#even connor who’s *slightly* more well adjusted than the rest (and i mean slightly) clearly has issues and logan treats him like shit too

[gregmarriage]

succession’s way of characters dropping horrible tidbits of information into casual conversation/scenes where something horrible happens and it’s implied this isn’t the first time, will never not fuck me up

[one-boring-person]

Fair Game.

T-800 x reader (Terminator: Judgement Day version)

Warnings: sexual themes mentioned, gun use

Context: The T-800 wants to learn to be more human.

A/N: I absolutely love the terminator films, so I will try and write more for them, even though it's not very popular amongst you guys 😅 this is just some idea I've had rattling around in my head, so enjoy!

P.S. To the people who have requested things, I have not forgotten or ignored you! I'm just in the process of writing them out, so I should have one out by tomorrow.💛

Masterlist

The temperature has slowly gotten cooler over the last few hours or so, the sky beginning to darken a little until the last light comes from the rays of sun just cresting over the horizon, casting the landscape in an orange tint. Annoyingly, it also means I can't see what I'm doing, the shape of each separate part of the assault rifle in my hands nearly indistinguishable as they start blurring into each other. A sigh of irritation leaves me as I put them down again, stretching my back as I stand up from the picnic bench again, shaking the stiffness from my joints, my body cramping from sitting in the same position for hours. My hands ache, too, my palms and fingers coated in a layer of gun oil, a result of the rigourous cleaning I've put the weapons through, something which wasn't necessarily required, but I felt like doing anyway, to take my mind off the more gruesome details of the past day or so, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

Just yesterday, John and I were messing around in the arcade, using his hacking skills to our advantage as he stole some money, the two of us having a great time with his friend, who we had to leave behind, for his own safety. A cop went around asking others about John, making the mistake of questioning our friend, who then let us know of the possible danger of being caught, prompting us to run, trying to escape another warning from the feds. From that point onwards, everything went pear shaped: another man appeared from nowhere and shot the cop, who had pulled a gun on us, saving us from certain death as he then gave us time to escape, letting us both get back to our motorcycles, which we promptly used to get away, speeding as quickly as possible down into the aquaducts, where we know our way round pretty well. Leading the cop on a long chase, we soon became very knowledgeable of the fact that our bikes are nowhere near as fast as the truck the cop was chasing us in, meaning we very nearly got hit by it. Long story short, the man from before saved the two of us, before explaining to us what exactly is happening.

Having been in John's close friend circle for most of our time together, the information I learnt was not too surprising; a cyborg (the cop) has been sent back in time from the future to kill him, so he can't lead the resistance against a future mechanized army, a T-1000 made of liquid metal, though another cyborg, a T-800 this time, has been sent back to save him. Having established this, we quickly found that our foster parents had been murdered by the T-1000, leaving the two of us mostly parentless, though John still has his mother, who we broke out of a mental institute last night. And now here we are, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, sheltering with a friend of her's called Enrique.

The sound of steady footsteps draws me from my reverie, my head snapping round as I notice the T-800 walking towards me, it's expressionless face mostly in shadow now because of the setting sun. Turning to face him, I pick up the gun components once more and start methodically putting them back together again, trying to ignore him as he comes up to me, annoyed that my mind has formed an attachment to the handsome cyborg already within two days of knowing him.

"You have experience in the use of firearms." It's not a question, but rather a statement, the cyborg's deep, accented voice resonating in my ears.

"My parents, my real parents that is, were fugitives. They showed me how to use weapons from as young as I could hold them. They thought I needed to be ready to protect myself." I laugh dryly, "I never thought they'd actually be right about something."

"This will be useful in the war." He states tonelessly, watching as I slot the magazine back into the stock, loading it ready for immediate use.

"If I make it that far." I murmur, putting the assembled gun back down on the table, turning my body to properly face him, "Did you need something?"

"No. I am trying to learn "small talk". John Connor has told me to be more human, and that is what he recommends." He reveals, standing beside me, his body towering over mine.

"Oh, right, well that's fair game, I guess." I smile, knowing that the bond between my foster brother and the cyborg has grown quickly, which is unsurprising given the willingness to learn on both of their behalf.

"What is "fair game"?" The T-800 looks over at me, brow furrowed slightly.

Stuck for words, I try to figure out how to explain it, only to be distracted by the sight of two of the younger members of the group already living here making out a little way away. Clenching my jaw, I look down at my feet, a pang of jealousy making itself known.

"Its a figure of speech. I use it to clarify whether I think something is a relatively good idea or not." I finally answer him, unable to resist another look at the couple, which he catches and follows.

"Why do you kiss?" He inquires again, watching unashamedly as the couple make out passionately.

"You mean people? People kiss when they are romantically involved with each other, or if they want to reassure each other. It's a sign of love. Not that I'd know." I say the last part quietly, hoping he won't hear it, "Get it?"

"No."

I smile sadly at this, not really expecting him to understand it, given that it is an extension of human affection, something which he does not really know how to do.

"Maybe one day." I say to him wistfully, leaning back against the table behind me.

"Affirmative. I will understand when I have a concept of human behaviour." He states, turning back to face me, standing much closer than before, "What is wrong?"

I look up as he asks this, having been staring at the floor dejectedly, trying to think up whether there will be a "one day" or not. I've always been a pessimist, but situations like this do not help.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just a little...down, I guess." I explain to him, sighing.

He frowns, clearly confused by the terminology.

"Down meaning sad in this context." I inform the T-800, clarifying what I mean.

A look of understanding dawns on his face, before a look of deep concentration replaces it. Suddenly, he steps forwards, caging me into the table, his hands coming to rest on my hips, pulling me into his hard body. Instinctually, my hands move to lay themselves on his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath them move as he picks me up and places me onto the table behind me, pressing closer. Before I can say a word, I feel his lips smooth themselves against mine, their cool, dry surfaces moulding with mine as I reciprocate out of instinct, enjoying the feeling of him kissing me as he wraps his hands around my body. Somehow, he manages to draw my mouth open, slipping his tongue into it to lick at the interior of my mouth, swallowing my moans and grunts of air, his hands slipping under my shirt and onto my bare skin. Arching into him, I card my fingers through his hair, pulling gently as he presses even closer, his abnormal strength pushing me down onto the table beneath me, his muscular arms caging me in underneath his huge body. Propping myself up on my elbows, I try to keep up with him, only to fall back as he pulls away and starts kissing down my neck, easily finding my sweet spot. Licking and sucking at it, he allows his hands to roam over my body to my ass, gripping it gently as he holds me close to his chest.

"What in the hell are you doing?!" John's voice suddenly cuts through the haze of pleasure, drawing my attention away from the T-800, who stops what he is doing to look at the boy, helping me upright again as he answers.

"I am reassuring (Y/n). She told me that kissing is a form of reassurance to people." He recites, looking over at me again, his eyes slightly less dead than normal.

"Generally those kisses don't look like that." John points out, looking slightly disgusted as I try to adjust myself again, embarrassed and flustered as hell.

"What do they look like, then? My files show that that is normal."

"Normal for people who are in love! For other people, it tends to be a quick kiss on the forehead, or cheek!" The boy continues to argue.

"If it makes you feel any better, John, then I feel a lot more relaxed now. It worked really well." I interject, shyly, looking down with my cheeks flushing red.

"Then it is a successful method." The T-800 says, clearly confused.

John goes to reply again, only to be cut off by the sound of a car door slamming. Turning, we see Sarah suddenly climb into the corresponding car, the engine starting as she puts it into drive, not looking back as she leaves the camp, John racing after her, screaming for her.

"Don't try kissing him to reassure him. I don't think it will work for him." I inform the cyborg beside me, smiling up at him as he gives me his own version of one, though it looks much more like a grimace than a smile.

"That is fair game."

[mariinara]

REDAMANCY. (Sam Drake x Reader) PROLOGUE.

A/N: Oh, sweet mother Theresa.. I've been holding this secret for so long. The idea came to me when @the-winchesterboys pitched it as just a fluff request, but I decided to make a whole series out of it. So, I can proudly say that this is a sort of collaboration that gave birth to my first Sam Drake fic. ♡

Tags: @the-drakeboys , @the-winchesterboys , @missdictatorme , @samdrakeftw , @hrgnm , @purplezebra68 , @s4mdrake , @unchartedterritoria

Summary: You're a retired treasure-hunter who had brief history with Sam before the events of Panama, after which you were heartbroken, but met your current fiance, Connor Walsh. You get an unexpected call from a certain someone, asking you to embark on one last adventure together through London and Morocco to uncover a childhood mystery, during which you confront each other, reflect on your past, and rekindle the relationship that might cost you your pretend peaceful life.

Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama/Comedy

Rating: 18+

(PROLOGUE, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

  Location: United States, Boston suburbs.

                       __________________

Your paint roller glided smoothly across the wall of your new study room, the wetness glistening with the bright ray of sunlight from your open window. You found yourself smiling in comfort whilst covering the white, dusty pasty color with a refreshing coat of the faintest shade of beige: a color that beautifully complimented the oak-wood theme of your furniture. It was also a color that represented conservativeness, neutrality, and serenity-- The very same traits that you’ve decided to embrace as a new years’ resolution. You knew it was going to be by no means an easy task. 

If you would’ve displayed any of those traits in the profession you’d left behind, you would’ve been dead. 

You’ve always been an excessive, adventurous, fiery, driven human being. It ran in your veins-- this treasure-hunting hogwash. Whether your expeditions proved fruitful or not, you grew obsessed with that adrenaline surge that rushed through you. That little thrill that came with uncovering world secrets or stumbling upon a marvelous find. The extreme enjoyment you got out of surviving a situation that so clearly was against your odds. The way goosebumps riddled your sweaty skin as you leaped from one cliff to the other. Holding onto a rope for dear life as you swung across. You got off on those sort of reckless heroics, but ever since you met him and you’d clicked immediately, his docile nature immediately rubbed off on you. 

There you were, painting your study while reminiscing about your time in Shambhala, where you and your fiance-- Connor -- met. He was a journalist who came along with Elena and her cameraman Jeff and, from what the relationship between him and Elena suggested, they were both co-workers and rivals. He’d gotten there to uncover Lazarevic’s malicious plot first and was doing okay until Elena and Jeff showed up. Though the bickering between them was childish, Connor was an extremely calm, collected, and understanding human being when it counted. Besides that, he was smart, clever, focused, practical, and he was handsome in a very nerdy way. 

He looked like your typical, struggling journalist. He was tall, pasty skin and rosy cheeks. Sort of broad and built. Always had a shirt on that was slightly crinkled at the hem, since he’d get sick of having it tucked into his pants and would yank it out. A habit you grew to smile at and shake your head. His bright green, curious eyes were framed with a pair of glasses that only a semi-visually impaired person would wear. The lenses were so thick that they formed sort of a weight on the bridge of his nose that would eventually leave red marks where they sat. 

He was nowhere near your type of man. As far as Nathan - the man whom you took care of for a long time before he stumbled upon Elena - knew, your type happened to be that sort of man with an infuriatingly charming air about him. Tall, broad, had tattoos that held meaning to him only. Thick Boston accent and a shit-eating grin that made you roll your eyes but smile, nonetheless. The kind of man that made you weak in the knees with just a wink or a suggestive eyebrow raise. 

A heartbreaker, who ripped away every shred of happiness when he left you almost sixteen years ago to wallow in self-doubt and pure despair. The type of man who both gave meaning to your life at one point, but ended up completely ruining you at another. And by the time he’d made a surprising appearance in your lives, you were a changed woman who had a loving boyfriend who made you forget about all of your past troubles. Your heart aches and most of all, Samuel Drake.

It was a little over a year ago since the last time you'd seen him and though Connor had no idea about your past, Sam had a pretty good picture about your relationship with Connor. Boyfriend of almost six years, about to be engaged to you. The works. 

Sam felt like a complete stranger to you and you were no longer the woman he'd fallen in love with. Or at least you thought so. 

He was so foreign to you, even though he was the exact same person. But you were simply not. Back at Libertalia, you couldn't even bear to talk to him for more than a minute and you didn't know why. It was like talking to a phantom. A figment of your imagination. Looking at him reminded you of all the days you couldn't breathe when his memorial day rolled in every year. It reminded you how broken and dysfunctional you were for the first five years of him not holding you or saying something clever to make you laugh in utter embarrassment. It made you remember how cold you were when you slept on the bed you once shared with him, with his side of the bed empty and untouched for years on end. The years and years of therapy and PTSD. 

Looking at him reminded you of everything that you worked so hard to forget and while you knew that it wasn't fair for him, it was just as unfair to you. 

You finally had your life together and you didn't want anything or anyone standing in the way.

Not even him. 

The fact that you'd parted ways on a bad note as well the last time you'd seen each other didn't at all help. 

Libertalia was an adventure you thoroughly enjoyed and loved deeply. You even had some souvenirs and trinkets from there. But the reason you went there altogether was because you didn't want Sam to die again. To leave you and Nathan. The incentive was purely dutiful since you grew up with both of them, but nothing more. 

Or at least you thought so.

You took a few steps back, your eyes studying the freshly painted wall. Slowly, a satisfied smile crept up to your lips as you wiped your forehead from the sweat, being careful so as to not get your paint-covered fingers on your face. Your hands then wiped against the front of your stained apron with a deep sigh, "God, I'm good." You told yourself with a proud smirk and whipped your head around once you heard the sound of a heavy, cardboard box slump on the floor. Your eyes trailed up to be met with Connor's green ones and he smiled as he stretched his back and walked towards you. He was standing next to you, his arm around your waist, holding you close to his side as he stared at your handiwork.

"Wow.." He chuckled with an impressed nod, "This looks great."

You rested your head on his shoulder, a big smile on your face, "You sound surprised." 

He paused a little, "I am–" You lifted your head and playfully glared at him, making him laugh lightly, "Just a little. Calm down..!" 

With a sigh and a shake of your head, you patted his ass with your dry paint-covered hand and he jumped a little, letting out a small surprised noise, "Alright, then, nerd." You ripped yourself from him and looked around, seeing all those boxes that you needed to empty. They were covering the floor from the entrance of the study to the hallway outside and even the kitchen's island had smaller boxes on top, full of utensils and everything from the kitchen of your old apartment, "That's all of 'em?" You asked, sort of hopeful that you wouldn't have to unpack another one of those nightmares.

