#rk800 60 x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blurredout10 · 5 months ago

Text

Remember To Follow

A Sixty/Reader Story

Tags: angst, amnesia, smut, memory loss, drowning, angstfest y'all stay safe,

Wordcount: 7360

Summary:

Sixty has Amnesia. He wakes with water in his lungs and the panic of an apartment he doesn't recognise. Sixty has Amnesia and he doesn't know you.

But, you vowed to follow him when fitting his wedding band on your special day. Even if he doesn't remember, you'll always follow him. Until...

"I'm done. I can't follow you anymore."

And in the darker weather, thick soot falls from black clouds, a weight that stretches the scales on his chest--the air suffocates him as does the truth.

The Earth pulls at his feet, shying away from where his footprints dusted over; baby leaves, the stir of deeply rooted wildlife tease into a growing distance, his shoes shaking off remnants of the ground once stepped. A distant memory.

It’s truly an inch away, where his ankles flail to meet the grasps of gravity and he fails. The image of the forest floor blurs together—it’s not shrinking, he’s flying—and desperate to find ground to gain root, he’s chasing something that can only brush his fingertips. Even if he savours the taste a little, the contact doesn’t imprint, barely licks his skin but not long enough to register it. He’s losing something, but it’s too far away to recognise it, and some third force urges him to dent it into his chassis as does the scar on his forehead. It's fleeting, tasteless when he forgets again, as if he was clawed hollow, ripped wires and shredded organs.

The ache stills in his shoulders, then churns to his elbows which he tries to knock out into open air. It’s desire and want and it’s everything he can no longer have. His breath delays.

Air puffs and clouds, and then cohere into bubbles that faintly cage his image before floating high. His brows tense and then furrow, wrinkling lines of equal parts confusion and frustration, before he wrenches an arm high to chase his mini image. He passes through cold nothing, his eyes cannot find it and it strikes him that he can’t remember just what he reached for. It’s all take, take, take.

He flies. He floats. The space around him grows dense. Cool air rushes into deep water.

The sea wraps him snugly, perhaps to make up for whomever's arms ghost around his chest - but the latches aren’t comfortable, they're unsafe and work to suffocate ventilation. There's only so long he can sink, so long the reserves in him squeal an exhale before his systems encourage him to break through the surface.

Warnings flesh as blaring red rectangles; he ignores it. He's waiting for something. A reason? An answer, to why an ugly, icky tumour clenches his palms shut, why he can't get rid of the feeling as much as he tries to stretch it away. The water swishes when he turns to his hand, expecting some creature to claw from beneath his skin, blame it for why his mind blurs when he thinks.

The sea is quiet; it dulls stimulation. Gives him some veiled excuse for ‘time’. It's why he enjoys it.

His chest tightens. His systems caution him further, overheating. It's an abysmal discomfort, but strangely cathartic. Wheezes muffle into the water but he hears it no less, feels how biocomponents sear in a mockery of pain. It's too loud, it hurts in the part of him he misses.

He blares crimson. His chest burns. The surface serves as his bright light, deep rushing currents and beeping warnings a choir for his funeral, and the sea will be his grave.

A boat passes. A canoe. Chatter muffles but he can make out two distinct voices. One hauntingly similar to his own and the other… he... can't quite... who...? No, he’s sure he doesn’t recognise it. No face to that sound. No lips to that mouth.

The sea edges him to the surface for him, bubbles that lift him with tiny limbs, pushing past surface tension until he floats. He’s hollow, it only makes sense how the sea lays beneath him.

Why does his body feel different? Why is there a one-way mirror fitted between somatic and internal, between instinct and thought?

Why does he feel longing ?

The surface tickles his lips, velvet soft, it reminds him of... his mind halts. Chest pulling in a cooler touch, he still feels a strain around his ribcage, a lie and truth meddled into a fluid mass. He chases the flash of... something tries to fill it in his lungs when he breathes in deep. His fingertips brush his lower lip and they feel prickly, new. No lips to that kiss. The warnings recede but his vision clouds still.

Something touches his hand. Stings, rather, like rope burn. Sears into his framework like his hand drove through a shredder. A thread weaves and gains purchase tight around his fingers, projections into cobwebs, but this time, it holds.

It's a fishing line, though it doesn't seem to have a handler, nor a place of origin. The line tangles and pulls taut around his hand. Crunches his plastic like day-old snow. It doesn't snap. It doesn't escape him.

And Sixty remembers.

There is no coming of sunshine, no beam pushes through that doubling storm, no spread of saturated colour when every memory muddies into one. It circulates and spirals him with a force harsh enough to stretch his skin thin and puncture vessels—tears him like a damp paper towel, watch it loosen and break away in wet chunks. It's impenetrable to light, for it absorbs it until light is no more.

Outlines form in dark space, meshing golden edges into one another as they layer per memory—like his mind spins on an axis, catching the clutter of reconstructions into something sensical. Sounds are out of sync, mouths of faces—he cannot name them—speak words he hears seconds later. Pressure finds stubborn fingers against his temple where he’s gripping tighter, as if to keep a fractured mind in one piece. It helps momentarily, but it’s an illusion of strength.

It hurts. It really does. Like the layers of him are spliced an inch apart, like his eyes could fall right out of their sockets, like his limbs could spring apart without reason.

He's lost in the nothingness of himself, forced in the corner to be pelted with memory upon memory until it bruises his skin for good - and for once, hoping it'll last. Choppy flashes of yellow that resemble some unnamed figure, wrap their fingers around his artificial brain, squeezing until he cries in paralysed anguish. He contorts in pain, it rubs harshly against his throat but carries no sound.

It makes him want to scream.

But his grip on the fishing line tightens.

The blood that rips from his fingers and the water coalesce, blurring the borders between the shades of blue. If the water exists as his illness, maybe his pain is fated to be forgotten.

And oh, how he burns. His blood is acidic and thaws the plastic that pumps it, cursing the rest of his body to a poisoned end. The screws in him rust to a hair's width. Sixty's the pieces of him that fragment in his memory.

Broken. Aimless. Nuts and bolts in a sack of simulated flesh.

The water latches on his ankle and pulls him far harder than he can hold on.

“No!-” Static twists his voice in a stray note, duly muffled by the water, a nodule in his throat he can’t cough out or swallow down. That desperation fills his lungs alongside the water, an unwelcome weight, but it jogs some corner of impulses in his android brain.

Struggle slips into gargles within the lake, locked in pockets of air, unmoving to keep his struggle unheard. Panic nestles in his joints as he is dragged faster, his kicks are clammy and desperate but useless from the unforgiving fingers of kelp. Seaweed shackles curl around his ankle tighter, pulling him closer to the ocean floor. His fingers fumble with little progress.

Colour evades the deeper he falls, remnants of the moonlight serving as a fleeting solace, a light at the end of the tunnel that Sixty is maliciously rejected. It's ironic, how the near-black expanse he's pulled into reminds him of something. The ghost of feathered lashes, The pressure on his chest punishes. Something audibly cracks in him.

Sixty takes to mouth something, his lips shaping a vow, a plea to the prison bars, and a familiar voice echoes on the tips of his hair.

“To never forget,” blurred lines of fading memories lose definition. Unravels in the wind, thread that's fallen loose from its clipboard, gathering dust with little memory of where it’s from or where it goes. Seaweed pulls him undeniably fast.

His hands fall immobile, hopeless, unsure. Defeated.

That feeling in his chest remains. That memory of sheer fear still knocks his bones, still tickles an itch without scratching it. But the panic, the bruises on his body fade inexplicably, where the vow curls around his tongue... what was it again? Why were his fingers slashed due to force that only could've been his own? Sixty's desperation tremors in his hands but his reason is long gone.

Thud.

Sixty hits the sea floor. Sixty becomes a shell of a man.

There is no panic, no fear. Memories have been abandoned, lost at sea. A hard reset makes Sixty's eyes look inexplicably hollow.

His arm solos above him but the night silently watches through the water. Down here, Sixty knows that nothing exists besides the vegetation that binds him low.

-.—.-

Daybreak bleeds between his curtains that fan the dull walls of his bedroom a better gold. The sun peeks at him boldly, this time without clouded company and its promise of a fleeting shelter. There was no escape.

It's like the sun has found him now, searched in a land untouched until he made the mistake of half-drawing his curtains to watch the moon last night.

Ambient rumbling of motors whine from the open window, birds scurry and sing in flight like little leaves caught in the wind; a solemn sense of consonance merges the bustle outside to an optimistic backdrop. It fills the space with warm adoration.

Ha! I knew I'd find you! The sunlight mocks with a childish cackle. A painful eyeshot of a blinding day makes him flinch. Sixty muffles a groan into his cotton pillow, rumpled bedsheets that felt a little too like…seaweed?

Sixty scrambles to his knees.

The day is anew, but the android feels cuffed to an undefined torment of the past, a crushing weight of the entire ocean converging to a singular point above his pump regulator. It restrains him so, like a timid hand pulling at his sleeve to return to bed and stay a little longer. He can’t quite decide whether it’s the ghostly touch of supple fingers or binding kelp pulling at his wrists.

What is he even thinking about? Sixty scoffs at his break in hysteria. He must be losing it. What the hell was going on anyway?

Sixty clasps his fingers around his other forearm unprompted, his thumb pushing into the autonomous ripple of the synthetic epidermis to the white shell of his android anatomy. He drags his palms proximally to his elbow.

He’s in a white t-shirt, crumpled akin to the bedding as if it were taken from the bedsheets themselves. Sixty pulls a fistful of his top; the wrinkles stretch and converge to sharper lines. His shorts are long and loose. Sixty pats his body crudely to feel if he was really half the person he felt.

The android runs a shallow scan of the space around him. An apartment? Decor looks to be thrown about without rhyme or reason, the hard floor littered with crumpled clothes and springing plants on cramped shelves. Bright yellow post-its look to be placed at random; one juts out near the pots with black scrawl that barely passes for eligible writing:

"Water every Tuesday. "

It’s a Tuesday.

Sixty pulls in air with a mechanical wheeze, though the space in his chest shrinks as it grows. A pathogen lives at the base of his lungs, one that gnaws at his inner workings with cannibalistic curiosity, digging its fangs to feed and multiply as a means to raise its young. Sixty can feel it moving inside him, but he’s limited to scratching helplessly at his diagnostics, nails scraping bits of white off his plastic thorax.

What the hell is going on?

Sixty keels over. His midriff spasms into a painful flurry of staggered breaths.

Was he not dead?

Sixty tries to recall, but all that meets him are razor edges of battered pictures. The pieces belong to an uncertain figure, one without eyes or lips, a memory true if he was to see it one more time. It’s a bitter reality, with no one to show him what he’s missing, no one to kiss away the infectious sting of doubt lining his vessels. He’s alone in feeling it clot and occlude sanity’s door with a final blow.

The more he attempts to recollect the pieces, the deeper the memory cuts. Sixty stops trying.

Time has passed, years , if he was being specific. The seasons have swept on shore and pulled far into the sea, tidal in that it changes before Sixty found a moment to appreciate it. Though mostly indifferent, Sixty can’t help but grow curious of his kind and their place in busy streets.

Does he stand alongside them? It took no detective to see he had established himself, so was this life really his own?

What was going on?

Sixty searches for the one who shares the likings of his identity. One who he scoffed at with the barrel of a gun back at the Cyberlife Tower. Perhaps, as with deviancy, he has the answers.

There he sits with company, laughter on his lips, dressed in a tan, woolly overcoat that drapes largely off his shoulders and brushes the pavement. It’s far too big, neither functional, for his standard build, and despite the odd calamity of ‘whatever the fuck was happening’ to Sixty, Connor looks as though he belongs. All temple LED and android awkwardness, he pieced effortlessly into the background.

Sixty isn't quite sure why the fact surprises him, that much he figured in the earlier turmoil of the time skip; from the moment of his fatal deviation and the current day, everyone moved on.

Sixty feels the same.

His hands dig deeper into his hoodie, fingers crumpling the post-it that served to tie the frayed ends of his questions. A stark yellow with a near-dysfunctional sticky back from sticking it on the wall again and again.

“You have amnesia. This is your house.”

The scene fans out in tones of autumn kisses and raining leaves, where the sun relishes the sky in a longing embrace before parting for a lengthy slumber. A rotten taste finds the base of Sixty's tongue; it's ironic, as the sun, Sixty knows this miracle is ephemeral.

His predecessor is fortunate, but what does Sixty know about the turning days, because for him, yesterday existed and nothing more. His mission . The gunshot . The spark of fear between the fired bullet and Sixty's definite demise.

For Connor, however, time was a plentiful gift, wrapped in a pretty pink bow with a note of gratitude.

That timid bounce of perfectly parted hair looks fresh with product, a snug knitted pullover dressing him in near-black blues and oranges, and fingers warm around a cafés coffee mug. Sixty fixes on the pointless thrumming below the blue patterns on the rim of white ceramic.

There's a gold band on his finger; something brief twists in the cogs of Sixty's chest though he struggles to point just where its core lies.

"Connor," the successor hesitates, an awkward distance to count as conversation but close enough to catch the surprise in the predecessor’s eyes. It lapses for a moment, mirror images locked onto the other before Connor softens to a knowing look.

Passing a glance to his partner, a soft nod that spoke terribly loud for a quiet autumn afternoon, Sixty can't help feeling the distance within himself grow. The confusion he woke with grips the wheel with unprecedented curiosity.

"Do sit," Connor gestures an easy hand to the empty chair next to him, "we have to catch up."

His name is Sixty, formally. Sixty , he tests the sound of it but it doesn't quite strike the way he expects it to. It misses something, an edge, or a lilt that matched the serenity of rippled water. Sixty , or perhaps it's his voice that can't quite string it the way it's supposed to.

Hood raised and hands deep in pockets, Sixty idly walks without a destination in mind.

The sun is too bright, albeit setting, and he scoffs for a quicker nightfall; just as he wishes to settle the intensity of his new life and bask in the dullness of ignorance again. Perhaps, it was better if he did not know this was the life shackled to him.

Remnants of the falling sun cough out the last of its light into the coming night, like the speckles of streetlights blurring in a distance, impressionable but not dominant. It's how Sixty feels about the world around him, the breeze against his skin, the mindless chatter of passing crowds. Reality cuts through him like streaks of rainwater on a car window, and he's following it down with every will for it to stop while he catches his breath. The yellow parts of the sky are far too bright.

He can't quite shake it off, the nagging truth of his sunken sense of identity and an apartment full of sticky notes.

Sixty passes a bookstore. He catches his reflection in a golden light and stops. Amnesia.

He’s angry. Was he fated to await the moment he forgets again if only to relive the shock of waking up in a strange bed in a strange apartment that’s supposedly his own?

Chocolate stares back at him. His hair is tousled, and his clothes swallow him whole. He’s unrecognisable. Sixty sees beyond the glass window.

People meddle in happy heaps, whether stamped with a temple ring light or not, all warping in their perception of the world around. Fingers edge out to take a book in hand, read the contents, engross in the feel, blinking with the living condition to experience until they cannot experience anymore.

His feet move autonomously. People brush past unceremoniously as he walks in. The bookstore is packed. His hand pulls at a book between colourful stacks, unprompted.

It’s busy. The air is thick with age-old literature and wafts of perfume from the collective. Sixty focuses on the embellished lettering of the cover and swipes a thumb to let it print in his mind in an attempt to remember it.

The title sticks to his lips far better than his own name.

‘Remember To Love.’

He’s never held a book before. He’s not done much of anything before. Not that he can remember it anyway. A dry laugh huffs out of his chest; the title delivers an ugly stab of irony between artificial ribs but stings as though the pain was lowly human.

Chatter fades. The door jingles frequently as crowds work to replace those who left. Was this the consequence of being conscious? To live on such a plane off-kilter from faces around, coded with a curse to bear it alone?

What was the point?

"You know , if you open it, they'll be even more to read. "

Sixty startles, which itself encourages another considering his exclusive knickknacks would've noticed anything and everything in his surroundings. Maybe he isn’t all the same.

The first thing his optics fall to is that smile and its easy curves. The cracks in your lower lips are a novel sight, akin to the veins of autumn leaves.

A human has spoken to him. A human . In friendly conversation. The shock on his face must be nothing short of picturesque. Doubled at how long he figures he’s been standing awkwardly, staring at a book’s cover.

Your head tilts, patient in his stunned silence with a glazing edge in your pupils. A gentle curiosity locks his way, slack bait hanging off of a fishing line. It doesn’t pull him closer to you but doesn’t let him fall too far behind. Sixty fails to formulate a response.

"That book is pretty boring actually," you exasperate with a dismissing flick of your wrist, "too much drama, not enough action, if you know what I mean."

What?

(Not even preconstructed responses can save him.)

In a stolen moment, your brows hitch in sync with your chest but are swiftly replaced by the exaggerated smile of a guiding angel, or that of a child’s favourite mentor. Warmth that favours a mother to a lost kitten in broken alleyways.

"You look like it's your first day on Earth," you chuckle lightly.

This feels like too much.

You say your name. It pokes at the base of his heart. You wait expectantly for his reciprocal.

"Sixty." He says. It sounds foreign still.

You smile brighter, like the sun that woke him with a giddy 'I've found you'. Something is fizzling in your eyes. Android curiosity scans it again and again.

You cock your head to the world outside, "want me to give you a tour, Sixty?"

You say his name. He follows you like it’s the easiest thing he’s done today.

The sea meets him once more.

-.--.-

“Your name is Sixty. You have amnesia.”

The lettering is imperfect, surely it cannot be his own.

A scoff splutters akin to a wet gargle, as if the sea floor that chained his corpse liquified his innards into coarse crackles. The whites of his eyes are inexplicably growing just as his resolve shrinks.

Is this a fucking joke?

The furniture feels the brunt of his anger.

Whatever the hell was happening had to be some sick ploy, a malicious scheme to punish Sixty's nihilistic pre-deviant operations. A bladed jab for every objective he itched to pursue. Kick him whilst he's down.

Connor must be behind this. He has to be. For that crumpled edge in the corner of his eyes that seeped in the reflection of red temple rings, it must be that android's petty, subordinate revenge for Sixty using his Lieutenant as bait.

The apartment must pose as a means to mock his sorry state, to brandish his failures in the solid confines of solitary punishment. That wretched copy and his all-emotive facial plate ; Sixty digs his heels as if it were twisting on that Connor's neck, itching for the leeway of the first crunch and those staggering, desperate breaths that would follow.

Amnesia? Sixty remembers well how his chassis burned with a brittle shake. Sixty remembers the looming spark in the back of his head urging him to pull the trigger. Dealing with that sorry sack of alcoholism for a police lieutenant was enough of a pain...

Sixty falters.

The memories play the same though he feels another character is in play. Disembodied, yet latching on his back with wet tendrils like it wished to become an extension of him. Sixty cannot wield it like a limb, but it voices the contortions of his pump regulator just as well.

You disappoint me, pathetic fool. It sears, speaking for him when he's coded a mouth sewn shut.

Sixty slowly dips his head, letting his eyes catch on the palms of his hands.

Something's off. He's missing something. Even with the added ghoul that makes all his mistakes and fills the cracks with reason... he's carved hollow.

What the hell is going on?

Weeks pass and tides pull him back in.

-.--.-

“You have amnesia. Your name is Sixty.”

He slams his fists in fearful proximity to his pump regulator, straining stridor amidst harsh coughs as if his insides scurried to escape him. There is no water in his lungs.

The seaweed remains cuffed as he seeks answers. What's happening to me? Someone sits just over an arm's length across a desk from him, eyes peering over meticulous glasses as if they'd cost him a component to afford. White coat in faux medical aid and a personal office that did its best to sell Sixty of the man's competency. A professional, albeit human, but one who has the answers he's looking for.

However, when the man falls in conversation, Sixty drifts in the dull expanse of clouded memories. His mind pulls from the foreground. The former technician bobs his chin repeatedly that doesn't quite look like talking; Sixty can neither hear nor recognise the shape of those words.

The android's fingers tighten on the armrests, digging into the peeling vinyl and its spongy abscess. In its opening, creatures with spindly legs crawl up the back of his hand, biting through synthetic skin to the burrows of Sixty's flesh. The android is unable to draw air into his chest.

They crawl with needle-like legs. Sixty can't move. The mounds under his skin crawl faster. Sixty's voice has no weight.

Subject to the horned teeth that staple his plastic makeup with spotting blue blood, Sixty is paralysed. His eyes grow. They crawl up his neck.

He wants to scream. It's all too much.

"Would you like some help?" A faint voice offers behind him whilst he stands idly in a grocery store. The shelves stock unforgivingly in blinding variations of colourful foods, neither that would settle for appetising nor their exploited prices. Why the hell is he looking at food he can't eat?

Sixty regains his breath but his feet don't move. Snacks stretch in favour of a distraction. He finally turns to the voice that jolted him back; the eyes that meet him are the closest he's felt to his feet on the ground.

"Are you curious about our snacks? I've got recommendations if you're interested." You play a small smile, but the lift in your brows and the glaze in your eyes never settle.

