#sadies1.1kholidaywc

[xyfanficarchive]

Coldcolor (1)

Pairing: DBH RK900 x Reader

Warnings: cursing, alcohol mention, future violence, angst

Summary: The android revolution is dead, and the Detroit is picking up the pieces. Life is grey and uneventful for the reader in the aftermath, despite their hand in quelling the revolution. All until a ghost from their (recent) past turns up beside their desk, and a new case reveals that deviancy may not be quite as gone as the country thought.

Word Count: 3516

Author’s Note: YEEEEHAW its here!!! the beginning of my fic for @connorshero‘s 1.1k milestone!!!!! this was gonna be a oneshot but - damn ive got too many ideas for this racked up from all the time i took getting down to writing it that i just did not want to leave out. i ended up writing this first part, but i’m gonna have to do some srs planning for this in the next little while. i hope you all enjoy!!! as always, any feedback is very very much appreciated!! AS A NOTE: we call nines “connor” in this one cause rk800 connor is like,,, dead :( and theres no need to differentiate between the two

Prompt: “Oh, I hate you. I hate you… because if I didn’t… then I’d love you. And love— it’s a weakness, and I’ll never be weak again.”

It only took a few weeks for the country to begin picking itself back up. The androids had tried to stage a revolution – and failed, and the government was swift in (exterminating? recycling?) the remaining androids. Deviant or not. Not a single blue-blooded… entity that had been activated prior to a certain point was spared the wrath of the United States’ fearful, powerful government body.

You’d have liked to say you were conflicted. It would be easier than admitting the direct, unambiguous crushing guilt you felt. But try as you might, you couldn’t. From the moment you felt close enough to Hank to weigh in on something so personal, you’d encouraged him to stop drinking, but now you understood on some level.

Detroit focused on learning how to sweep streets and collect garbage using flesh-and-blood human labour again, however temporarily. But you wafted through the weeks aimlessly, without direction, now the 7th precinct’s android specialist without any androids to specialize in. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t found comfort in the bottom of a bottle on occasion, on the nights it was especially bad.

Oh, and then he came back.

Like a spectre from the grave of your recent past, but he was taller – maybe? He was nonetheless more towering, more imposing in his high collar and high contrast white and black jacket. His features were sharper somehow, although they were so painfully, painfully the same. The same smattering of spots, dots and freckles across his face. The same jawline, the same divot in the centre of his chin. The same rogue lock of brown hair, escaping from his swept back style to flop out onto his forehead.

You were infuriated. The sight of him standing amongst the desks – stiff and unmoving with his hands clasped nearly behind his back. unfazed by anything, made the bile rise in your throat, a sick dizziness spinning behind your eyes. You didn’t know whether it was because he had the audacity to come back, or that he came back as this – this “RK900”, this facsimile, this shitty copy of what Connor was.

His eyes were grey. Cold. Like Cyberlife wasn’t even trying to hide his frigid, machine nature behind the facade of those soft, deep browns anymore.

You pursed your lips and shifted your posture (whether consciously or not) to be more guarded as you approached. Of course, as some sick stroke of fate, it was your desk he was waiting oh-so statuelike next to. You hadn’t said a word as you walked up before he spoke:

“Good morning, Detective L/N. My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.”

Your eyes slipped closed for a second, a half smile on your face as you let out a fast huff of air through you nose - but there was no mirth in the expression. You opened your eyes again and directed your gaze back up to his eyes, intending to look neutral, unaffected, even though you knew your face was betraying the hotness in your blood.

“Oh, are you?” You said, and pressed your lips into a line, looking away from his eyes and just past his shoulder, still trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

“Yes, I have - “

“That’s nice,” you interrupted, still pointedly not looking at him. You noticed the ring on his temple flash yellow for a single moment, and when it settled back on blue he tilted his head just the slightest in question. “That you’re Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife, I mean.”