"Yep." Connor responded, "I'm hungry, though. How 'bout dinner first?" He suggested and you couldn't be more relieved since you were starved.

"Sounds good."

Your fiance smiled sweetly at you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips that lasted for a while before he pulled away, "I'll go get started with the kitchen stuff, then."

You smiled back at him, your eyes trailing down to look at the messy collar of his shirt, only for your hand to adjust it and smoothen down the shoulders, "Alright, dear."

And he was off to the kitchen, maneuvering around boxes as he did. You watched him for a couple of seconds, feeling as if your life was finally falling into place. That everything was perfect. That you were healed.

As if God didn't want that for you, your cellphone rang in your back pocket, almost startling you. With an exasperated sigh, you untied your apron and crumpled it in your hands, reaching in for your phone with the other. 

Upon seeing the caller ID, your demons crawled back up to gnaw the back of your brain. Your eyes widened briefly and you glanced towards the empty hallway Connor passed through earlier. You contemplated not answering, but knowing him, he was probably in trouble.

Your thumb hovered above the 'reject' icon, your brows furrowed and your heart thumping violently against your ribcage, as if begging to jump out. And against your better judgement, you swiped the 'accept' icon, pulling the phone to your ear slowly and giving your back to the door. 

You heard what sounded like a sigh of relief on the other line. 

"I thought you'd never answer."

You paused for a second, rubbing your forehead with your fingers, "It was tempting."

He chuckled, somewhat bitterly, "Why didn't you?"

You rested your hand on your hip, your eyes flickering all around the room, as if searching for an answer, but you found yourself talking without even thinking, "Because I feel obligated not to." You responded, "You don't usually call, either, so you must be in some sort of trouble."

You heard silence from him for a second, "You know why I don't call. I dunno how your guy would react."

You raised a brow, glancing over your shoulder at the door to make sure Connor wasn't close, "And you thought now's a good time because..?"

"Because I need you."

You inhaled deeply at his reply. A dreadful feeling resided in the pit of your stomach. Something about the way he said that didn't rest well with you, but you knew what he meant.

You looked up to the ceiling, trying your best to bite back a mean response, "What do you want, Sam?"

"Right.." You heard shuffling on his end, sounding like papers and clanking glass, "I'll get to the point."

"Please."

"Remember when we were younger? That book I used to love."

Of course you remembered. You'd stay up all night with Sam, sitting on a bench under streetlights, listening to his stories from the book he so loved. He was so theatrical, acting everything out, doing the pirate accents, deepening his voice, hiding one eye with his hand to give the effect of an eye patch.

How could you possibly forget?

"A general history of the robberies and murders of the most notorious pirates." You responded with a small, wistful smile that you weren't aware of, "Yeah."

"Remember when I said how it was complete bullshit?" 

"You were pretty disappointed.." You muttered in amusement, going over to your desk to sit on the edge.

Sam chuckled lightly, "Then you remember my never-ending babbling about Red Rackham's treasure."

"Sam." You stopped him, feeling the uncomfortable feeling bubbling up to claw at your chest, "Where's this going?" You cautiously asked, narrowing your eyes at nothing in particular.

Another long pause came from him, and with each passing second, you felt your anxiety bubble up more.

"I know where it got sunk."

"Where what got sunk?"

"The unicorn."

You pinched the bridge of your nose at the familiar name of the sunken pirate ship and shook your head, "You can't possibly be doing this on my moving day." You tried to keep your voice low but your dismay was extremely clear and you could almost see him frowning at your tone.

"Moving day?" He asked. You suddenly remembered how transparent he was. He did no effort to hide his bitterness and you could so clearly hear it.

You shook your head and decided to divert the subject, "I don't do that kinda thing anymore, Sam. You know that." 

He snorted, "Since when?"

"Since Libertalia." You retorted, "Since Connor, Sam. He doesn't do that sorta thing, either."

"That–That is good for him, but I know for a fact that that's not who you are."

You let out a humourless laugh and threw your hand up in frustration, "I'm not waiting for you to tell me who I am; I know what I want."

"No, you don't."

You were about to snap at him, but something stopped you. What would you say to that? Was this really who you were? The way Sam put it made you doubt almost everything. 

"Doesn't matter, Sam. I'm happy, okay?"

"You may be now, but the more you fight it, the more you're gonna hate him and hate your life, sweetheart." 

"What are you trying to do?" You asked, in a surrendered voice, your hand tightening around your phone.

"Give you a chance." He replied easily, not even giving it a thought, "This is our story. Our treasure. You were obsessed with this as much as I was. Your journal, your hand drawn maps.." He paused, "I still have 'em.."

You shook your head, feeling your resolve crumble with the sentence he added at the end, looking down at your feet, "What am I gonna tell Connor..?"

"You'll figure somethin' out." He said, his voice a bit hopeful, knowing that he broke your thick skin a bit, "C'mon. Whaddya say..? You and me. One last time?"

You inhaled deeply. 

He was right. You have been obsessed with finding that treasure for the longest time as wanderlust-struck teenagers. It was like your Everest. But you never got around to it, since it all reminded you of him. You didn't want to embark on that journey without him by your side. And now that he was there, you could finally finish the book of journeys. To fulfill the last of your wishes. 

Maybe then you'd be able to live happily with Connor, without having to deal with the burden of having something missing.

And so, you smiled and nodded to yourself, "Okay." You responded simply, earning a relieved chuckle from him, "Sully's gonna be there, though, right?"

"You could say that."

You frowned, "What's that mean?" 

"He'll be there at some point." He vaguely replied, making you roll your eyes, "Just make sure you're there by tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night..?" You asked, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, feeling the fatigue roll over you stronger than ever, "Where do I need to go?"

"London. Bloomsbury." 

You ripped a paper from your notebook, holding the phone against your ear with your shoulder, and grabbed a pen, yanking off the cover with your teeth and writing down the address.

"Okay.." You muttered.

"Euro hotel. The room's under Victor's name. You know what to do."

You felt your heart beating faster as you wrote the last letter, with the small P.S. about the reservation name. 

You let out a shaky breath and held the phone in your hand again, straightening up, "Got it. I'll be there at nine."

"Perfect." You could practically hear the grin in his voice, "See ya soon, sweetheart." 

You smiled softly and nodded, "See you soon.." 

You held the phone against your ear until it went blank and that's when you realized what you've just gotten yourself into.

There you were again. With no self-control when you heard the words treasure and adventure. You were so caught up in the childhood memories that you didn't think of what you'd actually tell Connor and, for some reason, the truth wasn't an option.. 

You heard him calling out your name from the kitchen and you quickly whipped your head towards the door, inhaling deeply to calm your jagged nerves. You found yourself fiddling with the engagement ring on your finger and you looked down at your hands, pursing your lips together tightly.

'No backing out now..' You thought.

You exhaled and forced a smile to your face, "Comin', honey!" You called out cheerfully, quickly stuffing the note with the address in your back pocket, hurrying out of the study room.

[monstersandmaw]

Male merman x male reader (nsfw) - Mermay Story #2

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Well, plot happened amid my planned porn. Oh well! Here's 7692 words for you! It’s been up on Patreon on early release. My lovely patrons have just been told who’s up next, so if you want to know, and more importantly be involved in the next poll and get your sticker and reward when I hit 100 patrons, head on over to Patreon and sign up! 

Anyway, here's Connor. Light warnings for alcohol and the after-effects of a painful breakup. And... uh... two tentacle cocks. *shrugs*

___

Boxes.

Dozens of badly packed, disorganised, straining-at-the-seams cardboard boxes filled your new small seaside cottage, some marked, others not, all hastily packed, and the thought of dealing with them at the tail end of a long day was just… overwhelming.

In a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable, you simply shut the front door behind you, with its cheery red paint peeling slightly under the influence of many a winter storm, and set off down the quayside with the only thing you’d not even packed away for the move: your camera.

It was your faithful workhorse, a chunky, veritable beast, and it earned you your living, so there was no way you’d risk packing it away in anything other than its soft, protective case for the move. It had sat beside you in the van as you’d driven it down the winding, cobbled streets of the old town of Starfall Springs, heading for your new home. And now as you set out into the spring evening, the pavements gleaming in the wake of a sudden shower, it hung around your neck, the familiar weight a comfort in the constant flux and chaos of moving house.

Seagulls whirled and wheeled overheard in crazy, lazy circles, and the constant lap and slap of the sea against the harbour wall and the hulls of the little pleasure and fishing crafts moored in the weedy harbour formed a constant backdrop to your evening walk.

Groups of locals gathered at the edge of the town to watch the sunset and stretch their legs after work or before dinner.

A minotaur’s hearty laugh made you look round, and you saw a blue roan centaur talking with the tiniest goblin you’d ever seen. She was barely three feet tall, and was standing on a bench to talk to the centaur, but she had him laughing and tossing his head with a very equine delight all the same.

A couple of gnoll cubs scrapped and snarled on the playground just set back from the harbour road, and a shy looking werewolf cub looked on in awe and longing.

You documented the light and the angles, but it was the stack of lobster pots, with their woven, birdcage appearance, that snagged your eye and drew you away from the more obvious spots towards the quieter shadows of the harbour.

Raising your camera to your eye, you tweaked the shutter speed as the light changed, and adjusted the focus with a subtle twist of your wrist.

Behind the network of the crisscrossing lines of the lobster and crab pots, the surface of the sea formed a calm, beaten bronze backdrop, gilded by the sinking sun, the tiny waves like hammer marks in a sheet of polished metal. You lost yourself for a moment, just staring out at it with boats bobbing and the waves nudging against the slimy stone of the harbour wall.

Breaking that magical surface, a figure appeared in the water for a moment, and you adjusted the focus instinctively, framing them as they breached the surface. The figure was one of the merfolk who lived in the area, and you almost regretted taking the photo without their knowledge. This was not a wildlife shoot after all, and despite the lithe, muscular tail, they were no mere fish. You’d worked with a rough and tumble tiger shark mer out on a shoot in the tropics the previous year, but aside from her, you’d had little contact with them. And every shoal and pod was different, especially in their attitudes towards humans. Some were chilled and helpful towards humans, while others were shy and reclusive, and there were those that were even predatory.

You assumed that here in Starfall Bay, the merfolk would be at least tolerant of humans. How tolerant of paparazzi humans they would be was a different matter, and you lowered your camera.

This mer was clearly enjoying the evening sun as much as the landfolk who strolled along the promenade. They rolled onto their back and you saw a long, lean, grey-blue tail rising up to balance them and hold them at the surface as they spread their arms and floated there like a snoozing sea otter; except this ‘sea otter’ had the lower half of a creature as lean and streamlined as a shark, or perhaps a marlin. This was a predator.

Your feet took you, almost without your realising it, towards the end of the harbour wall, and as you neared the final few yards of the curving stone cob, you felt a wild and bold urge sweep through you. You sat down on a rusty old cleat and dangled your feet off the edge, well clear of the waves, but it was obvious that you were watching the mer.

After no more than a minute, they saw you. Long black hair trailed in the water, and sharp, wet cheekbones glimmered in the sinking sun. A lopsided grin flashed, and they flipped over and swam a little closer. “Enjoying the show?” came the question in a husky, rich tenor voice.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” you said.

“Sure. Not been this close to a mer before?” he said playfully, and in a flash of his powerful tail, he was mere metres from your dangling feet. If he’d wanted to, he could have darted up and yanked you into the water. The thought gave you a strange thrill. Instead, he floated there and looked up at you with dark eyes glittering.

“Just once,” you said carefully.

He raised a sculpted eyebrow at you. Gods, but he was handsome. He had one of those faces that could have been painted by an Old Master and hung in a gallery somewhere; all sharp angles that caught the light perfectly, and framed by a curtain of shoulder-length black hair. You’d have loved to have taken his photo in that moment, with the light playing so beautifully on his features. He had a row of pointed teeth too, like a shark. He tilted his head. “Oh?”

“She was a tiger shark mer,” you said, without elaborating further. Let him infer what he chose from that.

The mer grinned broadly, showing off all those pretty white teeth. “You like us dangerous I see…”

You snickered at that and leaned back on your hands, your camera resting on your chest. “She was helping me with a job.”

The mer turned from playful to curious in a heartbeat. “What kind of job?”

You waggled your DSLR at him. “Photography. We were trying to film green sea turtles for a program on endangered species, and she was one of the mer who guarded the reserve where they’re being protected.”

“Sweet,” he said. “Nice to see our two species actually working together for a change.” A tinge of bitterness crept into his voice, but you let it slide.

“I know. We both had a blast doing it.”

He grinned and then the smile slipped from his face and he turned away, webbed hands waving slightly in the clear water of the harbour to keep himself above water.

“You… ok?” you asked hesitatingly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Fuck.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate. All the fun seemed to have gone out of him, like the sparkle of a bubble suddenly pricked and burst. He sighed and his shoulders drooped. He dipped beneath the surface and raked his clawed fingers through his long hair, scraping it back off his handsome face.

“What are you doing here in Starfall Springs?” he asked after a moment. “No endangered species here. Unless you’re documenting humans, that is…” he added with a wry smile. “Not too many of those here…”

“I actually just moved here,” you said gently, hoping that whatever it was that had darkened his mood would pass as swiftly as a scudding cloud.

He turned and looked directly at you. “Really?” he said. “Why did you settle on this place?”

You shrugged. “The lady I’m renting from had really good rates, and I want to expand my personal portfolio,” you said, camera in hand. “The landscape round here is amazing, particularly the coast.”

He smiled. “It’s gorgeous,” he agreed. “If you head slightly north there’s this huge sandy bay with enormous rock arches, and sometimes you can find fossils in the cliffs.”

“Sounds great,” you said, eyes going wide.

He paused. “I could show you if you like?” he said after a moment.

Your brows knitted. “You serious?”

He grinned. “Sure, why not?”

“I mean… you don’t exactly know me…?”

Again, the mer shrugged, a twinkle coming back to his eyes that made you lick your lips subconsciously. “So?” he said. “You free tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah,” you said. “Anything to put off unpacking all the boxes from the move…”

He laughed, a sound like sunlight on still water, and you found yourself beaming back at him.

“Ok, meet me tomorrow at 10am on the old bridge into town.”

“Wait, what?”

He simply grinned and disappeared with a flick of his tail, leaving you with about a million questions and no one to ask.

