages, the bigger the wound the more important it is you change it. Seriously, this is really important because-!"

"BEEP BEEP BEEEP!" Richie shouted suddenly, strolling up and walking between the pair. "Hear that sound, Doctor K? That's the sound of her flat-lining. You took too fucking long, genius, if you were a real doctor she would have bled out on your table already!"

Y/n snickered under her breath, several of the Losers smiled as well. Eddie felt his face grow hot, and he turned angrily to Richie, his face contorted in an angry pout. He was struggling for words, but before he could form a proper sentence, Richie continued.

"Quick tip, Doc, don't talk your patients to death!"

Stan laughed dryly, "Yeah, you're one to talk."

"Hey there, woah, woah, woah!" He threw his arms up in defense. "I'm just givin' the people what they want!"

"Great!" Y/n said excitedly, her face lighting up briefly before falling. "How bout some silence? Beep beep, Richie."

Mike, who had blended into the group so effortlessly and had been silently processing - still adjusting to the group dynamic - laughed suddenly and loudly. Everyone looked to him, taken slightly aback by his sudden, but infectious laugh. And it wasn't long until that laughter spread, everyone had cracked a smile and there was scattered laughter that melted away any previous tension.

By now, Y/n had applied the ointment and the band-aid easily. She handed the tube of disinfectant back to Eddie as well as the gauze.

"Thanks, but the band-aid will do just fine. Luckily, this one is only just a little cut."

Eddie nearly tripped, he had been so lost in thought as he stared anxiously at the gauze outstretched in her hand. He licked his lips nervously, and his eyes flickered to hers. She noted his tentativeness and waited expectantly, but he could hold his tongue no longer, crush or not.

"...Seriously, have you been changing those bandages, you never answered me and I'm sorry but that's disgusting if you haven't changed them cause the wound really needs to air out and if it doesn't you could end up-"

"Christ, Eddie! I've changed them!" Y/n blurted, falling into a small fit of chuckles to show she wasn't truly mad.

He tried to conceal his blush, but he played it off with a vigorous shake of the head and change of topic.

"Hey, where are we going anyway? I can't be out too long or my mom will kill me. One time, I was like, two minutes late for curfew and she had a panic attack."

Ben looked over his shoulder, he had taken the lead and while no one had mentioned it yet, everyone had instinctively followed him.

"Well, I was hoping to show you guys something."

Everyone gave one another an odd, questioning look but they followed Ben into the trees, nevertheless.

×××

Night had fallen the day of the rock fight and another day began. The group of misfits had found themselves in town, where the annual parade was taking place. Wracked with guilt and the unpleasant feeling of being pitied, Y/n was trying to talk Eddie out of buying her the delicious frozen treat she had been ogling. Eddie had noticed the longing in her eyes when she spotted a young child with one of their own, and it was then that he really noticed the effects the sun had on her. Her baggy clothes were sticking to her arms and legs, and he could see beads of sweat percolating above her brow.

Once again, their previous exchange on the fire escape popped into his head and he was reminded once more of how fortunate he was that he could afford such little things he took for granted. The power of suggestion had already gotten to him as well when he saw a frustrated father shoving an ice cream cone at his crying child, and although the sight made him cringe he couldn't quite shake the sudden craving of the sweet treat. Hence their detour to the ice cream cart, he could practically hear Richie ragging on him for getting her something with the audacity to leave him out - What, you skimping out on me now, Eds? - Eddie opted for a vanilla cone for Rich, just to be safe. But none of that stopped Y/n from protesting against it.

"Eddie, you really don't have to do this,"

The young L/n girl looked between the hypochondriac kid and the disgruntled teenager behind the cart, slinging ice cream. Ignoring her protests, he dropped the small pile of coins he had retrieved from his fanny pack onto the metal counter of the cart. The overheated employee slid it towards himself to the end of the counter, plucking the quarters from the surface and handed Eddie two vanilla cones. Eddie gladly took them in each napkin-clad hand - he had already grabbed several napkins so as to not spill or drip anything. Y/n watched defeated, albeit a bit excited, as the young man behind the counter opened another compartment and retrieved the y/f/f popsicle and handed it to her.

She hesitantly took the popsicle, trying her best to mask the ravenous look in her eye.

