"How do you describe love? It's not just an emotion, it's a being.
Love is the angel at your shoulder, it's the pounding in your chest when you check your tie just one more time before you leave for the date. It's the pain that pierces your heart when you see them smile at someone that isn't you. It's the fear of not being exactly what they desire, but rather a mediocre existence that seems to be 1/3 of what they want. It's the dark look in your eyes as you pin them against the wall, exploring the spots on their neck that makes them jump or whimper. Love isn't tangible. It is not an object. The roses will die and the chocolates will expire. Hugs when you take their breath away. Kissing in the rain. Laughing until you're snorting. Hanging over a toilet bowl puking your brains out while they rub your back. Getting the salad that got stuck in their teeth. Love isn't all happiness. To love, you need to know them inside and out. What makes them tick? What's their favorite book? How do they react to fear?
Love can also hurt you in ways you cannot imagine. The piercing blow of a bullet going through your chest when they scream at you, tears streaming down their cheeks. The shove you receive when you are asked to never come back.
Under the halo, there's a pair of devil horns. Never take anything at face value... I would know.
And most importantly, realize that love is what killed your soulmate, Connor."
"Lieutenant Anderson, if I may ask you this: Why are you helping me?"
"It hurts more than anything to see someone be pulled away from your grasp in a matter of seconds because of someone else's misdeeds. Plus, I have nothing better to do. Get my gun, it's in the third drawer under the navy blue shirt. We've got to pay Indigo a little visit.
And kid, just call me Hank."
į̴̬͇̙̞̼͚̝̉͛͒͑ͪ̋̑ͦ̅̐ͣ̔͗̓ͣ̈ͬͣ͠ͅ҉҉̶̡̨̛t̴̶̸̢͚̜̣̟͇̦̞̰͎͇̥͕̰̤͙̼̟̝͉ͬ̍̆̈́̑͊ͣ̍̍ͩ̿̉͋̀ͨ̍̉̐̋͢͜͝͞͡҉̨̛́͟͞'̷̣͔̞̤̠̝͚̱͙͚͑̐ͨͩ̍̀̈͆͛͘͠͠͠҉̧̡̕͝͞s̴͚͓͙̤̲͐̔̅̆̌ͮ̅͑̌͆́̒̓ͤ̾͌̍͊̏̒́͠͏̸̶̡̀̀͏̢̧̨͡ ̷̴̸͉̳̗͚̖̘̱̩̭͚̞̺̤̘͉̼͚̏̓̄̂̒̌ͬ̇͡͝ͅ͏̷̷̷̵̢̧̧̨̀̀͘͜͢͜o̹̻̲̙͇ͮ͑́́̐̆ͫ́̍ͮ̐̓̚n͔̝͖̳̰̬̤̲̤͕̭̟͓̮̎̽̎͂̋̆̆ͨͨ̃͐̀͢͡͠͏̵̛͡͏̸͏̵̵̡́͝͡l̴̠̼̬̙̭͇̤̖̏ͧͬͧ̄ͯ̽͌ͮ̓̀̂ͧ̚y̴̵̵̷̶̷̢̢̢̨̭̲͈̜̱̱̲̩͇̹̜͎͉̰̤͚̐ͮ̈́̄͗̎̀́̀́́̀͞ͅ҉ ̷̸̵̢̛̯̩͖̹̤̱̘͙̦̫̝̯̖͇̝͍͚̀́̕͝j̰͙̮͓͈̘͌̉̓ͥ͛҉̵̨́̀͢͡ů̧̝ͣͤ̂͟͏̨͏̸̵̧̧̡̛̛̀́̕͠͞͡͏̵s̵̴̬̻͙̹͍͇̮̓̐̾͂͐ͫ͋̈̊̃̄̇̃ͩ͝͞ͅṱ̵̷̶̸̡̞̦̝͈̼̳̭͕̆͑ͤ̏ͣ̿̓͟͠͠ ̵̷̸̷̷̵̵̢̡̢̛̜͎̮̯̗̥̭̰̣̯̼̣̼͙̜̤̖̀̌̈ͭ͌́́̕͘̕͜͢͠ͅb̼̳̳̹̮͎̮̹͉͇ͫ̌̔ͥ͌̒̄̉̾̐̓̊͒̌̽̈ͯ͒̾͌ę̷̢̩̭̜͓͍͇̟̰̰ͩͯ̾̎ͪͤ̿ͧ̈͌̿ͮ̿̓̏̀͢g̷̷̵̢̛͇̣̟̲̣̟͍̫ͬͧ̽̎̔́̿̈͌̊̂̔̄͑͆͊̆ͯ́͢͡͞͡͡u̸͔͔̱̹̣̩̱̦̗̜̤̗͙͕͓̮̺ͪͣ̿̈ͭ̂̄ͯ͂̔̎͒͑̇ͯͭ̌ͣ̕͡͠҉̷̶̵̛̛̕͘͜͢͢͏̨̛͞n̵̡̛̠͔̜̙̯͔͎̂̾͑̍̓ͩ͛̔ͬ͗̋̏̄͆̔ͮ́̊̇̾͏.̸̴̨̢̡̪̭̙͇͇͕̩͈̣͔̗̬͎̆͛̓͆ͨ̋̊̓͒̐ͤ̃̓̒͗̀́̀͢͟͞͠͝ͅ҉́͡
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ALIKE // connor rk800 x reader (dbh)
Fanfiction[SLOW UPDATES] in a universe where connor rk800 was built and programmed to work with a partner. meet y/n, an rj800 model that was to work hand in hand with connor.