The next morning you made your way through the winding old streets of Starfall Springs and hurried towards the old bridge. You were wearing your usual ‘photography-ramble’ clothing - namely a nondescript and slightly nerdy t-shirt, and scruffy jeans - and the day was fast warming up. The bridge was empty when you arrived, but you checked the time and realised you were fifteen minutes early anyway.

You leaned your body against the ancient stones of the wall and peered over the edge. The water rushed down, clear and quick, from the eponymous springs above the town, and swept away into the harbour and out to sea. The way the water weed danced in the current was mesmeric, and, yes, incorrigible as ever, you whipped your camera out for a closeup of the textures and play of light on the water. It rippled, and yet was smooth as blown glass, and it caught your attention so fully that you almost didn’t notice the person approaching you until he came to a halt right beside you and leaned his backside against the wall and laughed, folding his arms across his slender chest.

You jumped, almost dropping your camera in surprise, though luckily the neck-strap earned its keep and saved the camera from a plummet to a soggy doom below (and not for the first time). You turned and had been about to scowl disapprovingly at the young man, both for invading your personal space quite so closely, and for interrupting you mid-photo, but the words died on your tongue when you recognised the handsome figure a second later. You knew your jaw was hanging open in shock, but you couldn’t wipe the stupid expression from your face.

The mer - who now had legs and clothes - simply tipped his head back, his long, blue-black hair tied in a low, scruffy bun at the nape of his neck, and laughed. “Oh man,” he said, eyes watering. “You should see your face.”

“But… how?” you faltered.

“Brackish mer,” he said. “We can shift at will. Though I still find these fuckers… weird,” he said, slapping one lean, skinny, denim-clad thigh with the palm of his hand. He wore a plain grey t-shirt and nondescript, slightly baggy jeans which rode invitingly low on his narrow hips. Your mouth went dry and you looked away.

“Well, that’s… unexpected,” you finally said.

“I’m Connor, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand to you. His fingers bore traces of webbing between them, stretching between the first knuckles of his fingers. Another reminder that although he walked on human legs, he was not, in fact, the same species. Your eyes darted to his neck and, sure enough, you saw three faint, almost scar-like, lines where his gills should be. Or perhaps they were still there but had closed over for his time on land. Merfolk anatomy was still very much a mystery to you.

You shook his hand as you introduced yourself by name, and felt how cool his skin was against yours. His grip was strong, his hands hard and smoothly callused. You wondered fleetingly what they’d feel like on your body. Fuck. Not helping.

Even in this new human form, he still had his row of pointed, predatory teeth, of which you were granted a beautiful view when he hitched his lips up into a lopsided grin and said, “Ready?”

You nodded mutely and allowed him to lead you through the town towards the northern side. A wide road led out of Starfall Springs, and Connor talked a mile a minute about everything as you passed it. He pointed out the marketplace on your left, and added, “I sell my catches there on Fridays.”

“You mean… you’re…”

“A fisherman,” he said. “Yes. There’s literally nothing, save for maybe another marlin mer, that can out-swim me. Even the tuna. I work with a team of open-water fishermen. We catch tuna and other fish and bring ‘em to market once a week. Sometimes we’re out for longer though.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a month or even six weeks sometimes? Depends on what we want to catch.”

“Do many of your kind do that sort of work? Are the rest of your crew merfolk?”

Connor shook his head. “Nah. It’s just me with the fish-tail on the team. And… most of my folks just keep to themselves, you know? They don’t get why I like humans and landfolk so much, and even though they can shift, they don’t.”

You tilted your head and snatched a sidelong look at him as you walked. He was lean and clearly very fit, with no sign of being puffed or overly warm despite the growing heat of the summer day. You on the other hand were getting distinctly warm under the collar, though you weren’t sure if it was the sun or the presence of the gorgeous merman walking beside you that was causing the reaction. You had your suspicions, though you kept those firmly to yourself.

Connor caught the look you gave him and tossed you another carefree grin. “Not quite sure what you’re thinking, but I’ll take a wild guess. Not all merfolk can shift, you know? And not many can shift the way we do. The more we do it, the easier it gets. Though it still hurts like a bitch.”

“What’s so fascinating about us? I mean, why do you do it?” you asked. As you did so, you caught sight of a butterfly sunning itself on an old, stone mile-marker and paused to focus your camera on it. The two of you had come to the edge of the town now, and the rolling countryside slid away from you in a series of gentle, undulating slopes adorned with orchards and vineyards to the north west, and the coastal road slid away to the north east.

All the while you snuck closer to the butterfly, Connor stayed silent and still on the road behind you, and when you’d got so close you could see the feather-like mosaic of colours on the butterfly’s wings through the view-finder, you snapped some shots, checked them reflexively, and then pulled back and blushed slightly to find him staring at you.

“What?” you challenged gently.

Connor only grinned and said, “Nothing. I just… wouldn’t have noticed that. You’ve got a quick eye, you know?”

You answered his gesture with one of your own. “Comes with the career, I guess.”

He led you off down a rugged footpath, having left your question about the fascination of landfolk unanswered, and as you passed by a battered-looking hut on your right, nestled among tall, flowering grasses dotted here and there with poppies, he said, “A friend of mine lives there. He’s a mer too, but he actually spends most of his time on land. Fuck though, you should see him as a mer. He’s got this big orca tail and these gorgeous markings…” he sighed.

“Sounds like you’ve got a crush,” you blurted.

Connor barked a laugh. “I did,” he admitted. “As a teenager, I crushed so hard on him that I forgot how to swim once and crashed straight into a wreck. He never let me live it down. We actually dated for a while when we were a bit older. Didn’t work out, but we’re still close.”

“That’s nice,” you mused, staring at the ramshackle cottage covered in honeysuckle and creeping ivy. “My exes don’t tend to want anything to do with me.”

“Is that a human women thing, or…?”

“Men,” you said absently, raising your camera to your eye to snap a quick shot of a passing seagull soaring just off the high cliffs below you.

“Oh,” he said, and when you looked back at him, he was staring at his shoes.

You smiled a soft, wonky smile, and continued in silence for a little bit, until the cove below opened up fully before you, and you gasped. “That’s gorgeous,” you breathed.

“Isn’t it?” He raised his hand, his bare, slender arms muscular and so inviting, and pointed at the rock arch at the end of the sweeping, sandy bay. “There are often fossils in that bit. You want to go take a closer look? See what we can find?”

His playful attitude was infectious, and the two of you were soon scrambling down the sandy, scree-slope path to the beach. At one point your soles slipped on the gravelly surface and you sat down hard on your backside with a grunt. Connor, three paces ahead of you on the narrow path, turned abruptly and snorted at the sight of you. “You alright?” he asked. When you nodded, a bit winded, he held out his hand again, and you accepted it without question and let him yank you back onto your feet.

The tide was creeping slowly out, leaving a swathe of dark, hard, wet sand behind, and the beach was littered with little shells and other gifts that the retreating water had left behind. Connor drifted away towards the waves and began to toss bits of debris at passing gulls, never close enough to hit, but accurately enough to make them wheel away, shrieking indignantly, which only made the mer laugh and yell at them.

In the short few hours you’d been with him, you’d come to love that laugh. His voice was husky and rough, like the rasp of dune marram grass disturbed by the wind, and his dark hair glimmered with a hint of blue in the strong sunlight. But there was something else to him that spoke of hidden currents beneath the surface. In moments when he thought you were otherwise occupied, the laughter died in him and a hollow sadness crept in at the edges.

It felt as though he were trying to forget something, trying to put something behind him, and he was focusing on you as an excuse to do it.

You barely knew him, so you didn’t press, but as you neared the cliffs and he wandered over to them, running his fingertips over the jagged, crumbling surfaces of the sandstone, you watched him more closely. He walked recklessly close to the base of the cliffs, picking at flaky portions of the rock until a rain of bits and dust scattered to the sandy beach at his feet.

“Connor?” you asked after watching him for a while.

“Mm?” The mer did not look up.

“What are you doing?”

He paused but still didn’t turn round. “Looking for fossils. Sometimes you can find ammonites and belemnites and…” he trailed off when he turned and saw the look on your face.

You shook your head. “I mean… why are you doing this with me? You saw some human taking photos at the harbour yesterday, and the next thing you’re volunteering to take me fossil hunting along the coast.”

“Can’t I want to do something nice for a handsome stranger?” he asked, a slight bite to his playful tone.

You simply looked at him flatly. “Sure you can,” you said. “But…”

“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. Sections of his dark hair had come loose in the stiff breeze, and they whipped across his pale face and into his dark eyes.

You nodded. “Sorry I pushed,” you muttered, turning away and walking along the cliffs for a bit, hoping that a moment of privacy would give him a chance to recover.

The mood was different after that. The wind seemed to have a chill to it that you’d not noticed earlier, the calls of the seabirds almost mocking now, and as Connor slouched along the wet sand, he scuffed his heels and kept his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m hungry,” he said after perhaps half an hour of walking along the beach. “You want to head back to town?”

“Sure.”

The house martins’ high, trilling calls filled the air above as they darted in and out of their nests in the eaves of the old buildings with their terracotta roves and sandstone walls. You watched them and tried to snap some shots of them with your long lens. Connor watched you curiously and when you turned back to him he smiled softly, some of the warmth returning to his face. His skin was pale and smooth as porcelain, save for a few scars here and there, his cheekbones high and sharp, and his lips… there was something inviting about his soft lips. They curled slightly at the corners, making you think of stolen kisses and secret smiles.

He walked with you back to your house in near silence, but when you asked him inside, he shook his head. “Nah, I should to get back to the sea. Too much time on land isn’t good for me. Not just… physically…”

“Right. Well, thanks for today… for showing me around a bit. I had fun.”

Connor shrugged one shoulder, hands still in his pockets. “Figured it’d be a nice thing to do, you know? Since you don’t know anyone here yet.”

“I appreciate it. Let me know if you want to meet up again some time…”

A little light kindled in his dark eyes and he flashed you a sharp-toothed grin. “Alright,” he said. “I will. And I look forward to seeing your photographs in the gallery sometime soon…”

You answered him with a shy smile of your own and watched him walk away down the narrow, cobbled street, his hands in his pockets, his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the road directly in front of him.

After a day which had turned out in an entirely different way from the one you had imagined for yourself when you’d woken up, you settled down later that evening, having edited all your photos of the trip, and sank onto the old, squashy, comfy sofa, and sighed. There were still boxes everywhere, but now, with at least a fleeting connection made, you felt more tethered to the place. The task of unpacking didn’t seem so daunting, somehow. It seemed… worth it.

A bashing at your door just after ten o’clock frightened the living daylights out of you.

You stood and cautiously went to the front door, heart hammering in your chest, almost louder than the pounding on the wood. No one here knew you yet, and there was no call for anyone to be thudding away at the little red door at this time of night, surely?

Peeking through the tiny, warped glass window, you saw a pale face and frowned. It looked like Connor, but he’d said he was going back to the sea.

You opened it and found him listing heavily to one side, like a ship floundering on a reef, leaning all his weight against the thick wall of your cottage, his hair hanging loose into his face. “Shit,” he said when he saw your eyes wide with surprise. “Shit, I shouldn’t… Fuck.”

His words were thick and slurred, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Connor? What happened?”

“So… I didn’t go back after all,” he said, swaying again and staggering as his body tried to adjust and correct. “Fuck.”

“Here,” you said, stepping forward and scooping your arm under his to help him inside. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you chuckled. You’d dealt with drunk friends before, and manoeuvred him easily enough onto the sofa you’d just vacated.

“Walking is fucking hard,” he commented when you were halfway there. “I mean… I can just about manage at the best of times, but fuck me… I mean, you don’t have to do that. That’s not why I came here. You are gorgeous though. But… ah… fuck.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” you smiled, easing him down onto the sofa and taking a look at the greenish tinge to his cheeks. “Hey, you gonna throw up?”

“Maybe?” he said. Then, the more he thought about it, the greener he got.

“You sit tight. I’ll find a bowl or something. And a glass of water.”

When you came back, he was leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing. “I’m… I’m gonna…” he said, and you instinctively shoved the bowl into the space in front of him. Just in time.

His body heaved and you rested the bowl on his knees while you held his hair back out of the way. You’d done this for girls at college who’d had hair as long as his, but you’d never done it for a guy. Somehow it felt different. More intimate, despite the fact that he was still practically a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say again between heaves.

It wasn’t long before he recovered enough for you to be able to leave him and deal with the bowl. When you returned, you found him, ashen-faced, sipping the water and looking frankly about as miserable as a wet raccoon. He even had the shadows under his eyes too, for sure.

“What happened?” you asked tentatively, sitting down beside him.

“Got thinking,” he said without opening his dark eyes.

“About?”

“Him.”

“Who’s ‘him’?” you asked, instantly knowing you were going to regret bringing this topic up.

He swallowed. “My ex.”

“Ah.”

“I had fun today, you know?” Connor said, casting you a careful, sideways look through squinted eyes. His dark gaze was still unfocused and glassy, but the pain in his eyes was clear as day. “It was nice. But it made me think…”

“Yeah, that can happen,” you said.

“He was a human too,” he said. “Is. He’s still around. Doing fine. Moved on to someone easier to be with, I guess. Someone who doesn’t need to sprout a fucking tail and go back to the sea. Hey, you know what he said? Right before he broke up with me?”

This was not a healthy line of conversation, but for now, you allowed it, sensing that he needed someone new with whom he could talk this through. He’d probably exhausted his friends with it already. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘you’ve got a nice ass, Connor, when you’re a human. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck a fish!’”

“Thats… wow, that’s callous.”

“Right? I’m not even a fish! Mer aren’t fish. We’re not mammals either. Fuck knows what we’re classed as. I don’t even care. But you can definitely fuck a mer. That’s for sure.”

“So, tell me then… how does alcohol affect mer?”

“Can’t you see?” he said sourly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, but… you gonna be ok?”

“I’ve been drunk before.”

“Why didn't you go back to the sea earlier? Have you been drinking all this time?”

Connor shook his head and then rapidly looked like he regretted it. He groaned and sat back on the sofa, eyes fluttering closed once again. “I walked up to the springs for a bit. I’m not… I’m not normally like this,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I don’t normally get drunk.”

The sadness in his tone struck you deeply. “I get it,” you said. “Breakups suck.”

“He sucks,” Connor retorted petulantly. “Ah, fuck. I should go. I don’t want you to see me like this. Not when… not… not after…” he broke off, shaking his head. He tried to stand but his knees gave way a little and he veered sideways.

