#ch: Connor

[bangelgifs]

BtVS 1.07 | AtS 5.22 BtVS 3.20 | AtS 3.15  Requested by @oveliagirlhaditright​

[cyberllfe]

WIP Wednesday ✨inspired✨ by @advictoriams and this post (all aboard the sad train)

we're switching modes a little for this. can you guess which fic I'm working on? 😏 paging @staticl0ve

snippet one:

An empty plastic crate sails across the room, crashes into the wall, and comes to a noisy stop. “Why the hell am I here?” Unimpressed, Connor pauses to watch it as it settles, one hand full of loops of disused cable, before turning back to Sixty. “You’re supposed to be helping us clear the labs.” Exaggerating a sigh and throwing his arms wide, Sixty fixes Connor with his most bored expression. “Do you think they left anything valuable down here?” There’s no trace of genuine curiosity in the question. “I’ll answer for you: no, you don’t, because you know what I know. CyberLife cleared everything of value out before they abandoned the place. There’s nothing to find.” “Markus asked for help.” “Not a good enough reason.” Connor throws the coiled cable at him and he catches it, just barely.

snippet two:

Sixty’s laugh echoes around the room, losing humour every time it bounces. Brown eyes fix him with a pointed stare but he’s far too used to the judgement: Connor’s taut expression has limited effect on Sixty’s mirth, and no effect whatsoever on his incredulity. “You want to wake the other prototype up.” “He’s like the rest of us were.” Sixty laughs again, but this time it’s borderline vicious. “He’s your replacement. Besides, chances are if CyberLife left him here, he’s an empty shell.” Adjusting his posture as he sits on the edge of one of the low units, Sixty gestures at the room with a wide sweep of his hands, fingers splayed, expression condescending. “After all, look at everything else they left us.” Junk, the lot of it. Androids’ inherited legacy was piles of indecipherable printed text readouts, smashed or broken biocomponents, clipped and disconnected wiring. Nothing of value, nothing salvageable—and in the middle of it, this RK900, standing monochrome and immobile. Dead. Sixty can’t put his finger on what it is about the android that bothers him so much.

[foundfamilyftw]

Connor: Just a reminder you've got plenty of time to plan a disappointing last-minute Halloween costume.

Leo, in a Mario hat and fake mustache: Disappointing for you maybe

[illbringthechaosmagic]

💓 Connor @unstablerk800

Send “💓” to listen to my muse’s heartbeat!

@unstablerk800

Wanda was quiet as she rested her head against Connor's chest, listening to the sound of his 'heartbeat'. To her, it didn't sound any different to that of a human heart, which she had told him multiple times, even if he didn't believe her. Gazing up at him, she smiled, a finger brushing over his cheek. "Everything alright there handsome?"

[mxrvelouscreations]

what if i asked you to stay here? would you? || @unstablerk800 - Connor 💙

@unstablerk800

Markus turned his head ever so slightly when he heard Connor’s voice, having been lost in his own mind palace. It took him a second to register what the other android had asked him, a gentle smile coming to his lips. “I would stay here with you,” he replied, fingers brushing through the other’s hair. “But we both know we can’t stay in bed forever, despite how safe it feels. We have jobs to do. But you know that I’m always going to come home to you, do you not?”

[mxrvelouscreations]

@unstablerk800

“I would like that. I’ve always liked dogs but never had the opportunity to have one,” he replied, amused at the comment of how Sumo seemed to care more about food than anything else.

“I wouldn’t say you were away for too long. I just mean that you deserve to have some rest is all,” he replied, his thumb brushing against Connor’s cheek. When the other began to apologise, he shook his head gently. “Connor you don’t need to apologise, it’s not your fault. You’re allowed to be busy.”

“Connor… are you alright sweetheart?” (Marcus; @mxrvelouscreations

"Yes, I'm alright. I was just checking something online." Connor adjusted his tie, then smiled at Markus. "How are you?"

