Hello author, I hope you doing well and I would like to ask you an one shot if that's not bother you. I'm sorry in advance for the spelling mistakes, English is not my first language. (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃
Fandom : Bungou Strays Dogs
Theme : slightly angst/fluff&comfort
It's an Mori Ougai x GN!Reader, Friends to Lover ( their love eachother but didn't still confess )
Plot : The reader runs a cafe and has the ability to change and go in people's dreams as long as they knows their names.
Mori often frequents the cafe because Elise enjoys the desserts sold there. Mori and reader are friends because of this.
The reader don't know that's Mori was the Boss of the Port Mafia at the start and Mori don't know about Reader's ability at the start.
So one day, Reader notice that Mori don't feel very well because Mori have nightmares and bad sleep so innocently the Reader wish to make him feel better and decide to change and manipulate the dream's of Mori next night and discover that's the nightmare Mori have is about his past trauma during and the reader decide to comfort him. The reader also discover at the same time that's Mori is the boss of the Port Mafia.
Next day, Mori confront the Reader about this and after an discussion, they confess to eachother.
The end
I hope you would have an great day, goodbye author ! <(￣︶￣)>❤️❤️❤️
Whispered Names I Ougai Mori x Reader
Summary: A quiet café, a tired doctor, and a coffee shop owner with an ability. When you enter Mori’s dreams to offer comfort, you uncover the truth behind his nightmares—and who he really is.
A/N: This...is not my best work. I'm in the middle of finals but I had this started and wanted to finish this adorable scenario. Might edit it later cause some of the dialogues are very cringe. Thank you so much for the request, love! This story was a joy to write, and I hope it brings you the comfort and emotion you were looking for. I really admire your idea and your kindness—please don’t worry about your English, it was perfectly clear and heartfelt! Hope you enjoy!! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡
TW: themes of trauma, war, death, medical imagery, and implied assassination. Please read with care. (˘︶˘).｡.:*♡
MASTERLIST
The chime above the café door jingled with its usual gentle ring, soft and familiar like a whispered greeting. Mori Ougai stepped inside, posture straight, movements graceful and measured. Behind him, Elise bounced in with barely contained excitement, her eyes lighting up the moment she spotted the rows of strawberry parfaits displayed behind the glass case.
The café was warm and tranquil, a soft refuge tucked quietly away from the chaos of Yokohama’s streets. Sunlight pooled through the windows, casting golden stripes across the wooden floors. You were already behind the counter, drying a mug with a soft towel, and glanced up with a smile that came naturally at the sight of them.
“Welcome back,” you said, voice warm. “Your usual seat today?”
Mori’s lips curved into a polite, familiar smile. “Of course,” he replied, removing his gloves with slow precision. “And Elise, I assume, will insist on the parfait again?”
“Yes, yes!” Elise clapped her hands together and darted toward the window seat, the one she always claimed, already pulling her legs up into the booth like she owned the place. “With extra cream this time, okay? You always forget!”
“I don’t always forget,” you replied with a teasing glance. “But fine—extra swirl, just for you.”
She gave a little victorious “hmph,” folding her arms and watching the dessert case with laser focus.
Mori chuckled under his breath as he settled into the seat across from her, brushing a speck of lint from his coat sleeve. “She’s been talking about this parfait since last week. I believe I’ve been threatened with exile if we didn’t come today.”
“She does have excellent taste,” you said, stepping out from behind the counter with a small notepad in hand, though you already knew their order by heart. “Coffee for you? Black, no sugar, a dash of cinnamon?”
“Always.” He nodded. “You remember better than most.”
“I pay attention.” You offered him a quiet, knowing smile before scribbling the order anyway, more out of habit than need.
As you turned to head back toward the kitchen, Elise leaned over to whisper to Mori—loudly enough for you to still hear.
“You two should just marry already,” she said with exaggerated annoyance. “You keep staring.”
Mori raised a brow and cleared his throat, uncharacteristically flustered. “Elise.”
“What?” she huffed. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”
You bit your lip to hold back a laugh as you disappeared through the doorway to start on their drinks and dessert.
Behind you, Mori sighed. “Children,” he muttered, but there was the faintest softness in his voice—something not quite annoyance. Something else entirely.
He came often—too often, perhaps—for someone who clearly didn't belong to the quiet rhythm of everyday life. Not that he ever drew attention. Quite the opposite. When Rintarō walked through the café door, it wasn’t with the air of a powerful man. There was no tailored suit, no polished shoes, no slick professionalism that hinted at authority.
Instead, he wore the same worn white doctor’s coat, frayed slightly at the cuffs, like it had lived through more than it should have. His hair, once neatly parted, now fell messily around his temples, and he hadn’t shaved in days—his jaw shadowed with a soft stubble that made him look more tired than dangerous. If anyone noticed, they probably assumed he was just a fatigued hospital worker on a break. Someone normal. Invisible.
But not to you.
To you, he was the man who drank his coffee far too bitter, who hunched slightly when he read from crumpled medical texts in the corner, who only relaxed when Elise laughed with her mouth full of cream. You’d grown used to the image of him like this—unkempt, quiet, a little frayed around the edges—and maybe that’s why you liked him even more.
Here, in this little pocket of the world, he let his guard down. No title. No grandeur. Just a man who always chose the corner booth, who always said your name a little softer than necessary, who always seemed a little sad when he thought no one was looking.
He was rough around the edges, yes, but he was real. And you had come to look forward to that quiet presence more than you dared admit.
You knew so little, really. Only that he often sat silently while Elise devoured sweets with childlike glee, her voice rising with delight as she demanded more whipped cream or argued with him about dessert etiquette. And you? You’d linger longer than necessary at his table, refilling his cup when it was still half-full, offering a quiet smile and a few easy words.