"Eddie-"

"Look, it's best you have that anyway, it's supposed to get like, really hot out today so it's best you keep cool or you could be one step closer to heatstroke. And let me tell you, that is not fun, not fun at all! Did you know that-"

A loud burst of noise disrupted their conversation and they turned to see the cause. Richie had gotten his hands on one of the marching bands instruments - a tuba by the looks, and sound of it. The owner of the tuba was angrily reaching for it but Richie managed to keep it out of his reach. His cheeks puffed and his face turned pink as a few short bursts of noise came from the instrument.

Eddie and Y/n shared an amused look and Y/n's eyes fell to the popsicle. She sighed lightly, trying to tame the pit in her stomach that always occurred when she was pitied. Now Y/n appreciated the gesture, she really did. It was awfully sweet of the boy, and she would be lying if she said it didn't make her stomach do a small flip, but all that was easily drowned out by how small she felt. She hated being a charity case, it was bad enough Beverly had basically kept her fed all these years but Y/n reminded herself that their friendship was symbiotic - they each had something to offer the other. But this made her feel like she owed Eddie, and she didn't like that.

The two left the cart and walked along the sidewalk at a steady pace. Nervously, she looked at the boy.

"Eddie, I appreciate it, but I don't want to owe you or anything. I-"

Eddie's face contorted into a confused frown. He chuckled weakly before taking a quick lick of his ice cream. He shook his head.

"You don't owe me! It's just a popsicle, it's no big deal."

Words failed her and she looked at the popsicle tentatively. Eddie noticed this and was scrambling to put out the small fire he had caused.

"Think of it as a favor to me,"

Y/n showed no efforts to hide her confusion. "A favor?"

"Yeah, you stay cool, and I don't have to take care of you when you suffer from heatstroke."

Her frown stayed cemented to her face as she stared at the boy, and Eddie feared his message was lost in translation. For fuck's sake, he didn't mean it like that! Great, now he sounded like a total ass.

Y/n broke out into chuckles and Eddie felt the enormous weight leave his shoulders. He chuckled with her, though they came out more strained and nervous. She shook her head, eyebrows raised.

"Man, you must care if you're willing to make up that load of horse shit." Y/n's tempted eye fell to the popsicle in her hand. "Thanks, shrimp, I appreciate it. But just this one time, okay? I always end up feeling like I owe people whenever they do stuff like this. Even if it's small things, cause a lot of stuff that might seem small to you, are kind of a big deal to me, does that make any sense?"

Eddie nodded.

"To tell you the truth, I've never tried one before."

Eddie's eyes widened and he looked frantically between her and her dessert.

"You gotta try it! They're really good!"

Y/n smiled weakly.

"Eddie, I mean it. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Eddie nodded eagerly, his eyes frequently falling to the popsicle.

"I get it, won't happen again. I promise. But seriously, you gotta try it! Really though, before it melts."

Y/n examined the frozen y/f/f pop and noticed the ice was thinning. She shrugged at Eddie and tried the popsicle. Her eyes widened and she gaped at the boy.

"Holy shit."

Eddie grinned eagerly, and by now the two were approaching Richie.

"Right?"

"Dammit, Eddie! You really shouldn't have done this, I'm gonna want another one!" She whined, though her voice held a twinge of humor.

She switched the popsicle to the other hand to lick the melted residue that had made it on her fingers. Eddie was quick to supply her with an extra napkin which she thanked him for.

Eddie laughed at her words and he noticed he had caught Richie's eye. More specifically, the extra ice cream cone did. Richie abandoned the tuba and waltzed over to the boy, gladly accepting the treat and the trio found themselves joining the rest of the group just inside the alley. They were all somber, Y/n couldn't help but notice.

"What's wrong?" She asked, drawing all eyes to her. "What are guys talking about?"

"What they always talk about," Richie said simply.

"I actually think it will end," Ben said, ignoring the interruption. "For a little while, at least."

"What do you mean?" Mike asked.

"So I was going over all my Derry research and I charted out all the big events. The Ironworks explosion in 1908, the Bradley Gang in '35, and the Black Spot in '62. And now kids being... I realized this stuff seems to happen-"

"Every 27 years," Bill and Ben finished.