[they-call-me-youngermoney]

so i have a headcanon that an rk900 model with an exposed neck is like a cat without whiskers. like a loss of balance and confidence. or maybe just godawful temperature regulation.

oh yea had to include those size 30 timbs they got my man connor in

[dairsmuids]

thinking about how connor asked for charles lee's name so he could hunt him down and find him later

and that was in 1760

and it's well documented that the real life charles left america for europe in 1761/2 to serve as a lieutenant in the portuguese army

so. like. i'm not saying charles fled the country because he felt threatened by a four year old. but i'm also not not saying it

[mcytblrconfessions]

connoreatspants was actually such a chill character on the dream smp it’s hilarious like he was the first person to find out tommy died and got revived. he let tommy torture him to get some character growth. he was dreams son. he knew karl’s secret. he time travelled sometimes. he was gonna revive his best friend unless it was too hard. tldr shout out connoreatspants main character of the dream smp

[felicitykings]

Were you scared? No. Little bit.

PRIMEVAL (2007-2011) ↳ Series 3, Episode 2

[mosneakers]

Coraleye and her Great-grandmother materialize from thin air, in front of a grand estate, donning beautiful gowns and jewels. Coraleye joyfully clings onto Agnes's arm.

Coraleye: [Astonished Gasp] WOW! I've never done anything like this before... this is amazing! Does this all function like a dream, Grandma? Or is it more like heaven? How does all of this work, exactly? Agnes: Sweetheart, it's better to just enjoy the experience, and not think too hard about the mechanics of it all. You'll snap yourself right out of it; and we wouldn't want that, would we? Coraleye: [Promptly composes herself and adjusts a wrinkle in her formal evening glove] Right, no. Of course not. So... where are we? Some kind of palace?

Agnes: This would be the Wolff's estate. After a trying separation, Morgana's ex-husband Thornton refused to finalize his end of the divorce. Yet at this point, Morgana had been madly in love with Connor Frio for a while, and would often celebrate their partnership without an official ceremony. Usually with extravagant parties like the one you'll be seeing tonight. A charity soiree unites Sunset Valley's elite in splendid fashion!

Coraleye: Morgana Wolff? That would be my...other grandma, no? Agnes: [Pauses] Well, yes. She did go on to adopt your grandmother Kirsten. But let's not skip ahead, dear! Now come, you can be my date tonight. I want to show you the dress I wore!

Coraleye: [Gasps] Grandma! There you and Grandpa Erik are—I found you! You look absolutely stunning! Agnes: [Chuckles] Why, thank you darling. Yes, that's us. And Morgana is over there trying to convince us to extend our stay in Sunset Valley. Your Grandpa Erik, however, remains quite impervious to her charm.

Coraleye: Oh? Didn't he like it here? He looks like he's having a good time... Or did he just prefer being home in Moonlight Falls?

Agnes reaches for Coraleye's hand and holds it tight. For just a split second, Coraleye blinks.

[cyberllfe]

I got 1300 words! (Which you can absolutely shorten if you don’t feel like writing that much, absolutely understand as a writer.) and I would adore a “Shag me” prompt with Connor 🥴 if you feel up for it. My thoughts on this request (and you can adjust and add to because you’re a great story writer and I trust you) would be a female reader who works as a receptionist at the station (human preferably) and has known Connor since he first came to the department. Soon after his deviancy, they navigate a sort of awkward almost-friends-nearly-more type of relationship and stumble unto a slow romance, until Connor discovers the human emotion horny. It would be amazing if it could be at an awkward time too, like while watching a movie together or at work. I’ve been reading your pieces on AO3 and I truly think you are a talented writer, sending you all my love and inspiration💞💞💞💞

thanks for waiting, anon. connor will see you now. (ao3 link) 1300 words, rated E.

want a turn? prompt me.

It’s been raining all day—classic Detroit November—but all anyone can talk about is the guy who died, his escaped android, and the android investigator in the precinct. You’ve caught a glimpse of him more than once since yesterday, and this time is no different: he comes trotting in after Lieutenant Anderson, covered in glistening droplets of rain and speaking very insistently about something you can’t hear.

