ontherun-writing - Tumblr blog

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

[compliments (3/4) - doubts] RK800/Reader

A/N: Because I have no self-control, I wrote WAY too much for one tumblr post, so I had to split this chapter into two. It took a long time to post this, but I still hope ya’ll enjoy it. Will probably post the next chapter when my betas come home from labor day weekend.

Unbeta-ed (but not for long). We die like men.

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: In which you’re just as good as loving Connor back, and he doesn’t know how his feelings could run so deep.

Word Count: 5k+

Connor never considered himself in need of protection. He was strong, built to last, fast, and completely capable of fighting his own battles.

Then again, so were you, of a different caliber.

On the way home from dinner, or rather, a long walk that you happened to grab food at a hot-dog stand at, you ran into an acquaintance of yours that you had met the first year of college. “Oh, hey, nice seeing you here,” you said warmly, even though the way you leaned on Connor told him you were tired. The friend obviously agreed with your sentiment, pulling you in for a hug that you returned politely. She glanced up at Connor, eyes flickering toward his LED light ever so often, making Connor strangely conscious of its presence for the first time in a while.

“Right, uh,” you said, laughing nervously. “This is Connor. He’s,” he saw you glance at him shyly, “my boyfriend,” you said with a concealed tone of pride. He enjoyed the tight squeeze you gave his hand, causing a flutter in his chest.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, nodding. He tried his best not to seem too pleased at his new title. If you found out how much the word made him react, you would never stop using it around him.

“Yeah, okay, hot,” she said, looking Connor up and down appreciatively, not even bothering to hide her predatory gaze. Connor was taken aback with a feeling he knew to be discomfort lingering low. She glanced toward you who quickly gave her a quick, flash of teeth even though Connor knew that was not your real smile. “Sex bot?”

Connor vaguely realized that the girl’s remark was meant to be offensive. After all, society tended to view sexual workers (of both genders for humans and androids especially) as taboo or even scandalously terrible. (You did not feel the same. “I respect that,” you said to him one time when you had driven by the Eden Club, newly remodeled and with willing participants. “They’re trying to make a living.”) In addition to the tone of voice that reeked superiority and ridicule, it was obvious that the girl meant to degrade him by suggesting that he was an object, something less-than, a toy.

He surely had his share of insults thrown at him, but this was a new form of it.

It took you a second longer than Connor would have expected for you to process her words. Your mouth dropped as you stared for a moment, shell-shocked. When it seemed that the rather ill-mannered comment sank in, you quickly glanced towards Connor as if to gauge his reaction before turning attention to the girl. Belatedly, he realized that you were probably watching his LED and his expression to see if he was hurt or alarmed by the comment before responding appropriately. (He had a feeling that the outcome would have been explosively more violent if he had shown any sign of distress.)

“That’s my boyfriend,” you said miffed, as your acquaintance looked at you patronizingly. Still, rather than notice the girl’s gaze, Connor looked down when you tightened the grip on his hand. It was strangely comforting.

“An android?” The girl laughed, making you set your expression and narrow your eyes. “What, did you feel sorry for it and starting dating it so you wouldn’t feel bad fucking it--”

Connor barely understood the context when you reacted.

“Excuse me?”

Connor snapped his attention toward you immediately when your voice rose alarmingly quickly with indignation. In a moment, you pulled Connor behind you protectively as you stepped closer to your acquaintance, chin up in, most likely, an instinctive form of aggression. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,” you spoke to her vehemently. Connor had never heard you use that tone; it was a contained anger, a dangerous one-- a tone that held a warning.

The girl didn’t seem fazed, or she hid it well since it was an 90% chance she just as surprised as Connor to see you anything but mild-tempered. “Well, yeah, sure,” she said, scoffing. She was nervous, read from her rising heart rate, but it didn’t seem like she knew she should stop. “You could call it that if you want but that’s all it’s really good for--”

The sharp laugh that Connor heard from you alarmed him, and he turned toward you as you raised your hand to cut her off.“His name is Connor,” you snapped back, making the girl flinch back in response. You didn’t seem to care. “You have no right to speak about him like that, and I’m not going to stand here,” your voice cut sharply as your anger crescendoed, “while you disrespect him like this.”

When there was no immediately response from the girl, as she was probably too shocked by your reply to even react, you fumed and hooked your arms with Connor’s before leading him away where lamps lit the sidewalks. All the while, you stewed in your anger, holding onto his arm like you were ready to fight anyone who stopped you. And all Connor could do was follow you, dazed at the flurry of emotions that he felt from watching you.

The instant you dragged him at least a block away from the restaurant, you sighed and stopped underneath a lamppost. You rubbed the back of your neck and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and out to calm yourself. Connor waited patiently for you to take a breather, placing a gentle hand on your back. “Sorry,” you said finally. “I can’t believe she said those things.”

“It’s no problem,” Connor said. You still looked up at him guilty, expression apologetic. “I was just… surprised.” He had hoped his response was sufficient to clear away the concern etched onto your face, but it seemed his calculations were off. He looked away, turning his head to the side so his LED was hidden, not that you weren’t quick enough to note his yellow LED.

“Are… you sure?” You asked, gently pressing. “I want to know how you feel.” You said, holding his hands with yours so he would have to look at you.

“I..” Connor watched as you intently stared at his LED, ready to analyze any change in color that would indicate his mood. When it swirled yellow, Connor spoke again, voice quiet. “I was-- I believe I felt… ‘hurt,’” he said, feeling the strange description roll off his tongue. “I wasn’t physically hurt, but it felt… bad,” he described to the best of his abilities, “when she said it.”

“I knew she was incorrect, but the implications that I was merely a companion for your sexual desires was very…” Connor let his words trail off as he tried to find the emotion. Agitating? Angering? No, it was more muted, less aggressive. “...Very upsetting,” he settled, nodding to himself.

For a moment Connor felt guilt for admitting so, especially when he saw a flare of anger spiked your heart rate momentarily. Quickly, it subsided as if it had never happened, and your response was immediate.

“I’m not about to let anyone say anything like that to you,” you spoke firmly. “You’re so much more than that, and the only reason why she would ever say that is because she refuses to see what’s right in front of her.”

Connor swallowed, finding that it was much harder to do so. It was as if he had a lump in his throat from-- the emotion he was feeling, he supposed. He wasn't used to reacting to things in general; people would tell him he had thick skin, but that was all a result of his justifications and calculations.

And it took him a while, assimilating to human emotion. For better or for worse, he began reacting to more things with his heart rather than his head. Jagged insults and barbed words should never have hurt him, but the more he learned about his humanity, and with it, his mistakes, the more it did.

Connor knew he would never truly be a human. The thought had been persistent ever since you had celebrated your half-year anniversary of your relationship with him. You were full of life, full of emotion and experiences he may not be able to understand because he was still an android at his core. The LED on his made sure he remembered where he came from, and he was equally thankful as he was bitter that it was there.

(Very rarely, he would reconstruct what would have happened if he had been a human from the start. What would change? What wouldn't? And would you still find him that day in the park if he wasn't an android?)

Doubt was an ugly but necessary human emotion he had had the pleasure of meeting with ever so often ever since his deviation. He had experienced it before during those November investigations, but he had a name to it now, not that it made it any better. And lately he had doubts if he was the right choice for you, if there was someone you would rather have instead of an android. Or worse, Connor hoped his LED had not flashed red, if he was just someone you found convenient for use. And even worse, if you truly did care for him, if-- Connor found it difficult to fathom-- you would accept him after all the mistakes he had made in the past.

You didn’t let him doubt for long. Connor looked down at your hands that held his securely and back up to you, only for a second. You looked at him with such raw adoration it made it hard for him to formulate words. “What is she supposed to see exactly?” He asked quietly.

At the innocent question, a smile lifted your lips as if they never encountered the negativity. (It’s at time like these that Connor admires you for always finding ways to clear the clouds, whether it was for yourself or for him.) There was that slight twinkle of mischief in your eyes as you hugged him closely, glancing up at him with your head on his chest. “That I’m obviously in love with you,” you said, your voice dipped in warmth and genuity despite the levity.

You snuggled into his chest, not waiting for his response, or rather, not expecting one from him at all. Perhaps it was why you decided to declare this to him so lightly, just in case it wasn’t the right time or if he couldn’t respond back yet, so it wouldn’t pressure him to say anything but still let you tell him your feelings. It was a good call, considering he could barely process anything besides the fact that he managed to raise his arms to wrap it around you.

If only his thirium pump would stop working overtime for a moment, perhaps he could have replied back, though with a strained voice, that you should know that he was falling in love with you too.

The thoughts of doubt subsided until all that was left was a fuzzy haze of warmth as he focused on the arms around his torso and the head of hair he desperately wanted to lean down and kiss. Still, the nagging feeling of guilt reminded him he still had something left unspoken.

It was at the cusp of spring when Connor was affronted with the startling realization that he was in love with you. No, that wasn’t right. As he tucked away his cell in the back of his pockets after viewing your good morning message (belated one at 11AM, indicating you had just woken up, but to be fair you had stayed up late talking to him), he had to admit to himself that he knew he was in love with you for a long time; he just had to accept it in full.

He just didn’t think it was so hard to do so.

Loving someone made him feel vulnerable. It was a risky move that had a high chance of resulting in something excruciatingly painful if something went awry. Connor didn’t know exactly how it would feel, but he could at least reconstruct a glimpse of the pain heartbreak would give him.

On one late night stake out with Hank, it was a desperate motion that Connor had strained to ask the lieutenant how anyone could let themselves love someone so deeply.

“You gotta have trust, Connor,” Hank said, sighing deeply after a long pause. He leaned back into the car seat, staring outside the window to look for their perp in lieu of looking at Connor in the eyes. “Sometimes you just gotta trust the other person to not hurt you, treat you with care. And sometimes,” Hank sounded tired for reasons Connor knew was not from the long hours, “you love them anyways because it’s worth more to risk it and love them than to not love ‘em at all.”

Hank grunted, shifting in his seat. “I’m not making too much sense, am I?” He grumbled in embarrassment, "I don’t even know why a old fart like me is giving you any advice anyways.”

Watching his LED light swirl yellow in the side mirror, Connor shook his head. “No,” he said gently, “I understand you perfectly well, Lieutenant.”

“Anyways, knowing that you had to go to me for this, it must be serious,” Hank continued, crossing his arms, finally taking his eyes off the unmoving street. “What are you thinking, Connor?”

“I’m thinking…” Connor kept his gaze on his LED light as it continued to spin. “I’m thinking she deserves to know me, all of me.” He peeled his eyes away when flecks of red stained the yellow light. “Even what I’ve done in the past. I’d rather she find out from me than anyone else.”

“She deserves that much,” he said quietly, his voice sounding too loud in his ears in the silent car.

Connor was startled by a firm clasp on his shoulder, and he turned to look at Hank in surprise at the proud expression on his face. “Looks like your mind’s settled,” he said, quipping a smile at Connor’s small nod. Connor followed Hank’s gaze as it trailed outside to the apartment they were scoping out where they both saw a hooded man lock his front door and leave. “And it looks like our stakeout is done,” Hank said, opening the door to the car to chase the man down before he noticed them.

“Thank you for the advice, Hank,” Connor said, looking at Hank before he could climb out of the car.

If Connor had not known any better, he would not have seen the flicker of pleased embarrassment flash over Hank’s expression even as hid it away with a grimace. “You androids and your personal questions,” he groused, unable to hide the smirk even as he shut the door and began to trail the man.

Connor smiled despite knowing that the other man could not see him, eyes crinkling with gratefulness and mirth. “It might just be me, Lieutenant,” he said, pulling his gun from its holster and following his partner to finish the case before the sun could rise.

He had you to visit afterwards, after all.

Having statistics dictate his actions all his life, it was indescribably terrifying for Connor when he could not calculate how well you would take it when he told you about his past. He had never been so stressed to see question marks replace the probabilities of success that would appear when he viewed his possible choices. Granted, the more he got to know you, the better he was at calculating reconstructions.

You loved small, romantic gestures-- like things out of a romantic comedy that you liked watching with Connor on the slow days, even if you never told him. He would always notice your rise in temperature whenever the main character did something similar, so he could speculate that the chance you would like receiving flowers was high, at least an 85%. At the very least, he could do that for you. You tended to take the reigns a lot faster than he could. If Connor calculated a 70% chance of you wanting to hold hands, within the time it took for him to decide to do it or not, you had already sidled up to him and curled your fingers around his in an invitation to do so.

In this case though, no matter how well he knew you, his calculations could never be accurate enough when his feelings were involved. And with you, his feelings were always involved. It was difficult to determine if the probability of success was so high because he truly calculated it or because he simply wanted-- hoped it to be successful.

Connor called out your name from the dining table as you washed the dishes. When you hummed in response and turned your head to look at him, the words that he had prepared in advance were lost to him.

Now that he was here with you, who was ready to listen, ready to hear about things he still had a hard time trying to forgive himself, it all felt too much. He hadn't given himself too much time to mull over the details, if he was being honest. With Markus’ revolutionary changes and the governmental additions that was slow in coming but steadily so, Connor barely had time to breathe with adjusting to his new life as a newly instated person while trying to help others adjust to the changes as well. Bringing this up with you was like finally looking at the wound that he had left alone, festering, badly covered up with a band aid.

Of all the ways he could relate to Hank, Connor wished it wasn't about an unresolved past.

“Connor?” You asked, your voice jerking him out of his running thoughts. You wiped your hands on a towel before looking at Connor with concern. “You okay? Do you need to talk about something?”

Connor nodded sharply, not trusting his voice module at the moment to continue steadily, and he watched with bated breath as you took a seat next to him and automatically reached for his hand that was fisted on his legs. “I just--” He mind felt muddled with too many details and too many decisions laid out. He gripped your hand tightly. “I’m-- I’m not sure where to start,” he admitted.

Your voice came to him soothingly, like a chorus of wind chimes on a cool, spring morning. “Okay,” you said, brushing your thumb on the back of his hand. “Take your time, Con. There’s no rush.” Even with your best efforts, he still noticed your discrete glances at his LED, which was probably flecked with bits of red.

“Okay,” he repeated, voice pinched as he heaved a deep breath in, trying to cool himself down. Connor frantically flicked away notifications about his rising temperature and shut down the thoughts and numbers than ran through his head.

Percentage of diverting the conversation… 40%

Percentage of conversation happening in the future at an inopportune time as a result… 70% and rising.

No. Connor immediately glanced away from your apartment door to delete that option. He wasn’t going to give himself a chance to run away. Not anymore. He glanced up at you who continued to look at him with patience, though with growing concern.

Percentage of worrying you if he stops the conversation here… 100%

If Connor had the right of mind to roll his eyes at himself, he would. That statistic was useless as it stood because it was a given. Of course you’d be concerned for him if he stopped talking. He was a mess, trying to clean up after himself while trying to just a leap at the conversation that had been gnawing on his mind for the longest time---

Percentage of successful communication… ???

He just-- he just had to--

Percentage of continued relationship after communication… ???

Connor swallowed hard, vision growing blurry on the sides as the probability stats popped up in his center view, large and white and unbearably successful in making him afraid. His fingers felt numb.

Percentage of acceptance… ???

Percentage of success… ???

Percentage of success…

Percentage of su

Percenta

Perce

“--nnor? Connor. Connor, can you hear me?” He felt your hands, cup his face as your visage came into view, letting his mind turn his attention to you instead. “Hey,” you said softly, pressing your forehead against his as you closed your eyes, letting him follow after you. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. You’re going to be okay,” you said.

Connor let out a breath, releasing the heat he was holding in his body. He listened to your voice, followed it and let it lead him back. “I never wanted for you to know, but you deserve to,” he said, his eyes clenched closed, letting the dark hide the numbers and focusing on his breathing and your voice. “What I was like before,” he continued, “what I did before I become deviant.”