You shot up to catch him before he face-planted onto the floor and, laughing gently, you laid him back down on the sofa. “You stay right there,” you said, helping him to lie down. “Sleep it off. Let me grab a blanket.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyelids already drooping.

By the time you returned with a blanket from a box upstairs, he was sound asleep. He was going to have one wicked hangover in the morning though.

You took his shoes off for him, surprised by how cold his feet were despite the socks and the temperature of the room. Maybe merfolk just ran cold; you recalled the coolness of his palm from earlier and shrugged. Somehow, he was still gorgeous, even pass-out drunk on your sofa.

You left the, now clean, bowl within hurling distance and hoped he wouldn’t need it, and made sure he was lying comfortably on his side with a cushion beneath his head. He didn't wake as you lifted him gently and slid the small cushion under his cheek, but you were surprised when he let out a deep, sleepy moan at your touch.

“Sleep well,” you said as you headed upstairs, leaving him with a large glass of water.

Morning came and you stretched groggily. It was only as you thought about taking yourself in hand to ease out the tension of your morning wood that you remembered that you were not alone in the house. Lying there for a little while longer, thinking about Connor and the sharp, chiselled planes of his face, did not help matters, and eventually you relented and closed your fist around your cock. You gasped at the rush of pleasure, and it wasn’t long at all til you were spilling into your hand, thinking about what it might be like to be with the merman. Guilt rushed in to replace the elation of your release when you remembered that he was not long into the first stages of post-breakup hell, and thinking about him that way was probably not the most appropriate thing in the world.

After a perfunctory clean up, you dressed and headed downstairs. The moment you reached the bottom of the staircase, you froze. The sounds drifting from the living room were not the sounds of morning pleasure. In fact, at a faint little whimper, you shot forwards into the room and saw that Connor was lying on his back on the sofa, writhing weakly and gasping.

“Connor?”

“Help,” he rasped, clawing at the blanket. As it slid slowly off him, you realised with a jolt of shock that the pile of clothing on the floor was his discarded jeans and t-shirt from the night before. Your eyes shifted back to his legs and you gasped. His skin was in the process of fusing together, turning dark and shadowy, his legs pressed together and clearly trying to become a tail.

“What do I do?” you asked helplessly. “Connor…”

He wheezed and jutted his head back, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His hands were clawed now, the webbing stretching right up to the tops of his fingers, and visible as he flexed and balled his fingers in obvious pain. He looked across the room at you with his large, dolorous eyes, and tried to smile. “I…” a long, rattling inhale followed, and when he was finally able to speak again, he added, “I should have gone back to the sea. I -” he broke off with a sharp cry as his legs fused into a tail and his skin darkened to the familiar grey-blue you’d glimpsed in the water. The fan of his tail spread across the far end of the sofa, looking strangely like crumpled tissue paper.

“You’re gonna be heavy,” you said, “But I could probably carry you to the harbour from here if you need to be in the water. It’s not far. Maybe only a hundred yards or so?”

“Would you?” he asked, gratitude surging in his expression. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you said. In fact, you were the one worrying. He looked dried out, and probably the alcohol from the previous night wasn’t helping in the dehydration stakes. “C’mon. Let’s give it a go.”

You opened the front door and grabbed your keys before turning back to the merman who had now completed his transformation and was lying limply on the couch, breathing rapidly and shallowly. There was still a tight wheezing to his breaths, and you noticed how the gills on his neck had opened in a futile attempt to draw in more air.

“You good?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I will be. Shit, I’m so sorry. I tried to hold it off but… I can’t stay ‘human’ on land for too long. I pushed it by staying last night.”

Connor’s pale cheeks flushed crimson as you stooped and slid your arms under his tail and around his torso. He immediately latched his arm around your neck, and you rose, staggering slightly.

“Fuck, you’re heavier than you look…” you grunted.

“Isn’t that romantic,” he quipped, turning his face away. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said. “It’s been an interesting time lately for you. And nothing says ‘getting to know a guy’ like carrying him ‘bridal style’ to the water and tossing him in… you know?”

Connor managed a weak laugh. “I knew you were a good’un when I first saw you.”

“No you didn’t,” you retorted, letting the front door slam shut behind you.

“You’re right. I just saw a good looking guy and thought I’d try and get into your pants to make me feel better. Happy now?”

“You’re not in my pants…” you pointed out, grunting again as you adjusted his weight.

“No, but I’m in your arms. That’s pretty close…” He turned serious and added, “But you deserve more than some rebound fuck… I’m… I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“I’m not,” you said. “My back might be tomorrow, but…”

Connor laughed again, and buried his face at your collarbone. “I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Let’s get you to the harbour first, and then we can talk about making up. Or out…”

His grin was broad and toothy and genuine, and it went some way to reassuring you that he’d be ok.

It was a long, hard slog to the harbour, but you made it and just pitched him over the wall so that he fell, undignified and flailing, into the harbour mouth with a disgruntled squawk that made you laugh. The splash of his landing got you all the way up the front, but you sat down on the edge of the wall as he circled a little in the water, drawing water through his parched gills, and then bobbed up at the surface again, looking sheepish.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes fixed on his hands as he floated there in front of you.

“No problem,” you replied. “Seriously. I know what it’s like to go through a rough breakup. It’s shit. You seem like a good guy, and I’m happy to be here for you. I’d like to get to know you better anyway… regardless of what…  you know… might happen down the line. Or not.”

Connor’s smile was as broad and white as it had ever been. “Thanks. I… I’m not sure I deserve that, but thanks anyway.”

“Look, I’ll let you get sorted out for now, but if you’re free tomorrow, meet me at the cove with the fossils again? You don’t have to come on legs this time either.”

He nodded, seeming surprised at your last comment. “Alright. I’ll see you there. What time?”

“Just before sunset?”

Connor nodded once more, and then disappeared in a flash of his tail as he sped away through the clear water of the harbour, out to the brackish waters of the estuary beyond the protective curve of the wall.

At sunset the following day, you had taken your shoes off and were enjoying the cool water with your jeans cuffed up when a splash further out to sea signalled the arrival of Connor. He looked brighter, healthier, and he powered up through the gentle, lapping surf and dragged his body up above the tide line to join you. “Hi,” he said, rolling onto his back and splaying his arms out at his sides like a starfish to recover his breath after the effort. “Fuck. I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’m not a complete drunken loser, I swear.”

“Like I said, I get it,” you said, standing beside him and staring out at the sun as it sank low above the horizon, heavy and as searing as a blacksmith’s coal over the water. You looked down at him then, and something began to thrum in you. You’d yet to see all of him like this, as he truly was, and he was even more beautiful than he’d been in his ‘human’ form. You hissed a soft curse to yourself, but he heard it and flashed a frown at you.

“What?”

“You’re… You’re stunning, Connor. I don’t know what your ex was thinking, but… you’re beautiful like this. Especially in this light.”

Connor blushed and looked away. Then, with a snort of laughter, he grabbed your ankle and knocked your knee out from behind you, sending you sprawling into the wet sand beside him. Your jeans soaked up the seawater instantly, and you gasped at the shock of the cold water.

He pulled you close and crushed a kiss against your lips before you had time to register it, and you found your body responding instantly. “Connor,” you panted, drawing back and finding his pupils fully dilated. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes,” he rasped. “I want you. Please…”

You ran your hands down his slender torso, to where his hips melted into the rough, pale skin of his shark-like lower half. The skin there was tough as fine sandpaper, and as you skimmed over his hips, he arched his spine and whimpered.

“Connor?”

“So good,” he mumbled. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

You lavished attention on the transition point at his hips, and he was soon a writhing, squirming wreck, left beached high above the retreating tide. His tail flopped uselessly, and his clawed fingers raked furrows in the hard, wet sand. He bucked upwards into you and you found a slit swelling and opening in his lower body. It was slick and as you guided your fingers to it, running your fingertips around the hot, silky walls of the inside, he yelped and moaned, biting his lip and swearing. “Fuck, yes, there… fuck. Fuck!”

And as you slid your fingertips further inside the slit, you found that the puffy, smooth walls hid a delightful surprise. Not one, but two cocks began to swell inside, and as you ran your finger along the slick interior, a large tentacle-like cock slid free and writhed idly in the cool, evening air. The second cock, a little smaller but equally hard and eager, slipped free a moment later, and writhed beside it.

“Well,” you said. “Isn’t that a surprise.”

Connor smirked softly and raised his hips weakly. “Please…” His cocks were leaking already, and a line of pre-come hung between them from tip to tip.

“How could you not have been enough for anyone?” you mused aloud, growing painfully hard yourself. Your cock was soon straining at your boxers, and you ached to run it between his twin cocks and feel the slickness of his heat against your body. “Can I?” you asked, and he nodded instantly.

You took both of his cocks in one hand and pumped them gently, the way you’d have taken a human’s cock in hand when just starting out, warming up and teasing. Connor tipped his head back and moaned deliciously, exposing his pale throat to you as he tried to grind his hips up into your hand, seeking more contact, more friction… more.

“Please…” he gasped a moment or two later. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Anything, dammit,” he snarled, teeth on show. “Anything, just… it’s… it’s not enough… and… and I want to see you. Please, let me see you.”

“Just see?” you teased.

You were met with another growl and a row of white teeth.

“I’m not letting those pearly whites near my cock unless you grow some manners,” you snickered as you undressed, heedless that this was a public (if quiet) beach.

Once naked, you watched as Connor’s eyes drifted down your body to your hard cock and his pupils soared even wider. “Fuck, look at you,” he said. “You’re fucking perfect…”

“Connor, I want… I want to… but…”

“My slit…” he said. “Fuck my slit. Please. I’m slick enough…”

You needed no more encouragement.

You straddled the merman, feeling the hard, rough skin of his shark-like tail between your thighs, before you leaned over him, lowering your hard cock towards his own. His two cocks were both weeping, the tentacle-like shapes twisting in the cold air, desperately seeking out heat and contact. When they found your own, painfully hard cock, they instantly began to coil around your length, gripping you with incredible strength. They were leaking and wet, slippery and searingly hot, and you felt your balls tighten at the way they twined around you.

You swore and Connor groaned as you rocked your hips between them. His two cocks spiralled around your own gripping you so tightly it stole your breath completely. You swore, head tipping forwards over him as sparks ignited along your spine. His clawed hands found your back and he raked delicate, red lines across your skin as you rutted into him.

Your tip hit the entrance of the slit which contained his two cocks, and he cried out as you entered him.

“You want me… to stop?” you asked, breathless.

He shook his head. “Fuck no. Keep going. That’s amazing…”

You slid into him and as you did, his cocks gripped you tighter. “I’m not gonna last much longer if…” one of his cocks coiled around your balls and slid towards the cleft of your cheeks. “Oh fuck, Connor, I’m.. That’s…”

“You don’t want me to?” he managed to whisper.

“Please,” you said. “I need you…

And with your cock now buried fully in his slick sheath, and with one of his cocks wrapped tightly around your shaft, you felt his other cock slip inside you. The intrusion wasn’t as painful as you’d though it was going to be, having had no preparation, but perhaps that was because of the shape of him, and because it was the slightly smaller cock that was sinking into your ass. The tip of it nudged suddenly against your prostate and you saw white.

His other cock clenched around your own, and as he hit you again and again in that bundle of nerves, you cursed, grabbed his shoulders, bowed your head, and as that heat surged inside you, you spilled all over his chest. A second or two later, while you were still twitching and convulsing through your own release, Connor found his peak and emptied himself over his own stomach, and inside you with a wild, high yell of pleasure.

You felt his release hit you deep inside as well, and after a few seconds, it began to slide from you as his second cock softened a little.

His whole body twitched and shuddered, his eyes had rolled closed, and his chest gleamed with sweat.

Eventually he came back to you, and his tentacle-like cock unravelled from around your own and you rolled off him into the wet sand beside him. His chest rose and fell rapidly and his pale skin was flushed and heated with the exertion.

Connor reached clumsily across the space between you and ran his leathery palm over your stomach and up your chest to your neck where your heartbeat pounded. Limply, he rolled onto his side and kissed your throat, raking his teeth gently over your sensitive, flushed skin. “Gods, I came so hard…”

You snorted a smile back at him and he laughed, flopping back into the sand. “What are we doing?” he murmured.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But… I’m willing to see where it goes, if you are?”

“You mean you’re happy to fuck a fish?” he asked bitterly.

You rolled your eyes. “I just did, didn’t I?”

Connor offered you a lopsided grin and met your eyes askance. “Yeah. You did. Did you like it?”

You eyed the mess you’d both made of his torso pointedly.

Connor gave a final smile and pushed himself upright. Your combined mess slid down his front and you watched as his cocks retreated back into the sheath with slow, deliberate pulses.

He caught you watching him and blushed crimson.

“What?” you asked.

“I… Nothing,” he said, still not meeting your eye.

“You really are beautiful,” you said.

“Even like this?” he said with a deliberate flick of his tail.

You scowled and sat up too, reaching out and taking the back of his head in your hand.

His hair was wet, and he tasted of the sea, but you didn’t care.

You kissed him hard, biting his lip and making him moan and his eyes roll shut again.

When you pulled back, you practically growled, “Especially like this, Connor.”

************************************

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[nick-kinnie]

Let Go

Pairing: Hank x Connor (Platonic)

Series: Detroit Become Human

Warnings: Some Spoilers for Hanks story, mentions of Suicide attempts briefly, mentions of death

He had waited several very long years to return it. He knew that one day he would have to let it go- to let him go...but never had he felt secure enough in himself to do so. He had been through hell and back, blamed the world, blamed himself even, and eventually he had settled on blaming the androids for what had happened to him. Deep down he had known who was truly responsible for what had happened to his son, to poor Cole, but for years he had let alcohol and anger blind him from it. After all, it was much easier to blame a machine than one of your own kind. To blame a human was to find a flaw in them, he couldn’t afford to find flaws in himself, lest he try to fill the cracks in his personality with a bullet.

When Connor had shown up Hank had wanted nothing to do with him, even then after it was all said and done he still didn't always want to be around the Android...God forbid Hank ended up getting him killed too. He wouldn’t admit he was afraid of that fact, no, he would rather Kiss Gavin Reed himself than admit he was afraid of anything… But of late the realization that Connor wouldn’t simply come back from the dead as he had before had been rousing him in the night. He didn’t like to talk about what he had dreamed of the night before when connor would sit with him for coffee in the morning. He was still cold shell of a man, though since the so called ‘Battle for Detroit’ he had begun to find a better personality, however slowly that personality was choosing to appear.