Y/n looked up from her frozen pop and licked her lips, for some reason feeling silly for enjoying such a thing during this discussion. She found her stomach was twisted in knots, though at least, she thought, Eddie was right. She was feeling cooled down. But none of that seemed to matter now. Like it was all a matter of time before all of these fleeting feelings, these little moments, were being packed and stored away for a long time. It was a strange feeling that she couldn't quite identify, a feeling each of the Losers Club was experiencing: that while everyone around them was laughing and playing, enjoying the blissful moments of summer, they themselves each felt as if they were enjoying their last day on earth.

×××

"So let me get this straight," Eddie began, fingers drumming nervously on his right knee. "It comes out from wherever to eat kids for, like, a year? And then what? It just goes into hibernation?"

The Losers found themselves in the park, frozen treats long gone, the pits in their stomachs however still very much present. Bev, Stan, Mike, and Ben were splayed put on the bench, backs to the infamous statue of Paul Bunyan. Richie sat on his parked bike, unfortunate enough to be facing said statue - he never said it but the thing always creeped him out, just something about it. Bill and Eddie each found a seat of their own on the long back of Silver and Y/n laid in the grass before them in between the two bikes. She was propping herself up with her arms and legs splayed out before her. Her leg was healing fast but she didn't want to risk sitting on it and making it worse.

So here the Losers sat, lost in discussion and despite the hot weather, there was a chill in the air that only these eight misfits could feel. Looming over them, watching them, much like It did their own town.

"Maybe, it's like-- What do you call it?" Stan paused, searching for the word. "Cicadas. You know, the bug that only comes out once every seventeen years."

"My grandfather thinks this town is cursed," Mike said. "He says that all the bad things that happen in this town are because of one thing. An evil thing that feeds off the people of Derry."

An evil thing.

The three words that lurked in the back of Y/n's mind all her life. She could feel herself falling back into the pit, the black hole that swallowed her up every time she thought of the looming threat. She could feel herself disconnecting from the world again, watching herself being ripped away from this moment in time and tossed back to that awful night, though she could still hear the worried voices of her friends speaking. Completely unaware of her state of mind. The words were fuzzy and distant, background noise as she felt herself being transported to that day.

"I ain't got much time left, but at least I'm safer than you. I'm old, I've lived my life but you? Well, you're closer to death's door than I am."

"But it can't be one thing. We all saw something different." Stan said, his voice now began to fade out.

The voices were now blending together as memories of her past became her present reality.

"Cause this town, I tell you, this town... There's an evil, evil thing in this world," the man said.

She could hear her younger self whimper in fear, her own voice was squeaky and very frightened. The old voice continued, it shook with fear and the terror was as ripe as his memory, like only seconds had passed, not decades.

"monsters are all too real my child, I've seen 'em with my own two eyes."

Mike's voice found a way through her skull, echoing softly as all the details of the day she worked so hard to forget, came flooding back.

"Maybe. Or maybe it knows what scares us most and that's what we see."

"The Devil himself lives here, right here in this very shit hole and I've waited a very long time for this moment; to be free."

There was a moment of tension-filled silence as the young h/c girl looked up at the slouching figure. The girl clutches her teddy bear tightly to her chest - the sad old thing nearly worn down to threads - tears pooling in her e/c eyes as she stares on in horror at the distant relative. Old and senile he was, why her mother brought her here she didn't know. Y/n would later figure out that it was a final visit of sorts. A last chance to meet some of her family. And while her mother stepped out of the room to retrieve a simple glass of water for the man, he turned unexpectedly to his grandniece and imparted the words she would never forget.

"He's in your closet, under your bed. He's everywhere, always, watchin' you. Waiting for the right moment to snatch you up. And he will get you. He always gets you... he got her, I told her not to go, but she was adventurous you see, much like you kids are these days, and mother didn't like that and she always told us; 'you mind yourself or I'll tell him. I'll tell him...'"

The old man's glossy eyes drifted away, his voice trailing as he was lost in the memory; reliving it all over again.

"Tell who? Who is he?" The young girl asked tearfully?"

He broke from his trance and he looked at her with cold and fearful eyes.

"The Boogeyman." Y/n croaked, breaking from her stupor.