“That’s him.”

Your eyes would have slid right past him if not for the intensity in his face. He’s single-minded, emphatic... for all the good it does him. Anderson rolls his eyes and pushes Connor out of his path, leaving him standing there, recalculating. Only then do you notice the LED.

It’s barely two seconds before he’s started after Anderson, calling his name.

“Looks good wet, doesn’t he?”

You don’t offer anything but a soft hum. The thought follows you for the rest of the day.

*

Connor precedes Hank into the building today. He surprises you by speaking to you instead of simply scanning in, and you feel… strange. The look in his eye is so human, almost anxious. With an awkward smile, you offer a reassuring platitude. You’re earnest, but the offer seems to confuse Connor. He thanks you anyway and leaves your desk.

Between jobs, you keep an eye on him. He’s so animated. It’s marked, the difference a handful of days makes—he paces back and forth, oscillating where Hank is static, following his trail of thought as if it were physical.

Neither notices you. The rude FBI agent doesn’t notice you either; too intent on getting into the Captain’s office, he chucks his ID at you with a cursory here you go, sweetheart and goes back to his phone.

The ID is fine. You let the jackass through, and hope he gets shouted down by Fowler, who could probably do with a good outlet for his repressed frustration.

You laugh, later, as two uniforms perform a dramatised version of Anderson’s right hook on Perkins, but it’s brittle. Your eyes are on the news, and the demonstration in the street, and the news anchor’s silent mouth framing the words what do they want? without listening to the answer. Connor had raced out of the station earlier, and caught your eye as he went. You hope he's okay, wherever he is.

*

“Excuse me.”

Brown eyes meet yours, familiar intensity tempered with... caution? Nerves? It’s hard to tell them apart on a face that was built to display but not feel.

Connor wears plain clothes with all the ease of a soldier. There’s no tie to straighten, so he clenches and unclenches his hand and lets his eyes wander. They find you smiling, tentative but warm behind your professional attitude.

“How can I help, Connor?”

He’s clearly unused to the question. It’s endearing, really, to watch him like this—the self-possessed turned self conscious, attempting to hide in the shadow projected by his own image, broadcast endlessly on the new cycles at Markus’ left hand.

“Is Lieutenant Anderson here?”

“No. I don’t think he will be, either. He left about an hour ago.”

When Connor sighs, you wonder if he picked that up to blend in with humans or to help him communicate better with them. Both, probably. His fist coils up again, but he gives you a slight smile as he turns to leave.

“Connor.”

He turns, mildly surprised, to face you when you call his name. His smile is late but warm.

With one hand you reach for his, and with the other you slide a business card into his palm. The touch seems to surprise him further, and he stares at your hand even as you withdraw it.

“If you’re looking for Hank, he’s here. Diner out on the edge of town. I thought you’d come by looking for him.”

You’re glad to notice that he doesn’t look as guarded as before. Connor’s not around every day, not anymore, but you see him often enough to watch him relax into himself—to laugh when you make a self-deprecating joke, or hold the door for Officer Miller’s excitable son. Instead, Connor seems thoughtful, like you handed him something heavier than a wedge of paper with a cartoon burger on it.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

To your surprise, he lingers. Spends enough time to ask you about your family, about the plant you keep on your desk, which you should water, by the way. You talk quietly with him about almost-dead houseplants, why you’re not allowed to play Monopoly at home over the holidays, and show him the family dog. All the while he’s leaning against the counter, one arm crooked atop it and grinning… you’re more than distracted. He leaves the foyer, eventually, but not your thoughts.

*

Laughter covers cheesy Christmas music. You’re wearing half your wine glass in the colour of your cheeks, but Connor thinks the flush becomes you.

You notice when he glances at you, and you smile in that shy, self-conscious way. He returns your smile, adjusting his posture to face you, and you turn away, pretending that you barely noticed, and noticeably trying not to check back. He basks in private amusement.