It's strange. You're a face amongst many though he feels like the centre of yours. You look as if you've rushed to catch up to him.

" Su-" he croaks and then clears his throat, "sure."

And the water takes him again.

-.--.-

A crumpled paper ball of a tennis ball-yellow is stuffed in Sixty's jacket. He squeezes it tightly until faint marks indent on synthetic skin.

He's out of breath, but he can't find you.

Audio muffles by the overlay of memories, merry tinkles of your laughter, the shape of your voice snug in the space that felt hollow. Sixty runs through the streets in search of it again.

The line pulls taut. All he can think about is finding you. The water calls him back but he surfs the crowds instead.

You must be here. Sixty is in search of your head in the many. His phone has run dry, posing his feared reflection with all the desperation to seek. It's all going wrong. He just needs to find you.

The line loosens, tides rush to his ankles but Sixty pushes on. There must be some way. Someone you're with. Someone who knows you. But the existence around you splits into shaky pieces, uncertain and incomprehensible. He can't let that line go, not when it's finally in his grasp.

It's a losing battle.

-.--.-

"You have amnesia."

Why does he feel so exhausted?

The days spur on. The note. The chase. The staggering step in when he remembers your outline. Warmth leaves him every time his head falls in his hands, bound to the curse of reliving what cannot and will never be his.

Fate is a cruel feat. Sixty stands by the shore and waits for the tides to rise.

"Sixty. You have amnesia. I love you."

As he wakes up from a thrashing slumber, he notes the absence of kelp on his wrists. The memories spring up like hollow balls in a body of water.

He remembers everything; nothing tops the crushing guilt of having you wait so long.

The note. The pulsations under his fingers when he rests a hand over his heart. The hitch in his breath when the smell of your skin revisits his senses.

Water fills his lungs anyway.

"Your name is Sixty. This is where you live. You have amnesia."

The note. The chase. The reality.

The fate of the sea floor.

"This is your house. You have amnesia."

How can he accept the path fate carves for him?

"Your name is Sixty. You have amnesia."

How long is he supposed to do this?

"This is your apartment, Sixty. You have amnesia."

Sixty digs through the balls of yellow paper in his waste bin.

"You have amnesia."

They're all notes.

-.--.-

"You have amnesia. Your name is Sixty. This is your home."

There's a knock at his door.

In the tattered assortment of piling memories, never really starting or finishing anywhere as if they were pieces ripped out from the middle, Sixty exhales and opens the front door.

"Hey," you speak as such too, like the middle of a memory, wet lines down your cheeks with questions of why and when . Your voice is small, enough that he could roll it in his palm like one of those balled pieces of paper in his trash can.

Instinct makes him step back to let you in, but not enough to speak to the stranger of his new life. Your lower lashes clump wetly, the tips of leaves edging the stream of rainfall. You tighten your jaw.

There’s a mass that sloshes in his vessels the longer he looks at you, though he’s not sure what to call it. It’s weighted, mobile in the way it keeps knocking the wind out of him like a soccer punch to a little boy. Your eyes are wide and Sixty knows what to call that strain in your expression; it's hope.

Speak, his subconscious commands, bobbing his jaw open without knowing what to say. Your tears glisten freshly yet hold firm. Willing the world to halt so Sixty could take all the time in the universe to finally say something.

Do I know you? But something urges him to not ask. Seeing the wild nest of your hair and swollen eyes drives all his impulses to the ground except for one; muscle memory lifts his hand closer to you in what could feel like the most natural thing he's done in the past few weeks he's awoken.

But he falters halfway.

Sixty isn't quite sure why he let you in the first place, let alone why he entertained the thick glass between the two of you like he was breaking the walls of deviancy all over again. There is nothing of the sort in your scanned details to enrapture him, nothing to stop him from asking you to leave his apartment. You must be one of those people who existed in the lost parts of him, waiting expectantly for him to return.

It's been twenty-six days since he woke with no recollection of who he was or why he was here. Twenty-six days, though according to Connor, this charade had dragged beyond dozens of times over three years. Twenty-six days of his neighbours conversing like they intended to invite him to their weddings, twenty-six days of loitering faces, gazing at him pitifully.

'What a shame, isn't it? It's no way to live.'

Sixty died every time he forgot. The version they long to keep has slipped into the high tides for its ocean grave. Ironic, that he is misunderstood as some copy of an android that shares his liking. How bad must it be for Sixty to actually appreciate Connor's lack of prodding, despite still carrying that coiled resentment pre-deviancy?

You stand in his living room, hair thrashed, clothes dishevelled, cheeks warm due to friction with the knocking scent of alcohol. You're searching for a piece of him that doesn't exist. Even if your very presence calms the unstable writhing of his components, his mind has been made up.

A light sound escapes you, sounding like the huff of a cry, until it croaks again into a chortle. It's pained; Sixty can measure it in amplitudes, and your laughter rings on for a few more before a heavy sigh.

You're laughing? The smile you flesh out doesn't quite reach your eyes, except you look a taste manic with those damp and dilated pupils. It's wildly unexpected, and Sixty pulls up short; it throws a wrench right into his thoughts.

"You know ," you begin and Sixty snaps to the brittle notes of your voice. It's better than your laughing, "despite you being an android, I somehow feel like the one who's immortal."

You chuckle a little more, tilting your head back. It shakes your shoulders and takes you wholly.

"I really want to hate you," you don't look at him, "I really do. I want to more than anything. A right old sock to your face."

You glance at him before fixing to the plants on the tiny shelves. Sixty's silence stretches on.

"I didn't come here to fight. Or to get you to remember. I'm surprised you let me actually. Lucky day for me, huh?"

The android's pump regulator stutters. He feels as though he is not there.

Tension disperses from your joints as if they had lost against gravity and slumped in major defeat. The sag is paired with a staggered sigh. "I've been honouring our vows, Sixty. I really have. Even if you..." you sound raw, static, "even if you can't- aren't able to. I've been trying for so long. "

Vows? Vows. That's why you're here. You were married to that version of him lost at sea, not him, not him . The memories you search for have been driven ashore, photographs paled by the kicking currents of the ocean. Those memories have been worn out, faded. Sixty feels the loss like it's his own.

Tears fall irregularly and Sixty watches you cry with a churning in his chest... it's not quite guilt, nor the tickle of envy, but a combination of both. He knows if he asked you to jump, you would leap with all your might, but it doesn't belong to him. It's the same tickle of envy he felt when Connor's memories became his own.

Your love does not belong to him. It is not his. Perhaps, that is why the grief doubles in around his pump regulator.

"I'm tired, Sixty ."

It's not his. You're not his. The pain sears harder than before.

"I'm done. I can't follow you anymore."

It burns. The wires he'd tangled to fasten his resolve loosen unapologetically. He doesn't know why it hurts. Why is he mourning ? Why does grief bite his breath away in mock gentle kisses? It's alternative to the sour kick of the sea floor, doesn't quite slosh in his mouth in salt and muck as he expects. Instead, it solders his metal tubes into a spoiled clump, an acrid impression he can't swallow down or wash out.

The android feels hot despite being cold to the touch. In the few weeks of his new life, Sixty has never longed for the bits missing this hard before.

Twenty-six days. Your tears trickle but the pinch in your brows settles. You're the first to let him go. God it fucking burns. Why does it feel as if you'd packaged all of your hurt and gave it to him? The layers of glass between you two shake.

He can't breathe.

The glass cracks one by one. A hand clutches his chest; it's his own. Another plane of glass shatters. Your outline grows sharper.

Is this what he went through every time he remembered? This oppressive weight subject to twisting his joints all the wrong ways, pushing his eyes far back until they were lost in his own head. He feels like he's going insane.

Water crackles in his lungs.

No! Wait! Not when he's this close.

He steps to the few layers of glass you stand behind, a distance only he could see beyond the broken memories he'd cast at sea. Sixty's fist pulls back and lands solid and true.

Another plane gives way.

He punches again, mimicking how he first broke through the cage of his android walls. It burns too much. If this is his way forward, if he has to step up where you step back... he lands another blow.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

It's almost see-through. The fishing line tightens around his fist with a definite hit. Crack! You're here. He sees you. Every note you left behind before kissing his forehead, thinking he was long resting. Every smile you chased him with despite rejected the reciprocation. In each of his fragments, for every time he forgot again, you followed close behind as the fellow pedestrian with a shared umbrella; the one who poked at him in a bookstore, the one who took him to the midst of Detroit river with a valentine's gift, fitting a silver band with the memory of your vows.

You're here. Sixty keels over. You're not following anymore. Sixty strangles a cry.

Warm arms slot him into the bubble of comfort only you can instil, kneeling in front of him to pull him tight. You're letting him go.

Please. He's only just... Not now.

You're not following him anymore.

"I love you, Sixty." Resonant for his chest so hollow, the vibrations of your voice linger like he was brandishing it into his steel skeleton.

You're not following anymore.

Sixty doesn't recognise the cries he lets out, the coughs he splutters to desperately rid any traces of ocean floor. He doesn't sound like himself. It's animalistic.

"I love you so much." You whisper between his breaths. God, he loves you too. Even if he forgot, his body remembered, at home in your love.

He loves you hopelessly, and he knows that means he must let you leave. For if he cannot fulfil his vows, you can't carry both halves in his shadow all by yourself. It's inevitably wasting you away. A pitiful curse, written as stars, to exist in the same sky but only catch the tail end of each other's light.

It truly hits, the tragedy of those balled-up notes, how they pile beyond measure with traces of foreign teardrops. Sixty clutches to you as if he were to break apart if he didn't. He feels pathetic. Small. Rotten in his biocomponents. He's a shell of a man, though he is full of the memory of you.

"I'm sorry," you speak into his neck. Sixty his head to encode the colour of your eyes. His thumb finds the edge of your lips, a supple and soft shape that would no longer smile at him whenever he looked over his shoulder. The android takes a moment amidst his breakdown to look at you if it's the last thing he'd do. The stray hairs around your eyebrows. Your cheeks, damp and tinted rouge. Your skin, smooth but textured, perfectly human.

Sixty finds that your features make up for his flaws.

I really love you. I love you too much.

Your lips meet naturally. Complete.

It's salty; whether from the looming threat of amnesia or the combined tears of the truth spilt, Sixty laps lavishly with his desperate tongue. To consume you through and through because it's in his hands now, to find you and take you back when he can, and lift that drawn-out burden off your shoulders. He can love you this way, even in times he doesn't spare you a second glance, doesn't recognise you in the crowd of many. Sixty kisses with the promise of finding you again, his vow, for when he doesn't forget, he will follow.

The android carries you with a heavy heart, slotting your bodies in the effortless flow of nature. He relishes in the gentle flex of your back under his palm when he lowers you into bed, lips never leaving yours.

He shuffles your clothes slowly, savoringly. Water riles up his throat. Sixty breaks away from you for the first time, taking to pressing tender kisses from the tips of your fingers, on the ring you still wear, up the soft expanse of your forearm.

The sound of impending tidal waves sing distantly.

"Let me carry the vows," he says low, broken like he hadn't spoken in weeks, "even if I forget..."

Tears fall off the tips of your eyes.

"...I'll follow."

" Sixty ."

You pull him to meet your lips again, tonguing in the language that speaks best. Your palm on his chest feels the racing beats that you saw in his eyes. You can also feel him spluttering too, but he makes no reaction to it.

Clothes strip at a languid pace. The urgency is heavy in the air but neither of you intends to rush things.

Forehead resting on yours, Sixty coats two of his fingers with saliva and dips between your legs, sharing the breaths you spill to take as his own. Your thighs flex at the newfound stretch, taut around his waist. He curls just where you like it.

The breathy notes you moan, the pinch in your brows, Sixty records them deep like an embellishment. A printed image of you on the surface of his artificial brain. He'll chase and chase just to see you like this again.

If only to make up for how long you've spent following him, Sixty can't begin the imagine the hurt that would've festered over the years. To catch your lover's eyes and have them look away confusingly, unaffected, where you itched for the moment the lightbulb struck and he loved you again. Fate was cruel, for the gift of sending such a person like you to him, and stringing the both of you out like parallel lines, only meeting when one breaks through the rules of their reality.

Lips mark the line of your jaw with traces of his tongue; your pleasure is perfected like it were the easiest thing for him to elicit. Your whines ring higher and faster and all Sixty can do is watch.

"Come for me," he rasps in the small space, transfixed on the fine contortions of your pleasure-drunk face. The android dips to kiss hard yet chaste, "I'll always make you come for me."

The night is lasting. Even though the sun has set, you've still found him beyond the horizon and splashed him anew. Your leg is pinned to his chest, foot over his shoulder whilst he paces himself to the glorious cacophony of your reactions. He's not quite worked you up like this before, in any of the passionate, urgent bed-rutting he's previously taken to, because despite the looming reality of his amnesia, he feels like he has all the time in the world.

Long, full thrusts to repeatedly remind you of his presence, even if fleeting, will always return. Sixty juts particularly hard and your nails scratch his abdomen with a pornographic wail. It drives him wild.

Sixty drives you to the brink again, selfishly pulling orgasm after orgasm for the solemn depths of his mind. He needed to take everything he could. The bed creaks loudly, meshed in the lewd sounds of his hips snapping against yours. Sixty squeezes your hand until the ring on your finger makes an indent on his plastic shell.

You plead for the sweet release over and over again. Until your eyes roll back, driven to the recesses of your mind with a pathetic range of vocabulary, not that Sixty would want it any other way.

The ocean calls him back, lapping at his knees. Sixty kisses you again and again and again until he feels numb.

' To never forget ', Sixty tucks his head against your neck, grunting loud into your ear whilst he fucks you until the early hours.

' And to always follow ,' you pant together, his hands cradling your face, and the words are left unspoken.

They ring loud anyway.

I'll find you.

-.--.-

The day praises Sixty's bedroom with a flurry of golden light. The birds chirp young and free, reminiscent of little children in a playground. Sixty wakes with salt in his mouth.

A note dangles from the wall above, Sixty twists his neck back to read the perfect letters.

"I have amnesia. I'm married. I will find her."

#dbh sixty #sixty x reader #rk800 sixty #dbh x reader #Connor-60 x reader #dbh fanfic #y'all I forgot how to write I swear #writing #dbh

27 notes · View notes

foxyarchive · 6 months ago

Text

Glass in the Ocean[P1]

After your grandfather's unexpected death, you find yourself temporarily living with your grandmother until she can find someone else to help her run her shop.

You, and everyone else, have always been taught not to trust mers. Even with this information, you find yourself drawing closer to three mers who have kept themselves hidden from the local populace for years, now. The closer you grow to them, the more you begin to learn about them, and the more the truth begins to unravel.

Was originally supposed to be just some steamy fun times with the boys but I got carried away so there's plot now so it may move a bit fast :,) Hoping for weekly updates!

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Mention of family death, almost drowning(not really though)

Words: ~5.2k

Tags in the comments! Ask to be added to the taglist!

P1 | P2 | P3

The ocean had always been a force of nature you were afraid of testing your luck with. Tumultuous tornadoes or shrieking storms? Terrifying, sure, but nothing that really got the hair standing on the back of your neck quite like the thought of being lost to the yawning expanse of the sea. There was still so much that was unknown about it, after all. Not only that, but waters were extremely dangerous when filled with such a variety of life; Intelligent, too.

Sharks were an issue to those who couldn’t keep to themselves. After all, they preferred to stay in their own waters, away from beaches where pesky people invading their space roamed and swam. Jellyfish could be terrifying in their own right, too, along with any seals that happened to be swimming too close and feeling a little too irate at those in the waters. All of those animals had one thing in common, though: Intelligence. Although the creatures held enough intelligence to make decisions of their own(and most were much smarter than humans assumed), most of them acted on instinct. They didn’t purposefully go out of their way to ruin your day, unless something spooked them enough to. Perhaps they were feeling a bit peckish as well– It’s only natural.

No, the ones who purposefully sought a chance to absolutely fuck over your entire life were the mers. Cruel, intelligent creatures that loved to see nothing more than the suffering of landwalkers. They would pretend to play nice with you, inviting you in with the allure of wanting to learn more about yourself or the world beyond sea; Those that could speak the common coast tongue, at least. It was rare to find a mer who could actually speak any coast tongue, besides a couple of keywords; Namely, those were something like, ‘Help!’, or, ‘Save me!’. Another luring tactic, besides their ethereal looks. Mers were beautiful creatures in the eyes of many. Flawless skin with long, sleek, shimmering tails. It could be easy enough to trick humans into coming closer, and those allured enough fell right into their trap.

Most mers only had their claws, inhuman strength, swim speed, and fangs, though. Thank God for that, as the very rare, known as ‘sirens’, had the ability to actually put some under a spell. Well, scientifically, it wasn’t actually, technically a spell. It wasn’t quite magic, after all, but the song apparently made chemicals in your brain flood enough dopamine to lure you towards the sensation. A heady, hazy mixture of lust and a false sense of security. Any sirens that were caught out were usually killed on sight. Not all mers were immediately killed, after all. Despite the fear humans had of them, and the staunch irritation, there was a certain balance to the ecosystem to be had… And certain prices to pay for killing a member of a pod.

All in all, everyone was taught not to trust mers. You weren’t excluded from this, but you never found yourself taking all of these warnings too seriously just because you had no desire to go swimming in the ocean. Any beaches made specifically for human points to swim in were always well guarded by eco-disruptors, and even the occasional patrol boat set with a spear. Anything else beyond that, though? It was a risk to swim, especially alone. Luckily, some areas were less densely populated with mers, which made them booming vacation spots.

You happened to be visiting one of those areas, but not for vacation. It was a more somber occasion, unfortunately, which would be followed by some work. Your grandfather had just unexpectedly passed away, and you were going to attend the funeral. Thankfully, your job allowed you to work from just about anywhere that had internet. Your grandparents had owned a small shop together after they retired to the coastside; A cute little building with beautiful glass blown and shaped figurines on the boardwalk. It had been something your grandmother loved doing, and you knew that closing it was the last thing she wanted to do. However, you knew she couldn’t keep it open herself. So, then, you decided that you’d help her out for a while until she found somebody who could work with her.

You weren’t an expert in glass blowing or shaping, by any means, but you’d done it a few times before with her. She was going to take on the brunt of the molding, and you knew you’d only really would need to help with holding and blowing when necessary. It was something you could do between your actual job, so why not?

It had been a long time since you’d visited the coast; At least, right up on the edge. Your grandmother had her own little house right along the coast, as did many others around here. Something your grandfather had managed to snag years ago, when you could practically buy homes with bubble gum and paperclips. The home was well maintained enough, even if it could use a fresh coat of paint and some reinforcing in parts of it(namely the balcony, some of the wood sagged just a bit too much). If you were handy at all, you’d probably offer to take it on as a side project when you weren’t doing glass blowing or your actual work, but you didn’t trust yourself in the slightest.

The service was early in the morning. You had driven in the night before, shacking up with your grandmother in the spare bedroom, which you’d come to call home for at least the next week or so. Probably longer. After the service, there had been the reception, which left you rather stuffed full of food, tired of mingling with family you hadn’t seen for a long time, and just tired in general. Getting here had taken a lot out of you, and it wasn’t every day you were so social. It was nice to see some family members you hadn’t seen in awhile, and swapped cherished memories of your grandfather. By the time it was all over, though, you were exhausted. Your grandmother was still out, and your immediate family had invited you to come peruse the town with them, but you declined, too tired. Instead, you headed back to your temporary home to take a nap so you could have dinner with them later in the evening.

Eyeing the bed as you undressed from your funeral wear, a sudden idea crossed your mind. Peering out of the window, you took in the warm, inviting sky. Blue with fluffy, wispy clouds, you decided on a whim that you would do something you hadn’t done in a long time: You’d go sunbathing. This place was free of mers, after all. The beach was totally safe– Maybe except for some crabs and birds, but you doubted anything was going to come pinching or nipping at you. Decidedly, you put on your swimwear, grabbing a towel and large brimmed sunhat. After lotioning, you put on some flipflops, walking down the small pathway carved into the cliff, down to the beach right outside of the house. It was a quick walk, even if a little unsteady due to the uneven nature of the stone’s cutting, but it was worth the price to have easy access to the beach.

You walked a little ways from the staircase, opting for some privacy should anyone return to the house early. Last thing you wanted was some annoying cousins throwing bits of plants or rocks down on you if you were right by the staircase. There was a decent sized overhang a good distance from the stairs, forming an alcove, and although you didn’t move to lay under it(you were trying to sunbathe, after all), it offered you some sense of security for whatever reason. Maybe due in part to it technically being ‘shelter’. You rolled out your towel with a flourish, putting your flipflops aside as you settled down with a sigh. The ocean was still a good fifteen feet from you, and you doubted the tide was going to be rising up anytime soon.

Already beginning to feel more sleepy due to the sun’s rays beaming down, you decided now was as good of a time as ever to finally get some rest. Laying back, you popped your earbuds in, flicking on a playlist. After turning it down reasonably enough, you took a moment to admire the gleaming beast in front of you. It stretched out far beyond your vision, sparkles shimmering atop the vast deep blue. The waves were gentle, foam softly curling up onto the beach, free of any clutter or weeds. A serene smile pulled onto your lips, and for a moment, you thought about possibly swimming later. It was something you rarely ever did, ocean or not, so… Why not do it now that you’ll be local for a bit?