The Losers all looked to their friend in the grass. The color was drained from her [s/c] skin, and her eyes were distant and glassy. Her left leg had inched gradually up and was now clutched tightly against her chest protectively. Seven pairs of eyes were now fixed on her and she gulped.

"My great uncle Henry, I only met him once when I was about five or six, but he- he told me about how he saw the Boogeyman. Not much else, but the way he described It... I don't know, it always stuck with me. I've been afraid of It ever since and then-" Her eyes met Beverly's and she knew she had connected the dots.

"Your ankle." She finished.

Y/n nodded. She shifted in the grass uncomfortably before looking around at her friends. Some of them confused, others connecting dots of their own, but still intrigued and listening.

"When school got out, Bev slept over." Y/n began, filling in Mike especially. "We both fell asleep with the TV on, it woke me up so I got up to turn it off, and then, just as I started to drift off I felt Bev pull on my leg several times. But, I woke up and realized she was fast asleep."

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the nerves that came crawling back even now. She fixed her eyes on the grass below her, and her fingers worked themselves into the ground. Y/n began fiddling with eh blades of grass, twirling them and ripping some from the ground as she continued.

"Next thing I know, It's pulling me across the carpet and my leg is torn to shreds. It looked like what I always imagined the Boogeyman to be, but... but it also looked like-"

"A clown."

She had to turn her body slightly to look at Eddie, but she nodded, confirming everyone's suspicions from the day before.

"Yeah, I saw a clown too. But It was also a leper." Eddie saw the confused looks scattered across his friends. "He was like a walking infection."

Eddie felt himself fighting his bodily instincts to vomit, still repulsed by the vivid memory. Stan, who had been squirming in his seat the entire exchange, fought desperately to deny the gory truth that lay before them. Trying to convince everyone, himself especially, that this thing couldn't exist. Cause if It did, it would be all too terrible.

"But you didn't," his voice trembled. "Because It isn't real. None of this is. Not Eddie's leper. Or Bill seeing Georgie, or-or woman I keep seeing." His voice broke, he looked down at his feet and the others knew.

He was trying to convince himself.

"She hot?" Richie asked with a half-smirk.

Stan gave Richie an incredulous look, and his voice rose.

"No Richie! She's not hot! Her face is all messed up. None of this makes any sense. They're all like bad dreams."

Mike spoke up, unable to tiptoe around him any longer.

"I don't think so. I know the difference between a bad dream, and real life, okay? Besides, look at Y/n's leg! How do you explain that?"

Y/n gave Mike a thankful nod, and Eddie asked the question she had at the end of her tongue.

"What'd you see? You saw something, too?"

"Yes," Mike answered somberly, and he took a deep breath. "Do you guys know that burned-down house on Harris Avenue?"

Y/n nodded, encouraging Mike to continue.

"I was inside when it burned down." Mike began fiddling with his hands nervously, and Bill could feel his heartache. "Before I was rescued, my mom and dad were trapped in the next room over from me. They were... pushing and pounding on the door, trying to get to me."

Mike's voice broke and he fought hard against the tears that threatened to spill. His heart was breaking in two all over again, he rarely spoke of the incident, always much too saddened by it and each time he did he could hear their frightened screams and the scratches against the door.

"trying to get to me." There was a pause, and Mike swallowed the swollen lump in his throat. "But it was too hot. When the firemen finally found them, the skin on their hands had melted down to the bone."

"Mike," Y/n felt at a loss for words, but all she could manage was a simple few. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, and everyone could tell he was already beginning to rebury the memory.

"We're all afraid of something."

"You got that right." Richie quipped.

Everyone looked to the boy and Y/n asked gently.

"What about you, Rich? What are you afraid of?"

His eyes flickered to Eddie against his will, and he ignored the spike in his heart rate when he did so. Everyone was staring at him now and he gulped, looking over his shoulder to see a clown on the stage across the field, staring at him. He returned his gaze to the group, and swallowed nervously, adjusting his bulky glasses.

"Clowns."

