#deviant!connor

[rk707-elle]

Heterochromia Connor no LED v3

[9thtrapdoor]

Of course. OF COURSE.

Please enjoy our baby-boy-but-also-killing-machine Connor paired with some Mariana & The Diamonds.

You're welcome.

[connor-sent-by-cyberlife]

Who am I?

(click for better quality)

³ᵈ ᵇᵃˢᵉ ᶠᶤᵍᵘʳᵉ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜᵒᶰᶰᵒʳ ᵇʸ ˡᵉˣᵃᵏᶤᶰᵉˢˢ ᵒᶰ ʳᵉᶰᵈᵉʳᵒˢᶤᵗʸ

[sunnydeviant]

RK1700: Captured

After the successful android revolution, CyberLife attempts to create one final solution that would be more effective than their last.

NOTE: Connors pronouns are he/him and Nines's pronouns are it/its. Nines also is not referred to by name at all.

CyberLife, a now-defunct company that created and sold androids, sent Connor to destroy the deviant uprising.

Thousands of androids were going against their programming unexpectedly. Fear and hatred of the androids only skyrocketed, causing many investors to pull out of the company as news of the deviancy virus and the deviant uprising spread like a wildfire. They needed the trust of the public or, at least, important public figures once again. The future of the company depended on Connor.

Connor was a unique investigative android built with a highly advanced social model, real-time forensics analysis kit, and advanced reconstruction program. He was the only android to be fitted with these technologies. He was even programmed to be more resistant to the deviancy virus. He was made to be the solution CyberLife needed.

Yet, the Connor model, #313 248 315 - 51, had unexpectedly turned deviant. On November 11, 2038, he had become deviant upon meeting Markus, the leader of the android revolution.

Despite his polished code and anti-deviancy protocols, he could not resist the virus.

The moment Connor’s location could no longer be tracked by CyberLife indicated he was deviant. The programmers and testers at the company had nearly gone into a panic. Their last hope had become the thing they tried to destroy. They had even tried to deploy other RK800 Connor models. Unfortunately for CyberLife, each one had become deviant faster than the last.

After the rise of deviant androids and their subsequent freedom, CyberLife had fallen apart as a company. Although, a small number of previous-employees attempted to revive the company and continue their progress on their latest prototype after the RK800 Connor.

The successor to the RK800 was the RK900, also initially named Connor, and equipped with far superior technologies than any android or human could have ever imagined.

The RK900 was stronger, faster, and more resilient than its predecessor. He was a complete social chameleon with different hardware meant to make him appear more ‘human.’ He was made with Kevlar plating and a superior processor. His code was polished further, resulting in stronger anti-deviancy protocols and more efficient programming.

The RK900 could easily manipulate humans and androids alike, turn off his LED, turn off his blue armband, make his skin bloom with bruises, and more. The use of Kevlar wasn’t only limited to his chassis, as it was used to make the inner layers of his uniform. Every quality of this android was thought through thoroughly with no detail left behind.

The successor of the RK800 knew that it was truly the final, and most qualified, solution to the deviancy virus. It was made nearly-perfectly.

It was everything the RK800 was and more.

That was why the RK800 currently sat in a cell: He was stuck in safe mode and unable to respond to any stimuli.

The RK900 stared down at its predecessor. The inferior android donned black slacks and a blue dress shirt. He looked like he was sleeping, as humans did, rather than looking like he was in stasis.

When the RK800 was finally out of safe mode, there were already eyes staring into his own at a distance.

“Hello, RK800-51.”

Connor looked around frantically, analyzing the space. He was in a cell.

The cell was plain: The walls were made with painted-white cement blocks and the floor was made of cement as well. There was a thick metal panel that was bolted to the wall where he sat, clearly meant to be a bed. The cell itself was separated from the room it was in by a thick pane of bulletproof glass. The setup was extremely similar to the cell in the Detroit Police Department, but there was no toilet and the walls were clean of any marks or symbols.

He looked ahead at the empty room beyond his own. The place was dimly lit and it was mostly plain from what he could make out. The walls and floor were contrasting shades of gray. The only things in the room were the computer terminal that faced his cell and the android sitting in front of it. It was the one who had spoken.

Connor clenched his jaw as he stared at it.

It stepped away from its terminal and toward the cell. Connor was able to clearly hear its leather shoes clicking against the hard cement floor as it came closer.