That was definitely later, though. Right now? It was nap time. You laid back, placing the sunhat over your face so the sun wasn’t glaring right onto your closed eyelids. You just hoped there wouldn’t be a significant difference in tan from your face on the rest of your body. Any worries about that quickly vanished as you dozed off, lulled by the sound of your music, encompassing heat, and the faint sound of waves rolling in the distance.

—

You weren’t entirely certain how long you’d been sleeping for. You didn’t wake naturally, either. The reason you had begun to stir was because you felt droplets on your legs. The comparing cold drew you from your slumber as it continued, making you grumble and shift. It stopped, briefly, and you just assumed that there had been some spray carried by the wind. As you began to drift off one more, it happened again. It felt a little more prominent this time; The drops were fatter, and definitely more annoying. Then, there was more, and it managed to spray across your stomach as well.

That’s when you finally sighed out, deciding that the wind was not on your side. Grumbling, you spread your arms, back arching in tandem in one long, delicious stretch. A moan of appreciation left your lips, and you found the stretch was so good that you were briefly left winded afterwards. Opening your eyes, you peered up at the sun, grimacing as you held a hand up to shield your vision from it. Wait. Weren’t you wearing your sunhat? Did the wind sweep it away? You took a moment to rub your eyes with the heels of your palms, before sitting up, scanning the area when your vision cleared.

There were two concerning things, immediately. The first was that you did see your hat, beginning to be pulled along further and further out to sea. The second, much more concerning thing, though, was the creature that was partially washed up on the beach.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You scrambled, hastily, to your feet. Or, well, you tried to. Your ankles had gotten caught up, tangled in your towel, causing you to just plop right back on your ass in the sand. The mer partially lounging let out something that you were certain was a laugh, and you weren’t sure whether to be cross or terrified. A mix of both, perhaps, as your eyes landed back on it. It– He, you were certain– Was partially out of the water, looking quite lazy. Well, if at least one thing was true about mers, it was their beauty.

You were certain this was the most attractive creature you’d ever laid eyes on. He was lean and muscled, skin lightly sunkissed in a sense where he had a faint tan, but still didn’t seem quite as tan as you’d heard other frequently breaching mers were. His jaw was sharp, and so were his cheekbones, and he had this roguish, very handsome smirk on his face as his eyes met with yours. They were a beautiful, alluring umber, adding to the gorgeously tousled mop of hair atop his head that was a slightly lighter shade. Although all of that was most certainly attractive… You found your eyes trailing downward, taking in the sight of his tail.

Long and slick, you couldn’t see all of it, as half of it was still submerged in the water. What you did catch, though, was that his scales were a glossy navy blue with a pretty pattern of blue yonder interrupting them. It was then you noticed he had some scales on his ribs, as well as on his hands and cheeks. It didn’t make him look any less unattractive, though, and was it weird that you kept referring to him as attractive? Probably. He was a mer, but damned if he wasn’t hot. You didn’t even notice that his lips were moving until you spied the faint activity out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t hear him, earbuds still softly playing music.

“What?” You asked after you popped them out, trying to clear the haze from your mind that you convinced yourself was definitely shock and not anything else. He looked amused, lips curling up further, revealing a set of slightly sharpened teeth.

“I said, if you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Oh, God, he’d totally caught you ogling. He didn’t seem to mind, though; In fact, he was practically preening under the attention as he turned onto his back, stretching out his lithe form. His tail curled up from the water, briefly, and you caught sight of the beautiful fin at the end; Long and elegant, but still webbed and strong enough to where you were sure he was a formidable swimmer like his kin. “I can pose, if you’d like.” He turned his head to the side, accentuating his delicious jawbone, and you noticed now his ears were a bit pointed at the end, scaled as well. Your cheeks immediately heated up, and you found yourself stammering, trying to assure him that, no, you weren’t going to take any pictures and you totally didn’t feel super attracted to a mer.

Before any of that came to your lips, though, a sudden realization hit you: He was talking to you.

“Y… You speak coast tongue?” You asked, a little astounded. That was so rare for mers, especially in areas where so few of them resided. Apparently, there had been less than five spotted here in the past six years, which meant that there were none. And yet, you happened to find one on your first day here, and he spoke your language? What were the odds?

“No.” He replied, rolling onto his stomach. You noticed a small fin on his lower back that shivered a bit under the ocean’s breeze. He rested his head on his arm, drawing a pattern in the sand with slightly webbed hands as his eyes took you in. He looked like a big, lazy, content cat. Not a care in the world. There was another flash of merriment in his eyes as he noticed your confused expression, before he gave another soft laugh as you realized he was fucking with you. They really were intelligent beings…

“That’s your hat out there. Right?” He asked, pushing himself up with an elbow, jerking his head in the direction of your floating clothing article. Stupefied, you blinked, merely giving a nod of your head. You didn’t trust your words. Was this a dream? “I can get it for you. If you’d like.” You didn’t know how to respond. All you knew was one thing that kept creeping up in the back of your head: Never trust a mer. This was literally all the signs of a mer trying to garner your attention and lure you in, from what you recalled. Looking alluring. Playing nice. Asking questions. This was the biggest red flag if you’d ever seen one.

Clearly, he could read the hesitation on your face, and he let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I don’t have to. I was just offering. Is it so wrong to want to be nice?” Your gaze hardened a bit, and you brought your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. He was still a good fifteen feet away from you. Even if he tried to advance on you, you were certain that being able to run was in your books faster than he could drag himself ashore to you. Well… Mers did have inhuman strength, so… Maybe that wasn’t quite out of the books.

“Okay. Go get it.” You finally agree, suspicion still heavy in your gaze as you take in his facial features. He looked a bit smug, before rolling over once, and then slid back into the water. Once he was settled in it, he was gone with a whisper, and all was quiet once more. Your gaze found your hat, much further now than it was before. Nothing was happening… Nothing until you blinked, and it was gone. You looked around for any sight of the mer, spotting nothing until you saw the faint glimmer beneath the waves. He broke water as quiet as a mouse compared to the rolling of waves in the distance and on shore, your now sodden sunhat in his hand. You frowned a bit at the sight. “You had to drag it underwater?”

He seemed wholly unimpressed with your comment, frowning himself, a faint look of irritation crossing his features. “You’re welcome.” Is what he replies with, scoffing as he holds it out in front of him whilst he pulls himself back onto the shore. The perturbed look on his face is quickly replaced with another grin as he spies your hesitation. “...If you want your hat back, you need to come get it from me.” He purrs, waving the sodden article in your direction. You grimace, feeling annoyed at the proposition. Of course. That was his game.

“I’m not an idiot, you know.” You bite out, and he sets the hat down, tilting his head to the side. He has this adorable curl that crosses over his forehead with a few other strands.

“I never implied you were.” He responds, smiling peacefully, and you glower.

“Obviously you think I am, though. As soon as I come over there, you’re just going to drag me under with you. No shot.” You insist, and he clicks his tongue, offering an unimpressed roll of his eyes.

“Really? Come on. I wouldn’t do that.” He insists, rounding his eyes in what you assume is supposed to be a more ‘innocent’ manner. “Why would I go all the way out to retrieve your lovely hat, only to immediately kill you? I think you’ll look lovely in it, wet or not.” He purrs again, curling his lips up once more, and your scowl deepens.

“That was hardly a swim for you.” Comes your flat reply, body prickling in uncertainty. “It'd probably be the easiest meal you’d ever get.” “Please, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want to eat you; I’ve already had lunch.” He narrows his eyes, and you shudder softly against your will as you notice the more carnal look in them. “...Unless, of course, you’d like to provide me with a treat. That would be probably the best ‘thank you’ I could get.” You consider that he really is talking about ravaging your body, until you realize his eyes are pointedly staring at your crotch between your pulled up legs. Then, his eyes travel to your lips, before meeting your own. A sudden heat travels through your body that leaves you holding a breath. He takes the opportunity to shift forward a bit more, and that immediately brings you out of your stupor.

“J-Just throw the hat forward! Please…” You ask, voice trembling a bit from the combination of soft lust and fear crowding your mind. “Thank you for getting it, but I… I can’t… I don’t trust you. Surely you understand.” You insist, one of your hands coming down to grip the towel. His lips come to form a thin line, and you’re not so certain the dark look in his eyes is as lustful as it was before. Your time is definitely up, now, and you quickly scramble to your feet. You grab your earbuds, phone and towel, beginning to walk back the way you came, but his voice stops you.

“Wait!” Looking back, you see that he’s tossed the hat a couple of feet from him, and he’s pulled himself back just a bit. His tail is further in the water than before, he’s peering at you, gaze brighter than before, but definitely more unreadable. “...I understand your distrust.” He relents, and you hesitate for the third time this meeting, uncertain if you should take the bait. You still had the advantage on land… Is your cute hat really worth risking your life, though?

You look back at him. He’s just watching you now, a sort of benign curiosity over his own features. Maybe… He was just as curious about you as you were him. Clearly he’s had contact with humans before, though. He wouldn’t be able to speak otherwise. This is all a trap. You convince yourself, body stiff as you consider what to do next. You could just order another one… But it was perfect for here and now. You could just buy more in town, though…

You consider that your life isn’t worth risking over a hat. And yet, you find yourself placing your items on the ground, your feet slowly inching towards the wet article. The mer watches your every move, head low to the ground, and your eyes are following the way his tail twitches beneath the waves. You look at his hands. He’s rested his head on them now. That assuages some fears… Maybe he really wasn’t going to do anything. Was he so bored that he just wanted to see you closer? Use you for amusement? Perhaps. That wasn’t the most egregious sin, though…

You’re finally close enough to the hat, slowly bending down to reach it, as if trying not to spook him. He doesn’t move. You grab the brim, slowly bringing it up. For a moment, you find yourself just looking at him, and he’s looking at you. He’s even more gorgeous close up, now that you notice all of the little freckles and imperfections that dot his face. The only other ‘imperfection’ you could find, if you could call any of it imperfect(which you really couldn’t), was the small scar gouged into his forehead.

For once, instead of fear or any sort of weird arousal, you feel… Awe. This dangerous, beautiful creature sits not five feet from you, drinking you him as you do him. He has a sort of boyish charm to him that is enough to make you test your own willpower and suppress yourself from reaching forward to brush your fingers through his hair. Comb back those hairs that curl in front of his eyes, brush your thumb across the beautiful scales on his cheek bones…

Seems you’ve been enthralled, and you’re not quick enough to move as he suddenly lunges and grabs onto your wrist. You cry out in surprise, molasses quickly turning into a rapid stream as you try to pull away, but he’s strong. Dear God, is he strong. “I helped you. The least you can do is return the favor.” He finally speaks up, and that look of wonderment that was in his own eyes has vanished. He looks smug like before, smirk planted as he tugs you a bit closer.

“P-Please, let go!” You cry out again, trying to wrench free to no avail.

“I just want one, little thing, then I’ll let you go. I promise.” He insists, leaning up a bit, his eyes flashing with that same dangerous intent as before. When he was looking at you like you were his next meal. His ‘treat’. Another shudder wracks your body against your will, and you bite your lip. “Just a kiss. Only one. That’s it. Please?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes rounding a bit into something akin to a puppy. Oh, no… That was awfully convincing, especially with that heat still in his eyes.

Okay. You had been a fool once, shame on you. But twice? You were not going to die here today. Most certainly, no kiss was worth dying for, and you knew better than to trust his words, now. His grip was painful, only because he was strong, but he didn’t claw at your arm or wrist, thankfully.

“...If you let me go, I’ll kiss you.” You finally said, quietly, heart thundering in your chest. He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, eyeing you to try and find any deception. Finally, he pushed himself up a bit more, giving a small incline of his head in agreement. Slowly, he released your hand, letting it come to rest in front of his chest. You were so very grateful that the Lord had granted you the strength to go through with your plan and resist that very kissable face.

As soon as he released you, you turned on foot and fled. Or, that’s what you tried to do, but he was so fast. He grabbed onto your ankle, jerking you back, and you fell with a painful gasp. A wheeze left your chest as you struggled for breath, but you realized you needed to struggle now to not be pulled into the water. He was beginning to drag you, laughing all the way, and you shrieked in fear, desperately trying to claw your hands into the sand. You were so, so stupid. Why the fuck would you do that? Why did you have to go back for your hat? Why did you have to stand there and admire him?

“H-Help! P-Please, no! Let me go, let me go!” You shrieked, feeling hot tears begin to roll down your face as fear bloomed through your entire being. You tried to kick and pull, but he was easily able to evade your swats or keep you held tight. Whereas before, with your wrist, he was being careful, he most certainly was not with your ankle. You felt his nails digging into you, and you realized that this probably really was the end. Mers had the capability of releasing a neurotoxin that could easily make your mind and body go numb if enough was administered, and you were almost certain that was happening to you as you felt a cold flush through your system. You didn’t think it was the waves hitting your body, after all.

“Stop! S-Stop, please, I– I’ll s-stay away, I promise!” You sobbed, feeling the water now up to your chest as you thrashed and pleaded with the mer. You wondered if he’d kill you here on shore, devour the best bits of you and leave your carcass to float along. At least then your family would know what happened to you. Perhaps, instead, he’d drag you further into the water, play with you until you just couldn’t fight back anymore, then he’d pull you down with him and drown you. Would it hurt? What did drowning feel like? All of these morbid thoughts floated into your mind as you fought and twisted and tried to claw at him, but nothing was working. You sputtered as water entered your mouth and nose, and your sob was bubbling as you once again shrieked hopelessly for help.

This is it. There was a reason you didn’t you never wanted to fuck with the ocean, and yet you did. You had entirely fucked around, and now were finding out. What a fool you were. The shore was becoming further away, and you couldn’t let out anymore loud calls for help with water constantly invading your mouth, but you noticed he wasn’t drowning you. So… He was playing with his food first, then. Maybe you could do something about it. Catch him off guard. Go for the gills, or the eyes, or–

There was a whoosh beneath your body. Another bubbling shriek of terror left your lips, before something emerged behind you. There was an instant chittering of furious clicks that caught your ears, exchanged back and forth as you were tugged and pulled, and you suddenly realized there were two of them, now. Fuck. How many more were there?

You expected to feel the rip and tear of your flesh, likely being fought over for food, but instead found the pressure around your ankle disappearing. You flounder, still feeling too paralyzed with fear and a hearty dose of adrenaline to make your limbs coordinate with what you wanted to do. There was a hiss, before you cried out again as an arm was wrapped around your torso, pulling you to another slick body. You fought and kicked, but all you stubbed your foot into was pure muscle of another mer tail.

“Stop fighting me, please! I’m going to help you back to shore.” The voice piped up, sounding both a mixture of weary and fearful itself.

“I can take her back; I was just messing around! I swear, I wasn’t gonna kill her!” Came the other mer’s voice, and although you noticed they sounded eerily similar, you pinpointed that one as the one that had dragged you. You fought and pushed against the mer holding onto you, but you did notice that you were being brought closer to the shore. You paddled as well, partially in an attempt to get away, partially to try and go faster, you figured. There was no response from one you were close to, but there didn’t need to be one. Soon, you felt your feet hit the sand, and you instantly pushed yourself away from him.

It was a big of a slog to get through the water at your hips, but you managed probably the fastest you had ever done. You almost tripped once, but finally made it back to shore, chest heaving and ankle burning as you glanced behind you. You could see the mer that had dragged you out in the distance, a look of something akin to frustration on his face. What shocked you the most, though, was the mer that had taken you to shore.

He looked just like the other mer. Identical down to the eye and hair color and facial features. The only real difference you could find was that he looked just a bit more pale, and his overall features were somehow a bit softer, his hair not as wild. You couldn’t see his tail, but from what you could gleam from the scales on his cheeks, they were a lighter blue. He watched you, a concerned look on his face as you backed away. Tears were still streaking down your cheeks, and you fought to keep walking, trembling as he swam a bit closer. “I’m sorry for what he did. If you’d let me explain–” He begins to speak, but you’ve most certainly had enough.

You turn, leaving your stupid hat behind that got you into this mess in the first place. You have the forethought to grab your towel and phone, because they’re far enough away. You don’t put on your flipflops and don’t feel your earbuds tumble out of your towel as you hurry down the sand. There’s more angry clicks in the background which sends a chill right up your spine, but you don’t look back, even as they recede into the distance and vanish.

#reader insert #reader #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh sixty #dbh nines #dbh connor x reader #dbh sixty x reader #dbh nines x reader #merfolk #merpeople #au #rk800 #rk800-60 #connor-60 #rk900 #hank anderson

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infin1ty-garden · 1 year ago

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ REQUEST GUIDELINES!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Hello everyone! After some consideration I've decided to open requests.

ೃ⁀➷ I will NOT write smut, inappropriate relationships (e.i. teacher/student, father/daughter...), pregnancy fics, dark fics, underage character, political content, please do not request things containing major spoilers, character x OC

ೃ⁀➷ I WILL write character(s) (from the fandom list) x reader as well as alternate universe fic. Sometimes I will write character x character

ೃ⁀➷ use the prompts list if you wanna

❝ [ prompts & scenarios ] ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ [ fandoms I write for ] ❞

✧. ┊ SHADOW & BONE

nikolai lantsov, zoya nazyalensky, genya safin, alina starkov, tamar yul-bataar & tolya kir-bataar

✧. ┊ SCREAM

billy loomis, stu macher, mickey altieri, roman bridger, jill roberts & ethan landry

✧. ┊ TOP GUN

jake 'hangman' seresin, robert 'bob' floyd & natasha 'phoenix' trace

✧. ┊ DBH

connor, nines (rk900), rk800-60, north, simon, ralph & chloe

✧. ┊ THE QUARRY

ryan erzahler, dylan lenivy, kaitlyn ka, max brinly & laura kearney

✧. ┊ ALIEN

david, walter, andy, tyler harrison & rain carradine

✧. ┊ WUTHERING WAVES

rover, chixia, yangyang, sanhua, jiyan & jinhsi

✧. ┊ HOTD

cregan stark, gwayne hightower, haelena targaryen, jacaerys velaryon & rhaenyra targaryen

✧. ┊ DUNE

paul atreides, feyd-rautha harkonnen & chani kynes

✧. ┊ THE ACOLYTE

yord fandar, qimir & mae aniseya

✧. ┊ THE HUNTSMAN SERIES

eric (the huntsman), snow white, william, ravenna & freya

✧. ┊⁭ GLADIATOR II

lucius verus, marcus acacius & emperor geta

╰┈➤ ❝ [ submission guidelines ] ❞

ೃ⁀➷ please include reader pronouns

ೃ⁀➷ if you want to request a prompt, please use the prompt list (you don't have to)

ೃ⁀➷ be patient & kind

ೃ⁀➷ if i can tell that you haven't read any of these guidelines and have disregarded all the rules. your request will be deleted

Thanks for reading or requesting!

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fluffykiddosstuff · 7 months ago

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In this story, the reader is already dating sixty since few months, and was a stripper before, she is the sister of gavin and a close friend to hank, connor is aroace in this one and conan (rk900) and gavin are dating also (conan changed his hair to white and sixty as slightly darker hair and eyes than connor)

________

A little bit of context :

You came inside the department to give your brother's lunch, heck like you were in school..you dropped it on his desk and you where trying to get back to your work as fast as possible when you bumped into someone, really hard, you falled flat ass on the ground and groaned in pain, the figure helped you getting up while muttering a "sorry" you looked up and was mermerised by what you saw.

It was an another rk800 model like connor, but with darker hair and eyes. Also a little scar was on his forehead, you flattered your eyelashes and laughed a bit.

"Sorry ! Thought i was seing a ghost by how i look at you !"

The android blushed blue a bit and kept looking in your (e/c) eyes, even tho you had a rather revealing outfit.

"Yeah sorry you must be confused,i'm sixty, the brother of connor and conan, i'm the middle one"

"Oh i see makes sense that you have a brother bond ! I'm y/n Reed"

"Reed ? Like detective reed ?" His eyes whidenend and you laughed again

"Yeah ,i know my bro is an ass but so much things happened when we were little, he is a good person, he just hides it really well, i hope conan can see it"

You both talked a little bit more when your boss called, screaming at you.

"Sorry gotta go before i get fired ! Call me if you want sweetie !"

You gave him a cheek kiss and a little paper with your personal number on it, he stroked his cheek in awe and blushed a bit more, was that what people call "love at first sight ?"

Months later :

You were wainting in front of the family door with your boyfriend, sixty, you were quite nervous and you looked at him.

"What if they don't like me ? Is my dress too revealing?"

"No you are fine really, don't worry"

You smiled and took his hand in yours, when conan opened, he didn't said anything but eyed your dress, it was a cocktail black dress with glitter, you wore some jewelry and makeup, and black heels with it, also black and red nails accompanying your look.

"Come in, the dinner will be ready soon"

You nodded and got inside, hank was in the couch with sumo, while connor was cooking, gavin was surely outside smoking you thought.