×××

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smileyoongle · 5 years

Text

Deception (A Kim Namjoon Mafia AU)

Summary: A damsel in distress and a lonely mafia leader. Different but not too different. The two worlds collide on a rainy night when Kim Namjoon, a renowned Mafia leader is called for an emergency and Y/N Y/L/N is on the run from her abusive father. Feelings stir and he rescues her. But one of them is a liar. And the other's life is on the line. It's only a matter of time until all secrets are out in the open.

Will love be born? Or will death conquer?

ςhαp†εr †εη: Lost In Delirium

Character Count: 11,574

Pairing: Namjoon×Reader (Appearances by the whole of BTS)

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Because I have been lonely, I value love.

-Leonard Nimoy

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“How’s your business tycoon of a boyfriend doing?”

The immediate reaction of yours should have been an eye roll but instead, you ended up dropping the empty whiskey glass that you were cleaning. You gasped as the glass broke, sending sparkling bits scattering here and there. To say you were a little distracted was an understatement . Whatever had happened between Namjoon and you was consuming your senses completely. You had come close to kissing him, twice and every single time you were interrupted either by your thoughts or someone else. You were confused and…angry? You couldn’t tell.

Did you want him or did you not?

You sighed, crouching down to pick up the broken pieces as your coworker, Isla, towered over you.

“He’s not my boyfriend. How many times are you going to make me say it?” You muttered, your voice laced with annoyance and frustration. Annoyed, because Isla kept calling Namjoon your boyfriend. Frustrated, because it wasn’t true, no matter how much a part of you wanted it to be.

You carefully cleaned the shiny marble floor, the bar counter hiding you from the eyes of your manager, a very moody and rude man who had no respect for his workers whatsoever. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the perverted kind at all. That was probably the one thing that made you stay, along with the money, of course.

“Oh come on, Y/N! If Mr Kim isn’t your boyfriend now, he will be very soon. I can tell that you like him a lot. And you even stay under the same roof. You want me to believe that a man and a woman can stay together without-“

“Maybe you should focus on restocking the bottles rather than prying into Ms Y/L/N’s domestic affairs.”

Your eyes widened, your head jerking up to see your manager glaring at Isla. You winced, crawling towards the bin to throw all the glass bits you had collected, knowing that Isla was probably being burnt to the ground by your manager’s eyes. He was scary, more than Hitler. Okay, that was a bit of exaggeration on your part but he was horrifying, nonetheless.

“Sorry sir, I’ll get to work right now.” Isla apologised in a small voice and you swore this was the first time she sounded so weak. Isla was a very driven person, capable of a lot of things but when problems stood before her, she preferred to cower away. That loud and giddy girl existed only in front of you. It was a surprise that within a week you had managed to grow so close to someone.

Isn’t it the same with Namjoon?

You pursed your lips, moving to help Isla before the club opened for the night.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

"Namjoon, just because you're doing what your father wants you to do, doesn't mean you're a bad person."

Hana's words kept replaying in Namjoon's mind, like a broken record player that he was unable to fix. There had been so much warmth and love in her voice that Namjoon had thought he was dreaming. He was only 19 when his father pushed him into the Mafia business, his mother running away soon after she saw him making his first kill. To this day, Namjoon wished it had all been a dream. His father breaking the awful news to him. His mother leaving. Hana dying, only to come back alive as someone who didn't wanna stand by him anymore.

Maybe if it had all been a dream, then Namjoon's life would have been better. Maybe he would have lived like a normal guy with a normal job and a normal family. Everything would have been so perfect.

Namjoon clenched his jaw as the car came to a halt, the club's name flashing in the darkness of the night. It was a few minutes past 9, everyone's anxiety growing bigger than they could ever imagine.

"Okay so, just a recap. We'll be scattered around, trying to blend in until Hana comes and we confront her." Rex confirmed, earning a groan from Jungkook who was seated beside Namjoon in the backseat along with Yoongi.

"Once again, this isn't a movie. We aren't gonna go to her until she's done talking to whoever she's planning on meeting." Jungkook replied, his eyes glaring at Rex who sighed in disappointment and sulked in his place. The others were in the car that followed behind, hoseok's voice ringing in the earpiece that all of them had.

"She could be here any minute, we should go in."

There was heavy silence for a second, the air very thick and suffocating. Jungkook knew he had lost his favourite person, she wasn't the same Hana now and he had to let her go. The girl that used to be his link to the innocence of the world was gone and he let it happen. No matter how much he told himself that it wasn't his fault, he failed to believe it.