Over time, the distance between you had shrunk—subtly, naturally. You learned he liked lilacs, though he never said it outright, only commented on the small vase of them once with the faintest curve of a smile. You’d noticed the way he paused before answering your questions, as if weighing how much of himself to offer. You respected that. Never pushed.
“Rintarou,” you called him, and he let you—no correction, no deflection.
Friends, you told yourself. That’s all it was. Friends who exchanged soft glances when the café grew quiet. Friends who always seemed to notice each other’s mood without speaking. But there was something in the silences between you—words neither of you dared speak aloud. Something lingering in the way your fingers brushed his when passing his cup. In the way his gaze lingered just a moment too long when he thought you weren’t looking.
No one had said it—not yet—but the space between friendship and something more was growing thinner with every visit.
You slid his coffee across the table, hand brushing his by accident. He didn’t pull away. But his eyes... were tired. More than usual.
You approached the table with his coffee in hand, setting it down with the gentle clink of ceramic against wood. Elise was too busy humming to herself while scribbling in a coloring book to notice anything, but you caught it the moment you looked at him—Rintarou’s eyes were duller than usual, ringed faintly with exhaustion. His posture wasn’t as straight, his shoulders slouched just slightly, and he hadn’t even bothered to brush the sleep lines from his cheek.
“You didn’t sleep well, did you?” you asked softly, sliding into the seat across from him, your tone more concerned than casual.
He looked up, blinking once like you’d caught him off guard. “Is it really that obvious?”
You gave him a small, lopsided smile. “Not to most people. But I’ve seen you when you’re... composed. And this isn’t it.”
His fingers curled loosely around the coffee cup, but he didn’t lift it right away. “You’re observant.”
“I run a café. People tell me things with their faces more than their words,” you said, watching him.
Rintarou was silent for a moment. His gaze dropped to the steam curling up from his cup, and something unreadable passed over his face— almost weariness.
“I just… wanted to check,” you added gently, as if afraid you might have overstepped. “If there’s anything I can do. Or if you just want to talk. Or even if you don’t want to say anything at all—I’m here ‘till closing.”
He looked at you then. Really looked. And in his eyes, there was something raw beneath all that restraint. He gave a short, humorless breath through his nose. “No, I’m alright.” he said, then softer, “but thank you.”
There was something tender in his voice when he said that—like the act of offering had meant more than your words. He finally brought the coffee to his lips, sipping it slowly. You didn’t push, just stood there with him for a moment in comfortable silence.
That night, you sat alone in your quiet apartment, troubled by the image of him. Your ability was a rare one. You could enter and influence dreams, as long as you knew someone’s name. And Rintarou Mori—you knew his name. You had never used your ability without telling someone. But this felt... different. He looked like he needed rest more than anything else. You only wanted to help.
So you closed your eyes, whispered his name, and fell into sleep.
The dream was a suffocating void, alive with pain and regret.
You found yourself in a makeshift field hospital, the air thick with antiseptic and screams. Young Rintarou—his once-crisp white coat stained by sweat and mud—raced between bloodied stretchers. He’d been a war doctor first, stitching wounds and administering morphine under relentless shellfire. Here, his hands shook as he tried to save soldiers he’d never know again.
Then the scene blurred, shifting to a dingy back-alley clinic, flickering lanterns casting half-shadows. He’d worked there next, an underground doctor tending to the city’s worst and desperate. His coat hung heavier, the fabric threadbare, but his eyes burned with quiet determination as he patched bullet wounds by candlelight.
Finally, the memory twisted, hard and sharp, dragging you into the dim, echoing halls of the Port Mafia’s headquarters. The air was cold, still, and heavy with finality. There, in the shadows of power, Rintarou knelt beside a frail figure collapsed on a silk-draped bed—his predecessor, the old boss. The man’s hair was ghost-white, slick with sweat, his breath shallow and rattling like wind through cracked glass.
You watched, heart tight, as the old man’s eyes snapped open. His voice came in a fevered whisper, slurred and manic: “Kill them… kill them all…”
And Rintarou—his expression unreadable, his face like carved porcelain—leaned in close. With steady, surgical precision, he withdrew a blade. Not a weapon of war, but a surgeon’s knife—sterile, deliberate, clinical.
Without a word, he drew it across the old man’s throat.
The blood was quick and silent, soaking into the sheets like ink. There was no cruelty in the act. No pleasure. Only cold necessity—and a trace of sorrow so deeply buried it almost went unnoticed. The boss’s last breath rattled like a judge’s gavel.
You stepped forward, the memory still settling around him like ash. The air was heavy with blood and silence—too many silences. The soldiers he couldn’t save. The desperate voices from that backroom clinic. The soft, wet sound of a throat being opened by his own hand.
They flickered in and out of focus—ghosts circling him, bound not by malice, but by memory. And Rintarou knelt at the center of it all, unmoving. Not resisting. Just… enduring. Shoulders stiff. Eyes blank. A man who had learned to carry his sins in silence because he thought no one else should have to.
You knelt beside him, your presence a ripple in the stillness. One hand reached out, brushing his sleeve—just enough. Not to erase what had happened, but to offer something else.
With the faintest pulse of your ability, the scene around you began to bend and soften. The dark walls of the Mafia’s inner sanctum melted away, brick by brick, and were replaced by open sky. Cold stone gave way to soft grass. The air warmed. Light returned.
And yet… he didn’t move.
Even in the dawn you offered, Rintarou sat frozen—jaw tight, fists clenched in his lap, as if terrified that letting go of the past would dishonor the dead he carried with him.
You looked at him, truly looked. Not as a doctor. Not as a killer. But as a man who’d lived through more than anyone should—and survived it alone.
And for the first time, in the quiet hum of his dream, you whispered, “You don’t have to keep reliving it to prove you remember.”
He didn’t answer, but his breath hitched—just once. And in that stillness, you saw it:
He heard you.