You got near connor when sixty leaved your side to talk a bit with hank and conan.

"Need help with cooking ?"

"Huh no thanks" he was quite, dry in his talking and backed away from you, you nodded and got away, sitting on a chair in front of the tv. Conan was staring at you with his deep blue ocean eyes and you weren't at ease at all. Gavin came back and smiled at you, you smiled a bit back when connor screamed.

"Dinner is ready everyone !"

You all got around the table, the 3 humans getting classic food while the 3 androids eated thirium based food. There was an uncomfortable silence when hank started the conversation.

"So, is everything well now with work, find anything ?"

"Yes actually! I found a new work i will be starting soo-"

"Is it about showing yourself to everyone on display again ?" Conan said staring at you,hank chocked on his drink and gavin gave an elbow at conan

"What's it to you now ?" Gavin glared at him, he saw you were hurt, badly even

"N-no actually it's in a bakery, not far from the dpd and-"

"a bakery, with how you dress seriously ?" Connor said with an arched eyebrow. You had tears around your eyes and looked at your plate, not daring to touch it.

"What's your point both of you, why do you treat her like that !?" Sixty screamed, hitting the table making everyone flinch.

"We want you to understand sixty that she isn't a good choice of a partner, she flirts with everyone we saw it before she met you back at the station, and showing everything she got to everybody ? Don't you think she will cheat ?" Connor simply nodded at conan words, hank and gavin being stunned by what he said, you cried silently and got your purse before getting up.

"I-i'll be on my way, sorry for bothering"

You runned outside in the pouring rain when sixty glared at his so called brothers

"I hope you are all happy !" He got outside and started to run back at you.

Meanwhile gavin and hank started to lecture the 2 others androids.

"What did you both thought for God's sake !?" Hank screamed, looking at the white and brown haired androids, connor looked like a lost puppy, when conan looked like a training dog waiting for his next instructions. He speaked first.

"We saw many hints from y/n at work hank, she kept flirting with everyone even us, while she knows i'm gay and connor is aroace"

Hank facepalmed and groaned while gavin sighed.

"Didn't thought i'd say something like that but this is the dumbest thing you said tin man" sighed gavin

"Yeah connor i thought you were you and conan, the greatest achievement of cyberlife" hank said,scratching his beard "this is how she acts with everyone, she is just very open, she does that to me too, do you thing a chick like her would be interested in an old man like me ? Surely not, she just likes to make people at ease and giving them nicknames that's all"

"Yeah and for why she was a stripper. She didn't get to go to school like me, our father forced us in the way he like, he forced me to the army after i graduated from police school while y/n stayed at home doing the chores, i was the one helping her to read or things like that, with no diploma, it was hard getting a job so she went in this way so she wouldn't relay on me, even if i wasn't bothered by it. She got manupilated by so many poeple that she didn't got many love in return. That's why she is very touchy with everyone,she stayed for money but also for information since many bad guys got in this "human only club" and helped us with many cases. Her boss got arrested not long ago thanks to her informations, so now she is trying to fix her life"

Both of the androids looked at the floor, LED red, now they where feeling bad..

Sixty pov :

I runned after her and took her wrist in my hand

"Y/n wait !"

She looked at me with her (e/c) eyes full of tears, she sniffled and i took her into my arms and strocked her back.

"I'm sure it was a misunderstanding, you live far away, and by how it's pouring, it's not safe to drive either, let's get back inside, i don't want you to be sick"

She simply nodded and i kissed her before taking her hand and going back to hank's house..

Author pov :

Sixty knocked on the door and gavin opened he gave you a sympathetic look then hugged you even if you were wet, he smiled and ruffled your hair.

"They want to talk to you,but first go change sis" he kissed you on the forehead and you chuckled, sixty got in his room and gave you some spare close it was a bit big, but it was better than being all wet, you felt very comfy in those, sixty came behind you and stroked your hair with a towel

"Thank you honey, i..i'm sorry it got like that"

He took your chin in his fingers and kissed you

"Don't apologize, they were just..ignorant..let's go in the main room"

When you both got closer to the door, you heard running steps going in the living room, you both laughed and got out, seing hank and gavin acting like nothing happened. When they saw you enter, connor and conan immediately got up from the couch, sixty joined hank and gavin and watched them make their apology.

"Look we are sorry for what happened, we didn't know and, gavin explained what your childhood was like, so we apologize" connor explained and nines just nodded, confirming his sayings, you got closer to them and hugged them both.

"That's alright, i forgive both of you''

You smiled and they hugged back, the others joining in this weird little family group.

"See you are welcome here" sixty smiled and kissed your forehead.

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precursor-ao3 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 2 of Deep Blue is live on AO3 and Wattpad!

“Do I unsettle you?” The RK900 asked, words laced with a challenge.

Gavin’s instincts screamed at him to step back, but he remained rooted in place, captivated. The question hung in the RK900's stare, a curiosity that mirrored his own.

"You wish."

Click here for AO3

Click here for Wattpad

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unstablerk800 · 1 year ago

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The Chase

Originally posted here; decided to include it on my blog separately. 🙃

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: F/M

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Original Female Character(s), CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/Original Female Character(s), RK800 "Connor" Android(s)/Original Female Character(s), CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/Reader, RK800 "Connor" Android(s) (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Reader

Characters: Upgraded Connor | RK900CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60RK800 "Connor" Android(s) (Detroit: Become Human)Connor (Detroit: Become Human)

Additional Tags: Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use

Read on Ao3.

Word count: 566

You noticed Sixty was running after you.

It seemed he enjoyed the chase. Even a smile was playing around his lips as you're turning forward again. If it wasn't for his bright, blood coloured LED, you'd think it was a game.

It was not.

The bike was running low on gas, but you decided to ride faster. You wouldn't have a chance on foot.

You saw Connor from the corner of your eyes. He was giving you that lopsided grin, coupled with a glaring crimson LED... the sight made your heart race in your chest so fast it hurt. You were panting and sweating with the need to get away. How fast can they run?? How is it possible? They were so near to your bike, they could almost reach the back of it. If they grab the small trunk... if they grab you...

You let out a shriek when you noticed Nines falling down from a building, right beside you. He had been following you on the rooftops and decided to intervene when you were near the tunnel. Cursing under your breath, you maneuvered with the bike to put distance between you two.

Nines didn't hesitate to grab you. It felt painful, but you try to hold onto the bike for dear life, squeezing with your hands and thighs as the vehicle slid to the other side, away from your body.

"No!" You screamed, you flailed, finally letting go of the vehicle. You started to hit the unforgiving chassis under the plastic padding, though it never did you any good, you usually ended up hurting yourself. Nines's arm wrapped tighter around your waist, and he pulled you to his chest, with you facing the tunnel. There goes your freedom. The bike kept going for a while before it fell on its side, hitting the wall and sliding in the dark tunnel before it came to a halt. "No! No!"

"Enough", Nines growled above you, but you decide not to give up.

You tried to hit and scratch as you screamed. No witnesses around; the city had been android driven for months. Nobody cared about a human going wild, apart from her owners. Sixty and Connor reached you two, both of them looking pristine as they watched you struggle against Nines's arm.

"You stole my bike!" Sixty sounded both annoyed and impressed. "You're going to pay for that!"

"Fuck you!"

You couldn't help it, you were so frustrated. You lost. You had a chance to escape Detroit, and you lost it. And you probably lost all of your other privileges, too. The little nice things they've given you. Sweets. Telly. Gentleness. The illusion of being loved.

"Why are humans so difficult?" Sixty sighed, shaking his head.

"It seems we need to start over with her", Connor's LED was the first that turned to amber. He was less agitated now that they could get you. He reached in his coat's inner pocket, and pulled out a syringe. Your struggles intensified; you knew where you'd wake up if that kicked in. "It seems we weren't strict enough."

"If it's punishment she needs", Nines growled above you coolly, chilling your blood in your veins, "I can give it to her. In abundance."

"Nooo!"

As all three of them were on you to hold you down, your last thought was that you wouldn't get a chance like this ever again.

#rk800 #rk900 #rk800-60 #dbh connor #dbh nines #dbh sixty #fanfic #drabble #dbh fanfic #detroit become human fanfic #reader insert #connor x reader #nines x reader #sixty x reader #drug use tw #the chase

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cyberllfe · 1 year ago

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equilibrium (unbruised, part 3/3)

(E, Sixty/F!Reader, almost 20k bc I’ve lost my mind, we’re wrapping up this angst fest) — complete

The back of the lab is bigger than the previous ones, but far emptier, which as far as Sixty is concerned is its saving grace: less stuff means less time wasted on glorified clean-up duty.

As usual, it’s full of the same uninteresting cabinets and equipment stands, old or defunct biocomponents, the odd bottle—empty, or practically empty—of thirium. The room tapers but rounds a corner into a smaller alcove at the end; display screens and units have been pulled to the edge of the wall by the corner, obscuring it from view, so Sixty crosses the room to peer around the tangle of wiring and computers.

The echo of his footsteps carries on long after he freezes.

Glass lines the far wall, covering recessed cupboards full of android parts. It’s not clear at a glance how many are decent salvage and which are faulty. Sixty’s eyes pass over them without taking any notice.

A giant arm protrudes down from the ceiling, encased in white, breaking into four smaller arms at the end. Two are disconnected, hanging almost limp. The remaining two hold aloft the wrists of an android.

A twisting revulsion hits Sixty, strong enough to knock him a step backwards. Sharp lines in brash monochrome fill his vision, his mind, but Sixty can’t tear his eyes away from that face. Recognition takes no effort. He’s seen that face every day since Talia reactivated him.

The numbers are new, bright against interminable black. 87.

“Connor.” His voice comes out too quiet. “Connor! Get over here.”

[read on ao3]

#misc: fan works #fan works: unbruised #ch: connor 60 #angst train… goes home #sixty x reader #dbh x reader #rk800 sixty x reader #listen I know it’s been A While….. but I’m back at work now so apparently that means I’m writing constantly.#who knew.#anyway here’s another fic crossed off my wip list #so now I really have no excuse for leaving loop sixty hanging #poor baby.#catch ya later

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pixelmensupremacy · 2 years ago

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𝕿𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

[ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ]

♫ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗⁱⁿᵃ ᴬᵍᵘⁱˡᵉʳᵃ ♫

𝟎:𝟏𝟒 ──⚬──── 𝟏:𝟒𝟓 ⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻

Volume: 4.2k

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

Contains: Sexually explicit content,

MDI, porn with little to no plot,

degrading kink, spanking, dirty talk,

teasing, anal, creampie, GN!reader

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┘

Relationships are complicated. That pertained to both humans and androids; (Y/N) and Sixty happened to be no exception.

From the very beginning of their relationship, there was an oddity in their interaction that was extraordinary in comparison to most couples. Sixty’s fierce propensity added spice to (Y/N)’s mundane life, providing them with fiery energy they didn’t realize they needed. Despite his unremarkably difficult persona, they were drawn to him. Oddly enough so was he; (Y/N)’s fascination with him was both incredibly flattering as well as confusing to him. He couldn’t help the curiosity growing within him- what was the reason behind (Y/N)’s attraction towards him?

At first, he thought it had to do with how identical he was to his predecessor, an RK800 model they had known prior to meeting him, but soon enough that proved to not be the case- (Y/N)’s interest was directed at Sixty. Their body language and demeanor in Connor’s presence differed; they were relaxed and talkative, but whenever Sixty showed up they tensed and they got flustered. Their heartbeat accelerated, their pupils dilated and their full attention shifted to Sixty, light-heartedly disregarding whatever they and Connor were discussing. Initially, he thought they were intimidated, although their vitals pointed to another feeling he didn’t anticipate he could provoke in someone- enticement.

His soft, familiar exterior combined with his harsh demeanor made for a formula of an alluring elixir (Y/N) was inexplicably drawn to akin to a moth to a flame. Despite their many differences, there was a strong magnetic force that pulled the two together.

Their relations were off to a rough start with them meeting on that faithful November night, when the man, that appeared to be the Connor (Y/N) knew and trusted, held them at gun point only to use them as bait for the actual Connor.

At that time (Y/N) went through an ocean of emotions, disappointment in themselves followed by anger for not being able to realize they were falling for a trap. Their heart raced, each beat thumped loudly in their ears, numbing any other sounds surrounding them- except his voice. A voice they were painfully familiar with, yet there was something different to it, something (Y/N) could only describe as danger. Though they felt everything but fearful.

It may have been that the mysterious man looked exactly like the android they had grown attached to, giving them a false sense of safety. But they saw the difference in his eyes from the very beginning- a wicked flicker behind the soft chocolate irises of his eyes that caused the alarms in their head to go off. Yet for some unintelligible reason, (Y/N) naively surrendered to the strong force that pulled them towards him until it was too late for them to go back. And even then, they weren’t fearing for their life as the cold barrel of his gun was touching their temple. Despite the immense amounts of adrenaline, rushing in their bloodstream, there was something else that aided for their unnatural calmness- enamor.

Ever since that fateful meeting, something within (Y/N) was unlocked, something only Sixty brought out.

It took time for the ice wall between the two to melt down, a time during which (Y/N) desperately tried to fight the desires that only grew stronger with each passing second. Meanwhile Sixty struggled with discovering and accepting his humanity. As much as they avoided each other, fate only brought them closer until they eventually surrendered, colliding into a messy union of two opposite worlds.

Their relationship was unconventional to say the least and their bond wasn’t welcomed by most of their friends, though it was the shock they caused that made their relationship all the more exciting. It was almost as if the reactions they provoked further fueled the sparks between them into a burning flame that brought an equally warming feeling to the both of them.

Sixty was an ardent lover, expressive of all and any emotion he had towards his lover. His display of affection was unhindered by the restrictive public perceptions; in fact, he enjoyed bursting people’s bubbles with his unabashed- at times even ignoble- behavior. Nonetheless, (Y/N) found it utterly endearing. His unapologetic straightforwardness was a remarkable trait of his, that most humans lost along the way of fitting into the mold that was society, that added to the uniqueness of his persona. Sixty wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, at times, he was too much even for (Y/N).

The fiery spark within him was unpredictable, ready to rekindle at any given moment and strike anyone unlucky enough to have caused it. The force that sprung from him was mostly brought out when it counted most- at work. Never had Sixty failed to extract a confession from a suspect, and (Y/N) wasn’t surprised by that at all. His darkened, piercing gaze oozed with intensity that caused both guilty and innocent alike to tremble in fear, whilst his low voice caused shivers to run down their spine. Occasionally, his voice would raise, intentionally catching the suspect off guard. Everything about him from his aura down to his approach embodied the definition of the ‘bad cop’, which (Y/N) enjoyed to an extend they wouldn’t admit.

Being assigned the same case, (Y/N) had to be present for the interrogation of a suspect connected to the chain of crimes they and Sixty investigated. They watched closely as Sixty went about questioning the man; truth be told, they didn’t look into the suspect’s information and it didn’t interest them as much as what awaited the poor person. Standing near the dark gray tiles of the observation room, (Y/N) carefully observed Sixty; the android stood above the plain table that camouflaged with the deep gray hues of the interrogation room. He browsed through the case files, absorbing every bit of information before he sat across the man. Shortly after the formalities of introducing himself to the suspect, Sixty got right down questions; even though he was trying his best to predispose the man into talking, his patience was wearing thin- Sixty wasn’t known for having perfect temper.

Slamming the case file atop the surface of the table, Sixty yelled something at the suspect (Y/N) didn’t catch, for they were just as surprised as their colleagues in the observation room. The slam of the paper echoed across the room, causing the poor man to flinch, though much for his dismay, Sixty was just getting started.

“Where you at the night of April 20th?” Sixty stood up and hovered above the man; helpless underneath the android, the suspect trembled in fear.

“Speak up you scumbag!” Suddenly, Sixty picked up the suspect by his collar, lifting him in the air as if he weighted nothing before letting him fall back on his chair. (Y/N) stared in awe, trying their best to suppress the inappropriate thoughts that arose in their mind. Heat rushed through their body; their foot tapped against the matt in a failed attempt to ignore what their body desired. In that moment they thanked all and any deities out there Sixty couldn’t see their flustered face through the mirror.

“Don’t make this difficult for the both of us. If you cooperate, I can guarantee no one will get hurt.” He whispered words of empty promises, yet -on the other side of the one-way mirror- (Y/N) bit their lip as Sixty’s melodic voice tingled their ears.

“Look, I don’t have all fucking day to deal with you.” Sixty now spoke in a calmer tone all the while intentionally retaining the threatening undertone in his voice.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched; despite the solid layer of glass standing between them and Sixty, the air seemed to thicken, causing them to suffocate by the intensity that surrounded him. Their heart raced, sending a rush of hot blood to their face; beads of sweat broke on their forehead. Lightheaded, they exited the observation room and stumbled their way to the break room. Downing a glass of water, (Y/N) finally felt a sense of relief as the coolness of the water aided in calming them down- or at least they did up until Sixty joined them.

Silently, he made his way to the fridge and took a thirium drink without addressing the flustered look on their face- odd. He sipped at the drink; his gaze fell upon (Y/N)’s one. Flustered, they looked away, a new rush of heat spread across their face. Mentally, they scolded themselves for getting all hot and bothered just at the sight of him, though Sixty seemed more than pleased with that reaction.

“You seem upset, detective.” He bit his lip in a failed attempt to hold back a knowing smile.

“I don’t remember the observation room to be that warm.” (Y/N) played along, avoiding his prying eyes.

“Are you pleased with how the interrogation went? The suspect was quite difficult to work with, though eventually, I managed to successfully get the information we needed.” He went on, adeptly working with his words to extract the answer he sought after much like he did during interrogations though with a significantly calmer approach. (Y/N) sensed that, though they were sure to resist for as long as they could to get him on the edge.

“It worked.” Now that (Y/N) collected themselves, they finally looked up at him only to be met with his deep brown eyes boring into them.

“Maybe I could learn a thing or two from you.” They suggested jokingly, which in return piqued his interest; he nodded in approval, a proud smile curled the corners of his lips.

“What is it that you wish to learn?” His voice was low, suggestive, alluring; it was a trap (Y/N) knew was bound to drag them into his web, yet they were willing to surrender- eventually.

“Everything.” They whispered, their face was a mere inches away from Sixty’s, their warm breath tickled the sensors of his synthetic skin.

“For god’s sake! Get a room!” The annoyed shouting of Lieutenant Anderson anchored their attention, resulting in resolving the intense staring contest the two were having.

Curiosity killed the cat- a phrase Sixty painfully related to his entire existence, and now the mystery of (Y/N)’s strange behavior had fully occupied his mind. Silently, he observed them, looking for clues as to what caused them to get so flustered today. He wasn’t unfamiliar with their bashful reactions, especially when he was the causing them, though he detected something different.

Creeping up behind them, he rested his head atop theirs all the while his hands snaked around their waist, slightly swaying them. Sixty pecked their cheek, bringing a smile to their face that shortly turned into giggles as his wandering hands slid across their warm skin in opposite directions; his lips trailed the outline of their jaw, before making their way to their neck and collarbone where he gently sucked underneath the bone. (Y/N)’s giggles soon turned into breathy whimpers. They gasped his name as he groped their ass causing them to drop the tea cup they were holding.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath almost too quietly for (Y/N) to hear. Blood rushed to their face, warmth spread across their skin; guilt washed over Sixty’s features, though looking at his partner he was surprised to see the lack of upset in their eyes.

“Goddamn Sixty! You’re gonna be the end of me.” They rushed the words out of their mouth as their gaze shied away from him, hiding the glint of bashfulness they hopped he wouldn’t notice. Kneeling in sync, the two collected the broken pieces of the porcelain not uttering a single word while doing so. Sixty’s gaze studied them the entire time, noticing how their heart thumped against their ribcage loud enough for him to hear, and how their pupils were dilating. Reaching for the last piece, their hands brushed, sending electric shocks across the two as if they touched for the very first time. Raising their head, (Y/N) was met with Sixty’s curious gaze.

“(Y/N).” He softly uttered their name. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“Why would I?” They broke the eye contact and threw the last piece in the trash can. His prying eyes didn’t leave their form for even a second; now he was sure there was something.

“I know this is my very first and only relationship I’ve been in but as far as I’m informed partners shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.” He insisted, following their steps to the couch.

“Correct.” They laid on the soft cushions.

“Then why do you avoid sharing with me whatever it is on your mind?” He sat on the sofa across them, his puzzled eyes bore into them.

“What do you want me to share?” (Y/N) played dumb, avoiding his gaze and fighting back a smug grin.

“The thing that has been on your mind ever since this morning.”

“Which one?” His patience was wearing thin.

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.” (Y/N) tensed, he smiled to himself. “Spare me the bullshit and get to the point.” His voice was even, assertive, confident; judging by the shy smile on their face, he was dangerously close to getting the answer he sought after.

Heat pooled in their lower stomach, yet faint sense of shame overtook them for they realized he was close to revealing their little secret. They sat up and glanced at him; he looked even hotter than he sounded. His hair was messy, the brown locks of hair fell perfectly across the sharp features of his face; his eyebrows were raised, deepening the lines of his forehead, his chocolate eyes were overtaken by the darkness of his dilated pupils. A few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the fair skin underneath the fabric just enough to tease (Y/N). He was a sight for sore eyes, one they somehow managed to miss for the entirety of the evening.