"Let's just get this over with." Yoongi muttered under his breath, pushing open the door of the car and stepping out onto the gravel. It was a cold night, Yoongi's blue suit jacket doing nothing to keep him from getting cold. The only thing keeping him warm was the adrenaline rushing in his veins, a subtle ache in his heart on seeing Namjoon's grim expression. Whatever was gonna happen, Yoongi could only hope they all would be okay again. To him, this wasn't that big of a surprise because he saw it coming. But Namjoon and Jungkook, he knew they were hurt. Very hurt.

As the club loomed over them, they all glanced at each other, Jungkook's eyes falling on Namjoon towards the end. There was a silent message being passed, Namjoon's eyes softening at the look of betrayal in the younger's eyes. In that moment, Namjoon swore he was gonna be strong for the rest of the members. He had to step up as the leader and take care of everyone. He didn't worry about himself too much because he knew. He knew that at the end of the day, he'd go home and he'd find you waiting for him with the smile you wore all the time. Maybe someday he'd be able to tell you what you had done to his heart, but for now, he knew he'd be okay.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

You placed the different glasses of drinks on your tray, moving through the crowd as you kept track of which glass goes on which table. The mass of bodies grinding against one another in the middle of the dancefloor, made it difficult for you to navigate your way through but you had to do it. This was probably why Isla always took charge of the other end of the club. That was the VIP section. You shook your head in envy, grabbing the glass of beer and placing it on a single table where a man with a black cap sat, bobbing his head and looking around the club. "Enjoy your drink." You stated, your robotically sweet tone having been perfected with practice. It was the same everytime, no matter who you were serving. The man looked up at you as you passed by him, not noticing his face in the flashy lights that reflected throughout the place.

Rex was positive he had seen that face before. It wasn't very clear in his mind but he knew he had seen those eyes.

The only question that remained was when?

He narrowed his eyes, thinking hard about who it was. That waitress had a very familiar face but he couldn't put a finger on where he had seen her.

"Rex, I see you zoning out. There's a man at the bar who just arrived, he looks like he's waiting for someone, keep an eye on him."

Namjoon's voice rung in Rex's ears, making him flinch at the suddenness of it. He quickly shook himself back to reality, eyes falling on the man who had, indeed, just arrived. Nonetheless, he saw the same waitress again, picking up another round of drinks as she laughed at something her colleague said. Rex wondered if Namjoon could see her. Maybe he'd know who she was, because the curiosity was killing him. He had such a bad memory, that's probably why he failed half his tests in school.

"Hey boss. Do you see that girl at the bar? The waitress? The one with the ponytail?"

The response was immediate, all the members' heads turning to look at who Rex was talking about. Namjoon couldn't see very clearly, only the back of that waitress was visible to him. But upon seeing her, he felt something familiar, like he knew her.

"You don't actually have to describe her, there's only one waitress there." Jungkook snapped, glaring in Rex's direction from the corner of the room. He was just growing irritated at how long it took Hana to get there, nothing personal against Rex. No matter how annoying the kid was.

Rex pursed his lips, seeing that there was only one waitress there, thankfully it was the one who he wanted to ask about.

"So does anyone of you know her? I think I've seen her before but I can't remember. Help me out, my dudes. I'm dying out of curiosity."

Jimin rolled his eyes at Rex's words. My dudes? He was definitely not fit for being in a gang. Yoongi narrowed his eyes, shifting a little in his place but he still couldn't see her. Seeing that there was no sign of Hana yet, he decided to move closer to her, pushing through the dancing bodies until he was in the clear. Under the colourful lights, he somehow managed to see that face. The one that made his eyes immediately move to Namjoon who was standing on the floor above. Before Yoongi could do anything, he saw the way Namjoon's lips parted in surprise, his eyes stuck to your figure hunched over the bar table.

"Is that...." Hoseok voiced, still trying to come to grip with the situation. They were here to find Hana but looks like there was someone much more interesting there.