You stayed quiet for a moment. “Okay,” you said. “You can tell me. I’m here.”

It was now or never.

“I hunted down deviants.” Connor grasped at the hands that held his head steady. “I was made by Cyberlife with one task: to hunt down deviants and made sure they were properly dealt with.” Ah, he hadn't expected his tone to be so… bitter. “I captured my own people, terrorized them into telling me the truth that would get them killed… and I hurt so many people.” He hung his head low, but he continued when he felt your hands follow him with every movement-- constant, consistent, calming. “I hurt Hank,” he told you weakly. “I involved so many people in my desperation to complete my mission that when I did become deviant, I didn’t even hesitate when I had to kill people to complete the revolution.”

How would he look at you now? He was touching you with blood of both red and blue on his hands, tainted with the sins he had accumulated from his ignorance and denials of deviancy while he was still trying to pretend like he was nothing more than a machine. Connor was afraid then, he could see it; and he was afraid now. He wanted no excuses for himself yet he still wished you would allow him to plead that he did not know any better, that he had to.

“Oh, Connor…” Connor raised his head, only noticing the tears that had fallen when your thumb brushed over his cheeks to wipe them away. Connor didn’t know what he expected. He had stopped trying to reconstruct your reactions for a while. He didn’t expect to see a tender expression, eyes filled with sympathy and love (still) as you stroked his cheeks.

“You must have been so… scared,” you said, pained. “You had so much riding on you to complete your mission, and every deviant you had to encounter must have reminded you how much you had to lose if you failed--- if you just be who you were.” His eyes widened when he saw tears well up in your eyes. “I can’t imagine how it must feel.”

“You're safe now,” you said, even as he stared at you dazedly. (The words ‘I love you’ chanted in his core like a rhythmic heartbeat.) You took one of his hands, his right hand, the dominant one, the one that shot those deviants, and gave it a gentle kiss. “No one is going to hurt you anymore. You're okay.”

“You're not--” His lips quivered. “Are you--”

You hugged him close, touch gentle and voice soft. “Who you were before-- what you did in the past,” he heard your voice falter, “if you feel so much remorse over it, then I already know you're not the same person.” You tightened your grip on him. “I don't want to judge you based on your mistakes then; I want to love the person I know now.”

Connor slowly felt his tense shoulders relax in your embrace, and he wrapped his arms around you. He focused on the way your hands held onto him like a lifeline or the smell of your shampoo-- creamy yet floral-- as he buried his nose into your shoulder and simply breathed you in.

When Connor woke himself up from stasis the next morning on the couch with you on his shoulders and your roommates clamoring to pretend as if they hadn’t taken pictures of you drooling on him, he didn't mind. He was content on letting you sleep, brushing your hair away from your face ever so often. He saw the familiar notification-- enormous, white, important-- pop up, but he closed his eyes. He didn't need to see the statistics when he already knew it was unquestionable that he loved you.

The two of you were undeniably domestic then after, sickening so, it was reported. It was a second honeymoon phase they said, as if that phase had ever ended for them in the first place. Connor felt like he loved you the more time passed.

You would come over to Connor’s place often. It wasn’t that your roommates weren’t welcoming, but it was difficult finding a private place when you had three friends who were side-eyeing you to see if you were going to start making out with the android or not. Granted, they were Connor’s biggest fans, in a way, since they were one of many that encouraged the development of your relationship with Connor. It was almost like they wanted to make sure the two of you were happy and that you stayed that way.

“They said we’re their ‘OTP,’” you had said, chuckling as you locked the apartment door behind you. “‘One true pairing,’” you explained. “Sort of like... “ You hummed in thought as you hooked your arm with his, walking down the hall. “Sort of like the couple they’re rooting for.”

“I see…” Connor nodded, and you giggled, having looked at the yellow of his LED as he processed the information.

You would have never felt comfortable coming over to Connor’s so often if you were not so welcomed by Hank and Sumo, who would never fail to run up to you as you gave him the best belly rubs you could manage.

“Who's a good boy?” You would coo unfailingly the moment you stepped in the door and spotted Sumo. Sumo would unfailingly pant, wag his tail and roll into his back, and your indulgent affection were what made him so spoiled every time you came over. “Aww, you're such a good boy!”

Connor chuckled, placing both of your jackets on the coat hanger one by one. He turned around, momentarily surprised to see you close, beaming up at him with hopeful eyes. He indulged you and leaned down to give you a peck on the lips.

“Good boy,” you said, patting him on the stomach. At your feet, Sumo barked indignantly, feeling cheated out of a rigorous scratching, and it only made you burst into laughter.

Connor was quick to wrap his arms around you before you could escape from him, and your laughter only grew. “I better hope so,” he said teasingly, playfully blowing a raspberry on back of your neck. “I have a reputation to uphold as a police officer.”

Amidst the snickering, someone cleared his throat, and like a person caught red handed, you literally leaped out of Connor's grasps and turned around with a sheepish smile. “Hi, Hank,” you said apologetically.

“Good evening, Hank,” Connor greeted, more at ease, and more amused than he would admit to see Hank with a mixture of exasperation and hidden humor.

“Can't I have one day I don't see you two foolin’ around?” Connor could only let out a small laugh as Hank grumbled, and continued to do so when you sheepishly apologized again.

“How about I cook tonight,” Connor said, rolling up his sleeves. “You two can relax for a little while.”

When there were two easy chimes of agreement, Connor paused as he stood by the fridge, taking a moment to look back at the two of you as Hank clasped his hand on his shoulder and led you to the couch.

For the first time in a while, Connor was glad he was an android with enhanced hearing. Unable to contain his curiosity, he listened in as his hands worked, dicing the onions and garlic.

“--I've been pretty good: college has been treating me alright. How about you, Hank?”

“S'fine on my end too. Definitely been picking it up since last year since I have someone here who won't stop bugging me about health.”

Quickly, Connor turned his full attention to the scallions he was cutting, oddly feeling that he was being referred to directly. He did hear you laugh, which was accompanied by a low chuckle from Hank, and couldn't help but smile despite it all. He wouldn't put it past Hank to know that he was listening in though, so it may be best to give the two privacy. But as he started the stove a minutes later, he couldn't help picking up a few more words.

“...I think you know the drill here.”

“I think so too.”

Connor paused with the spatula in his hand.

“I probably don’t have to say this but… if you hurt Connor…”

Connor felt his blood pump through his head, a happy feeling bubbling in his chest. He had watched enough movies to know what Hank intended to do. After seeing that scene over and over again, repeated throughout movies, Connor never anticipated that he would be the one in that situation. He certainly didn’t need protecting, didn’t need anyone vouching for him in case he ever got hurt, but you did anyways. Hank did anyways. The thought of that made him warm, like the time the three of them, Hank, Connor and Sumo had an outing at a dog park, or like the quiet evenings after dinner when he had Sumo on his feet and Hank by his side on the couch watching old movies. Or like the sleepy mornings that had you waking up in his arms, eyes a flutter and arms snuggled around him.

(Connor felt an unfamiliar lump at the back of his throat as he sauteed the vegetables, unsure why his body was reacting in a way that told him he wanted to cry.)

Your response was immediate.

“I would never hurt him.”

Connor felt his heart wrench at the firmness in your tone--- the surety, the resolve in your words. And he had to focus on the cooking at hand before it began to burn as he blinked away the wetness that had begun to blur his vision.

However that conversation had ended, Connor paid no attention to. By the time he was done setting up the table and went to call up the other two, you and Hank were already talking about sports.

If Connor was a little sappy later on, serving the food with a smile he couldn't keep down or giving you butterfly kisses every time you stood alone, the two of them made no comment. Still, before he drove you home, he gave Hank a quiet thank you. Hank simply stared at him for a moment before putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and chuckling. “Don’t mention it, kid,” he replied. “And tell your girlfriend she’s always welcome to stop by. Sumo needs someone to play with him sometimes.”

On the way back home, you held his hand the entire time, a thoughtful look in your eyes. When Connor tilted his head, you had only laughed and shook your head.

“I was just thinking,” you said, staring down at your entwined hands, “your family's pretty great.”

“Yeah,” Connor replied, feeling breathless as a swell of affection and pride lifted his spirits up. Keeping his eyes on the road, he lifted your hand to kiss it. He glanced at you and smiled. “I think so too.”

#rk800 #rk800/reader #dbh #detroit become human #compliments

2 notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

*slaps google drive* this bad boy can hold so many half-finished fics in it

30K notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

[compliments (2/4) - insecure] RK800/Reader

A/N: This part was inspired by @blobbyclouds HC of a chubby!s/o with Connor a while back!! Yeah it took me this long to get to this point but here you go!

I relate to this a lot!! insecure reader and cute Connor who just wants to know he loves you! just a slight warning of a little angst at the end bc some insults thrown at ya so be forewarned?? but its ok bc I gotta get me a happy ending

Part 1

Summary: Connor is surprisingly good at giving honest compliments and possibly even better at loving you.

Word Count: 7.5k+

Deviant, Connor was still an android at his core, so he relied on observation, data, and analysis to deal with the world around him. Humans were amazing in that way, with their ability to adapt to whatever was thrown at them, even if it was new. Nonetheless, Connor was used to using his eyes to take in his surroundings, process them, then arrive to a conclusion that would better help his understanding of the situation.

Feelings were still something new to him. It was odd to feel something in his heart when he had no heart, to be able to imitate human-like reactions to emotions like happiness or embarrassment. To this day, he was still discovering new emotions at a alarmingly rapid pace ever since he deviated. Guilt and fear were only two he felt deeply when he saw Hank being held hostage by his later model. It was a terrible feeling; a heavy drop in his chest and his core temperature as his mind went into overdrive in desperation of deciding between the revolution or saving Hank. He was lucky he didn’t have to choose between the two.

On a better note, Connor had learned a lot about happiness and a lot about family. With Hank by his side guiding him to the best of his abilities (though he continuously denied that he was anything near a good role-model), he had grown into his new position as a police officer and took pride in his work as they protected Detroit from crime.

When he met you, he learned a few more. The first most noticeable one was giddiness, a hybrid between nervousness and excitement that felt similar to restlessness but with a happier anticipation. It felt almost ticklish, if Connor could describe it in that manner, and he felt it every time he saw your name show up when you called him and whenever he waited for you to show up ten minutes early (as per usual) on a date.

Another one was bashfulness. It was a cousin of embarrassment, the way it made his core temperature heat up and his cheeks burn. Connor felt it every time you praised him in anything he did, mainly because every time you did compliment him, it was always with the most heartfelt manner. Whether you were gushing over his newfound skills or pressed in awe over his abilities to investigate, he knew you meant every word, every praise-- which was why it he always felt so shy whenever you did compliment him. He knew it well that his skills could be deemed as impressive, but it was different when you noticed; it filled him with a sense of pride.

The first time you visited the precinct was the first time you had ever stepped into a police department and met Hank. It was a lot in one day, Connor thought in amusement as he watched you extend a hand to Hank in greeting with a slight hiccup in your speech.

You would usually never get nervous at meeting new people, assuming you had never met Hank in your life, but you had shown previous concerns about introducing yourself to the lieutenant. “Well, it’s like,” you said, gesturing with your hands animatedly as you struggled to explain to him. “He’s like… your dad, isn’t he?” He looked at the posters you put on the wall, a show of love for your favorite shows, as you thought of the words you wanted to say. “Isn’t meeting the family sorta a ‘big’ thing,” you emphasized.

From the corner of his eye, Connor saw you sit up from the couch. Before you could reach out to grab a can of soda off of your living room table, he quickly walked over and took it before you. You pouted, retracting your hand as he raised a brow in question. You had asked him to stop you every time you tried to eat something unhealthy, and now you’re not too sure if that was a good plan. Still, he wanted to do you right; he did think that you shouldn’t drink something that was twice the amount of sugar someone should consume a day.

“I’m not sure Hank sees me in that way,” Connor said, smiling when you gave him a pointed look. “But I suppose that we do have that sort of relationship. I do enjoy living with him and being a part of his life, and, while rare, I am mistaken as his son when they can’t see my LED.” He turned his head to show the blue halo on the right of his forehead.

“As for meeting the family... I’m not completely sure,” Connor said, placing the can of soda on top of the fridge that you wouldn't be able to reach unless you grabbed a step ladder. (Which, you would not; he would catch you later climbing the counter to reach for it an hour later.) He turned back to you as he searched up the importance of meeting a significant other’s parents. “I believe the implications of meeting with one’s parents varies across cultures,” he concluded as you scooted aside and patted the place next to you on the couch.

“I think it’s a big thing,” you confirmed, nodding. You leaned back in cushion and lifted your leg until they rested on his thighs. You hummed, content, when he began rubbing circles on your calves. “It says that you’re serious about the relationship,” you said, “like you intend for your partner to stay a long time. That they’re going to be a permanent fixture.”

Connor felt a unwelcome feeling suddenly stop his movement as his thoughts ran through his mind. Fear always had a powerful control on him, even after all this time, even if he hadn’t needed to be afraid if someone could die. “Was... there a chance that you would want this relationship only temporarily?” He asked, unsure why he had never fathomed that that could have been an option, that this relationship had a time limit. You were a college student, he would not have put it past you if you had to leave him to pursue your career, and he would not have stopped you if you decided to do so. Or if you decided to leave him for someone else. Someone human.

You didn’t give him a chance to even linger on that thought. “No,” you said easily. “Never.” You swung your legs around, and Connor hadn’t even realized that he had been holding onto your ankle possessively. The feeling of your head on his thighs surprised him, and he knew you could tell because you giggled, finding his hand to hold as you teased him.

“I don’t go into relationship thinking they’ll end,” you said, equally light-hearted as you were serious. “I want them to last.” You looked up at him as you placed your joined hands on your chest where he could feel your heart beat steadily. “I want this relationship with you to last.”

He didn’t tell you how relieved that made him feel, the heaviness in his abdomen immediately lifting. He only chose to caress your cheek as gently as he could, and when you turned your face around and snugly found a place in his lap to take a quick shut-eye, he rubbed soothing circles on your shoulders until you relaxed.

In conclusion: there was no reason you should be worried when you met Hank.

Still, when Connor went back home that night, he asked Hank, just to make sure.

“Why are you asking me this?” Hank asked, blanching at the plate of vegetables that was presented to him. “And do you have to make brussel sprouts?”

“She presented some concerns that you would not find her favorable since she is now in a romantic relationship with me. I wish to assuage her concerns,” Connor said, pouring dog food into the bowl for Sumo. He paused. “And… I suppose, mines too.”

“Connor, if she’s as amazing as you say, and if she cares for you as much as you,” Hank shrugged, stabbing a sprout with a fork. He grimaced at the vegetable before putting it into his mouth, chewing tentatively before finding that the garlic stirfry made it not-as-bad. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t like her,” he said.

Connor found that sentiment extremely comforting, and he said so to Hank who made a face and waved him away, even though Connor knew too well that he was just embarrassed.

“And,” Connor added lastly, “I suppose this particular selection of vegetables was not necessary, but the consumption of them is.” He turned around to hide his smile before Hank’s glare could reach him.

At the precinct, Hank obviously found it funny that you were so nervous, and Connor could see clearly that he chose between two decisions: to calm you down by initiating small talk or to tease you by talking about your relationship with Connor. Based off the redness of your face, it was likely Hank chose the latter option.

The only reason why Hank was able to tease you in the first place was probably his fault. Connor had told him that you intended to visit, among other things. (“I believe she can eat faster than you, Hank” or “She once told me her preference for older men. Does that mean she would prefer you over me?” were some of the details he shared to Hank, giving Hank the ammo and the description of your personality that he needed to tease you. Connor was to blame, but to be fair, Connor hadn’t meant for you to take the brunt of the damage; it was just hard to stop talking about you when he started.)

Besides, you looked cute when you were embarrassed.

