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Intertidal Zone

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.

♱⋅── word count: 6.7k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, fem! masterbation, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf

art credit to @/khouxy on instagram

You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose. 

The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.

It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.

It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind. 

Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night. 

“How’s your drawing?” 

Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but. 

“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.

He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder. 

“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?” 

You hoped the together was implicit by now.

But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”

Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness. 

Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was. 

Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship. 

You’re leaning in despite yourself. 

Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away. 

You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before. 

When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”

The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him. 

But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.

He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.  

"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."

A laugh. Dry, humorless. 

His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.” 

You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.

"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"

"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."

"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.” 

Like he’s always fucking starving.

Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”

You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.

“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"

Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."

You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."

"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"

The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more. 

“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.” 

Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.

“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”

His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another. 

“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”

You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.

More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you. 

The glass lays shattered against the floor. 

Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses. 

“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.” 

The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever. 

“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”

“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts. 

“Fuck.” 

You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”

You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you. 

By the third time, you know something is wrong. 

It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long. 

But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues. 

So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up. 

You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel. 

His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again— 

It’s the cold that wakes you up. 

Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs. 

“Rafayel?”

A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand. 

“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console. 

He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.

Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.

"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.

Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."

The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.

Yet again, he stops you halfway.

“Do you want to go back to your room first?”

At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point. 

“You’re not coming with me?” 

Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”

“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”

“Cutie…”

“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”

Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?” 

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.

Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”

“What kind of promise?”

A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”

There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true. 

So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”

Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true. 

Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching. 

You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.  

Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”

Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.

Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets. 

You need him. 

Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.

The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire. 

And then the room is all too hot once again. 

Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated. 

A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing. 

Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.

You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.

How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.

And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.

Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”

Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—

Without him.

A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.

You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"

The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs. 

There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains. 

You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition. 

It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it. 

Shit. This is Rafayel’s room. 

You must be trying to kill him.

Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.

Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.

The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.

Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart. 

It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.

Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.

He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.

But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul. 

It’s not fair.

No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.

Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.

Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left? 

Shit. He’s hard.

“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?” 

The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites. 

The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide. 

Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”

The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear. 

Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.

As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.

A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you. 

Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him. 

You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.

The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.

But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.

Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.

He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.

There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.

It's the last breath you take.

An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.

“Rafayel? What are you doing here?” 

The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs. 

Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.

You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”

Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again. 

You can feel the cloth slipping.

But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.

It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.

So you bite him. 

“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”

Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile. 

Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.

"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat. 

“Or was that intentional?”

The look in his eyes is feral. 

There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper. 

The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again. 

“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”

He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin. 

“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”

Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours. 

Oh.

A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.

Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—

“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."

A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.

"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."

Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess. 

He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you. 

“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”

He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”

Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit. 

Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk. 

“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”

Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.

Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again. 

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—

The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.

“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whiping his chin as he goes to decline the call.

But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard who tried to take Rafayel from you tonight. 

“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”

Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept. 

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”

Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back. 

His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm.

Ripping his shirt’s buttons off, you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man. 

“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses. 

No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again. 

You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest. 

And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more. 

Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”

“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”

Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,” before flashing twice, still running. 

Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.

“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”

“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."

He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.

“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”

“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”

“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”

At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you. 

You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in. 

His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots. 

Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.

Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.

It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.

But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.

Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.

He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.

"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.

But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.

"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."

He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.

Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.

"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there. 

It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.

Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.

It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips. 

And that alone is enough.

Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still. 

"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."

You're cumming.

He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears. 

Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies. 

As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods. 

God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun. 

The one who's still kneeling before you. 

The one who you love. 

"Maximum voicemail length reached, recording sent."

♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.

Oh the things I’d give to hear Raf sing~

[maiackmn]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look of scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[maiackmn]

sylus always answers your calls. always. no exceptions.

he could be in the middle of a gun fight or a messy interrogation but when he hears the inside joke of a ringtone he set for you, he uses his evol to shackle everyone in place while he answers, calm and collected as can be.

“kitten, it’s late in linkon — you should be sleeping. no, i’m not busy at the moment.” a cold glare is the only warning his enemies get to stay quiet. “what do you need?”

some of the world’s most powerful and feared men have had their final agonizing moments prolonged by listening to the leader of onychinus sweet-talk you.

[maiackmn]

I just read that Connor writing you did about reader being the neighbor and I NEEEEEEDDDD the rest you’re such an amazing writer that cliffhanger got me😔

ohh my god thank you <3

it was my first time writing smth for connor and i was a bit nervous so ig that's why i left it at that 😭

part 1

"i'm sorry, this has never happened before-"

"d'you need.. any help with it?"

"i guess i do.. could uh- could you help me?"

"i thought you'd never ask"

now he was sat on your couch looking around the room. he'd never been over to your place before so he was trying to analyze anything that could tell him something about you that he didn't already know

he saw some books on a shelf, titles he recognized, some of them he knew you burrowed from hank

some makeup products amongst which he spotted what he assumed was your favourite shade of lipstick, since you wore it almost all the time, just like you were now

he memorized it, the image of your lips coated in that pretty shade. he'd often even fantasize about them

he wondered how they would feel like against his own when you kissed him, how his skin would look like littered with stains from you

he looked at the walls at every picture frame, some of them were of you, some of them of people he did not recognize

but what caught his eye was the little picture frame on the drawer next to the tv. a picture of you between him and hank holding sumo up by his front legs

he had the same picture on his nightstand at hanks place, their place

he remembered that day so clearly. it was the day he started acknowledging the fact that he might be falling in love with you

he snapped out of the trance like state he was in when you sat beside him shyly, your attitude so different from when you invited him in. your cortisol levels were higher than usual

you were stressed.

you were the one who offered to help him, so why are you feeling so anxious? you wondered where did all that boldness go?

he agreed to your offer, so you know he's expecting something from you

"uhh, have you.. have you done this before?"

"what? engaged in sexual intercourse? no, i haven't, yet"

"oh so.. you know how things are done, right? i supposed it's the same thing as if you were a hum- oh shit, i'm so so sorry that sounded so wrong-"

"you don't need to apologize, it's the truth, i'm an android, but that doesn't matter, right?"

his hand sneaks onto your thigh giving you a reassuring squeeze. his touch is pleasant, very pleasant

you wonder how you could go such a long time without it? without having him so close to you

interesting how such a small interaction can have such a big effect on you. now he's curious what other type of interaction may result in

"yeah i guess you're right.."

you lean towards him instinctively, connor mimicking your movement. you're so close to him, you can see every little freckle and mole on his face, god he's so handsome

your noses almost touch while you do some analyzing of your own. then you see his LED has turned from the previous peachy colour to a light pink shade

that's new as well

before you can ask him about it he closes the gap between you two, finally getting to feel the softness of your lips against his

everything is happening so fast that you don't even realize you ended up in your bedroom caged under his weight

your head is spinning and your ears are ringing while he trails kisses on your exposed neck

in your trance like state, lost in your own thoughts, you once again fail to notice when all your clothes disappear, thrown by connor somewhere on your bedroom floor

you feel his hands rubbing up and down your body, inspecting you, analyzing you while he feels your sweet scent invading his system

his thigh is nudged between your legs grinding up into you and his LED is flickering fastly, a now hot pink shade lighting up in the dim light of the room

you didn't even think he was.. equipped with the parts you're seeing now, that you feel poking at your thigh

sure, you heard about androids designed to do only this, their sole purpose being to pleasure humans

but after all, he was one of cyberlife's most advanced models, maybe they thought he'd need this in some investigation?

you read in an ad for the eden clubs about the traci models, and you remember feeling sick to your stomach after finding out what some humans did to the poor androids, how could anyone do this to another being?

that's the problem, they were not beings in the eyes of the cruel people that tortured them

The WR400 models are the most advanced design of sex partners. These specially developed models are equipped with functional genitals and are designed to fulfill all fantasies, from the most common to the most exotic.

The WR400 can easily be customized to alter their appearance at will, catering to the tastes of any client. Sexual intercourse with such machines does not fall under prostitution and is not prohibited by any law.

machines. that's all they were in the eyes of the monsters that did all those horrible things to them, no wonder some of them deviated and killed their aggressor

you didn't feel pity for them, why should you? they got exactly what they deserved, no one should be treated that way

you look up at him and into his eyes noticing the warmth and emotion in them while he analyzes you too. how could someone look at an android and not see a living being? another human?

connor looks human, sounds human, acts human and you sure do know that he thinks and feels like a human

hank told you what happened at the club, after the first time you saw connor dragging the grumpy hungover lieutenant in the car

later that night he called you asking you to come to the park

you didn't ask him what happened, where he went, what he did and why the hell he was in the park so late at night

instead you got dressed for the cold weather and put on the lovely coat you got for sumo to match the blue color of his leash

hank would often tease you and laugh at your overcaring personality towards his dog, but he was glad that you were there to take care of sumo when he couldn't

he also felt guilty about not being there for his furry companion at times, but at least he was glad that he had you

"he's a dog honey, he won't feel the cold, don't you see all that damn fur? i sure do see it on my clothes"

you responded in a baby voice scratching the saint bernard's head while he licked at your hand

"ohh, is that so boy? are you shedding again? maybe we should brush you this evening, what about a bath, huh? you'd like that sumo?"

the only response you got was an excited loud bark and fast wagging of his big fluffy tail

of course he didn't understand a damn thing you said, he just loved when you talked to him using that voice

you were sure he wouldn't love it when he ended up in the bathtub later that evening

you once read somewhere that his breed adores 'water activities such as playtime in the shallow waters but also swimming a bit deeper' maybe the tub wasn't deep enough for his liking? and the dog shampoo you rubbed on him surely didn't help

you knew where to find hank, he always sat on the same bench. he once told you he used to come here with his son, before the tragic accident happened

you recognized his car and your heart skipped a beat when you saw connor in the passenger seat

you tapped on the window and when he rolled it down you could hear the familiar heavy metal your neighbour liked to blast out in the middle of the night

connor told you that there was a "minor issue that had occurred" between them, that hank said he'd go and get "more drunk" but he just paced around the bench while he went back to the car

his answers were so calculated and stoic back then, his tone cold and so different from the tone he used right now to compliment and praise you

"such a good girl f'me.. so eager to help me.. d'you know how long i've been waiting to do this..?"

you feel his fingers dragging through the dampness between your legs while he is smirking at you

"mno.. a-ahh fuck- connor please-"

"since the first time i saw you..d'you know i thought you were hank's wife at first? fuck you have no idea how relived i was when he told me you were just his neighbour.. "

he remembered seeing you later that same night, after his argument with the lieutenant.

you brought sumo with you in a blue fluffy coat and asked him to watch the dog while you had a talk with his partner

he watched you walk angrily to where the man was sat on the bench and he saw your pissed of expression when you snatched the bottle from his hands and smashed it on the ground

"hey, what the fuck d'you think you're doing you fucking andro- oh, sorry i thought you were-"

"seriously hank? was it not enough when you almost got yourself into a coma earlier?"

"wait, how'd you kno-"

"oh i don't know, maybe because i saw the broken window and the bottles in your kitchen when i came after sumo? damn it hank, you have to stop or you'll end up killing yourself one day"

"oh spare me the lecture darling, y'know you sound just like him right now"

"like who?"

"like the cocky bastard sitting in my car, always bragging about accomplishing every mission, well guess what, this time he didn't"

he told you about what happened at the club, how they caught the two deviants responsible for a murder, how connor couldn't wouldn't shoot them

you knew then, even before he did, that he was slowly becoming a deviant himself

slowly becoming the man who currently held you close to his chest while entered you slowly

"fuuck sweetheart.. you feel so good wrapped around me.."

he felt you clinging to him desperately whimpering when he was fully inside you where he stayed still, letting you accommodate while feeling your pulsing walls squeezing him

"thought you'd be more uh- bold after seeing you deal with hank so many times.."

he liked how you put the loud mouthed lieutenant in his place every time he acted up, something he couldn't do since he had to obey him but he loved seeing you doing it in his place

but seeing you so different and submissive while squirming under him turned him on so much, especially when he knew that he was the one to make you act that way

"oh, i'm sorry it's just that-"

"i'm not complaining.. i actually like it"

he starts moving slowly while rubbing your hip, a comforting touch that made your stomach flutter

his pace was a slow one, dragging out every thrust while relishing in the way you felt and sounded

after you were done he held you close to his chest rubbing circles into your shoulder blades with his strong yet gentle fingers

he was afraid you were going to ask him to leave, maybe this was just a casual thing to you, you were just 'helping' him, as you said you would earlier that evening

what if you were only doing what hank asked you? helping him.. explore what being human felt like

and fuck he felt so alive in that moment, it was like you two (and the sleeping dog in your living room) were the only creatures on the planet, nothing mattered

not anymore when he was here, with you

"please don't go.."

"i won't, i promise"

[maiackmn]

Pregnancy Scare

pairing | josh washington x fem!reader

word count | 4.9k words

summary | you are slowly pulling away from your boyfriend, Josh, frustrated because of this secret his keeping. Matters only get worse when you realize your period is late.

tags | angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy scare, mentions of pregnancy, teenagers in love, fluff, mentions of mental illness, confessions, no description of reader

a/n | hey beautiful people, just wanted to say that these are extractions from my actual fanfic on A03, unfortunately it is Josh x OC, but if you guys are interested it's called Echoes Of Us

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

MASTERLIST

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Your mind was racing as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the calendar pinned to your wall. The little red circle marking the start of your period last month seemed to mock you now. It had been over a week—a week—and nothing.

Your chest tightened as you buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You were eighteen—still figuring everything out, still planning your future. And now the universe had decided to throw you a curveball you weren't ready for.

To make matters worse, you hadn’t spoken to Josh in days. You had been dodging his texts, ignoring his calls, and making every excuse to avoid seeing him when he came back home for the weekend.

It was easier this way. The secrets he’d been keeping had created a wedge between the two of you, and it was suffocating you.

You didn’t know what was worse—the way he would dodge your questions with a charming smile or cheesy joke or the nagging feeling in your gut that he didn’t trust you enough to let you all the way in.

And now? Now, you might be pregnant. Pregnant, for god’s sake. You let out a bitter laugh at the thought. "Eighteen and pregnant. That’ll look great on my college applications."

Your gaze drifted toward your phone on the nightstand. Josh’s name was still at the top of your unread messages. The last one from him was from this morning:

Sun, May 20, 2012,

10:47 AM

Josh: Baby, I’m sorry. Can you just talk to me?

11:19 AM

Josh: Please?

Your stomach churned. The thought of talking to him made you want to scream and cry all at once. What would you even say? That you were furious with him for keeping things from you?

That you weren't sure you could trust him? Or maybe you'd lead with the bombshell that you might be carrying his baby?

Your fingers trembled as you grabbed the unopened pregnancy test from your bag, your heart pounding in your chest. You had driven two towns over to buy it, far enough from Santa Monica that no one you knew could catch you.

Even then, you hadn’t been able to meet the cashier’s eyes as they scanned the box and handed it over.

Now it sat in your hands, small and unassuming, but it felt heavier than anything you'd ever held. A deep groan escaped you as you shoved the box under your pillow, as though hiding it would make it less real. Flopping back onto your bed, you grabbed your phone, hoping for a distraction.

Big mistake.

Your chest tightened as you scrolled through your notifications. A string of unread messages from Josh stared back at you, a silent accusation.

You locked your phone without responding, holding it to your chest. The guilt gnawed at you. Avoiding Josh was one thing, but there were also unread messages from Beth. That was worse. So much worse.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. Beth didn’t deserve this. She'd always been the supportive one, the steady one. Ignoring her felt like betraying your friendship.

But how could you face Beth right now? The thought of seeing her filled you with dread. Beth had this uncanny ability to read you like a book—she’d take one look at you and know something was wrong.

You could already picture the concerned tilt of Beth’s head, the gentle but insistent questions, the way she’d push until you cracked.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words would come spilling out, “Hey, B, guess what? You’re going to be an aunt.”

Just imagining it made your stomach twist into knots. You couldn’t handle that conversation—not with Josh, not with Beth, not with anyone.

The spiral was already beginning, your thoughts circling darker and darker, and you clutched your pillow tightly against your chest as though the pressure might keep you from completely unraveling.

Your breaths were shallow, and you were dangerously close to a full-blown breakdown when the soft buzz of your phone snapped you out of it.

You froze, your heart jumping into your throat. Tentatively, you picked up the phone, half-dreading yet another message from Josh or Beth.

But when you glanced at the screen, you let out a shaky sigh of relief. It wasn’t them.

It was Em.

13:05 PM

Emily: Shopping later?

You stared at the text for a moment, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. Emily’s bluntness was weirdly comforting—it was one of the few things you could count on to stay consistent. You really could use a distraction, something to pull you out of your own head.

13:06 PM

You: Barney's in an hour?

It didn’t take long for Emily to reply.

13:07 PM

Emily: See you there, bitch.

You couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at your lips. For now, you could put everything aside—the unopened test, the missed calls, the terrifying what-ifs—and focus on something mindless.

You tossed your pillow aside, grabbed your purse, and headed out the door. Shopping with Emily wouldn’t fix your problems, but it might give you just enough strength to face them.

“Y’know, I’m surprised Jess isn’t here,” You murmured as you scanned the racks of dresses, running your fingers over the fabric, your thoughts far from the clothes in front of you.

Emily stood beside you, meticulously inspecting each hanger with the precision of someone on a mission.

"Don't get me wrong, I love Jess," Emily replied, her voice casual as she shifted a dress aside. "She’s my best friend, but sometimes… I don’t know. She doesn’t really give the best advice and doesn’t always get... certain things."

You turned to glance at Emily, raising an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Are you calling her dumb, Em?”

Emily laughed softly, shaking her head. "I’m not! Don’t twist my words like that."

But then her laughter faded, her gaze lingering on a dress she wasn’t really looking at. Her lips pursed, and she hesitated before adding, “It’s just… I’ve been having some problems with Mike.”

At the mention of Mike, you let out an audible sigh, unable to hide your disdain.

Emily shot you a sharp side-eye. "What was that sigh for?"

You shrugged, toying absentmindedly with a strand of your hair. “You know I don’t like him.”

"I’ll never understand why," Emily replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She pulled a dress from the rack but didn’t even look at it before putting it back. Her tone softened as she admitted, "But… there’s something else."

You frowned, turning your full attention to Emily. "What is it, Em?"

Emily hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with a price tag. “I haven’t slept with him yet,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the tension in her voice.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, your surprise evident. Emily noticed and immediately scoffed. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

"I’m not shocked," You said quickly, though your tone betrayed your curiosity. "It’s just… you two have been together for, like, a year."

Emily sighed, crossing her arms defensively. “Yeah, and? Relationships aren’t all about that, you know.”

“I didn’t say they were,” You replied, your voice gentler now. You leaned slightly against the rack, studying Emily’s expression. "But if it’s bothering you, why haven’t you told him?"

Emily hesitated, her shoulders slumping slightly. "It’s not that easy. Mike’s… Mike. He can be so pushy sometimes, and I just—ugh, I don’t know."

You tilted your head, your tone blunt but kind. “If he’s making you feel pressured, that’s not okay, Em. You don’t owe him anything just because you’ve been together a while.”

Emily glanced at you, her guarded expression softening. “It’s not just him. It’s me, too. I guess I feel… guilty? Like I should be ready by now, but I’m just… not.”

You reached out, placing a hand on Emily’s shoulder. "Then that’s his problem, not yours. If Mike really cares about you—and I mean really—he’ll wait. No questions asked."

Emily nodded slowly, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thanks, babe.”

"Anytime," you replied with a small smile. Then you added, unable to resist, “But just for the record, I still think you could do better.”

Emily rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” You quipped, a teasing grin on your face as you pulled another dress off the rack. For a moment, the air lightened between you.

But as your eyes wandered, something stopped you cold—the maternity section.

Your heart skipped a beat as your feet carried you there almost instinctively. You reached for a dress, a soft, pink summery thing with a flowy cut.

It was adorable and obviously meant for someone who was heavily pregnant. You stared at it, your mind spiraling. You could almost see yourself in it, your stomach round and heavy with life.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emily’s voice cut through the moment like a knife, startling you.

You jumped, the dress slipping from your hands. You shoved it hastily back onto the rack. “Nothing, Em,” you said, too quickly.

Emily raised a skeptical brow, her sharp eyes darting from you to the maternity section. A slow smirk tugged at her lips. “What, you pregnant or something?” she teased lightly.

You let out a forced laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “What the fuck? No.”

But Emily wasn’t buying it. Her playful expression gave way to something more calculating as she studied you closely. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Wait... are you?”

“No, Em,” you said, too fast again, your voice dropping to a shaky murmur. You hesitated, then added, “My period’s just late, that’s all.”

Emily’s eyes widened, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh my god,” she whispered, the teasing gone from her tone entirely.

“It’s nothing, Emily,” you snapped, your voice firm but not convincing. “I swear. Don’t make a big deal about it, okay?”

Emily nodded, her lips pursed like she wasn’t entirely convinced. Then, with a glance at you, she reached out and plucked the pink dress from the rack.

She held it up, studying it for a moment before saying, “If you are, you know you can’t keep it, right?”

You froze, your stomach dropping like a stone. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Emily shrugged, her tone casual, almost flippant. “Because we’d be terrible moms.”

You frowned, your chest tightening. “Why would I be a terrible mom?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

“Don’t take it personally, Hon,” Emily replied with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “It’s just… we all turn into our parents eventually, right? And I mean, as soon as Junior you hits puberty, Senior you becomes a bitter bitch. It’s just how it goes.”

Your jaw clenched as you looked away, your gaze landing on the dress again. Emily’s words were meant to be casual, maybe even a joke, but they stung.

You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. Somehow, your already bad day had just gotten worse.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring down at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands. Your eyes were fixed on the single, unbroken line in the tiny window.

Not pregnant.

You should’ve felt relief. You wanted to feel relief. But all that settled in your chest was a heavy, hollow ache. Emily’s words echoed in your mind like a cruel mantra: We’d be terrible moms.

A lump formed in your throat as your grip tightened on the plastic stick. No, you thought fiercely. I wouldn’t be like that. You'd try. You'd try so damn hard to make your baby happy, to protect them from everything. You'd do better. You could do better.

But none of that mattered now. You weren't pregnant.

Distantly, you heard the doorbell ring, followed by your mother’s sharp, impatient voice cutting through the quiet of the house. “Get the door!”

You exhaled shakily, breaking out of your thoughts. You tossed the test into the trash with more force than necessary, the hollow clink of plastic against metal strangely satisfying.