He paused for a breath, and continued, seemingly unable to come up with a response to that. “Yes. I have been assigned to assist you.”

“Well, that’s great isn’t it?” you said, turning your back to him as you shrugged off your bag and heavy winter jacket, and fixed your desk for the day. And when you swung back around to face him, he was still standing just the same as he had been when you walked in. You looked him over, sucking your teeth before a corner of your mouth pulled back and you spoke.

“Well I’ve got to, uh, go and meet with Captain Fowler. You can wait here I guess,” you muttered before you looked down to the floor and moved past the android, careful to give him a wide berth.

You were tense. You were tense as your feet carried you quick to Fowler’s office, and as you made your way up the short set of stairs, and as you rapped fast and short on the glass door, waiting for the OK to come in. When he motioned for you to enter and you stood in front of his desk, you tried not to tremble as you jabbed your finger out in the direction of the open office.

“All - all due respect, sir but what,” you were straining to contain your voice as you thrust your outstretched index finger towards Connor for emphasis. “is... What is that? What’s going on with that whole situation?”

For a moment, he ignored you as he continued to read the file he had held up in front of him. He laid it flat on the desk and looked up at you. "That is your partner."

"I..." You shook your head. "Captain Fowler, you know I never make demands or requests of any kind. But I - I do not need, or want, to have... A partner, not when it's him." Your voice was low but insistent, bordering on desperate.

Fowler shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody else would take it, Y/N. Hell, Reed threatened to turn his gun and badge in when I tried to assign this thing to him." His eyebrows drew together as he gestured towards you. "I thought you liked androids!"

Your voice was raising, just slightly, a nervous tightness in your gut forming. It was risky to contest against your superior so insistently but - maybe you were being irrational. But you couldn't stop yourself. "Not - not this one - please, please believe me when I say it won't go over well. It won't work, sir -"

"Listen, Y/N,” he shifted to lean back in his seat, “we are literally being paid to put this thing to use. These RK900s have been shipped out across the whole country as part of a plan to clean up the public opinion on androids." He leaned forward again, elbows on his desk. "Cyberlife is putting their ass on the line here. They've gifted the DPD a sizeable amount of money in exchange for our cooperation in showing the public that androids and humans can work together, and that androids can be trusted in public service."

You closed your eyes, voice strained as you tried to convey your desperation. "Please! You don't understand! I never ask for anything, Captain, you know that! But this is a deeply personal, deeply emotional issue -"

"Yeah! I know! The whole goddamn station saw you getting all fuckin' moony-eyed over the last android detective we got sent! But for Christ sake, you're an adult, Y/N! It's an android! Deal with whatever issues you have! This thing has to go somewhere, somewhere it's going to be seen, and I'm not changing my decision. Now if you're done here, you can get out and get to work, before I start writing you up for this bullshit!" he shouted, and pointed to the door.

You sucked in a sharp breath, readying yourself to say more, but you had nothing else. So you just turned tail and left his office.

Connor looked over from across the room, silently observing behind those grey irises with eyebrows slightly raised. You narrowed your eyes, suddenly feeling stifled as the question of what you were going to do? spun around inside your head and all the emotions; the anger and the despair and the grief swelled within you. When you realized your face had twisted up into a red-cheeked, teary-eyed scowl, you turned and hurried to the washroom, cursing yourself the whole way for being unable to contain yourself.

In all truth, you had never expected to have to deal with this particular... issue again. Connor - the old Connor, RK800, had completed his mission; shot the android leader Markus dead, quelling the revolution, and was promptly recalled back to Cyberlife anyways. Without him existing in the world as a constant reminder you took all the feelings, the pain, and the shame, and the affection, and locked them away, neatly compartmentalized where you wouldn’t have to deal with them. But now he was back, or, at least someone was here, someone with his face and his name, someone who was daring to set it all bursting forth.