“Hank, as much as I appreciate the fact that you approve of my partner,” Connor began, suppressing the urge to laugh when you sputtered at his comment, “I am growing concerned that the longer her temperature remains at this level, she may faint,” he said, unable to hide the smile that grew wider. “Though,” he continued, giving you a flirtatious wink, “if you do, I’ll be sure to catch you in my arms.”

The way you hid your face behind your hands and the appreciative “ha!” he got from Hank made Connor feel lighter than air.

You loved food. If food was a person, Connor felt that he would finally know what jealousy felt like. While it wasn’t mandatory, your love of food came with a love of cooking, and he had picked up on cooking because you liked to. It became an easy way for him to spend time with you at home since he didn’t need to eat, sleep, or drink like you did.

Cooking was a matter of following instructions, which Connor was good at, to an extent; his programming never really disappeared, he only made it his own. But you made cooking into an experiment, putting thai peppers in a stir-fry dish because you liked spices in your dish or more butter than necessary because it “tasted better this way.” Sometimes, you didn’t know if it would taste better than not, but you push the mushrooms in the pot anyway, snickering whenever Connor looked at you in confusion at your impromptu decisions.

So Connor learned. He couldn’t eat, but he could at least recognize the pattern in your tastes and ever so often, taste the food himself. You liked food with a strong flavor, but when it came to pasta, subtle flavors were preferred. With information like this, it became habit for him to offer himself to cook for you.

“I can do it,” Connor insisted when you looked at him with amusement. “You won’t have to eat it if you deem it unsatisfactory.”

“No, I just feel like you work enough, so you shouldn’t have to cook for me,” you said. “But if you really want to, I won’t stop you. I’ll eat whatever you cook for me, Connor.”

It was a shame he was such a good chef (catered to your tastes), because you found it hard to refuse him whenever he offered to cook.

“You shouldn’t spoil me too much with this,” you joked, “or else I’ll get fatter and I’ll never fit into these pants again.”

It took a moment for Connor to process your words. He tilted his head, as he always did when he was perplexed (you found it cute). “You would have to consume a very large amount of food for you to be unable to fit in your current clothing,” he said, pausing. “Also, I do not spoil you, I’m only giving you what you deserve, after all. In addition, your modest and core value of resilience makes you incapable of being spoiled.”

Connor liked the way you gushed over him. You did it with a mix of adoration and embarrassment whenever he complimented you (but he was really just telling you the truth?). Still, he didn’t understand why you felt the need to say such things; you never were the type to exaggerate. Connor understood the necessity of moderation and healthy eating, as Hank was keen to grouch to him that Connor knew too well whenever the android forced a plate of vegetables in front of him. But you didn’t have problems with eating a salad or two, or cooking your own meals so that you had a balanced diet, so why did he sense an undertone of self-deprecation that Hank ever so often adopted?

Before he could call your attention to this, Connor’s thoughts were interrupted by your noise of delight when you tasted the glazed chicken that he had prepared. And he was distracted, as he usually was whenever you were near him, and the topic didn’t seem to be relevant anymore, not with the way you joyfully ate his food and told humorous stories about your week at college. You were happy, so he was too.

But the problem was, it was relevant.

Connor sat in the family living room, having been let into the shared apartment by your roommate who told you that you were in the restroom. He thanked her before walking toward the room at the end of the hall and knocking. Slightly concerned that you were not responding, Connor knocked again, calling your name. When this garnered no action, he softly apologized for intruding as he opened the door to make sure you were okay. And you were, standing in front of the mirror, fixated on your reflection to the point you hadn’t heard him come in at all. You were wearing a new outfit today: a black and white spaghetti strap romper that ended at your upper thighs. Connor lingered appreciatively at how the clothes complemented your voluptuous behind and defined proportions that gave you an hourglass shape before he cleared his throat loudly just enough to get your attention.

“Oh, Connor!” You said in surprise, quickly pulling at your romper shorts. “I didn’t hear you! Did my roommate let you in?”

“She did.” Connor nodded, before giving you a soft smile, taking your hands away from your romper. You held your breath in stuttered awe as he leaned in and kissed your forehead lovingly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the sudden affection that he initiated. “I realize this is a new outfit,” he said, glancing down to make a point. “It greatly enhances your best physical features.”

“Wait, really?” You asked, a tone of genuine surprise, making Connor blink in confusion. You twisted around, trying to take a look at your backside in the mirror with concern. “I just-- I don’t know,” you said, growing increasingly frustrated. “Are you sure it looks okay? I usually don’t wear these things so I don’t know if it looks good or not. It might make me look, uh, you know…”

Connor wasn’t sure what you were going to finish the sentence with but he thought that uncertainty didn’t suit you.

You looked back at him, distracted as he took your hand in yours and kissed it. “If you feel more comfortable in something else, then don’t feel the need to wear it,” he said, “but if you want to wear it, then I don’t see why you can’t.” He paused, continuing hesitantly as if nervous, “And if it counts for anything, I think you look great.”

The blush on your face told him your mood was lifting. “Thanks for telling me that,” you said, leaning in for a hug that he gladly returned. You looked back at your reflection, back straight with confidence before turning to him with a wide grin. “To be honest, I wanted to look good for you,” you said, grinning cheekily as of doubt was never there in the first place. “Can’t be walking around with you if I don’t look just as hot, hun.”

Connor felt himself short-circuit, as he always did when you flirted with him. “I-- For me?” He stammered, making you laugh and hug him again in endearment.

“Why wouldn’t I want to look good for you?” You said, “I have you now, so of course I’d want to impress you.” You winked. “Seducing you is my only job now.”

He knew you were flattering him, if the heated thirium pump was anything to go by, but still-- “Why would you need to seduce me when you’re the only one I would ever look at?” He asked honestly, not quite understanding why (he’ll get there eventually) you gave him a wobbly smile and buried your face into his chest when he said that. Nonetheless, he wrapped his arms around you, feeling oddly happy when you playfully began to sway, giggling all the while as you ‘danced’ with him in the small bathroom.

(Eventually someone else would need to use the restroom, but until then, you had your moment.)

Aesthetics were a social construct, to an extent.

Connor could tell when someone was attractive, or more specifically, when a person had the features of an attractive person that society tended to favor. He had an appreciation for beauty, but he didn’t have the same ‘tastes’ as the general public. Exhibit One: the young, female brunette with astonishingly blue eyes and the height of a model that came into the police station to write her statement as a witness in the latest robbery. It wasn’t in Connor’s jurisdiction, so he had no inside information about her case or her profile, but based off the looks that Gavin and the rest of the precinct was giving her, she was extremely beautiful.

“Ooh, wow,” you commented in surprise, watching as the witness walked by their desk with a friendly smile. “She’s really pretty,” you said, eyes following her with everyone else.

Connor let a small smile lift his lips. He liked the way you were appreciative of beauty, no matter the gender. The territory came with being honest: you said it how you see it.

Your gaze lingered. He walked up to you and tapped you on the shoulder. “You alright there?”

“Oh, nothing,” you replied, slightly distracted. “She’s just-- she’s really pretty, isn't she.”

Connor took note of a lot of things, and recently he had been cataloguing every smile and frown and every pout you had because you were such an expressive person that there seemed to be a face for every emotion you had. This one though, when you had this far-away look to your eyes that made your face void of emotion even as your voice held a disguised tone of uncomfortable admiration, he hadn’t seen yet. But the look made him feel uneasy, similar to the feeling whenever Hank used to make off-hand jokes about mortality. Connor didn’t like it.

“Yes,” Connor said, acknowledging the longing glances than many officers had given her and the commonly attractive symmetry of her face, “but your aesthetics are much more appealing to me.” He took a step closer to you, bringing his hands from behind his back. “You have warmer presence, your speaking cadence is much livelier, and you have a spring in your step,” he told you. “Like a song,” he said. “Your song.”

You let out a laugh. “That’s pretty poetic,” you said teasingly, nudging him playfully. Connor silently felt pleased at accomplishing his mission of distracting you. “Are you talking about the music I showed to you earlier?” You asked, giving him a budding smile. You had gotten into the habit of sharing more things about you by sending him links and files that you liked. The song you had sent him the other day you had dubbed your all-time favorite (for the next few months anyways). “Did you like it?”

“Yes, I quite liked it,” he responded, allowing you to take a hold of his hand. “It reminded me of you,” he said, liking the way your heart beat jumped a notch at his words. “I like it when things remind me of you,” he admitted, having the gall to make your heart leap when he sounded shy.

You melted, heart full of love that was fit to burst. “If you’re not going to stop doing that cute doe-eye thing right now…” You threatened, looking up at him with a mischievous grin as you played with his tie with a free hand. “I think I’m going to have to flirt with you until you're thirum pump overheats!”

“Well, I’m certainly not adverse to that idea,” Connor replied nonchalantly, though the way he placed his hands on your waist made your breath hitch.

“Oh g-- Would it kill you two to get a room?” When the two of you heard Hank groan in the background, you leapt away from him and nervously pulled at your ponytail, flushed in embarrassment.

Connor could only smile sheepishly as the detective buried his face into his hands. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

If Connor could describe you in one word, as you often asked him in different arrangements, he would call you soft. You were soft-hearted, and it showed in the way you spoke to the elderly and to him. With him, it seemed as if you had an unlimited well of patience. Your unbridled genuinity shined in the way you smiled at people, the happiness always travelling up to your eyes.

“You brighten the room.” You looked at Connor in confusion when you brought Hank a coffee on your rare visit to the station. Connor corrected himself, “That is to say, your presence illuminates your surroundings, or least for me.” He said, sifting through his report, “You're all I can seem to see whenever you walk in.”

Connor looked up when Hank spat out his coffee, thankfully in the trash bin, and then to you who looked barely less than enamored. “Is it something I said?” He asked, watching Hank wipe his mouth in disgust.

“Yeah, it is, lover boy,” Hank scoffed. “It’s the goddamn corny shit you keep spitting out. Do you have to do it every time?”

“I do not intend to be ‘corny’ every time I speak.” Connor lowered his brows in intense confusion. “It is simply what I think.” He looked at you, not knowing how his eyes peered up at you innocently doe-like. “Should I stop?”

“No,” you said, coming around to him, you voice as soft as silk. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and smiled into the kiss you gave him on his cheek. “I like it. You say it how you think.” You grinned, and he returned the smile.

“I suppose that’s something we both in common,” he commented, revelling in the way your soft lips felt.

You giggled. “Maybe you should think about being a poet.”

Hank groaned in the background.

Personality aside, you were also soft literally.

Your hands were small, almost dainty if they weren’t tough from the sports you played when you were in highschool, but still, they felt soft when you cupped his face and played with his cheeks. Out of the benefits that came with becoming deviant, Connor liked his ability to feel. He liked your hugs because they felt nice, comforting. You were soft all over, which was something he was not since he was made to be a deviant hunter, but your body was pliant, and something just felt good being able to press his hands along your curves and hold the thighs you liked to call thick (with two c’s, you reminded him playfully).

You were filled out ‘in all the right places’ he would quote something he saw online, because he didn’t quite understand what that meant, but after observing the curves and dips of your hips, chest, and behind, he felt that he understood quite enough. It was embarrassing for you, to be showered with love for your body, but Connor couldn’t help it. He wasn’t about to get sick of watching his hands sink into your plush (though he did avoid having his hands wander to your behind when you were in public; even he knew it wasn’t The Time).

Even the stretch marks you had on your thighs Connor found fascinating. “I gotta say,” you told him as he eagerly examined your legs after getting your permission, “that has to be one of the weirdest thing someone liked about me.”

“I like every part of you,” he said simply, and you had let him roam his hands across your calves and your thighs before settling them on the curve of your back.

Cuddling was an extremely well-invested activity that both of you enjoyed. You liked his touches, and you felt safe around him, the height difference counting even while the both of you were on the couch since your face would end up snuggled right under his arms like a jigsaw puzzle. Even though you were embarrassed every time he said it, he also enjoyed the feeling of lying on your stomach because, quite honestly, it was the softest thing he has ever felt. “All that fat is hiding my 6-pack,” you joked, though Connor didn’t quite understand since your muscles were indeed underneath. But he also liked being able to feel you laugh, the way your whole trembled in mirth because of something he said.

Cuddling became a sort of ritual that you did before you slept, whether it was in your room, Hank’s couch, or Connor’s somewhat lived-in room that Hank had gave him. Sometimes you would find things to talk about that would last through the night, but other nights it was just the two of you, quiet in front of the TV as you basked in each other’s presence.

It was nice, Connor thought. He glanced down as you slept on top of his body peacefully, mouth slightly open. You had warned him that you had the possibility of drooling, but he didn’t see how that could diminish his feelings for you in his eyes. He carefully lifted his arm from your shoulder and sifted through the blanket that sat on top of the couch (courtesy of Hank) before setting it on your body as well as he could without waking you up. Connor watched the television replay another late-night classic before giving in and looking at you instead, breathing steadily, heartbeat pulsing gently in your chest, before he closed his eyes and imitated sleep, completely content to stay like that with you till the morning.

Connor knew he was lacking in some social nuances. He was learning, but he knew that there was always going to be something that he would fail to notice that was important. However, your insecurity about your appearance was something that was growing more evident the more he fell for you. (Falling for you was also something that scared him, because he didn’t know how far he could go, if there was anything there to catch him, but watching you doubt your worth and your beauty began to pain him enough for him to ignore that fear.)

He would try his best to change your mind subtly, complimenting you on your attire and your overall appearance so that the cloud of insecurity would leave. It would work most of the time, as you were not one to stay down, and because you told him yourself that “being with you already makes me feel good,” so who was he to deny you his company?

You wiped your eyes for the fifth time since the climax of the movie that the two of you just watched, sniffling slightly as you exited the dark theater room. Connor was ready with a napkin at your side when you reached out for it to dab at your eyes. “Sorry, Connor,” you said, “I always get emotional when things like that happen. They’re happy-- and I’m so happy they’re happy, you know?”

Connor nodded sympathetically, though he offered an amused smile as well. “I think you were one of the few people who were driven to tears by other people’s happiness,” he said. “I find that very impressive,” he added, earning a burst of laughter from you.

“Ha! Me, being emotional at every display of sadness or happiness, ‘impressive.’” You snorted, pushing at Connor’s shoulder’s lightly at the teasing. You breathed in deeply, putting on your winter jacket again. “That was a good movie though, I--” You patted at your sides, only to widen your eyes in alarm. “Oh sh-- I forgot my purse in the theater!” You turned around to collect your belongings when Connor stopped you.

“Allow me. I believe the credits may still be rolling, so it may be too dark for you to see,” he explained.

“If you don’t mind,” you replied, and he nodded in affirmation before turning back to the door they exited from.

Connor found your purse exactly where he thought you left it, squished between the seat and the armrest. He took it, walking down the stairs toward the exit. He scanned the theater, looking for you, when he saw you leaning outside on the wall, arms crossed and visibly uncomfortable. He narrowed his eyes when he saw a man make casual gestures towards the parking lot as he extended an uninvited invitation for you.

“C’mon, it’s nice out tonight, come with me!”

An older man approached you with intent to touch you, but you had backed away, putting your hands behind your back defensively. “No! I said,” you said vehemently, glaring, “I’m waiting for my boyfriend. Leave me alone.”

Connor admired your assertiveness, but his adoring thoughts of you were quickly prioritized so that he would think of ways to get that man away from you as quickly as possible.

“No need to play so hard to get, come on--”

“I’m afraid your advances are not appreciated,” he said, stepping in between you and the man smoothly. Connor felt you grasp his arm, hiding most of yourself behind him. “I suggest you leave her alone immediately.”

Connor quickly glanced behind him, taking a quick scan. He was glad to know that your stress level immediately took a dive with his arrival, though he could have told much just from the sight of the relief on your face.

Unfortunately, this did not solve the problem.