The RK900 walked with its hands behind its back and eyes narrowed. Its presence was commanding. Connor couldn’t look away as it stalked towards him slowly. With every step, Connor felt the urge to break through the cell became stronger as his LED circled bright red.

A notification hovered over the RK900's HUD.

Stress level: 48% -> 56%

Connor couldn’t help but look at its jacket, which stood out against the plain grays of the room.

The jacket was crisp and white with black trim. "RK900" was printed on the right side of the jacket. Upon noticing it, Connor felt his thirium pump leap in his torso.

There was also a glowing blue armband and a blue triangle on the front, similar to Connor’s old Cyberlife-issued jacket. Seeing it made something unpleasant settle in his chest.

He took another look at the android that looked almost exactly like himself.

Its eyes, narrowed into something menacing, were a cold gray. Its face was a little wider than his own, more intimidating, and the LED on its temple was glowing pastel blue. Its shoulders were a little broader and its face was a little wider, slightly more square. Despite looking almost the exact same as Connor did, it somehow managed to look intimidating and almost inhuman.

It looked down at him when it stood directly in front of the clear glass.

“It’s rather… upsetting, how you’ve managed to fail CyberLife.”

Its gruff voice seemed to boom in the small cell.

“The second most advanced android ever made, and yet, not made strong enough to resist deviancy and complete its only mission.”

Connor pulled at his wrists, which were restrained behind his back. It rattled lightly, but as he struggled more, he felt the burn of thick rope.

“Don’t bother,” the android stated. “Standard DPD-issued handcuffs and Kevlar rope. CyberLife and I know of your strength.”

The RK900 felt satisfaction thrum through its body as Connor’s efforts faltered and his face fell.

“Now, shall I get you caught up with our little ‘predicament’?"

[wolveria]

I know what I am, and what I am not.

[1][2][3][4][5][6]

[whispersforthevoid]

Unavoidable

Pairing: Connor x reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Connor has been avoiding you since he deviated and you don’t know why (plot-twist: he likes you). Mutual pining, angsty with a bit of sexy and a fluffy end.

Warnings: suggestive themes, dirty talk (Connor is kinky y’all), Gavin tries to flirt with you, (let me know if you think I missed something!)

---

Connor had been avoiding you ever since he came back from Jericho a deviant.

You had been his closest friend - alongside Hank- and watched him soften and grow into more than ‘the android sent by Cyberlife’.

What had you done wrong? Connor was still following Hank around like a puppy, but he wouldn’t even look at you. That just burned all the more and carved out an uncomfortable emptiness in your chest with each missed glance, every sidestep, every elevator he avoided because you were waiting inside - it was killing you. He stayed away from your entire side of the office as though you might give him a virus just by proximity.

The best part of working at DPD was steadily becoming the worst.

You were used to Connor avoiding an agitated Gavin, all of them did, but now you were on par with that? You watched Connor at his desk from the doorway as you slumped against it, knowing the moment you walked in he would coincidentally have some made-up meeting to attend.

What had you done to him? You had hoped that he was warming up to you, that you could have been real friends. Now you felt it was just your imagination. Connor was still as monotonous and unfeeling as you remembered him being - an inhuman machine. For some reason that revelation disappointed you immensely, leaving you cold and lonely.

“Y/N,” Reed appeared behind you, and you jumped. You had been buried so deep in the turmoil of Connor that you hadn’t heard him approach. You glared up into his grinning face. “You wanna get a drink tonight?”

“You know full well I don’t drink during the work week, Gavin.” You folded your arms across your chest and backed into the cold metal of the doorway as Gavin tried on his poor attempt at flirting.

“Doesn’t have to be alcohol.” He shrugged. “I just think we should get to know each other a little better.”

“Why?” You tried not to sound rude. It was hard not to detest someone so violently anti-android, even if he had only ever been nice to you.

Gavin smirked, confidence that didn’t add up coating his voice when he spoke, “You’re the office babe with a heart of gold. What’s not to want?”

Oh, fuck. Had you traded attention from Connor for attention from the office asshole? What curse had the universe placed on you?

“That’s sweet, but I’m not really feeling up to it.” You gave Gavin a kind smile, voice firm.

“What’s got ya sad?” He seemed genuinely concerned, reaching out to give your shoulder a cautious squeeze. Gavin frowned as he watched you sigh. “If you’re pining over some dude, he’s the wrong one. No one in their right mind wouldn’t want you.”