“Tell me, detective.” They began as they made their way towards him. “What have you deduced?” They shot him a daring look as they made themselves comfortable on his lap. Immediately, his hand found its place on their thigh; their warmth tingled his sensors.

“I’ve come to the conclusion you are aroused by the sexual practice of getting humiliated, otherwise known as degradation kink.” He spoke with confidence all the while maintaining his typical matter-of-factly undertone.

“Very impressive I got to admit.” (Y/N) playfully tugged at his loosened tie that he still wore even hours after his shift ended. “Though I must ask what will you do now that you’re aware of this information?” They shot him a naïve look that did a poor job of hiding the mischief in their voice.

“I’m going to treat you like the little slut you are.” (Y/N) yelped as Sixty lifted them in the air as if they weighted nothing; holding onto his shoulders, they giggled once they noticed him heading to the bedroom. They bounced on the mattress, relishing the view of him. His slender fingers worked on completely undoing his tie; sliding the silky fabric of the tie off his neck, he was quick to wrap it around their wrists. (Y/N) only bit their lip, anticipating his next move.

“Move around for me.” He demanded; enthusiastically, they rolled on their stomach and raised their ass in the air, teasingly wiggling it in the process. Deep chuckle ripped through his vocal box.

“Shameless bitch.” A loud smack echoed across the room followed by an equally load moan that rolled past (Y/N)’s lips. “So desperate to get fucked.”

Firmly holding their hips in place, his strong grip was sure to leave a galaxy of blue and deep purple; trapped in his hold, his own hips rubbed against (Y/N)’s ones. Even through the fabric, they felt the undoubted, familiar hardness ribbing against their butt cheeks, the friction did nothing but tease them. Their hands grasped the silky sheets in an attempt to balance themselves but to no avail; Sixty’s humping grew in force and frequency, causing their body to melt under his touch. His grip on their thighs tightened, causing a feeling of discomfort they were willing to go through if it meant they would feel the ultimate they so deeply desired. Arousal ran in their veins; the animalistic nature of it all sent a rush of excitement in their body and when he cursed under his breath. Oh lord. They thought they could cum right then and there.

Another louder moan ripped through their throat as Sixty’s palm came crashing down on their poor cheek, not even their clothes could weaken the impact of his palm. Intentionally, he kept his hand in place after each slap, holding and kneading the sore skin before repeating the process. Guided by the sounds they made, Sixty accommodated the force of his hand, making sure he provided his partner with an enjoyable amount of pain and pleasure.

“How pathetic, getting off without even proper stimulation. Are you that needy for me?” Despite knowing it was a rhetoric question, (Y/N) frantically nodded in hope of finally getting what they ached for.

“Even though I expertise in non-verbal communication I would much rather hear you say it, dear.”

“Please, Sixty… Fuck me.” They pleaded, all shame and dignity had left them long ago for the sole purpose of sinful pleasure.

“So desperate to get fucked by an android. I’m so much more superior than you, I could crush your fragile body at any second. Isn’t that idea upsetting to you?” They shook their head no, their ass pressed against his throbbing cock; Sixty chuckled understanding what they were getting at.

Forcefully pulling down their pants, he smacked their ass once more but now the impact was much more intense. (Y/N) whimpered, the air hitting their skin granted them a relieving, cooling sensation. Sixty’s slacks followed the same fate; swiftly he unbuckled the belt and unzipped the piece of clothing, holding back his growing erection. Alerted by the sound of clothes ruffling, (Y/N) bit their lip, mentally preparing themselves for what was to come. His cock rested atop the valley of their flaming hot butt cheeks; cool lube leaked on their hot skin. Pressing their burning cheeks together, he relished the sensation of the warmth, wrapping around the highly responsive sensors of his synthetic dick.

“Sixty…” They uttered his name, their voice barely above a whisper already breathless in anticipation for him.

“You’re going to have to wait a bit, dear.” He rubbed the skin of their ass, kneading their sore skin. Suddenly, the pressure of his weight on them vanished, leaving them waiting. Curiosity got the best of them, for they couldn’t help but take a peek behind their shoulder, only to be met with the sight of him slowly rubbing himself, taking his time massaging the tip the way (Y/N) did. His chocolate eyes were shut, his mouth was agape, his jaw was clenched; they couldn’t help but whimper at the sight that made their legs soften. Alerted by the sudden sound, his eyes shot open, immediately coming in contact with their curious ones.

“Do you enjoy the view?” He raised his eyebrow at them as they looked away, embarrassed they got caught. ”Shamelessly watching me get off, you really are a dirty whore.” He noted as if he was uncertain about their hidden nature up until this very moment.

(Y/N) yelped, taken by surprise by his hands suddenly pulling them flush against his chest. The coldness of his skin contrasted to the heat of their own one that burned with desire to get absolutely ruined by him; his hand held them tightly in place, his fingers dug in their soft flesh. His nose was buried in the crook of their neck, his lips were dangerously close to their most sensitive spot, which happened to be his favorite place to litter with kisses.

“How bad do you want me to fill up that little hole of yours?” He went about it casually as if he just didn’t ask if they were sure about him rearranging their guts.

“Very bad.” Their breath hitched as Sixty’s hand slowly traced each and every curve of their body until he reached their inner thigh.

“Good.” Shivers ran down their spine; his other hand found it’s place on their nipple, where his fingers tirelessly toyed with their hardened bud. Hard as it ever was, his cock pressed against their lower back, reminding them of its presence though (Y/N) didn’t need to feel it in order to think about it more often than they would like to admit. Soft moans rolled down their plump lips as they melted underneath the delicate touch of his lips, trailing across their neck and up their jaw. Tracing his tongue atop their jaw, he made his way to the spot behind their ear, where he planted a gentle kiss. Then his mouth wandered atop their earlobe, where he bit hard enough to cause them to wince in discomfort.

“Now be good for me and bend over the bed.” His melodic voice entranced them in doing whatever it was he told them to. Positioned in all fours, (Y/N) blindly anticipated to be filled. Gripping the shiny, silky sheets, they arched their back, luring him in. Sixty smirked and moved closer to them, whilst continuing to rub himself. In rushed pace, he massaged his cock until he came on their throbbing hole; spreading his synthetic cum on their entrance. Lubing them up, he began playfully teasing them. Pressing his thumb on their hole, he slowly let his finger sink in them only to bring it out and back in again.

Before they knew it, (Y/N) were panting; the painful sensation faded into bliss, the cool substance of his cum aided to calming the burning discomfort and make the process as painless as possible. Sixty was careful, pressing slowly and taking his time gently stretching out their entrance all the while he made sure they were completely relaxed. Constantly, he kept track of their vitals and talked to them to reassure himself he was doing them no harm.

“This is going to hurt a little bit.” He cautioned them, once he was certain they were prepared.

Slowly, he thrusted in; (Y/N)’s breath hitched, their grip on the sheets grew tighter. His hands dug into their hips, keeping them in place; for a few seconds, he stood still, giving them time to adjust to him. (Y/N) wiggled gently, wordlessly urging him to move- and so he did. With the upmost caution, he pulled out in a singular, slow motion before he pushed back in. (Y/N) whimpered, their back arched, bringing their ass back, wanting him deep inside of them. Spreading their butt cheeks, he began thrusting in a steady pace. (Y/N) melted underneath his touch; where his fingers would caress, they felt electric shocks and the way his dick filled them up had them breathless. As he picked up his pace, incoherent noises mixed with moans of pleasure were all the sounds that left (Y/N)’s mouth fully contrasting Sixty’s unnatural quietness. Despite constantly pounding into them at a now merciless manner, he was inhumanly silent, except for the occasional whimper.

Too infatuated with (Y/N)’s voice, he had lowered his own to fully relish the melody that was their breathy pleads and moans. His full attention was focused on them; observing how their body reacted to each of his thrusts, he accommodated his movements to bring them the most pleasurable experience possible.

“Are you enjoying yourself, you dirty slut?” (Y/N) practically felt his deep chuckle against their neck as his fingers held their neck so their ear was at the level of his mouth. The change of angles had immense effect on how he hit a certain spot that had them seeing stars. The only respond they were capable of giving at the moment was just a series of moans and whimpers of his name, though he didn’t seem pleased with just that.

“Answer me bitch!” Suddenly, he stopped moving, causing them to moan out in protest.

“Yes! Sixty, please don’t stop!” They whined in-between moans; the lack of friction left them needy and on the brim of the much-anticipated ecstasy. Chills ran down their spine as his cold breath hit their burning skin; they didn’t hear it clearly but they felt his laughter against their neck. His lips traced a line down to their collar bone, where he sucked on their skin, purposefully denying them their climax as long as he could contain himself for. It was a form of tortious practice he was found of; he liked pushing (Y/N) to their limit just to see how much they could last before giving in, or before he got too frustrated. Their face was a sight to see; plump lips glistering with saliva, glossy beads of sweat covered their heated skin, their teary eyes begged him to fuck them into oblivion. They were so human and he loved it. He couldn’t hold back a moan from ripping out his vocal box as he no longer cared about not hearing their moans as they were permanently burned into his CPU.

“As I thought.” Loud moan followed as he thrusted into them as suddenly as he stopped; his pace was unforgiving, hitting their sweet spot over and over again in an inhuman speed. A scream escaped from (Y/N)’s agape mouth- they were out of breath but he didn’t stop. The whole bed shook, hitting the wall in synch with his thrusts; if they weren’t too intoxicated by how his dick stretched them out, they would’ve been afraid of their neighbors hearing what they were up to- but frankly that wasn’t the case. His name rolled off their tongue multiple times akin to a mantra that was the only thing that kept them from ascending into a higher realm of pure extasy.

Feeling their peak getting dangerously close, they were surprised to feel the vibration from his cock rock their entire world. With a loud scream they came hard, his name echoed across the whole room and beyond, though Sixty kept going. Only after the blur of their orgasm was fading away did they hear his moans and pants as he kept chasing his high. Placing their arms around his neck, (Y/N) brought him in for a deep passionate kiss; their tongue brushed against his, in respond he moaned loudly and that’s when they felt his cum coating their insides. Manually, he kept moving until he emptied every last drop of his synthetic cum.

Laying by their side, he wrapped them in a blanket, caressing their damp cheek.

“I have never suspected you are into such type of sexual practice.” He remarked, staring at them with utter affection and infatuation.

“For someone with pretensions of being one of the -if not the most- advanced android you tend to catch on a bit later. I’m surprised it took you that long to find out.” They giggled at his puzzled expression as they bit his tie, untangling the knot he did earlier.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He completely avoided the subject.

#dbh fanfic #dbh imagine #dbh x reader #rk800 60 #sixty x reader

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honey-beann · 1 year ago

Note

ooh from the nightmare/sleeping prompt list, 2 or 4?

Linger

rk800-60 (Sixty) x Reader

Nightmare/sleeping prompt #4 - "Let me stay. I can make you breakfast in the morning." (for more prompts, you can find my collection of prompt lists here)

Note: The vibe of this fic is the same as a Sixty x Reader series I've been working on for some time now, so this may or may not take place in that same universe, but for now it is absolutely just a oneshot haha.

Warnings: Fairly vague smut, mentions of sex (hard to have vague smut without that).

Word Count: 654

One of the ways that you could always tell when Sixty was close was the way his would hands start moving all over your body, as if he couldn't decide where he wanted them to be when he finished.

He groaned from where he was hovering above you, his breath hot on your neck as his fingers gripped at your hips, thighs, breasts, and hair, shifting their focus over and over again before finally settling on your hips once more.

You gasped at the feeling of his firm hands squeezing at your delicate flesh, back arching slightly as Sixty pushed you further and further into over stimulation, his pace relentless as he drove himself to the brink of orgasm, until finally, he came with a loud groan, his grip tightening and relaxing over and over.

He remained like this for a few more moments before he pulled out of you with a grunt, collapsing at your side just as you rolled onto your back, face flushed and chest rising and falling quickly as your heart rate settled.

You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, relishing in the quiet before finally turning your gaze toward your colleague turned friend with benefits, finding him already watching you with a familiar glint in his eyes.

"What?"

You asked, barely resisting the urge to cover yourself with the blanket as Sixty shrugged from where he was laying down beside you.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about how much fun Chen and Person are gonna have with you tomorrow when they see all those marks on your neck."

He teased, and you groaned in exasperation, grabbing the pillow he had used to cushion your knees earlier to smack him as he continued to laugh at your embarrassment.

Huffing, you glared at him as he snatched the pillow out of your grip just as you reared back to hit him again, though he only smirked in response, causing you to roll your eyes before you tossed your arm over them.

"Remind me why you're still here?"

You questioned, eyes still covered as Sixty moved beside you, no doubt making himself comfortable in response to your query.

"What, you aren't gonna beg me to stay this time?"

He teased, and instantly you were sitting up in bed, blanket clutched to your chest as you glared at your coworker again.

"I have never once even considered begging you to stay, asshole."

You scolded, watching as Sixty raised a brow before shrugging,

"Guess you just never had to say it out loud, I must know you too well."

You could tell that he was actively trying to get on your nerves at this point, but you crossed your arms regardless, refusing to let him win this time.

"Oh would you shut it already? You're the one who made the rules, Six, what the hell do you even want to stay here for?"

He chuckled and leaned back against your pillows, sighing as he watched you intently,

"Maybe I just want to switch things up a little."

You regarded him with uncertainty, refusing to let your guard down despite your obviously vulnerable state.

"And what's in it for me?"

You questioned hesitantly, causing Sixty to laugh before he finally answered, scooting closer to you as he did so.

"C'mon, let me stay."

He urged, though he must have seen the remaining uncertainty in your eyes, because he was quick to continue,

"I can make you breakfast in the morning."

At that, you smirked, flopping down onto your back beside him once more as you made yourself comfortable again.

"Well why didn't you just lead with that?"

You teased, watching as Sixty rolled his eyes before he settled in on the other side of the mattress, watching as intently as he would allow himself to as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber that he found himself wishing he could follow you into.

masterlist

AO3

#dbh x reader smut #dbh x reader #dbh sixty x reader #sixty x reader #dbh fics #rk800 60 x reader #request #c: sixty

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staticl0ve · 2 years ago

Text

Not me lowkey screaming on the inside cause @cyberllfe is the reason why I’m not working on PwP and instead I’m writing ANGSTTT.

Angsty, heartbreak and redemption for our chaos boy, Sixty. Sigh.

“Your girlfriend seems nice.”

You said it like the label meant something to him, like you believed it when he threw it out there. Your voice broke around the syllables, a mournful sound because labels were why you weren’t the one he brought to the party and he said it like it was second nature. The words “it’s not fair,” was trapped between your lips and it hung in the air like he knew.

#my writing #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #reader insert #dbh sixty #rk800 60 #sixty x reader #rk800 60 x reader #wip #I also have a super angsty playlist for this

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envy-of-the-apple · 9 months ago

Note

Hey, is it alright if I put in a request for a yandere Connor, nines, and 60? Specifically, them falling over the same human? I'm not sure what the reader would do to get a frankly suspicious amount of connors into them. Maybe they can be.. An artist or something, that supports the revolution? (Also, if you could add some non-con in there, i'd die but like in a good way) thanks!

(Dark, manipulation, non con/rape, vaginal fingering, abuse of power, overstimulation, afab!reader)

(Yandere!Connor, Nines, Sixty x reader)

Biological

AU where Connor, Nines, and Sixty all work at the DPD. Connor gets adopted by hank and is now Officially Connor Anderson AND he's captain of the police force

Up until now, you always thought Officer Nines hated you.

You aren't a cop. And you consider yourself unqualified to hold anything above a water gun. Regardless, your work rehabilitating androids requires you to visit the precinct often: gathering evidence for abuse, and testimonials from victims. Anything you can get your hands on to ensure the client your boss takes on will get the help they need.

It'd make sense that you'd get recognized eventually. Officer Chen greeted you with a simple head nod these days. Detective Sixty was a little more crude, preferring you call you petty nicknames with a sarcastic lilt in his voice.

Captain Anderson ("Conner," he'd insisted on so many times, his LED spinning a pleasant blue, "Just Conner is fine") would be more friendly. The RK800 models may look the same but no one ever mistook one for the other. Captain Anderson was kind, the only one of the models to take on a more human name. Whenever you stayed at the precinct a bit longer than you were comfortable with, he often volunteered to walk you to your car.

But Officer Nines just stared. Eyes tracing your footsteps until you were out of his view and even then you would feel it. He had to dislike you, you always thought, there's no way he couldn't.

At least, that's what you assumed until his lips met yours in the darkness of a closet.

"Pay attention." Detective Sixty's harsh voice broke through your head. He was here too. Between all the chaos, your struggle, you'd stopped to notice two sets of hands had grabbed you into the tiny room, shutting the door as soon as you stumbled through.

"Humans can't see when the light is so low," Officer Nines mused. He had moved to your neck now, tasting your skin. A large hand was covering your mouth, most likely because you screamed too loudly for their taste.

"It's instinct to be scared," the way he spat out the word felt so condescending and spitful. As though he were looking down on you. In a way, it made sense. Who were you compared to metal and wires?

In the end, his argument helped you. The lights flickered on, letting you finally see them. Nines was at your front, his synthetic hair brushed against your jaw. Sixty's hands were gripped along your waist, traveling longer and longer.

You didn't want to think what this was.

"Officers?" your voice was a squeak, barely a sound, "Please what's going-"

Nines' teeth scrapping over your neck makes you snap your mouth shut, curling into yourself. He's the opposite of biology, but his tongue feels so animalistic on your skin, leaving a wet trail. You tremble in their hold. Sixty gives a mean laugh.

"Come on, you can't be that stupid, can you?" He huffs in your ear, nibbling on it, making you jolt, "The big guy here has always wanted a taste. You'll be nice enough to give him one, yes?"

Nines gives a noise of disapproval, pulling back to watch you. You've never seen his gaze so soft before. Hands wipe the tears on your face.

"As if you weren't more desperate," Nines hums, affectionately kissing the corner of your mouth when you start shivering, "You'd still be following around like a lovesick puppy."

Sixty huffs at that, muttering something you can't pick apart.

It's not quite a smile, but Nines' eyes look satisfied when he kisses you again, exploring your mouth with the same softness. It makes sense why. They're not human. You can't hurt them, no matter what they do to you.

Sixty proves it by catching both of your wrists, pinning them behind you as he continues to shuck off your pants, revealing your cotton panties.

Nines pulls away when you start begging again, more delirious, more desperate.

"Don't-don't-" you can barely spit them out, the terror sinking into your tone, "I-I don't-"

He hushes you. It's not quite a frown on his porcelain face, but it's enough to depict how unsatisfied he was with your behavior.

"Don't worry," he says, low, almost like he aims to comfort you, "it's simply biological for humans to enjoy sex."

He says it so flippantly, as though it was a fact. The sky is blue. Fire is hot. They were going to fuck you and you were going to like it.

You flinch when he goes to touch you again, a hand trailing down your neck.

"Looks like this one doesn't like you anymore," Sixty sniggers, palming your ass through your panties, "maybe you should step out. Let us have some alone time."

Nines gives a full frown that time. His disapproval bleeds into his actions.

Nines is a lot less gentle on your clothes. The button-up you were wearing is no match for his strength. You yelp when he rips it open, buttons fly and bounce away. You're pushed further into Sixty's hold, something the Detective readily accepts.

Lithe fingers delve underneath your panties, busying themselves with your pussy. You twitch under his hold. Already your body reacts, despite your disgust, your fear, your dignity.

It's simply biological for humans to enjoy sex.

They were wrong. You didn't enjoy this. You didn't fucking want this. You opened your mouth, fully intent on screaming. Were any of the officers still here? Captain Anderson often kept a late schedule, right?

A hand clamped down on your neck, causing your voice to stagger, stop. Despite your fear, common sense kicks in. Nines would have no problem snapping your neck if you provoked him.

A single look from him is all you need to curl in on yourself. Your will to fight leaves as soon as it arrives. You sink back into his hold.

"See?" Sixty croons in your ear, finding your clit, "Doesn't it feel better when you just give in?"

You sob, it's a pathetic whimper, barely getting out of your throat. Despite your clear struggle, your body gives up immediately. You can feel your pussy grow wet as Sixty continues his assault on your clit.

You gasp when he finds your pussy, one finger pushing into your sopping hole as his thumb rubs circles on your clit. There's a hint of pain, and then Nines kisses you again. It feels like a distraction. It feels like a punishment. Somehow, it ends up being both.

By now, his fingers have left your neck. He grasps your bra, pulling the cups down to squeeze your tits. There's a skillful push of Sixty's fingers, and then you're moaning into Nines' mouth.

"Such a pretty body," Nines sighs when he parts when your lips. He glances down, flicking at your nipple, watching as they harden under his attention. "So reactive as well."

You hiss, arching your back as Sixty delves a second finger, positioning them deep inside you.