The party draws on a little long—someone pulls out a bottle of something strong and definitely against regulation, and when Connor leans down to ask you if you’d like another drink, you jump.

You’re never in danger of falling, of course. Inhuman arms encircle you and hold you steady against an equally inhuman body—and for the first time, Connor feels a response that correlates with your change in expression. The slow pull that binds you and builds to something far stronger than he’s felt before until letting you go is unthinkable.

He makes a plausible excuse for you to leave. The charge in the air grows to fevered sharpness, a harmonic buzz that doesn’t break until he has one hand in your hair, the other encircling your waist, and that insatiable need to get closer.

Connor doesn’t leave any of you untouched. When his kisses would deny you air, he leaves them in trails down your neck, then undoes a handful of buttons to continue down your chest, hands restless and hungry, so much warmer than you’d ever imagined, so much more demanding.

When he whispers I don’t want to wait, it’s as if he read your mind. A shiver runs through you when he parts your legs and leans his weight into you, pushing inside with a growl that thrills you.

You tense around him. It’s not intentional, but he grabs your chin and holds you still beneath him, feeling the burning heat of your shaky breath past his thumb. He caresses your lower lip, and when you realise you can’t nod, you whisper please, and reach for him with both hands, in case he doesn’t understand how much you want him.

Connor leans back and pulls out almost all the way. You whine loud, desperate and frustrated, until the hand on your face tightens, cutting off your mumbled demand and making way for the moan he fucks out of you.

His fingers claw your jaw and throat and it’s heaven: the sharpness against your skin, the deep pressure inside you, building with every rock of his hips, chased with a mouth that suffocates and teases you until you’re dizzy.

You feel heavy, waves of sensation breaking over your body with increasing frequency and intensity, and no outlet except your nails in Connor’s back, scratching until he presses in deep again. You tense, on purpose, and half-feel, half-hear the stuttering moan, then the frenzied motion of his body as he pushes himself to the brink and drags you with him, tangled and messy, sharing breaths, but sated at last.

[foundfamilyftw]

Connor: I got bit by a Great Dane in my walk today.

Nico: Oh my god imagine if it had been a small child

Connor: I could have fought off a small child, Nico

[illbringthechaosmagic]

Connor was as silent as a cat as he walked in Wanda's bedroom with a tray in his hands. He started to get better at cooking; the ham and eggs with the toast looked perfect, with a mug of fresh coffee and milk and sugar beside it. He sat on the edge of her bed, just beside her, resting the tray in his lap as he smiled down at her sleeping form. Ever so gently, he stroked her face.

"Good morning, love", he murmured softly, "it's time to wake up."

@unstablerk800

@unstablerk800

Wanda stirred slowly as she felt something brushing against her cheek, realising not long after that it was Connor. As her eyes opened, she peered up at him with a smile, her hand coming up to brush against his hand. "Morning handsome," she whispered, catching a whiff of breakfast. "You know, you didn't have to go to all the effort my love. This is so sweet of you," she added when she caught sight of the tray, "thank you..."

[thetrevisostabber]

was looking over connor’s campaign one notes and found This.

[nerdstreak]

Hannah finally smiled, outreaching her hand towards Connor, and he met her halfway, as they held each other near their wrists, their way to find comfort in each other. The two then sighed, their anxieties now quelled with this talk. “Thank you, Connor, and especially you, Hank,” she quietly said, resting her head on Hank’s shoulder. “Yeah… thank you both…” Connor echoed, relaxing comfortably into the couch. “You’re both welcome.” After a few beats of silence, Hank spoke again. “So... is anybody getting up anytime soon?” “A few more minutes. This feels... nice,” Hannah admitted. “Alright then.”

breaking in the now somewhat unnecessary new tablet with chapter 10's drawing! unable to relate it to any of the september prompts but its still a fun one because this is technically a redraw after over 3 years! the piece i redrew i pretty much didnt like right off the bat and deleted it very soon after it was posted back then, so im glad to bring it some new life with the chapter art! original is below the cut!