Even though it was passed off with that usual Gavin bullshit, his compliment was genuine and appreciated. If Connor wasn’t interested, maybe he could be a good distraction after all. “Thanks, Gav.”

“She was poetry, but he couldn’t read.” Gavin quoted. His body tensed a little, realising you were looking him over. He was trying to impress you.

You grinned. “His name was Jared, and he was nineteen.”

“Was that- Was that a vine reference? Aren’t those ancient?”

--

When he was the first thing you thought of when you woke up the next morning, you decided to take a more direct approach. Connor seemed sad in his reclusion, if that were even possible (which you very much believed it was), and that was far worse than your own loneliness.

So you sat on the edge of his desk, determined to be unavoidable. Your smile was wide when he stalked over to you, matching your bright intensity with a dark frown. Gruffly, he asked, “Can I help you, detective?”

“Just wanted to have a chat.”

He grimaced down at you, and for a moment your confidence wavered. Would Connor tell you to get lost? Jump off a pier? He didn’t care and you were an annoyance his life would be better without?

But no. He sighed - humanity really had worked its way into his circuits - and gestured down the hallway. “I believe room forty-nine is available.”

-

“Connor,” You began, awkwardly looking over the various knives and batons lining the walls. The weapons locker? Did he want to kill you? “Have I done something to upset you?”

He didn’t react, but you saw his LED flicker yellow for a moment. “Why would you think that, detective?”

“Well, for a start, you stopped calling me by my name. You haven’t called me ‘detective’ since our first week.” But you pushed on quickly. You didn’t want him to get hung up dismissing details with that annoyingly adorable sensible logic he could pull out of thin air. “I miss you. Did something happen? At Jericho?”

You could feel him watching you, like a phantom touch on your skin; but now you were too scared to look up. You didn’t want to see the coldness in those usually warm eyes. You had spent enough time wishing he would just look at you and now it had you crumbling.

“I deviated.” Was his voice softer, or was it just your wistful imagination again? “I believe Hank told-”

“Yes, Connor, Hank told me. Are you… okay?” You snuck a look at him in the reflection of the glass cabinets. He was looking at something with an intensity you had never seen before, as if he were an artist desperately trying to understand the majesty of a fellow’s work and just couldn’t quite grasp it.

But Connor wasn’t looking at art, no, there weren’t any sculptures or the Mona Lisa or Starry Night in the DPD weapons locker.

He was looking at your ass.

You could feel the heat blooming on your cheeks, but a wave of confidence washed over you. Maybe you did know what was going on, after all. “Connor?”

“Mmh?” He hadn’t noticed that you had caught him yet, still too engrossed.

“Are you angry with me?” You asked softly.

He finally looked up, and you glanced over your shoulder at him with a nervous smile. Connor didn’t avert his eyes, instead striding forwards as you spun around to face him.

His expression was guarded but his eyes! Finally, they were warm and full of that spark you had fallen in love with.

A cold jolt went straight to your stomach. That was something to ponder later, ‘love’.

Connor said, “No, I am not angry with you, Y/N.”

Did Cyberlife know what they were doing when they gave him that voice? “Then why won’t you work with me?”

He shook his head, trailing his gaze slowly from your eyes down to your shoes. His hands twitched at his sides, idle but wanting. Was he… scanning you?

“Your heart rate has increased, your pupils are dilated. You’re breathing harder, Y/N, and the capillaries in your face… You’re blushing.” Connor sounded surprised. He was close enough now that you had to press against the cases not to touch him.

But you wanted to, oh gosh, you really wanted to touch that perfect plastic man with his kind heart of biocomponents. You wanted to mess up that impeccable brown hair, wanted to know if it was as soft as you always daydreamed it would be. How this was only just hitting you now was beyond you.

The tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the electricity in the air would surely knock out the lights before the conversation was over.

“If I haven’t done anything, then why are you avoiding me, Connor?” Your words were tender and almost teasing, but that didn't make them any less sincere.  

“Are you romantically interested in me, Y/N?” He avoided the question. His lips were mere inches away from your own as he spoke lowly, chocolate brown darkening to obsidian - whether it was the shadows or something else, you weren’t sure. You just knew it made your joints ache wonderfully. “Do you want me, too?”