With a sigh, you got to your feet and headed for the door, leaving the hollow ache behind—or at least trying to.

You froze when you opened the door, your heart leaping into your throat as you stared at Josh’s face. His green eyes, wide and pleading, met yours, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Josh cleared his throat, looking a little sheepish as he murmured, “Can I come in?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded and stepped aside, letting him cross the threshold. He slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind them.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, before reaching out and thrusting a bouquet of pink peonies into your hands. “These are for you.”

You blinked, surprised by the gesture. The delicate flowers felt out of place in your clammy grip, and all you could manage was a quiet, “Thanks.” You set the bouquet on a nearby table, your movements awkward and uncertain.

Josh stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly as he asked, “Can we talk?”

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Just... let’s go to my room. My mom’s in one of her moods.”

Josh followed you down the hall, his footsteps slow and tentative. Once inside your room, he closed the door softly, his gaze roaming the familiar space.

The walls were decorated with photos of all of you together—laughing at the beach, posing at school events, arms slung around each other.

Your bed was piled high with stuffed animals, and posters of The Cranberries and ABBA lined the walls. It hadn’t changed since the last time he’d been here, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Josh took a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair as he perched on the edge of your bed. His knee bounced nervously, the movement betraying the calm he was trying to project. “So... I’m sure you’re wondering why I came here.”

You stood stiffly near your vanity, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Your gaze was guarded, your tone biting as you replied, “No, not really. I’m just hoping for an explanation—any explanation, really.”

Josh winced at your words but managed a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

He looked up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, self-deprecating smile, “I know I’ve been a really shitty boyfriend. And I’m so sorry for all the crappy things I’ve done. But... I don’t want to lose you, baby. I really don’t.”

You leaned against your vanity, your fingers gripping the edge as though it could steady you. Your voice softened slightly, but the edge of frustration still lingered. “But that’s not the truth, Josh.”

He looked away, guilt flickering across his face. Of course, you'd call him out. There was no way he’d get off that easily. “Yeah...” he murmured, his voice low. “That’s what I need to explain.”

Your silence was heavy, expectant.

Josh sighed, his hands rubbing over his jeans as if to release the tension coiling inside him. “I was hoping you’d just... I don’t know... kinda understand without me having to say it out loud.” He shook his head, a sad smile flickering briefly before fading. “But that’s not fair to you.”

He paused, his throat tightening as he tried to find the words. “I love you, baby. I don’t know how else to say it. I love you so much it scares the hell out of me sometimes."

Your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes. “How about showing it, Josh?” you said, your words trembling. “I’m not trying to push you away—I’m holding on for dear life—but I need you to need me back.”

The sight of you breaking made Josh’s heart twist painfully. He stood, his movements slow and deliberate, before wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his voice soft and pleading.

“Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry. I promise you—I do need you.” He pressed his lips to your hair, holding you like you might disappear.

You sobbed against his chest, your hands pushing weakly against him as you choked out, “Then why won’t you just tell me? Why do you need the medication? Where do you go when you disappear? Why won’t you let me all the way in?!”

Your words cut deeper than any knife, and Josh felt his resolve crumbling. He hated this—the way he was hurting you, the way his silence was tearing the two of you apart. He tightened his grip on you as though that alone could keep you two from unraveling completely.

“Baby…” He trailed off, his voice heavy with guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. How could he tell you?

How could he say the words he’d been terrified to utter? But lying—or saying nothing—would only hurt you more.

He took another shaky breath, his throat tightening as he finally said it. “Because I’m sick. Okay?”

You pulled back slightly, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean... sick?”

Josh’s hands tightened slightly on your waist as he closed his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I-I have schizophrenia. I was diagnosed when I was twelve.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and raw. He couldn’t bear to look at you, couldn’t face the possibility of seeing disgust—or worse, pity—in your eyes.

“What?” your voice was small, almost inaudible, as you stared up at him, your tears momentarily forgotten.

Josh finally forced himself to look at you, his green eyes wide with vulnerability. “I didn’t want you to know because... because I was scared. Scared of how you’d see me. Scared of losing you.”

His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I hear things that aren’t there. I see things. I have these thoughts I can’t control, and... I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”

Your heart sank as the weight of his confession settled over you. You reached up, cupping his face with trembling hands. “Josh,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re not crazy. You’re... you’re Josh.”

His furrowed his brows, and for a moment, he looked as though he couldn’t believe your words. “You don’t... you don’t think I’m broken?”

You shook your head firmly, your trembling hands still cradling his face. “You’re not broken, Josh. You’re human. And if you’re scared, let me be scared with you. I want to be here for you. But you have to let me.”

Josh’s throat tightened as he pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest like you were his lifeline. He buried his face in your hair, his voice barely a whisper. “You still love me,” he murmured, attempting to lighten the heavy moment.

You scoffed, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Of course, I still love you, you idiot.”

Josh let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft and relieved. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks.

Gently, he brushed away the tears still clinging to your skin with his thumbs. “I know, I know—I’m an idiot. Just... stop crying, okay? It’s killing me.”

You let out a thick chuckle, sniffing as you wiped at your face with the back of your hand. “Fine, but you owe me a whole box of chocolates for this.”

“Deal,” Josh said, his lips quirking into a small, crooked smile. His hands slipped to your waist, anchoring you as though he was scared to let go.

You stepped back slightly, giving him a sheepish look. “Wanna stay for a movie? Something light, maybe?”

Josh smirked, tilting his head as though considering your suggestion. “Only if it’s horror.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You call that light? Fine, but if I scream, you’re paying for my therapy.”

“Deal,” Josh said again, his voice warm and playful now.

“Alright,” you said, gesturing toward the bed. “Pick something while I go freshen up. And no weird indie stuff this time, I mean it.”

Josh raised his hands in mock surrender, a light grin tugging at his lips. “Scout’s honor. But no rom-coms either—I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

As you disappeared into the bathroom, Josh sat on the edge of your bed, trying to collect his thoughts. But something caught his eye, and his heart skipped a beat.

A small object was sticking out of the trash can beside your desk. His hand reached out almost instinctively, and his fingers closed around a small white stick—a pregnancy test.

Josh’s pulse quickened as he stared at it, feeling a knot form in his stomach. A small part of him prayed it would be negative, that the whole situation would be a misunderstanding, something you two could laugh off later.

The air around him suddenly felt thick, suffocating. A tidal wave of emotions crashed over him: happiness, fear, panic, and confusion.

He sat there, frozen for a moment, staring at the test in his hand as if it were some sort of cruel joke. Was he really about to become a father? At nineteen? Was he ready for this?

The sound of your voice broke through his haze, pulling him back to reality. “Josh?”

He looked up, his face pale, still holding the test between his fingers. The words felt heavy on his tongue, but they spilled out anyway.

“You’re… pregnant,” he said quietly, his gaze still locked on you as if the reality of it hadn’t fully hit him yet.

Your eyes flicked down to the test in his hand, and you let out a deep, small sigh. “Josh, it’s one line. That means negative,” you said, walking closer to him.

Josh’s heart thudded in his chest, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He glanced down at the test again, now noticing how the faintest second line appeared to be nothing more than a shadow.

Josh swallowed hard, the embarrassment still fresh as he asked again, “It’s negative?”

You nodded softly, your shoulders slumping with a mixture of relief and lingering unease. “Yeah, it’s negative,” you murmured before sitting down beside him, your hands clasped tightly in her lap. “My period was late, and I just… I was so scared, Josh. I didn’t know what to do.”

He nodded slowly, letting out a breath as he placed the test back in the trashcan. “Well… it’s a good thing it’s negative, right?” His voice was light, almost hesitant, as if trying to gauge how you felt.

You didn’t respond right away. Your gaze was distant, fixed on the trashcan. “I told Emily,” you said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness.

Josh frowned, his concern deepening. “What did she say?” he asked gently, noticing how your mood had darkened, your shoulders tightening.

Your lips trembled as you tried to keep your composure. “She said… she said I shouldn’t keep it if I was pregnant. That I’d make a terrible mom,” you said, your voice breaking slightly as you blinked back tears.

Josh’s eyes widened in disbelief, a flash of anger rising in his chest. “Why the hell would she say that?”

He shook his head, his expression softening as he turned towards you. “That’s such a shitty thing to say. Baby, you’d be an awesome mom someday.”

You shook your head, your pout deepening as you murmured, “She said we all turn out like our parents. And if I had a baby, I’d just end up like my mom… a bitter bitch.” Your voice cracked slightly, and you leaned your head against his shoulder for support.

Josh let out a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer so you were nestled against his chest. “That’s total bullshit. You're not a bitch, and you could never be one either. You have the biggest heart I know, and— and any kid would be lucky to have you as their mom.” he said firmly, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

You glanced up at him, your wide eyes shining with both doubt and hope. “Do you… do you want babies?” you asked softly, your voice laced with hesitation.

Josh blinked, the question catching him off guard. He leaned back slightly, thinking it over. “I… yeah, I think I do,” he admitted after a moment, his tone gentle but honest.

“It’s scary to think about, you know? But yeah… I’d really like that someday.” He smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. You bit your lip before asking hesitantly, “With me?”

Josh let out a soft laugh, cupping your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “Of course with you, silly. Who else would I want that with? You’re the only person I can imagine having a family with.”

A small, genuine smile broke across your face, warmth spreading through your chest. You tilted your head up slowly, your heart pounding as you closed the distance between the two of you.

Your lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss, the kind that made you feel like the world had melted away.

When you finally pulled apart, Josh rested his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face. “See? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You let out a small, watery laugh, your fingers brushing away a stray tear. “You’re really good at this pep talk thing, you know, Mr Washington?”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be, Mrs Washington,” he teased with a grin, pulling you closer.

For the first time in a few months, you felt lighter, as though the storm clouds in your mind had started to part.

You didn’t know what the future held, but as long as Josh was by your side, you knew you could face anything.

[maiackmn]

Reconnecting

pairing | josh washington x fem!reader

word count | 3.9k words

summary | after the prank, it tore you and Josh apart, now a year later Josh wants to be with you again

tags | 18+ (MDNI), smut, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (remember kids: wrap it before you tap it), hurt/comfort, confessions, no description of reader, sam&reader

a/n | so this takes place right after Josh fakes his death with Ash and Chris. again this is an extraction from my actual fanfic on A03, unfortunately it is Josh x OC, but if you guys are interested it's called Echoes Of Us

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

MASTERLIST

You took a deep breath as you stepped into your designated guest room, closing the door softly behind you.

It was so strange, normally you'd sleep in Josh's room, and before that Beth always wanted you to sleep in her room. The weight of the evening clung to you like the chill in the air.

Fumbling for the light switch, you flicked it on, only to be met with darkness. "Great," you muttered under your breath, glancing around the shadowy room. The moonlight filtering through the edges of the thick curtains offered little help.

Sighing, you crossed the room and pulled them open, letting a silvery glow spill across the space.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let you navigate to the bedside table. You rummaged through the drawer until your fingers brushed against cold metal—a lighter.

Striking it, you carefully lit the scattered candles, the warm flicker of flames chasing away the darkness and casting long shadows on the wooden walls.

The soft glow made the room feel marginally less oppressive, though the unease from the seance still lingered like a weight on your chest.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, your hands resting on your lap as you stared at the flickering candlelight. You were grateful Josh had given you space to collect yourself.

After what had just happened—between the spirit board and your *moment*—you needed to get your thoughts in order before seeing him again.

Alright, you thought firmly. Josh had told you it was a mistake, that he still wanted you.

He still loved you.

You exhaled slowly, trying to push away the nagging doubts creeping into her mind. And did you love him? That wasn’t even a question—of course, you did. You always had.

Maybe it was a good thing that Josh had planned this weekend, even if parts of it had already gone off the rails.

Maybe it was a chance for things to start healing, for him to finally find some closure and for you to help him. But the events of the evening... the séance, the cryptic messages... they gnawed at the edges of your mind.

You tried to shake it off, blaming Chris. It had to be one of his tasteless jokes, right? That was the only explanation. But still, something about it had felt... wrong. The way the planchette moved, how Josh had acted—it had been so strange. You couldn’t just ignore it.

Your thoughts, as always, circled back to Josh. Your moment together earlier replayed in your mind, and while you felt reassured by his words, the doubts still lingered.

You needed a second opinion, someone who could help you untangle the mess of emotions and unanswered questions swirling inside your head. And there was no one better for that than Sam.

With a determined sigh, you slipped out of your room and headed toward the bathroom nearest to Sam's. You knocked lightly on the door. "Sammy?" you called.

There was no response.

You rolled your eyes, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Of course, you thought. Sam probably had her headphones in again. Without waiting for an answer, you pushed the door open and peeked inside.

Sure enough, there Sam was, lounging in the tub surrounded by a sea of bubbles, her head tilted back against the rim, earphones firmly in place.

Suppressing a laugh, you stepped inside and quietly approached the tub, your movements deliberate to avoid startling your friend too much. When you reached the edge of the tub, you snapped your fingers right in front of Sam's face.

Sam’s eyes shot open in panic, her hand splashing water as she jolted upright. When she saw you standing there, grinning, she let out a groan and pulled her earphones out. “Can’t a girl get some privacy around here?”

“Privacy is overrated, Sammy,” you teased, perching yourself on the edge of the tub. Your voice softened as you added, “Besides, I really need your help.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, her annoyance melting into curiosity as she leaned back into the bubbles. “This sounds serious. What’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you searched for the right words. Finally, you sighed, your voice low. “It’s... Josh. Everything tonight has just been so weird, and I can’t get a handle on how I’m supposed to feel about it all.”

Sam’s expression softened as she tilted her head in concern. “Weird how?”

“Just... him,” you admitted, your voice growing softer. “We kind of had a moment earlier. And you know how Josh is—he keeps cutting me off when we get close. I want us to be together again, but I’m scared.” your hands fidgeted in your lap as you stared at the floor.

Sam straightened in the tub, droplets sliding off her arms as she leaned forward. “Scared that he’ll push you away again?”

“Kind of,” you murmured. “It’s just… there’s so much history between us. And I don’t know if he’s ready to really deal with everything. Especially not here, of all places, with all these memories hanging over us. It feels like he’s holding on to so much, and I don’t know if there’s room for me in all of that anymore.”

Sam studied you carefully, her gaze steady and full of understanding. After a moment, she reached out to touch your arm, her voice calm and reassuring.

“Honey, you’ve been there for him through everything—more than anyone else. If anyone can help him face this, it’s you. But you’ve got to remember, it’s not all on you to make him okay.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes glistening as you processed Sam’s words. “I know. And I’m not trying to fix him. I just... I want him to feel better. To be happy again.”

Sam’s expression softened, her voice gentle but firm. “I get it, babe. But we’re all supposed to be keeping an eye on him—not just you. It’s not all on your shoulders.”

“I know that,” you sighed, your gaze dropping as you fidgeted with the hem of your sweater. “It’s just... there’s this part of me that feels like I should take it all on. That maybe if I could just carry it for him, then he wouldn’t have to. It sounds stupid, I know.”

Sam raised a brow, her tone lightening. “And when has something sounding stupid ever stopped you before?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Fair. But seriously... I just want to take all his pain away. Put it on me, instead.” your voice lowered slightly, your sadness plain as you looked back at Sam.

Sam reached out, placing her damp hand over yours and giving it a firm squeeze. “Oh, sweetie. That’s not how this works. You can’t just take it all away. But what you can do is be there for him. And maybe... I don’t know... really talk to him. Like, lay it all out.”

You smiled faintly, your heart feeling a little less heavy. “Thanks, Sammy. You’re a really good friend, you know that?”

Sam’s smile faltered for just a moment, but she quickly masked it with a laugh, looking away briefly before turning back.

A good friend wouldn’t secretly feel the way she did about her friend’s boyfriend.

Pushing the thought aside, she mustered her most genuine smile. “Anytime. Now, unless you want to help me wash my hair, I’m kicking you out.”

You stood, brushing off your jeans with mock dignity. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to your royal bubble bath, your highness.”

“Damn right, servant,” Sam teased, sinking back into the water with a grin.

As you left the bathroom, you felt a little more grounded. Sam was right—you weren't alone in this, and neither was Josh. Whatever happened, you'd figure it out. Together.

You stepped out of the shower, tightening the towel around you as the steam followed you back into your room. The soft glow of the candlelight illuminated the space, casting flickering shadows across the walls. At least the candles had warmed the room enough that you didn’t need to bundle up.

You let out a contented sigh and slipped into one of your favorite silk nightgowns, the delicate fabric cool against your skin. You crossed to the mirror and sat down, brushing through your damp hair with slow, rhythmic strokes.

Around your neck hung a golden chain, the intricate sapphire promise ring glinting in the candlelight—a constant reminder of everything you and Josh had been through.

As you finished brushing your hair, you picked up your lip gloss, applying a light layer, then reached for your eyelash curler.

You barely had time to finish when you heard the soft creak of the door opening behind you. Your heart jumped in your chest as you set down the curler and glanced at your reflection.

Taking a steadying breath, you turned to see Josh stepping into the room.

He’d changed into fresh clothes, but his disheveled hair and the faint sheen of sweat on his brow gave him away. He was panting slightly, as though he’d been in a hurry—or a fight with himself.

“Hey,” you murmured softly, your voice cutting through the tense quiet. “You alright?”

Josh hesitated for a moment, then flashed you his signature cheeky smile, though the faint tension in his eyes betrayed him. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little too casual. “Just had to take care of something.”

You arched a brow, folding your arms across your chest. “Uh-huh. And what’s this something?”

Josh didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crossed the room and dropped onto the edge of your bed with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. Your gaze softened, and you stood, moving toward him.

“Josh,” you said gently, sitting beside him. “What’s really going on?”

He glanced at you, his bravado slipping as his hand reached for the chain around your neck, his thumb brushing against the sapphire promise ring. “Just... thinking about a lot of things,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “About us. About everything.”

You leaned into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder, your own voice soft and laced with honesty. “Me too.”

Josh’s green eyes lingered on the ring. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was heavy with unspoken feelings. “I thought... I thought you took it off,” he said, almost in disbelief.

“Never,” you murmured, your voice firm but tender.

Your thoughts flickered back to your conversation with Sam, and you took a steadying breath. You stayed leaning against him but decided to ask the question you'd been too scared to voice before. “Josh... how do you feel about me?”

There was a pause. Josh shifted slightly, the tension rolling off him in waves. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

You sighed, sitting up to face him fully, your eyes locking onto his with a dry, knowing look. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Josh avoided your gaze, his hands fidgeting in his lap. He finally murmured, almost awkwardly, “Well, what do you want me to say? That I’ve been head over heels for you since I was eleven and Beth brought you home for a sleepover?”

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips. “How could I forget? You spent the whole night perving at me.”

Josh scoffed, leaning back against the bed and pulling you down with him. “I wouldn’t call it perving. Or... staring, for that matter.”

You smirked, your voice light with teasing. “Oh? Then what would you call it?”

Josh made a thoughtful face, his lips twitching as he tried not to grin. “More like... admiring,” he said with mock seriousness.

“Nice save,” you hummed, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, your smile warm and genuine.

Josh nodded solemnly. “Thank you. I try.”

For a moment, the banter gave way to comfortable silence, your shared laughter fading into quiet breaths. You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “I’m glad you told me,” you whispered.

Josh’s grin softened into something more vulnerable, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion. “I meant it, baby. Every word,” he murmured. His green eyes searched yours, raw and earnest. “I want us to be together again. I... I can’t live without you.”

You didn’t need words to reply. Your actions spoke for you as you leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. The warmth of your lips against his skin sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

When he opened them again, his gaze was full of longing. “I missed you so goddamn much,” he murmured, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Before you could respond, Josh leaned toward you, closing the distance between you. His lips brushed yours in a soft, tentative kiss, the kind that carried months of unspoken feelings and bottled-up desire.

To Josh, it felt like eternal relief—like finding water in a desert after wandering aimlessly for far too long.

Yours hands instinctively reached up, one resting on his shoulder while the other lightly traced his jawline.

Josh’s hand moved to cup your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was steady, deliberate, and full of love.

In that moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. It was just the two of you, your broken pieces fitting together again as if they had never been apart.

For the first time in a long time, Josh felt like he wasn’t drowning in the weight of his isolation and madness. He felt... whole.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the quiet room. You opened your eyes, your gaze meeting Josh’s. “I missed you too,” you said softly, your voice steady but full of meaning.

Josh smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile that made your heart ache. “Good,” he said with a quiet chuckle, brushing your hair behind her ear. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go again.”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned in once more, capturing his lips in another kiss, this time with more fervor as you straddled his lap, Josh's hands instantly moved to your hips.

Josh groaned into the kiss, his hands tightening on your hips as you settled onto him. The heat of your body seeped through the thin fabric of your nightgown, igniting a fire within him that had smoldered for far too long.

Breaking the kiss, Josh looked up at you with lust-darkened eyes, his breathing ragged. "God, I've wanted this," he rasped, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. "Wanted you."

Your cheeks flushed, your pupils dilated with desire. You rocked your hips gently, feeling Josh's hardness beneath you. "Then take me," you whispered, your voice husky with need. "Make me forget everything else."

Your words were a siren's call, urging Josh to claim you, to lose himself in the pleasure only you could provide. With a low growl, he turned, flipping you effortlessly with him. He pinned you against the bed, his mouth devouring yours as his hands roamed your curves.

"I will," he promised against your lips, his voice thick with arousal. "I'll make you forget your own name if that's what it takes."

Josh's hands slid under your nightgown, caressing the warm skin of your stomach before dipping lower to bunch your skirts. He lifted them up your thighs, his fingers tracing the edges of your panties before slipping beneath the fabric to stroke your slick folds.

You moaned into the kiss, your nails digging into Josh's shoulders as you ground against his touch. "Please," you whimpered, your hips circling desperately.

Josh swallowed your whimper with another searing kiss, his fingers delving deeper into your heat. Your wetness coated his digits, making them glide easily over your sensitive clit.

He circled the swollen nub, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure through you.

"Tell me what you need, baby," Josh breathed against your lips, his thumb continuing its maddening dance on your clit while his middle finger pushed inside you, curling to stroke that sweet spot deep within. "I'm gonna give it to you."

Your head thrashed from side to side, your hips bucking wildly against Josh's hand. "Don't stop," you gasped, your walls clenching around his invading finger. "Fuck, Josh, please..."