"..Y/N." Taehyung added, glancing at Namjoon who had his jaw clenched, his fingers tightening against the railing as he glared at you. Not that you knew. He had been caught way off guard, finally catching onto your lies. You worked at a cafe? Bullshit.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, taking in your appearance. A pretty one, he wasn't going to deny that. Your eyes were very... expressive. They shined under the lights, telling everyone that you were content with how your life was going. For a second, Jungkook saw the same flash of innocence that he used to find solace in. The only difference was that you weren't Hana. He cleared his throat, looking at Namjoon and concluding that no one knew about your little job. Oh.

So the new girl was a liar.

That thought made Jungkook feel better. A part of him blamed you for whatever was happening, but he also knew he had no reasons to hate you yet. You seemed like a good person, he could understand why Namjoon took you in. He would have probably done the same anyway.

You patiently waited for the bartender to make the next round of drinks, your elbow resting on the shiny black counter as you looked around the club. You hummed a little tune to yourself, feeling grateful that tonight there had been no catcalls or inappropriate comments directed to you. It had been a good day, you were sure of it. You wondered what Namjoon was doing, recalling how he had told you he had a meeting to attend. He surely had a very tiring job.

Your eyes wandered to where Isla was standing, her expression distraught as she tried to get her hand out of a stranger's grip. You immediately straightened up, your breath hitching as he pulled Isla onto his lap, his companions laughing at the scene. You were fuming at this point, your feet taking off in her direction, ignoring the calls of the bartender behind you as your shoulder brushed against Yoongi's. But you didn't notice.

Every single member had his eyes trained on you, watching in confusion as you ran to the other end of the club. Right then, Rex happened to look at the entrance, a hooded figure making its way to the mysterious man that was sitting near the bar. He inhaled deeply, looking back at you and then the others. No one was paying attention.

"Guys, Hana's here I think."

At that, everyone's eyes shot to the bar, where Hana took off her hood and began having a serious conversation with the mystery man. Jungkook's blood boiled at the very sight. He was surprised at how quickly he began to hate her but anyone who hurt his family was his enemy. No matter the reasons. He saw Namjoon, fuming and making his way downstairs. Wrong move.

"Let her go." You bellowed over the music, prying the man's hand off of Isla's waist and pulling her to you. She was crying by the time you came, hiding behind you as she sobbed into her hands. You weren't gonna lie that you weren't scared when he stood up but this was no time for that. It was time for you to be strong, to learn to protect yourself.

"And what do you think you're doing?" The drunk man seethed, clenching his fists as the people around you stopped their activities to see what was going on. You breathed heavily, taking a step forward. "I'm sorry but you cannot touch a woman without her consent. We can throw you out for inappropriate behaviour towards the employees." You stated calmly, reminding yourself that you still had a job to keep. Hopefully, your manager would see that you were on the right.

Namjoon was joined by Yoongi as he made his way towards you, his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You had a lot of explaining to do but that was for later. Right now, he could tell you were getting yourself in trouble. Jungkook discreetly pushed his way towards Namjoon, walking beside him.

"What are you doing? Hana is there and this is gonna grab too much attention." He explained, only to hear a scoff from Namjoon. The leader halted, turning to Jungkook as he stared at him with cold eyes. "Y/N needs to be taken out of here. We don't need to wait for Hana to see us. Go and do what needs to be done." He instructed, earning a reluctant nod from the younger male.

"Oh baby, did you want to be in her place? You just have to ask, you know?" You wanted to throw up at the stench of alcohol in his breath. You were beyond disgusted, your head bringing back unwanted memories when you used to be treated like this by strange men. You swallowed thickly as his friends laughed, his hand inching closer to you. Just as his fingers grazed your skin, he was punched to the side, his body landing on the floor with a loud thud. You gasped, your eyes widening as you looked at whoever had saved you.

Namjoon's eyes looked back into yours with anger and disappointment, your heart fluttering on seeing him but you knew it was over. What you didn't want him to find out, was laid out before him in the clear.

"Namjoon..."

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Tell me if you wanna be tagged! What do you think? I just love cliffhangers.

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avi-stella · 7 years

Note

I didn't want to request anything since your hands are still full with our trade...but I couldn't help it XD How about an AU with Zen and reader as co-actors? 😅😅❤❤👏👏

Please accept this request as a formal apology for taking so long with my part of our trade. (Okay, no but I really am sorry for the delay “OTL) Thank you for requesting!