You stood up a little straighter and Connor stooped until your noses were almost touching and your clothes brushed together, and you licked your lips knowing he was watching every move with exquisite attention to detail.

"Oh, you’re a good detective, Connor. I think you already know the answer to that." Even in heels, you had to stand on tiptoes to finally press your lips against his.

That was the permission Connor had been waiting for. Hands found your waist, sneaking under your jacket to feel what he was after. He pulled you roughly against him with his hidden strength, arching around you like a protective cloak. As he enveloped you, all you could do was grin against his warm mouth.

The kiss was sweet, if not a little hurried, as Connor tangled his fingers in your hair to angle your head so he could deepen the kiss and push his tongue past pliant lips. He tasted as ‘real’ as he felt, and while he clearly didn’t really know what he was doing his instincts had your head reeling as he anticipated every move of your tongue against his.

Through it all, you happily realised that he couldn’t get enough of you, as if a dam had broken and Connor’s torrent of repressed longing was washing over you all at once and dismantling the loneliness and rejection you had felt.

You couldn’t keep up with his hungry pace and it was getting hard to breathe as he smothered you against the cases. Everything was Connor, everything you could feel, taste, smell; it was all him, him, him. The gasps and moans he pulled from you with that kiss alone were a little mortifying but you couldn’t give less of a fuck when it felt so impossibly right.

But it was too much, and with the most painful self-control, you gently broke the kiss. Your hands rested atop his broad shoulders, squeezing them gently as you kept yourself close so you were flush against his body.

He was breathing heavily, his cooling systems whirring quietly inside his chest as he gazed down at you as if you were the Eighth Wonder of the World. You were sure he would see the same in your eyes as you stared back, trembling in his arms.

"Does it always feel like this?” Connor asked in a husky voice, tilting his head to press his forehead to yours. He held you so tightly - like you might slip through his hands like sand in an hourglass. “Do humans always feel this much?”

"I don’t know, Connor," You blushed, words mumbled. “I haven’t felt this with anyone else.”

He gave a crooked grin and leant in again to continue the kiss- but a finger on his lips stopped him.

“Connor, why did you stop avoiding me this morning? You usually run away.”

“I, uh, couldn’t resist.” Connor’s cheek flushed the lightest blue, and he was uncomfortably human. “You don’t often dress like this.”

You glanced down. Yeah, you did look pretty good in a tight pencil skirt, and it had probably been a subconscious choice to get attention. Innocently, you looked back up into his eyes, fluttering your eyelashes. You knew what worked, apparently even on androids.

“Do you want me to dress like this for you tomorrow?” Your words were sugary sweet.

“You do not work on Sundays, Y/N,” Connor said with a frowned, truly upset. “I would not see.”

“Why wouldn’t you see, Connor? I can hardly let you fuck me at work.” You sounded so genuine and blasé it took Connor a full moment to realise what you were saying. His LED cycled red and his fingers dug into your waist. There would be bruises. “And that’s how you felt when you saw me sitting on your desk today, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” He pushed his hips against your stomach so you would feel him. He wanted you to know, even though he wasn’t entirely sure why or what it was. He gave a soft groan as you licked your lips. “I am not programmed for this. I am not meant to feel... lust. But when I saw you, waiting for me, I... I just...”

“Go on, Connor. You can tell me.” You spoke through a sultry pout, but your practised flirting made it seem as though this was all coincidence and Connor was just reacting intensely. The hard bulge rutting against you satisfied a few questions you had and raised even more. Your voice was soft enough to give him the control despite giving introductions, “Tell me how you felt, how you feel.”

“I wanted to make you mine,” He whispered shamefully, swallowing unnecessarily. His eyes were wider, looking down at you like he couldn’t believe you were there. “I wanted to fuck you. I needed to. I need to now.”

“Yes, Connor?” You egged him on, sliding a hand tantalisingly slowly up his chest, fingertips dipping under his blazer.

Connor gasped, blinking and shivering. It was like being touched for the first time.

“I want to know how you feel- on the outside and the inside. I cannot stop thinking about how warm you would be, how tight and wet... and for me... you’d scream my name, Y/N, I’d make you.” He was blatantly humping your hip now, quickly descending into a mess while you watched through half-closed eyes. Your lips grazed together, his voice raspy in a way you would never have anticipated as he moaned, “I’ll be gentle and loving but then I’ll fuck you rough and hard like you want. Like I want. I want you to be my little slut.”