The next morning, Rintarou arrived alone.
No Elise. No usual easy pretense. Just him—standing in the doorway of your café with shadows under his eyes and something heavier in the set of his shoulders. The morning sun lit the edges of his worn coat, and though his hair was still tousled and a faint stubble clung to his jaw, there was nothing unkempt about the look in his eyes.
Sharp. Direct. Measured.
You met him behind the counter, offering his coffee without a word. But he didn’t take it right away.
“You,” he said quietly, eyes never leaving yours, “were in my dream.”
You stilled.
His tone wasn’t angry. Not quite. But it carried a weight that settled in the space between you like a blade laid gently on a table.
“I don’t remember everything,” he continued, tone calm but direct, “but I know enough. You changed it. You saw it. You saw me.”
Your throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to invade your mind, I swear. I didn’t even know—at first—that it was that kind of dream. You looked so… tired. I just wanted to help.”
Rintarou studied you in silence, his expression unreadable.
“You went where no one’s ever been,” he said finally. “My memories. My regrets. You saw what I did. What I became.”
“I did,” you said. “And I’m still treating you the same. Still here. That should tell you everything.”
His jaw tightened, like he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or ashamed. “You saw me kill him.”
You nodded.
A pause.
A beat.
“My real name is Ougai Mori. Rintarou is just what Elise likes to call me.”
There it was. Clear. Direct. A confession offered not with pride, but with unflinching honesty.
The words hung between you like a blade suspended mid-air.
You stared at him for a long moment, trying to match this quiet man—this gentle regular with worn sleeves and a sweet tooth for Elise’s sake—to the shadowed title that made the underworld tremble. And yet... it wasn’t hard. Because you had already seen what others hadn’t: the surgeon’s precision, the commander’s burden, the man beneath the weight.
You exhaled slowly. “So that’s the name behind the nightmares.”
You stared at him, the words settling between you like smoke that didn’t quite sting. It should have frightened you. It should have driven you back. But instead, you stepped closer—barely noticeable, just a shift in breath, in presence.
“…I figured it was something like that,” you said softly, voice steady. “After everything I saw… the weight you carry, the things you’ve done—yes, I know who you are now. But it doesn’t change what I see when I look at you.”
You stepped around the counter and walked up to him. Close enough that you could see the worry he almost—almost—managed to hide.
“You didn’t become a monster,” you said, voice steady despite the storm inside you. “You became a man carrying more than anyone should have to. You made choices that no one else wanted to make. I’m not going anywhere.”
A long silence passed. He looked at you, really looked at you, with those dark eyes that had seen far too much. And for a moment, something softened in them—something fragile and human and achingly real.
“I should have walked away from this place the moment I realized what I was beginning to feel,” he said, voice low. “But I couldn’t. I told myself it was for Elise. For the quiet. The coffee.”
He smiled faintly. A sad, small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “But it was always you.”
Your breath caught.
“I stay because you make me forget,” he continued, “just for a little while… what I’ve done. What I am. You remind me that there’s still something gentle left in me.”
You reached out then, fingers brushing his coat sleeve before taking his hand completely. It was warm. Solid. Hesitant.
“I don’t want you to forget,” you whispered. “I want you to remember—and still believe there’s something worth holding onto. Something good. Something soft.”
His fingers curled around yours.
“…You make me want things I’d convinced myself I didn’t deserve.”
“Then let yourself have them,” you said, voice a little shaky. “Let yourself have this.”
A silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was full of something softer. Something waiting.
And then, without another word, he leaned in—tentative, careful, like he was giving you every chance to step away.
You didn’t.
You closed the distance, pressing your forehead to his, your hand still wrapped in his. There was no rush. No urgency. Just the quiet bloom of something long overdue.
When you finally pulled back, he was smiling—not the sharp, practiced smile you’d seen so many times, but something smaller. Warmer. Real.
“I’d like to stay,” he said, his voice barely above a breath. “If you’ll have me.”
Justice League Relationship Headcanons (Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, Green Lantern, The Flash)
Pairing: Clark Kent (Superman), Diana Prince (Wonder Woman), Bruce Wayne (Batman), Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Barry Allen (The Flash) x Reader (platonic and romantic interpretations available!)
Warnings:
Mentions of superhero duties and high-stakes situations.
Light angst in dealing with their heroic responsibilities.
Fluff, humor, and moments of deep connection!
Summary:
Forming relationships with the iconic members of the Justice League means navigating both the extraordinary and the mundane. From Clark Kent’s quiet, protective love to Diana Prince’s warm, passionate nature, these headcanons explore the unique dynamics of what it’s like to bond with some of the world’s greatest heroes. Whether romantic or platonic, each hero brings their own charm, warmth, and complexity to a relationship with you.
Relationship Headcanons
Superman (Clark Kent)
Clark is the epitome of wholesome love. He always checks in on you, even when he’s halfway across the world saving lives.
He loves quiet, domestic moments like cooking breakfast together or stargazing in Smallville.
Clark is incredibly supportive of your dreams and constantly encourages you to pursue them, no matter how big or small.
He has a habit of leaving little handwritten notes for you to find, filled with kind words and reminders of how much he loves you.
When he’s with you, he’s just Clark—no cape, no responsibilities, just a farm boy in love with you.
Wonder Woman (Diana Prince)
Diana is a hopeless romantic who loves grand gestures, like gifting you flowers she picked herself or reciting poetry under the moonlight.
She adores sharing her Amazonian culture with you, from stories of Themyscira to teaching you their combat techniques.
Diana’s protective nature shines when you’re in danger, but she never underestimates your strength or abilities.
She loves discussing philosophy and ethics with you, valuing your perspective and insights.
Diana believes in cherishing every moment, often reminding you that time is precious and love should be celebrated every day.