Connor was sticking around, no longer tired down by amanda or any of his other programs, and Hank had forced himself to get used to the smiling android moving around his home at all hours of the night, taking everything in, playing with sumo, cleaning, and simply trying to adjust to human life as best he could. It drove Hank crazy, though he couldn’t just turn the android out onto the street as he sometimes wished he could. He was responsible for Connor now, he had to show him how to not be a fuck up. In some ways he felt as if he had a kid in his house again, teaching him lessons about life in his own odd way, reprimanding him when he did things to test the limit, and only getting to have a real moments rest when connor excused himself to recharge his battery every few weeks. Despite the grown child that resided in his home every day hank still felt that there was a hole.

It rested in the closet by the back door where he had left it almost four years ago, the thing he knew he had to return if he really wanted to move on. His therapist, the one he had had for three weeks before turning to anger and alcohol, he told Hank that in order to live he would have to let go. Hank had wanted none of that, he still didn’t, but as days turned to months and months to years he was beginning to understand that the doctor he had been seeing was right. That made nothing about what he needed to do any easier. They had been going out to eat that night and all hell had broke loose, he could remember it all clearly though he preferred not to. Hank had promised that they could go outside the next day and play his game, since he had developed a sudden interest in tee ball. After days of begging hank had given in and bought him a glove and a bat. They had played catch, hank showing him how to properly swing the bat, and by the time the night was on them they were hungry and read to get out of the yard. Hank had promised that they could play again tomorrow, but that promise had never been fulfilled. Cole had died that night and with him so had a little piece of Hank.

Connor had known for some time that he had a son who had passed, though it was only a few months ago that hank had told him the truth about what had really happened that night. Since then Connor had been trying to make him happy, small things that annoyed him more than anything but gestures he secretly appreciated. Connor seemed to know that as well because no matter how often Hank expressed his distaste the android continued to act as he always did. The hole was healing with Cole’s absence, though he was and never could be replaced by connor- but perhaps instead they were sharing a spot together in the man's mind as time went on. He worried about connor in the back of his mind when he would vanish for long periods of time, working with that android Markus to try and fix society and work android rights into the legal system.

Perhaps that was what had stopped him from really letting Cole go, from returning the things he had given him so long ago and letting his son play wherever he was as he waited for his father to come play ball with him again. He didn’t want to visit him during a time where chaos was everywhere, so he waited, and waited until finally he just felt it. The sky was overcast and snow was to come and coat the ground again in early february, but the world was in a calm. He ran into connor on the way out of the house, the android wearing the same street clothes had had worn when he first turned deviant. He adored the hood rat style as hank had discovered.

“Hank,” Connor said, stopping on the front lawn as the man put the bat and mitt in the back seat. His head was tilted slightly to the side, trying to get a glimpse into the back seat to see what he had placed inside. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just thought I’d go for a ride.” He shoved his hands in his pockets for a moment, breath coming out in a puff as he watched Connor try and process the several different meanings of what he had just said. “It’s just a car ride, christ Connor. You’re welcome to come.”

“I didn’t mean to- Yes, I’d love to go. ” He cleared his throat, going silent as the man moved to the driver's seat. The car ride had been far from silent though, Connor sharing details of his latest outing with a fever. He was so excited to let the man know what had been happening. He was certain that Connor had figured out where Hank was driving to and by the time they had passed through the gate he had moved onto his shitty jokes. Then they were standing in the snow, a small grave before them with only the wind acting as a filler for the silence.

This was what hank had been waiting on for years. Release, to let Cole go at last and finally forgive himself for what had happened. To be at peace… It wasn't easy to set the bat down at the head of the grave and put the mit against the cold stone, little ball nestled snugly against the leather. It was quite possibly the hardest thing for hank to do and even as a grown man he found himself verging on tearing up. He fought it back, clenching his jaw until it eventually passed him by. He felt a bit numb for a moment as bitter memories came back to him, the regret, the pain of his death. Everything came back as the hole tried to mend itself and goddamnit it hurt like hell. Then he felt a hand against his shoulder, connor crouched next to him in the snow as he dusted off the powder from atop his headstone. Hank watched the action in silence, confused as to why connor had chosen to step in but not rejecting the lifeline when it was thrown.

“You know, Hank...I think that Cole would be very proud to see who you’ve become. I know I am.” Connor said, speaking over the wind as snow began to drift down in slow flakes. He helped the older man up and accepted the slight hug when it was given before turning back to the car and leaving the man to say his final goodbyes to the pain he had clung to for so long.

[caecookies-blog]

Don’t even have to think about it

Type: Dylan x Reader

“Dylan please! Can you stop ignoring me and just listen to me?”

 You’re panting. It has been minutes since you have been chasing your boyfriend, Dylan, down on streets. You mean, your jealous boyfriend. To be honest, you are the one who should be mad right now because Dylan just punched your childhood friend Martin in front of everybody in the restaurant and just stormed off. Obviously, Dylan is being a jerk.

 “Dylan!”

 He stopped walking. Finally. You also stopped walking but you are standing behind him. He just stood there. You wiped the sweat bead off your forehead.

 “How many times should I tell you that you don’t have to get jealous of Martin? He is my childhood best friend and he just came back from New York and he just wants to see me after 10years! I even asked permission from you remember?”

 You then realized you just raised your voice at your boyfriend. You caught your breath for a second before releasing the air through your nose. You noticed Dylan is still not moving from his stand so you decided to go in front of him.

 “Hey..” You lower down your voice.

“...” Still no response from Dylan.

“Look I-I’m sorry for shouting at you just now but—“

“____.” He called out your name without looking at you.

“Yes?”

 He started walking away.

 That’s it?

 Indeed you have a weird boyfriend.

 You sighed and after few steps you caught his hand. Suddenly Dylan stopped walking and finally faced you, looking at your eyes. You can definitely see the fire in his eyes. You gulped, fearing he might explode in anger. After all, you decided to date this hot-headed-but-really-handsome Dylan Wang because you really love him despite his hot temper.

 “Let’s talk about this at home.”

To your surprise, his chauffer had already arrived. The both of you went inside and no one spoke a word. All you can hear is the sound of the cars outside. The silence inside the chauffer has made your senses really active. You almost jumped when you felt your arm hit Dylan’s arm while the chauffer was making a turn. You immediately sat straight and moved your arm. But as soon as you moved your arm, Dylan has already caught your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. You looked at him but he is looking outside of the window. Knowing there’s no chance that he will look back at you, you just relaxed and felt his big warm hand with yours. Those butterflies in your stomach won’t just stop flying around. But a snap reminded you not to be fully comfortable because you have yet to settle the dispute with your boyfriend.

Finally you arrived at the Wang’s mansion. Dylan got out of the chauffer first without releasing your hand so basically you have just been pulled by Dylan.

 “B-but, Dylan, my bag…”

“Lucas, bring her bag to the dining hall.” Dylan commanded to his assistant.

“Yes, Sir.”

 You followed wherever Dylan brought you since he won’t just let go of your hand. You already have went to the Wang’s mansion for some time so you are already familiar with some of the places inside the mansion. You clearly remember some of the directions Lucas has taught you in the past. You gulped as you knew that the hallway you are in right now is directing to Dylan’s bedroom. Of all times you went to this place and after 4months of dating him, Dylan has never brought you to his bedroom. Suddenly you recalled the reason why he has never brought you to his bedroom that brought shivers all over your body.

 FLASHBACK

 You just started dating Dylan Wang. You never expected dating one of the hottest guys in your college. You never had a boyfriend before and you never really planned to get involved in a romantic relationship in college, not until you fell in love with the guy who you accidentally hit with a ball during your volleyball class.

As soon as the news about your relationship with Dylan broke out, you suddenly felt like you are a celebrity. Not to mention you also met his squad: Darren, Connor, and Caesar. You always feel shy and awkward around Dylan’s squad since they always ask you a lot of questions, especially about your relationship with Dylan.

 “So ___, how does it feel dating our youngest?” Caesar asked.

“Well… I’m still new to this feeling. You know…”

“We know what?” Connor, the guy who is seated across you, asked with full curiosity.

“Like what I told you guys before, Dylan is my first boyfriend.” You felt the heat running in your cheeks. “I’m still new to the feeling of dating someone. Sometimes… I still get awkward around him.” You peeked at Dylan but he is busy playing a game in his cellphone.

“I see no problem in that, ___. You know, being in love with someone is the best feeling in the whole world.” Caesar said as he placed his arm around Connor. “You must be able to adjust quickly in order to avoid prolonging the awkwardness between you and Dylan.”

Connor nodded. “That’s true. You and Dylan must have more time together alone.”

 You raised your eyebrow as you noticed Caesar and Connor looked at each other with sly smiles. Your attention was diverted to Darren, who is sitting silently beside Connor but softly laughed because of Caesar and Connor. Darren looked at you and he stopped laughing, putting his attention back to the book he has been reading.

 “Dylan!”

 Dylan jumped as Caesar called him, dropping his phone on the table.

 “Yes?”

“Are you even listening?” Connor asked Dylan.

Dylan raised his shoulders. “About what?”

“Told you he’s not paying attention.” Connor tapped Caesar’s chest. “Well, we have been talking about your quality time with ___.”

You heard Dylan hissed. “What do you care about my time with ___? I have my own ways.”

“But Dylan, you have been dating ___ for almost a month now and we see no progress.” Caesar sighed.

“Truth. You can’t just go anywhere and brag that you have a girlfriend but do nothing behind the crowd. That’s really a wrong move as a boyfriend.” Connor added.

“___, would you mind going to Dylan’s house?” Caesar suddenly asked.

You almost choked. “W-what?!”

Caesar cleared his throat. “We suggest that you go to Dylan’s house and have some quality time with him.”

“Specifically, in the bedroom. There you’ll get to know more of each other and even more intimate.” Connor winked.

“No!” Dylan stomped his hands on the table. “I will not take ___ into my bedroom!”

“Why?” The three guys asked.

“Well…” You saw Dylan looked at you and looked away, putting his hand on his neck. “I-I just can’t yet…”

“Don’t be such a kid, Dylan.” Caesar laughed.

“Well, I’m not like you Caesar.” Dylan answered back. “Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” You noticed Connor asked with a smile.

“Maybe…” Dylan suddenly let out a short sigh. “I-I never brought a girl into my bedroom yet. I’m just afraid I might do something…out of control.”

 And the boys suddenly howled.

 END OF FLASHBACK

 Once the both of you stepped inside of Dylan’s bedroom, Dylan pushed you against his bedroom door and you clearly heard he locked his doorknob. His face is so close with yours, that’s why you decided to look away. You can definitely feel your heart beating so fast, nervous and afraid on what might ever happen. Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when Dylan placed his right hand on your left cheek.

 “D-Dylan…”

“Yes ___?”

You can feel his breath on your face. “I-I thought w-we’re going to talk about that…”

“I know.”

 The husky voice of your boyfriend had your sweat beads slide down from the side of your face. The room is so quiet that you can only hear Dylan’s breathing and the beats of your heart. To be honest, you’re more than afraid than nervous. You never saw Dylan acting weird like this. Much more, you are currently in the danger zone.

 “___, look at me.”

 You slowly turned your head. As soon as you made eye contact with Dylan, he quickly placed his lips on yours. Your eyes automatically shut as you feel how he is being dominant in the kiss. He cupped your face to deepen the kiss, and you placed your hands on his chest. Your mind and your heart are in a battle—your mind saying you need to push Dylan away but your heart is saying pull him closer. You find yourself kissing him back while gently pulling his top to lessen the gap between your bodies. What else can you do? Your boyfriend is a great kisser.

 “___” Goosebumps all over your body as Dylan groaned your name.

“Yes?” Both of you are panting from the kiss.

“I’m sorry.”

 Your mind is still floating from the passionate kiss you just shared with Dylan. You realized a snap late that Dylan leaned his forehead on yours while still cupping your face with his hands. He then slid his hands down to your arms and pulled you in for a hug. He rested his head on your shoulder, facing your neck. You can feel his breathing and lips slightly touching your neck. You know you’re way sensitive in that area but you just let him.

 “I’m sorry for lashing out like that earlier.” He mumbled on your neck.

You cleared your throat. “Why did you do it?”

“I’m just jealous.”

You chuckled. “Jealous? Why?”

Dylan released from the hug and looked at you. “You don’t even have to think about it, ___. You already know why.”

You smiled. “Dylan, I love you, okay? There’s no way I will fall in love with Martin because I already have you.”

He looked down. “But still… I am so jealous seeing you and Martin laughing at the restaurant. You seemed like a real couple. You looked so—“

 You cut Dylan’s tantrums by giving him a smack on the lips. He looked at you with surprise. You smiled at him and held his hands to give him an assurance. After all, it’s your duty as his girlfriend to assure him that he doesn’t have to worry.

 “You don’t have to be afraid, okay? Just trust me.”

Dylan let out a sigh. “Okay ___.”

“Good.”

 Silence wrapped the both of you. Dylan may just have realized that this is the first time he brought a girl into his bedroom. Awkwardness came in and you can feel that your boyfriend is out of words.

 “Dylan?”

“Hmmm?” He scratched his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Uhmm… Actually… I’m…” He looked around. “W-welcome to my bedroom?”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

 You and Dylan just stared at each other. Your mind has been playing again. Your eyes went down to his lips and back at his eyes again. You licked your semi-dry lips and you looked away, afraid maybe Dylan got the wrong message.

 “H-hey! D-don’t think a-about stupid things!” Dylan stuttered as he walked away from you.

“What are you even thinking?” You’re stopping yourself from laughing.

Dylan sat down on his bed and placed a pillow on his lap. “Don’t worry. I won’t do it with you unless you’re ready.”

 With your instincts, you picked up a pillow from his sofa and threw it to him as hard as you can. Unluckily, Dylan dodged it.

 “What?! I’m not thinking about that, Dylan!”

“Really ___?” Dylan laughed and threw a pillow at you.

“Ah!” The pillow landed on your face. “That hurts!”

 All you can hear in this bedroom is Dylan’s laughter. You glared at your boyfriend as he laid down and held his tummy while laughing too hard.

 “I can’t take it anymore! My core hurts because of laughing!” Dylan said as he wiped his tears. “Man! My girlfriend is so funny!”