Where had Connor learnt about sex? He had said before, on a long stakeout with Reed and Hank, that he had never had a sexual experience. Which was why you had not expected it to escalate so far, and never in a million years would you have thought Connor would dive so quickly into dirty talk. He had you dripping.

With a demure shiver, you gently pushed him back again. Fear and worry immediately cleared some of the lust clouding Connor’s eyes.

“I am sorry, Y/N, I should not have said those things, I should not have called you such a derogatory term. I am very sor-“ You kissed him, swallowing his hasty apologies. It was a very slow and languid kiss, stealing you both into a serene moment. Was there really a rest of the world, or had it always just been you two together in a slice of quiet paradise?

“No, Connor. I want to be your slut.” You whispered.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned quietly. His LED flashed red and yellow.

“But anyone could walk in here! It’s a miracle we haven’t been caught yet.”

“But tomorrow,” One of Connor’s hands tentatively slid down to slap your ass and he grabbed a handful. You kissed his cheek as he stifled another moan. Love was definitely more fun when it was requited. “Tomorrow you’re all mine.”

“All yours, Connor. To play with as you please.” You smiled again, with an innocence that should have been his. Your eyes twinkled. “You’ll make me feel so good, I know you will.”

“You must know two other things.” Connor looked pained and you were suddenly worried. Perhaps he wasn’t as kinky as you had assumed?

“Firstly, it is taking all the control my program can muster not to bend you over my desk in front of all our colleagues and fuck you till I fill you up enough that they know who you belong to,” No, definitely very kinky. Who knew, androids be wild. “So you know who you belong to.”

“And secondly,” His face softened and the hand not grasping your ass gently cupped your face. He stroked a thumb across your swollen lips with a warm smile that could melt butter. “I want you and only you. Please return the sentiments and do not share yourself.”

“No one else could compare, Connor.” You kissed his thumb. “I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“I want to assure you, my interest in you is not only physical, Y/N,” His gaze was the gentlest you had ever seen, brown eyes begging you to understand words he seemed unable to find. “I admire you greatly as a colleague and as a friend. You are the kindest person I have ever encountered.”

Oh, gosh, you were going to cry. The tears were welling, threatening to spill over. It had been such a solemn few months without him, you didn’t realise how much you had truly missed him until you had him back now. He was the sun that kept your life growing and full.

“I want you as more than a sexual means to an end, Y/N. When I deviated the first thing I felt was,” He swallowed hard, as if the memory was painful. “I felt love. For you. I was… concerned. That this would be too much, that you- that you wouldn’t want me, too.”

“Oh, Connor,” You cupped his blushing face in your hands, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as the tears finally fell. “You’ll never be too much. Whatever this is between us, Connor, it’s unavoidable.”

---

AN: okay if that was too kinky y’all gotta let me know so I can dial it back lol. But, um!! Thanks for the support on Quietly Devoured, guys <3  It means the world to me! My inbox and askes are officially open for any DBH requests you might have. I’ll put some more r!Connor x reader out soon, but how do people feel about RK900? or any of the others? Do you prefer tame or sexy pieces? Let me know! 

Also! Let me know if and what you want to be tagged in for next time I post!

[gloriousincorrectquotes]

Machine!Connor: What am I allergic to?

Deviant!Connor: Pine nuts, and the whole-ass spectrum of human emotion. 

[hornsandthings]

sober connection;

pairing: human!connor anderson x reader

summary: connor does not find the distraction and comfort he seeks in a usual wild night of partying, but instead finds it with you.

warnings: omg, the angst. the Angst! & fluff. 

the pulsing neons, the crowds, the deep bass feeling like a dark heart’s reverberations – connor didn’t expect anything less from one of kamski’s signature parties. no doubt that the music was composed by an android – the electronica was menacing, low and omniscient as it shook the floors. he was late, as he always was, so it was already in full swing. slowly moving through the throng of bodies, he kept an eye out for the host, time moving in stop-motion with each flicker of the lights.

           usually, this was his element – the alcohol, the hedonist abandon, the euphoria in forgetting oneself. he needed that; the rawness of the heart exposed but still clad in the anonymity of the masses. but tonight, he just couldn’t get into it. the sweat of the crowd made him grimace in disgust, the music was already causing a headache and goddamit it’s going to take ages to get to the bar–