In front of the mirror, you grit your teeth, looking into the bloodshot eyes staring back. You ran the tap cold and splashed your face, and tried to prevent yourself from crying, although a few rebellious tears escaped and slid down your cheeks.

The thought of working with him repulsed you. Your mind was racing trying to come up with ways to relinquish Connor from your care, to convince Fowler to reassign him. But the reality of it all, was that you allowed yourself to be emotionally manipulated by an android. You let Connor get under your skin and convince you that somewhere, deep inside, he cared, he wanted you and your affections. You let him influence you to do things you didn’t want to do. Or not do things you wanted to. And in the end? Had Connor not pulled you close enough to stop you, you would have tried your damnedest to hinder the investigation and allow the androids to win their freedom.

There was no justifying that to anyone.

——————

The first week was difficult - like pulling teeth. The sight of him every day, standing at your desk and waiting ever so... patiently (patiently? Could you call it patience?) made your insides tense up, and your chest constrict beneath your sagging shoulders. Something screamed “wrong” in your gut every time you found yourself and your actions set underneath the gaze of his grey eyes, ever observing. Though he was carefully programmed not to seem it, you knew him well enough to know he was always, always watching, always analyzing.

It took only a weekend to resign yourself to your fate. Though you didn’t like it, you would tolerate him. You would have to. Fowler had set his foot down; as much as you hated to admit it, the struggle was over before it even begun.

It’s not like Connor wasn’t amiable enough. This new Connor was more terse, somehow more oblivious (scaled back social protocols?), but never explicitly rude. He was not difficult to work with on an interpersonal level. That's why you had to be so cautious around him. Connor was as charming as he was clever and cunning, with a way of infecting you, getting deep underneath your skin.

At the very least, he was good at what he was built for. He certainly wouldn't be bogging down your efforts from day-to-day. It would be useful to have him around.

As much as you tried to tell yourself you were lucky to have such an incredible investigator as your assistant and your assistant alone, you couldn't help the way you tensed when he was near, how you averted your eyes from his form whenever he crossed your line of sight. From the start, you could tell it would be a tense partnership. You didn't expect it to be harmonious in any way but it was difficult to balance caution and cooperation in working with him. What price would you have to pay to work totally smoothly with your partner? What price would you have to pay to be completely careful?

It wasn't an issue before. With Connor - RK800 - you had no worries. You gelled with him instantly, and even Hank came around pretty quick. The old adage of "ignorance is bliss" rang true; it was so easy, so simple to work on the deviancy case when you were convinced there was some feeling within him, some humanity imparted unto him inside his programming that you could relate yourself to. But there wasn't. Connor was just a machine, a master of manipulation.

Hank wanted a son; Connor played the part. You wanted a... companion. You wanted to feel l o v e d wanted, and Connor only danced to your tune.

It didn't matter too much for the first couple weeks of your partnership. Cases were small and slow to come in. The city and its residents were still re-learning what to do with themselves when androids just weren't so widespread anymore.

There was, however, an uptick in red ice related crimes come December. A lack of androids meant a lack of blue blood meant a lack of thirium meant a lack of red ice. Everyone was starting to get desperate, from the addicts desperate for a fix to the drug lords desperate to make their bottom line.

The first murders came to you and Connor on a leisurely morning at the precinct. The bullpen was illuminated with a light, white and warming in the way only winter brings; the sun was beholden to noone's emotional state and for a moment you were turned from your seemingly unending pessimism and discomfort as you strolled into work, coffee in hand. You were greeted by Chris Miller, and Tina Chen. And then you were greeted by Connor, as script-like as ever:

"Good morning, Detective L/N."

"Connor," you said, brief, as you took a sip from your coffee, not looking at him as he stepped out from the dock against the wall and begun to follow you.

"Is there any way I can be of assistance today?" he asked, insistent. This Connor was always a little forceful in tone, but it wasn't too much of an issue for you.