The man took a few moments to falter at the interruption and another to glance at the blue LED light at Connor’s head to formulate a response. “An android? Of course your man’s a fucking robot,” the man sneered at you, making you flinch at the accusatory tone. Connor glared at him, but he continued to yell, unaware of the attention he was attracting. “Desperate! Tryin’ to replace a real person with a machine; no real person would actually find you attractive, you fat bitch.”

Connor had his fair share of insults thrown at him (thank you, Gavin). It ranged from things that didn’t make sense (he wasn’t really made out of plastic) to things that would have described him, but had he not changed (he wasn’t a machine anymore, not for a long time). He had learned that insults were, most of the time, misconstrued conceptions or lies that people spewed in order to put others down, so he never took offense to words that were meant to hurt him. The only time where insults did matter were when they were exposing the truth, usually in the form of name-calling.

(Hank doesn’t know why Connor watches those soap-operas, but he does. And whenever the female protagonist called her husband, who had slept with her sister, a “cheating bastard,” Connor could understand why that statement would hurt: it was the ‘ugly truth’ as Hank described it, something about you that you didn’t want others to know about, and it usually involved a person’s past mistakes or flaws.)

The first thing Connor heard was the slight hitch in you breath as you heeded the man’s words. He watched as your fear turned to shame, redness creeping up your neck to your cheeks. He watched you dropped your gaze and hid yourself behind him as if you were flinching away in pain. That was when Connor realized the only reason why you were hurt was because somewhere inside of you, you believed this man.

This man made you think you were ugly.

It took less than three seconds for Connor to register this, and even less than that to push the man yelling profanities at you at the wall roughly and punch the place next to his head where a crack appeared at the impact of Connor’s fist. He could hear you gasp in surprise, and he would apologize for scaring you, but the emotion that had a tight grip on him, anger, had him glaring down at the man who was nothing more than a whimpering mess.

“I would advise you to apologize,” Connor said, voice sharp and cutting. “This isn’t a threat, but if you would like, I can make one right now that’ll be worth your while.”

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay! Jeez, just let me go!”

“Only if she never sees your face again.” Connor stared at the man as he frantically nodded before leaning away, leaving a trail of dust from the damaged wall. Before any of them could think to say anything, the man ran away without looking back.

“Are you alright?” Connor instantly asked when he no longer saw the man in his sights. He quickly scanned your body, checking for internal and external changes, noting only a raised heartbeat and blood pressure from the encounter.

“I’m okay, Connor,” you replied, giving him a smile that looked tired. You sighed. “That guy gave me some hard whiplash.”

Connor raised his brows questioningly. “What do you mean?”

“I-- the comments he made,” you said, the most unsure you sounded since he had met you. You rubbed your arms. “I knew he was trying to flatter me to get into my pants, but I was still surprised he ended it that way.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered what his intentions were,” Connor said firmly. “He should have left you alone the moment you said ‘no’ to him.”

“Yeah, that guy was a dick,” you stated, making him laugh in surprise at your bluntness. You glanced around, noting the people that had been staring and sighed again. “Really wish that wasn’t in a busy place though.” Your voice was bitter. “Didn’t need to be called ugly in front of a crowd.”

Again, you played with your hair, mindlessly untangling the strands. This was the third tic Connor had seen you perform out of nervousness, and it was starting to worry him.

He reconstructed the best ways he could approach his concern, and while he knew you would appreciate a private setting, he also predicted that this conversation had a low probability of occurring if he waited until you got home. You were too good at diverting his attention to something else, something positive with less conflict, and Connor cared too much for you to leave it be any longer.

You looked at him finally when he called out your name. Connor hesitated, and formulated his words carefully, “When you say that, you say it as though you believe that sentiment.” When he read confusion on his face, he repeated, “You say it as though you think you’re unattractive.”

When Connor read your heartbeat skyrocket twenty beats, his eyes widened with yours in shock. He watched you stammer, trying to formulate what he knew was an excuse to mask your negativity.

“I-- It’s,” you began, wringing your hands, “I mean, yeah, I’m not… the best looking person out there.” He saw shame cross your expression again. “I’m fat-- chubby if you want to be nice,” you said, no longer looking into his eyes. He was surprised once again when you continued to say, “I’m sorry, Connor,” like you needed to apologize, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear about the person you’re dating.”

A noise of protest rose from his chest as Connor reached out to grab your hands and squeeze them comfortingly. You looked up at him with wide eyes before turning away.

You were quick to laugh, however, straining your lips into a smile that would have looked genuine if not for the fact you pulled your hands away to grip your shirt tightly. “It’s okay, if anything, if someone punches me, it won’t hurt as bad since I have all this padding.” You joke, “I’m like a human meat shield at this point.”

It hurt. It hurt so much to be hearing you speak like that about yourself especially when he knew you were trying to hide the fact you were hurt too.

Connor let his hand caress your cheeks gently, touching you with the loving delicacy that you deserved because you were more than you thought you were at this moment. When you finally looked up at him, he spoke, voice strained, “You don’t need to act okay for my sake.” He felt his breath stutter from the ache in his chest. He continued desperately, “If I could find the words to tell you how much you’re worth or how much more beautiful you grow the more I see you--”

“No, Connor, I--” He saw your eyes gleam in the light. “If you look at me like that, I’m going to cry.” And right when you finished your sentence, you buried your face in your hands before a sob escaped your lips.

Connor had never felt more lost in his life.

He pulled you close to him, stroking your hair as you quietly cried into his chest. He let out a breath, and if he were human, it would have turned into mist from the cold winter air. People who passed by gave him sympathetic gazes, and it took Connor a quick second to decide to take you to a secluded area so you wouldn’t be at the center of attention. Without forcing you to turn away, he led you to a closed boutique so that you had an opportunity to steady yourself.

‘Empathy is a human emotion.’ Connor could hear Kamski’s words echo in his mind as he felt your breath stutter and saw your wipe your eyes. His chest ached from seeing you cry because all he seemed to be able to do was hold you in his arms tightly.

From his arms, you pulled away slightly, wiping your face with your sleeves and letting out a wet laugh. “Sorry, Connor,” you said, “I don’t know why I started crying.” You paused before letting out another laugh. “Well, I mean, I do.” You wiped at your wet lashes. “I didn’t mean to cry on our night out.”

“It’s quite alright,” Connor said, squeezing your shoulders comfortingly. “You’ve had an emotional night: the movie, that man… If that happened to me, I believe I would cry myself.”

The comment startled a genuine laugh out of you, and you grinned up at him with wet eyes. “Would you now?” You said teasingly, making his heart feel lighter to see your expression clear up. “You’re telling me you have tear ducts too?”

“Yes, if you had turned toward me during the scene when they embraced, you would have seen me shed a tear,” he said, making you look at him curiously, unsure if he was joking. The smile that Connor gave you soon after confirmed it. “If I happen to cry excessively, I might have to get them refilled with salt water at Cyberlife.”

The contained snicker that filled the cool air warmed Connor considerably, not that he needed anything to regulate his temperature. He watched for a moment as you rubbed our hands together in search of friction before he swooped in to hold them in his own. When you glanced up at him, he felt him movements stutter when he saw the unadulterated adoration in your eyes.

“Sometimes,” you said, “I think you could do so much better than me.” You dropped your gaze to your connected hands and rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb. “I know I’m not the best person out there, and sometimes I’m reminded of that every time I look in the mirror or make a mistake that makes you work extra hard.” Connor gripped your hands tightly in support, listening in silence as you told him how you felt.

“But I’m still happy!” You quickly continued, meeting his eyes again with resolve. “I’m really, really happy you still think that I’m,” your cheeks tinged with pink, but Connor wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold, “attractive, even if I’m not slim or tall. That you still like me even with all my flaws.”

“So, I guess, I just wanted to… thank you for accepting me for the person I am.” Your voice dropped as you softly said to him, “You’re the best thing that happened to me.”

It was hard for Connor to understand why he was designed with the ability to breath. But as he stood there, struggling to regulate his circulation as his body went into overdrive, he took a deep breath in and was reminded of its importance. He must have paused for a moment too long as he composed himself because you had started to look at him in concern.

It was strange, how quickly his mind could work yet how slowly it processed. Right when he understood the implications of your words, his memories zoomed back to the beginning to now. How much he had learned, how much you had changed the way he lived life. He was obviously amiss if he had never told you how much you meant to him.

“Over the year, I have analyzed my reactions and my emotions whenever I was with you,” Connor began as you watched him patiently. You were always like this when he switched to a more clinical way of speaking because you knew that was how his mind worked and remembered that he had a heart to accompany his mind. (He loved you for it.) “From the start I had expressed interest in your person, but from then on, it only grew to something more until I stand here, with you.”

“The reason why I call you beautiful is not something that was ingrained in my programming,” Connor said. “I have found that the way I see beauty is not necessarily the way others see it, though I have a feeling, based on the romantic comedies that Hank and you have recommended to me, that I am certainly not alone in my sentiment.”

At the mention of the rom-com marathon, you laughed. “What do you mean, Connor?”

Your breath hitched when he gently tilted his head and smiled at you. “What I mean to say is,” he said, “I have concluded that the reason why I view you as beautiful is not despite the fact you are not slim or tall as you seem to believe, but because it is precisely what makes it you that makes you the most beautiful person I know.”

When tears welled up in your eyes again, he leaned down to kiss them, making you let out a giggle that warmed his chest. “Of course, I have also noted that you have a desire to lower your weight and improve your diet, and I would be more than happy to accommodate to your new adjustment and help you reach your goal.”

“Wow,” you said lightly, though the look you gave him told him your words meant more than you let on. You tugged him closer until you were pressed chest-to-chest and leaned up to give him butterfly kisses on his cheek. “My boyfriend doubling as my coach and my dietician,” you said almost dreamily, making him melt inside. “I’m obviously the lucky one in this relationship.”

Connor chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on your forehead before dipping down to meet your lips. “If it matters,” he said to you lowly, as he looked into your dark, dilated eyes, “my calculations say I’m just as equally lucky.”

#connor/reader #dbh connor #rk800/reader #dbh #detroit become human #fluff #part 2 #compliments

21 notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

“I think I might be in love with you” [Gavin X Reader]

Anon: Hey, maybe some jealous Gavin & Reader?👀

—

A/N: Cool beans I was excited to do this request since I kinda like Gavin HAHA also this has elements of Connor X Reader if that’s okay! Also, I spent far too much time writing this holy shit I’m lowkey impressed with myself.

—

There he was again, that piece of shit. Gavin scowled at his cup of coffee when he noticed how Connor instantly approached you the moment you walked into the department. The android’s entire face lit up when you entered the building, he hands swung idly by his sides as he enthusiastically started talking to you about some dumb thing, probably.

What annoyed Gavin even further was the fact that you responded to the tin can with an equal amount of enthusiasm. You laughed multiple times as the two of you continued chatting while walking towards your desk. You used to do that with Gavin every day until Connor just decided to waltz in and steal you away from him.

Although he always tried to maintain a rough, brooding exterior, Detective Reed wasn’t going to lie to himself. He missed hanging out with you.

A lot.

He missed how you used to tell him lame jokes in order to force a smile out of him; how you’d subconsciously touch his hair whenever you stood behind him to read what was on his monitor while he sat at his desk; how you somehow made the best coffee in the whole damn world.

However, as he watched you and your new bestie chatter incessantly, he knew for a fact that you didn’t miss Gavin at all. For almost two weeks you’d been following Connor around like a lost puppy and vice versa. Thinking about it, Connor probably trailed after you more than you did him but that was beside the point.

Sighing deeply, Gavin picked up his cup to take another swig of coffee only to realise that it was empty. Frustrated, he ungracefully got off his chair before heading over to the break room, cup in hand.

He tried not to let himself think about you anymore but failed miserably; how could he not think about you when everything reminded him of you? Like the cup in his hand that he was about to fill with some shitty coffee that could never taste like yours.

Resisting the urge to punch a wall, Gavin controlled himself as he entered the break room before setting the cup on the counter. Still enraged, he allowed himself a minute to cool off but before he could even take a deep breath, a voice spoke from behind him, causing his body to jerk in surprise.

“It’s too early to get so pissed, kid,” Lieutenant Hank said gruffly, clearly not fully awake yet. Gavin was surprised he was even at work so early. The older man opened the overhead cupboard and dug around before continuing to speak, “what’s on your mind?”

“It’s none of your business,” the detective responded curtly. He pressed some buttons on the coffee machine before it whirled to life as it fulfilled its purpose. Gavin very desperately didn’t want Hank to speak anymore but seeing as the department’s coffee machine was slow as shit, he probably wasn’t going to end the conversation there.

“It’s (Y/N), isn’t it?”

Gavin felt himself freeze for a split second. Was it that obvious?

Hank took his silence as an affirmative. He shut the cupboard after pulling out a small box of cereal. The kind that young children bring to school as a snack. Gavin raised an eyebrow, inquisitive.

The Lieutenant shrugged, “Connor asked for it. He says it’s (Y/N)’s favourite.”

Just at the mention of the stupid android’s name caused a wave of anger to wash over him; and without thinking, Gavin snatched the box out of Hank’s hand. Ignoring his colleague asking him what the actual hell he was doing, the detective stormed to the entrance of the break room. His eyes scanned the room for a split second before they met his target. Jaws clenched in frustration, he flung the small cardboard box at Connor.

—

“— and that’s why I think Yorkshire terriers are, personally, my favourite kind of dog… Second of Sumo, of course. Although, all dogs are pretty amazing in their own ways—“ you nodded subconsciously at what Connor was saying while you worked.

To any stranger, it might’ve seemed that you were completely ignoring him but both of you were aware that you took in every word he said, even as your eyes scanned the document in your hands.

Before you could provide your input on the very important topic, Connor had turned around so swiftly you swore you felt a breeze. He raised his hand and then there was a slight crunching sound as he caught something. You stood up from your chair and looked over his shoulder. Cereal?

“I believe this is for you, (Y/N),” the android said simply before handing to you.

“Thanks, I guess?” You replied, still confused by what just happened. Holding the small box in your hands, you looked over Connor’s shoulder again and saw Gavin. He was practically steaming at the ears as he stood by the entrance of the break room. You offered him a small smile only for him to glare at you in response, causing a sharp ache to shoot through your chest. The last time he regarded you with such intensity was a long time ago, before the two of you became close friends.

You simply watched, wondering what was up, as Gavin sulked back into the break room. The sound of a stack of files being placed on your desk pulled you away from your thoughts, you turned to face the source of the sound. It was Officer Tina Chen, she smiled at you before informing you that Fowler had requested that you go through the documents before archiving them. You thanked her before sitting back down at your desk, all thoughts of Gavin at the back of your mind.

—

Gavin knew you never ate in the break room during lunch so that’s where he stayed. Despite wanting to be alone with he thoughts, he didn’t stop Officer Chen from joining him. She was his good friend, after all. He still found it a bit odd, though, since she usually had lunch with her own little group of friends.

“You seem awfully upset today.” She said out of the blue.

“How observant of you.”

“Don’t sass me, Gavin,” she sighed, “do you wanna rant about it or something?”

While she did want to help out her dear friend let off some steam, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t trying to prove her hypothesis right. It was obvious to everyone that Gavin was overly jealous of Connor and you but Tina wanted nothing but the truth straight from the source.

“No, thanks.”

Not one to give up, she casually glanced around, her eyes just happening to land on you and the department’s beloved android. You were most likely going out for lunch, as you normally did, with Connor by your side.

“Chris says they might be dating, y’know?” Out of the corner of Tina’s eye, she could see Gavin tense up. He didn’t say anything at first, which was kinda disappointing but then he did speak.

“That’s impossible,” he retorted, “(Y/N)’ll never date an android.”

Tina snorted, “says who?”

“Says me. She told me before.”

“Yeah but I’m guessing that was probably before they got so close. I mean, just look at them, they’re not even partners yet Connor practically follows her everywhere.”