“Funny?! Of what?”

Dylan looked at you and laughed again. “You have to see your face, ___! You look so funny!”

 You held your face with one hand and you felt your cheeks are burning. You noticed Dylan standing up and went to the side of his bed where his body mirror is placed.

 “Come here and see for yourself.”

 You followed Dylan immediately and stood in front of the mirror. To your shock, your face is all red. You definitely look like a tomato. No wonder Dylan has been laughing so hard.

 “I hate you for doing this to me.” You said as you held your face while watching yourself in the mirror.

Dylan stood behind you and squished your cheeks. “Why are you so red?”

You pushed Dylan’s hands away. “Go get lost Dylan.”

 He chuckled and he placed his arms around you. Suddenly the atmosphere inside Dylan’s room became serious. The both of you fell silent.

 “So this is how we look when I hug you from behind.” He said as he placed his chin on your shoulder.

You smiled and leaned back. “We’re incredibly cute.”

He gave you a kiss on your cheek. “Of course. With my handsomeness and your cute height. I know we’re perfectly made for each other.”

“Stop mentioning my height.”

 Dylan is standing 184cm tall while you’re only standing 160cm. There is really a big height difference between the both of you. You blame your family genes for having a short height. Dylan loves to make fun of your height, and he definitely likes the way you respond to him.

 “Why don’t you like it? Isn’t it cute to see a tall guy with a short girl?”

“Stop.”

“Specifically a 184cm tall guy with a 160cm short girl.”

“Dylan I tell you..”

“What if I don’t want to stop mentioning your height?”

 You turned around and tried to push him away but he’s much stronger than you so he was able to catch your hands and control you instead. The both of you are pushing each other until you lost balance and your back found Dylan’s bed. Dylan’s foot accidentally hit your foot, thus losing his balance too and he fell on top of you, still maintaining his hands together with yours.

There was silence again, until Dylan gave you a smack on the lips. He rolled towards your side and just stared at the ceiling.

 “___?”

You looked at him. “Yes?”

He got your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. “Don’t leave me.”

“Of course I won’t leave you.” You held his hand tight to give him assurance.

“No I mean.. Spend a night here with me.”

“H-huh? B-but my parents—“

“I already told them that you’re staying here with me tonight.”

“What?”

Finally his eyes met yours. “I just want to spend my time with you.”

“But wait. Since when did you have my parents’ phone numbers?”

“Remember when you fainted in class and I rushed to send you to the clinic. Surprisingly your phone has no password so I was able to access your phonebook and look up to your mother’s phone number.” He chuckled. “But it’s a shame you didn’t have load for call, that’s why I was the one who contacted your mother.”

“Ohh that...”

“Don’t ever faint like that again.” You felt him pull you closer. You snuggled onto him and you felt his kiss on your forehead. “You just don’t know how worried I was when I heard you fainted in class.”

You smiled. “Yes. I won’t.”

 You slowly opened your eyes and all you see yet is a blurry light from the window yet slightly covered by something near to you. You blinked fast when you felt your face is on Dylan’s chest. Your heart raced when you realized it’s already morning. You tried to move but Dylan’s arms are wrapped around you and his leg is resting above your thigh. Your boyfriend is still fast asleep and of course you don’t want to wake him up. But upon realizing your position, you thought you needed to move away before anyone catches you and Dylan. You carefully moved back away from Dylan but halted when you heard a camera sound. You turned your head to see Connor and Caesar facing their phone cameras at you and Dylan.

 “Uh-oh.” Connor and Caesar looked at each other.

“You’re really stupid, Connor.” Caesar shook his head.

Connor scratched his head. “I thought—“

“I told you she’s awake.” Even not being able to see him you know it was Darren.

“What are you guys doing?!”

 You did not care about your sleeping boyfriend. You pushed yourself away from Dylan and threw pillows at Caesar and Connor who eventually dodged them. Dylan groaned as he woke up and like you he was shocked to see his squad present in his bedroom. Caesar and Connor gave each other a high five and shoved their phones at Darren’s face. In a snap the room is filled with laughter of those 3.

 “What are you doing here?!” Dylan asked as he sat up. His voice is still husky.

“Checking you guys out if you already made a progress.” Caesar answered quickly.

“You bastards. Get out!”

Connor laughed. “Don’t be such a hot-headed guy in the morning, Dy.”

“Hey Connor.” Caesar tapped Connor’s shoulder. “Come to think of it… Does your temper really go bad after a session?”

“Hmm… As far as I know, it doesn’t. Since you just did that with someone you love. You really should have the best quality time so why have a bad temper?” Connor looked back at Dylan. “Or maybe these two just tired themselves out so much that they need—“

“Hey!” All of them had their eyes on you. Including Dylan.

“W-we did not do it.” Dylan suddenly admitted.

“What?!” Caesar and Connor reacted. “But we thought—“

“Nothing happened.” Dylan answered.

Caesar sighed. “But you brought her into your room?”

“It doesn’t mean that if I bring ___ into my room all I have to do is to do it with her. We just… Talked all night.” Dylan scratched his head.

Connor gave him a smirk. “Really?”

“Y-yeah! Right, ___?” Dylan panicked and he hit your shoulder.

“Ow!” You stuck your tongue out to him and faced Connor. “Yeah. We just talked.”

“No hugs?” Caesar asked.

Dylan pouted. “Well… I hugged her.”

“No kisses?” Connor asked.

 The atmosphere in the room changed. You felt a sudden awkwardness between you and Dylan, and also from his friends. Even though you are not looking at them, you can feel their eyes are staring at you.

 Dylan bit his lower lip. “I—“

You threw a pillow to Connor. “Why do you have to know everything?!”

“They kissed!”

 Caesar and Connor are literally celebrating while you are just sitting down beside Dylan. You and Dylan exchanged looks and looked away from each other. Your eyes met Darren’s and he gave you a thumb up. You did not know how to react to him so you just gave him a smile.

 “So when are you guys planning to take it to the next level?” Caesar asked you and Dylan.

“Tomorrow?” Dylan suddenly answered.

You and Dylan exchanged looks. “What?!” You shouted.

Dylan laughed and pulled you in for a kiss on your cheek. “Just kidding!”

 Caesar and Connor are still having lots of fun at the moment, Darren is silently judging Caesar and Connor, and Dylan is trying to reach you while you are avoiding his contact because of what he just answered. Your face is turning hot again and you hid your face using your hair.

Why do you even date this childish hot-tempered guy and be surrounded by his crazy best friends?

[ontherun-writing]

[compliments (1/4) - poetry] RK800/Reader

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! It was overall just really fluffy and sweet (maybe tooth-rotting) so it was therapeutic almost.

Takes place post-pacifist ending where everyone lives + Connor becomes a police officer at DPD + Gavin with more personality than being an asshole etc + Connor lives w Hank. This will probably be two?? parts; it was supposed to be one but uh lmao.

Comments/Reblogs w tags much appreciated :)) I wanna know what ya’ll think

Part 2

Summary: Upon meeting you, Connor learns that he is surprisingly good at giving honest compliments, among other things.

Word Count: 4k+

The first time Connor met you, you had picked up a stray coin and asked it if it was his. He had been walking Sumo at the park nearby Hank’s apartment in the early afternoon when you passed by him, adjusting the strap on your backpack. He hadn’t expected you to pay any attention to him at all, so it had taken a moment to realize that you were talking to him. You held the quarter in between your thumb and index gently, waiting for his response with polite patience.

Connor did not remember taking out his coin on the duration of the walk, and feeling the pocket of his khaki shorts that Hank kindly gave(forced) him to wear, he knew that the coin was still there. Conclusion: that was not his coin.

Still, he took it anyways, giving you a lopsided smile that he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. It was something about the way you asked him, shyly but with a touch of levity, that made him want to agree with you. Or was it the way your eyes flickered down at his body before meeting his eyes on the way back up.

You were attracted to him, he realized, analyzing the way your pupils dilated ever so slightly and how your temperature increased ever so slightly. His LED light was still attached to the right side of his forehead, so it was evident he was an android. But still, you found him sexually appealing.

Stumbling on his thoughts, Connor thanked you and pocketed the coin, hearing it ‘clink’ with the quarter that he already had in his pockets. Bringing his attention back to the present, he was surprised to see you still standing there, but your attention was already elsewhere, more specifically towards the large Saint Bernard that was wagging its tail furiously in hopes of getting petted. You looked up with him with an undisguised expression of excitement. “Can I pet him?” You asked, and when he nodded, you immediately began to coo at the large dog who was only too happy to oblige to your affectionate belly rubs.

Connor couldn’t help but feel vaguely disappointed. He looked to the side where you had placed your backpack (a student?) and watched as you quickly rolled up your black windbreaker sleeves to vigorously pet the dog.

He had almost missed your question, but could catch enough of your words to know that you were asking if he came here often. “Recently, I have been frequenting this park to walk Sumo,” he said, listening to you echo the dog’s name delightedly. “I have only recently moved to a neighborhood in close proximity to this area, so it’s most likely you would not have seen me prior to this month.”

You agreed, “I think I would notice you and such a cute dog,” you cooed at Sumo before reverting your voice back to its normal tone, “if you came around often before.” You scratched at Sumo’s ears absentmindedly as you looked up at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I never got your name.”

“My name is Connor.” He had learned to leave out the rest of his introduction a while ago. “And yours?”

You responded back with your own name and got to your feet, seemingly satisfied with the amount of dog love you acquired through Sumo. You stuck out your hand and grinned widely, and as Connor shook your hand, you said, “It’s nice to meet you, Connor! I hope I’ll see you around more often!”

Just as casually as you began the conversation, you just as easily said your goodbyes. You waved eagerly, and he imitated the action but with less robustness. He watched you walk away until Sumo tugged at the leash, finally impatient enough to want to continue down the sidewalk. With a last glance at your retreating figure, Connor apologized to Sumo about the delay before following the dog on its mission to find a squirrel. He could only hope he would meet you again.

And he did the very next day.

“Connor! Hey!” You called for him, waving at him exuberantly. Connor had just exited the donut shop with an entire box of assorted ones for the police force when he heard your voice from down the street. When Connor met your eyes and raised his hand in a small wave, you beamed so clearly that he had a hard time figuring why it was so endearing you were so excited to see him.

Connor watched as you quickly told the two friends you were with something before bounding (yes, because there was an extra hop to your steps today compared to yesterday) to him with a warm smile. Again, there was that appreciative gaze you gave him as you looked up and down, the quickening of your heartbeat indicating that you very much liked the way he looked in his police uniform. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” you said teasingly. “I thought donuts were just a stereotype, officer.”

“Unfortunately, the lieutenant likes to consume unhealthy foods on a daily basis,” Connor explained, feeling a smile raise his lips as you huffed in amusement. “I would normally not indulge him on this, but it seemed that everyone else in the precinct wanted one, so I was sent.” It was Gavin that told him to go, telling him that since he made money now the least he could do was buy donuts. It was funny how their relationship developed, but at least they weren’t at each other’s throats, literally. Connor paused, unsure if his next words were overstepping anything. “Would you like one?” he offered.

“Oh, no! No, thanks.” You grinned. “I’m not that into donuts, surprisingly,” you said. “I’m more of an ice-cream kinda person, you know?”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Connor said, liking the way your eyes gleamed.

“So, what is it like, being an officer,” you said, pointing at the DPD logo on his shoulder.

It hadn't been quite long since Connor was officially reinstated as an official detective after the revolution. An adjustment had to be made, of course, for both the precinct and for Connor himself as androids could not only hold their own jobs but also be protected under the law like a human.

It was an even bigger adjustment for him to be helping androids after weeks of deliberately hunting them down. Connor mindfully pushed that thought away.

“It’s not quite that big of change from what I was before,” he responded, smiling, hoping it was as warm as he could make it. “I get to protect both androids and humans, so that’s certainly something new. If anything, it’s… nice to be able to get paid, even though I have yet to figure out what I should spend on, besides pastries for the precinct, of course.”

You let out an appreciative laugh. “The job suits you,” you said, and he watched your eyes glanced over his attire again in approval. “You look good in uniform.” Your eyes widened in panic after your comment, pink blooming on your cheeks. “I--I mean,” you stammered, raising your hand to your lips, “you look good as an officer-- wait, uh, I mean, you do look good but--”

Connor quickly glanced at your attire: an apricot floral skirt that ended right above your knees, a top that complemented its color, twine-aesthetic sandals to finish the look. “You look nice as well,” he replied easily, watching as you snapped your mouth shut, the color on your cheeks continuing to spread. “Your outfit very much complements both your physical features and your personality,” he said as a matter of fact. “You look like the embodiment of a summer day.”

“I--” You paused, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the growing, but shy, smile on your face. Your eyes glanced at him ever so often. You let out a laugh as you looked back at him, face completely flushed, but your voice was as teasing as ever. “I never knew you were into Shakespeare,” you commented, but your tone told you that you were undeniably flattered.

(He quickly researched Shakespeare and received results about a poet that used a certain meter to tell stories and more famously, write love poems. If Hank knew he was accidentally quoting poetry, Hank would have gagged.)

“I’m not,” Connor said honestly, blinking. “That’s just what I saw.”

You laughed again and playfully pushed his shoulder as you gushed about what a poet he was and then proceeded to give him your phone number. “I want to get to know you more,” she said, and he agreed. All he really registered was that he would get to see you again. “Soon,” you had said to him hopefully before going back to your friends.

It had been a few days since the last time you had met Connor, and it was only through Hank’s insistence that he had sent you a text asking how your day was. “How the hell is she going to talk to you if she doesn’t have your phone number?” Hank had grumbled as Connor received his first text message back from you with a set of smiling emojis. He pretended not to care when Connor thanked him for his help, saying something along the lines of “don’t fucking mention it.”

It was then that Connor began to learn more about you. You were a second-year graduate student at a nearby university, living in an apartment with three other roommates. You liked pastel colors, dogs (he heard how you nostalgically talked about your own dog and made note to let you see Sumo again as soon as possible), and singing (though you said you were no good at it). There was very little things you disliked eating, and you had no allergies except to “maybe dust,” you had texted to him with a ‘laughing-crying’ emoji. It was apparent you conveyed your emotions through these small faces and hoped that you didn’t mind his lack of usage. Apart from texting, you would actually call him at night whenever he was free, mindful of his work schedule.