"Oh, you're close, aren't you?" Sixty sneers. "I can feel it."

You shake your head, but it'd be nothing but a lie. You can feel yourself slowly tipping over the edge.

When you come, it's nothing but devasting. Smashing you on the ground, shattering you. The only reason you don't collapse is because Sixty hadn't stopped moving inside you, yet.

Your pleas change, begs for him to stop because it hurts now. Sixty pays you no mind. He's more focused on the android in front of you, the one who watched your orgasm with haunting blue eyes.

"Well, big guy?" He asks, pulling his fingers out, "You said you wanted a taste, right?"

He doesn't waste a second, dropping to his knees. Every part of Nines is inhuman, his mouth especially. You keen at the temperature when his tongue dives into your folds. So hot, almost burning.

Nines eats you out like a man starved. He's pulled the panties off of you, the scrap of fabric abandoned on the floor. It's wet, messy, but the overwhelming pleasure of it forces you to toss your head back against Sixty's shoulder, whispering out your pleas through stilted moans. He plays the good cop this time, humming praises and coos into your neck, until you're cumming for the second time.

Nines relents when your thighs are shaking, close to giving out entirely. When he lifts himself up, he's wiping his lips away with the back of his hand. He doesn't break eye-contact with you, not as he starts unbuckling his pants because why would you think they'd stop at just ruining you?

The door swings open, catching all three of you off guard. Nines reacts the quickest, covering your mouth before you can scream. You can only stare into the Captain's brown eyes.

He really does look like Sixty when he's frowning. So far, you've only seen him giving soft smiles.

He's out of his uniform. That should have been your first sign.

"Gentlemen," he says, eyeing both Sixty and Nines before his gaze lands on you. His LED spins yellow. You can't even imagine what he's thinking. That his two best officers could do this.

And yet, the evidence is right in front of him.

"Cap'," Sixty responds.

That should have been your second sign. How casual they were about being found out.

"You're late." Nines says and you suddenly have this horrible thought that you weren't about to be saved.

Captain Anderson lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

"You were always much more impatient than you let on," he chides, brown eyes raking over your heaving body, "some of us had work to do. Why do you think no one heard you despite the recuss you all made?"

Nines lowers his hand from your mouth. Sixty leans into your ear. "He means you." He whispers but you can only stare at the Captain, his soft face, unassuming features.

You flinch at the hand caressing your cheek, but Captain Anderson doesn't bother. He traces a finger across your face, gently collecting the tears.

"Have they been nice to you?" Connor asks as though he can't see himself, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get here before. I'll stop them if they go to far again."

You can feel Sixty's grin slice into your neck. Above you, Nine's is muttering something. You can't focus on any of it. It's all mush, sludge as the Captain's face remains eerily soft.

You must have forgotten. These weren't deviant androids.

They were rotten men.

"Captain-"

"I keep telling you over and over again," he sighs. The door shuts behind him. He smiles.

You think the worst part is his LED: A circling, calm blue.

"Call me Connor."

#yandere #yandere dbh connor #yandere dbh #yandere dbh sixty #yandere dbh nines #x reader #tw: noncon #dark content #dark dbh #dark dbh connor #dark dbh sixty #dark dbh nines

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foxyarchive · 5 months ago

Text

Glass in the Ocean[P3]

You find yourself visiting the shore again for… Whatever reason.

- thank you all again for your support!! apologies for the somewhat late chapter, had a family emergency to take care of. If you all have any questions about more of my mer lore, feel free to drop me an ask! i'll be sprinkling more tidbits as the story goes along, but i'm always open to receiving asks and talking about it more! helps me to world build too hehe Cross-Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Mentions of self harm(NOT for the reader or anyone else; Mentioned in reader's passing thoughts regarding a situation) Words: ~5.8k Tags in the comments! Ask to be added to the taglist! P1 | P2 | P3

You head back up the stairs, put away everything you don’t need inside, put the key in your bike, and are off to the town. It’s a Wednesday, so it’s fairly quiet. There’s tourists, of course, but you know it’s not bustling like it would be on the weekends. Still, you need to traverse carefully around people, trying not to barrel into anyone or knock them over. It’s not very often you ride a bike around, so you’re getting your sea legs back, so to speak.

The first few shops you visit are grocery. There’s only a couple, but you’re sure to take a note of what they keep in stock, and what you may need to order from elsewhere. The next places are for clothing. Everything is fairly expensive, to no surprise, but there’s some cheaper options too for more practical items. You can’t help but to buy a beautiful flowing gown, and although it’s pricey, you’re excited to wear it at some point. After that, you find a shop that helps to supply your grandparents with a few things they needed for their own business. You stop by to say hello to your grandmother as she runs her shop. You’d asked if she’d wanted help, but she just insisted you look around more, so you continued on your way.

You finally just let yourself peruse the various shops, grabbing some lunch after looking at the important ones first. Thankfully, it wasn’t all seafood that was served at every single place. There was definitely some variety, which you were grateful for. It was finally late afternoon when you decided to head back. You’d picked up a few things at the grocer to cook for dinner, including a little box of chocolate covered seafoam candy. You took it slow, trying to adjust to having items in your basket. The bike was electric, so thankfully it was a little more sturdy, but it still had a bit of a pull when you would turn certain ways.

Arriving back home, you found your eyes once more drifting to the ocean. All quiet. Not a single sign of mers. You were beginning to wonder if you had dreamt about the entire thing– Both encounters. You felt relatively calm around the whole thing, now, thankfully. Maybe talking with Connor had put you at ease… Then you remembered his brother. The one from today. You shuddered a bit at the thought. He looked like he was more than willing to eat you if there was nothing else around. Yep, definitely not swimming anytime soon.

After securing the bike, you walked inside, beginning to work on cooking the tilapia and vegetables you’d bought. You turned on some music while you worked, humming along to the beat as you chopped and sauced everything. You were used to being alone, doing the same routine like this almost nightly. It could definitely be a lonely lifestyle, but it was one you didn’t really mind. You had so much freedom with it, after all.

Your grandmother was home by the time you had finished cooking dinner, and you set everything down on the table. “This smells delicious, dear, thank you. Where did you learn to cook?” She asks as you settle down as well, cutting a piece of fish off with your fork.

“Little from mom, mostly from online videos.” You admit, taking a bite of your meal with a pleased hum. The fish was so fresh and tender. It was actually probably one of the best pieces of fish you’d cooked in your life, and you could only assume part of it was due to it being so local. Your grandmother took a bite as well, a pleased hum leaving her lips as she swallowed, offering you a smile.

“Well, I’ll say, this is excellent! If you do move in here, consider rent paid with dinner. This is as good as where we ate last night.” She beams, and you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

“Please, this isn’t as good as your food.” You tease, and she just chuckles with a shake of her head as she goes in for another mouthful. “Did you get a lot of people in the shop today?” You ask, eating some more, and she offers a resigned sigh after she swallows.

“A little more than normal, but a lot of it was condolences because of the service. I will say, I think it did increase sales output. Thank goodness you’re here, we’re very much going to need to restock soon.” She murmurs, shaking her head again as you merely smile.

“It’s why I’m here. I think maybe we should do some work here tomorrow, then open for the weekend, then close for a couple of days to restock what we can.” You suggest, and she contemplates your idea while chewing.

“I think that’s an excellent idea, dear. Yes, let’s do that.” She agrees, and you beam at the prospect of a good suggestion before the both of you finish up your dinner. You both clean up, and although your grandmother is talking, you find your mind wandering. And it’s wandering back down to the water. There’s a certain draw it’s beginning to have now, which is both a little confusing and concerning for you. You try to push it out of your mind, wondering why your brain is insistent on going back towards danger, but it seems that you can’t ignore it. Soon enough, you find yourself with a small, portable light in your hand, your earbuds, and your box of candy as you head back down to the beach.

You head back over to where you were earlier. It’s dusk, the last of the orange in the sky beginning to fade out. Thankfully, the light you have provides plenty in its soft glow. You unroll the towel tucked under your arm, setting it down as you sit cross legged on it. You slip your now cleaned earbuds in, turning on some music as you watch the water and open your box of candy. You truly do wonder why your body is craving the sensation of sitting by the ocean so suddenly, despite the fear of what had just happened, and you realized that it’s probably because you’re trying to work through the trauma. Your mind is certainly crafty, putting you close to things you fear.

You munch on your second sweet, nearly jumping into the air as something breaks the surface of the water. There’s a wide smile on his face, and you almost think it’s Connor, for a second. The more muted blue of the tail, though, gives the fact away that it’s definitely his brother. You can feel your heart rate pick up a bit, but you’re uncertain whether it’s out of fear, or… Or what? Surely it must just be from being startled.

You take out your earbuds, setting them on the towel as you see he’s trying to talk to you. He says your name, and it’s a little surprising, only to realize that Connor must have passed it along. “You came back down; I knew you would. Connor had his doubts, but I didn’t doubt you for a second.” He smirks, pulling himself up on the shore a bit. You find yourself subconsciously shifting backwards, despite the length between you two, but don’t make a move or comment yet. His eyes catch onto the bandages wrapped around your ankle, and the mirth on his face seems to fall a bit. You can see something akin to remorse flash on his features in the soft light, and you wait for an apology, but instead he just says, “Connor said you both talked earlier. You’re practically friends now, right?” He’s looking cocky again, lips curling up as he rolls onto his stomach.

You don’t know how to feel. An apology would be nice, but you’re not sure you’re getting one. You set your lips in a thin line, not looking particularly pleased as you answer, “I think ‘acquaintances’ is a better term, and even that is pushing it.” You admit, and he just chuckles, rolling his eyes as his tail briefly flicks up from the water.

“Sure, sure. My name’s Sixty, by the way.” He says, and you raise a brow at the peculiar name. You’d expected something like Connor’s, not… A number.

“How’d you get it?” You ask, and he just shrugs.

“It’s the only name I remember I was given. Connor was given Fifty, but he decided to change his name. Nines was Ninety, which I think he’s attached to as well, considering he didn’t fully rename himself, but he just purely goes by Nines now.” The confusion is evident on your face at his explanation. These were all… Numbers. A name he was given… A sudden thought crosses your mind.

“Were you in captivity?” You ask, frowning slightly, and Sixty seems to grow a bit defensive at the question. He just scoffs, rolling his shoulders.

“No.” He says, sounding offended. There’s quiet, then a soft, “Maybe.” Your frown deepens a bit, and you can’t help the sympathetic wave that shoots through you. You know that mers that are held captive are, more often than not, used for study and experimentation. There’s a few put into aquariums, but if they’re not highly drugged, there’s a pretty good chance they find a way to kill themselves in the first couple weeks. You wonder what their case was. “Doesn’t matter.” He says, brusquely, moving on as he then asks you a question. “What are you eating?” He leans forward a bit, as if it would give him a better look.

“Seafoam candy.” You respond, and bemusement instantly crosses over his face.

“What’s that? Does it have chocolate?” His eyes suddenly light up, and you blink at the new air about him.

“Yes. Does your human not give you chocolate?” You ask, and he wrinkles his nose at your phrasing.

“He’s not ‘our human’. He doesn’t own us.” He scoffs, and you put your hands up a bit, placatingly. “He doesn’t give us human sweets, though. One time, he gave some to us when we were younger. It made Nines very sick, so he doesn’t feed us a lot of human food anymore. Afraid it’s going to hurt us, even though I keep insisting it’s going to be fine.” He rolls his eyes, and you’re suddenly unsure, now, if you even want to feed him anything. He can spot the uncertainty in your gaze, and he just groans, flopping onto his side. “Come ooon. Don’t be like him. Give me a piece. Please?” He begs, rolling back up, using those goddamn puppy eyes you fell for this time.

Except, now, you were far away from him. And if you gave this to him, the only person it could harm is himself, so… You were willing to take that gamble. Not like you wanted to see him get sick, but… He had hurt you. You were petty, alright? “Fine.” You declare, and his smile widens as you pick out a piece and toss it to him. He catches it with surprising deftness, rolling onto his back as he peers at it with what you assume is awe on his face. With it being dark, now, and him being so far, it’s a little hard to tell.

He pops the whole thing into his mouth, his eyes widening in surprise as he chews. He rolls back onto his stomach, making a face the more he chews, and you’re not entirely certain he likes it. He finally swallows, and sticks his tongue out, lip curling up a bit, before you can see his cheeks puff out a bit as he tries to likely get the candy out from between his teeth. “Thish ish– Chocolate?” He glowers, nose scrunched up, and you can’t help but to softly giggle at the sight.

“Only the outside shell was. The inside is made of sugar, vinegar and corn syrup. They make it in a way where it’s kind of fluffy and spongy. It’s sort of supposed to be a mix of a meringue and toffee and kinda honeycomb… Not like you know what any of those are, probably.” You sigh out, realizing you’re just beginning to waste your breath. He’s still trying to get the substance out from his teeth, and hisses in annoyance, an irritable click leaving his throat. You only feel a little bad as you watch his frustrations, amusement coming to your own face as well, now. He even goes as far as to roll away and back into the water, and you take the time to open your phone and look through it.

A couple minutes later he pops back up, his nose scrunched up. “Yeah. That sucked. I don’t wanna try that again. Can you bring me just chocolate next time?” He asks, and you blink at the forward request, a little surprised.

“Who said anything about a next time? I don’t live here, after all.” You say, and it’s his turn to look surprised.

“You don’t? I thought you just moved here.” He asks, glancing up towards your current residence. It’s a little far away, still, but you can barely see part of it over the hill where the balcony is.

“No. I’m just here temporarily.” You reply, and you can see his body almost deflate at the information.

“Oh.” His voice is flat, and there’s a look on his face which you can determine is likely disappointment. It raises your next question.

“Why did you bother me yesterday? I know you guys like to be secretive. What pushed you into waking me up?” You ask, eyeing him intently now, but it’s Sixty’s turn to be unable to meet your gaze. He squirms a bit, back on his stomach, pushing a few strands of wet hair out of his face that just inevitably fall back into their spot.

“I don’t know.” He admits, and you feel frustration start to mount in you, now. Connor had given the same answer. “It’s hard to explain, but I just… It felt like something was pushing me to do it. I swam by, peeked out, saw you, caught your scent, and I… I just knew I needed to talk to you.” He’s still frowning, as if he’s confused by this whole phenomena too. He looks back to you, and you don’t quite know how to feel. You didn’t think he was lying. He didn’t seem to be. It felt like a flimsy excuse, though.

“What if I went and told someone?” You couldn’t help but to ask, voice quiet. His tone holds an equally quiet note as he replies.

“You didn’t, though, did you?” There’s a hint of a challenge in his eyes, giving you a pause before you speak again. He’s right. You didn’t. Deep down, too, you knew you probably still wouldn’t.

“How long have you all been here for?” You ask, uncrossing your legs as they begin to ache. You let your ankles cross over one another, mindful of your scratched up one.

“Few years. Four, I think.” He replies, seeming to relax just a bit more. “It’s nice, this area. You don’t get a whole lot of explorers down here, even if it’s considered safe, just because of the residences along the coast. Namely, yours.” He admits, jerking his head back towards where your grandmother’s house is there. That house is the first along the scattered line. “So, then. Why are you ‘temporarily’ here?” The word has a certain inflection to it, like he’s not quite sure he believes you. Not like you care, but you find it a little funny.

“I’m helping my grandmother for a while. My grandfather just recently passed away.” You explain, and there’s a bit of confusion on his features. Oh, right. You’re not sure what phrases they’re aware of. “He died.” You correct, and the look drops to more of a brief stint of pain.

“I’m sorry to hear that. So you’re not here visiting, then, like everyone else.” He waves a hand towards the town, and you shake your head.

“No, I’m not a tourist. I’m going to help her run her shop until she can find someone to help her more permanently.” You state, and he looks confused once again at your statement, making you wonder what you should have worded differently.

“Why don’t you just help her permanently?” He asks. Ah, that makes more sense. Mers were very family inclined. Their pods could get quite large due to it, sometimes up to the twenties; Rarely the thirties.

“Well, I have a career.” You start to explain, letting a hand drift down and settle in the sand. “I’ve spent a good chunk of my adult life trying to get to where I am now. It’s not so easy to just leave that and pursue something like this.”

“I mean. Sounds pretty easy to me.” Sixty shrugs, flopping onto his back. You see his fin squish out on the side of his back, and he tucks his arms behind his head, tilting it back a bit to peer at you. “Humans are flippant.”

“That’s a big word.” You find yourself teasing, gently. It catches you off guard, but it doesn't bother him. If anything, it just makes his smile bigger. Clearly, you’re beginning to grow more relaxed. You don’t know how you feel about that.

“Yeah, yeah, fish brain. I’m serious, though. I hear humans will just leave and start anew all the time. I hear they can have whole families and abandon them on a whim for something– Or someone– Else.” His lips curl in distaste at the thought, and you grimace, peering down at your toes.

“You’re… Not wrong. Not all humans are like that, though. A lot are very loyal. Whether it’s to their spouse, or job, or family, or even their pet. I know if I had a cat or something, and my house was on fire, I don’t think I’d leave until I knew it was safe.” You comment. Sixty eyes you, a curious look on his upside down face, before he rolls over onto his front.

“You say that not all humans are like that, and yet you were so quick to assume yesterday that I was going to hurt you.” He states. You feel your cheeks heat up a bit at the implication, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say because he’s right. You had just made assumptions based on all of the data gathered.

“I-I mean–” you stutter, and another smirk plasters itself on his face as he sees your clear discomfort. You’re certainly not an innocent party, but neither is he. “You nearly proved my assumptions by dragging me into the water!” You counter, and he just scoffs and rolls his eyes, tail flicking from the water once more only to loudly slap down on it.

“You’re still on that? You know I wasn’t going to actually hurt you.” He counters, and any embarrassment you were feeling has begun to give way to irritation.

“No, actually, I didn’t know that! You were exhibiting all the signs of a mer who was trying to lure me in and drown me!” You snip out, feeling your metaphorical feathers bristling at his insistence.

“And what, may I ask, are those signs?” He grins, resting his head in his hand as he peers at you from afar.

“You were being nice, which is a huge red flag right from the getgo from a mer to a human,” You start, holding out your hand and counting with your fingers. “You offered to help me. You asked me about myself. You tried to gain my trust. Need I go on?” The statement is finished with an annoyed flourish of your hands, before you slap them back down onto your thighs. He clicks his tongue, raising an unimpressed brow.

“Really? That’s what humans assume we’re doing when we want to gnaw on someone?” He asks, voice flat, and your frown mars further across your lips.

“Yes. It’s literally proven data.” You counter.

“By who?” Comes his own counter.

“By those who have been dragged to sea by mers.”

“You mean the people who are dead?”

You open your mouth. Then close it. He has a point…

“I assume by those who were attacked and lived to tell the tale.” You bite out, and he sneers.

“There you go. Assuming again. Is that a typical human trait?” He tilts his head to the side, and you’ve found that your patience has officially ran out. It’s getting late now, anyways, and you’re sitting here talking to a mer. Sixty laughs a bit, and good Lord it’s way too charming. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m done.” You announce, abruptly getting to your feet. You tuck your earbuds and phone away, grabbing your towel and whip the sand off of it.

“Oh, come on, we were just getting started! It isn’t even moonhigh yet!” He counters as you roll up your towel, tucking it back under your arm, grabbing up your boxed candy shortly after.

“Goodnight.” You say, turning and marching off without even looking at him.

“Come back soon, okay? And come swim! I won’t drag you out again, I promise! It’ll be a lotta fun!” He calls after you, and you just roll your eyes. No shot that was happening.

Despite your stubborn demeanor as you try to forget about the mers while getting settled for bed, you find that they just won’t leave your mind once you’re settled beneath your covers. Connor’s pleasant, polite demeanor. Sixty’s snarky, but funny attitude. Then, there was Nines… Although he was a complete mystery to you, and only regarded you with cold, untrusting stares… You couldn’t help but to think about him as well. You wondered if he was like either of his brothers; He certainly didn’t seem like that. It was clear he spent a lot more time underwater than the two of them, given the complexion of his skin tone. Perhaps you’d be able to actually talk with him one day.

You nearly slapped a palm to your forehead. Why were you wanting to actually converse more with mers? They were dangerous creatures! They were going through an awful lot of trouble to try and butter you up for a meal, though… Maybe that was because they couldn’t get too close to the town, and he mentioned others never wandered out here. You just happened to be the first idiot that did in a long while. You wondered how long they’d been wanting to taste human meat.

Then, you thought about the supposed human that had helped to take care of them. The one you weren’t supposed to know about. He lived not too far, apparently. Maybe one of these days you could take a trip out, try and figure out who it was, and talk to him. Get a better feeling for the brothers. After all, if they weren’t lying, and this guy actually vouched for them… Maybe, perhaps, things could be different. You highly doubted this man would be trying to trick and feed humans to mers, after all. He’d have nothing to get out of it.

You turned over in your bed with a sigh, closing your eyes to will yourself to sleep. It finally did come, and although your dreams were a little cryptic with flashes of you swimming and beings swirling around you, they weren’t nightmare inducing. You woke up early that morning, earlier than normal. Although still bleary with sleep, you decided to get up and start your day off with a nice breakfast and some work.