"Mmmm, likely not. Today's just paperwork. Which must, unfortunately, be filled out by a human. Else I would definitely have some work for you," you smirked to yourself, back facing the android as you came to your desk and set your bag down. You looked over your shoulder at him towering behind you. "You can - " there was a marked discomfort in your next words, " - return to your... dock." Something always felt off about that concept.

"Understood," he said, and promptly tuned right back around. You heard the clicking of his shoes against the tile as he retreated from you and you settled yourself at your desk. About an hour of half-working in the relaxation of the morning had passed before Captain Fowler leaned out his door and called to you.

"Y/N! I've got a case for you!" You turned to your head, looking up at him standing half outside the raised glass cube that was his office as he motioned for you to come and turned immediately back in to sit down at his own desk.

You nodded to yourself and stood up, taking the last sip from your mug before you set it down, empty, onto the desk surface and made your way to his office. You turned back around to look at Connor following you and -

He wasn't following you. He was still standing in his little dock cubicle staring straight ahead, completely neutral in expression and posture. You quirked an eyebrow.

"Connor!" You called out to him, and he turned his head towards you, stepping away from the wall one pace. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but seeing as though you're my partner it may be beneficial for you to come and sit in while Fowler tells us about this case," you raise your eyebrows and tilted your head as your hand swooped out to beckon him forward.

"Right. I'm coming." You nodded, the corners of your lips drawing outwards as you continued on your initial path. He followed shortly behind as you made your way up the stairs and into Fowler's office. You sat down in a chair in front of his desk and Connor simply stood, hands clasped behind his back.

"Double homicide," Fowler said curtly after a moment. "I've sent the details to your terminal. We just got the call about two hours ago. The witness was walking her daughter to school when she heard shouting from inside a house on her way. She heard a gunshot come from inside and saw someone leave the scene out the front door, but was too busy fleeing herself with her daughter to get a good look."

"Seems a little early in the morning to be killing people," you mused, leaning back into your seat.

Drawing in a deep breath, he continued. “When our guys got there they found two victims. One stabbed in the neck, the other was shot through the heart. Again, not many details on the guy who ran, but he’s looking to be our prime suspect here.” You nodded along as he explained.

"Is there any information on the identities and backgrounds of the victims?" Connor chimed in.

"There wasn't much identifying information to be found inside the house. We're still waiting for a facial recognition or DNA match to come back," Fowler said. "The address is in the file I sent. Take the android and go have a look, see what you can find out."

"Can do, sir. We'll do out best," you gave a pleasing smile as your stood.

"I know you will. Dismissed," he said, looking up at you and nodding. You turned and exited the office. Connor followed suit. (The old Connor had a habit of lingering in Fowler's office, much to the annoyance of your boss.)

And, well, you couldn't help but to smile a little as you made your way back to your desk. It was exciting, in a way - a little intellectual stimulation to break you out of the rut these past few weeks had you in.

"What are you grinning about coming outta Fowler's office?" You heard a voice, low and gruff call out to you from across the room as you packed your things at your desk. You turned around and held your hands out at your sides.

"Double homicide, my dear Lieutenant!" you beamed at Hank's approaching figure.

"Ah, I see, murder makes us happy now," he said with a joking skepticism as he gazed down at you past the tip of his nose, face tilted slightly up.

"Not the murders, Hank. The case. Could be interesting," you said with a pause, shrugging your packed bag onto one shoulder and crossing your arms as he came to stand in front of you. "You know none of us have had a good case in weeks. Besides, you would be smiling too if your alternative was - " you jabbed your thumb blindly behind you at the terminal on your desk. " - a damn mountain of paperwork.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You're right. It's only a shame that -" he cut off, and his voice dropped a little lower. "Shame you gotta work with him," he said, thrusting his face forward for a split second over your shoulder. You turned around and Connor was standing behind you in the sun. His eyes, for a fraction of a second narrowed as his LED blinked yellow before settling back on blue. He looked over at Hank.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Anderson," he greeted. Always the same tone every time, so precisely neutral and pleasant. Your nose scrunched up as you turned back to face Hank, looking down at your feet.