It was on a quiet Thursday night when you had called him at the usual time, 8 PM, and he picked up the phone knowing it was you without looking. “How are you?” He always began, feeling himself relax as he heard the laughter in your voice as you replied as the same as ever. Connor placed his jacket on the dining hall table and loosened his tie, speaking through the phone as he settled himself on the couch with Sumo soon following after him.

“So, I was wondering,” you said, the tone in your voice changing from playful to bashful. “If you’re free this Saturday, I was thinking maybe we could hang-- uh, go out together?”

Connor looked at the blank TV in front of him, watching as his LED swirled yellow momentarily. “I am free Saturday, and I’d be glad to be able to see you again,” he said. “What were you planning for us to do?”

“I was thinking about going to the aquarium,” you responded, sounding more flustered on the phone. “I remember you saying that you like animals, and you liked fish, and I thought maybe it’d be nice for us to go look at them together.” You mumbled something else, and Connor pressed the phone closer to his ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the last part of what you said.” He continued, “But I would be delighted to go with you to the aquarium.”

“Just the two of us,” you said, though it sounded more like a question.

“Yes, of course.” Connor hoped he sounded as confused as he felt. “Is this not a date?”

Connor was alarmed at the loud crack over the other side of the call as he distantly heard you yelp. “Are you alright?” He asked in concern.

“Yes! Yeah, sorry, I dropped my phone.” He heard you fumble with the phone and breathe out deeply.

“I’m sorry,” Connor began nervously, pulling at his collar as the temperature seemed to increase. “Did I interpret your invitation incorrectly? Because--”

“No! I-- I was asking you out on a date, for sure,” you exclaimed, quick to fix him. “I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable going out with me. But yes! So you can make it?” You grew more excited. “I can buy us the tickets online--”

“I would be pleased to accompany you to the aquarium as your date. As for the tickets, I have just bought them,” Connor replied, his LED flickering as he made the purchase for the aquarium. At your protest, he said, “I insist. I need something to spend on, after all. You can pay for our food and drinks during the date.”

“Connor,” you pointed out, amused, “you don’t eat or drink.”

“Yes,” he agreed, not really understanding why you laughed, but happy to have caused you to nonetheless. “When should we meet?”

“10AM? I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll send you my address,” Connor responded, feeling thirium rush through his bio-components, imitating what it would feel if adrenaline was coursing through him. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

The warmth in your tone was enough for him to tell you felt the same.

The only thing standing between Connor and meeting you again was Hank, arms crossed. “No,” he said. It was late, and everyone was eager to go home on a Friday night. Connor would have thought Hank would feel the same, but it was apparent he did not. Not today, anyways.

Connor pressed his lips together. “I don’t see why--”

“You can’t show up on a date in your uniform,” Hank said in exasperation, “not even your Cyberlife outfit; it’s too formal for something like going to an aquarium, and it's like bringing your work with you.”

“She had indicated pleasure to seeing me in uniform,” Connor said defensively.

“That’s--” Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not the point. You can look good in other outfits, Connor. You need to make it a special occasion by… dressing up nice. She’s probably going to do the same for you.”

Connor thought deeply as Hank watched his LED swirl yellow for a few moments until he spotted a certain detective in the distance. The last time he had borrowed Hank’s formal clothing, it had either turned out too gaudy or large. Who could Connor borrow from that was his size (more or less) and was still here?

“Detective Reed,” Connor called out, ignoring the way the man turned to glare at him as his usual greeting. Hoping he was pulling out the best appeasing smile, Connor said, “I was wondering if you would like to go out for a few drinks with me.”

“And why the fuck don’t you have your own clothes, fucking plastic?” Gavin said hours later, watching with an exasperated expression as Connor looked through his closet for ‘date clothes.’ It was a good thing they had met after hours or Gavin would have rather died than talk to Connor civilly let alone offer Connor an opportunity to look in his closet to impress a girl; he pushed down the urge to regurgitate the five shots he had downed in an hour.

Picking up a plain white shirt to accompany a light blue jacket, Connor could only shrug. “I hadn’t thought I would need it,” he said honestly, scanning the closet before settling on khaki colored pants and white shoes that would accompany his top. “I was content on borrowing the lieutenant’s clothes.”

“Maybe your new girlfriend can help you get a goddamn fashion sense,” the other officer groused. Connor could see him rolling his eyes without actually turning around.

Blinking, Connor looked back at Gavin as he gathered the clothes. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

This time Connor did see Gavin roll his eyes. “Sure, tin can. Whatever you say,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You’re going on a date but you’re not dating, makes sense to me.”

“Thank you for the clothes, Detective,” Connor replied, giving the detective a small, albeit smug smile. “These clothes are shorter than my stature, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless--”

Connor ducked just in time to dodge the white sneakers that he had requested from Gavin which were exactly his size: a nine-and-a-half.

You rang the doorbell exactly ten minutes before the given time. Not that it mattered much since Connor was ready to go hours ago. He opened the door, watching as your face seemed to light up the moment you saw him. “Sorry,” you said immediately, “I came a little earlier than I thought.”

“Wow, it really has been too long,” you teased, evidently scanning your eyes up and down appreciatively before winking. You laughed when Connor stammered, unsure how to respond to both your flirtatious comment and also to the bombardment of emotions that rammed into him. It was like watching a flower in bloom: was it possible for you to be sweeter than last time you met?

Connor made a motion to welcome her in, and she abided, cheerfully greeting Sumo as he came up to her and sat at her feet. He couldn’t help but watch her in silent awe.

Your dark hair falling down in soft rivulets at your shoulders, it complemented the white top of your dress. Small bouquets of pink and red contrasted with the blue of the bottom half. Considering you topped it off with sandals that made you much shorter than Connor, forcing you to tilt your head up at him, did not help him deal with the fact your presence screamed “cute!” in his face.

It seemed that he had paused for too long of a moment because he hadn’t noticed that your attention had turned to him. “Connor? You okay?” You asked, going on your tip-toes to peer into his face.

“Yes! I’m perfectly fine.” Connor coughed, which made you even more confused, because when did androids need to clear their throats? “I apologize,” he said, “I was taken aback by your appearance. You seem to increase in attractiveness every time we meet.” When you began to blush, he continued with a hint of the same flirtatious tone you had used on him, “I’m afraid that someday you’ll be too stunning for me to look at.”

“Connor, stop!” You giggled, covering a snort that was nothing short of adorable as you objected to his admittedly corny lines. “I should say that to you!” You said, voice warm, “You look really good, honestly. I’m so glad we could go to the aquarium together. It’s been a long time since I last visited.”

Thinking back to the last minute advice Hank had for him, Connor politely stuck out his arm for you to take, pleased when you hooked arms with him without a second thought, smiling brightly. “Shall we go then?”

“I’ll lead the way!”

It was like a world on its own, for the most part. Certainly, neither of you could ignore the crowd that shuffled the two of you down a popular show of whales or sharks. (Connor didn’t mind this; it gave him an opportunity to hold you hands so you wouldn’t get separated from him.) That didn’t stop Connor from glancing over at you ever so often and simply admire the unadulterated emotions on your face. He liked to pinpoint the mole you had on your eyelid (“Almost like a beauty mark,” you told him) and see your eyes widen when a particularly pretty jellyfish floated its way across the glassed containers.

Perhaps it wasn’t a mystery why he thought you looked more attractive. Being able to know you, understanding why you were so fascinated by otters (you liked the fact they held hands in their sleep; Connor glanced down at his own hand that you had never let go) or even knowing why you fussed over buying him a souvenir (because how could you let him pay for everything?). He even liked the way you ate with such enjoyment even though you seemed to hold back because “Connor, come on, I can’t just swallow the entire sandwich whole; we’re in public.”

It was these little quirks about you that made you you that made you so attractive. There could be no one else out there that could be exactly like you, and he knew that he particularly liked every part of that made you unique to him. “You’re similar to this kaleidoscope,” Connor commented when you had gushed over its sea-related designs. When you had laughed, he continued with a smile on his face. “You have many facets, all of which are completely distinct from everyone else,” he said, turning the octoscope for a moment. “No matter how much I turn it, it continues to give me a unique array of color that creates a beautiful work of art that I can never tire of.”

If he noticed the wetness of your eyes or how determined you were to buy this for him, Connor said nothing. He only gripped your hand tighter as the two of you continued down the tiles of the aquarium.

The two of you walked slowly, hand in hand, looking in awe at the abundance of life in each window of the aquarium. Connor stopped for a bit longer at one section, watching the dwarf gourami swim leisurely through the water. When he felt a tug at his hand, he immediately switched his attentions toward you, who had begun to dreamily follow the dimly lit blue lights down the tunnel of water where seals circled around without a care in the world. They stepped down in a dome-like fixture of the seal exhibit, letting a group of tourists by so they had the room to themselves.

It was at this moment Connor felt your attention waver. He watched in mild confusion as your temperature began to warm and your heart beat increased without a change in scenery. “Is there something wrong?” He watched as you climbed up to a higher stair-step, never letting go of his hand, and it was hard for him to hide the immense amount of adoration he held for you when you weren’t turned his way. Even now, as you faced away from him momentarily, he could still see the tinge of red high on your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, finally standing tall enough that you no longer needed to look up at him. “I just-- I just wanted to be your height for a sec.”

Connor tilted his head, as he always did when confused. “Alright,” he said. “Not that I mind, but I’m growing rather concerned about your rise in temperature; are you sure you--”

“I’m fine, Connor,” you said, laughing, gripping his hands tightly. “I-- um,” you licked your lips, “I just thought it’d be easier for me to kiss you if I was like this.”

You looked at him shyly. Connor could barely feel himself think.

“Is that… okay?” You asked nervously, bunching up your hands in front of you.

Connor opened his mouth, surprisingly dry, and closed it. It wasn’t as if he lacked words to say, but he doubted his voice could function well at all. Instead, emulating the scenarios from rom-com movies Hank fell asleep to, Connor stepped closer to you, noting the way your breath hitched, and lightly held onto your waist.

“That is…” he began, feeling his thirium pump work towards overheating when he saw your eyes dilate as your eyes trailed over his lips. He watched you as if time slowed, your eyes fluttering closed and your face growing closer. “That is more than okay,” he said before your lips pressed against his.

Connor couldn’t describe it. It was difficult to string his thoughts together let alone put his thoughts into words. It was softness, passion, nervous energy, eagerness, and something heated all combined into the kisses you shared with him. You reached up to hold his face closer, and he slid his hands across the fabric of your dress to pull you closer, closer. He was no good at kissing, as it seemed practice actually did make perfect in these cases, but for what mattered, it didn’t seem as you cared, based off the way you breathed heavily and combed through his hair in a way that made him shiver.

When you pulled away, he was delighted and adoring in how your face was flushed in embarrassment as if you weren’t the one to initiate the kiss in the first place. You stammered something Connor couldn’t hear, but he was at least glad that he wasn’t the only who could barely think straight.

“Sorry,” he said, making you look up at him with starry eyes. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.” And he swooped in for another kiss.

Connor’s emotions came in likes waves, pushing and pulling him along without direction. It was overwhelming, the way he felt the need to hold your waist so he could press your body to his but also the desire to simply caress your face and just be. Connor recognized this feeling; he had swam against the current last time, trying to regain control of himself because of the sense of instability. This time was different. He didn’t mind this tidal wave of feelings for you lift him up higher and higher.

You were an ocean that he wanted to drown in.

Connor knew he had a lot to learn about you and about human emotions. Still, in the back of his mind, there part of him that was still drifting along the tide, thinking to himself that perhaps this was the start of his journey of falling in love with you.

[writingevanhansen]

Hey, Neighbor. (Connor Murphy x fem!Reader)

should I be filling requests and stocking up on fics? probably. am i writing this stuff instead? you bet. if someone wants a gender neutral version just shoot me an ask!! i won’t mind making an edited version but i just felt like this was easier to write for a girl!!

Ship: Connor Murphy x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,571

“I think you’ll like it here, (Y/N)!” Your mom said.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Mom. Why do we need a new house? Our old house was fine. We’re not even moving to a new town! I’m going to the same school, except now it’s just farther away!” You said, clearly agitated. Your mom was driving you to the new house your family purchased. Your parents called it the “fancy” side of town, but you knew it was mainly where rich snobs lived, and you were neither of those things.

“Your dad got that big promotion, hun, and it was just time.” You stopped arguing with your mom. You knew it would go nowhere. “And also, we get to move in next to Cynthia! How exciting is that?!” Cynthia Murphy had been your mom’s best friend since before you can remember. Whenever you were younger, you and Zoe Murphy had lots of playdates. You knew there was a son named Connor, too, but you didn’t know much about him. His father always conveniently took him out on “father-son bonding trips” whenever you came over.

“I haven’t seen Zoe in awhile,” You thought out loud. “How is she?”

“I guess we will see tonight!” Your mother cheered. “We are going over to the Murphy’s for dinner! Cynthia and I have been so excited about…” your mom droned on as you zoned out, leaning back in your seat. Did this mean you had to dress up?

You pulled into the driveway of your new and excessively large home. It was white...and...excessively large. It was nearly identical to all of the other excessively large, white homes in the excessively large, white neighborhood. Your dad was coming with the moving van with the rest of the stuff later, so for now, all you had was your trust cardboard box filled with a few clothing items and knick knacks.

Taking your small cardboard box into your new room, you stepped back and observed it. There were 4 high, beige walls with a walk in closet. You even had your own bathroom! There were two windows: one looking out towards the road, and the other facing a house next door. You sigh and set down your box, taking out the contents inside: a string of fairy lights, some framed pictures from your family vacations, your makeup bag, a hairbrush and toothbrush, a polaroid of your best friend, your most comfortable pajama pants, a sweater, and a dress. You sighed. Since you couldn’t do anything else, you started getting ready for the Murphy’s. Your mind was in another world, thinking about how to hand up the fairy lights.

You struggled getting your shirt off for some odd reason, and you ended up sitting in the floor yanking at it, but it worked. You stood back up and kicked off your shoes and slid off your pants. You slipped the dress on and ran to the bathroom to fix your hair and touch up your makeup. The only shoes you had right now were the converse you had worn there, so the converse-dress combo would just have to do.

You and your mom walked over to the Murphy home together. Cynthia opened the door with a smiling face. “(Y/M/N)! (Y/N)! So nice to see you both! Come in!” She gave you a bone-crushing hug, as if you were a friend she hadn’t seen for centuries. Zoe appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, (Y/N).” She said with a gentle smile.