Your pleas fell on deaf ears as Josh continued his relentless assault on your senses. He added a second finger, scissoring them inside you as he pumped them in and out, his thumb still mercilessly stimulating your clit.

"You're so fucking tight," Josh grunted, his cock straining against his zipper. "I can feel you milking my fingers."

He curled his fingers just right, hitting that magic spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as you rode his hand with abandon.

"Yes, yes, oh fuck!" you cried out, your orgasm cresting like a tidal wave. Your inner muscles spasmed around Josh's fingers, drawing them even deeper as you came beneath him.

Josh felt your climax wash over you like a tsunami, your cunt clamping down on his fingers like a vice. He worked you through the aftershocks, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back against the mattress, panting and dazed.

With a final, tender kiss to your forehead, Josh withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste your wetness. "Delicious," he murmured, his green eyes never leaving your flushed face.

He quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling it down just enough to reveal his hard, throbbing cock.

Josh crawled over you, propping himself up on his elbows as he aligned his member with your entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked, his voice rough with need.

You nodded, your hands reaching for him, eager to pull him close. "Please, Josh," you begged, your body arching towards his.

With a low, primal groan, Josh thrust into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke. Both of you gasped at the sensation, Josh's thickness stretching you impossibly wide as he filled you completely.

Josh began to move, setting a relentless pace as he drove into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, punctuated by your panting and Josh's guttural moans.

You met every thrust with equal fervor, your hips rising to meet Josh's as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your nails dug into his back, piercing his skin through his shirt as you urged him on.

"So good," you whimpered, your head tossing from side to side. "Fuck, Josh, you feel amazing! I missed you so much."

Josh's grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. The way you took him, so eagerly, so perfectly, sent waves of ecstasy crashing through his veins.

"I missed you too," he gritted out between clenched teeth, his breath hot against your neck. "Every damn day without you felt like forever."

He reached between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sent you careening towards another peak, your inner walls fluttering around Josh's cock.

"That's it, baby," he coaxed, his voice a low rasp. "Come for me again. Let go and scream my name."

Your world narrowed to the incredible feeling of Josh's cock driving into you, stroking that secret spot inside you that made you see stars. His fingers on your clit were the final trigger, sending you hurtling over the edge once more.

"Josh!" you gasped, your voice cracking as your orgasm ripped through you. Your pussy clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

Through the haze of your pleasure, you felt Josh's movements become erratic, his thrusts growing shorter and more urgent. With a final, deep plunge, he buried himself inside you and stilled, his hot seed spurting into your welcoming depths.

"Oh god!" Josh groaned, his body shuddering above yours as he emptied himself into you.

Josh collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he struggled to catch his breath. Your hearts raced in tandem, pounding out a frantic rhythm that seemed to fill the entire room.

After a long moment, Josh lifted his head, his eyes searching your face with a mix of tenderness and awe. "That was... incredible," he whispered, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your forehead. "Being with you again... it feels like coming home."

Josh pressed a soft kiss to your lips, savoring the taste of you, "I know I messed up, baby," he whispered, his voice full of quiet desperation. "But I promise, I won't let anything tear us apart again."

You smiled up at him in a daze, your heart swelling with relief. His words were everything you wanted to hear. As your eyes fluttered tiredly, a small sigh escaped your lips. "I love you," you murmured, your voice barely audible as sleep overtook you.

Josh watched intently as your breathing evened out, the soft rise and fall of your chest the only sound in the room. Your face softened in sleep, a peaceful expression settling over your features.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you too."

For a moment, he lingered, staring down at you, his heart aching with the weight of everything between the two of you. As much as he wanted to stay there, holding you, forgetting the world outside, he knew he couldn’t.

Not yet.

He stood slowly, his movements deliberate as he fixed his clothing, then blew out the candles, the room sinking into darkness. The soft moonlight streaming through the window cast long shadows across the floor.

With one last glance at you, Josh made his way toward the door, the tightness in his chest almost unbearable.

Before closing it behind him, he locked the door from the outside, his hand lingering on the knob for a moment longer than necessary.

You didn’t deserve this.

His heart twisted as he walked away, leaving the room behind. He didn’t want you involved. But the plan was already in motion, and he couldn’t back out now.

[maiackmn]

Jealous Josh Washington smut? Someone flirting with Reader at a party and she didn't notice but Josh did.

J (Josh Washington x Fem!Reader)

contains: swearing, smut (obvi), jealous!josh (ugh😩), college party (since bby dropped out think of it taking place pre-game), semi-public (does the bathroom in a frat house count as public?), hickies

word count: 1,702

notes: this is short as fuck and not good but god, i hope you like this. i’m slowly getting burnt out when it comes to smut. ugh he’s so delicious looking tho 😭.

Josh Washington leaned against the counter, trying his best to nod along to whatever Chris was rambling on about. His eyes, however, kept straying over the blond's shoulder, across the dimly lit kitchen and into the crowded living room. He'd noticed her sitting on one of the couches, looking effortlessly radiant in her favorite oversized sweater, her laughter carrying above the noise of the party. She was engaged in conversation with some guy he vaguely recognized from their psych class—probably one of those guys who made it a point to act all introspective and mysterious. The guy was leaning in a little too close, grinning a little too wide.

Chris's voice faded into the background as Josh's gaze narrowed. He couldn't hear their conversation, but he could see the way the guy's eyes drifted, lingering a bit too long on her legs, the curve of her smile. She seemed oblivious, nodding along with that open warmth she had, completely unaware that this guy was clearly hitting on her.

"Josh, man, you listening?" Chris tapped his shoulder.

"Huh?" He snapped back to the kitchen, plastering on an apologetic smile. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. I gotta... I'll catch you later."

Leaving mid-sentence, Josh wove his way through the crowded room, his jaw tense. He made sure his approach was unhurried, his expression calm, though a flicker of jealousy simmered beneath the surface. As he reached the couch, he arrived just in time to hear the guy murmur, "You've got such a great laugh, Y/n. And I have to say... you really know how to pull off that sweater."

The words made his chest tighten, his protective instincts flaring. Clearing his throat, he finally spoke up, making his presence known.

"Everything alright here?" His voice was casual, but his gaze was intense as he looked at the guy, who straightened up immediately, a sheepish look crossing his face.

"Oh, hey, Josh! We were just, uh... talking psych," the guy stammered, trying to play it off.

"Right. Psych." He kept his tone light, though there was a subtle edge to it. He looked down at her, his hand coming to rest possessively on the back of the couch near her shoulder. "Mind if I join?"

She glanced up at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she smiled. "Of course not, babe. We were just talking about the last lecture. Guess I missed a lot more than I thought."

The guy nodded, laughing awkwardly, clearly realizing he'd overstayed his welcome. "Yeah, well, I should, uh... probably go grab a drink or something. See you in class, Y/n."

As soon as he'd walked away, she turned back to Josh, an amused sparkle in her eyes. "Did you just... scare him off?"

He shrugged, sliding into the seat beside her. "Maybe. He was getting a little too close for my liking."

She chuckled, reaching over to pat his knee. "Babe, he was probably just being nice."

"Trust me," Josh muttered, rolling his eyes, "he wasn't just being nice."

She laughed again, more delighted than apologetic, clearly enjoying the situation. "You're not jealous, are you?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish but not backing down. "I mean... can you blame me? Have you seen yourself?"

She raised a brow, a playful smirk curving her lips. "So you were watching me, huh?"

Josh leaned in closer, his gaze locked on hers. "Maybe. But it's hard not to when I've got the hottest girlfriend in the world." His voice softened, and there was an intensity in his eyes that made her heart race. "Can you blame a guy for wanting to make that known?"

Her cheeks flushed, her smirk softening into a smile. She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. "You know, it's kind of hot seeing you all protective like this," she teased, tilting her head.

He raised an eyebrow, a grin playing on his lips. "Oh, so you dig the jealous boyfriend act, huh?"

She shrugged, leaning into him. "Maybe. As long as it doesn't happen every time I talk to a guy."

Josh chuckled, slipping an arm around her waist. "Guess I'll just have to make sure they all know you're taken, then."

With a playful roll of her eyes, she leaned up to press a quick, warm kiss to his cheek. "Fine by me," she murmured, her voice just for him.

Josh smirked, glancing briefly down the vacant hall; she caught on quick, standing and pulling him into the nearest bathroom. It was quite clean, for a frat house.

The moment the door locked behind them, their hands were on one another. Their lips connected in a feverish kiss, one that made her head spin and flooded her senses with nothing but him.

Josh quickly lifted her by her waist, setting her down on the counter before sliding his hands underneath the cream colored sweater-dress.

Despite being by the fire mere moments ago, his touch ignited her skin and warmed her soul—hands roaming everywhere they possibly could as her fingers tangled in his hair.

Even though she genuinely hadn't been aware that Richard was flirting with her, she was beyond ecstatic that he was—because she got this Josh, the version of her boyfriend that rarely makes an appearance. He was used to random people hitting on her, laughing at her comment sections most days, but he wasn't used to people trying their luck in person.

His lips trailed down her jaw, then to her neck—leaving a trail of marks in his wake. She arched into him, allowing him more access, and a breathy moan escaped her lips. "J..."

Josh hummed against her neck, slowly kissing upwards and rediscovering her lips; their tongues fought for control, but she allowed him to win, relishing in the moment.

A groan was pulled from his throat as she gently bit down on his tongue, pulling back with a smirk. He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smirk of his own, before lifting her dress up to her hips; he crouched down, steely blue eyes dark as they found her gaze. She simply nodded, allowing him to pull her underwear down her legs and begin his delicious assault on her clit.

She quickly moaned, throwing her head back against the mirror as his tongue expertly worked her center. A whimper escaped when he'd slipped in two fingers, instantly finding the spot that made her see stars.

It always amazed her how skilled he was with his tongue, and how well he'd memorized her body.

He muttered something, but she couldn't hear over the pounding in her ears. She was already close, they both knew that.

"Come on, baby."

The dam broke, her orgasm crashing down upon her like a rogue wave. She hadn't even noticed him stand to his feet, not until his lips found hers and the taste of herself further dizzied her mind.

She groaned in satisfaction, blindly working his belt without disconnecting their lips. He chuckled against her, removing his pants and boxers swiftly. "You sure?"

"Mhm." She nodded, her lips moving to mark his neck the way she knew he'd marked hers.

He groaned, running himself through her center a couple times before sinking in.

The bathroom was full of breathy moans and whimpers, whispered praises and reassurances that their souls belonged to each other.

"I love you, J." She whispered in his ear, a moan following after as his teeth sunk into her neck once again. "So much."

"I love you too, babe." He said against her neck, his left hand resting against the skin as he tried to focus on two things at once: thrusting and leaving a 'J' marked into her skin.

It was as if the golden necklace with his name, matching his bracelet with hers, wasn't a strong enough sign that she was taken.

She whimpered, resting her head on his shoulder. "J—"

"I know." He nodded, attaching their kiss-swollen lips once again. "Let go."

It wasn't long until euphoria grasped her again, Josh swallowing her moan as he worked her through her high. His was approaching rapidly, his thrusts growing sloppier and his grip tightening slightly.

She bit down on his shoulder, and that was it. His hips stuttered, and a low groan was muffled into her neck.

...

"Well, looks like you won't have to worry about anyone hitting on me for a few days," she chuckled, her gaze meeting Josh's in the mirror as they both straightened up. She reached up to touch the mark on her neck, which was still dark and evident. "I've been branded."

He let out a low laugh, his arms sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. He rested his head lightly on her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. "That, you have," he said with a grin. "C'mon, let's finish cleaning up and then head home."

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest as she leaned back into his embrace. "Please," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "I'm exhausted."

Josh raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with mischief. "Huh, I wonder why?"

She chuckled, a playful glint in her gaze as she rolled her eyes at him. She gently pushed his shoulder, though the action was more affectionate than serious. "Shut up," she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

"Never," he replied, his voice full of teasing defiance as he tightened his arms around her for a moment before letting go to finish cleaning up. He winked at her as he grabbed the towel, clearly enjoying the playful banter between them.

She watched him, her eyes softening as she took in the easygoing energy between them.

"You know," she said, voice lighter now, "I don't think I've ever been so glad to be branded." She paused, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Maybe next time, you could leave a little less evidence."

Josh chuckled, tossing the towel into the laundry basket and stepping closer to her once again. "Next time?" He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Not gonna happen, Princess."

She laughed, her heart beating a little faster. "We'll see."

[maiackmn]

any thoughts on Connor being protective and possessive (and during sex too)?? PLS IM A SUCKER FOR YOUR CONNOR CONTENT IT’S JUST SO GOOD!! <3

PROTEC AND ATTAC CONNOR YYEAAAAH

- quietly protecting of you, no need to cause a scene if he's potentially stronger and more knowledgeable than whoever or what ever is a threat to you

- holds your hand everytime you leave the house together, hand on your knee or thigh in the car, hand on your back or hip in public

- Someone flirting with you?... uh.. no.

- A guy purposely ignoring the fact you have a 6'1 guy next to you holding your hip? he's asking for you number? ...no chance Connor keeps his cool completely.

"Yeah! C'mon hon let me get you're number you're cute as hell and funny!"

"N-no- sorry i'm in a relationship.."

as you snug close to Connor who has a burning stare at this buffoon.

"Oh geez.. that guy? c'mon he looks so prim n proper compared to you, babe.. lemme try?"

"N-"

"She said no politely...maybe you should take her no and leave."

"Buzz off man, you won't do shit- c'mon pretty girl-"

Connor who's LED runs RED as he steps forward

"She is polite.. i am not. *I* am now asking you to leave am i clear?"

"...Ugh whatever, not worth my time anyways."

LORT i want connor bad

[maiackmn]

I'll Take You to Heaven

જ⁀➴ Childhood Best Friends : Day 7

feat. Josh Washington ᯓ★ A game of seven minutes in heaven has you and your best friend revealing your feelings for each other...and then some.

warnings! : NSFW 18+, takes place during prologue, dual virgins, dry humping, fingering, handjob, getting caught (kind of)

ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Ugh, c’mon, it’ll be fun!” Jess tugs at your arm, annoyed at your resistance to her suggestion—a game of seven minutes in heaven.

“There is no way in hell I’m agreeing to that,” you say. Tensions were already high in your friend group, and you didn’t want any fights happening while all of you were stuck in the Washington’s cabin for a weekend, stuck in the middle of the snowy mountains. Emily was pissed because Hannah had feelings for Mike, Chris and Ashley had feelings for each other and refused to tell the other, and you didn’t want to even think about what Jess was doing with getting close to Mike. You didn’t want to be around to witness the inevitable chaos this game would bring.

But really, you couldn’t be one to talk. You, Chris, and Josh had been inseparable since you were kids, and throughout your time of being friends with Josh you had slowly developed a crush on him. You knew you could never tell him, for fear of ruining your friendship. You valued him too much to risk that.

“You’re so booooring.” Jess rolls her eyes at you, before whispering into your ear.

“Shut up!” You yank your arm out of her grasp, heat rising to your face. “What the fuck do you know about that? That’s not why!”

Her eyes light up. “So it is true!” A smirk rises to her face, but before she can say anything else, a hand falls against your shoulder.

“Ooh, what’re we whispering about over here? Keeping secrets from dear old Joshie, are ya?”

Mortified that Josh almost heard you guys, you almost want to hug Jess for speaking first as you can’t find anything to say.

“Hey Josh. You’ll play, right?”

He grins. “You know I’m down for anything.”

“Well,” Jess turns back to you, “you need to convince her to join us. Such a party pooper.”

Josh turns to you and throws his arm around your shoulders, forcing you to lean into his side. “Aw, c’mon honey, you can’t leave me alone with these idiots.”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, knowing you didn’t have it in you to deny Josh. “Let’s play this stupid game.”

Jess squeals as she grabs your arm, leading you (and Josh, who’s hand hasn’t left you) into the living room, where everyone is seated on the large carpet.

“Look who I’ve found!” Jess says in a sing-songy voice. Cheers ring out and the group opens up some space on the floor for the three of you to sit. You and Jess take a seat between Ashley and Matt, while Josh sits next to Chris, almost directly across from you.

“You’re first.” Emily says, shoving the empty glass bottle in your direction. “Since you were the last one to show.”

You didn’t have the strength in you to protest, hoping that this game will be over quickly and hopefully no fights break out. You just wanted one quiet night without any of your friends arguing with each other.

As you spin the bottle, you just pray it lands on someone who you knew you could actually deal with being alone for seven minutes, like Beth or Sam.

But as long as it didn’t land on Josh, you were okay with it.

The bottle slowly comes to a stop, and you see the neck of it facing opposite of you.

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes slowly move up to see the person the bottle points towards, and you’re met with Josh’s green eyes staring right into you.

Just your fucking luck.

Jess giggles from beside you as she drags you to stand up. Josh slowly gets up across from you, strangely quiet as Chris seems to nudge him slightly.

As Josh steps his way around the group, Jess grabs you both and pulls you away. “Have fun in there, lovebirds!”

“Yeah, don’t forget to wear protection, man!” Mike calls out from behind you. You stick up your middle finger behind you and you and Josh enter the designated space for this game, a fairly spacious storage closet with only the moon providing you two with any sort of light.

As the door locks you plop down onto the floor, your head falling into your hands. You hear Josh take a seat next to you, a hand coming onto your shoulder as he rubs circles into it with his thumb.

“What’s got you down, honey? Thought we were supposed to have fun tonight.”

“It’s nothing.” You sigh, turning to your friend. “Really, I’m okay.” You wince with how fake it sounds as it leaves your lips. You hated lying to Josh, but how the hell were you supposed to tell him you’ve been in love with him for years.

“Really?” Josh raises an eyebrow. “’Cause you’ve barely spoken to me all day.”

You throw your head back, your actions of trying to make sure Josh doesn’t find out about your crush on him finally catching up to you.

“What is it then?”

His voice is firm, and you know by that tone there’s no way you can avoid the topic now.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you mutter.

“Oh yeah? Try me. We’ve known each other for years, I’m sure I’ve heard it all.”

“You haven’t heard that I’ve been in love with you since the sixth grade.”

He lets out a laugh, and your heart drops to your stomach. “Sixth grade? That’s when I had pimples and shit!”

You can’t help but laugh along with him, giving him a punch in his shoulder. “Shut up. I didn’t say I had good taste, did I?”

“Even if you didn't, it sure as hell works out for me, considering I’ve liked you even longer than that.”

You grow silent at his words, taking in what he said. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not.” He narrows his eyes. “Unless you’re fucking with me?”

“Why would I be fucking with you?” Josh stays silent and you roll your eyes. “Don’t piss me off, dude.” You go to push against him to get more space but Josh grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers with his own. Your heart starts beating rapidly in your chest feeling his warm palm against your own.

“Please don’t call me dude before I’m about to kiss you.”

You gasp as Josh leans in and captures your lips, closing your eyes and indulging in the sensation. The kiss feels clumsy, his lips clashing against your own in a way that exposes the lack of experience, but it's made up for with passion. Josh leans into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you allow yourself to fall into his embrace. Your hands come up to either side of his head, one moving to run itself through his hair as he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away just as you do to get some air. You both pant heavily, staring at each other, and a bead of saliva that connects you two breaks.

A grin breaks out across Josh’s face, and a shy smile finds its way onto yours. He rests his forehead against your own, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that for,” he murmurs.

“Trust me,” you say, “I know.”

“Four minutes!” You hear Jess from outside faintly, and you jump slightly in Josh’s hold. “There better be some action going on in there!”

“Guess we better give the people what they want.”

“Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

Your lips find his again in an instant, and this time this kiss is more desperate—more passionate. Josh’s hands run up and down your body and you moan into him, your back arching as your breasts squish themselves against his chest. You’re sitting in his lap now from how close you two are, and you start to move your hips against Josh. Josh groans into your mouth, and you take that as an opportunity to shove your tongue in there. Your tongues clash as you sloppily make out, drool escaping your lips as you clumsily figure out the best way to do it.

Josh ruts his hips up into you, keeping you still with his hands around your waist. His cock hardens against you, and the friction of his jeans rubbing into your clothed slit has you moaning into the kiss. His hands tug at your hair, and you already know that it’s going to be hard explaining the mess of it when your time is up.

You break away from the kiss as a particular loud moan leaves your lips, inside choosing to bite into Josh’s shoulder as a way to conceal your noises.

“Wait,” you say, before you and Josh go any farther. He looks up at you expectantly. “I haven’t done anything like this before,” you admit, nervous about your lack of experience.

Josh smiles, running a hand across the back of his neck. “Me neither. We can figure it out together.”

Pride washes over you at being Josh’s first, even though you know it’s not something you really have to be too happy about. But you’ve grown up with the guy, pretty much experiencing all of life together with him. It only made sense that you had each other’s firsts in this way, too.

You let yourself fall back into Josh’s embrace as one of his hands leaves your waist to reach into your sweatpants. It takes him a bit of fumbling but he eventually finds your pussy, teasing it through your soaked underwear. The squelching sounds of your wetness cause you to bury your face into the crook of his neck, embarrassed by how obvious your arousal was.

Josh chuckles at your reaction, his fingers continuing to pet you and you buck your hips into them.

“S-shut up,” you argue weakly, not wanting to see his face as he teases you.

“Didn’t say anything,” he whispers into your ear.

You figure that the only way to get Josh to stop teasing you was to beat him at his own game. Your hands reach down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, and you hear a halt in breath as his fingers falter slightly in their rhythm as you stick your hand down his pants, palming at his bulge.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “feels good.”

You hum, moving your hand across his bulge as he ruts his hips against you. He leaves kisses up and down your neck, causing you to gasp and squeeze him harder, a groan tumbling from him.

“Fuck yeah, hon, keep doing that.”

You finally move your hand into his underwear, wrapping it around the full girth of his cock as you stroke him at that same pace of his fingers pumping in and out of you.

“Josh,” you whine, pressing your body to him as close as you can. “Gonna cum.” One of your hands digs into his backside trying to find some stability as the other continues to stroke him.

His pace quickens and broken moans escape you as you buck into him frantically, a loud moan falling from you orgasm onto his fingers.

Josh isn’t too far behind as you hear a groan from him and a warm stickiness envelopes your fingers. 

You reach around and thankfully find a roll of paper towels in the storage closet to wipe your hands with.

Josh leans up and kisses you, and you sigh into it, bartering with yourself that it’ll be the last one before you’ll begin cleaning yourself up.

“I am approaching the door.”

Chris’s voice rings out as you and Josh jump back, eyes wide as you stare at each other.

“I am about to put my hand on the doorknob.”