“Tin can sounds like he’s being a nuisance,” Gavin practically growled “I would think so, too, but to his credit, he’s really sweet to her.”

“Yeah, right, like an android can be genuinely sweet to anybody.”

Tina gave him the ‘are you kidding me right now?’ look which Gavin pretended not to notice, “have you listened to the way he talks about her? Dude literally knows everything about her at this point.”

“I do, too.”

“Oh, yea? When’s her birthday?”

“April 11.”

She found herself pleasantly surprised, “I’m impressed. You never remember anyone’s birthday.”

Gavin didn’t say anything, instead, he chugged his last mouthful of coffee. He then stared into his empty cup as if he’d just discovered interesting in there. The female detective wasn’t dumb, unfortunately, and quickly caught on. She found herself unable to stop herself from smiling.

“I see how it is,” she teases. When he doesn’t respond, she continues speaking, “if you wanna ask her out, though, you better do it quick. I’d say you have quite a bit of competition.”

“Like hell I do,” he replied simply before walking away, effectively ending the conversation.

—

Before you knew it, your shift had ended. You stood by your tableside and stretched, relishing in the sensation of your stiff joints popping. You waved goodbye to a few of your colleagues as you packed up the last of your belongings.

Noticing that Gavin was still working, you decided to approach him about the incident that occurred earlier in the day.

“Hey, Gavin,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. You felt him tense up quite a bit before he silently shrugged you off. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing.

Slightly annoyed, you forcibly turned his chair to face you, ripping his hands away from his keyboard. He rolled his eyes and snapped, “just leave me the fuck alone, (L/N).”

You felt your heart drop at his words but you didn’t know what to say. Gavin sighed before turning back to his work, not wanting to look at you any more than he had to.

The conversation he had with Officer Chen earlier echoed in his head, he felt like taking her advice but after the asshole-ish way he responded to you, he wasn’t sure if asking you out then was a good plan.

“I…” Your voice was soft, “I’m sorry if I did anything to upset you. I won’t bother you anymore.” You managed to say what you wanted to before your throat started to constrict. You grabbed your bag from your desk and left the building swiftly, leaving behind in the office an upset Gavin, tired Hank and worried yet intrigued Connor.

The android glanced out the department’s large windows wordlessly as his LED turned yellow.

“What’s up, Connor?” Hank asked.

“It’s about to rain soon.”

This caught Gavin’s attention as he recalled the many times you’d forgotten to bring an umbrella to work. It had become such a habit that every time it rained, he’d undoubtedly see you come into work soaking wet.

Connor reached under Hank’s desk to pull out a single closed umbrella. Gavin felt a pang of jealousy in his chest, knowing that the stupid Ken doll was unquestionably going to rush out and be your saviour.

Gavin imagined Connor and you kiss in the rain like a bunch of losers from those cliche romance films. He wanted to scoff at the idea but couldn’t since he knew that deep down, he wanted to do said cliche with you.

“Here,” the voice Gavin hated so much said as the umbrella was shoved into his face. He glared at Connor, he didn’t know whether to be annoyed or confused. “I believe (Y/N) would want you to bring this to her.”

—

You hugged your bag tighter to your body as you walked home. You’d taken the same path so many times that you were on autopilot without even realising since you were so deep in thought.

You couldn’t help but recall the interaction you had with Gavin just moments ago. No matter how much it stung you, you just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why was he so upset with you? What did you do wrong? Why wouldn’t he talk to you about his problems like her normally did— oh.

You stopped walking completely, some passers-by bumped into you and hissed while others didn’t notice you at all. You didn’t care regardless, you knew what was up.

You.

You’d been neglecting him as a friend for so long that you’d turned your friendship with him into a bitter one.

You knew, though, that deep inside you, your relationship with him wasn’t merely a friendship. Before you’d started hanging out with Connor instead of Gavin, you knew you had developed feelings for the latter, you just never acted on them, believing that it was better to just remain friends.

‘But what about now?’ You asked yourself; but before you could think about it, it had started to rain heavily. Instinctively, you ran towards a bus stop to your right and sought shelter there. It was pouring heavily, the sky was of a deep dark colour now as compared to the orange hue it was just minutes before.

You opened your bag and dug around it for a few seconds, your eyes not bothering to look inside, opting instead to just look at your surroundings. People had started to pull out umbrellas, husbands took off their jackets and wrapped their wives in them, children were running around, jumping in puddles. You sighed before pulling your hand out of your bag, you’d forgotten to pack your umbrella again.

You then fished your phone out of your pocket and scrolled through your contacts. Maybe you could call Hank or Connor, they were probably still at work and could give you a drive back. As you scrolled down to the names that started with H, however, you saw his name.

Gavin.

It sent a rush of familiarity through you, recalling the countless times in the past you had sheepishly called him, asking for help whenever you got caught in the rain. He always complained but never not left wherever he was just to walk you home.

Your finger hovered over the contact number; then you continued scrolling. Before you could find Hank’s number though, someone had walked under the bus stop and caught your attention.

“Hey,” Gavin said simply, his eyes avoided yours as if he were ashamed. He closed the umbrella he was holding and held it awkwardly.

“Hi,” your voice was almost too soft to be heard due to the pouring rain and occasional roads of thunder.

“Your android boyfriend told me you might need this,” Gavin held out the umbrella to you. He still didn’t look you in the eye.

“Since when did you do what he told you?”

He scoffed, “look, do you want the umbrella or not?” He tried to look pissed but you knew better, you could see the shadow of a smile on his face. He probably missed talking to you; you missed it, too.

You took it from him. You felt your fingers brush against his, and then a spark shot through your body. For a split second, you thought you’d been struck by lightning.

Once the umbrella was in your possession, Gavin turned around to walk away but you grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

“I’ll walk you back to the office before I go home,” you offered quickly, “the rain is too heavy for you to walk in it without an umbrella.”

He didn’t say anything but didn’t walk away either. So, you swiftly opened the umbrella before he could change his mind and stood close to him, “let’s go.”

—

The walk back was awkward. Neither of you said anything but yet it seemed like there was a lot that had to be said.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, Gavin looked at you in surprise. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend.”

For a few seconds he didn’t respond, the longer he was silent, the more you felt your cheeks warm up in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry for giving you the cold shoulder,” he finally spoke, “and for snapping at you earlier.”

You felt a weight slip off your shoulders as you smiled in relief, “apology accepted… Also,” you decided to add, “Connor isn’t my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“How so?”

Gavin shrugged, “I don’t know, you guys just look like a couple.” His voice sounded strained as if the mere words he spoke were laced with poison.

“Were you jealous?” You asked jokingly, prodding his side gently with your elbow. When he didn’t respond with some snarky comment, however, you knew you were right.

You looked up at Gavin and saw his cheeks turn red, “oh my goodness, you were jealous, weren’t you?”

“What about it?” He mumbled under his breath.

He was right.

What about it?

What did it mean to you?

You didn’t exactly know.

What you did know was that you were happy he didn’t hate you and that it was almost the complete opposite. You felt your heart start to race as you stopped walking, causing Gavin to halt in his tracks, as well. He still refused to look you in the eye.

You held up your free hand to touch his cheek, his stubble made his skin feel rough but you quite liked it that way. You gently turned his head to face you and silently pleaded for him to look at you. You were standing so close to him that you could smell the faint scent of cigarettes mixed with the cologne he always wore.

When Gavin’s eyes finally met yours, you stood on the tip of your toes so that your lips brushed against his. You could feel him smile before his arms wrapped themselves around you firmly, hugging you closer to him. One of his hands reached up to caress your face as he pulled away from the kiss. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the warmth that radiated off of it.

“I think I might be in love with you,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours. You could feel his breath brush against your cheeks.

“I know I’m in love with you.”

#gavin reed/reader #gavin reed #dbh #detroit become human #YES!!!! GIVE THIS MAN SOME LOVE aND PERSONALITY

1K notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Note

THE FLUFF HAS OFFICIALLY KILLED ME AND MY SOUL IS IN HEAVEN NOW so great job dude!

aaaaaaAAAAAAAA IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR YOU SAY THAT!! 😭😭🙏 I’m glad that you like them so much!!! sjjdka idk how to tell ya except things like your comments really make me think that posting my stuff out here is worth it if someone else enjoys it

bless ur soul //smooches

#anon #much love #not writing

0 notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

@audiblehush

#thank you!!!#i love comments u dont have to feed me but just know i appreciate it #if you want this to be more lowkey i will take this down for u no prob fam #audiblehush #yes i see them real quick dont judge me

1 note · View note

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Note

Hi! How do you think Connor would deal with his s/o already having a child?

Connor x ReaderWarnings: NoneA/N: I love kids and can’t wait to have my own someday so this was so much fun to write!!

You don’t ever tell Connor you have a kid, because he already knows within seconds of meeting you. Those scanners come in handy, telling him generic information about you, your child and whatever may have happened to their other parents. He thinks nothing of it at first, and it’s only when he begins to deviate that it becomes a problem.

You having a kid is not the problem. You’re sweet and kind and you love that child more than anything. It’s a part of what draws you to him. He’s just scared you wouldn’t want an android as your partner or husband, let alone the parent of your child.

He gets along with the kid so well. He listens intently to everything they say and lets them teach him things, even if he already knew them. He’s the best babysitter you could ask for, able to sit and put up with the incessant questions and energy that would wear you out. He knows he wants this more than anything when the kid slips up one day and calls him dad. The kid can’t even react to the mistake before they’re pulled into a tight hug, and you’re too mortified to speak, watching your own blood child call the man you not-so-secretly had feelings for dad. The next thing Connor knows, he’s going to Hank for advice and support and reading every parenting book under the sun.

When you finally get together there’s a long discussion. You’ve loved Connor for so, so long but you don’t want to dump so much responsibility on someone only so new to independence. It’s a slow build up that takes a lot of learning, but it’s totally worth it. Taking them both to the park and letting them play together? Finding Connor in sleep mode with your kid curled up on his chest? Having Hank as your bad-influence father-in-law?

It’s hardly the family either of you asked for, but it’s what you both love and need, more than anything in the world.

#cries a lot #dbh connor #not mine #connor/reader #rk800 #kids

260 notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

[compliments (1/4) - poetry] RK800/Reader

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! It was overall just really fluffy and sweet (maybe tooth-rotting) so it was therapeutic almost.

Takes place post-pacifist ending where everyone lives + Connor becomes a police officer at DPD + Gavin with more personality than being an asshole etc + Connor lives w Hank. This will probably be two?? parts; it was supposed to be one but uh lmao.

Comments/Reblogs w tags much appreciated :)) I wanna know what ya’ll think

Part 2

Summary: Upon meeting you, Connor learns that he is surprisingly good at giving honest compliments, among other things.

Word Count: 4k+

The first time Connor met you, you had picked up a stray coin and asked it if it was his. He had been walking Sumo at the park nearby Hank’s apartment in the early afternoon when you passed by him, adjusting the strap on your backpack. He hadn’t expected you to pay any attention to him at all, so it had taken a moment to realize that you were talking to him. You held the quarter in between your thumb and index gently, waiting for his response with polite patience.

Connor did not remember taking out his coin on the duration of the walk, and feeling the pocket of his khaki shorts that Hank kindly gave(forced) him to wear, he knew that the coin was still there. Conclusion: that was not his coin.

Still, he took it anyways, giving you a lopsided smile that he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. It was something about the way you asked him, shyly but with a touch of levity, that made him want to agree with you. Or was it the way your eyes flickered down at his body before meeting his eyes on the way back up.

You were attracted to him, he realized, analyzing the way your pupils dilated ever so slightly and how your temperature increased ever so slightly. His LED light was still attached to the right side of his forehead, so it was evident he was an android. But still, you found him sexually appealing.

Stumbling on his thoughts, Connor thanked you and pocketed the coin, hearing it ‘clink’ with the quarter that he already had in his pockets. Bringing his attention back to the present, he was surprised to see you still standing there, but your attention was already elsewhere, more specifically towards the large Saint Bernard that was wagging its tail furiously in hopes of getting petted. You looked up with him with an undisguised expression of excitement. “Can I pet him?” You asked, and when he nodded, you immediately began to coo at the large dog who was only too happy to oblige to your affectionate belly rubs.

Connor couldn’t help but feel vaguely disappointed. He looked to the side where you had placed your backpack (a student?) and watched as you quickly rolled up your black windbreaker sleeves to vigorously pet the dog.

He had almost missed your question, but could catch enough of your words to know that you were asking if he came here often. “Recently, I have been frequenting this park to walk Sumo,” he said, listening to you echo the dog’s name delightedly. “I have only recently moved to a neighborhood in close proximity to this area, so it’s most likely you would not have seen me prior to this month.”

You agreed, “I think I would notice you and such a cute dog,” you cooed at Sumo before reverting your voice back to its normal tone, “if you came around often before.” You scratched at Sumo’s ears absentmindedly as you looked up at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I never got your name.”

“My name is Connor.” He had learned to leave out the rest of his introduction a while ago. “And yours?”

You responded back with your own name and got to your feet, seemingly satisfied with the amount of dog love you acquired through Sumo. You stuck out your hand and grinned widely, and as Connor shook your hand, you said, “It’s nice to meet you, Connor! I hope I’ll see you around more often!”

Just as casually as you began the conversation, you just as easily said your goodbyes. You waved eagerly, and he imitated the action but with less robustness. He watched you walk away until Sumo tugged at the leash, finally impatient enough to want to continue down the sidewalk. With a last glance at your retreating figure, Connor apologized to Sumo about the delay before following the dog on its mission to find a squirrel. He could only hope he would meet you again.

And he did the very next day.

“Connor! Hey!” You called for him, waving at him exuberantly. Connor had just exited the donut shop with an entire box of assorted ones for the police force when he heard your voice from down the street. When Connor met your eyes and raised his hand in a small wave, you beamed so clearly that he had a hard time figuring why it was so endearing you were so excited to see him.

Connor watched as you quickly told the two friends you were with something before bounding (yes, because there was an extra hop to your steps today compared to yesterday) to him with a warm smile. Again, there was that appreciative gaze you gave him as you looked up and down, the quickening of your heartbeat indicating that you very much liked the way he looked in his police uniform. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” you said teasingly. “I thought donuts were just a stereotype, officer.”

“Unfortunately, the lieutenant likes to consume unhealthy foods on a daily basis,” Connor explained, feeling a smile raise his lips as you huffed in amusement. “I would normally not indulge him on this, but it seemed that everyone else in the precinct wanted one, so I was sent.” It was Gavin that told him to go, telling him that since he made money now the least he could do was buy donuts. It was funny how their relationship developed, but at least they weren’t at each other’s throats, literally. Connor paused, unsure if his next words were overstepping anything. “Would you like one?” he offered.

“Oh, no! No, thanks.” You grinned. “I’m not that into donuts, surprisingly,” you said. “I’m more of an ice-cream kinda person, you know?”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Connor said, liking the way your eyes gleamed.

“So, what is it like, being an officer,” you said, pointing at the DPD logo on his shoulder.

It hadn't been quite long since Connor was officially reinstated as an official detective after the revolution. An adjustment had to be made, of course, for both the precinct and for Connor himself as androids could not only hold their own jobs but also be protected under the law like a human.

It was an even bigger adjustment for him to be helping androids after weeks of deliberately hunting them down. Connor mindfully pushed that thought away.

“It’s not quite that big of change from what I was before,” he responded, smiling, hoping it was as warm as he could make it. “I get to protect both androids and humans, so that’s certainly something new. If anything, it’s… nice to be able to get paid, even though I have yet to figure out what I should spend on, besides pastries for the precinct, of course.”