It was Zen’s first major role to play in an actual film, and to be frank, he was nervous beyond belief. The actor only started out with small musicals, so acting for the big screen with different environments and sets and cameras everywhere was still a bit new to him. At the same time, however, Zen understood that he was able to climb up all the way here by his hard work and determination, and he felt rather proud about that.

The film was supposed to be a tragic romance fantasy about a human girl who fell in love with her Guardian Angel, while he fell in love with her. The angel knows that the woman’s death was approaching, but he can’t do anything about it, no matter how hard he struggles against fate, and this was the role that Zen was cast for.

"Oh, Zen! Good morning!”

The actor straightens up immediately when he hears your familiar voice greet him, and the young man enthusiastically returns your greeting. You were the shared lead role with Zen, playing as the woman in love with her Guardian Angel. Throughout the time the two of you worked together, Zen found himself becoming close with you. You were a pleasant person to both talk to and work with, and Zen couldn’t deny the way his heart would race whenever he was with you.

“I look forward to working with you today too.” You flash the actor a warm smile, and he practically melts on the spot.

“I am too,” Zen replies, pushing his thoughts away before the two of you go to get ready. He needed to remain professional.

As soon as the cameras start rolling, Zen is no longer Zen but the character he plays as, and he’s no longer just a co-worker to you but as your star-crossed lover. The scene that you and the rest of the cast and crew were filming was the climax of the woman’s and angel’s relationship, the angel coming to terms with the woman’s fate but still wanting to say a proper farewell.

“You mean everything to me,” Zen speaks as his character, the scripted words tumbling out of his lips with ease. He continues going through the lines, your own lines mixed in between, and as the scene continues, Zen’s character starts to become more and more overwhelmed. …And Zen is too.

Somehow, along the way, both Zen’s character and the actor himself slowly started to blend together, and the young man was unable to tell whose heart he was speaking from. Whose feelings he was trying to convey. Zen didn’t know why he did it, but as soon as the actor finishes with his lines, he suddenly cups your face and leans down to kiss you.

Your eyes widen with complete surprise; this wasn’t part of the script. Before you can even react, trying to figure out what the proper response should be to this situation, Zen pulls away from you, still looking at you like his character in love, or could it be…?

“Cut!” The director’s crisp voice rings loudly in the air, and both you and Zen are simultaneously broken out of your thoughts.

It’s obvious from the young man’s expression that he was panicking, although whether it was because he messed up the scene by doing something not on the script or from the action of suddenly kissing you itself, you couldn’t tell. Both you and the actor glance towards the director who doesn’t look upset all. In fact, he looks rather pleased.

“I liked that added kiss at the end. It really ties in the whole scene together. Let’s keep it in.”

Zen immediately goes to try to convince the director otherwise since you had no idea that the young man was ever going to kiss you, and he thought that you would be uncomfortable with having it shown on screen. Before Zen could utter a word though, you interrupt him with a single word. “Okay.”

After filming was over for the day, Zen tries to catch you before you leave. He calls out to you, and you stop in your tracks, tilting your head to the side as curiosity makes its way to your features. Zen gets straight to the point. “I’m sorry for earlier!” He exclaims perhaps a bit too loudly, and his flushed cheeks deepen in shades even more.

“It’s fine,” you reply. “It was just acting.”

The young man shakes his head. “No, that’s the thing. It wasn’t acting. I…I kissed you because I myself wanted to kiss you. Not as the character I was playing as. I’m really sorry!”

You remain quiet for a moment as you process Zen’s words, and the pieces slowly fall into place. Heat rises to your cheeks as you try to explain. “E-Even so, it’s still fine. I…admittedly kind of liked it.”

Zen finally brings his gaze to yours, and since this is how the situation is right now, he decides to just go for it and asks, “I know I skipped all the steps before by kissing you, but I was wondering if…maybe you can give me a chance to start at the beginning and go on a date with me once we’re done filming the movie?”

You respond without wasting a single second. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

#Mystic Messenger #Zen #Zen x Reader #F: Mystic Messenger #C: Zen (Mystic Messenger)#R: General #G: Fluff #reader insert #avisteliterature #xxemoji ogxx #avisanswers #fic request

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