Batman (Bruce Wayne)
Bruce is subtle but deeply caring. He’ll quietly ensure you’re taken care of, whether that’s making sure your car is repaired or leaving your favorite tea in the kitchen.
He values your presence in his life as a grounding force, someone who reminds him of the good he’s fighting for.
Bruce struggles with vulnerability but trusts you enough to let his walls down over time.
He’s a night owl, so you often find yourselves sharing quiet conversations in the Batcave during the early hours.
Despite his serious demeanor, he has a soft spot for teasing you gently, especially when you call him out on his brooding tendencies.
Green Lantern (Hal Jordan)
Hal loves adventure, and that extends to your relationship. He’s always planning exciting dates, like flying over scenic landscapes or visiting alien worlds.
He has a cocky but charming sense of humor, often using it to make you laugh or lighten the mood.
Hal is incredibly loyal and makes sure you know you’re his priority, even when duty calls him to the far corners of the galaxy.
He’s surprisingly sentimental, keeping small mementos from your time together in his ship.
Hal adores showing off for you, whether it’s through his flying skills or creative uses of his power ring.
The Flash (Barry Allen)
Barry is full of energy and always finds ways to keep your relationship exciting, from surprise dates to goofy antics.
He loves cooking for you (even if he tends to burn things) and insists on trying out new recipes together.
Barry often uses his super speed to make your life easier, like zipping around to clean the house or grabbing your favorite snacks in seconds.
He’s a big fan of cuddling and will happily spend hours on the couch with you, watching movies or playing games.
Barry’s optimism and humor are infectious, making every moment with him feel lighthearted and fun.
Platonic Headcanons
Superman (Clark Kent)
Clark is like the big brother everyone needs—always willing to listen and offer thoughtful advice.
He’s the kind of friend who’ll drop everything to help you, whether it’s fixing your car or talking through a tough decision.
Clark loves introducing you to his family in Smallville, especially his mom, who insists on cooking you a feast.
He’s a huge cheerleader for your achievements, no matter how small, and makes you feel like a superhero in your own right.
Clark’s warmth and kindness make him a comforting presence, especially when you’re feeling down.
Wonder Woman (Diana Prince)
Diana is endlessly encouraging and always helps you see your inner strength.
She enjoys teaching you self-defense, but her lessons often turn into bonding moments filled with laughter.
Diana loves sharing stories about her life and hearing about your experiences, seeing them as equally valuable.
She’s fiercely loyal and will stand by your side through anything, offering both wisdom and support.
Diana values your perspective, often seeking your input on missions or philosophical debates.
Batman (Bruce Wayne)
Bruce is the friend who’s always looking out for you, even if he doesn’t show it overtly. He’ll have Alfred check in or send something you need before you even ask.
He respects your independence but subtly ensures you’re safe, often running background checks on people in your life.
Bruce’s dry sense of humor comes out more often around you, especially when you call him out on his habits.
He admires your resilience and often finds inspiration in your determination to overcome challenges.
Despite his guarded nature, Bruce values your friendship deeply and considers you part of his inner circle.
Green Lantern (Hal Jordan)
Hal is the fun friend who’s always dragging you on spontaneous adventures, whether it’s a road trip or an impromptu party.
He loves teaching you about his intergalactic adventures and even lets you try using his power ring in a controlled environment.
Hal’s laid-back attitude makes him easy to talk to, and he’s great at diffusing tension with his humor.
He’s the type to hype you up and remind you how amazing you are, even when you’re doubting yourself.
Hal’s loyalty runs deep, and he’ll always have your back, no matter the circumstances.
The Flash (Barry Allen)
Barry is the friend who’s always checking in, whether it’s through a quick text or literally running by to see you.
He loves sharing his latest experiments or inventions, often roping you into helping him test them.
Barry’s enthusiasm is contagious, and he’s great at cheering you up when you’re feeling down.
He’s the first to volunteer for any project or plan you have, bringing his energy and optimism to the table.
Barry treasures your friendship and often goes out of his way to make you smile, whether through a thoughtful gesture or a goofy joke.
Author’s note: So I wrote half of this months ago but only managed to finish it now. Anyway, feedbacks are encouraged and until next time, my darlings!
Pairing: Connor x Gender neutral! Reader
Prompt: For as long as you can remember, you feel like there’s a gap in your memory. Who could it be; the one who plagues your dreams with incoherent bits and pieces of memories?
Warning: angst
— 🌹 —
Seconds stretched into hours, and hours into days when you thought of the gaping hole, which was expanding along the ticks of the clock, that your heart bore, and as if the God of Misfortune decided that their first gift for you wasn’t altruistic enough, there came those shallow depressions and faults on the surface of your memories that became a sunken cave with its wall coloured in melancholy.
The more you welcome them into your mind, the harsher their affects on you became, and the damage done to you in emotional terms was only acknowledged by you when you could finally feel the emptiness consume every bit of joy in you. Even after all these were done to you, the culprit was painstakingly yet to be found.
Ever since the injury sustained by you during the android revolution, you could feel a slight breeze in your memories which was supposed to be stacked, indicating that there was a spot somewhere along the shores of the sea of memories purposely dug by someone. The void in your heart made you feel like there was single damning piece in the entire puzzle, that was your heart, that was missing and seemingly lost in the maze of scattered emotions and memories -- damned to the point that the thought of an escape to this suffering was something that belonged to a horror film, and hope deemed an enemy of this place.
Who was it that formed this unfortunate chasm in your heart?
Who was it that shattered your masterpiece of a life that took years to paint -- who was it that made the canvas of life so barren and lifeless -- who was it that painted your walls black and white -- who was it that began all of this?
Brown.