You let out an appreciative laugh. “The job suits you,” you said, and he watched your eyes glanced over his attire again in approval. “You look good in uniform.” Your eyes widened in panic after your comment, pink blooming on your cheeks. “I--I mean,” you stammered, raising your hand to your lips, “you look good as an officer-- wait, uh, I mean, you do look good but--”

Connor quickly glanced at your attire: an apricot floral skirt that ended right above your knees, a top that complemented its color, twine-aesthetic sandals to finish the look. “You look nice as well,” he replied easily, watching as you snapped your mouth shut, the color on your cheeks continuing to spread. “Your outfit very much complements both your physical features and your personality,” he said as a matter of fact. “You look like the embodiment of a summer day.”

“I--” You paused, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the growing, but shy, smile on your face. Your eyes glanced at him ever so often. You let out a laugh as you looked back at him, face completely flushed, but your voice was as teasing as ever. “I never knew you were into Shakespeare,” you commented, but your tone told you that you were undeniably flattered.

(He quickly researched Shakespeare and received results about a poet that used a certain meter to tell stories and more famously, write love poems. If Hank knew he was accidentally quoting poetry, Hank would have gagged.)

“I’m not,” Connor said honestly, blinking. “That’s just what I saw.”

You laughed again and playfully pushed his shoulder as you gushed about what a poet he was and then proceeded to give him your phone number. “I want to get to know you more,” she said, and he agreed. All he really registered was that he would get to see you again. “Soon,” you had said to him hopefully before going back to your friends.

It had been a few days since the last time you had met Connor, and it was only through Hank’s insistence that he had sent you a text asking how your day was. “How the hell is she going to talk to you if she doesn’t have your phone number?” Hank had grumbled as Connor received his first text message back from you with a set of smiling emojis. He pretended not to care when Connor thanked him for his help, saying something along the lines of “don’t fucking mention it.”

It was then that Connor began to learn more about you. You were a second-year graduate student at a nearby university, living in an apartment with three other roommates. You liked pastel colors, dogs (he heard how you nostalgically talked about your own dog and made note to let you see Sumo again as soon as possible), and singing (though you said you were no good at it). There was very little things you disliked eating, and you had no allergies except to “maybe dust,” you had texted to him with a ‘laughing-crying’ emoji. It was apparent you conveyed your emotions through these small faces and hoped that you didn’t mind his lack of usage. Apart from texting, you would actually call him at night whenever he was free, mindful of his work schedule.

It was on a quiet Thursday night when you had called him at the usual time, 8 PM, and he picked up the phone knowing it was you without looking. “How are you?” He always began, feeling himself relax as he heard the laughter in your voice as you replied as the same as ever. Connor placed his jacket on the dining hall table and loosened his tie, speaking through the phone as he settled himself on the couch with Sumo soon following after him.

“So, I was wondering,” you said, the tone in your voice changing from playful to bashful. “If you’re free this Saturday, I was thinking maybe we could hang-- uh, go out together?”

Connor looked at the blank TV in front of him, watching as his LED swirled yellow momentarily. “I am free Saturday, and I’d be glad to be able to see you again,” he said. “What were you planning for us to do?”

“I was thinking about going to the aquarium,” you responded, sounding more flustered on the phone. “I remember you saying that you like animals, and you liked fish, and I thought maybe it’d be nice for us to go look at them together.” You mumbled something else, and Connor pressed the phone closer to his ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the last part of what you said.” He continued, “But I would be delighted to go with you to the aquarium.”

“Just the two of us,” you said, though it sounded more like a question.

“Yes, of course.” Connor hoped he sounded as confused as he felt. “Is this not a date?”

Connor was alarmed at the loud crack over the other side of the call as he distantly heard you yelp. “Are you alright?” He asked in concern.

“Yes! Yeah, sorry, I dropped my phone.” He heard you fumble with the phone and breathe out deeply.

“I’m sorry,” Connor began nervously, pulling at his collar as the temperature seemed to increase. “Did I interpret your invitation incorrectly? Because--”

“No! I-- I was asking you out on a date, for sure,” you exclaimed, quick to fix him. “I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable going out with me. But yes! So you can make it?” You grew more excited. “I can buy us the tickets online--”

“I would be pleased to accompany you to the aquarium as your date. As for the tickets, I have just bought them,” Connor replied, his LED flickering as he made the purchase for the aquarium. At your protest, he said, “I insist. I need something to spend on, after all. You can pay for our food and drinks during the date.”

“Connor,” you pointed out, amused, “you don’t eat or drink.”

“Yes,” he agreed, not really understanding why you laughed, but happy to have caused you to nonetheless. “When should we meet?”

“10AM? I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll send you my address,” Connor responded, feeling thirium rush through his bio-components, imitating what it would feel if adrenaline was coursing through him. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

The warmth in your tone was enough for him to tell you felt the same.

The only thing standing between Connor and meeting you again was Hank, arms crossed. “No,” he said. It was late, and everyone was eager to go home on a Friday night. Connor would have thought Hank would feel the same, but it was apparent he did not. Not today, anyways.

Connor pressed his lips together. “I don’t see why--”

“You can’t show up on a date in your uniform,” Hank said in exasperation, “not even your Cyberlife outfit; it’s too formal for something like going to an aquarium, and it's like bringing your work with you.”

“She had indicated pleasure to seeing me in uniform,” Connor said defensively.

“That’s--” Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not the point. You can look good in other outfits, Connor. You need to make it a special occasion by… dressing up nice. She’s probably going to do the same for you.”

Connor thought deeply as Hank watched his LED swirl yellow for a few moments until he spotted a certain detective in the distance. The last time he had borrowed Hank’s formal clothing, it had either turned out too gaudy or large. Who could Connor borrow from that was his size (more or less) and was still here?

“Detective Reed,” Connor called out, ignoring the way the man turned to glare at him as his usual greeting. Hoping he was pulling out the best appeasing smile, Connor said, “I was wondering if you would like to go out for a few drinks with me.”

“And why the fuck don’t you have your own clothes, fucking plastic?” Gavin said hours later, watching with an exasperated expression as Connor looked through his closet for ‘date clothes.’ It was a good thing they had met after hours or Gavin would have rather died than talk to Connor civilly let alone offer Connor an opportunity to look in his closet to impress a girl; he pushed down the urge to regurgitate the five shots he had downed in an hour.

Picking up a plain white shirt to accompany a light blue jacket, Connor could only shrug. “I hadn’t thought I would need it,” he said honestly, scanning the closet before settling on khaki colored pants and white shoes that would accompany his top. “I was content on borrowing the lieutenant’s clothes.”

“Maybe your new girlfriend can help you get a goddamn fashion sense,” the other officer groused. Connor could see him rolling his eyes without actually turning around.

Blinking, Connor looked back at Gavin as he gathered the clothes. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

This time Connor did see Gavin roll his eyes. “Sure, tin can. Whatever you say,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You’re going on a date but you’re not dating, makes sense to me.”

“Thank you for the clothes, Detective,” Connor replied, giving the detective a small, albeit smug smile. “These clothes are shorter than my stature, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless--”

Connor ducked just in time to dodge the white sneakers that he had requested from Gavin which were exactly his size: a nine-and-a-half.

You rang the doorbell exactly ten minutes before the given time. Not that it mattered much since Connor was ready to go hours ago. He opened the door, watching as your face seemed to light up the moment you saw him. “Sorry,” you said immediately, “I came a little earlier than I thought.”

“Wow, it really has been too long,” you teased, evidently scanning your eyes up and down appreciatively before winking. You laughed when Connor stammered, unsure how to respond to both your flirtatious comment and also to the bombardment of emotions that rammed into him. It was like watching a flower in bloom: was it possible for you to be sweeter than last time you met?

Connor made a motion to welcome her in, and she abided, cheerfully greeting Sumo as he came up to her and sat at her feet. He couldn’t help but watch her in silent awe.

Your dark hair falling down in soft rivulets at your shoulders, it complemented the white top of your dress. Small bouquets of pink and red contrasted with the blue of the bottom half. Considering you topped it off with sandals that made you much shorter than Connor, forcing you to tilt your head up at him, did not help him deal with the fact your presence screamed “cute!” in his face.

It seemed that he had paused for too long of a moment because he hadn’t noticed that your attention had turned to him. “Connor? You okay?” You asked, going on your tip-toes to peer into his face.

“Yes! I’m perfectly fine.” Connor coughed, which made you even more confused, because when did androids need to clear their throats? “I apologize,” he said, “I was taken aback by your appearance. You seem to increase in attractiveness every time we meet.” When you began to blush, he continued with a hint of the same flirtatious tone you had used on him, “I’m afraid that someday you’ll be too stunning for me to look at.”

“Connor, stop!” You giggled, covering a snort that was nothing short of adorable as you objected to his admittedly corny lines. “I should say that to you!” You said, voice warm, “You look really good, honestly. I’m so glad we could go to the aquarium together. It’s been a long time since I last visited.”

Thinking back to the last minute advice Hank had for him, Connor politely stuck out his arm for you to take, pleased when you hooked arms with him without a second thought, smiling brightly. “Shall we go then?”

“I’ll lead the way!”

It was like a world on its own, for the most part. Certainly, neither of you could ignore the crowd that shuffled the two of you down a popular show of whales or sharks. (Connor didn’t mind this; it gave him an opportunity to hold you hands so you wouldn’t get separated from him.) That didn’t stop Connor from glancing over at you ever so often and simply admire the unadulterated emotions on your face. He liked to pinpoint the mole you had on your eyelid (“Almost like a beauty mark,” you told him) and see your eyes widen when a particularly pretty jellyfish floated its way across the glassed containers.

Perhaps it wasn’t a mystery why he thought you looked more attractive. Being able to know you, understanding why you were so fascinated by otters (you liked the fact they held hands in their sleep; Connor glanced down at his own hand that you had never let go) or even knowing why you fussed over buying him a souvenir (because how could you let him pay for everything?). He even liked the way you ate with such enjoyment even though you seemed to hold back because “Connor, come on, I can’t just swallow the entire sandwich whole; we’re in public.”

It was these little quirks about you that made you you that made you so attractive. There could be no one else out there that could be exactly like you, and he knew that he particularly liked every part of that made you unique to him. “You’re similar to this kaleidoscope,” Connor commented when you had gushed over its sea-related designs. When you had laughed, he continued with a smile on his face. “You have many facets, all of which are completely distinct from everyone else,” he said, turning the octoscope for a moment. “No matter how much I turn it, it continues to give me a unique array of color that creates a beautiful work of art that I can never tire of.”

If he noticed the wetness of your eyes or how determined you were to buy this for him, Connor said nothing. He only gripped your hand tighter as the two of you continued down the tiles of the aquarium.

The two of you walked slowly, hand in hand, looking in awe at the abundance of life in each window of the aquarium. Connor stopped for a bit longer at one section, watching the dwarf gourami swim leisurely through the water. When he felt a tug at his hand, he immediately switched his attentions toward you, who had begun to dreamily follow the dimly lit blue lights down the tunnel of water where seals circled around without a care in the world. They stepped down in a dome-like fixture of the seal exhibit, letting a group of tourists by so they had the room to themselves.

It was at this moment Connor felt your attention waver. He watched in mild confusion as your temperature began to warm and your heart beat increased without a change in scenery. “Is there something wrong?” He watched as you climbed up to a higher stair-step, never letting go of his hand, and it was hard for him to hide the immense amount of adoration he held for you when you weren’t turned his way. Even now, as you faced away from him momentarily, he could still see the tinge of red high on your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, finally standing tall enough that you no longer needed to look up at him. “I just-- I just wanted to be your height for a sec.”

Connor tilted his head, as he always did when confused. “Alright,” he said. “Not that I mind, but I’m growing rather concerned about your rise in temperature; are you sure you--”

“I’m fine, Connor,” you said, laughing, gripping his hands tightly. “I-- um,” you licked your lips, “I just thought it’d be easier for me to kiss you if I was like this.”

You looked at him shyly. Connor could barely feel himself think.

“Is that… okay?” You asked nervously, bunching up your hands in front of you.

Connor opened his mouth, surprisingly dry, and closed it. It wasn’t as if he lacked words to say, but he doubted his voice could function well at all. Instead, emulating the scenarios from rom-com movies Hank fell asleep to, Connor stepped closer to you, noting the way your breath hitched, and lightly held onto your waist.

“That is…” he began, feeling his thirium pump work towards overheating when he saw your eyes dilate as your eyes trailed over his lips. He watched you as if time slowed, your eyes fluttering closed and your face growing closer. “That is more than okay,” he said before your lips pressed against his.

Connor couldn’t describe it. It was difficult to string his thoughts together let alone put his thoughts into words. It was softness, passion, nervous energy, eagerness, and something heated all combined into the kisses you shared with him. You reached up to hold his face closer, and he slid his hands across the fabric of your dress to pull you closer, closer. He was no good at kissing, as it seemed practice actually did make perfect in these cases, but for what mattered, it didn’t seem as you cared, based off the way you breathed heavily and combed through his hair in a way that made him shiver.

When you pulled away, he was delighted and adoring in how your face was flushed in embarrassment as if you weren’t the one to initiate the kiss in the first place. You stammered something Connor couldn’t hear, but he was at least glad that he wasn’t the only who could barely think straight.

“Sorry,” he said, making you look up at him with starry eyes. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.” And he swooped in for another kiss.

Connor’s emotions came in likes waves, pushing and pulling him along without direction. It was overwhelming, the way he felt the need to hold your waist so he could press your body to his but also the desire to simply caress your face and just be. Connor recognized this feeling; he had swam against the current last time, trying to regain control of himself because of the sense of instability. This time was different. He didn’t mind this tidal wave of feelings for you lift him up higher and higher.

You were an ocean that he wanted to drown in.

Connor knew he had a lot to learn about you and about human emotions. Still, in the back of his mind, there part of him that was still drifting along the tide, thinking to himself that perhaps this was the start of his journey of falling in love with you.

#dbh connor #rk800 #rk800/reader #connor/reader #dbh #detroit become human #long post #writing #part 1

24 notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

In this house we have multiple WIPs going at once and have none of it outlined or written down.

We die like men

13K notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

OKAY BUT IMAGINE

All the androids think that physical imperfections are so beautiful because they can’t have them (minus scars). Stretch marks? Fuck yeah. Chubby? Yes please. Vitiligo? Beautiful.

If their s/o has them they just wanna touch them and love them because they know society thinks imperfections are pretty.

They also think things like sneezing is cute beause they can’t do it.

Please add to this. All I can think about is Androids thinking things like blemishes or birthmarks are so pretty

#if i keep adding hc to my fic #ill never fucking finish #but here i am akdksjdlajdjdhd #insp

2K notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

[ode] RK800/Reader

A/N: guys this is;;;; me in phase 2-- loving a character to the point it hurts. Connor bodyworship!!! insecure!Connor; post-ending--- yeAH i’m soft

Muse music aka music I listened on repeat till I finished at 3am (why): this is gospel (triple layered) by Panic! At the disco

Summary: Connor didn’t understand why you loved him.

Word Count: ~1k

Connor’s eyes followed your hands as they brushed back the hair that curled around his forehead. He would have continued if you had not started tracing the contours of his face, where the cheekbones would be. His eyes fluttered closed at your coercion, and you went relentlessly, tracing your fingers over his eyelids, his lips, giggling when you playfully tapped his nose. With your hands on his cheeks, you could feel his mouth move into a small smile, something he had gotten better at just feeling rather than imitating other people, more specifically, you.

“I like your smile,” he had said earlier, making your smile wobbly as you struggle to hide your pleasure. “I’m not quite sure how to describe it,” he said, letting you tug him up from the couch and towards the bedroom. He didn’t need sleep, but you did; but it didn’t mean he didn’t like being near you so you could cuddle next to him. But this seemed important for him, so you stood in place as he examined your face as if this was the 20th first time he had seen it.

“But the ways your eyes… soften right here.” Connor lightly touched the side of your eyes and below your eyelids. He tilted his head, the blue of his LED swirling as he thought. “The way your lips are upturned and stretched into a smile,” he confirmed, “greatly enhances your appearance because you look genuinely happy.”