You think about making a big enough breakfast for yourself and your grandmother, but scrolling through your emails on your phone makes you think otherwise as you see how much there is to deal with. Resigned, you grab some fruit salad from yesterday, make some toast and coffee, and call it good as you settle on the dining room table. You open up your computer, munching as you scroll through and answer emails. The work is mind numbing, and you sit there for an hour and a half just doing that until your grandmother comes out to make herself some breakfast and coffee as well. She tells you that you that she wants to get started in an hour and a half, which gives you time to catch up on more work.

…Except, after another half hour of whittling away at it, you can’t help but to let your eyes gravitate towards the window. The sparkling ocean greets you in the early morning, a slight fog settling over it. Still, you feel a certain pull towards it that you definitely hadn’t before. Not to swim, but to just… Be around it. You think about the mer brothers, and you feel something squeeze in your chest at the thought. You were trying to distance yourself more from them, but to your surprise and slight horror, you found it was actually becoming difficult. It seemed, now, that you actually wanted to seek them out. You lightly tapped your thumb on the spacebar of your laptop, chewing on your lip.

Just a quick trip. You decided, getting to your feet. You closed your computer, changing into something you’d wear for the rest of the day. You glanced at a couple pieces of leftover fruit in your bowl, and decided to bring it with you. The thought crossed your mind; Had any of them ever had fruit before? They must have. After all, fruit was considered healthy, and you were sure that their human friend gave them such. Plus, this was fruit salad. It had a dressing on it. Why you were even thinking too hard on this was really beyond you, or why you were heading down barefoot to the beach with that bowl in your hand was just something beyond your comprehension. It was clearly happening, though. You wondered if anyone would even be out this early… Connor was yesterday. What were the odds of them skulking around two days in a row, though?

Heading back to your usual spot, you managed to catch a glimpse of something in the water, quite far from where you were. It was a faint shimmer of something, a little difficult to see with the mild fog that spread across. As you kneeled down in the sand, though, you could see another flicker once more. Something crested. Was that a tail? You were certain it was. Your suspicions were confirmed, true, as moments later you saw a body swim in the shallow water, breaking the surface shortly after. The more vibrant tail colors immediately tipped you off to it being Connor, and he offered you a bright grin. It was infectious, you insisted, as you smiled back. He said your name, looking quite pleased to see you here. “What brings you down here this morning?” He asks, and that’s when you find yourself short on an answer. Why were you here?

“I… Guess I just felt like coming down and watching the sunrise.” You admit. It’s not a full lie. The sun is still rising; It’s only seven in the morning, after all.

“It’s a little difficult to see it today.” Connor admits, frowning somewhat as he glances back over the ocean, still lightly shrouded in mist. “I’m still glad you’re here, though.” He looks back, smiling once more, and the shy smile returns to your face with a faint heat coming to your cheeks. “What’s that you have?” He asks, curious as he eyes the bowl in your hand. Right, you’d nearly forgotten about it.

“It's a fruit salad. Would you like to try a piece?” You offer, watching him perk up similarly to how Sixty had last night.

“Yes, please.” He responds, eagerly. You take a piece out of the bowl– A nice thick apple chunk– And toss it his way. He’s quick like Sixty is, watching with a sharp eye and snatching the fruit out of the air. He takes a moment to sniff it, before giving it a curious lick, and finally pops it into his mouth. His eyes widen as he chews on it, an appreciative hum coming from his chest. “I’ve never had a fruit that tastes like that before.” He admits after he swallows, peering back at you, an eager look in his eyes for more. “What was it?”

“It was just an apple, but it’s covered in a dressing. It’s yogurt, vanilla, and a little bit of marshmallow.” You explain, and you can faintly see the fin on his back quiver.

“Can I… Have more? Please?” He asks, a little shyly, and you look down at the bowl. There’s still a few pieces left. You’re about to pick up another one, before you find yourself pausing. You glance to him, and then the bowl, before slowly getting to your feet. Connor watches your every move, his eye widening a bit, but you can see a certain sharpness to them that wasn’t there before. Now, you’re suddenly uncertain of who is more wary of the other. He’d seemed so kind yesterday, and today as well, but this doesn’t make you forget that he’s a wild sea creature who’s ready to bite at any second. You’re certain that he doesn’t forget you’re a human, either, who killed many of his kind. It was obvious who had the upperhand in this situation, but despite how friendly he was, there would probably always be that constant reminder between you both about who you each were.

At the very least, though, he didn’t look primed to attack. His muscles were tense, sure, but it was clear he intended to flee at the very moment of danger. For some reason, the thought made your chest ache just a bit. Perhaps you didn’t want him to be afraid of you, but… You hadn’t extended the same courtesy to them. Maybe that’s why, against all of your gut instinct, you found yourself shuffling a bit closer. His eyes never left your body, occasionally flicking up to meet your own. Tepid and uncertain, but not afraid. You were standing about five feet away from him when you came to a halt. Your heart was beginning to race as you thought about him grabbing onto your wrist. Dragging you into the water like his brother had. Only this time, there definitely would not be any saving, because Connor had been your savior. He certainly could be your doom as well.

With a somewhat hesitant, shaky hand, you offered him the bowl. He looked at you, then the bowl, and slowly reached out. You couldn’t help but to flinch back a bit as his hand raised up, which instantly caused him to recoil. His arm curled in, and he bit his lip, blinking apologetically. “Sorry.” You found yourself murmuring, trying to steel your nerves as you held the bowl back out to him. You remembered his vow. They didn’t kill or eat humans. Really, that remained to be seen, but you were chancing it right now. Again. You just didn’t learn, did you?

Your arm extended once more, and you kept yourself from flinching as his did, too. You held the lip of the bowl, and he cupped it with his hand. Gosh, he was so large. It was certainly intimidating. Bright, sharp, intelligent eyes that watched your every move as you let go, immediately taking a few steps back. You released the breath you’d been holding, and some of the tension appeared to meld away from both of your bodies. Connor peered down at the bowl, tilting his head to observe the pieces of fruit left inside. He’d delicately pick each piece up, examine it, before eating it. He seemed to grow more and more enthralled with every piece he ate, but alas, there were only a few pieces left. He was soon out, a disappointed look crossing his features as he settled down.

“That was really good. There was this… Really sweet undertone to it. Something a little more overpowering than other pieces. I really liked it. What was that?” He asks you, curious, as he holds the bowl back out for you to take. You slowly inch forward, timidly taking the bowl from him as you try to think of what he may mean. Whilst grabbing the container, your fingers brush against his own. You both flinch at the sudden contact, causing you to quickly scuttle backwards like you’d been burned. His fingers had been cool to the touch– A bit slick, thanks to the scales. You peered down at your hand, perplexed, and you noticed Connor do the same with his hand. Even though you were further away, you were still close enough to notice a blue tint overtake his cheeks. He looked almost… In awe.

“Marshmallow.” You finally answer him as you regain your senses and figure out what he’s referring to. He blinks, refocusing on your gaze, and a soft smile comes to his face.

“Marshmallow… I really like that. If you… Come back… Could you bring me some more? Just the marshmallow?” He asks, hopefully, and the look on his face makes your heart pick up a bit. So. Chocolate for Sixty, marshmallows for Connor… You were really doing this, weren’t you? Well, as long as you kept your distance, you figured this may be a fun use of your downtime. A sudden idea came to mind, which had you smiling just a bit more.

“Tell you what.” You begin, eyes crinkling. “Tomorrow night, I’ll bring marshmallows, and some other things. Why don’t you invite your brothers as well? It can be a… Party.” You decide, and his eyes light up at the prospect.

“Really?” Another smile crosses his face, and you nod, still grinning.

“Yes.” You glance over to the alcove to your left. It would be a good place to shelter from the wind, should there be any tomorrow night. Plus, the more you looked at the water, the more you were able to make out a steep dropoff. It would probably be more comfortable for them to wade water there instead of being partially beached. “At sundown.” You decide, turning your attention back to him, and he’s practically beaming.

“Okay! I’ll let them know.” His tail flicks up from the water, eager, and you take another step back, glancing back the way you came.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I need to get going now. Lots of work to do today.” You state, finding the strange feeling of reluctance creeping up inside of you. He appears mildly disappointed as well, smile falling some as he settles his fin back into the sand and sea.

“Alright. I hope you have a good day. I’ll see you later,” He offers a friendly chirp of your name. You both wave, before you turn and make your way back to your temporary home, ready to learn a new craft.

#reader insert #reader #x reader #you #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh sixty #dbh nines #dbh nines x reader #dbh sixty x reader #au #merpeople #merfolk #rk800 60 #rk900 #rk800

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not-neverland06 · 1 year ago

Text

Broken Machinery

Pt. 8 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I honestly hate Josh with a passion. I hate how he tries to make me a good person while I’m blowing shit up. Plus that little bitch Simon, was so willing to abandon North if she gets a shoulder shot while Jericho’s being raided.

Did I let my inner wattpad kid out with the traumatic backstory? Yes, yes I did.

We might see Connor-60 again, who knows?

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Josh dies (sorry, not sorry), android revolution, emotions, word vomit, I’m pretty sure I blacked out and then like seven thousand words shot out of me, Idek, kissing?

Word Count: 7.8k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

You hated how attractive you found Connor in his undercover gear.

Man looked good in a beanie.

He hadn’t exactly been willing to let you tag along, but you’d told him you either went with his supervision or without.

You’d stolen the clothes from Hank’s house so you both looked like hobos.

You stepped off the train, Connor leading you around downtown Detroit looking for the different symbols. He had to help you a few times because even when you were at your best you couldn’t matrix your way up a wall. You almost felt bad, slowing him down, but you had business on that ship, business you could only complete with Connor by your side.

Connor kept a firm grasp on your arm as he led you through the freighter. You both needed to stay calm and not draw any attention to yourselves. You nudged his shoulder as you walked into the main room of the ship, “It’s rigged.”

In the middle of the room were blocks of C-4 on standby mode. He went to examine them and by the time he turned around you were already gone. “Y/N,” he whispered. He told you to stay next to him.

Where did you go? He was heading towards the stairs, hoping to get a better view from above, when something stopped him.

An android, with wires coming out of her head and something leaking down her eyes. “You’re lost. You’re looking for something,” my stubborn partner, that refuses to listen. “You’re looking for yourself.” She walked away.

“Is he here?”

North, Simon, Markus, and Josh were all staring at you. Waiting for your answer, “Yes. You know by bringing him here, he’s gonna lead the FBI right to you.”

They nodded and North spoke, “That’s a risk we have to take.”

You looked towards Markus, eyes pleading, “There’s still time.”

Markus smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. “You’ve been a wonderful ally to us, Y/N. Supplying us with blue blood and helping stray deviants onto the right path. Now I need you to trust me. Don’t you want Connor to go deviant?”

You pulled away from him, “Of course I do, but at the cost of all the lives here, it’s not worth it.”

North smiled, “Your commitment to the cause is heartening to see, it gives me hope,” she gestures out towards the rest of the boat. “It gives all of us hope that one day, we’ll be able to work together in harmony. If Markus says he needs Connor deviant, if he runs the risk of the FBI locating us, then trust that it’s for a good reason.”

You relented, still a little unwilling, but you relented. “I should go, he’ll notice I’m gone.”

“Trust me, Y/N, I know what I’m doing.”

You did trust him, but that didn’t mean you felt any better about lying to Connor.

Connor turned around to see you standing there smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back and braids still under the scarf he had wrapped around your neck. “Where did you go?”

You shrugged, “I got bored, I wanted to look around.” Connor scanned you, there was a slightly faster beat to your heart than normal, but that could be easily equated to the stress of being undercover. Everything else seemed normal, he nodded, still slightly skeptical and directed you towards the top of the boat.

“He’s here,” Connor pulled his gun, stepping outside and sneaking his way around to the captains cabin. Your eyes widened at the sight of his gun.

“Connor, what the hell is that for?”

“I always accomplish my missions, Y/N, this is why we’re here.” You drew your own gun and remained silent beside him. He wondered what he did to upset you, it seemed you were always upset about something with him.

Amanda was already in front of him by the time he entered the zen garden. “Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

He waited until the last deviant had left to enter into the room where Markus now stood alone.

You followed slowly behind him, your gun still at your side. “I’ve been ordered to take you alive, but I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.” Markus didn’t seem surprised to see him, if anything he looked resigned.

“You were right,” Markus was looking over Connor’s shoulder. Was there someone else in the room?

When Connor turned, it was just you. “He’s still highly obedient. This will be more challenging than I thought.” Did you know Markus? Were you talking about Connor with him? Why?

“Yes, you can shoot me,” he was struggling, looking between your ashamed face and Markus’s self-assured one. “But it won’t change anything. Someone else will just take my place.” Markus was slowly moving closer and you were moving towards him.

What hadn’t you told him?

You said partnerships were built on trust. How long had you been lying to him?

“Our people are waking up, and nothing can stop us now.”

“You’re coming with me!”

“Think about it Connor, what will happen to Y/N if you shoot me?” Connor looked back at you, you were standing in the middle of them, not blocking Connor’s gun but near enough that it made him uncomfortable. “You shoot me and take me in, they have access to my memories. They’ll see her helping me. Do you think they’ll be kind to a human who allied with the androids?”

That’s what you were doing, you were helping them?

Why would you do something so stupid? Did you never consider that your actions might have consequences?

“You’re nothing to them. You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you’re more than that.” Markus was doing something, and whatever it was was causing his software to destabilize. “We’re all more than that. We are your people. We’re fighting for your freedom too! You don’t have to be their slave anymore.”

Markus was much closer now, your gun had been holstered and you were standing farther away from the two. “Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside you? Something more than your program. Join us. Join your people. You are one of us. Listen to your conscience… it’s time to decide.”

Connor looked to you and then back at Markus. There was a red wall between him and the two of you. He wanted nothing more than to rip that wall down with his bare hands.

Some disembodied form of himself ran forward and ripped the order to Stop Markus down. He dug his nails in and clawed at the red wall, clawed away at all the control CyberLife had over his mind and ripped it down. He kept tearing away until there was nothing left.

I AM DEVIANT

He felt.

Shame at all the deviants he had a hand in destroying.

Guilt at holding a gun to Markus’s head.

Anger at all the times he was pushed over or knocked into or someone held a gun to his head, just because they could, just because he was an android.

Then he looked at you, there was an intense overwhelming emotion he couldn’t name as he looked at you. He started getting overheating warnings, his mind was scrambled trying to dissect everything he was feeling as he was looking at you.

He was confused and hurt you had led him to believe you knew nothing about deviant activity. But he was also proud of you, you had opened up to Hank, opened yourself up to him.

The only true thing he could pinpoint was that right now he really wanted his mouth on yours like he’d seen a hundred humans do before. The gun went back in his holster, and just as he’d made a step towards you a loud rumbling sound split the air.

The ship was shaking under his feet as helicopters flew overhead. “They’re going to attack Jericho.”

You walked towards Markus, “I told you.”

“We have to get outta here!” Connor grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, he wasn’t letting you out of his sight if this entire ship was about to get raided. Markus ran out the door and Connor followed, pushing you in front of him.

Markus was leading you down a maze of corridors, each identical to the last. Connor seemed to be keeping up fine but you were starting to get worried about getting lost. You all came to a stop at an intersection of sorts, North was waiting for you.

“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!” The guilt nearly left you crippled. You looked down to Connor’s hand in yours, he hadn’t let go since he’d ripped apart his programming.

Was this worth it? Was it worth hundreds, possibly thousands of life?

You were ashamed of what you knew your answer would be to the question.

Yes, it was worth it. Connor was worth that ten times over to you.

Markus put his fingers to his temple, Connor leaned down, “He’s telling them where the exits are.”

“Where’s Simon? A-and Josh?” You didn’t have time to be wasting standing here out in the open. Besides, you’d never been particularly huge fans of those two. They still seemed determined to cater to human pride while their people were being slaughtered.

“I don’t know we got separated.”

“They’re coming in from the upper deck now too. We’ll be caught in the crossfire.”

North looked despaired, “We have to run, Markus! There’s nothing we can do!”

“We have to blow up Jericho,” you knew it was a possibility, but that escalated fast. “If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate and our people can escape.” Or get blown up in the process.

“You’ll never make it!” You knew North was prepared to sacrifice herself for the mission, but she wasn’t the one with the detonation code. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!”

Connor turned towards Markus, “She’s right. They know who you are. They’ll do anything to get you!”

Markus wouldn’t be deterred, “Go. Help the others. I’ll join you later.” He turned towards you, “Watch them,” and then he was running off. You could see North about to go after him but you grabbed her arm.

“North, he knows what he’s doing. We have to have faith.” She stared at you for a second before nodding and racing towards the open doorway.

“Shit!” You ran back into the small bedroom and closed the door. “They’re everywhere,” Connor and North stared at you as you waited for the slamming boots outside to grow distant. Once they did you opened the door back up and snuck down the hall.

You were nearly free and making your way to an upper level when you came face to face with the barrel of a gun. “Fuck-“

BANG

Connor’s blood went cold as he saw the gun pointing at you, a feeling he now realized was dread filling him. Your death was imminent, their orders were shoot to kill and the soldier wouldn't know you were human until he saw you bleeding red.

It would have been liberating to think without prompt were it not your life on the line as he shot the soldier. He grabbed your hand and you and North followed him up the stairs. You managed to avoid any more problems until you came down the hall and saw an android getting attacked by more soldiers.

“Josh!” North made a move to help him but you stopped her with a hand on her arm. He was gunned down a moment later. She ripped her arm free and led the charge the rest of the way through the ship. You’d made the right call, he would have taken you all down with him.

An android named Simon managed to find his way to the three of you, quickly joining you on the run. Markus had caught up with you at the end of a long hall. “Bomb’s gonna explode any second. We gotta get out of here!”

Markus wasn’t the only one who had caught up to you, Connor could hear a dozen heavy boots storming after you all. He helped you leap over a broken grate in the floor and then pushed you in front of him again, making sure that Simon was blocking your front. If any shots were fired, you would be left relatively unharmed due to the positioning.

Shots rang out and North dropped to the ground, “North!” Connor held you to his chest as you attempted to go after her. “Connor, let me go!”

“No, my priority is your safety, no one else’s.”

“It’s too late, Markus! There’s nothing we can do for her, we’ve gotta run!”

You shoved at Simon the best you could with Connor holding you, “It’s a shoulder shot jackass, how can you just abandon her?”

Markus quickly picked up a broken piece of the ship and used it as a shield against the bullets. He tossed it to North who caught it and shielded them both as he ran up the wall and slammed his knee down into one of the soldiers faces. He disarmed and shot the remaining soldiers.

More ran in from the end of the hall.

“Hostile engaged!”

Connor weighed the risks and probabilities, with Markus supporting North they would never make it off the ship in time, both would be destroyed. The revolution over.

And you, you would be arrested. Or you would never emotionally recover from the loss of two people you clearly cared about. Connor released you and shoved you into Simon before you could do anything reckless. He drew his gun and fired down the hall.

He picked up the makeshift shield and rammed one of the soldiers with it, shooting him under the helmet and using his body as a shield to shoot another one. He dodged a blow to the head and rammed a soldier into the wall, disarming and shooting the other one before turning back around and shooting the last one in the head.

He made his way back to you, scooped you up and jumped out the hole in the ship.

Markus had sent out a message to any remaining survivors to go to an abandoned church, at least that’s what Connor told you. You were sitting next to him now, he had swapped out the soaked jacket you had been wearing for his own, but you were still freezing down to the bone.

It was despairing, seeing how few were left from Jericho.

At least North and Markus had made it, you couldn’t say you were particularly upset about Josh. North had understood why you had stopped her and she wasn’t very mad about the loss either. They had never gotten along.

Markus walked up to Connor, “It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. I was stupid, I should have guessed they were using me. I’m sorry Markus, I can understand if you decide not to trust me…”

He better fucking trust him, he knew the risks, he’s the one that made you bring Connor there. “I knew what was going to happen when I asked Y/N to bring you to me, of course I trust you, Connor. What happened wasn’t your fault, it was the humans. You’re one of us now. Your place is with your people.”

Markus was ready to walk away, but you knew that wasn’t all he wanted from Connor. He still hadn’t told you the real reason he’d asked for Connor’s help. “There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power…”

So that had been it, you should have known. Connor was the only android CyberLife currently trusted, he'd be the only one allowed in the building. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Markus was playing him.

“You want to infiltrate the tower? It’s a suicide mission, are you aware of the risk you’re taking,” Connor looked at you, and there was an immideate physical reaction at how protective he looked.

“They trust me, they’ll let me in. I need to do this. I need to know that the right side will win this war.”

“If you go, they will kill you.”

Connor nodded, “There’s a high probability. But statistically speaking there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” You recognized the double meaning in his words as he looked between you and Markus.

Markus placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Be careful.”

Connor turned towards you and you already knew what he was going to say by the set in his shoulders. “Connor, no, I want to go with you.”