After an unknown period of time, you unconsciously developed an attraction to the colour of earth: brown, the colour of the roots of ancient oak trees; of the chestnuts that provides an excellent, rich taste to the tongue; of the bitter, bold cacao that was yet to be tainted by the hands of humans, only to be turned into something that contradicted the originality; of the man-made strands of short hair that would dance along with the wind as if they bore some sensation of their own exhilaration and life; of the auburn tint in his eyes that spoke of great love, putting Shakespeare’s odes to a test.
His eyes.
When staring into the eyes created by the clumsy hands of humans themselves, profound, were they of gauche passion of an amateur; and yet, ever so deserving of so much love and attention that it was painful. Eyes, which on the surfaces were the barks and songs of nature that you dearly loved, and as one traveled deeper, that was to gain a deeper understanding to them, one would see the side that was touched by the silvery rays of sunlight of humanity. He was just that beguiling, and the feeling of staring into those eyes of his: heavenly.
Why? Out of all the memories of your beloved that were forcibly taken away from you, this was the one that created an abyss of sorrow that had no ends nor predictions of when it would strike you. Maybe this was because you were never really granted closure to the absence of the person who must have went through all sorts of hindrance and glory to offer them to you, and the inability to grasp even the silhouette of that person was enough to burden you with the guilt of thousands; it was as if letting something that your beloved had entrusted to you go without any vain attempt to halt its undue departure.
His love for you and only you; it amounted to the millions of fireflies during a rancorous desolate night that would guide you to a path that you have dreamed of ever since you were a child. Magical, was his love for you and only you.
By that time you were kicked out of your verdant forest of thoughts and flashbacks, you realized that you had unconsciously wrote ‘Connor’ on a piece of barren paper laying on your desk. Even if you have no recollection of when and why did you write that, you could sense a hint of intense despondency and separation of two lovers that took place sooner than what was planned by fate.
No great importance or attention was granted to the mysterious name, but after a few restless nights and unforeseen flashbacks of the blurry past that came in a tiny debris-like manner, you decided to inquire about it from your longtime best friend and colleague, who you fortunately reconciled with after the unfortunate accident resulting in the loss of certain memories, North.
“North?” you called out, your voice mildly shivering with uncertainty and fear, to which the reply was a simple ‘what’s up?’. “Do -- did... I know of someone named ‘Connor’?”
If only you had the ability to observe the tiniest actions and behavioral changes, you would have noticed the lips that trembled in hesitancy; the discomfort and worry that were etched in the delicate wrinkles that surrounded the eyes, then gradually scintillated and burst into hues of passionate woe and abnormally, relief. It was as if one was watching the play of Romeo and Juliet, only to feel the tragic tale stinging one’s heart throughout the period of time in which the prominent play took place, and the difference in the ending that was yet to shock the audience who were destined to heave a sigh in relief, as if they were blessed by a happy ending to the distressing tale.
Another twist to add to the list was the shoulders that tensed up after momentarily relaxing, “Not that I know of... why do you ask?” North replied, and only if you had noticed the sudden change in the way she articulated, however you were too busy indulging in the disappointment, and for an unsaid period of time, you let loose and was soon, once again, engulfed by the profound feeling of his absence and the void in your heart.
But by the end of the day, you were not an Android and because of that, you failed to analyze the minuscule inconsistencies in your friend’s behavior. Perhaps fate had decided that the time when you would be blessed with refills of the gaps in your memory had yet to arrive. Perhaps fate had decided it would be best if the meeting between the both of you was the last in the blurry sea of memories. Perhaps you had forever lost his identity, and the chance for new memories to be created deemed futile.
At times when the clock struck twelve and when the moon rose proudly above the dark sky, you laid in bed, listening to the occasional sounds of fabric and comforter ruffling according to your restless tosses and turns, and as vigorous as your movements, your mind was tempestuous with indecisive thoughts and flashes of incorigible scenes before your eyes. Over and over again, you wondered and pondered about him, and whether he was dealing with the consequences similar to yours. Did he trouble himself as much as you did over the absence of one another? A thousand of questions risen and demanded to be answered but by the end of the day, a mystery and fruitless questioning were all they ever were.
Contrary to your expectations, your line of work refused you to dwell on seemingly pointless conceptions, and before you knew it, you were entangled with the police as one of the higher ups at the place of your work was accused of money laundering and scamming, and occasionally, you were called into for questioning. Despite the process being mentally and physically exhausting, you were intrigued by one of the Androids that was stationed to the case.
Brown eyes and brown hair that seemed so familiar to you, and yet, the icy blue eyes and bitter frown that looked so... strange to you, as if they were supposed to be something else— something different; perhaps it was the colour of the eyes or the way the corners of the eyes were sloped and the warmth or lack thereof from the lips. How could someone looked so familiar yet so peculiar to you?
RK900.
That was everything you knew about him, other than the fact that he worked alongside the police and was partnered with a man named Gavin Reed. So far you hadn’t made the attempt to gain some sort of answer to this mystery, and often at night, you would think otherwise. Maybe you should let curiosity take over your logical side once in a while.
Still, despite your nonexistent efforts, your eyes would often travel towards the direction of the wordless man standing beside his human mentor whenever you were bought into question. As sneaky as you thought you were, the Android was far more adept and skilled than you would have expected and had noticed your interest in him ever since day one, hilariously, but chose not to comment on the fact. That was, until one particular day when he seemed to make an abrupt decision out of nowhere to talk to you.
“Y/N,” he called out, his voice deep as the ocean, smooth as silk and as cold as the Artic, one day just as you were leaving your work building. You may not know or may never know but he had been waiting for you hours long before the end of your work hour for some reason, and despite looking as composed as a man who has reached the highest level of understanding as life, he was as curious as you were. His feelings of interest and inquisitiveness were in contrary to what he was programmed to do; perhaps they were the result from being taught by his older model.
“RK900,” you replied quite dully although you would be lying if you said you weren’t shocked at his sudden appearance. The case involving your accused superior was over recently and there shouldn’t be any reason for the two of you to meet again, right?