“Fuck,” you groan, hastily trying to fix your appearance so that you don’t look like you were two seconds away from fucking.

The door opens and Chris stands in front of you two, an unamused look across his face.

“You’re lucky I was able to convince Jess to let me do this,” Chris sighs, turning his head away for a brief moment so that you and Josh can try to make yourselves look a little bit more presentable. “Although I think I’m the unlucky one now.”

Josh turns to you, snickering. “Aww, honey. Cochise cares about us!”

“Ooh, you loooove us.” You imitate exaggerated kisses in Chris’s direction, and then give Josh a kiss on his cheek.

“Man, I’m really gonna have to be the third wheel now,” you hear him mutter to himself, although loud enough that you and Josh can still hear.

“Ashley’s still waiting for you,” you tell him, teasingly.

“Fuck you, guys,” he retorts, spinning back around and walking back towards the living room. “I’m gonna need a drink after this.”

Josh pouts mockingly as he holds your hand. “Aw man, without us? Don’t worry, we’re all gonna get drunk off our asses tonight.”

Chris shrugs. “Go crazy, I guess. I really hope you two aren’t some of those horny drunks.”

You wink at him as the three of you cross into the living room, the sounds of your friends’ voices growing louder. “Can’t promise you anything, bud.”

[maiackmn]

Home (you) Series Masterlist

Here is the series masterlist for Home (you), my human rk boys (Nines, Connor, Sixty) x Reader series.

Chapter I - The Village It Takes

Chapter II - Raining, Then Pouring

Chapter III - Taking Root

more coming soon...

Series tag

[maiackmn]

*Under construction*

➵NSFW/MDNI➵ On A03 as an anthology titled "Voluptatem"

Multi-Chapter

The Fine Art of Knot Tying In the French Way

One Shots

Cleanliness and Godliness Gone Fishin' Barely Hidden NSFW Alphabet Virtuous Convalescence Regret Me Not In Sickness Painted Ribbons Anything You Can Do Learning the Hard Way Accounting and Other Arts Caught Hush Settlin' Down Under My Blanket Wait... Already Gone

[maiackmn]

Human 101: Dancing

pairing: rk800 connor x reader

words: 1.2 k

warnings: language, self-deprecating humour, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov, kissing

summary: human 101 (the sequel) with (y/n) and Connor, a crash course on the basics of humanity, brought to you by sumo as always and a very sleep-deprived writer (comedy, fluff)

additional context: reader has a rampant crush on Connor, as established in Short Circuit, and Human 101: Cooking, this is a direct sequel to human 101: cooking and could also be a spiritual successor to short ciruit;

a/n: back with some more <3 psps there is fluff

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As you may already know, I was on a mission to introduce my good friend (and unfortunately, nothing more) Connor to the finest parts of being human. We'd been through cooking, humor, banter (which he is insanely good at now, by the way), and music, so naturally, that brought us to dancing. Am I nervous? Pfffft. As if (yes, extremely).

"Hey (Y/n), why are we at this club?" he screamed over the throbbing music.

"We're going dancing!"

"(Y/n), this place is called Funky Junk in the Trunk."

"Your point being?"

"Are you sure this is the best course of action? Exposure to this decibel level for a prolonged period could cause temporary hearing loss."

"What? I can't hear you???"

Yeah, so we were already off to a rough start. For some reason, Funky Junk in the Trunk did not live up to its name. The music was loud, jarring, and honestly, annoying. I looked around to see the crowd emptying out of the dance floor bit by bit as the music got progressively worse. The only people still dancing were either drunk out of their minds or lost in the sauce.

Just as I was about to call it off and leave, I noticed Connor's face twist in a sly smile, like he'd planned something.

"What? What are you smiling about?"

"I, uh, I asked if the DJ takes requests. Heads up."

Just as he finished that sentence, he swiftly pulled me close by the small of my waist and held my hand as he led me to the dance floor, all while Sway by Michael Buble started to play through the speakers, which just so happened to be my favorite song at the moment.

"How did you kn-" I started, but Connor cut me off with a subtle, almost playful smirk.

"You mentioned it once," he said, his voice steady, even as he spun me effortlessly into the middle of the dance floor. "During one of our music discussions. I remember everything you tell me, (Y/n)."

Of course, he did. Excuse me while I explode into a billion pieces.

When he danced, he wasn't stiff or awkward like I’d been expecting- oh no. Connor moved with the kind of precision and fluidity that only he could pull off. Every step was in perfect rhythm with the music, every sway of his hips deliberate and smooth. It was unfair how good he was at this. No, like, he was literally perfect.

"Holy shit, how are you so good at this?"

He looked down at me, a faint teasing glimmer in his eyes. "You seem surprised. Did you think I wouldn't know how to dance?"

"Maybe a little!" I huffed, attempting to match his movements. "Seriously, how?"

"Dancing is just coordination and timing," he said casually, as if this wasn’t completely insane. "And I've studied. A lot."

I tripped slightly, and he caught me instantly, steadying me with a firm hand on my back. "Careful," he murmured, his voice low. "We can't have you falling for me now, can we?"

I gaped at him, my face burning. "Uh, ok, wow, did you just- Connor!"

His smirk grew, a little too self-satisfied. "Was that not an appropriate use of humor? I’ve been practicing."

"Well, let's just, dial it down. Some of us are weak at heart."

As the song continued, Connor twirled me around and pulled me close again, his hand never leaving my waist. I was acutely aware of how little space there was between us now, the warmth of his presence, the way his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip.

“Your face is warm. Elevated blood flow to your cheeks. Are you embarrassed, or is this just part of the human experience?”

"Wha- No, I’m not!" I started to protest, but his grin told me he wasn’t buying it.

"It’s a fascinating physiological response," he continued, leaning in slightly. "The dilation of blood vessels, the increase in temperature... I think it's cute," he said, nonchalantly like he was stating a very obvious fact.

My brain short-circuited. Completely. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to strangle him or melt into the floor. Maybe both? Both, yes, sounds perfect. I decided to just completely ignore that that happened, which he noticed too, obviously, duh.

“Avoidance. Another human trait.”

He dipped me suddenly, holding me there just a moment too long as he looked at me with that maddening smirk. I would have honestly preferred if he just shot me or strangled me with his bare hands.

"I- wh- I, uh," I stuttered, completely forgetting every single word of every language I have ever known. Nice going, (Y/n).

“Is that what you were going to say, or am I distracting you?”

"Connor, Oh my god."

"What?" he asked, incredulously, like he was unaware of what he was doing. That sly dog.

"What's gotten into you tonight, Jesus."

The tension between us was thick, and for a moment, all I could do was stare at him, trying to regain my composure. But Connor wasn't giving me a second to breathe. He pulled me back up, making sure I was steady before guiding me into another slow turn, all while keeping his face just a bit too close to mine.

"I just thought I’d take things to the next level," he said, his voice practically dripping with that trademark teasing tone of his. “After all, if I can master dancing in such a short amount of time, maybe there are other things I can learn about being human. Like…"

"Yeah, like what?"

"Like this."

He looked me in the eyes for a moment, as if to let me know that this was going exactly where I thought it was, and boy did it. He slowly leaned in, the distance between us closing almost imperceptibly as the music swelled all around us. His lips met mine in a delicate collision, but it felt like I had been set on fire.

My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel every nerve in my body awake, alive with heat I had no idea I was capable of feeling. His touch was nothing short of electrifying, and I could feel him pull me closer, his hands firm but gentle on my waist, holding me there like he never intended to let me go.

His lips moved in sync with mine, his hand still at my waist while the other cupped my cheek. The kiss deepened, and I stumbled back at the sudden intensity.

My thoughts scattered, and my body reacted before I even had time to think- my hands resting on his chest, just above his heart (well, heart-adjacent), feeling it race in sync with mine. We pulled apart just enough to break the kiss, but his eyes were still on me, now with something more warm behind them.

"You taste just like I imagined," he whispered, his voice rougher than usual, and there was a hint of amusement in his tone that told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me. This man was driving me up the wall.

My heart was still pounding in my chest, and I couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corners of my lips. "You have some nerve, you know that?" I breathed out, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but failing miserably.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against my ear as he replied, "You know what, (Y/n), I think we're doing okay with dancing. There's something else I'd like to learn now."

"Yeah, and what is that?"

"Relationships."

[maiackmn]

Becoming Human

Tw: Discussion of SA, smut with plot. Loss of virginity basically, robot sex, gentle sex, consent is sexy, Connor likes kissing (a lot), hand holding during sex

Word count: 6,935

Synopsis: Connor's partner, a newer model designed to stay with him at all times and follow his orders, has gotten a glimpse of human desires, awakening something in her she asks Connor to help her with. (Don't ask why Connor has an android, plot reasons)

“Is… this what humans look at often?” You asked in an almost uncertain voice as you stared at the screen of the magazine. Your eyes scanned it, analyzing the photos. The women in the photos looked so… pleased. Satisfied even. Your eyes looked lower, seeing the shafts of the unseen men just outside of the frame of the photo.

You knew that humans engaged in sexual activities but never before have you seen it first hand. Subconsciously your fingers gripped the sides of the screen, the subtle static lingered beneath your fingertips as you held the device. You blinked slowly as soon as you finished taking in the magazine. You knew it wasn't breaking any rules, but seeing such an activity out in front of you with no other purpose besides being material for humans to get off to.

“It is catered towards human men, its purpose is to arouse the viewer hence the position of the woman.” Connor said, stepping beside you as he gently took the magazine from you, swiping it back to the next previous page which was more appropriate, he turned to the desk you had it on and placed it there once more. Your hand was still in the air, shaking your head you placed it to your side.

Your systems were acting up. At least, that's what you thought.

“Yes. Of course.” You responded, looking up at him as he turned back around to face you. Your voice still had the uncertainty in it, you didn't know why you were acting this way. There was a… feeling you had, almost a subtle ache. You… liked it.

Your eyes landed back on his, when you realized he has been watching you closely, his expression remained natural but you can tell he noticed your behavior. “Scanning error.” You responded. Why were you experiencing such strange behavior? You wondered to yourself.

“Understood.” Connor replied almost immediately with a nod of his head. Suddenly he turned around, analytically as he gathered a theory. He walked around the room as cops stood idly, waiting. “The victim had unfulfilled desires, eventually trying to take it out on his own android.” He walked towards the kitchen as you followed behind him, the water that had spilled over from the overflowed sink splashing beneath you. Your eyes wandered to the lifeless corpse of the man slumped against the wall, the bottom half of him slightly drench in water and god knows what. He was barefooted…

“The perpetrator had been doing the dishes when they were attacked.” Connor continued matter-of-fact. “Jesus.” Lieutenant Anderson said in disgust, his arms crossed as he watched Connor closely. You agreed even if you had not said anything.

You looked down at the broken dish on the ground, as you stood there in shock, the feeling you had previously slowly fading away thankfully as Connor carried on. “A fight had broken loose, the victim using force. But failed when he stepped on the glass. The perpetrator had a chance to charge at him, strangling him to death.” He finished. “Self defense.” Anderson stated. “If he wanted a quick fuck he could have gone to a Eden Club for God's sake.” He said, looking at the corpse with disapproval.

“The nearest Eden Club is nearly an hour away Lieutenant Anderson.” Connor explained as you analyzed the scene. It did make sense… but why his own android when he had the women in the magazine?

.

.

.

.

Connor sat beside you in the taxi hours later. After more investigation of the scene, it was clear the perpetrator had run off hours prior. Your hand rested in your lap, you couldn't get those images out of your mind. The way it made you feel… but it faded so quickly when Connor had described the situation. They both seemed like the same thing but they also weren't… those women were enjoying themselves, but the perpetrator clearly did not want it. You closed your eyes, trying to forget about it. But eventually you couldn't help it.

“Connor.” You started, turning towards him. He looked away from the window, facing you. The taxi continued driving slowly, the world passing by the both of you but right now it was just the two of you.

“The victims magazine. Why couldn't he use that to… satisfy himself. Why attack an android?” You asked, Connor looked at you. His expression was gentle as he slowly began. “Human desires and feelings become too much for them to handle, and sometimes lash out on the nearest living being even by force.” He explained.

“Desires.” You repeated. “Is that why they engage in sexual activity?”

He nodded. “But there is consent involved, the perpetrator… did not give it.”

You looked at him, you understood his words even if you did not say anything. Funny how you're intelligent in your field but this topic has you rather confused, you turned to look outside the window once more. You knew what sex was, how they performed it, at least you think so. But never have you yourself taken part in it. Other androids have it in their programs but you didn't. Even if you did, you did not like the thought of doing it with a human.

Finally, the vehicle slowed. It drove to the side of the road with the other parked taxis. “We're here.” Connor said, exiting the car and closing the door. You followed him soon after. He walked towards the police station, his steps calculated and with ease. Your head was hung low, you don't know why they programmed you like this. Quiet and obedient to Connor almost like a pair of toys sold separately. You never really questioned it, but what exactly were you to Connor? He seemed to have accepted the fact he now has a partner. No fuss about it…

You finally looked up at the back of his head, when his hand came forward, reaching for the handle you spoke almost immediately. “Connor.” It came out rushed. He seemed taken aback even if he didn't show it. He turned towards you, his voice was gentle and curious as he asked what was wrong, the way he said your name. This… feeling was back again only, more pleasant.

“I'd like to speak to you about something private.”

You say, he was about to speak. You knew it was regarding the case but you simply reached forward. Taking his hand into yours as you guided him away from the door. He followed you willingly, his eyes landing on your intertwined hands. This wasn't usual behavior for you.

You slowed down a few feet away, taking him on a bus bench. You sat down with him following your lead. You let go of his hand, placing yours in your lap as you look forward. Towards the empty street. It was late, not surprising there was a lack of vehicles driving at this hour. He stared forward too. For a long while you two sat in silence, the distant car horns can be heard, and the sound of people talking in the distance but right here it did not matter.

Your eyes landed on a glowing poster on the other side of the road. An advertisement for what looks to be a romantic movie. Not that you cared for that sort of thing but the two people in the poster certainly did. “Those characters.” You started, pointing towards it. “They are kissing.” Connor hummed in acknowledgement. “They are. Kissing is a form of expression of love, whether it's between family or lovers.”

“Lovers…” You repeated quietly. You close your eyes for a moment, before starting. “I would like to try it with you.” As soon as the words left your mouth Connor turned to you. His expression was the same as always but you can see clearly he was taken aback even if he didn't want to show it. “Can you repeat yourself?” He asked, he knew damn well what he heard. He gave you the option to back pedal, but you couldn't.

“Kiss you. I would like to kiss you Connor.” You say bluntly, though your tone remained soft as you stared directly into his brown eyes.

“I've never done so with anyone. I would like to experience it with you. Feel it with you.” You added the last part immediately afterward, your voice remained in the same gentle tone. You saw the subtle purse of his lips as he looked in consideration at you, never breaking eye contact. That was a good sign right?

“I… I understand if you do not agree. I had just wanted to ask at least.” You say finally after a few moments. You felt normal, at least you thought you did. But inside something was happening. Your chest felt heavy, your systems were acting up again. You didn't even notice the way your fingers ever so lightly tightened on your lap. You can feel the soft fabric of your skirt on the pads of your plastic skin, memorizing every fiber. Was this… a human emotion?

You were taken out of your thoughts as Connor opened his mouth to speak, but for once no words could form in his talkative programming. Finally blinking as he glanced down at your hands.

Instead, he slowly reached out and placed his hand on top of yours. His eyes traveled back towards yours, you were confused by his behavior but welcomed it anyway. “I do agree.” He says slowly, in that comforting tone he often uses but this time felt different. The way he said your name felt nice… an unfamiliar kind of nice than the one you felt before. The ache came back but this time it was in your chest. It was the same aching but it was less intense, or maybe more so you honestly couldn't tell anymore.

Your lips formed a small smile as you looked down at your feet as the heaviness in your chest slowly faded, replaced by ease and perhaps excitement though you refused to show that part. Your eyes widened a bit as you felt his hand come up to your cheek, turning your face back to his as he stared at you. His thumb ever so lightly grazed the plastic skin as his hand held your cheek. It came towards your lips, admiring the subtle plumpness there. You couldn't help but close your eyes, leaning into his touch. After a few moments, you opened your eyes, looking at him with fondness and his eyes were the same. Finally he leaned forward, stopping himself midway as he was second guessing. But when you saw you slowly move forward too, he relaxed. The bright colors of the signs on the other side of the road reflected on you two, almost intimately. His eyebrows furrowed a little, have your eyes always been this beautiful? Much to his dismay you close them, but he soon mimicked your actions, closing his blue orbs as well.

Your lips finally met, you didn't know what you were doing. You're doing exactly what the humans in the poster are doing. Experimenting a little, you tilt your head and press your lips forward. ‘Ah that's how.’ you thought to yourself. Connor did the same, moving his head to the other side, his hand was still atop yours. Squeezing it gently as you two discovered how to do it properly. His slightly pink lips felt soft, almost like the skin of a human. Just when you parted your lips to take an experimental lick on his lips he pulled away slowly. Seeming not to notice what you planned on doing.

His LED glowed, slightly flickering but it still remained blue. You two sat there, face inches apart from each other. Connor looked down at you, for once he seemed to be lost for words. He'd like to tell you it felt nice or he was happy to be of assistance. But nothing came. You stared at him, a part of you wanted to lean in again, kiss again. Experiment if he allowed you to. Finally he said your name again, in a soft yet intimate tone. One that a husband would say to his wife.

“I…” he started, never breaking eye contact. “I-” he said with a little bit more certainty in his words, but as he opened his mouth to speak he heard the loud voice of Anderson. You turned around, seeing him standing beneath the orange light of the police station's door. “Connor! Get your ass in here we got a lead!” He announced, turning to enter the building. Connors' eyes widened as he stood up immediately, unfortunately taking his hand off yours. “Of course, Lieutenant.” He responded just as Anderson left the two of you again.

He glanced down at you almost like an apology before walking towards the station, leaving you alone on the bench. As you watched him disappear into the building, your head slowly turned back to the ground again. Your hand came up to your cheek, smiling as you took it in. You kissed Connor. You felt your cheeks start to heat up, which you were certain was not in your program but at this moment you could care less.

You felt the wonderful feeling in your chest as you recounted the way his lips felt on yours just moments prior.

“He kissed me…”

.

.

.

.

“Connor…” you say, gently knocking on the door of the motel room. He sat on the desk, the orange glow of the lamp coated him as he looked over the evidence of the case, the room was dimly lit, shadows moving along with Connor. It danced on the wall behind him, creating a distorted but yet beautiful version of reality. You both had to share a room, Lieutenant Anderson insisted on it, he refused to sleep in a room with two androids which did not need sleep. He had a point and you can see where he was coming from. Just for one night…

Finally, he turned to you. Placing down the file as he smiled welcomingly. He greeted you before turning his attention back to the files scattered on the desk.

Your hand gripped the plastic bag in your hand slightly. You had run off to the store across the block of the motel. That kiss you both had shared was beautiful, despite being only a few days ago you could not have stopped thinking about it. You closed the door behind you, locking it which he didn't even seem to notice. It was basic thinking anyway.

You greeted him back, slowly walking towards the bed and sitting down on the edge of it. Watching him from behind as he worked. You closed your eyes for a few minutes. After a while, he finally put the papers back into the document. Your eyes opened as you saw him put it back into the bag he had brought for no use besides keeping it safe.

“Connor.” You started once he was done. He turned around, looking down at you, god you never realized just how tall he was compared to you especially when you're sitting down. Despite his friendly personality, he was intimidating at this moment. He had not seemed to be affected by it, or perhaps he was just as badly as you but does not want to put the mission into jeopardy. “Yes?” He asked, stepping towards the bed as he sat down next to you, at least he wasn't towering over you as much, (though he is still very tall).

“When we kissed… did you… feel something too?” You asked genuinely. He thought for a moment, wanting to deny it, maybe say it was just a malfunction. But he still nodded. You smiled again, before letting out a nervous laugh. The LED light on the side of your forehead turning from yellow to blue once more “That's a relief.” He raised a brow. Relief? That's not an emotion most androids have, but he pushed it aside.

“If you don't mind Connor I'd… I would like to do it again.” You confess. You leaned down, reaching into the bag and pulling out a magazine. His eyes widened a little as you handed it to him. He swiped the page, looking through the contents as something caught in his throat. “I don't understand… Why are you showing me this?” He asked, looking up at you. Still holding as the screen had a woman performing oral sex on a man seen off screen. The calm and collected tone he often used was wavering ever so lightly.

“I bought it… I want to.. do all of this magazine's contents with you.” You say, hesitation evident in your tone but you still pushed through. “I…” He stared, looking through the pages as he saw the positions. You wanted to do all of this? He wanted to ask. “I know it's too much of an ask but when we kissed each other, I felt something. And I'd like to feel again if you'd let me…” You almost pleaded as you looked up at him with a little desperation. “Androids don't feel.” He said bluntly, looking at you sceptically. You felt something inside of you break slightly.

“I don't know what it was, but I know I felt something.”

“No, we are done here.” He said, cutting you off the usual gentle behavior replaced by what can be described as irritation.

“Connor please-” You say as you reach out to grab his hand just as he begins to stand up. As soon as you made contact, he halted his movements. Looking forward, despite his unreadable expression, something was happening inside him. He stood there, he doesn't think he could have stopped what was happening even if he tried. After what felt like hours to him, he blinked a few times. Like he had just woken up from a long slumber which he did not know he was taking. His eyes traveled down to where your hand gently gripped his wrist. The irritation he initially had had been long forgotten, instead looking down at you curiously, you still sat there. Looking up at him with wide beautiful eyes.

He knew that there are most likely many models like you, with your voice and appearance but the android sitting on the bed was one of a kind. He always found you pretty but whoever made you… went all out. You were more than just pretty, you were gorgeous. Realizing he had yet to say anything, he slowly nodded, never breaking eye contact. “Okay.” he simply said. Your desperation slowly faded, seeing the slight reassuring smile on his face. Was he just as curious? You wanted to ask why he had a shift in behavior but he sat down once more. He grabbed the magazine from the side, looking down at it briefly before tossing it to the ground.

“We don't need instructions.” He glanced at you. “Have you done this before?” You asked curiously, tilting your head. “N-no.” He quickly clarified. “This would be my first time ever delving into such an activity.” He explained. You nodded your head understandingly. “It would be my first time too.” You admitted. It didn't feel strange to confess a thing. You felt relieved knowing that you two get to discover this together, treading through the unknown without guidance. “I know the basics, but besides that I would like to experience this with you.” His hand reached over, placing it back on yours. He stared at you with an expression you could not quite put your finger on. It was a mix of fondness and something else entirely.