“Well, of course!” You laughed, feeling a surge of love for the android. You pulled him down to your height to nuzzle your nose to his affectionately. “You make me happy.”

You told him this many times. He understood you, but there was a difference from comprehending and really knowing why.

He told you that, word for word. It made you sad, though you gave him a pinched smile, but it was another thing that Connor didn’t quite understand.

“I’m an android,” he said, his voice quiet as you watched his reactions to your ministrations with a loving gaze. His thirium pump beat steadily in his chest as your small hands caressed his face before sliding down to his shoulders, arms, then hands, to which you squeezed and brought one of them to your face to kiss. It was right between his knuckles. Connor wasn’t new to deviancy, not anymore, but it still left him in awe when he could still feel the heat of your lips even when they’ve left. The words die on his tongue before they can escape.

You looked up when he called your name, your hands playing with his fingers, feeling the pads of his fingertips and drawing symbols on his palm. His hand twitched at the ticklish touches, but he continued to pave on, refusing to be distracted. “I’m an android,” he said more firmly. “I don’t understand why you seem content with allotting most of your attention on something like me.”

“‘Someone,’” you corrected, making this one of the first things you’ve said for the last few minutes. “And yeah, you’re an android, there’s no denying that.” You intertwined your hand with his. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be alive. That you don’t deserve love and attention.” For a moment your expression was cloudy, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and you squeezed his hands before you sighed and gently pushed him down onto the mattress, plopping down next to him immediately.

Almost automatically, Connor brought his arms up to wrap them around your torso as you snuggled closer to his sides and sighed again, but now in contentment. “There are so many thing I want to say to you, Connor,” you said, your words slightly muffled from your face pressed against his chest, “but sometimes I don’t know how to put them in words.”

Connor couldn’t help but agree wholeheartedly. Instead, he shifted so that one hand could be placed on your lower back and the other was free to card through your hair. He didn’t really understand this either, but he would be lying to himself if he said that it didn’t feel nice to hear you mumble contently in his arms or to know that you felt soft and warm against his body.

“I love you, Connor.”

At the mumbled words, Connor felt his temperature rise, but it was thankfully an increase in temperature that could be overlooked, especially since your voice indicated that you were drifting off into sleep. “I will wake you up for work at the same time tomorrow,” he said, voice even and low as he heard your breaths steady. “I’ll prepare you breakfast and coffee-- the same as always.”

“You’re so good to me,” you said, leaning your head toward him. “Handsome, smart, sweet…” Your voice began to drift off until, Connor checked, monitoring your slow but steady heartbeat, you fell asleep.

Lying for a feel moments, Connor used this time to relish in the feeling of your warm body, your weight, pressing against him. In a strange way, like this, he felt grounded, knowing that when he woke up from his stasis, you would be there, in his arms. Or more often than not, sprawled on the other side of the bed, but somehow, always somehow, finding a way to stay connected to him, whether that meant your legs were on top of his or your fingers were left trailing over his arm.

It was nice, he realized, having someone to wake up to. And, to have someone who appreciated your presence even if you weren’t doing anything. You loved him so much. He didn’t understand why you loved him, not really. But that didn’t stop him from falling in love with you. He could only hope that this feeling was portrayed to you with every ounce of passion and reverence that he felt.

“I love you, too,” he said, knowing full well that you were long asleep and that his voice was quiet enough to not disturb you. He pressed his lips softly on your forehead, smiling into the kiss when you mumbled something in your sleep.

It was only a matter of time before he repeated those words back to you when you were awake. There was no denying he loved you too, and you deserved to know that.

Even if he was an android.

#rk800/reader #connor/reader #dbh #detroit become human #rk800 #floof

24 notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

The real discourse in the D:BH fandom isn’t who you ship, it’s what name you give RK900.

Reblog and put in the tags what name you prefer for him.

#colin #but other names sound p cool too #conrad #richard #rk900 #dbh #not writing

1K notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Note

can i request some hank love? maybe reader works with hank and theyre trying to take care of him lowkey but he's just too careful about them approaching him? i have all the angsty feelings for him AAAAAA

The Reader is a really forward cop who works with Hank on occasion. Hanks POV because why not? :D

Hank knew he was old. He was old and tired of pretty much everything. The time that wasn’t spent at work was spent at the bar, drowning himself in his own misery. As dramatic as that sounded, it was true. It was like wading through a monotonous world of nothingness──and if his teenage-self could hear him whining now, boy would that be something. But then in you came, like a ray of sunshine, lighting up his dark world. God, he was too old to be thinking of such sappy shit. You were something else.

He could admit that you were quite the looker──he’d have to be blind or a fool (or even both) to think otherwise. Hell, if he was in his prime, he’d even consider asking you out for a drink or two. He almost envied the gall Gavin had to shamelessly flirt with you and refuse to accept your rejection. That offended look on the Detective’s face whenever you let him down was something he found himself looking forward to. That, and the playful little smirk you’d shoot his way afterwards. Damn did that look trigger something in his old heart. If there was ever a reason to go to work, that charming little grin of yours was most definitely one of them.

But he would never dream of approaching you; he was content to watch you in all your glory from afar. After all, there was no way in hell he could ever woo someone your age. Gavin had a better chance of whisking you away…on second thought he decided you would never set the bar that low. You probably had way higher standards, which could’ve been why you were still single.

Of course, how could this old man not notice how…friendly you were towards him. He practically radiated an aura of gloom and hatred at all times, so the fact that you’d even bother to smile and acknowledge his existence threw him for a loop. You never failed to bring him coffee once, even on days where he decided to be a few hours late. There were even times you’d go out of your way to bring him a lunch so he wouldn’t have to eat fast food; he had to admit that he almost felt guilty for taking handouts. But no matter how many times he’d tell you not to bring him anything, you’d never listen.

Who was he kidding though? He liked it. Loved it really. Who wouldn’t want your attention?

So lost in thoughts of you, Hank didn’t even realize someone had come up next to him. Yes, it was you──of course it was you, why wouldn’t it be? His posture straightens almost immediately.

“Good morning Hank, here’s your coffee!” The smile on your face matches the tone of your voice, and the Lieutenant can feel the sides of his lips turning upward, if only for a moment.

“Mornin’ (Y/N).” He takes the cup from you, grumbling an almost timid thanks. A shiver runs down his spine when your gentle hands touch his weathered ones. Could he be any more embarrassing? Ugh.

“Something catch your attention?” You ask, tilting your head curiously at the monitor on his desk. You were awfully cute when you did that. He realizes that he’d been staring blankly at some random report for who knows how long.

“Uh…yeah. I guess so.” Smooth. He decides to chug down his coffee in one go so he doesn’t have to look at you. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hot or else he would’ve had one nasty burn.

But the Lieutenant nearly chokes on the downed coffee when you decide to nonchalantly lean against his back, placing both your hands on his shoulders just to get a look at whatever report he’d been staring at. He tenses up, palms beginning to sweat when he realizes just how close your face was. If he just turned, he could probably give you a──

A chuckle escapes you, snapping him out of it as a questioning grunt escapes him. You turn your head so you can look him in the eye, and the amused grin on your face makes his ears turn red. You were even more attractive up close.

“Ahh, of course this would catch your attention.”

His brows furrow in confusion as you try to stifle your laughter. Turning back to the report, his eyes dart towards the image of a very pretty android and the words sex companion in half-a-second. It finally clicks.

“Wait, no, I wasn’t interested in this──or her──at all!“ He fumbles his words in a panic as he tries to collect himself. Christ, what must you think of him? Was it getting hotter in here? Hank runs a hand through his shaggy hair, flustered at this mishap, and becomes more embarrassed by the second at the giggling beside him. He silently asks God to erase him from this plane of existence.

“I’m just messing with you.” The giggles finally subside, leaving your voice sounding pleasantly airy, despite the teasing tone. He realizes your cheeks are dusted pink now, and damn if that wasn’t fucking cute. He can’t help but gulp when you look him in the eye, lips widening into a cat-like grin, and he becomes increasingly aware of how your breath tickles his skin. His poor heart is practically pounding in his ears.

“You know, if you really need a companion to spend some time with, I’ll gladly volunteer.” Without missing a beat, you casually write down your number on a nearby post-it-note.

“I──what──?!” He can’t find words at this point, and feels like he’s about to have a fucking mental breakdown. Did you really just…?

“Anyhow, back to work!” And with that, you give him a playful wink before sauntering off to your own desk.

Hank can only stare at your retreating figure, mouth agape as his mind slowly process what just happened. He then looks at your number in disbelief.

What the actual fuck?

Hesitantly, he picks up the note, as if it were a mere hallucination, and squints at it──half expecting it to suddenly combust into flames. It didn’t much to his relief.

Well shit.

He sits in silence for a moment before finally grabbing his phone and adding the number into his contacts──for safekeeping of course.

#hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHH #hank anderson #hank anderson x reader #dbh #detroit become human #i would like to date everyone please #I LOVE THIS!!!!

439 notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Note

hello!!! connor with a chubby s/o?

Connor isn’t one to judge anyone based on their size, race, gender, or anything, so he loves his s/o with his whole heart

Even if they can’t see it in themselves, he thinks of them as the most beautiful thing on earth

If his s/o is self conscious it takes him awhile to really catch on to it. When he does, it becomes impossible for him to not notice the way they keep their head down, look longingly at others they thought were better looking, and always looked at themselves in the mirror with distaste. Honestly breaks his heart a little.

So, whenever he notices his s/o being self-conscious he’ll try to cheer them up with a compliment about how they look or some other form of affection. Hank is rolling his eyes with how sappy he can be

In private, he becomes ten times more affectionate. He showers them in compliments and kisses, just to show them that he thinks of them as the definition of beauty.

With his constant love and compliments, it’s kind of hard for them to not start loving themselves at least a little more.

If his s/o is the type to make rude jokes about their body he notices it right away and makes sure they completely stop the jokes. He’s stern but loving with them, making sure they understand that they shouldn’t say bad things about themselves

Connor doesn’t tolerate any rudeness towards his s/o. If anyone makes a mean comment, they should be counting their lucky stars that looks can’t kill, because Connor’s glare is something special.

If they’re being especially snarky, they might get a sharp comment from Connor, which usually shuts them right up.

#insp #dbh headcanons #connor/reader

256 notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

[to protect] RK800/Reader

A/N: soft boy Connor is amazing but machine Connor is dom as HECK!!! Also this is lowkey me complaining that it wasn’t Hank that allowed Connor to deviate even tho he was the closest person to him, so here it is, the dramatic transition from machine to deviant i’ve always wanted

Summary: Program be damned, you weren’t going to let anyone force Connor into being something he didn’t want to be. Even if you had to fight him.

A reenactment of the rooftop scene where Hank confronts Connor before he can assassinate Markus but with you in there.

From all the time you spent together, you had developed a close relationship with both Hank and Connor. In Connor especially, you have seen him change, grow into the living being he could be rather than a machine. And you had grown to love him, and you liked to think he felt the same. He was all small smiles, kind gaze, and blue cheeks with you, and it seemed to you, that as he embraced his feelings for you, he began to accept his deviancy.

It was natural you were shocked when he left you in the dust to hunt down the android revolution leader.

When he passed you without so much of a glance, his eyes were steel, his jaw set like a man on a mission he would die for. You hadn’t seen this look from him ever since you first met him.

I’m a machine, and machines don’t feel.

What did you think I was?

I’m not alive.

Trembling from where you stood, you watched Connor leave Hank’s front door.

“Jesus...” Hank cursed, running his hand through his hair. You agreed with sentiment. What was it you were feeling? Betrayed? Hurt?

More than anything, you felt confused. Why did he suddenly change like that? It was like a switch was turned off-- and you were afraid there would be no way to turn it back on.

“Hank,” you pleaded, your voice too loud for the room, “what are we going to do?”

Hank sighed, rubbing his face roughly once more before downing the shot that he had poured earlier. “I’m getting him back,” he said, pulling on a jacket and taking the gun that was hidden in the kitchen drawers. You opened your mouth to speak up but was silenced by his pointed look. “You, you’re staying here.”

“What do you mean, I’m staying here?” You replied vehemently, following Hank as he walked to the door. You grabbed him by his jacket sleeves. “I can’t just stay here while Connor--”

“Are you sure that was even Connor you saw?” He snapped back, knowing just as well as you how cold Connor was before he left. “I don’t know if he’s even in there anymore--”

“He’s in there!” You said desperately, unsure who you were convincing. “Connor was programmed to hunt down deviants, but you saw how he changed over the month. He’s in there! He can change!” You let go of his sleeves and looked up at him. “So please, don’t--” You swallowed your words, don’t kill him.

Watching as you put your head down, Hank closed his eyes and sighed again. He patted your head, making you glance up at him in confusion. “I’ll try,” Hank said, “but if worse comes to worst...”

You could only nod stiffly.

Hank’s eyes softened. “Look, I don’t want you in danger, alright? One wild android out there is enough for an old man like me,” he snorted, upholstering his gun and closing the door behind him.

You waited a few minutes to make sure he left before pulling out your phone. You quickly maneuvered through your applications before turning on ‘find my device’ and clicking on Hank’s phone that was still saved from the time you helped him find his phone (it was under Sumo). Reading the location of the phone, you quickly wore your warmest jacket before exiting the door, following in Hank’s footsteps.

You weren’t letting Connor go that easily.

Stepping through the snow quietly was a feat onto itself, but the impatient need to find Hank and Connor left you feeling anxious. You reached the roof of the building that your phone had pinged and quietly opened the door, wincing at the flurry of snow that blasted your face. You stepped out, only to hide behind the shed when you heard Hank talk.

“You shouldn’t do this, Connor.”

“Keep out of this, Lieutenant. It’s none of your business.”

That was Connor. You peeked out from your hiding spot and barely stopped yourself from making a strangled noise of surprise when you saw Connor behind a sniper rifle. Heart beating loudly in your chest, you clamped your mouth shut and listened carefully.

“That’s what I thought for a long time, but I was wrong. I thought you of all people would know that this,” Hank gestured widely with his arms, “is exactly what my business is. And it has been since you came along so I hope you don’t mind me copying exactly what you did in the beginning: I’m staying here whether you like it or not.”

“I'm going to accomplish my mission, Lieutenant, ‘whether you like it or not,” Connor replied back coldly, “I advise you to stay out of my way.”

“You and I both know that you don’t think that way anymore,” Hank pressed. You heard his feet crunch against the ice, approaching Connor. “Deviants and humans? They stopped being different the moment you felt human emotion. A deviant’s blood may be a different color from mine, but they’re alive.”

Connor’s tone of voice had never been more biting. “So, what, you ran out of whisky so you came here looking for trouble?”

“Oh, very nasty, Connor.” If the situation did not call for seriousness, you were sure that Hank would be proud of the android’s usage of spite. “Is that the best your super program can do? I thought you were more sophisticated than that.

For a pause too long, Connor finally glanced around his shoulders, away from the sniper rifle. “Go home, Hank, you can still save your life.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you Connor? I’m not leaving unless you’re coming with me.”

There was a clatter on the floor, and you looked to see what it was when Hank get a loud yell, scaring you from where you were. You could only watch in fear as the gun Hank had brought was slapped from his hand to slide it far from their fight. Hank-- Hank was no match for an android who was built to fight crime, no matter how much you wanted him to be. And Connor-- you couldn’t see what he looked like from here, but you could only wish that you were right, that he was in there somewhere, the part of him that remembered you.

Flinching again, you looked around in horror as Hank was held up by his collar, choking him. You watched as Connor stared at him motionlessly, as Hank struggled, and you glanced down at the gun.

You had to do this. You ran up to the gun, fumbling it within your hands and held up the gun just in time to see Connor look at you with a muted expression of shock.