"Yeah... Morning." he muttered under his breath.

You inhaled sharply. "Well, you know I won't let him hold me back," you smiled apologetically up at him. "Besides, he's good, you and I both know that, unfortunately... Makes him worth having around," you chuckled, and both of you paused for a beat before you reached out and patted the side of his arm.

"We should get going," you sighed. "I'll see you around, yeah?" You moved past him and turn back to walk backwards a few steps.

"Yeah. I'll see ya, Y/N." He and Connor nodded awkwardly at each other as Connor began to follow you.

When you were outside, and standing in the cold, you pulled out your phone and called for a taxi on the app.

"Where are we headed, Detective?" he inquired.

"Someplace called uh, Glengrove Boulevard. New development, if I remember rightly. Nice neighborhood."

"Understood."

You pursed your lips at the abrupt end. Connor, the old Connor, always had a way of filling the silence. Sure, he may have been only gathering information, but it was never awkward, there were no silences hanging in the air like dead weight with him.

It didn't take long for the automated cab to come. When the doors slid open, you turned to Connor, looking into his grey eyes, and gestured your hand towards the vehicle in offerance with raised eyebrows and a tight-lipped smile.

"After you."

[thedevianthunterrk800]

Bouquets (Captain Allen x Reader)

For @connorshero‘s writing challenge!  Sadie, I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “Then maybe it’s best if we didn’t see each other for a few days.” //  “Fine with me.”

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Warnings: none except some good ol’ angst.

Word Count: 1854

Happy Holidays, guys!!! <3 

9:57 PM

He’s late.

He’s more than just late, actually. It’s been almost an hour and a half since he was supposed to come pick you up—or at least call—and yet nothing.

The first time you finally have a date to the annual holiday party at your workplace and of course said date is nowhere to be found.

You’ve already gotten several messages from your coworkers asking when you’ll be coming, if you’re even coming at all, and you don’t know how to reply to them because David is still not here.

The night has been quiet. You doubt he’s out on any secret, life-threatening missions right now. 

So why isn’t he returning your calls?

The clock strikes ten and you throw your coat on. You grab your Secret Santa’s present by the door before you hurriedly walk out of the apartment, shooting Allen a message that you went ahead without him, wherever the fuck he is.

Not that he cares, apparently.

You’re fuming on the drive over, cursing yourself for expecting so much from a man you’ve only been seeing for a month. You understand that his job is time-consuming to say the least, and that he barely has time to see you during the week, but you really, really like him.  

He’s funny. He’s sweet. He may look cold and gruff on the outside, but you swear nobody gives you warmer hugs.

And when he kisses you? Holds you in his arms and gently lifts you off the ground while his lips mold against yours?

Out of this fucking universe.

Naturally, you’re a little surprised he stood you up like this.

David Allen is a good man, no matter what everyone says. If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t have agreed to a second, third, or fourth date. You thought everything was going fantastic, that maybe the two of you would soon move in together or something.

Obviously, that isn’t the case.

You must’ve misunderstood something along the way, or perhaps he simply changed his mind without letting you know. Regardless, the two of you have a lot to talk about the next time you—

Hold. On.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, almost slamming the brakes when you catch sight of his car parked outside what appears to be a bar. You quickly make a U-turn at the next light, narrowly missing the curb, before speeding down the street and pulling up behind his fucking sedan.

Jimmy’s Bar.

“You’re fucking dead, David,” you grumble to yourself as you climb out of your coupe. Squaring your shoulders, you march into the dimly-lit bar, which is unsurprisingly crowded with several members of the DPD, the SWAT team included. It doesn’t take you long to find him at one of the tables in the corner. You weave through the crowd, your eyes never leaving Allen’s slightly-flushed face. When you get closer, your stomach drops as betrayal floods your system.