Suddenly, you were back on the bench. The neon lights that had illuminated the side of his face were now replaced with the soft glow of the lamp. It felt more intimate rather than in a street in which anyone could have spotted you. No Anderson interrupting or car horns honking. It was just… you and Connor.

As if taken by an unknown being, you leaned into him just like at the bus stop. Only this time you knew how to kiss. He did the same, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Both of your shadows merge with each other in the background. Your lips dance together in harmony for a long while, enjoying the feeling of his soft mouth on yours. His hands came up from yours, cradling your head in them as if you were the most precious thing he'd seen. And in a way you were, to him at least.

Your own hands found their way to his chest, resting there as you felt the fabric of his shirt on your fingertips. He was warm, which was a given considering most androids are designed to be. “Android …” you thought for a split second. It's funny, you didn't feel like an android at least not in this moment, and Connor had completely forgotten about what his mission was. Instead, focusing only on the sensation of your body slowly leaning into his.

You pressed your chest against his, thank god you didn't need to breathe. You doubt you'll ever be able to let him go at this moment. But after a few more minutes, he pulled away slightly. You opened your eyes slightly, still half lidded as you looked at him. “Open your mouth…” he ordered gently, though it sounded more like a request. But still, you comply. You were so used to giving orders, but it felt good to be asked nicely, especially by him of all people and things.

Your lips parted, opening your mouth a little. He leaned in again, placing his lips on yours again. This time, you felt his tongue soon intrude into your mouth. Your eyes widened lightly, you felt him explore the inside of your mouth curiously. His tongue rubbing against your own for a while before he moved it again. Out of intrigue you began moving yours. Playing with his own for a while. You felt his artificial saliva begin mixing with your own. They really went all out on the designs.

His hands gripped your face a little harder, not like your mind anyway considering you're unable to feel pain. But despite it, he eased up a little. As if you were a delicate human so easily injured. Finally, you both pull away. A string of see through and a slight tint of blue saliva connecting from your mouths. He stared into your eyes for a moment, placing a small peck onto your forehead before leaning back again. You smiled a little, like a shy teenager. He placed his own forehead against yours. You both sat there, enjoying the peaceful bliss of the moment. His hand went from your cheers to the back of your neck as he held you there. He marvelled silently at the softness of your hair on the back of his hand.

Your hands remained on his chest, which slowly began to unbutton his white shirt. He let out a small hum, letting go of you as he began helping you. Eventually he sat there with his chest and stomach out. The jacket and shirt still remained, he shrugged off his jacket as you admired his body. He took his time, folding it then placing it carefully on the floor in front of the bed. As he began taking off his shirt, your hands came to his wrists. Holding them in place. “Keep it on… please” you ask in a soft voice. He nodded without a thought. Sitting straight again.

He watched you as you slowly took off your own shirt. His breath would have definitely hitched as he saw your beautiful skin slowly be exposed. You were still wearing the bra that the company had given you when you were first made, it is not like you sweat anyway. You place it on the floor carefully without feeling the need to fold it.

His hand came to your bare shoulder, feeling the synthetic skin. His finger slid off the strap of your bra down your shoulder slowly. But never made a move to actually take off your garment. You close your eyes, letting out a pleased hum, he slowly traced your collarbone. Soon, your hand came up to his. Intertwining your hands, you look at each other. You could feel his energy and complications he was currently facing. You blink slowly as realization hits you. Your feeling what he is feeling, he's allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you. “It's okay.” He whispered to you. His other hand comes to your chin as he lifts it. You forgot that this was a two way connection for a moment.

“Um…” you started, pulling away from his gentle grip which lingered in the air for a bit. “What next?” You ask. You knew the basics just like him, but to say you knew exactly what you wanted would be a lie. “Perhaps… oral sex.” He suggested. You thought about it for a moment. This was about gaining experience and allowing both of yourselves to feel real sexual intercourse with each other. No human telling you what to do to get them off, no. It was just you and Connor, genuinely exploring this what is seen as taboo activity. Connor stared at you, watching you consider his words. Finally you nodded, a smile forming on your face. “I'd like to do it for you.” he seemed to be genuinely taken aback by this. His eyes widened a little, as he processed what you said. “I… I had assumed you'd want me to- I mean are you sure?” He said with a nervous smile that you returned.

“I want to do it Connor.” You confirm with a nod.

He glanced at your intertwined hands, he knew you could feel his uncertainty. But the look you gave him. That smile was enough to ease him even a little.

“Okay.” He said with a much more calm tone.

His movements were slow as he crawled backwards until his back hit the wooden bed frame. He spread his legs as you began crawling towards him as well. You sat in between his legs, maintaining eye contact with him. You can see the excitement and slight nervousness in his beautiful brown eyes. He was always so considerate towards you. Your hands came to his knees, patting them gently as you leaned in towards him. He leaned in as well, expecting another kiss but was pleasantly surprised when you pecked his cheek instead. But despite it his hands still came up to your face, holding it still as he placed a proper kiss on your lips. You smile against his, finding this cute in a way.

When he pulls away, your hand travels from his knee to his thigh. Your other one going to his bare chest, caressing the flat surface of it. You heard him let out a small noise as you grazed his nipple. “How does it feel?” You ask, looking up at him. “Strange but… welcomed.” He responded, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of your hands on him. You smile again for a moment, studying his expression. Your hand on his thigh trailed upwards, squeezing and rubbing around his groin but never touching it. At least not yet.

Your hand moved around his growing tent to his abdomen, your eyes locked onto it. He was growing aroused. Which wasn't a surprise, you wanted to touch it but resisted. You wanted to study his reactions more. His breathing grew heavy, which wasn't necessary for either of you. As you began moving upwards his hand came to yours. He held it in a gentle grasp, guiding back down as he pressed it against his bulge. “Here…” he almost pleaded looking you in the eyes, not wanting you to continue with this teasing. You continued eye contact, squeezing it softly as he let out a small groan. His hips instinctively move upwards, grinding it against your hand.

“Okay…” you say with a nod, squeezing his erection once more. He let out a small ‘thank you’ as soon as the words left your lips.

His head fell back against the bed frame, closing his eyes as he felt your hand continue its massage on his bulge. His legs spread even more, moving his hips along with your hand every so often. He had never felt anything so unbelievably good before. You study his expression, he looked so pleased right now. You wonder what exactly he was feeling. Out of curiosity your free hand came to his, intertwining it once more. And the moment you connected with him you let out a small gasp. You gripped his hand as you felt the overwhelming emotions. It felt so good. He looked back down at you. He saw your expression of pure pleasure, he bit his lip lightly.

Your reaction during such a moment managed to turn him on even more because he grabbed the back of your neck. Slamming his lips onto yours like a hungry man. You returned it with the same energy, your hand continuing its welcomed assault on his groin. Your tongues both dance with each other in harmony, eventually you grow more impatient sliding your hand down his pants and boxers and grasping his member. He let out a groan against your lips, but still gripped your hands together. Wanting you to feel as good as he did. You pull him out of his trousers, exposing him to the cool air of the room. Not wasting any time your hand started moving up and down, spreading the blue tinted liquid down his shaft.

“F-fuck I-” he cursed, pulling away from your lips as his hand finally let go of your own. Moving downwards he held your other one in his, guiding it up and down as he closed his eyes tightly. Indulging shamelessly in pleasure, not that you minded anyway. His expression and actions were enough to make you feel just as good. After a while, you slowed your hand movements. He opened his eyes, staring at you confused but that faded as soon as he saw you lean downward. He ended his grip, pulling away as he bit his lip. Watching your mouth slowly open and take in his leaking tip.

He let out a small, “a-ah!” feeling your mouth engulf his length down your wet cavern. You stilled for a moment, his cock throbbed in your mouth. You could feel more of his bitter liquid leaking out from his tip. Slowly, you began bobbing your head. Taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust. You heard his soft cries, felt his hands grip your hair. He sounded so delightful. His LED flashed with different colors, the emotions overwhelming but still pushing you downward.

He had no idea just how sensitive he really was, especially in such a situation. But then again he was never in such a position before. His hips bucked involuntarily against you. He wanted to apologize but the words were an incoherent mess as he mewled. You never heard him make such sounds before, it was a pleasant surprise. Having one of the best android detectives beneath you as they make such quite frankly cute noises.

You moaned again to him, closing your eyes as you took him deeper down your throat. Practically swallowing him whole. Thank god you didn't have a gag reflex, you doubt you could take him as deep otherwise. Your tongue moved along his cock, tracing the bottom of it before you moved back. Your mouth was off him, but your tongue remained. Circling the tip of his head, as more essence oozed out. You licked it off, taking his head into your mouth as you sucked. Almost as if you wanted more to come out.

Suddenly you felt his legs clamp on your head, caging you in between. You halted your movements, looking up at him as he covered his face with his hand. “I- I felt something coming” he confessed sheepishly after a few moments, sitting upwards he slowly let go of your head as you pulled away. You nodded in understanding, his wet erection now standing tall in the air between you two. “It's okay Connor,” you reassure.

“Thank you…” he said, smiling at you. Grateful for your empathy. “I'd still like to continue if it's fine with you.” He added soon after. You immediately nodded, returning his smile as you sat straight. “I'd like that a lot Connor.” You say with enthusiasm.

Now it was your turn to lean against the frame. The both of you maneuvered your positions. Connor towered over you, his hands going to each side of your head where your hands rested. He intertwined them once more as you gazed up at him with trusting and vulnerable eyes. Your legs were spread, the skirt and underwear long gone as you laid exposed beneath him. You both remained eye contact as he slowly guided his length to your entrance, rubbing it against it for a moment. “I love you Connor…” you whispered to him as if it was a secret only he could know. He hushed you gently, placing a kiss on your lips once more. He knew you did. He knew the moment you and him intertwined your hands together.

Finally, he moved his hips slowly. You gripped his hands tightly as he entered you. You gritted your teeth and closed your eyes as his expression turned euphoric for a moment. He had never felt anything so good before. You were so warm around him, practically hugging his length in a tight hold. It didn't hurt you thankfully, but it certainly felt weird. You had never been penetrated in such a way. “It's okay…” he whispered to you, repeating your exact words you said to him prior.

It took you a moment. But eventually you relaxed, your stiff body now easing as you got used to him inside you. You opened your eyes, only to find him staring down at you with concern. He smiled as he saw your beautiful eyes open once more. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours again. You smile lightly when he does this. He started moving his hips slowly, entering and exiting you. Coating his member in your juices. You and him could feel what the other was experiencing. Connor could feel himself penetrating you, and you could feel your walls tightened around his shaft. You and him let out soft gasps and groans as he moved his hips.

His scrotum slapped against you, the sounds filling the room every so often. You couldn't believe how turned on you were, he felt so damn good. Like the people who designed you made you especially for him in every way possible. It felt right. Like you were meant to be more than his partner, like you were meant to be his everything. And right now you certainly felt it through his hands. He cared about you so much even if he would not say it verbally. But you could feel it.

He started moving his hips faster, your cries grew louder as you felt him hit your deepest point. He let out loud groans as well as he moved. He had to keep doing this, he would tell himself. It felt too good to stop, he didn't want to. He wanted to be as deep as possible. He wanted you to feel his desire for you, which is why he gripped your hands tighter. You both locked eyes, even if you two were not holding hands, you would have been able to see his desires through his eyes. “Oh Connor!” You cry out as your back arches. He spoke soft praises as he slammed his hips against yours. Crying out his name like it was the only thing you knew or recognized. Like it was a song from the heavens.

The sounds of both of your skin slapping against each other soon halted, he stopped his movements. Your eyes widened as he groaned loudly, practically whimpering out your name as he released inside of you. When you felt his essence spread inside you, the knot that had formed soon broke leading to you yelling out his name once more as you felt pure euphoria wash all over your body. You two stayed like that for a while before you gave up, slumping against the bed tiredly. You felt him fall on top of you soon after. Both of you panting as you recovered from the encounter.

“Oh Connor…” you said once more, this time in a much more calm tone. He lifted himself up, looking down at you with pure admiration. Both of you let go of each other's hands. “I've never felt anything like that before.” You admitted as he sat straight. “Me neither…” he replied. “It was amazing. Absolutely amazing.” He added. Slowly pulling out of you as you sat up straight along with him.

“Thank you Connor.” You say after a few moments of silence. “For what?” He questioned sincerely. “You know… for doing this with me.” You shrugged, sitting against the bed frame. “You could have just left me but you didn't.” You referenced his prior irritation. He considered this for a minute, before looking you in the eyes with a gentle expression. “Well, I'm glad I didn't.” He confessed. You grinned at this, crawling towards him and wrapping your arms around him. You leaned against his shoulder and closed your eyes. He soon returned your embrace, resting his head atop yours.

It was just the two of you here at this moment, no deviants, no insults thrown your way every minute and no case. Just Connor and you.

“Connor…” you say quietly after a while. “Yes?” He asked, not letting you go as you two spoke in soft whispers. “I'd like to do more stuff with you.” You suggest. His head turned towards you in surprise, but it was not unwelcomed. He grinned lightly against you. “Of course…” he nodded in agreement and part enthusiasm as he pulled away to press yet another kiss on your lips which you happily returned.

The rest of that night was a blur. The rest of your clothing was scattered around the room, long forgotten as you two explored each other's naked bodies. Both of you experimented with different positions, first his head was between your legs, lapping at your core like you were the most delicious meal he's had. Then there was you both standing up straight as he thrust his cock in between your thighs, rubbing against your cunt. He was curious at one point, he wanted your head in between his legs yet again this time lower as you stuck your tongue into his entrance. Of which he soon told you he didn't like, not like you discovered something you disliked as well when he had tied your hands above your head with his tie. You told him you hated feeling powerless in such a situation of which he understood. You two only stopped when he was in the middle of thrusting into you, that was until he felt the sunlight find itself through the curtains and blinding him for a moment, your leg was on his shoulder as you laid beneath him sideways. “It's morning.” He had told you, your head turned towards the window. “It is…” you responded in slight amusement.

.

.

.

.

You hummed lightly as you both stood in the bathroom of the motel room. Your hands fixed his tie as he watched you. You both made sure to clean yourselves before you left the room. You both wanted to be presentable despite the busy night. You hummed in delight as he let go of his tie. Stepping back and examining him.

“There you are… handsome as always.” you praise with a smile. He turned to the mirror, turning side to side as he analyzed himself. ‘Perfect.’ He thought before turning to you. He looked at your disheveled hair before grabbing the brush on the sink. “Turn around please.” He requested gently as you obeyed him without a fight. You felt his hands thread your hair, slowly brushing it as he ran his hands through it. Uncurling the strands with the brush. You closed your eyes as you hummed. He was so gentle with you, like you were a precious diamond that needed protection. And in a way you were at least in Connors eyes.

Once he was done, he placed the brush back down. He looked down at your hair and nodded satisfied with his work. “I will be waiting for you outside.” He said, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek. “Don't make me wait please.” He requested nicely as he turned to leave the room. You smile as you watch him disappear out of the room.

“Oh I won't…” You said to no one in particular as you go to get dressed in your own clothing.

[maiackmn]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛'𝑠 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐵𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢

Sea God!Rafayel x Reader

summary: ever since you were a child, you’d always believed in the elder’s tales of a god who resided in the sea. when you finally meet him, this supposed tale you were now too old to believe in, you weren’t expecting to build a relationship with him. 

word count: 7.9k

warnings: a lot of god talk but ancient fake gods and not real world religion gods, death (technically) 

note: Reader is in her late twenties

ao3

A small fishing village rests on the coastline of a large island. Despite its size, the village itself was described as a wealthy trade hub; with its residents being the happiest on the island, welcoming of tourists and traders alike while gradually expanding into the forests to accommodate those who were relocating to share in the wealth of the village. The village was prosperous, thankful for their standing but unaware of the reason behind their good fortune - chalking it up to their location beside the sea and excellent weather. 

This village was all you’d known, and you remember when it hadn’t been so successful. You’d been a child then, helping your parents keep their failing inn clean for potential visitors. You were eight when you’d started visiting the ocean, finally old enough to be trusted to not be swept away with the tides but still young enough to believe in the stories of the Old Gods who once looked over the people of your island. You’d heard the elders talk of a time when the village had prospered, making offerings to the Gods daily to help maintain that prosperity until a storm had come through - nearly decimating the village and sweeping the faith in the Gods away with the debris of buildings destroyed and hope lost. 

You’d wanted to see if the village could prosper again if the Gods returned, not convinced that they’d left entirely. So you’d made a trip to the beach on a particularly gloomy morning, a seashell in hand with a wish carved into it as an offering to the God of the Sea. The elder had said his name was Rafayel, so that was the name you’d carved as you wished for a way to make your parents happy again. While young, you understood the struggles they were facing with the struggles of the village as a whole and wanted to ease that pain if you could. Anything would help - even just a new trader to purchase the fish that had been caught. Every day for a week, you’d take a shell with the same wish carved into it and say a prayer that you’d be heard by Rafayel. 

On the eighth day, a new ship arrived. The crew needed a place to dock after the storm, staying at your family's inn and spending plenty of their coin while offering other trade for their ship to be repaired by the village’s craftsmen. 

On the ninth day you’d sprinted to the beach to thank Rafayel, adding a small carving of a fish with a heart to really push the message across that you were grateful for his hearing you and blessing your family. 

After your one prayer had been heard, your wish clearly granted by the Gods, you continue to go to the beach with the small offerings you could muster as just a child. Shells you’d found, flowers picked from your mother’s garden, even letters you’d written while apologizing for potentially polluting the waters but you’d had nothing else to provide at that time. As you’d aged, the village continued to prosper but didn’t believe that this could be the work of a God. “Simply the change of time” is what your mother had said while cleaning the bar one morning, then requesting that you finish mopping the floors before heading off to do whatever it was you did during the daytime before the bar opened and people arrived for dinner. 

You’d spent your teen years searching the nearby forests for the temples dedicated to the Old Gods that had been lost to time. The elders had vague recollections from the stories that they’d been told while also greatly amused that you continued to believe in such tales despite your age. It wasn’t until well into your twenties that you’d found what you’re sure was a temple dedicated to one of them. A dream had led you there, but you’d never tell anybody that - or about the temple at all. 

The ivy and trees had overtaken the building, what you’re sure was once pristine and well maintained stonework now crumbling into ruin, the building left forgotten as the Old Gods had been. Perhaps that was why the village had fallen into its own ruin, the villagers inability to maintain their faith and the temple that had been a symbol of that faith convincing the God to leave them behind. You wouldn’t be able to restore a temple just on your own, and you doubted that anyone in the village would help what had become just a dream believed by a silly girl who never grew out of old tales, but maybe there could be someone who’d be willing to help just as a project. The potential for another tourist destination? 

The suggestion left your mind soon after you’d had it, knowing that the offerings left at the temple would simply be taken as profit since nobody believed in the Gods but you. Angering them was not something you would allow them to do, not after everything you’d done to appease them after all those years. So the temple was left to you and you alone, and it had taken you months just to clear away enough of the ivy to find a hole in the wall just large enough for you to slip through and finally gain entrance into the temple. Despite its age and state of ruin, there was still an energy resonating within the walls that made you feel warm inside - almost as if a light had enveloped your being just by entering. 

Upon approaching the altar you see paintings that depict the ocean; fish and whales, even depictions of fishermen and what you believed to be what the elders had called mermaids - creatures with the torsos of humans but tails of fish in place of legs. Among them all was a man, the center focal point floating above the water with a scepter in hand and the sun at his back - this man you assumed could only be the God of the Sea.

That evening you’d spent the sunset sitting on the beach, waiting until the moon rose to walk out into the water as the tide splashed around your ankles. The water ripples as you walk further, stopping when the water is at your waist. You’re old enough to understand the strength of the tides, strong enough to hold your ground as the water pushes and pulls around you. You don’t even know what you’re looking for, why you’re in the midnight ocean looking at the reflection of the moon on its surface, but you knew you were called there by something. You hadn’t felt anything like this before entering the temple; having always been called to admire the sea but never like this. Never walking out into the water, tempted to go further but knowing better than to do that or risk losing your life to the depths of the deep seas. 

“Rafayel,” you whisper, resting your hand on the surface of the water as you close your eyes. “The villagers may not believe, but I do. I believe in you, and thank you for the blessings you’ve brought to us and hope you continue to bless my people with your bounty.” 

That warmth pushes through you once more, and you swear you feel a presence at your back and hands on your shoulder as the wind caresses your ears - but you know you’re the only physical presence on this beach. Your eyes remain closed as you try to remember this feeling, even as the wind carries a message through to you. 

Your continued faith will be rewarded, little fish. Return to the temple in three days.

It’s then that you turn around, expecting someone to be behind you only to be disappointed when there wasn’t anyone in the water but you. But you know in your heart that you had been chosen by Rafayel, that it was his voice reaching you from the depths of the ocean. He was rewarding you with his presence, his warmth encasing your spirit being what kept you warm as you walk through the village to your home.

Three days was a very specific timeframe, but you still made your offerings to the ocean despite the instruction given. If you felt that warmth just one more time you were sure you’d be on cloud nine for the rest of the year.

On the third day you kneel before the altar, setting down the offerings you’d accumulated over the day since you weren’t sure which would be appropriate for the Gods. Your parents were worried about you, watching as you shuffled about the house looking for things and etching into seashells you’d brought back from the beach. 

“She’s losing her mind,” your mother had said to your father in hushed whispers in the kitchen, before asking that he sit you down and talk you out of these childish beliefs you had. 

“It keeps her busy and makes her happy,” he’d argued back, which was the last you’d heard before telling them you would be leaving for the day and heading out into the forest to get to the temple. 

You aren’t sure what to do before the altar, so you clasp your hands and close your eyes tight while trying to summon this warmth. 

“O, God of the Sea, please hear me and accept the offerings I’ve placed before you. I, uh, I didn’t know what to bring so I brought a few different things and I hope they’re okay. If they’re bad please accept that I mean no disrespect.” 

The warmth encases your body once more, a light flooding the main room of the temple so bright you could see it behind your eyelids. When they open you see a necklace resting on the altar in place of your offerings, beads and jewels strung together in a way that was reminiscent of the ocean. One sits out of place, a bright crystalline jewel sitting in the center, clearly the centerpiece and focal point of the piece and meant to be admired.

“Where…?”