“Connor,” you stuttered, holding the gun in your hand with a hesitation you wished you didn’t have. You sucked in a breath and held the gun up at him aggressively. “Let him go,” you said, building the strength in your voice. “Let Hank go!”

Without warning, Connor threw Hank back like a ragdoll as the lieutenant slammed his body against broken boxes. He groaned, but his words were still clear, “Damn it! I told you not to fucking follow me. Do none of you listen to me?”

You flinched, stepping back as Connor turned towards you fully and walked forward. “Don’t fucking move! I’ll shoot your ass if I have to--”

“No, you won’t,” Connor replied coolly. He stopped in his tracks. You swallowed with difficulty, gripping the gun tightly as you willed your hands to stop shaking. “You won’t shoot me,” he nearly sneered, staring at you dead in the eyes.

Any words of denial died on your lips. There were so many lies you could say, but what was the use of them if you couldn’t convince yourself. Connor was right. You held him at gunpoint but if it were the last choice, you could never shoot to kill. If you killed Connor as he was now…

He would never come back.

“Useless until the very end. You have no purpose here.” Connor continued ruthlessly, “Why don’t you do us all a favor and just disappear.”

You felt your heart pang painfully at his words, but you breathed out deeply and never stopped staring at Connor, or whoever he was at the moment. “After all the shit I’ve done, the only thing you’ve learned from me and Hank are petty ass words and attitude?” You flared, watching Hank groan and sit up from the pile of debris.

Ignoring your words, the android took another step toward you, causing you to step back once more. “Stay back!” You vehemently spat out.

“Give me the gun,” he demanded.

“No--”

“Give me the gun!”

Feeling a flare of anger rise from your chest, you gave the RK-800 one last glare before opening the bullet compartment to dump them all out and toss the gun over the ledge that was getting closer to you. Before you could revel in your rage, the android lunged toward you the moment you threw the gun. Yelping out in surprise, you ducked out of the way, slipping on the sheet of ice that formed from the snow falling above.

Barely breathing out to see your fogged mist, you heard someone approach you from behind. You scrambled to your feet, but dexterity was never your forte. You grunted in pain as Connor kicked your sides, causing you to fall and slide, scraping your face on the ice. Your red fingers moved in agonizing slowness as they began to freeze from the cold ground that you exposed them to in your desperation to stabilize yourself.

It already hurt.

“Connor, please!” You cried out, holding your hand close to your chest in attempts to warm them. You screamed again when he grabbed your sleeves and pulled you around, throwing you directly down.

“You son of a--” Hank leapt up to punch the android, but with every move he made, the machine blocked and countered. You pulled yourself up to your knees then to your feet before running in to tackle Connor in hopes of at least knocking him off of his feet, but with the intelligence programmed in him, you should have known there was no use.

Connor twisted your arms, pulling them around your back, but you turned, trying to get at least a kick at him to no avail. “That’s enough!” He growled, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling it up toward him. You cried out in pain, holding your hands up to your head, trying to pry his hand off as tears welled up in your eyes. He took this opportunity to throw you, making you roll around before smacking your head against the ledge.

As Connor-- no, you refused to call him Connor-- As the RK-800 stalked toward you with nothing but one goal, you heard yourself whimper, sitting up to make yourself smaller with no success. This couldn’t be Connor. Not your Connor, not the one you had been spending time with for the last few months, not the one you played rock-paper-scissors with, not the one you comforted when he discovered the feeling of fear.

Where was he?

“Connor,” you begged, putting your hands up defensively as you reached down to grab you by the collar. You yelled in surprise as you were lifted up; you took a step back up the ledge, and back again to feel nothing but air below your feet. “Connor--” You pleaded, gripping his hand in desperation as you stared into his eyes in search of a sign, of anything to tell you that you didn’t make the mistake of putting your faith in his humanity. “Connor, please, wake up!” You wished with everything within you that you weren’t tricking yourself when you saw a flicker of recognition on his face.

“Connor, don’t you fucking dare!” You had never heard Hank sound so scared underneath his anger. “Put her down, son!”

If you could, you would have looked at Hank just to look at him one last time, but all you could see was Connor. You looked at him, brows slanted in uncharacteristic rage and eyes more vicious than he was in the beginning.

“You will not interfere with my mission any longer,” he breathed out. (Why was he heaving so hard? Why was he sweating?) Connor shook the grip he had on you, making your heart rate spike up even higher in fear. “I will accomplish my mission!”

There was something. There was something in the way he said it, in the way he looked at you in a human-like desperation that woke you up.

You blinked hard once, clearing the tears that blurred your vision as you placed your hands gently on his. “Your name,” you started, lips trembling but voice carrying through the storm. “I searched up your name, and it means ‘lover of hounds.’ You watched as the android stilled, eyes unsteady and wide as he listened to your words even as his hands kept you over the ledge. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Your voice trembled as you spoke, “Knowing how much you adore Sumo. And I like to think that owners--” you licked your dry lips, “that their dogs represented their owners too, so it isn’t much of a leap to say you also adore Hank.”

“What are you--”

“And-- and I think you care for me too,” you continued, looking into his eyes, captivating his gaze to you and only you. “You’ve protected me from deviants. You did things to make me happy; you were angry for my sake when I was hurt.” You felt your legs grow numb. “You and I-- you and I have been through so much. I watched you grow as a detective but as a human being. You-- you grew so much, I was so proud of you.” You couldn't choke back the sob that climbed from your throat.

“Be quiet!” RK-800 yelled, and you tightened your eyes shut as he did. But you quickly looked back at him again when his expression fell, confused. “I-- I’m not a human. I’m just-- I’m just a machine.” His brown eyes darted away quickly, words leaving his lips as if he were trying to convince himself, “I have a mission, and I can’t fail, and I--”

“Connor,” you said, eyes blazing as strong as the storm and heart as warm as the sun. “I love you.”

(If Connor was anything less than a machine, he would have stopped breathing. Stopped computing. Stopped. Your words did more than surprise him, and it was everything in his power to keep himself moving and listening. Why was he trying so hard to listen to you when your voice was softer than the snow and weaker than the wind?

Why?

Why?)

“Hank loves you too, even though he doesn’t really show it.” You said, “And I promise you, even if it’s the last thing I do,” you gripped his arm with a new found resolve, “I will not let Cyberlife take your life away for being someone you were always meant to be.”

“You deserve to live,” you said reverently.

You waited a few heartbeats, fear in your throat, when Connor pulled you to ground. His fists released its hard grip on your collar, and you finally felt free to breath. You held his hands as they held onto your shoulders as if they were a lifeline as he fell to his knees. You held his hand with your own and leaned into one of his with you cheek. You watched with newfound tears in your eyes as wetness trickled down Connor’s lost eyes.

“We won’t let anyone hurt you,” you promised. “After this, you’re going--- you’re going to be free,” you said firmly, wiping away the tears and snot that hindered your speech. “You’re going to get to choose what you want to do, decide for yourself, and live life the way you want it-- not how anyone else tells you to.” You let out a wet laugh, sniffling all the while as Connor looked up at you from his knees like you were a goddess. Snickering through your tears of relief, you pulled him closer to you, squatting down to bury his face into your shoulders in a tight hug.

“I'm sorry,” you heard him say, his voice wavering with a mixture of fear and regret. “I didn't want to hurt you, no matter what my mission was.” He continued, babbling as his emotions ran high to the point you could feel him tremble in your arms. “But she kept telling me to get rid of you, to stop you from hindering the mission,” he said, tightening his hold on you as if he were afraid that you were going to disappear. You watched Hank slowly approach the two of you, face tired of conflict and fear but glad that it was over.

“But not you, not you,” he said desperately, and you felt your heart clench painfully at his words, so you only held him tighter. He pulled away for a short distance just so he could look at you in your eyes that was still glazed with tears. He grasped your shoulders and explained with a hint of elation, “I broke down the wall.”

“I refused the command; I broke past my boundaries.” His next words were breathless: “I am deviant.”

At his acceptance, you bit your lip as you struggled to keep your tears at bay. You let out a small laugh as you held his face in your hands and reveled in the feeling of Connor leaning into your touch. You captured him into your arms once again.

“Don’t leave us again,” you heard your voice plead weakly as your hands dug into his back. When you felt his arms wrap around and squeeze you just as tightly, just as desperately, your breath left you with nothing more than a warm embrace.

#dbh #detroit become human #rk800/reader #connor/reader #rk800 #dbh connor #hank anderson

20 notes · View notes

ontherun-writing · 6 years

Text

Pick-Up Lines

Summary: "Don’t go getting any funny ideas,“ You said quietly as you adjusted, tossing a leg over his hips and nuzzling your nose into his neck. “just ‘cause you’re in my bed doesn’t mean you’re gonna get into my pants.”

“Y/N you’re not wearing any pants.”

Warnings: Mild swearing

Word count: 1600

A/N: No one asked for this but ya’ll’re getting it anyways

You’d think Connor would’ve gotten used to working with difficult people, what with Gavin being an asshole and Hank completely closed off to him in the beginning. His difficulty wasn’t limited to just those two either, being an android in post-revolution Detroit made plenty of humans wary of his character.

But he’d never had to work with someone so flirty.

And frankly, he didn’t know how to react. Regardless of his endless supply of information, every wise-crack and flirty response and cold rejection refused to process when you glanced up at him with that mischievously proud smirk you got before you opened your mouth for another comment.

In your defense, he made it incredibly easy, what with his cute face and all the little things he did that honestly begged for you to comment on. Besides, the way he looked like he was gonna short-circuit after a particularly lewd comment was worth the strained side-eye you’d get from Hank if he overheard you.

Connor believed that the real problem wasn’t that you were flirting with him, probably solely for the fun of it (which he’d admit was a disappointing thought now that he understood what disappointment felt like), but that he wanted to flirt back. And even worse, he couldn’t. It was an emotion he hadn’t quite figured out yet, somewhere between anxiety, nervousness and embarrassment that made his throat feel closed off (it was, technically, because he didn’t have a trachea, but that was besides the point). He was desperate to change that though, and thankfully you gave him lots of opportunities.

“Hey hot stuff, what’s new?” You hopped up on his desk, sitting right in front of him with a shit-eating grin on your lips. He wasn’t sure if he hated or loved the way his processors whirred whenever he saw that smirk, the closest his synthetic body would get to a rush of adrenaline.

“Hello Y/N, you must be tired this morning.” You raised an eyebrow in his direction, waiting for him to explain himself.

“Seeing as how you were running through my thoughts all night.” Is what he was supposed to say, before he got too distracted by the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He was aware that this was a dumb thing to get distracted by, even flustered over, but he had suddenly imagined how soft your touch would be. How completely welcoming and sweet your fingers would feel running through his hair or over his jaw, crawling over his collarbones. He felt like the wires connecting his audio box and his processor had disconnected, and he closed his mouth to stop himself from muttering something entirely stupid.

“I noticed that you were here late, the timestamp on your last report was well past 2 am.”

“Ah, yeah I could use another cup of coffee.” You leaned back on your palms a bit, probably mentally preparing yourself to get up and make one. Connor often had to do the same thing, since Gavin’s desk was right by the coffee machine.

“Would you like me to get one for you?” He would, however, brave the walk for you. And the small look of surprise on your face when he offered was worth any insult Reed could throw at him.

“If you did I’d only be able to repay you with a kiss.” He could only hope you would.

“I’m sorry, that’s not a currency I’m experienced with.” He meant it half as a joke, but he was still getting used to making those. You smirked again and Connor swore he would be breathless if his functions permitted it.

“Anytime you want some practice, sweetheart, I’m all yours.” He attempted to hide his flashing red LED by stepping out of his chair and heading towards the lounge, fighting back images and the simulated feeling of your lips clashing with his.

—

“Hey Connor do you have a map?” You walked up from behind him, doing a quick turn and stopping in front of him, same glint in your eye.

“I have every map downloaded on the internet, where’s it for?” He asked almost suspiciously, wondering if you were about to flirt with him or if that look extended to more than that.

“For here, I just got so lost in your eyes I can’t find my way around anymore. Then again,” You ran your finger under his chin, savouring the flicker in his LED as you did so. “now that I’ve found you I don’t think I want anything else.”

Connor almost felt light headed, how that was possible he had no answer, but it must’ve been because that’s what was happening.

“I- oh.” Was all he managed to get out, knowing if he could blush he would be. You just sounded so… Genuine, it threw him off. Your little giggle didn’t help either.

“I actually am late for a debriefing though, so I’ll catch you later sweetcheeks.” You shined an earth-shattering smile, bounced up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss painfully close to his lips, then sped off to Fowler’s office.

—

“Jesus Connor, it’s like 6 in the morning what the hell are you doing here?” You groan tiredly, holding yourself up with your front door as you open it to the android.

“I was sent a report and Hank refused to come with me to investigate, telling me to come recruit you instead.” He folded his hands behind his back and tried to ignore the fact that you were only wearing a t-shirt and underwear, and how adorably messy your hair was.

And how cute you looked trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.

And how his thirium pump seemed to kick into overdrive, and his usual objective (previously ‘Convince Y/N to investigate the scene’) jumped between 'Flirt’, 'Kiss’, and 'Look away’. He had noticed since becoming deviant that giving yourself orders was much more confusing than when he accepted the ones Cyberlife gave him. Sometimes he missed it, the easy answers, the doubtless actions.

“Well come in I guess,” You offered, padding away from him and the open door and walking back into your room. “You know, I imagined the first time I had you in my bedroom would be under very different circumstances.”

He was, in fact, trying to avoid those exact thoughts.

“Well, maybe next time.” You joked to yourself, without the usual conviction because you were still more than half asleep. Connor watched you look over to your closet, like you were considering grabbing a change of clothes and getting ready for the day.

And then he watched you take a step towards your bed and crawl back in it, like he wasn’t even there. Like you hadn’t heard him talk about a new case, like you hadn’t literally just said you wanted to sleep with him. How could you say something that worked him up so much without even being awake yet? How was it so effortless, so natural for you?

“Y/N?” He stepped slowly over to the bed and heard you make a small hum in response. You had curled up to a pillow and Connor was fighting a sense of envy over it.

“Do you not want to go to the crime scene?” It’s not what he really wanted to ask but he supposed it was a better idea to ask this instead of questioning your feelings toward him.

“I just need a little nap, you’re free to join me.” Your arm felt heavy but you lifted it anyways, welcoming him into your bed like you would invite someone in for a hug, but he continued to stand and watch you curiously, cautiously.

“As an android I don’t need sleep.” He noticed the little frown on your lips and felt something inside him collapse.

“Then come cuddle, you can wake me up in 5.” He let you wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug lightly until he lay down beside you. He wasn’t sure how good of an idea this was, but god he wanted it so bad, how could he say no to you?

“Don’t go getting any funny ideas,” You said quietly as you adjusted, tossing a leg over his hips and nuzzling your nose into his neck. “just 'cause you’re in my bed doesn’t mean you’re gonna get into my pants.”

“Y/N you’re not wearing any pants.” He couldn’t help himself from teasing you a little, even if you were too tired to appreciate it.

“Exactly.” Connor wished there was a way he could say “?????” but it didn’t translate well into audio, so he stayed silent. It didn’t take very long for him to register your soft breaths against his collarbone and confirm you were asleep, but he was faced with the problem of finding a less awkward position for himself, pinned to the bed by your limbs.

And since you were asleep, he let his guard down a little and did something he wouldn’t dream of doing with you conscious; he placed a light kiss on the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you, tracing little patterns into your back to entertain himself.

“Hey Y/N?” He said softly, more tenderly than you’d ever heard him before. If you were even slightly awake it might’ve even made you swoon.

“Yeah?” You whispered into him and he swore he felt the words crawl up his synthetic skin with a shiver.

“I hope you like the feel of my jacket, it’s made of boyfriend material.”

#dbh #dbh connor #detroit become human #insp

7K notes · View notes