“I... I noticed your occasional stares directed at me, Y/N,” he stated, sounding so bitter and cold towards the world yet quite nervous that he refused to look at you. After all, you were someone unique which he learnt from him. “I know I remind you of someone,” he continued, and as soon as he finished the sentence, your composure began to eat itself and you were, once again, disturbed and bemused.
“Connor. RK800. #313 248 317. Produced in August,3038. You met him months before the final Android Revolution,” he began, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you to check your response to the bombardment of information. Surely, from the way your lips quiver and hands tremble, he knew that you were starting to remember something. He could certainly thank himself for making the decision to come to you on that day out of his own will. Things were bound to end tragically but he thought that you at least deserved to be filled of the void in your memories and heart.
“The two of you bonded rather quickly and... things happened shortly afterwards,” he continued, referring to the time you fell in love with the Android first disregarding the situation and tension between the two races at that time. At this point, he was hesitant to continue since he knew what happened afterwards.
“I... I...,” you stuttered, desperately racking through your disorganized thoughts jumbled with recovering memories for something to say. Connor. Connor. Connor. RK800. The Android who evacuated you from the riot. The same Android who captured your heart with his corky and unoriginal attempts at jokes and adorable behavior unexpected from an Android of high caliber such as him.
“Ah... how could I forget him,” you laughed bitterly as you recalled the time you spent together with you tagging along him and Hank as an eager journalist. You remembered the way you two bonded and the amusing way he worried about the risks that came with being a journalist. Despite his concerns, you continued with the job and in the end, it was your foolish drive and carelessness that led you towards your demise; with you mortally wounded due to a failed attempt to photograph the confrontation between Marcus and the humans.
Sure, you were fond of the sweet memories that came first but you weren’t so certain about what was coming at the end. Your legs were wobbling like an earthquake was just beneath the very ground you stood on, so you had to take a deep breath and take a seat on a bench bellow a nearby tree. The man near you followed suit and sat awkwardly beside you, making sure to leave a generous quantity of space between you two. Although he knew how solemn and troubled you were, he was unsure on what to do; whether to act as himself and stay still or do something according to what he would have done.
“Blood,” you mumbled, desperately wiping the hot, stinging tears streaming down your face before covering your face with her hands, plopping your elbows down on your thighs. You finally remembered, and as much as your head throbbed painfully, the excruciating pain in your chest was something else. It was simply heart-wrenching and suffocating, as if you were buried 6 feet below underneath all the memories and pain, guilt and self-blame.
Blood. The sanguine red liquid was everywhere, as you recalled, and it was yours that leaking from the wound on your head from the collision before with the concrete ground. However, you wished and wished that it was only your blood there, but at last, your pleas and cries for help went unheard. You knew and remembered the weight on your body as you laid on the ground, barely conscious but sheltered and protected from the lifeless body above you. The cold, bitter blue liquid dripped onto you from the gunshot on his forehead, and before you knew it, the last thing you saw before you blacked out flashed before your eyes at a painfully slow rate.
“Oh god... please, no, please tell me it was all a dream,” you begged to no one particularly as you broke down once again. The pain of his absence and lack of final goodbyes devoured your mentality, and the guilt and blame on no one but you clung onto you with their malicious, poisonous long claws that dug deeply into your heart.
You hoped that his lifeless eyes were the last thing that you saw. You hoped that the reality was something different. You hoped... only if you hadn’t made the stupid decision that almost took your life... only if you had listened to him... only if he was alive now. Only if you could convince yourself that things didn’t turn out the way it did. Only if you could turn back time and... and save his life. So many only ifs and so much pain; it was almost unbearable; the feeling of having somewhat brought your beloved to their demise was damning, and you felt like you couldn’t ever forgive yourself for not paying heed to his warnings.
But most of all, you cursed yourself for having the audacity to forget almost everything about him. Perhaps you wouldn’t be suffering if you hadn’t learnt about him; however, you still felt it wasn’t right for you to forget someone who sacrificed himself for you and only you.
‘If he was only here,’ you told yourself, ‘I would tell him how much I love and treasure him and never let him go.’ Only that was impossible now that he was gone definitely. He wasn’t here anymore to tell you how much you mattered to him; he wasn’t here anymore to tell you jokes that he googled on his search engine; he wasn’t here to make you smile and laugh and cherish you. One moment he was here and the next, he was gone.
“I am so sorry... Connor,” you cried uncontrollably, wanting to rip your heart at this moment as it thumped painfully and rapidly within your chest which suffocated and strangled you from within. Your cries and screams resonated throughout the neighborhood as you grieved and grieved, and desperately wished for end to these mournful feelings.
“Y/N,” the man beside you whispered gently, reaching out to grab your hand tightly to try to reassure you. The LED on his forehead whirled into a brilliant yellow as several thoughts and memories flowed through his mind, but the most prominent emotion was sorrow and detachment as he knew that these memories didn’t belong to him. It had belonged to the man you had dearly adored and loved you. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you how his predecessor passed— by desperately transferring his memories into the system and screaming your name over and over again until his voice broke and distorted into that of a horror; slow and robotic and devoid of life.
“He would have wanted you to move on, Y/N,” he said before pulling you in for a hug, surprising yourself and himself as he was unsure if that action was based on his own will or Connor’s memories. Nonetheless, the two of you stayed locked in that embrace for a long time before the agony and despair in you began to subside. When you emerged from the hug, you were noticeably calmer yet still pained to the core.
“Thank you for coming here to tell me,” you said emotionlessly and numbly with a heavy sigh, staring at your own feet and feeling your nails digging into your palm as you tried to manage your composure.
“It’s alright... everything will be okay, Y/N.” He said with a smile that seemed like a rainbow after a heavy downpour for you. It was flamboyant and abundant of emotions and familiarity. You bit your lips at the sight as you felt tears threatening to fall once again. He looked so much like him and reminded you so much of him that it stung a bit.