He looks so fucking happy and you hate him for it.

How dare he?

How could he abandon you on the one night you begged him to spend with you? How could he promise you that he’d be there, that he wouldn’t miss it for the world, and then blow you off so he could get drunk at the bar with the people he sees every fucking day?

You see each other once a week if you’re lucky, but even that seems to be too much for him.

Without really thinking, you approach him, place your hand on his shoulder, and grit out, “Having fun?”

He jumps slightly, turning to you with an astonished expression that quickly morphs into amusement.

“What are you doing here?” he asks with an easy grin, wrapping an arm around your waist. To his surprise, you shove him away before spinning on your heel and marching in the opposite direction. He calls your name but you don’t respond, simply wanting to get out of there ASAP.

Allen catches you outside, gently grabbing your arm. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You round on him then, and he takes a half-step back at the look of pure fury on your face. “Do you know what today is?”

“Er… Friday?”

“Right. Friday.”

He stares at you, calculating. You glare back at him and it takes him all of thirty seconds to realize that something is horribly, horribly wrong.

“Check your phone,” you suggest in a clipped tone that has him wincing. However, he does as he’s told and his eyes widen at the wall of notifications that are no doubt covering his screen.

He sees your first message and blanches. “Oh fuck.”

“Yep.”

“I forgot,” he admits shamefully, and you almost laugh at how pointless that realization is right now. You shake your head as you turn around and walk towards your car. As much as you want to go home right now, you don’t want to leave your Secret Santa without their present. Just because your night is ruined doesn’t mean someone else’s should be, too.

He speeds past you and presses his back against your car door, preventing you from climbing in. You pinch the bridge of your nose, your patience wearing thin. “Dave, move.”

“We can still go,” he points out, offering you a smile that you don’t return. That clearly unnerves him because his smile falters and he looks at you nervously. “Look, I know I fucked up—”

You laugh then, shaking your head and he has the audacity to scowl as though you’re the one in the wrong.

“It’s an honest mistake,” he snaps defensively as you roll your eyes at his pathetic excuse.

“Mistake? You’ve known about this party for weeks. I reminded you this morning, but you couldn’t be bothered to check your phone, could you?”

“I was busy. Sorry I don’t check my phone every fucking second to entertain you.”

You recoil as if you’ve been slapped. What, so this is somehow your fault? Him forgetting an important date is something that is miraculously your own doing?

“You could have called,” you whisper, your voice sounding distant even to you. Allen doesn’t respond for a while and when you glance up, you see him staring off to the side, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I was at work,” he eventually grumbles, still not looking at you. “I don’t… I don’t always have time for shit like this.”

...shit like this, huh?

You grit your teeth. Fine. Fucking fine. If he doesn’t want to make time, then why should you?

Clenching your fists beside you so hard that your fingernails leave crescent indents on your palm, you snarl, “Then maybe it’s best if we didn’t see each other for a few days.”

He doesn’t even blink. “Fine with me.”

And with that, he shoves himself off your car and stalks back into the bar without even throwing you a backwards glance.

With shaking hands, you get into your coupe and drive away.

::

“Flowers for you,” a pleasant voice says, and a bouquet of roses is unceremoniously thrust in your face. You accept the flowers with a stammer of thanks. The Android receptionist beams at you before returning to her desk.

The card attached reads, ‘It’s been a few days.’

There’s no name, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who they’re from.

Your first instinct is to throw the damn thing away, but you can’t find it in your heart to waste something so beautiful. Instead, you walk around the office handing each and every one of your coworkers a rose until you’re only left with the plastic wrapper that once held the stems together.

You don’t call him that evening either.

The next day, he sends over a large teddy bear with no note. You give it to your pregnant coworker who squeals with glee at the sight of the adorable giant plush that you want nothing to do with.