“Hey, Zoe. Long time no see.” You said, returning the smile.

“Zoe, why don’t you take (Y/N) to your room while I finish setting up the table? Me and (Y/M/N) need to have some Mother-Catch-Up-Time!” Cynthia said, laughing. Zoe nodded and gestured for you to follow her. You both walked in silence until you reached a small wood door. Zoe opened it and you followed.

“Sorry for the mess,” Zoe said, “I was practicing.” Sheet music was strewed about the room with a guitar laying on the bed in the midst of it all. You shrugged.

“It’s okay, my old room looked like a tornado blew through it.” You said. You both laughed (semi-awkwardly) at the small talk and continued the light chatter until there was a knock on the door.

“Zoe, when are those (Y/L/N) people getting here?” An unfamiliar voice said. The door swung open, revealing a tall, lanky boy dressed in dark clothing. You both made eye contact, and he turned red and fell silent.

“They’re here,” Zoe said, gesturing towards you, “and at least you knocked this time, but next time wait until I say you can-” The boy, still red, shut the door without another word. Zoe shrugged it off, “I’m sorry. He’s ridiculous.” You shook your head, still slightly shocked by the boy’s beauty.

“It’s fine...That was Connor, right?” you asked.

“Yeah. Have you never met him before?” Zoe said. You shook your head again. “Well...then you’re really lucky.”

Dinner was odd. You sat next to Zoe and across from Connor, who refused to look up from his plate of spaghetti. After a while, you noticed his odd behavior, and stared at him, trying to make some sort of eye contact. To your surprise, he looked right up at you, but then he turned back to the same shade of read and looked back down at his meal. You huffed quietly. What was his deal?

Your mom and Cynthia were having some more “Mother-Catch-Up-Time” after dinner, so you, Zoe, and surprisingly Connor, settled in the living room watching some movie you didn’t care to watch. You were staring at Connor, who was sitting in the armchair with his legs swung over the side, and his back leaning up against the other. You and Zoe were both sat on the couch. You kept staring at Connor. Every so often, he would glance back to look at you and would catch you staring. Then he would switch his head back towards the TV, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

Zoe got up to use the bathroom, and you decided to use this opportunity to talk to Connor. You stood up and squatted next to Connor.

“What’s up?” You asked. Apparently he hadn’t noticed you, because he jumped about a foot in the air.

“What...what do you mean?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear and re-adjusting himself to face you. You shrugged.

“Just trying to make conversation.” You sat with your legs folded on the floor next to him. Connor remained silent. “Okay, listen. I’m not an idiot. Something’s up. What’s wrong?” You ask. Connor shook his head.

“If I told you you’d hate me.” He said.

“Connor, I literally just met you. That’d have to be a pretty powerful statement to make me hate you already.” You put your hands behind you, leaning back, trying to make Connor more comfortable. He shifted more in his seat, remaining silent.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” He said, gesturing towards the noise of your drunk mothers in the kitchen. He stood up and grabbed your wrist, leading you towards the front door, making your heart lurch.

“What about Zoe?” you asked.

“Eh...she’ll be fine.”

Your feet dangled in the water of the Murphy’s pool as you sat on the edge with Connor. He had his pants rolled up and the pool light made his skin glow. You had sat in silence for the most part, but occasionally, you two would share small talk. It wasn’t an awkward silence, really, but more of a comfortable silence. Just to be able to relax in one another’s presence said more words than any conversation could. Finally, you addressed the elephant in the room.

“You never answered my question.” you said. You could hear Connor’s breathing hitch for a moment. He took a deep breath.

“(Y/N)...People think I’m a loser and a freak, and maybe I am, but when I tell you this, you have to promise to put all of those pre assumptions away, okay?” Connor said quietly. You nodded.

“I promise.” Connor took another deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I saw you naked.”

“WHAT?!” You shouted, turning towards him. Connor buried his head in his hands.

“I know and I’m sorry it was all a total accident it’s just that your window was open and mine is directly across from yours and I just glanced out my window and saw you and it was an accident I swear I’m not perverted or anything and-” his long string of words stopped when he saw your face. He just noticed that you were smiling, laughing even. Just laughing and shaking your head.

“Connor, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.” You said, smiling, placing a hand on his arm. His face became warm for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “It’s not your fault.” Removing your hand, you sat back. “I’m sorry you had to see me naked.”

Connor mumbled under his breath.

“What?” You said. Connor turned a deeper shade of red.

“I said you’re really pretty,” Connor muttered. Now you were the one to blush. You both sat there quietly, listening to the trickling water. You scooted over closer to him and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers.

And that was all that needed to be said.

[acoolguyscoollife]

Chapter 17: Despair!

“We’re going to do what now?” Seth asked incredulously, a sentiment and feeling I agreed with wholeheartedly. Tabitha had said it as if she was describing dinner plans, and yet, it was the edgiest thing I’d ever heard said outside of an indie film that floats around the internet.

“Okay, I know how that sounds.” Tabitha began, as the void around us began to fade, the signature sign of us travelling. “But trust me, someone who’s been jumping between worlds this long, they’ll know how to avoid death. Technically, this wouldn’t kill them.” Tabitha raised a finger as she spoke, to punctuate her speech.

“Wait, hang on, I’m confused.” Aki said, more to me than anyone else, though I’m sure the others could hear her too. “What are we actually calling this? World-hopping? Dimensional jumps?” She raised a good point. All this time, I’d been just using what came right, but a definitive term would definitely be useful.

“I say we call it travelling. Technically the truth, but vague enough so when we say we’re travellers from a far-away place, nobody’s gonna think much about it.” Amy proposed, which worked for me. Travelling. Had a catchy ring to it, now that I thought about it. The world had finally shifted completely to the one we’d travelled to, and immediately, the stench became clear. I’d thought that the sewers in The Under-World had been bad, but this stunk of… flesh. It was a little disconcerting, but slightly alleviated by actually seeing where the smell came from. Seth clearly had a field day when he had come here, as we were surrounded by pig-headed demonic creatures. It didn’t take much for me to know that we were in Despair, a hyper-violent shooter with a wisecracking protagonist. Speaking of, he had set in well, quickly grabbing a shotgun that had been strewn on the floor. I half-expected him to say something about a boomstick, but before he could, Tabitha spoke up.

“We’re looking for something else that Uchen left in here. Think of it as a fetch quest, each one letting us travel to another world where we keep getting closer. Neither Uchen nor the protégé have the machine, so we can move faster than both.” Tabitha messed around with the wall of the room we were in, which only just now registered as a futuristic military base, complete with hidden computers and holographic maps, both of which she managed to make visible quickly.

“We’ll split up, cover more ground that way. Amy, Aki, and CG, you take the north end of the facility. Tabitha and I will take the south. We’ll rendezvous at 1600.” Seth said confidently, and I checked my watch. It was at 2PM currently, meaning only a few hours of separation. “Synchronise watches on my mark.” He added, moving to adjust his watch, as the rest of us just stared blankly.

“Seth, we weren’t in different time-zones. We’ve all got our watches set to the same time.” I said, and he frowned.

“Couldn’t just go with it, could you?” Seth grumbled, turning away to face the south corridor. Tabitha hurried to follow him, as I grouped up with the other two. “So, do we actually know what we’re looking for, or was I right in thinking that Tabitha totally overlooked that?” Amy asked me, and I nodded at her in response, causing her to curse under her breath.

“We’ll know it when we see it.” I said firmly, hiding my doubt even from myself. “Most likely.” I added, out of habit.

Seth

Ka-BOOM!

The force of the shotgun blast caused my body to buckle, but my smile didn’t falter, despite the gore and general viscera that was splattering everywhere. Tabitha was using magic against some pig-demons coming from one way, as I used my boomstick and sometimes my pistol to take on the ones from my side. When I had a moment’s reprieve, I glanced over at her, watching as she fought. Her hair was splayed even more than normal, but that was nothing compared to the fire literally shooting from her hands, lighting up her face with every ball of flames that flew towards the demons. One got close to her, and I moved for my pistol to shoot it down, but she was quicker. A swift hand-gesture, and the demon wasn’t given the chance to stop moving, hoisted and thrown over her shoulder to the floor behind her before it had a chance to react. She gave me a quick look before turning back to the ones that were still coming, and the demon began to move. The kick from the pistol wasn’t as powerful as the shotgun had been, but it still sent a crack of noise through the air as the demon was given some incentive to stop living. One of the pig demons managed to grab her lab coat, which tore slightly under the claws of the demon, but in return, Tabitha burnt his face and pushed it into a wall, which I honestly thought was fair. Never mess with someone’s style.

“Jeez, I’m kinda seeing why you enjoy stuff like this.” Tabitha said after everything had quietened down, hopping in place with excess adrenaline. “It is very cathartic.” A hand came up to wipe the sweat off her brow, and I saw her wince as she realised that her arm had been a bit more injured than she thought it would have.

“Hey, let me.” I said, tearing off a part of the tattered v-neck I was wearing and wrapping it around her shoulder-wound. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch for a bit, but should be better soon.” Tabitha looked away as I worked, and I knew this was something she wasn’t happy about, but had to deal with. Out of everyone, I was the one with the most medical training, so she knew I’d just chastise her for trying to do it herself.

“And what are you going to do about being practically shirtless now, nurse Allen?” She replied, using her good arm to poke me in the stomach. “You’re a pretty good poster-boy for an attractive action hero, but I still think that some sort of protection would be better than going Arnold.” I made sure that the final knot tightened just enough to make her wince, before loosening it to what it needed to be.

“Alchemy, right? I’ll just…” I began, looking around for something I could work with, before grabbing some of the leather clothing that the demons wore. “Do something like this.” Alchemy was easier said than done, it turns out, but taking off my shirt and making some minor modifications to the rips in it didn’t take too much effort. So little effort, in fact, that I took some more of the demon leather and fashioned a lightweight jacket out of it. I kinda looked as if I was ripping off CG’s look, but it would just be something he had to deal with.

“You’re wearing that? It’s hotter than hell in here.” Tabitha said with an eyebrow raised, looking me up and down. “Turn around for a second.” She added, taking off her lab coat, and I quickly did so. While I knew she had clothes underneath it, I wasn’t about to question turning away from someone when clothes were involved. A few seconds passed, during which I could hear the faint crackle of alchemical energy. “You can look now.” Tabitha said, letting me turn and look at her. I caught sight of her sending the lab coat to her void storage, and took a moment to see her new look. If my style was copying CG’s, then her style was copying Amy’s. The tank-top that Tabitha wore was white, however, which worked quite well with the aesthetic of action hero.

“I like it. It’s very Sarah Connor.” I remarked, causing her to grin.

“Well then…” she said as she picked up one of the guns left on the floor (Seriously, these things were everywhere). “Come with me if you want to live.” I stifled a laugh at her poor delivery of the line, and took a quick few steps to catch up with her.

“You not gonna put your hair up or something? Leaving it loose might end badly.” I asked, and she shook her head, causing said hair to hit both her and me in the face.

“It’s demons, not zombies. I’ll be fine.” Tabitha reassured me, as a clatter came from ahead. She brought up the pistol, resting her outstretched arm on one that sat at an angle to her. The path ahead was darker, but a snap of the fingers in her free hand and a fireball hovered there, lighting up nearby.

“You’ve got fireballs and you’re using a gun.” I said under my breath, rolling my eyes as I did so.

“Yeah, because there’s no exertion whatsoever in using magic.” Tabitha replied back with the same amount of snark. Whatever was in the darkness was beginning to move closer, claws clattering against the cold steel floor.

“Realistically, it shouldn’t make a difference, but with you waving your arms around I can see why it would.” I retorted. More claws against the ground.

“Those gestures are highly necessary! It channels the energy in the form I want!” Tabitha said adamantly. The creature in the darkness crawled forward, becoming visible in the light, and let out a blood-curdling screech in my general direction.

“Oi!” I yelled at it, pulling on the leather strap that held the shotgun so it flipped into my hands. “Mother and father are fighting!” I quipped, causing it to charge. It reached point blank range, practically swallowing the shotgun, when I fired, blowing it up.

“…mother and father?” Tabitha said, wiping the blood off her glasses. “Was that really the best you could do?”

“Honestly, as soon as I came up with it, I didn’t want to use it, but I blanked on thinking of anything better.” I replied, loading another shell into the shotgun. “I really feel for whoever has to clean this up.” I added, looking at the explosion of guts that was everywhere now.

“Yeah. Gross.” Tabitha stepped around the gore, pushing onwards. I made a point of it to step in the guts, almost falling over as a result, which thankfully wasn’t seen. “So, CG, you know him more than everyone else.” Tabitha said casually when I had caught up to her.

“I believe that’s how best friends work, yeah.” I replied, as the similarities of the walls made me think we were walking in circles, even when going in a straight line.

“I mean, I know him, obviously, but like… I’ve never known him to be so out of his shell.” She said, glancing around a corner at a crossroads we had reached. “He ever been that way with you?”

“Not with me, no. There was one time he was very different, but that was when he was seeing someone.” I covered the other corner, as the two of us moved to the other side, staying in the direction we were going.

“Oh yeah, I think I remember you talking about that a bit once. Something about a harlot stealing your best friend?” Tabitha’s smirk was audible, despite the fact that I could barely see a few inches in front of my face.

“Dude, when I’m drunk, I’ll say anything. What about you, why are you suddenly so interested in CG’s personal life?” I was curious. While she was scientific at heart, she never really socialised well, so for her to notice someone else’s personality changes… if nothing else, it was a prime target for mocking. “You got a crush on him or something?” I said, purposefully raising the pitch of my voice to hit that peak level of annoying style.

“Get bent, buggerface. I’m not into weird guys, even if they’re nice friends to have. I prefer people that actually get me, and stuff. People I can have dumb jokes with. Like you, you know?” Tabitha said as we walked. Simultaneously, our footsteps stopped, as the words she had just said sunk in.

“Like me?” I asked, unsure of what else to say. It had started my mind racing, thinking about way too much stuff, in way too small a timeframe.

“Let’s put a pin in that, okay? We’ve got a lot to do, and being distracted with that probably won’t do much.” Tabitha said, and I agreed quickly. There was no point dwelling on something as significant as that, right? No, definitely not. Everything was A-Okay.

CG

Everything was not okay.