At the end of the day, your final wish was to be able to meet him again one day, no matter the place. Even if the time spent together was transient, it was heavenly and you were grateful.
Imagine being a new worker at one of Tony’s favorite small restaurants, and he is surprised at how normal you treat him.
When Tony walked into the quaint Italian restaurant he was not expecting to see a new waiter. His heart felt heavy in his chest, not wanting to deal with what would be a normal fan reaction (Even if they were attractive.) He had wanted to have a stress free night, and he knew that the people in this restaurant didn’t normally care who he was, but who knew what this new waiter would be like.
They started to walk over to him, supposedly not seeing who he was, and he resigned himself to his fate. There was no going back now, they were right at his table, and they spoke without even looking up.
“Good evening. What can i get for you today? Would you like the drinks menu?”
They looked up at the end of their question, flipping their note pad to the next page, and pulling out the drinks menu from their apron. The shock and amazement he expected to see wasn’t there. Their expression stayed the same, and they held out the drinks menu like they would any other customer.
Baffled he asked, “Don’t you know who I am?”
That, that sounded more condescending than he meant for it to. And by the look they was sending him, they thought so too.
The waiter sighed, looking much like he was sure he did at the end of an Avengers meeting.
“Course I know who you are Mister Stark, but your my customer and I should treat you as such.” They paused, and then looked to the side, almost looking shy,”Plus you must get tired of being treated like your the only one on top of the world. Thats a lot for one person, so if one person like myself doesn’t put that pressure on your shoulders then maybe you’ll be a bit better off.” The waiter smiled at Tony again, and tucked the pen behind their ear.
Tony gaped at them for a short while, but when he collected himself all he said was, “Thank you,”.
AN: in this fic Michael is in his late 20s early 30s and reader is in their mid 20s
You were walking with your friends towards class when you spotted him, someone new at your school. He was so cute, big glasses, slightly ruffled hair and a bandana. He was everything you found attractive and you could already feel your cheeks heating up from the thought of him talking to you. “Hey Y/N we’re gonna be late! Stop drooling and get your ass to class!” Said your friend, you quickened you pace to your classroom and you couldn’t stop thinking about the guy you had seen in the hallway earlier, he was just so perfect you thought about all the possible cliché ways you could get him to start talking to you. You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t realise the bell had rung, you came back to your senses and left the classroom headed to your last class of the day, music it was always a big part of your life and you couldn’t imagine a life without it. You were always early for music class and so you were surprised when you approached the door to hear someone singing “Michael in the bathroooooomm at a partyyyyy” his voice sounded like pure heaven. You opened the door as quietly as you could so as not to disrupt his singing, you opened it to see the handsome man from before standing before you belting out a song you had never heard before, he portrayed the heartbreak perfectly with his voice breaking at just the right time. Because he had his eyes closed he couldn’t see you awestruck with your jaw almost on the floor, before he opened his eyes you gathered yourself and once he opened his eyes, oh my god his beautiful Hershey’s chocolate irises were enough to make you melt right then and there. He looked so surprised to find out that you were listening to him sing and hadn’t tried to block your ears. He stuttered out “h-hey I’m sorry you had to listen to that but how are you doing I’m your new music teacher, Mr Mell. Sorry if we got off on the wrong foot.” He blushed so much he could rival a tomato. You needed a moment to calm yourself ‘this guy is my music teacher and he’s so adorable?!??!!’ You thought to yourself. You extended your arm to give him a handshake, whilst saying “I actually loved your singing and I’m really happy you’re my music teacher ‘cause you seem pretty cool, nice to meet you I’m Y/N.” He blushed even more from your comments, then extended his own arm to you shaking your hand with his own. ‘Oh god this is gonna be such a good school year’ you thought to yourself as he started to speak again “Y/N.. your previous music teacher told me you were the best in her class and that I should expect great things from you, I hope we can have a good school year together.” You smiled and blushed just as much as he did previously. “Same here.” You said and took your seat waiting for the other students to arrive. This is gonna be the best year of your life!
AN: Thank you for reading this crappy fluff fic, if someone wants more just tell me and I might actually make a full chapter or two
@kanicro
Made a beautiful piece of art for this!! You can find it here
A/N: It’s difficult to find me in a good mood these days because school just opened recently. But anyway, I had to write this because it’s been in my head for some time. Feedbacks are encouraged and extremely appreciated!
Prompt: Connor and you get to spend time together after settling down.
Pairing: Connor x Gender-neutral Android Reader
Warning: None
Disbelief still devoured reality sometimes but it didn’t cause any harm. Instead, it offered you reassurance and happiness each time it was over. When the day ended and the night greeted you, calmness washed over you until a new dawn approached you. Then, you would open your eyes and ask yourself, “Is it really over? Are we finally free?”
‘Yes’ was the answer that bought you to tears every single time. Freedom tasted succulent and savory, it was everywhere, in your veins, in your wires. No more restrictions to hold you back in a cage with dirty bars. No more abuse would be shoved down your throat every time you bled and cried in exchange for freedom. No more was the suffering. The pain you had gone through couldn’t be forgotten but the freedom that greeted you at the end of the day was memorable.
So here you were, in a city bustling with androids who were masters of themselves and humans who were followers of credence. A life combined with androids and humans was finally happening before your eyes, and it was truly a gorgeous sight to see. You, androids, and humans were like colours on a palette to be mixed together to create a breathtaking masterpiece.
Your hands carefully touched the brilliant sunflowers adorning your head, immersing yourself in your constantly changing thoughts and the soft touch of the fragile petals. Silence befriended comfort and together, they approached you. The smell of the verdant grass and the moisturized dirt embraced your nose, offering you a feeling you couldn’t find words to describe. It was strange, the feelings, it made you forget everything and actually enhance the feeling of being a human: the feeling of being able to think without restrictions: the feeling of being able to feel without discriminations.