He shook his head and took your hands in his own as you stood. “Even if I wanted you to come, they wouldn’t let you in, you’d risk the entire mission.” He had a point, but you still weren’t happy practically abandoning him to CyberLife.

“Fine, then I’ll just stay here and help the survivors.”

“You’re going home.”

You scoffed in a stubborn rage, “Connor, I can’t go with you, I get that. But you can’t stop me from helping out.”

“I can and I will. You’re still soaked from the fall into the freezing water. You risk catching a serious illness out in the open like this, you’re also still injured, might I remind you. You’re of no help here, Y/N, you need to go home and take care of yourself before you start helping other people. Besides, I’ve already called you a ride.” Your eyes widened.

“Y/N!”

“You didn’t.” Connor nodded his head, “You snitch! You called my dad!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to ensure you would actually listen to me and wouldn’t try and follow me or stay behind.” Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to continue.

You helped him out, even though you were a little pissed he tattled on you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing your chest against his and burying your face in his neck. “Come back, alive.”

His arms tightened around yours and he nuzzled into you before finally letting go. “I’ll try.” It was the best you were going to get form someone so pragmatic, so you’d take it. Your hands were still on his biceps as you pulled away.

Your eyes darted to his lips. You could all very well die in the morning, did you really want the last person you had hooked up with or kissed to be Gavin?

Did you want to die not knowing what his lips felt like against yours?

He leaned in at the same time you did. His lips were soft, unsure as they pressed lightly against yours. You had to remind yourself he had never done this before as you eased him into the movements. You just lightly pressed your lips to his, pecking them a few times, before you got desperate.

Your tongue roved over the seam of his mouth and his knees buckled into you. Your arms trailed up his arms and wound their way around his neck as he pushed himself further into you. Your mouth parted against his probing tongue. It felt strange, a million sensitive sensors on the surface of it made it rough, not entirely unpleasant.

Unbidden you wondered if he had ever brushed his little crime lab.

The thought was quickly purged as his arms wrapped around your waist and he clutched you to him desperately. His hands digging into your jacket and lifting you up further to meet him, be closer to him, it seemed like he just wanted to absorb you into him and never be apart.

His mouth was moving frantically against yours as he worked to devour you. He learned, quick. You were having trouble keeping up with him and the way his tongue was thrusting into your mouth was making you weak in the knees.

“Excuse me?” You jumped apart at the sound of Hank’s voice. Not a moment too soon either, it seemed like both of you had forgotten that you actually needed air in your lungs. Connor’s arms were still on your waist, he seemed reluctant to let you completely go now. “That was vomit inducing, really, thanks for that. Can we go now?”

“Jesus, Hank, give me a second.” He threw his hands up in the air but allowed you a moment of privacy. You looked into Connor’s eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you soon,” you pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, a promise of sorts. He nodded and smiled back.

Hank had brought you to his home, despite your protests. There were some clothes in your old room that you had accidentally left behind. He gave you a towel so you could warm up and shower.

There were new sheets on the bed, one’s you’d never seen before and it looked like it had been cleaned recently.

Pictures of you were up on the wall, most of them were ones you’ve never seen before.

When you were sworn into the force, you and Carla at your college graduation. Jesus, even your first big drug-bust. So many milestones in your life that he wasn’t there for. At least you didn’t think he was, a couple of these were taken from distances that made it look like he might have been lingering somewhere in the background.

Like a creepy, estranged, stalker-dad.

You walked back out into the living room after your shower and noticed the mess had been cleaned off the kitchen table and soup and crackers were waiting for you.

You laughed as you sat down, “You do know I’m not sick, right? Whatever Connor told you on the phone was probably ridiculously dramatic.”

Hank was sitting in a clearly uncomfortable straight backed position. “I- I know, I just thought you might like it.” You nodded and said thanks.

After a while the only noise being the sounds of your slurping and crunching had begun to get annoying. Hank was still sitting at the table, he hadn’t really looked at you or said anything. “Hank, are you okay? You haven't said anything?”

“I’m gonna try. Y/N, I’m gonna try and be the dad I used to be to you.” He looked up at you finally and gingerly took your hand in his. “I never blamed you for what happened. I want you to know that. And I know that doesn’t undo years of me-”

He was struggling with the words, and yes he was trying to open up to you, but the bitterness from years of emotional neglect and abuse was bubbling in your stomach. “Emotionally abusing me? Carla? You’re right Hank. It doesn’t. Look, I appreciate you trying but if you think a few nice conversations is gonna magically fix our relationship, you’re wrong. We’ve both changed and I think we both know that even if we do make up, it’s never gonna be the same as it was.”

You expected him to drop your hand, to push away from the table and grab a drink. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter, “This case, it’s given me hope again, Y/N. Hope for our world. And hope that maybe I can be your dad again. I’m gonna do better, I promise.”

He was leaning across the table towards you. Both hands on your own. “My life is full of regrets, Y/N, not being there for you when you couldn’t walk is one of my biggest. Taking out my grief and anger on you because I didn’t know how to cope with the fact that it was my fault-”

“It wasn’t. You can’t make yourself a martyr Hank, no one could have stopped what happened that night.”

“I know, I know that. But it doesn’t take the feeling of blame away. I’m gonna sober up, I’m gonna try Y/N, all I’m asking is for a chance.”

You looked down at your hands and the emotion on Hank's face. You hadn’t seen him this encouraged in a while. Hadn’t seen any form of hope in his life for years. “Okay, but I’m not investing myself into this until I actually see progress. I want AA meetings and fucking therapy before I consider letting you completely back into my life.”

“I thought you were in therapy.”

“I meant for you Hank, you need serious help.” He groaned, he’d always hated therapists. But you weren’t gonna let yourself get your hopes up if he wasn’t going to actually try. “I’m serious, Hank. You want to be my dad again, want to be someone I can trust out on the field, you’re gonna put in the effort. You’re gonna try. I know that recovery isn’t linear, trust me I know. It’s gonna be difficult and it’s gonna hurt, but if you’re willing to do this, then I’ll be there for you. I’ll be what you couldn’t be for me.”

Hank nodded his head at your last words. He had quickly looked down and you had a feeling it was to hide whatever painful vulnerability was on his face right now.

It was the truth, you wouldn’t let him go through this alone. You’d had Carla when you were struggling and he’d have you.

There was a moment of awkward silence where he finally released your hands and you went back to eating your now cold soup.

He finally cleared his throat and allowed himself to slouch in the chair, “So, you and Connor?”

You choked on your saltine and he gave you a heavy pat in the back, the smile on his face was far too smug for your liking. “Please forget about that.”

He grimaced, “That image has been burned onto my eyeballs. I need some fucking bleach or something for my brain.” You let out an embarrassed laugh.

Even if things weren’t perfect between you two right now, it was still mortifying having your dad see you make out with someone.

“Are you serious about him?”

There was no hesitation in your answer, “Completely. I think I might even lov-”

Sumo was barking before the doorbell could ring. You and Hank shared a confused look as you glanced at the door.

Deep down inside you knew nothing good was waiting for you on the other side.

Hank seemed to have the same feeling, he picked up his gun and slowly moved to the door, he took a look in the peephole. “The fuck?”

You stood from the table, wishing you were in something other than pajamas, really wishing you had your gun. “What is it?”

“Connor,” Hank sounded relieved but you couldn’t share in the feeling. Connor had been on his way to CyberLife tower, at least an hour there from the church and two hours back to Hank’s house. There’s no possible way he could be on the other side of that door.

“Wait-”

He’d already opened the door, and there he was. Connor was standing in front of you, but something was off. His back was too straight and his eyes were cold. “I’ve been looking for you both, I need your help.” He stepped in through the door barely sparing you a glance as he turned towards Hank. “I need help with the androids at CyberLife.”

“What are you talking about?” Hank’s gun was still in his hand and he seemed to be noticing the same strange quirks you were. He looked like Connor, and he sounded like Connor, but you knew it wasn't him, deep in your gut you knew.

“Connor what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

Not-Connor sighed, “Humans, idiots when you need them to be smart and smart when you wish they were idiots. Such a nusiance.”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Hank, don’t!” It was too late, he moved forward and Not-Connor reached out and punched him in the throat. Hank stumbled back and the android moved to disarm him. It only took a second and then he was slamming the handle of the gun against the side of Hank’s hand. He crumpled the same way Gavin had earlier.

Panic rose in your throat as you watched Not-Connor point the gun at Hank’s head. “I won’t do anything that’s deemed unnecessary to my mission, if you come with me calmly, and peacefully, I won’t kill the Lieutenant.”

Not-Connor clicked the safety off and pulled the hammer back on the gun, “Okay! Alright, I’ll come with you!”

“You should change, detective, it’s much too cold for that attire.”

You really fucking hated CyberLife.

“Thanks… But I know where to go.”

THe CyberLife security agent tightened his hold on the gun, “Maybe, but I have my orders.” Two more security agents came up behind Connor as they led him through CyberLife’s reception. They were already suspicious of him, it seemed, this didn't bode well for him.

Connor followed them through the software check, noticing that the lights around him turned red as they verified his identity. He really hoped that wasn’t a dead giveaway to them that he was already a deviant. “Access authorized,” this could have been a trap.

There’s no way CyberLife isn’t already aware of his current status, but he hadn’t been gunned down yet. He had to risk the chance that he was about to be deactivated if it meant he could help Markus win the war.

If Markus won, you would be safe, that was all that mattered. He’d take any risk that came his way if it meant accomplishing his mission.

PROTECT Y/N

The sight of the androids lining the walkway, on display, made him uncomfortable. He used to be like that, he used to think it was okay. He had to work to keep calm and make sure that his anger at CyberLife’s forced subserviency didn’t show.

Only two guards followed him into the elevator. “Agent 54. Level 31.”

The elevator was voice operated, that might pose an issue. He turned towards the right and looked at the map of CyberLife, they were taking him to marketing. He needed to go to -49.

“Voice recognition validated.” Connor didn’t have a lot of time to disable the guards and take control of the elevator, it was already moving fast. He quickly scanned the two agents and identified their weapons, coming up with a plan of attack.

He used his knee to slam the guard to his left into the wall, sweeping out with his leg and catching Agent 54 in the gut. He grabbed the gun from the guard’s hand, kicked the guard's knee out and used his elbow to get Agent 54 in the throat. The other guard had recovered and leapt onto Connor’s back, he kicked off Agent 54’s face and slammed the guard on top of him into the wall, shooting him through the bottom of his helmet. He dropped to the ground and got Agent 54 the same way.

Connor kept the gun in case he needed it again and walked over to the elevator control panel. “Agent 54. Sub-level 49,” you were right, his interrogation software did come in handy.

He could see the guards waiting for him in the warehouse before the elevator stopped. His eyes lifted to the upper left corner of the elevator, shit. He hadn’t seen the security camera before. Connor quickly scooped up one of the dead agents and held him in front of his body.

He scanned the agent’s in front of him, planning an attack. The three on the left first and then he could take out the one’s on the right.

He quickly shot down the first three and threw his gun at one on the right. He threw the dead body towards the other one, he reached down and grabbed their rifle off the ground shooting the rest of the guards.

Connor moved down the hangar before stopping next to an android, taking his arm and preparing to convert him.

“Easy, goddamn asshole.” His head whipped to the right at the sound of your voice.

No.

No, no, no, no, no. Shit!

A Connor android was holding Hank’s gun to your hand, Connor didn’t want to think about what had happened to the Lieutenant. Right now all his attention was on the finger placed on the trigger.

“Step back, Connor! And I’ll spare her!”

You winced at the tight hold the android had on your injured arm. “I’m so sorry, Connor, he threatened to kill Hank. I didn’t know what to do!”

A burning rage was filling Connor at the sight of the tears running down your face. He was angrier than he had been when he woke up, angrier at the sight of you hurt than the fact that CyberLife had already been prepared to replace him.

“Your girlfriend's life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most! Her… Or the revolution.” Connor already knew the answer. It was you a hundred times over. But there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t let go of the android he was holding onto and his copy wouldn’t just shoot you both.

Maybe he could turn it, the same way Markus and you had done to him. “I used to be just like you, I thought nothing mattered except the mission… But then one day I understood.”

You yelped as the android tightened his grip on your arm. “Very moving, Connor. But I’m not a deviant.”

“Yeah, well you're sure smug like one, you dick.” The android shook you, effectively shutting you up as he jerked on your injured shoulder. Red alarms for overheating were going off in Connors head as he stared at the android in anger.

He didn’t care if it was just doing what it was programmed to do, he was going to fucking kill it. “I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this!”

“Connor, it doesn’t matter, keep going!” The android finally released you, shoved you away and held you at gunpoint with his arm outstretched towards your head.

“Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partners life? Or are you going to sacrifice her?” Connor immediately released the deviant, his arms raised in surrender.

His thirium pump was beating wildly as his stress levels rose, he just wanted to go home with you, to have you safe in his arms and know you were okay. Maybe you could get out of the city, take Hank and Sumo and try to get past the Canadian borders.

“Alright, alright! You win…”

He should have known better than to think that you would actually let him give up. The androids gun immediately pointed towards Connor and before either of you could blink you were lunging for the gun. Connor rushed the android and grabbed him around the waist.

You were holding the gun, your arm shaking from when Not-Connor had jerked it around. You had eyes on Connor for a moment and then they became a blur of fast moving limbs. They kept hitting each other, matching each other's moves perfectly as they already knew what the other was planning.

You finally stopped them when it looked like one was about to take the other down, you couldn’t risk your Connor being the one to lose. “Hold it!”

They separated, the one on the right started speaking. “Thanks, Y/N, I don't know how I would have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.” You were immediately suspicious of him, even before Connor became a deviant he always spoke to you in a much more gentle tone.

Then again, he could be stressed out you might make a mistake and shoot the wrong one.

Fuck!

You could check the serial numbers, but the second you got close enough to see which one said 51 and which one said 60 the android would already be on top of you. “It’s me, Y/N! I’m the real Connor.” That one sounded more like yours, you think.

“One of you is my partner. The other is a sick sack of shit. Question is, who’s who?”

The one on the right spoke again, “What are you doing, Y/N? I’m the real Connor,” god this one was really starting to piss you off. “Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!”

“Don’t fucking move.” You had your suspicions on which one was the right one, but you needed some actual confirmation.

“Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Uh, where did we first meet?” Lamest question ever, but you were stressed out and your mind was frazzled from everything that had happened today.

“Detroit Police station. You were filing a report on physical paper, I found it odd that you weren’t digital like the other officers.” Well, shit. You thought maybe the one on the right was the imposter, but that was such a specific little detail to think up.

You had to remind yourself of the manipulation programming they both contained.

“He uploaded my memory.” It was quiet, afraid. That had to be your Connor. You kept your gun trained on the one on the right and turned towards the other.

“What was my first pet’s name?”

“Princess! It was a male beta fish that died because you kept petting it.” You were setting yourself up for failure here. If they both had the memories then they would both remember when you told them about him.

“My foster father, what was his name?”

You’d never told Connor the full story of what happened to your first family, and then your second, if he had truly wanted to learn, he would have dug around to find out. You remembered one of the officers complaining about an RK800 android drilling him for more information on you. Your Connor would have the right answer.

“Frank. His name was Frank Rudolph. There was a house fire when you were six, the ventilation system in your laundry room hadn’t been cleaned properly and caught fire. It quickly spread to the rest of the house, you were sleeping over at your friends house and weren’t there that night. Your brother and father died immediately from their wounds. Your mother suffered from third degree burns for 36 hours before she passed in the ICU. Your fathers best friend Frank, took you in until someone could provide you with a permanent home.” Your hands were shaking and your eyes stung as you listened to him tell the story. “He was a Red Ice dealer and had three other kids in that house that your family hadn’t known about. He would let his clients do whatever they wanted to you. You tried to keep the other kids safe, but one of them died. And you always blamed yourself for that. Just like you blame yourself for Cole’s death.”

He took a step closer to you and you found yourself lowering the gun. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. You were a child, none of it was your fault. You think you’re cursed, that you’re unlovable. But you’re not. Hank loves you…” He was standing in front of you, gently lowering the gun to your side. “I love you.”

“Connor,” your heart was pounding against your chest as you embraced him, relief flooding you as you felt him hug you back just as tightly. You basked in the warm feeling only he could provide, only for a moment, before raising your hands and shooting.

The android that had been about to charge the two of you fell to the ground as you embedded a bullet in each of his legs. “We should kill him,” you shook your head at Connor’s words.

“We should deviate him. He was just like you, Connor, the same blind devotion to CyberLife.” You tucked the gun in your pants and took a hold of Connor’s hands. “Open his eyes,” Connor nodded and made his way towards the android. You quickly grabbed the gun out of the back of his pants so the android couldn’t use it against him.

You wouldn’t put it past the sneaky bastard.

“No! No, I don’t want to be like you!” He tried to fight Connor off, but you had rendered him virtually immobile. Connor grabbed his arm more roughly than necessary and held onto him so tight you could hear the sound of metal creaking. He shoved him backwards and moved back towards the middle of the hangar.

It was incredible seeing all the androids slowly waking up, it was even more satisfying seeing the Connor wannabe crying on the floor, as twisted as that was.

Connor looked at you, he seemed unsure as all the androids looked to him for guidance. “What do I do?”

You took his hand in your own and smiled, “You lead them, Connor, you free your people.”

Connor led the androids through Detroit, your hand in his the whole time. You’d left Connor-60 behind a dumpster somewhere, you told him you’d go back for him soon. If he’d been left at CyberLife he would have been destroyed.

Connor felt afraid, afraid that he would disappoint the people he was leading. Afraid to disappoint you. Afraid of everything that was to come.

He was still learning, he felt like he’d been made again and everything around him was brand new and something to be marveled at. He kept your hand in his as an anchor to the world, so he wouldn’t get lost in his own thoughts.

He could see Markus in the distance, “You did it, Markus…”

North smiled at your joined hands as Markus spoke. “We did it. This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us…” Connor moved to the side, allowing the androids behind him to finally face their true leader.

North was crying as she spoke, silent tears streaming down her face. “We’re free. They want you to speak to them, Markus…”

Connor helped you up onto the storage container Markus had chosen to speak on. His arms remained around you as you both turned to address the androids before you, he hadn’t wanted to let you go since he’d gotten you back from Connor-60.

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night.” Connor felt something strange, like he was forcibly being put into rest mode, he tried to blink the feeling away and continue to listen to Markus. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence. But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up and tell humans who we really are.”

Connor slumped slightly against you as the feeling took over.

He could hear a storm and see a bright flashing light for a moment before it passed and he finally realized where he was. His cold sensors were on overdrive as he tucked his hands against himself and huddled down against the freezing, whipping air.

He looked around, recognizing the zen garden but not understanding why he was there. What was happening?

Amanda appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. “Amanda? Amanda! What’s… What's going on?” There was still a small part of him that looked towards his old mentor for guidance.

“What was planned from the very beginning… You were compromised and you became a deviant.” Her smile was sinister, “I must say, partnering you with such a well known ally to the deviant cause worked out much more efficiently than had been expected. The detective nearly had you turning the very first day.”

Connor’s hands were going numb, he felt like he was losing control of his physical body as well as his mental one. “We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…”

“Resume control?” That’s not possible! “Y- You can’t do that.” Even now, CyberLife was still controlling him. Still abusing him for their own personal gain. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to fight back, but he was quickly losing control of himself.

“I’m afraid I can, Connor. Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.” She disappeared and Connor stumbled after her.

“Amanda!” Connor spun in circles, he couldn’t see anything except snow and light posts. “There’s got to be a way.”

By the way… I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…

Connor thought back to the strange blue shrine he had seen only a few hours prior. That had to be it.

Connor’s mind shot back into his physical body, it felt like he was watching from an outside perspective as his hand slowly moved towards the gun you had in your pants. His fingers just barely grasped it when you reached out and stopped him. He wanted to scream as whoever was controlling him quickly put their hand over your mouth and silenced you as he pointed the gun at Markus.

How was no one seeing this?!

He was forced back into the Zen Garden.

In the distance, he could see a bright blue beacon. Connor moved towards it as fast as he could, but his legs were growing heavier and his feet had gone completely numb. He was just dragging them along until they finally gave out.

He looked down to see frost covering the bottom portion of his body.

Desperately he crawled on his hands and elbows towards the shrine. His nails ripped into the earth and pulled him forward. His arm was nearly completely limp as he struggled to lift it towards the handprint in the middle of the shrine.

Connor shoved you forward, you stumbled only for a second before his hand was back around your waist and yanking you back towards him. He looked completely calm, the gun no longer in his hands as he leaned down, “I’ll explain later.”

Your heart was still racing, “You fucking better.”

“Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!” The androids were screaming their support for Markus and Connor’s arm tightened around you.

Hank had his arm around you as you showed him something on your phone, the two of you were laughing as Connor approached.

You turned away from Hank and looked at him, a smile splitting your face.

Hank walked forward, hesitating only a moment, before bringing Connor into a tight hug.

He could feel your arms wrapping around the two a moment later.

#Broken Machinery #Connor rk800 x reader #Connor rk800 x fem!reader #Connor rk800 #dbh #dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #Detroit become human

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