You hesitate to grab it at first, unsure if your hands were worthy of taking something like that into your hands. Was this the reward of your faith that had been mentioned? But this seemed like it wasn’t something that you were meant to keep. Not a test, but something more than that - an invitation. You assume it had probably belonged to a priest or priestess last responsible for leading worship to the God of the Sea, a belonging of that God, and you’d need to return it to him.

The temple is where you take refuge until after sundown, waiting until the moon has risen well into the sky until you make your way across the village again to head to the beach. You didn’t want to field any questions about your whereabouts or the necklace in your hand, needing to keep this secret to yourself. This necklace wasn’t meant for you, it was meant for the sea and you were going to return it to his home before someone suggested or demanded otherwise.

The beach is always quiet at this time, nobody dared go to the water when the moon was high due to a fear of the tides sweeping them away. Not you, though, you almost welcomed the tides sweeping you away from this village and the feeling that you weren't doing something right in the eyes of the people around you. So you walk into the water, watching as the surface ripples around your intruding presence until you're waist deep, hands skimming the surface until you find the spot that felt right to set the necklace down. The weight of the jewel pulls the necklace into the water, and the logical part of you knows that this jewel could provide great wealth to your family, but your spirit is calm in the fact that you knew this jewel was going back to its home. To be sold over and over again was not meant to be the fate of this jewel, and the light that emanates from below the surface tells you that you were right. Trusting in your faith had yet to lead you astray, and you’re grateful for this day you’d had as a true reward of that faith. 

The wind picks up around you, stronger gusts sending your hair flying around you and forcing you to close your eyes in the face of the gusts. Part of you, that logical part you never listen to, tells you to retreat to the shore lest you be swept out to sea. Your spirit, however, tells you to stand your ground and continue your trust in this God to keep you standing upright within his domain, even as the waves rise around you and your uncertainty rises. 

That familiar warmth rises within your body, comfort and safety washing over any negative feelings you might’ve had about standing waist-deep in the ocean. The Gods would protect you tonight, you trusted that. 

“Aren’t you precious?” That wasn’t at all a scary voice, the gentle poke to your nose wasn’t scary or painful either. “Open your eyes, little fish.”

Should you? Probably not, but you do anyway only to want to close them again because you’re not sure you should be seeing this. A man - no, a God - stands before you in the water, holding the necklace you’d just dropped and turns it over in his fingers as he says, “Somehow, I knew that you’d know exactly what to do with this.” 

Maybe you were crazy, but crazy felt better than anything else right now so you feel calm when you tell him, “It belongs to the sea.” 

“You’re right.” A squeeze of his hand breaks the jewel from the rest of the silver and beads connected to it, dust falling from it before he opens it again to reveal its new shape. “And I’m sure you’ll be right about who I am, too. Please keep this safe.”

The jewel glows bright as it’s transferred from his hand to yours, now shaped like the water lilies that resided in the small lake beside the temple. His larger hands close yours around it, holding them there as he leans in to kiss them before he mumbles what sounds like a blessing into your skin. 

“I am not the sea.”

He looks up at you with a pout, clearly confused at your apparent denial of his gift. “You are one with it, little fish.”

“But I’m not-“

“You have come to this shore every day since you were a child. Regardless of the weather or your own health; you presented offerings, confided your feelings, and always displayed your gratitude. To the ocean for providing its bounties and to me for watching over your village.”

One last press of your fingers to close around the jewel, then his hands are leaving yours and he steps away. Your can only look up at him, bringing your hands to your chest as you feel it’s humming against your skin. It did not have this feeling before, the jewel you’d dropped into the ocean was cold and unfeeling while the one he’d handed back to you had a warmth that resonated within you. As if it’s return and Rafayel’s touch awakened something within it. 

“So you feel it?”

“What is it?”

“Think about it, then give me your thoughts next time we meet.”

“When will that be?”

“Hm, not sure. There will be a pretty bad storm over the next couple of days, so I’m going to request you not come to the beach. I’ll continue to watch over you while you’re safe at home.”

You nod your understanding, beginning to walk back to the shore while keeping your eyes on the God standing before you. He’s making his own way back into deeper waters, until finally he turns to dive into the waters below which was your own signal to turn your back to the sea to begin your walk home. You’re holding the jewel to your chest the entire walk home, then tuck it away beneath your pillow when you’re back in your bedroom. A gift from the God of the Sea, you couldn’t let anything happen to it. 

The answer to what made the jewel important had been answered during the storm. The humming that was once steady and warm had grown colder, the humming more erratic and leading you to believe that this was much more than just a jewel that was important to him. This was the Heart of the Sea, yet another fable turned to fact, but you were still curious as to why you were being trusted with it. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but stop making me run halfway across the island,” you whisper into the gem, eyes widening when it glows a little bit. 

Noted, little fish.

“Stop doing that.”

I don’t think I will. 

Should you be talking back to a God? Probably not, but he didn’t seem that serious of a God. But maybe that was being a God, you didn’t need to be serious when you were immortal. 

“So I can use this to talk to you?”

Not a lot, but yeah it’s an option. You don’t like me being in your head, remember?

You think you might hate him. Gods were apparently annoying, but you know you’re extremely lucky to be in contact with one. You’d seen one, held hands with one, a literal God. And everyone thought you were crazy, they still would without clear proof - meaning the man himself - so you’re keeping this one to yourself. Protecting him and yourself felt like the best option for you. 

But you now had to wait “a couple days” to see him again, to confirm your suspicions about the Heart and confirm that his name was actually Rafayel before you say it aloud and make a fool of yourself. How were you even supposed to talk to a God? Clearly this one wasn’t as pompous as the Old Gods had been made to seem in the tales, but treading lightly to ensure your village didn’t become part of the ocean was also pretty important. Doing what you’re told is difficult when it goes against a routine that you’d held for decades. But he’d been right about the storm, so you spent the day helping your parents board up the windows to protect the glass, then ensure the elders' homes are taken care of with your father before returning to the inn to help your mother with her cooking. 

The storm rages for four long days. As instructed, you stay away from the beach and busy yourself around the inn. Some travelers stuck in the storm had managed to dock safely, so you had some work to keep you busy as you helped your parents keep a tidy and efficient inn. You can only think about Rafayel during those four days, wondering why he’d bring such a horrid storm this way.

Was he trying to prove a point to your village? Show them that as easily as he’d granted them their bounty that he could disrupt their very way of life? That seemed awfully…low, for a God to stoop to such behavior, but you’d be sure to ask him when you next saw him. 

Five days after you’d first met the God, you finally got to go to the beach to try and meet with him again. The state of the shore is more pressing when you see it, debris and other scattered along the sand that needed to be cleaned up - so you set to it. You didn’t have any trash bags, but you’re able to create piles for wood, trash, and a third for other things that you weren’t sure what they were but were certain that they didn’t belong in the ocean. You'd get those items to their proper locations in the morning after handling your business with the God of the Sea.

“What’s this fourth pile, little fish?” The new voice on the once silent beach has you dropping the wood plank in your hand directly onto your foot, the cry of pain you let out stifled into a hiss pushed through grit teeth. “Did I scare you?”

You might’ve thrown the Heart at him if it wasn’t securely tucked into your pocket. Warm hands on your upper arms pull you closer to him until you’re eased into sitting on the sand so he can look at your foot. There’s some gentle scolding about how you should’ve been wearing shoes considering you didn’t know what was hiding in the sand after a storm like that, and you know he’s right but appreciate that he lets it slide when you tell him you don’t like taking an hour to wash the sand out of your shoes and then off your feet when you could just have to worry about one of those things. 

“Your name is Rafayel, right?” 

“It is, little fish.”

“I also have a name.”

He hums as his hand envelops your injured foot, sending a new warmth through it that immediately alleviates the pain you’d been feeling. “I’m well aware of what your name is, but I like little fish, my little fish.”

Hitting Gods wasn’t allowed, at least you didn’t think it was, but it should’ve been. The elders didn’t mention that they could be this annoying. 

“Why’d you hit us with that storm?”

“Oh that? Yeah that wasn’t me.” When you only blink and tilt your head he can only sigh, leaning back on his elbow in the sand as he tilts his own head. “Geez, your people really did lose all of the old teachings. I’m the God of the Sea, but there’s a God of Storms and he’s a little upset right now so everyone’s paying the price.”

You don’t know why that information surprises you, but all you’ve got in response to that is, “Oh.”

“Now, none of us know why he’s mad. Just that he’s mad. And I haven’t been getting good sleep because of it.”

Were you supposed to feel bad about that when people you knew had seen damage to their homes that landed them sleeping at your parents’ inn while they’re being reconstructed? Even if you were, you couldn’t feel bad for him - he was also a God, so matters of lost sleep didn’t feel so big compared to the problems of the people in your village. Yeah, they thought you were a silly girl - nuts, even - but you still cared for them and their health deeply as they also were concerned about yours. 

“Wait, a four day storm is just a little upset?”

“Could’ve sent a hurricane. Besides, I put in overtime trying to reduce the damage to your side of the island as a favor to my favorite worshiper.”

You were pretty confident that you were his only worshiper (if you even really did that), but you don’t want to burst his bubble verbally so you just let him have that one. In return he sits with you for a few hours, telling you more about the various Gods who were still in practice and how they all operated and took turns blessing or ruining peoples lives depending on how the people were behaving. But not your people, they didn’t even remember that there were Gods to upset, and were often left alone because the Gods thought it was cute that you believed so strongly in Rafayel. 

The faith of one person protecting an entire village - the thought didn't seem real despite the evidence sitting directly in front of you.

After a month you’re quite comfortable with being in constant contact with a literal God. Rafayel would visit you at the beach or the temple - wherever you felt like calling him to by using the Heart of the Sea that you’d been entrusted with. You had also been right about the necklace it had once been strung to being the possession of the priestess that managed the temple and led the daily worship to Rafayel. You were now the equivalent of a priestess, despite not having a flock following you in that worship - and that made you feel a sense of importance you’d never felt before in your life. 

Much more important than waiting tables at the inn and being placed in front of potential marriage candidates by your parents. 

Of course the obvious question of why remained. Heavy like the stones resting at the bottom of the sea, weighing down your heart as the question lingers in the back of your mind. A constant itch that you feared scratching because it could possibly leave a wound in its wake - a wound you weren’t sure would heal if the answer wasn’t what you hoped it would be. 

You don't even have to look at him to know what he's doing, the little amused hum was enough for you to know that he needed yet another reminder to respect your mental boundary. “Get out of my head!”

“You’re no fun!”

“You promised!”

“I agreed, an agreement isn’t a promise.” He pauses a moment after he says that, watching as you place your hands on your hips. “Wait, I said that wrong. My word is my bond, what I meant was that I said I’d try.”

You only huff, rolling your eyes as you look away from his own searching gaze. You knew that eye contact wasn’t how he managed to invade your mental privacy, but it made you feel better thinking that he couldn’t tell exactly what was going on in your head without the eye contact. What were words without true emotion to provide context - were eyes not the windows to the soul?

“The answer to your question isn’t as heartbreaking as you might think it would be.” Rafayel comments, coming to stand beside you and looking at the mural your eyes had been scanning for the last minute. “If you want to hear it. I’m not sure since you don’t want me listening to your thoughts.”

You only scoff then, leaning back against the altar and keeping your eyes fixed on the mural. You weren’t giving him the satisfaction of your attention, even if he was a God. If you were trusted with the Heart of the Sea, then you should be trusted to try to humble him every now and then. And he should stop reading your mind. 

“You know, for someone who sits in the presence of a God you sure are demanding.” Despite his pout, you know that he’s content to continue to be in your presence even if you were “demanding”. That’s why you’re comfortable with simply rolling your eyes as you lean back against the altar. “I’m serious, back in the day you people were much more grateful to me.”

“I’m the only person here who still believes you exist, be grateful to me.”

“One is all I need, and I am. You’re harboring the Heart of the Sea, like the priestesses of old. I’m very grateful for someone deserving of that honor.”

Being a priestess didn’t sound so bad, even if the only two people who acknowledged that responsibility were you and the God you attended to. But what happened when your time to pass on eventually came, who inherited the Heart of the Sea from you? How do you encourage others to reawaken their faith in Rafayel so you could have a successor? You’d been branded a silly girl and that had carried on into your adulthood - you’re sure not even the children of the village would listen to anything you had to say.

“You’re worrying about something very distant, little fish.”

“You have to stop reading my mind.”

He laughs as his arm drapes across your shoulders, pulling you into his side and kissing your head. “I wouldn’t need that ability with you most of the time. You are always worrying about the distant future, it’s clear in your offerings and prayers.”

You can’t even be annoyed, he was too cute to be annoyed at. With his long lashes and expressive eyes that bore two colors, symbolic tattoos decorating his body and those pouty lips. If he wasn’t the God of the Sea, all of the girls in the village would be seeking him out as a suitor. Being mad at a face that pretty for knowing who you were felt silly. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Stay out of my head! I don’t care that you’re a God, reading my mind is rude!”

“But you didn’t say no…” He trails off, and you watch as his eyes search your face before they trail downwards a bit. “I also think you’re very pretty.”

He licks his lips before you question him, silencing your question as you can only sit still while he leans into you. Were you about to kiss a God? Were you pure enough for-

“Please stop thinking unless you’re asking me to stop.”

“Stop reading my-“

His kiss silences you, his much more experienced lips moving against your own in a way that you’d never experienced before. There were boys in the village you’d exchanged kisses with, a short affair with a guy who had been docked for repairs, but their kisses were nothing like this. Rafayel was warmth personified; his lips, his hands, his tongue, and you learned that his tattoos carried the same feeling that the Heart did when you held it. A strong hum against your fingers, projecting a warmth through your fingers that made your hands tingle as they explored the colorful markings that decorated his torso. His fingertips take advantage of the hot summer weather and your shorter attire to dance along your bare midriff, the gentle pitter patter causing tingles that ripple under your skin only to be smoothed down by firm palms that caressed you so tenderly. 

“What’s the answer to my question?” 

“Your timing is really something, little fish.” He chides, but he grins as he does before kissing you again. This one much more chaste, a feather light brush of his lips against yours as he speaks. “The answer to your question of ‘why you’ is that you’ve been chosen since your first offering. A true believer of the old faith, the Gods in general but me specifically after nearly a century of lost faith? But there’s also something extremely pure about your heart and your connection to the Sea - you were chosen by her just as much as you were by me.”

You don’t have words to match that, and he takes advantage of your silence to kiss you again - this time urging you to sit in his lap to save both of your necks some strain. His kiss was as strong as the waves at high tide, pulling you deeper into his arms but refusing to push you back. With every breath he stole you sunk deeper, thumbs tracing the tattoos under his eyes while keeping him as the anchor you chose to tie yourself to. At this stage you don’t know that you have the words to describe just what this was currently or had the potential to shape into. This certainly was much more than just two people simply passing the time, but he was still a God, after all. And you were just... you. Would a God take a human lover, or other romantic bond in a human?

“You really like me, huh?”

“You really want to tease a God?”

“Only you,” you murmur, pushing the purple hair back and away from his forehead so you could clearly see the dual toned eyes that always gazed upon you with equal parts adoration and amusement. “Only person I like this much. Only person I trust.”

You continue to meet with Rafayel for another six months. The first time you ever had sex was with the God of the Sea, seated upon the altar that was once used to pray and make offerings - he’d said that he prayed to you that afternoon as you offered yourself to him. Whether it was the temple during the day or the ocean when the moon was at its peak in the sky, you saw Rafayel at least four days out of the week unless the weather was poor. Taking risks with your health was not of interest to him - your faith was obvious enough, you didn’t need to take additional risks for him. 

Over those six months your parents had grown more concerned over your unwed status. Your mother in particular hated how much time you spent “playing around” in the forest or ocean, as your most fertile years would be over soon, paying no attention to the fact that you didn’t desire marriage or children at this time. This wasn’t a battle your father could win, so he only looked at you apologetically whenever you had to sit for a lecture about your wasted youth. Rafayel couldn’t fix that, he couldn’t make people change their minds or influence their actions, so you only sit through it while planning your eventual departure on a ship - or into the Sea as Rafayel had suggested that one morning all those months ago. 

“I hate it when you pout like that,” he comments one night, adjusting your legs around his waist as you bury your face into his neck. “You shouldn’t pout in my waters, little fish.”

“Just tired. Both physically and of my mom trying to marry me off.”

All you get from him is a concerned hum, his head resting against yours as the waves continue to roll sound your bodies. You don’t register that he’s sinking into the water until you’re neck deep, and you pull back to look at him just to see a smile on his face despite your concern. 

“Trust me.”

You trust him explicitly, which might be the problem, so you let him pull you under the surface completely. On reflex your eyes shut tight and you hold your breath until there’s a tickle to your side that has you releasing it and your eyes opening wide at the panic of losing your oxygen. 

“You can breathe, little fish. You’re with the God of the Sea.”

You’re not prepared for him to untangle your limbs from his body and let you go, but you relax at his urging and allow yourself to ride the current for a moment. You couldn’t go far, not in his ocean, so you close your eyes again as you appreciate this feeling. The ebb and flow of the water around you, the true weightlessness in this moment washing away the weight of your mother’s expectations that had been dragging you down. Maybe you could just stay here forever? You're sure this beat sailing away on some ship to an unknown land - here you had him. 

Your eyes open once more to see Rafayel watching you with a soft smile, and when you reach out he pulls you back into his body while pulling you deeper into the water. The fish aren’t bothered by your intrusion, nor are the creatures crawling along the sand at the bottom of the Sea when your feet finally touch down. There are creatures you’d never seen before, but Rafayel tells you about each one as if introducing you to his close relatives while leading you to what looked like a cavern. 

“This is where I live, basically. Not much on the outside but the inside is pretty great.”

It’s almost as if there was a wall of water at the entrance, because as soon as you’ve entered the cavern you feel as if you were back on land. Everything does feel drier, and that’s confirmed by Rafayel as he explains the magic of his home and that the God of the Sea didn’t necessarily love sleeping in water all the time so this was a necessary refuge from his Godly duties. It’s beautifully decorated; some things taken from the wreckage of ships who’d met their end at the bottom of the sea, others gifted from other immortals, and some things he’d gotten while posing as a human at various villages. But what surprises you most are the stacks of canvases and the art easel tucked away in the corner of his main room, and you can’t help but pull away from him and his tour to investigate them closer. 

They’re mostly landscapes and scenery: the forests, coastlines, and beach - and it was clear that he’d put a lot of time and effort into each piece. There were a few that were facing the wall rather than the room, clearly meant to be hidden from anyone’s gaze but you turn them around anyway. The first is still of the beach, but there’s a silhouette of what looks like a little girl crouched at the shoreline with her hands in the water with the sun high in the sky behind her. The second is of that same coastline, this time at night, with a silhouette of a woman kneeling at the coastline with her hands held in front of her and head bowed - you’d assume she was praying based on the positions. The third was of what looked like a couple waist deep in the water, the woman held up by the man as they looked at each other. 

“I’m not really good at people, which is why they’re more shadows than anything else. They feel unfinished, which is why I don’t really look at them.”

“These are all beautiful, even those three that you think aren’t finished. Every piece feels like the scenery is moving, it’s mesmerizing. You never told me you painted.”

“It’s a hobby, keeps me busy and gives me a reason to go to the surface more. Art traders love my work.”

“They should! I’m sure it gets you more fancy furniture.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He’s then guiding you towards his bedroom; where you lose track of the hours between your mutually wandering hands, lots of sex, and long conversations about Godhood and Rafayel’s artistic process. You learn upon your return home that you’d been missing for two days, your parents worried that you’d finally been swept away by the seas. Your excuse that you’d been taking time to reflect in the forest is accepted with a warning to leave a note so they don’t worry the village regarding their not-so-missing child. Worrying them had never been your intent, but your return to the surface solidified that you didn’t belong there anymore - you weren’t sure that you ever had. 

It’s two weeks before you see Rafayel again. You assume Titus, the God of Storms, was having another one of his fits due to the massive storm that had raged for four days followed by another ten days of heavy rain that nearly caused the village to flood - but you think you have Rafayel to thank for keeping the waters at bay to avoid that. 

The beach is quiet when you finally step onto the cool sand, the water deathly still and sky dark with the new moon in effect. Rafayel is already there, sitting in the sand with his knees pulled up to his chest and gaze fixed on the quiet waters. He doesn’t look at you as you sit beside him, gently patting your thigh in greeting but saying nothing else. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve just missed you and the crap weather has really messed with my sleep and my inspiration.”

“I missed you, too. I never got to really thank you for sharing your home with me.”

“It helped you relax and forget about those things that were upsetting you, I’m glad I could share that with you and see you so happy.” He doesn’t sound all that glad, which has you frowning as you fear that you’d upset him someone, or that whatever was weighing in his mind was singing related to you

“What’s wrong? Is there something I can do?”

He hesitates, a pout on his face as he ponders his next words. But he finds his resolve after a moment, meeting your concerned gaze before he says, “I’d like for you to come with me.” 

“To where?”

“The Sea. Every God needs a Goddess, at least in my opinion.”

“Goddess of what, though?”

“There’s been an opening since the Goddess of Safe Harbor chose to join the humans a couple centuries ago. Nobody has truly been worthy of replacing her, until you. You’re my pick, and the others agree with me.”

“And my family?”

“Naturally you’d have to leave them behind, but a woman too foolish to stay out of the ocean is bound to be swept away by the tides one day.”

He makes it sound so simple. Leaving your parents, becoming immortal and serving as a Goddess, just being gone - as if it were nothing. Could it truly be that easy?

“Yes, it can be that easy.”

“You promised to stay out of my head!”

“I’m sorry, little fish! It’s hard to resist when you make that cute thinking face, I love knowing what goes on in there.”

Two fingers press to your forehead, and he grins when your hand grasps his wrist and brings those two fingers to rest over your heart. The Heart of the Ocean, he’d told you that he cherished you as if you were his own heart, and you knew that he loved you as you loved him. “I can give you time to consider?”

“No need. Can you conjure up some choppy waters and sweep me away?” 

“Three days, little fish. I’ll need you to do something to prepare, first.”

You nod as he smiles, leaning into him and listening as he explains what your rise to godhood would entail. Death would be terrifying, but he’d explained that he’d be with you the entire time to care for your body as it changed and accepted its new abilities. “The sex is going to be so incredible. It’s wonderful now but when you’ve got that extra stamina I’m sure we could go for days.” That was important information, at least to him, but you grin as you lean into his shoulder. Your fingers trace the tattoos on his forearms before your hand slides into his for him to squeeze gently in an effort to comfort you. 