The day after is December 23rd, two days before Christmas and an entire week after that fateful night outside Jimmy’s Bar. You initially planned to spend the holidays with him, but, well, life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.

With a sigh, you wonder what nonsense he’ll send you this time. Whatever it is, you hope it won’t be as obnoxious as the others, which have gotten you more attention from the office than you need or want.

At around noon that day, you get a call from the reception desk about another delivery and you roll your eyes.

You expect Allen to have sent something obnoxious, maybe five more bouquets of flowers, and you’re only partially correct.

You have indeed received some flowers, but just one bouquet.

The delivery man is the true surprise.

“Hey,” greets Allen, holding out the red and white carnations for you to take. Hesitantly, you do so and you don’t miss the way his hand brushes against yours.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in lieu of a greeting and he only sighs.

Scratching the back of his head, he mutters, “Just wanted to see you.”

“Right.”

“Look, let me take you out to lunch and—”

“I’m busy,” you retort without missing a beat, only feeling slightly guilty at the way his face falls at your immediate rejection. Before you lose your nerve, you add, “I don’t always have time for shit like this.”

He lets out a small laugh and holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I deserve that.”

“You really do,” you agree. Then you bite your lip. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“How can you forget?”

“I’m a dumbass,” Allen admits readily, as though he’s been thinking it all week. You don’t know this, but that’s exactly the case.

You smile a little, and his eyes soften at the sight. “You are.”

He reaches out and takes your hand. You subconsciously move closer and he grins. “Can I make it up to you?”

It’s so difficult to stay mad at him, especially when deep down you know you’ve missed his sorry ass terribly. It doesn’t help that he looks and sounds so damn sincere and apologetic. It would be infinitely easier to stay pissed if he hadn’t spent the past few days sending you apology gifts and now, visiting you and offering to make things better.

Wordlessly, you walk over to the reception desk to deposit the flowers. Allen follows you worriedly, already promising that he won’t ever forget another date, but you quickly cut him off with a deep, indulgent kiss that leaves him speechless.

You pull away just as he begins to return the favor and he growls a little when you block his lips with your palm.

“I’m off in two hours. Be ready to sweep me off my feet.”

With bright eyes, he nods eagerly and presses a soft kiss on the palm still covering his mouth.

The two of you spend the holidays together, and on New Year’s Eve, he asks you to move in.

One year later, he proposes right there in front of the reception desk.

[miraclerangercastello]

Ace(RK-900) and Reader

Prompt: I let you in,I don't let people in

Warning to @connorshero (I don't really know how many words this will have and since I'm on mobile idk how to put under the more thing..sorry

Y/N and Ace had gotten along very well eventhough she was Just in a separate job line than ace's and sometimes their schedules wouldn't find a break,but amanda the AI saw there was more to their relationship than it seemed,so she made sure that with another RK-900 Model Y/N was brought to the cyberlife tower and face her worst fears in some sort of Framework,when Ace discovered this..he had to make a choice, Either stick to his programing and Risk Y/N's Sanity and most possibly her life or becoming a deviant and attempt to save her from whatever nightmare she was put through..soon Ace made his choice..he broke his programing walls.. he became the one thing he was meant to hunt,but that didn't matter to him,all that mattered was Y/N's Safety,and with his skills and determination he accomplished the mission he set for himself..

Once in the Safe ground Y/N asked

"You didn't have to do that..becoming a deviant to save me..why did you?"

'Because I've been having complex emotions around you..since..since..I let you in,I don't let people in..It makes all easier..but for whatever circustances,you were the only exception to the rule'

As soon as this was heard she kissed him lightly

"I felt that with you too..this complex emotion you feel.. it's called love"

'There are many types of love Y/N but I have a sense,this may be like the type of love you see in movies and books..the healthier kind'

Y/N Chuckled "Yes.. That's right"

'I'm very fortunate to have met you'

"I'm glad I met you too"