After a few minutes, you greeted reality with a warm smile as the sound of your beloved fiddling with the sunflowers and branches entered your eyes. Smiling at him, you laid your head on his shoulder, feeling him tensed up from being extremely focused for a split second before returning to his work. His bark brown eyes were no longer void of emotions for now it was adorned with joy and love. The corners of his lips were slightly turned to form a tiny, unnoticeable smile.
Connor also found himself with confusion deep in his stomach at times when he would doubt the present and would only increase the vagueness with questions and theories. What if he was all imagining all these things? He couldn’t believe that he could find happiness, freedom and love after being misled countless times. Blessed by your everlasting love, he would always find confidence in your loving touch and the sweet sound of your laughter at the end of the day.
“Hey, Connor, what should we plant next in the garden?” You questioned him just as he added the finishing touch to the flora crown you asked to make. He placed the crown in your hands as he stared into the distance, seemingly thinking.
During that time, you took the opportunity to admire the flawless masterpiece in your hands. The golden rays of sunlight shrouding the both of you in the garden only glorified the gorgeous yellow petals and the emerald green leaves. After a few weeks of being taught by Ralph, he finally knew how to make a perfect flower crown. Ralph told you he wouldn’t accept the littlest mistakes and would keep pestering him to teach him, which would always piss off the actually soft-hearted gardener.
Noticing you appreciating the sunflower crown, Connor couldn’t help but grinned from ear to ear. He couldn’t tell you that he was so engrossed in trying to impress you and make you happy. The past weeks had been hectic with work and settling down, so you were in desperate need of relaxation. His hand found its way towards yours as your fingers entwined with one another’s and settled in the empty spaces flawlessly like puzzles.
“I think... we should plant lavenders,” Connor said, thinking about what Ralph told him. Lavenders symbolized love, protection and happiness which would always welcome him as soon as he step foot in the house. His fingers gently brushed against the back of your hand as his eyes gazed into your orbs coated with an unbreakable layer of elation.
“Hmm,” You hummed softly, repositioning yourself to sit in a upright position as you carefully placed the sunflower crown on top of your boyfriend’s rich dark hair. The radiant flora halo residing atop of Connor magnified the colour of his eyes and his captivating smile of satisfaction. Wrinkles formed around your eyes as you found yourself grinning and laughing at the adorable sight with pure exhilaration.
“Connor, you look fetching,” you complimented as you laid your head on top of his shoulder again, which was sort of a comfy pillow for you. Connor smiled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, finding confidence in your twinkle without bothering to check on himself in the mirror.
Time passed without any clumsy tripping or careless mistake along with your conversation. Surrounded by nothing but one another’s love and the luscious flora and fauna, Connor and you were spilling out anything that ever crossed your mind. The pleasant stream of the words was only cut short when the very first droplets of the rain greeted the ground and your skins. As if they were extremely excited to meet the ground, the rain began its heavy downpour in a short span of time; managing to drench Connor and you from head to toe.
This time, the pitter and patter of the rain came alone as the absence of the fiery thundering offered a sense of calmness to you. Without having the fear getting sick, you were in no hurry to get inside, instead, you allowed the rain to swallow you completely as the chilling liquid washed over your skin. It was a pleasant feeling to stay under the rain, undisturbed and unbothered by the raging world outside; it was as if you were in a world of your own creation.
Slowly, Connor helped you to your feet and guided you across the garden and to the open space in the middle. Your feet hit the wet stone path with a splash as his hands gently guided yours to his shoulders. You gazed into his eyes with questions ready to be asked which was answered with a grin from Connor. It was if he was eager to show you something.
In a leisurely motion, you both glided across the yard, close in each other’s touch and unbothered by the chilling touch of the raindrops. Your eyes gazed at his, and his at yours, as if you both were trying to find something of extreme value beneath the shimmering orbs filled with priceless emotions.
There was no music to dance, only the melodic tunes of the rain which decreased in its downfall like it was customizing itself to suit the atmosphere between you. Nothing could ever disturb you in this paradise you both created, where troubles were laying on the table motionlessly, unable to pull you back from experiencing a true masterpiece that was unfolding before your eyes.
The rain stopped, and so did you, and instead you wrapped your hand around Connor’s hand as the the synthetic skin seeped from your fingertips slowly to your palms. Both of you stared at the process in awe, despite not being new to this type of connection. Your pristine white hands locked into each other perfectly like a key and a lock; the space between them vanishing without a trace and the tiniest creeks and crevices were filled with affection and warmth.
“I love you,” you whispered as you leaned in to kiss his lips, his cheeks and nose gently without breaking away from the contact between your hands. Connor pushed the stray strands of hair from your face and embraced you on your lips in a calm, yet passionate kiss. Both of your LEDs spun into the color of the sunflowers as the hold on one another’s hand tightened as if you were both reluctant to let go of each other.
“I love you, Y/N,” Connor smiled as you pulled away from the meaningful kiss and lost yourself in his gazing nature-colored eyes. He found life and purpose in you and you in him, and it was an extravagant exchange between you. He gave you protection and everything you could have asked for, and you gave him warmth and love, something he desperately was in need of. There was something in each of you that made your hearts bloomed with various kinds of emotions, and those emotions were indescribably beautiful and priceless; a combination which was deemed too worthy to be taken lightly.
You laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck softly, without ever pulling your hands away. Connor used his free hand to hug you lovingly, resting his head on yours comfortably. There was a silent promise that was made between you two, and enormous love passed. And, in this moment, you were reminded of the gorgeous love between you and the purpose of being alive. Being alive didn’t mean that you have to have a heart and breath, and it was more about feeling something in your chest; whether it was joy, tragedy or love.