“Will I keep the Heart?”

“You are The Heart;  my heart, my love, and my Goddess.”

The three days he’d needed were mostly for your own mental preparation. Dying was a terrifying concert to most humans despite it being part of life’s natural cycle - to live is to die, and most tried their best to prolong that life. 

Your own mental preparation is spent praying. Kneeling in Rafayel’s temple before the altar praying for safe passage into the Godhood that Rafayel was blessing you with. Thanking Tilde, the Goddess of Birth, for her blessing of life (and apologizing a little bit for choosing to end yours so early). Praying to anyone that was listening for your parents’ health and safety in your absence, and the continued stability of your village. It’s all you can do for them now.

On the third day you clean. Your bedroom is the cleanest you’ve ever managed and the floors of the inn are sparkling by dinnertime. You know your parents are curious, but grateful that they don’t ask because you can’t answer it truthfully and don’t want one of the last things you say to them to be a lie. Once they go up to bed you sit down and write a note telling them that you’d gone off to sea but loved them dearly - knowing it won't help them feel any better about your disappearance but giving them an explanation was better than disappearing entirely.

Then you go to the beach. 

The sun was finishing its descent into the horizon, the water before you painted in red, orange, and purple hues courtesy of the setting sun. It was reminiscent of the blanket you kept on your bed, woven by one of the elders as she was trying to teach you how to use the large loom - an attempt that was half successful but not enough that you could be considered capable of weaving for anybody. You can only really laugh at the fact that you were never truly interested or talented in the craftsmanship opportunities present in the village. You’d tried them all, spending many hours sitting with the various artisans as they taught you their craft, but you were always thinking heavily about the sea and supposed God of the Sea to truly listen and learn the craft being presented. A silly girl with silly dreams, spacey and living in her own world that she’d created in her head after listening to one too many old tales. 

But here you were; being carefully pulled to your feet by the fabled God of the Sea, greeted with a soft kiss and words of encouragement as he makes sure that you’re ready to do this. You nod, but the question lingers in the back of your mind: was anybody truly ready to ascend to Godhood? 

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he assures; kissing your forehead, then your nose, before finally settling on kissing you properly. “And then I’ll be with you forever.”

Forever sounded nice, with a finality that wasn’t quite final but comforting all the same. You had Rafayel, and would continue to have him until the end of time. Living in his cavern under the sea - you might even try to learn how to paint. 

“Ready?”

You weren’t. But, again, was anybody truly ready to end their life - even if it meant starting a new, greater existence? You were as ready as you could be, which is why you nod before giving him the verbal confirmation you knew he needed. “Let’s do it.”

The blade he manifests from his chest is large, glowing blue like the Heart did before it had been absorbed into your body. You don’t question if it’ll hurt, only hold onto his shoulders as you’d been instructed to. He speaks in a tongue you hadn’t heard before, and yet understand clearly, as the blade is dragged across your collarbone. 

May the light of the sea protect the Goddess, may she guide travelers to safe harbor once more and protect the Heart of the Sea. 

You don’t feel pain, only a unique emptiness you’d never felt before as your body is lifted to lie along the surface. The waves caress your skin as you float, Rafayel’s hands guiding your body until he’s pushing you down for the weight of the water to let you sink further. 

Drifting downwards and away from Rafayel’s warm smile grows blurry in your dimming eyesight. 

Sinking into the sea, the weight of your limbs now too heavy to even try to keep yourself upright. 

Drifting into nothing, your eyes finally falling closed as you let the waves do to you as they saw fit, your body grew numb and cold as you sank further and further into the cold depths of the sea with only the echoes of Rafayel’s warmth following you down until there was nothing. 

No warmth, no feeling, no vision. Just emptiness until finally you hear his voice once more. 

My love, the Sea has accepted you. 

And then you ascend.

[maiackmn]

norman jayden smut. ykw i want.

you got it. thanks for giving me ur copy of resident evil<3 cw: drug use/drug addiction/drug withdrawal, stay safe qts. tags: femdom, smut wow, dubcon for both parties?, exhibitionism, humiliation, lil bit of praise, he wants to call you mommy but he doesnt, begging, you give him a handy and thats abt it, genderneutral but implied fem reader (duh)

//

I was finishing up a quick job for Jayden as he was quickly sent off on another, something across the country. He trusted me to stay behind and make sure it got wrapped up, however, walking into work afterwards was another story.

“Why aren’t you with Jayden?”

My boss spoke harshly with a donut and cup of coffee. The conversation was shortlived;

“I didn’t want to go?”

“Get your ass over there or you’re not getting paid.”

And so, much to my reluctance, I was coerced into joining him on the case he was deployed to. I was packed up and shipped off within the hour, with not much preplanning and not a single word was spoken to Norman about my arrival.

Not too long after landing, I’d been set up in the same hotel room, and was directed to the police station where they updated me on the case.

I synced up my ARI glasses to his as I walked through the building, trying to skim the current information on record. I was slowly making my way to his new appointed office.

Walking into the room was the last thing I expected.

The back of his chair was facing the doorway, but I saw myself— or an AI version of myself (which was, for some reason or another, completely naked)— and his whines were filling up the room quietly, and by the moment it seemed he didn’t care about being caught in his office. The AI looked up at me, and Jayden immediately flung his glasses off, causing the AI to disappear. He quickly pulled his pants up and spun his chair to face me.

His tie was loosely strung around his neck, despite being completely untied, his button up messily unbuttoned at the top and his jacket slung around the top of his chair, his pants still unzipped and unbuttoned, though he was modest enough to hide his dick behind his underwear.

“Are you joking?”

I slowly took my glasses off, folding them and placing them in my pocket. His face was completely white and pale, his nose was bleeding slightly and his hands were trembling as he desperately held onto the arms of his chair.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry- I don’t- I don’t know what this is. I’ve never- I’ve never seen this.. Before. In my life.” He realised he was caught in a lie as he spoke the wrong words, stammering over every word he could get out. “God, what is this strange technology?” He pretended to analyse the glasses, really trying to take the attention away from himself.

“Norman.”

“I’ve never done this before. I promise.”

“I don’t really care if you have or haven’t.” I sighed. “You’re on tripto again?”

“Can’t..” Jayden cut himself short, unable to continue his sentence. His bloodshot eyes looked up at me, a hint of desperation in them. His clammy hands struggled to keep a solid grip on the armrests. I couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been like this for, he’d been alone in this city for a few hours, and however much longer had he been locked away in this grungy office, trying not to get fired.

There’s a moment of silence between us, it was awkward, the room was hot and he was drenched in sweat. My eyes slowly scanned him, trying to fully process what was going on.

“I need to stay busy until this goes away.”

“I’ll let you—” I spoke, turning to leave.

“No.” He rushed out. “Please. Stay.”

“I don’t want to fuck you like this.”

Jayden's brows furrowed, as he quickly blinked. “I’m not high, Alright? I can consent, god, I’m so fucking sober." He spoke quickly.

“Norman—”

“You just saw me jerking off to an AI version of you.” He did a loose hand gesture, motioning about his previous actions. “Wouldn’t you say we’re past formalities?”

“How long have you had that?”

“Long enough to know that I want this.” The words hung heavy in the air, exposing his previous lie. As much as I wanted to believe the withdrawal was speaking for him, him having such a thing is not something made in just a moment’s notice of desperation. How long had Jayden wanted to fuck me?

I sighed and walked closer to him, one hand placed on the top of the chair like the AI had, leaning over him. “You are despicable.” I spoke harshly and he only let out a pathetic whine.

“Please.”

His button and zip remained undone, his white underwear made this seem almost innocent. Almost. I slid my hand under the fabric, feeling his wet and hard cock beneath my fingers.

“Ah, fuck.” He whined, jerking his hips upwards to meet the touch. I slowly wrapped my fingers around the girth of it, every single touch made him react like a virgin. “So soft.” He whispered, his hips twitching at the sensation.

“What if our supervisor saw that thing? What do I even call it?”

“It’s you.” He mumbled out.

“It’s not me. I’m me.”

“It’s.. I wish it was you.”

“You have to tell the supervisor about this.” I said sternly. “You’re explaining this to him.”

“Yes, yes, anything, just touch me, keep touching me.” He pleaded.

He threw his head back with a moan as I slowly stroked his length, limited by the fabric. He got the hint and tried to free himself from the tight clothes, lowering them just enough to give me control before his fingers returned tightly to the armrests.

“Good boy.” I purred and he took the fastest double take I’ve ever seen in my life before whimpering, going slightly limp in the chair.

He kept squirming slightly at my touch, writhing against it as his head stayed tilted back. There was a sheen of sweat covering his entire body and at this point, it was hard to tell if it was from me or not.

My hand reached the tip of his cock, lingering there as I gently squeezed the soft head, his body tensed up completely and his head jerked forward to look at me with wide eyes. His lips looked red and plump and his face was a subtle pink. His fingernails dug into the soft plush of the armrests, threatening to rip it to pieces.

“Touch... Let me...” He struggled out between pants. “Please.”

“Go on.”

He didn’t need much permission beyond that, quickly tugging at my white t-shirt, successfully pulling it over my head, despite needing to lose contact, he was being so, so very brave about it. I tugged his jacket off the top of his chair, throwing it around my shoulders to cover my back from the doorway and placing my shirt in its place.

“Someone could walk in. You know that right?” I spoke, wrapping my hand around his aching cock again.

He nodded mindlessly, still a whining mess as his hands reached up to feel my torso, his palms explored as much as he could. He was still meticulous, almost careful to not push his luck despite how unfortunate of a situation he’d found himself in.

“I wanna do so much to you.” He confessed, still mindless, I don’t even think he was aware of the words leaving his mouth as his eyes stayed glued to my body. “Please don’t let this be the only time we do this.”

“Keep it down.” I spoke sternly. His response was merely an incoherent string of ‘Yes, sorry’ and ‘Please, more’, and it was hard to make it out. “Do you want someone to catch us?”

“Yes—”

He quickly let out a loud moan before covering his mouth with his hand, closing his eyes and harshly hitting his head against the headrest. His other hand was still on my body, greedily squeezing what he could.

“You want that to be your first impression?”

He shook his head, keeping his hand tight on his mouth. 

“Or do you want everyone to know I’m all yours?”

“God, fuck, yes.” He finally choked out, lowering his hand. “Y’re so sexy. They’ll want you s’bad, I want you. So bad.”

“You’re pathetic.” I whispered, leaning closer to his face.

“I know.”

“You always like this?”

“Sometimes.” He spoke quickly, opening his eyes briefly to watch me. “Not always.”

My hand lingered back to his tip, squeezing it again, watching him squirm helplessly beneath me as he struggled to breathe, talk or even think. The only sounds that left him for the few moments I kept him like this were whimpers.

“You think about this often?” I moved back to stroke his shaft, harder and faster, getting sick of this taking so long but it was expected from a drug addict.

“Sometimes.” He stammered out.

“Not always?”

He just sighed before a deep moan crawled its way out of his soul. “Ohh, fuck me. Please please please.” He pleaded, his eyes wide once again.

I smiled down at him and he looked like he was about to cry at the sight of it.

“You moan like a pornstar.”

“Y/n, I’m so fuckin’ close.” He whined out desperately.

His hips began to jerk to meet my movements.

“Let me, please, let me—”

His jaw finally went slack and his breathing quickened, he tried to swallow thickly but his throat was completely dry, his hands fell from their places without moving very far, one landed on the armrest and the other desperately clung to the jacket.

“Be a good boy.” I praised and he instantly preened under the words. “Cum for me, Jayden.”

“Oh god, fuck, oh god.” He spoke, slowly chanting as it peaked in volume. It was high pitch and sounded like a squeak as he got faster. “Oh god, fuckfuckfuck.”

I quickly moved my hand to the tip of his cock, catching all his cum in my palm to not ruin his suit, or make our rendezvous more obvious than it already was. He desperately thrust into my hand to finish his orgasm as he whimpered and whined through it.

“You got it. You’re doing great.”

He sighed though it sounded the exact same as a whine as he tried to milk his cock with my hand before slumping down completely.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He babbled, trying to catch his breath.

I pulled my hand away from him, opening my palm to see his mess. I furrowed my eyebrows, unsure what he was even apologising for, if it even was for anything in specific. He squirmed and slightly thrashed against the chair as he tried to calm himself. I couldn’t find anything in the room that I could wipe my hand with, and keeping it open only made him stare into it.

“I’m so sorry.” He pleaded.

“Relax.” I said sternly, shaking my head at him. “Use your words.”

“About the AI, I just—”

“It’s fine, consider it forgotten.”

“It’s weird, it’s creepy. I feel like a ra—”

“Then don’t use it again.” I said bluntly. “This conversation's over, Norman.”

He looked up at me, nodding slightly as he glanced back down to my palm. He wasn’t the easiest to read but it was clear to tell he had a million thoughts.

The door opened and I flinched slightly, turning my head to see a cop walk in, careful to keep my back to him and my cum-covered hand hidden from view, while also shielding Jaydens flaccid cock from prying eyes.

“Carter!” Jayden exclaimed, looking like a deer in headlights, still hiding behind my body.

He stared in silence for a moment, tossing the new file on the desk and turning around and leaving without a word.

“Two things you have to explain to our supervisor.” I said plainly.

I walked past him and found something to wipe my hand on, finding a packet of tissues hidden away. I opened it harshly, as best I could with one hand, wiped off the solidifying liquid and tossed it in the trash.

“You should get your pants on.” I spoke, standing in front of him again, handing him his jacket so I could put my shirt back on.

He frowned. “Don’t act like this. Please.” I figured once he’d came, he’d go back to his usual self, but of course not. He was still vulnerable and I was being a dick.

“You did great, Norm.” I praised softly.

He sighed as he tried to shuffle his pants back on, doing them up properly this time. He tensed slightly, and I tried to sooth it by running my fingers through his sweaty hair. He looked completely dishevelled, and Carter probably had the sight of his life.

“I meant it.” He spoke boldly after a few moments of silence. Despite his scruffy appearance, Jayden wanted his intentions to be as clear as possible. “I don’t.. I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

“If we don’t get fired, I’ll make a note of it.”

[maiackmn]

Sorry to leave a super vague prompt request, but could I would love to see you use 12 from the crying dialogue prompt list with either nines Connor or sixty (or all of them??? 👀)

Okay so I went a little crazy with this request (and as a result neglected many others over the past few days, whoops), but here's what I came up with! I'm pretty proud of it, and am honestly considering expanding it into a longer piece or potentially even a series if there's enough interest :)

Now, a few important notes are:

The rk boys are human triplets.

Hank adopted the boys when they were around five, but took his own life (although that isn't explicitly mentioned, just vaguely hinted at) when they were roughly twenty.

Sixty is mentioned as having abused drugs and alcohol, but does get clean and stay clean (in a sobriety sense, though his hands remain very dirty in the legal sense).

All three brothers are insanely in love with the reader.

This is pretty heavily unedited still, so I apologize for any errors in grammar or spelling, I just know I'm going to be very busy these next few days and wanted to get this out asap.

With that said, I hope that you enjoy!

Home (you)

rk brothers (Nines, Connor, Sixty) x Reader

Chapter I - The Village It Takes

Warnings:

Mentions of drug abuse

Mentions of alcohol abuse

Very vague mentions of suicide (if you squint)

Illegal activities

Pregnancy

General angst

Crying dialogue prompt #12 - "I um... I didn't know where else to go..."

Word Count: 2,797

It was storming something fierce, and you had to fight the urge to flinch as the rain pelted aggressively against the windows of your home, a sudden crack of thunder instantly sending your young son into a terrified fit of tears, hands grasping at the air above him as he searched for his mom.

You let out a soothing coo as you lifted him out of his play pen, murmuring gentle promises of safety as you held him close.

Letting out gentle burbles and scared whimpers, Finley, being only six months old, was quick to lean into your touch, anxious for his mother due to the sudden and frightening external stimuli of the world outside your home.

You hummed a soft tune beside his ear while slowly walking in circles around the room, feeling his breathing slow and his rushing heartbeat return to normal against your chest.

You let out a sigh of relief, continuing your gentle humming until the sound of small feet pattering on hardwood caught your attention and caused you to stop so you could listen more intently, despite the fact that you would recognize those small footsteps anywhere.

Turning to face the hallway, you smiled gently at the little figure that stood there, drowning in one of his father's old shirts, rubbing one of his eyes with a tiny fist in a manner that almost made you tear up at the cuteness.

Damn, postpartum hormones really were no joke, even after six months of re-regulating.

"Mama?"

A small voice called out to you, followed by that familiar little figure stepping out into the yellowed light of the kitchen in search of you, senses still dulled by sleep.

"I'm here, sweetheart. Did the thunder wake you up?"

The little boy nodded in response, approaching you faster now that he realized where you were,

"'s loud. I don't like it."

He murmured, voice sleep laden and confused as he raised his arms to hold on to your thigh, a habit he'd adopted seven months prior when you'd been far too pregnant to pick him up safely.

"I know, baby, I know. Give mama a minute and she'll help you get back to sleep, alright?"

Incredibly patient for a three year old, the little boy, Atlas, nodded, climbing into a nearby kitchen chair as you tugged your baby scarf out of a drawer beside your front door.

Humming the same gentle tune as before and trying not to consider the origin it had, you then made your way over to the couch, laying Finley down before undergoing the process of wrapping him tightly against your chest in a way that was all too familiar to you now that you'd done it so many times.

You almost laughed as you recalled how difficult it had been in the beginning, but once again found yourself desperate to keep those memories at bay.

As much as you loved your boys, it hurt to think of all the moments where you'd been forced to learn something by yourself, without the once familiar warmth of your ex fiance at your side.

Adjusting the scarf ever so slightly and taking care to ensure that Finley's airways were secure, you then turned your attention back to Atlas, only to find that he had fallen asleep on the hard wooden chair he had climbed his way into just a few minutes before.

You smiled sadly at the sight, guilt creeping into your chest as you struggled to fight off the feeling that you had let him down again, neglecting to be there for him when all he'd wanted was his mother.

Still, there was nothing you could do to change that now. Atlas had been getting far too good at self soothing since around the time his baby brother had been born, and as much as you hated it, you knew that you were already doing everything that you could to keep your boys safe and happy.

Bending down, you picked Atlas up with ease, allowing his legs to dangle as you balanced him upon your hip, thus allowing his head to find support on your shoulder, just a few inches away from where his brother was sleeping.

Knowing all too well that you weren't going to make it all the way to the bedroom without waking one or both of your boys up, you instead opted to lay on the couch, head propped up by a pillow as you watched your sweet babies sleep, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as you were overwhelmed for the one millionth time by the sheer amount of love that you felt for them.

Your adoring and all too understanding first born son, your sweet Atlas, the apple of your eye, and your innocent and helpless baby boy, your perfect Finley, the sun in your sky. You loved them more than life itself, and you hated every part of you that couldn't just forget and move on for their sake.

But god, it was all too hard.

Too hard not to notice that Atlas was the spitting image of his father, and that Finley was growing up to be the very same,

Too hard not to cry when Atlas asked where his daddy was,

Too hard not to love the man you once knew, and too hard not to despise the man he'd become for all that he was missing and all that he had left behind.

But above all else, the hardest thing of all was to not know where he was, whether or not he was safe, and what had happened to him.

Text after text to both of his brothers, and missed call after missed call made to him, no one knew where Sixty was but Sixty himself, and he was far too eager to leave you and your children behind to ever answer your pleas for a response.

Eleven years you had loved him, since the two of you had been thirteen year old middle school idiots, and where had that gotten you?

Where had that gotten Connor and Nines?

Left to pick up the slack for their brother to help their childhood best friend stay afloat, despite all of the feelings that remained after all these years.

Where had that gotten Sixty?

Reliving all the hurt, struggling to remain whole, undoing all the years of counseling and growth that he had worked so hard to achieve.

You loved your boys with a ferocity that physically ached, and more than anything you wished that Sixty could be there for them the way that they deserved, but still...

You wished you'd never told him.

Maybe if you hadn't, he would-

You gasped at the sudden sound of knocking at your door, the three successive bangs instantly having you on edge, and immediately causing your two boys to awaken, one very confused, and the other very fussy.

You cursed under your breath, desperately trying to calm Finley down as you attempted to get up, only to find that Atlas was clinging to you in a way he hadn't done in ages, desperate for his mother in his confused and sleepy state.

You briefly considered detaching yourself to make things easier, but how could you do that after you were already so worried over his tendency to self soothe?

What were you teaching him if you left him alone now, that you wouldn't be there even when he so clearly wanted you to be?

Fussy baby held close by the scarf wrapped securely around your body, you let out a slight groan of effort as you lifted your still mostly asleep son back to your hip before slowly making your way over to your locked front door, drawing back the deadbolt before carefully undoing each and every other lock that Nines and Connor had painstakingly installed just a few months prior.

"It's for your safety."

Nines had stated simply, a finality in his tone that would have made you back off if you hadn't long since grown out of fearing him.

Nearly twenty years of friendship (and eleven years of something more) tended to do that to a person.

You couldn't fear Nines if you tried.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you'd sighed while shifting your gaze to Connor, who was screwing yet another lock into your door with precision and care.

He'd smiled and shrugged when he noticed you were looking to him for support,

"He's right, you know. You live alone, you just had a baby, and you have a three year old to think of too. It'll help keep them safe."

Always aware of your soft spots, especially the ones that would have you relenting to he and his brother's over protective actions, you knew that Connor knew what he was doing by saying that, but you couldn't bring yourself to be angry at those caring brown eyes of his.

Just the same as his identical brothers, Connor had been your friend for almost twenty years now, and equally the same as them, there had also been a certain tension that never seemed to fade, even after eleven years of subtle pining.

There was just something about the Anderson triplets that you couldn't help but be drawn towards, and each of the three of them seemed to feel the very same way, in spite of how different they were from one another.

So, when you had initially discovered that you were pregnant as a result of a rather passionate night with Sixty post-engagement, your first feeling was one of excitement.

Your baby would have two incredibly caring uncles to love and support them, because if hundreds of longing glances and overly touchy moments hadn't scared them off prior to you dating their brother, nothing would.

Connor and Nines were there to stay, whether you decided to be with Sixty or not.

But what you hadn't considered was whether or not Sixty would be there to stay.

And initially, he had been.

You could still recall how happy he'd been when you'd told him, the excitement in his eyes and the wide grin on his face as he'd spun you in circles before going on and on about how beautiful your child was going to be.