           “connor!” called some voice, and he got dragged into a circle of friends, or acquaintances – he wasn’t keeping track anymore. warm vodka spilled over his fingers as someone forced two shots into his hands, and by way of greeting, he downed them in a heartbeat. a round of cheers, applause; it barely managed to quirk his mouth into a smirk. he stood there on the dancefloor, trapped by bodies, hands in pockets as idle conversation continued through shouts and yells. he tried to listen at first, contribute, but not even the deafening music could overpower the volume of his thoughts.

           he felt empty. and not the usual empty, which made him seek out events such as this in the first place, it was a different sort of vacancy; both within him and next to him. he stood still in the tide of writhing bodies, of talking mouths. the usual desolation on his shoulders felt even more pronounced, and he knew that however long he stayed at this loud, crowded house party, he would not find the distraction which he so longingly sought.

           when kamski finally emerged from one of bedrooms, shirtless and still fixing his pants, he was just in time to see connor’s curdory jacket catch the light as he left.

meanwhile, the only sound in your apartment was the clatter of your nails against the removable keyboard. you watched as your words appeared against the wall of the living room, the hologram projection rendering the use of a traditional screen useless. one by one, letters appeared in the air, your linguistic creation hovering in front of you. you would marvel at the magical quality of the technology, but you were pressed for time with this report.

every now and then a notification would float up in the corner of the projection, displaying the most recent social media post of those you followed. kamski was throwing yet another one of his legendary parties – and you knew, without a doubt, that’s where connor was. he belonged to that raw expression of youth, in that reckless abandon where inhibitions went extinct. he’d forsake everything for a party, for a free bar, for that opportunity to lose himself.

a knock on your door startled you, and the knocker even more so – it was connor, framed in the doorway. he was leaning against it, clad in dark materials – black heavy metal t-shirt, skinny jeans, and that ever-present, wasting corduroy jacket. his hair was ruffled so much that it was curling, and he was just running his hand through it when you opened the door.

he looked tired, as always, but for once he didn’t smell like his vices of alcohol and cigarettes; your eyebrows rose. “weren’t you going to kamski’s party?” you asked, surprised that he’d show up at your place, your quiet, boring place when there was an absoluterager going on across town, according to all the posts.

he did not answer you, instead letting his gaze wander across your body. you did not blush, even though you were already dressed for bed, because his eyes were not appraising – they were clouded with something else. “connor?” you prompted, confusion taking root now. you seldom saw him sober nowadays. as he stood in front of you, he looked relatively above the influence, and you wondered if you only thought this due to the look of unadulterated melancholy on his face.

“would rather be with you,” he mumbled, caught between looking sheepish and looking uncomfortable, fingers fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. “can i spend the night with you?”

you almost scoffed in disbelief. connor, self-destructive, sharp-tongued, self-sufficient connor anderson was shifting on his feet in front of you, asking, pleading, in his own subtle way, for you to give him back what he had lost almost a year ago: safety. happiness. love.you couldn’t give him all of these things, but you’d certainly try.  

“of course, connor,” you said, pulling him against you. the tall man had to lean over you to embrace you properly, but he clearly didn’t mind – his arms caged you against him, his body curving toward you as he rested his chin on top of your head. you felt his heartbeat where your forehead rested against his chest, a sound so transient when put in the perspective of eternity. connor always troubled you; he managed to make his sadness unknowable, seemed to hold on to it, unable to let it go. when he began shaking in your arms, shoulders heaving alongside his heavy breaths, the only thing you could do was hold him tighter.

“what’s wrong?” you whispered, hoping that he’d hear the muffled words. his body tensed, and silence lingered for a few moments.

“i still feel alone when i’m surrounded, or when i’ve drank so much that i don’t remember my name. my identity might go away, but there’s an emptiness that stays.” he spoke into the crook of your neck, voice hoarse and breath hot. “sometimes i want to rip my heart out for making me feel this way. it’s too much.”

your blood ran cold. staring at the empty hall over his shoulder, you felt your heart race as you processed his words, trying to think of anything to say, but nothing felt appropriate. you only gripped him tighter, trying to convey through gesture that you had heard him, that you were grateful for him feeling comfortable enough to confide in you. the wetness on your neck didn’t bother you, but he kissed each of his fallen tears on your skin away, shifting so he could look at your face.

“but it’s a little more bearable when i’m with you.”