But what you had neglected to consider, was Sixty's affinity for self sabotage, particularly when he was at his happiest.

How you had missed the signs, you honestly didn't know.

The very thing that had drawn you to, in a sense, "choosing" Sixty, was the fact that he needed the support, the love more than either of his brothers did at that time.

The black sheep of the family, the "bad boy", the scoundrel, Sixty was self described as "badly damaged" by the time he had finally let you in, and it had taken years of counseling and support to help him move on from what he had experienced, and what he had seen.

Because while Nines and Connor had moved on from their childhood, Sixty never had, and the methods he had turned to in order to avoid thinking about it only made everything worse.

It had started with the drinking at thirteen,

which had turned into the drug selling at fifteen,

which had turned into the drug use at sixteen,

which had ultimately culminated in him overdosing that same year.

He had gotten clean at seventeen, after six months of in-patient rehab.

But even still, Sixty had never truly gotten away from the drugs, alcohol, and other illegal activities, no matter how sober he was,

although you hadn't known that until it was far too late.

You didn't know about the dingy little apartment he rented to manufacture drugs in,

or the fake ID business he ran on the side,

or the black market bullshit he did for his main source of income.

And because of that, you also hadn't known about the enemies he'd made,

the fear he had felt,

and the deep shit that he was in.

And then suddenly you were twenty-one, engaged, pregnant, and finding out that Sixty had been lying to you for years, all at the same time.

Except he wasn't telling you in an effort to come clean for the sake of your relationship.

He was telling you because he wanted to end your relationship.

He couldn't be a father, not with the shit he was dealing with, and not with the type of man that he was.

That was what he had told you three years ago.

And it was Nines who had held you together afterward.

Cain "Nines" Anderson, who was nicknamed for the number of minutes he was younger than his oldest brother, Connor, was the last person that someone might expect to run to for comfort, and honestly, back then, you had kind of thought the same.

Years and years of friendship with Nines had yielded an incredibly close relationship, but even so, it was rare that you went to him for comfort prior to your breakup with Sixty. In fact, if not for the fact that Connor had been away at college at that time, you may have actually gone to him due to the sheer number of times he had provided you support growing up.

But looking back on things now, you were glad you'd gone to Nines, no matter what the reasoning behind that was.

From the moment you had called and confided in him for comfort, Nines had insisted on being there for you throughout the entirety of your pregnancy, taking a prolonged leave of absence from his position at the FBI in order to remain in Detroit for ten months.

Hell, he had even been there when you'd given birth (although Connor had arrived only very shortly thereafter, panting and having left his car parked illegally out front in an effort to make it on time), holding your hand and guiding you through each and every contraction the very same way you'd both practiced during the birthing classes you'd attended together.

And just like that, Atlas had been born, and suddenly, everything felt right.

That is, until Sixty had shown up nearly two years later, playing a much different tune than when you had last seen him, begging to see you and desperate to meet his son.

But it had been the same bullshit, but in the form of a note the very next morning, when you woke up in bed, naked and alone.

You hadn't been surprised.

But you had been "knocked up" (as Sixty liked to call it) for the second time, by the very same man who had neglected to stick around the first time around.

And instead of Nines, it had been Connor who picked up the pieces of you after that happened

Sixty had vanished into thin air, begging you not to try to find him, and Nines was off on some mission in Europe and was impossible to contact, but Connor had been there from the moment you showed up, shaking and terrified, at his doorstep, positive pregnancy test in hand.

He had somehow known it was Sixty's without you having to say a word, and had simply pulled you close before kneeling down in front of your son, asking if he wanted to play with Sumo inside.

Now officially back from college, Connor was following in he and his brothers' late adoptive father's footsteps and working as a detective.

"Hank would be proud."

You'd murmured while laying with your head on his lap that night, and you'd felt him give a soft nod in response before he thanked you for saying so, voice strained by tears, remembering the man who had raised him so kindly until he just couldn't anymore.

And now, as you stood here, pulling your door open and revealing the soaked man on the other side, you couldn't help but think for the one millionth time that Hank had left this world far too early.

Because standing on the other side of that door was Sixty, shivering from the cold as he stared at you, eyes wide and so apologetic that it almost hurt.

And you couldn't help but wonder if any of this would be happening if only Hank had stuck around a little longer.

If only Sixty hadn't taken his absence as abandonment.

But he had.

And now he was here, standing on your front doorstep, sopping wet and staring at you and your children with those beautiful brown eyes of his, so full of longing and sadness that you had to bring a hand to your mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to break through.

"I um... I didn't know where else to go..."

And then, without warning, he collapsed at your feet.

[maiackmn]

Home (you)

rk brothers (Nines, Connor, Sixty) x Reader

Chapter II - Raining, Then Pouring

Warnings:

Mentions of suicide

General angst

Slight physical violence

Mentions of injury

Nines is a handsy guy

Word count: 4,232

"Are you alright?"

The voice on the other end of the line was strong and steady, but you could hear the underlying fear within it, the sharp tone that always signified panic in the ever familiar youngest Anderson triplet.

Your teeth worried your bottom lip as you suddenly realized that you didn't actually know how to answer that question, and you were only forced out of your thoughts when Nines spoke your name, his tone now just a bit more tense and his words taking on a stern bite to them that you were all too familiar with.

"Yeah I uh... I'm okay I just..."

You trailed off, sputtering slightly in an attempt to find the right words as you shot a glance back towards your bedroom, where your two boys were currently sleeping due to you having deposited them there shortly after Sixty's impromptu arrival.

The door was open a crack so that you would have a better chance of hearing if either of them woke up and needed you, but you felt yourself bristle a bit in discomfort over the fact that they were in there all alone while your attention had to be elsewhere.

"You just what, Trouble?"

Nines asked calmly, his casual use of the nickname that he and his brothers had given you back when you were all just thirteen making you feel slightly less overwhelmed.

Nines was right there on the phone acting the same way he always did, and the world was still turning. You weren't dealing with any of this alone.

"I uh..."

You trailed off once more before allowing your eyes to make their way over to the front door, which was still slightly ajar, allowing the occasional raindrop to make it's way in and splash down onto the tiled floor of your kitchen.

Well, if it was managing to get in here, then how bad was it out there?"

You sighed a bit, running a hand through your hair as you nervously attempted to finally force the words you had been so desperately trying to say past your lips.

"Your brothers here, Nines."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few moments, and then a few faint yet familiar footfalls told you that Nines was walking somewhere. These footfalls were followed shortly thereafter by some light rustling, though you weren't entirely sure what the cause of that was. And then, finally, the youngest brother spoke up again.

"When did he get there?"

He asked, his tone now lacking that brief calmness it had possessed the last time he'd spoken.

You smiled at his eagerness to get straight to the point, and gave a slight chuckle of amusement into the receiver.

"What, you aren't even gonna ask me which brother I'm talking about?"

You teased lightly, sitting yourself down at the kitchen table in an effort to calm yourself further.

When Nines responded, you could almost hear his eyes rolling, and his tone, while very slightly amused, had that familiar twinge of annoyance that you'd come to know so well over the years.

"You're calling me at 1:37am on a Wednesday morning, I don't have to ask which brother you're talking about."

He said as matter of factly as possible, his attitude making you smile a bit wider despite yourself.

It was far too easy to bother this man for his own good.

You were just about to reply when he spoke up again instead, his words close to as steadfast and firm as could be.

"I'm on my way over now. Would you like me to call Connor so someone can be there with you sooner?"

You nearly rolled your eyes at your friend's constant insistence on babying you, but couldn't help but be endeared by his kindness. How anyone could possibly think this man cruel, you didn't know, though you'd heard it said about him by plenty by coworkers who had known him in the past.

"I'll be alright, he's not even awake."

You answered after a few moments of thought, only to hear Nines give a brief scoff in response,

"And when has that stopped Connor from coming to your rescue before?"

You gave a short laugh at Nines' choice of words, remembering the way that he and Sixty used to tease their eldest brother for constantly trying to be your "prince charming". It was like a competition between the three of them back then, a game of who could be there for you the most, as if that would make one of them your favorite over the other two.

It was different now, but not by much.

"It hasn't, but I was actually talking about Sixty."

You clarified, amusement evident in your tone as Nines gave a slightly surprised sounding hum from the other end of the line.

"He's sleeping?"

"Passed out. Don't worry though, I didn't let him hit his head or anything. I know the drill."

You muttered, hearing Nines sigh discontentedly just as the sound of him starting up his car filled the once silent background of the call.

"Well you shouldn't have to. I'm going to text Connor so he has the option of heading your way if he happens to see the message, but I'll be there in twenty minutes. Call me if Caiden wakes up before I arrive."

You gave a hum in the affirmative, wrapping one of your arms around your body as you looked out the window to see the rain pounding on the pavement of your driveway.

"Yeah I will. Drive safe, okay?"

You tried to hide the anxiety you were feeling to the best of your ability, but must have failed pretty terribly, because the next time that Nines spoke his tone was far gentler than you'd heard it be for the entire night thus far.

"Of course, Trouble. I'll see you soon."

And with that, he hung up, always so eager to avoid saying goodbye that he hardly even bothered to anymore.

He'd told you that none would ever be adequate enough to bother with shortly after Hank had taken his own life, and Nines had done his best to go without saying any ever since. Maybe some part of him believed that if he just didn't say goodbye, then he'd stop losing people so easily.

You sighed and closed your eyes, leaning your head back as you tried not to think about what loss had done to the four of you over the years.

"Ugh, I knew I should've tried harder to get him in here on my own, he's soaked."

You muttered, arms crossed and hugging your body tightly as you watched Nines drag his brother into your house, his forearms underneath Sixty's armpits as he backed himself easily through your front door and off to the side a bit before he laid his brother down on the hard tile of your kitchen.

"I'm sure he was soaked long before he got here. He'll be fine."

Nines reassured you tersely, his tone tense with what you imagined was anger and frustration as he looked down at his older brother with a familiar harshness to his gaze.

You wondered what the first time he'd looked at Sixty like that was.

You hoped this time would be the last.

But you knew it wouldn't.

"Well we can at least put him on the couch or something,"

You began, taking a few hesitant steps closer to the intimidating man and his unconscious brother,

"It isn't right to just leave him on the floor like a dog."

Nines shook his head immediately, squatting down beside his sibling to give him a brief once over for injuries as he spoke.

"Just like you said before, he's soaked. It'll ruin the fabric."

Adequately convinced that Sixty was without any severe injuries, Nines stood, looking you in the eye for the first time since his arrival a few minutes prior.

"Besides, he's not nearly far enough off from a dog to be worth the effort."

You rolled your eyes a bit at the familiar man's dramatics, knowing all too well just how fond he was of dogs when he wasn't too angry at his brother to care about the double meaning his words took on.

"Whatever you say."

You muttered, shrugging the disagreement off easily. You didn't have it in you to argue tonight, not after everything that had happened.

You stood from where you were seated, taking a few steps across the room to lock the front door, only to wince a bit on your first step back towards the table afterward, a movement that instantly caught Nines' attention.

"You're hurt."

He stated easily, his arms uncrossing as he reached out to take your shoulders and guide you gently back into the chair you had previously been sitting in at your kitchen table, his gaze intense as he stared down at you once you finished getting comfortable.

"What happened?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you slid your foot out of your slipper, frowning slightly at the sight of the bruise that had begun to form on top of it.

"Something had to cushion that ridiculously big head of his."

You muttered, avoiding Nines' gaze as you gestured toward his still unconscious brother, who looked rather peaceful in spite of how he had gotten to where he was now.

Nines sighed in response to your answer, but accepted it nonetheless, kneeling down before you and gently lifting your foot by the ankle to get a better look at it.

You watched him for a few moments, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and counting the barely noticeable freckles that adorned his nose and cheeks as he inspected your injury far more thoroughly than he had bothered to with Sixty's.

When he finally looked up to meet your gaze after a little while of this, you didn't look away despite how obviously you'd been staring, instead choosing to tilt your head slightly as Nines began wordlessly using one of his hands to run the pads of his fingers across the skin of your ankle. With his other hand, he moved upward, gripping your calf loosely and caressing the skin in that area as well as his eyes bore holes into you, the feeling of his skin touching yours making you shudder slightly, something you were sure he took notice of.

Eventually, without stopping his gentle exploration of your ankle and calf, he looked back down to your foot, humming softly as he examined it further.

"It's just a bruise."

He said quietly, eyes flickering back up to your own,

"It looks like it'll be sore for a few days at least, but it should heal just fine on its own."

You nodded at his words, eyes never leaving his as you reached for the hand that was moving slowly up and down your calf, as if he were worshiping the very feeling of your warm body beneath his soft palm and slightly calloused fingertips.

Nines stopped all of his gentle movements immediately, remaining still as you moved his hand from your calf up to your face, pressing your cheek against it and smiling at the familiar feeling of his thumb stroking slowly along the skin there, as if he were trying to memorize every detail.

You relished in this sensation for a few minutes before reaching down to palm his cheek within your own hand, smiling softly at the way his shoulders visibly relaxed at your touch.

At that, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his as you moved to take his other hand in your own, squeezing it softly.

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had last been alone together, always with the kids or Connor, and even though Sixty was so close by, you couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate Nines' presence.

"I love you, you know."

You said matter of factly, a taunting lilt to your tone that you were sure would have Nines rolling his eyes if only they were open.

He pulled away gently, removing his hand from your own in order to place it atop the one that was on his face, allowing him to move it away as he continued to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

"I have absolutely no idea how or why."

His words seemed more for himself than you, murmured so softly you could scarcely hear them, but even so you felt the need to respond nonetheless.

"Because you deserve it. I don't know what I would do without you."

Nines chuckled humorlessly, though his tone was still kind as he spoke,

"Probably call my eldest brother even more often than you already do."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, and you did so with pleasure upon hearing his words.

"Oh shut it. No one triplet could ever replace either of the others. You know I love all three of you."

Nines hummed at your familiar adage, that humorless chuckle of his coming back with a vengeance once more.

"And that is the most confusing thing of all."

Nines countered, moving his hand up to play with some of the hair near your forehead before he brushed it all backward and away, standing up while remaining bent at the waist as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a slightly amused twinkle evident in his eye as he did so.

"How you could love not one, but three disastrously broken and undeserving men is a wonder beyond me."

His voice now contained that same teasing lilt you had used against him before, only you didn't find his words nearly as amusing as he appeared to.

Still, you allowed him to continue, following him up as he straightened out, soon finding yourself turning with your back to the table as he moved the chair away and stood where it had once been

"We won't ever be worth all of the unrest that we cause."

He muttered quietly, his hands moving to your hips and briefly remaining there for a few moments before he gently lifted you up and placed you atop the table, no doubt in an effort to get you to stop standing on your freshly bruised foot.

Always so observant and considerate of your needs, and yet still blind to all of the good you saw within him and his brothers.

You frowned at his words, finally opening your mouth to correct him when you noticed the way his gaze was trailing over your body, eyes flitting down to the hem of your oversized shirt, one of Connor's from his trainee days, as it grazed your upper thighs, before allowing said gaze to move upward to rest upon your lips, until finally he was looking you in the eyes once more.

You felt your breath halt at the emotions you found within your shared eye contact, noting the anguish, fear, anger, and hunger present all within that one look.

Nines was always holding himself back, never moving forward quite as fast as his brothers did, especially not within the past few years, but even so, you never failed to know exactly what he wanted.

"You can kiss me, you know."

You whispered, voice steady and devoid of any and all hesitance as you spoke.

"You don't have to do this to yourself."

You felt Nines shudder in response to your words before his hand moved to tilt your chin upward slightly, his eyes moving over every inch of your face as if he were committing each detail to memory.

Eventually though, after what felt like ages of waiting on your end, he began to lean in slowly, until he was so close that you could feel his breath fanning familiarly against your lips.

It had been so long since he'd last given in and let himself feel loved, several months at least, and you fought off the urge to wriggle anxiously in anticipation as you placed your hands upon his shoulders, eventually moving both of them forward until your arms were looped around his neck.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, silent save for the sounds of slightly heavy breathing, until finally Nines shook his head, as if he were in disbelief.

He pressed his forehead to yours once more.

"I'm sorry."

And with that, his mouth was on yours, gentle and coaxing and so incredibly soft as he moved one of his hands to the back of your head, cradling it as you leaned back and pressed your torso firmly against his own, one of your hands moving to palm his cheek again as you did so.

You had no idea how long that kiss lasted, but what you did know was that when it finally reached its end, it was because of the keening cry that came from the other room, instantly forcing the two of you apart.

Your breaths came slightly heavier as you looked up at your friend, cheeks dusted a light pink and lips subtly bruised.

"Shit."

You muttered under your breath, placing your hands on either side of you to push yourself off of the table only to be stopped by Nines, who simply quirked his brow, shook his head and leaned down to press one final kiss against your lips before he pulled away slightly and allowed your noses to brush up against one another briefly as he spoke,

"You deserve so much better than even all three of us combined, Trouble."

And with that, he moved away from you entirely, taking long and practiced steps down the hallway heading towards your bedroom.

The crying stopped just seconds afterward, flooding your home with a brief, but overall welcomed silence.

That is, until a voice spoke up from your left,

"He really is good with them, huh?"

You jumped slightly, giving a light squeak of surprise as you pressed a hand against your fluttering chest, as if trying to physically force your heart to slow down.

Sixty, clearly no longer unconscious, was now sitting up on your floor, hands slightly behind him as he propped himself up in order to see down the hallway that his younger brother had just walked through.

It was only then that you registered his previous question and began nodding slowly as you also looked off into the hallway.

"Yeah, he really is. Connor too."

You muttered, wrapping your arms around your torso as you tried not to think too hard about just who you were talking to in that moment.

Sixty chuckled from his spot on the floor beside you, and you just barely resisted the urge to look over to see if his smile looked the same way it had the last time you saw him.

As beautiful and brilliant as ever.

"Well of course Con is good with them, no one ever thought he wouldn't be. Nines on the other hand? I don't think anyone ever thought he'd be interested in the whole family thing."

At that, you turned to face your ex fiance, arms still wrapped protectively around yourself as you looked him directly in the eye intentionally for the first time all night.

"And what about you?"

You asked softly, unable to stop yourself despite knowing what little good that question would do you.

"Me?"

Sixty asked, the chuckle that left him this time around just as humorless as Nines' had been earlier on.

"I think I ended up exactly the way that everyone thought I would."

His expression remained joyful as he spoke, but you could see the anger and pain in his eyes in spite of that, and you felt yourself reaching out to him unconsciously.

"Si-"

"Caiden."

Nines' voice far outmatched yours in volume, and you immediately turned to face him, your hand pressed firmly against your chest once more at what felt like the one millionth sudden intrusion of the night.

However, because of this change in your focus, you never noticed the way that Sixty's gaze neglected to move away from you, not even for a second for most of the time that his brother was speaking.

Nines, on the other hand, was all too aware of this, and was glaring daggers at him even as he continued to talk, the baby on his hip a stark contrast to him as he giggled and cooed contently.

"Do you have any good reason for being here right now?"

Nines questioned, watching as his brother shrugged, his gaze still unmoving even as he replied.

"Not really."

Nines rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly,

"So you just came here in the middle of the night to disturb your friend and her children?"

He asked, his tone venomous.

It was this question that finally got Sixty to look at him, anger evident in his eyes.

"Excuse you, asshole, but that 'friend' is my fiancee, and last I checked those kids are mine too."

He all but growled out, hands clenched into fists as he continued to lean back on them, his upper body just mere inches off of the floor, as if moving forward any further would've taken too much effort or caused him some great pain.

Nines broke out into harsh laughter,

"Oh but is she? Are they?"

He asked, his voice raised as loud as he could manage without disturbing Finley, who was now distracting himself with the buttons on his uncle's shirt.

Sixty glared daggers at his brother, sitting up further upon hearing his words, as if it would make the venom he was about to spit at him more impactful.

"Well she damn well isn't yours, and neither are the kids, are they Nines?!"

He shouted, and you watched as the look in his brother's eyes changed from anger to hurt to hatred in seconds, matching those of his older sibling in all but color.

Sixty seemed to see this too and immediately began laughing cruelly, the smirk on his face so large it was impossible to ignore

"Fuck, that really bothers you doesn't it? You hate that I actually got to say she was mine, and you can't fucking stand the fact that both of those boys are mine too."

Sixty paused to chuckle darkly, and you honestly thought for a moment or two that he was wise enough to stop there after seeing the rage in Nines' expression, but then he just kept going.

"Aww is someone mad because he wanted to be the one to put a ring on her finger and fuck his kids into her? Can you not fucking stand it when you look into Atlas' and Finley's eyes and see me instead of you?"

He paused to cough into his fist, groaning slightly afterward, though that borderline malicious grin never once left his face as he did so.

"Well guess what dip shit, there's nothing you can ever do to change it!"

He continued after a few moments, his eyes burning with a type of rage you hadn't seen him experience since childhood.

But if his eyes were scary, than Nines' were petrifying, slowly filling with this cloudy haze that you were sure couldn't be good.

"You weren't fucking perfect enough, she didn't fucking choose you, and no matter where you go or what you do you'll never be able to change that fact. Those kids are better off with her and her alone and you fucking know it!"

At that, Nines let out a low growl, gently handing you your son before taking two long strides toward his older brother and reaching down to grab him by the front of his shirt, yanking upward until Sixty was sitting fully upright, causing the man to visibly wince as Nines spoke cruelly and clearly, his voice never once faltering.

"No Caiden, that's just what you tell yourself at night so you don't have to admit out loud that it isn't the rest of us that they're better off without, it's just you."

Sixty immediately swung his right fist up towards his brother in response to his venomous statement, but Nines easily grabbed hold of it, forcing it back down to his side as he glared heavily into his eyes.

You held your son close to your chest, watching on in horror until finally, the heavy hate-filled silence was too much, and you opened your mouth to beg them to stop.

Just as you did though, there was the sound of a key entering a lock, and then the door swung open, revealing Connor, whose eyes immediately widened as he took in the sight before him.

You thought he was just going to tell them that they needed to stop the way he used to when this sort of thing would happen, but instead when he opened his mouth to speak, he said something different entirely.

"What the hell did you do?!"

He asked urgently, rushing over to wrestle his youngest brother off of the other before he cursed and pressed his hand against Sixty's side, which you could now see was bleeding profusely, staining his gray t shirt a sickening shade of dark red.

Connor then turned his attention towards you, his expression apologetic and pained as he spoke,

"Sweetheart, I need you to call 9-1-1 for me right now."

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