He is Connor|Detroit: Become Human|Connor x Reader (Neutral). And RK900.
A/N: Requested by- @autumnboze00
Thank you for requesting! This is probably the longest piece I have written ever. Also, I must warn you that you may get confused if I suddenly change from you to them when referring to the reader since it is in third person. This shouldn’t be a problem when I revise it later on.
It’s so good to have broken out of the writer’s block. I honestly was so miserable xD.
Warnings: RK900 (I feel I made him a bit psychopathic here. Forgive me.)
Connor x Reader (Neutral)
Summary: It wasn’t difficult to see that he was taking advantage of those memories, moments and inside jokes that a month ago would’ve made them smile but now stabbed a knife in their stomach deeply, gripping the handle and twisting it just to see (Y/N) grimace.
“An android that fell in love with a human. Who would’ve thought?”
“First thing tomorrow (Y/N), I promise.”
“No buts now. We’ve been postponing this for too long.”
“I know. And I’m terribly sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”
Three hours in (Y/N)’s shift the next day were enough to tell them something was just not right. The air had a tense quality to it, unconsciously putting everyone on an edge for some reason. It just felt so... wrong.
When he walked in, your suspicions turned into facts, sending you into a light panicked state. It probably shouldn’t have caused any problems, it was still him after all. Just bolder, stiffer, monotonous and... unsettling. A mirror image of your colleague, friend and partner. But... this side of the mirror wasn’t inviting.
“Detective (Y/L/N).” (Y/N) straightens up, hands hovering with uncertainty over the transparent keyboard of their terminal. Heartrate picks up, pressing uncomfortably against their chest. Twisted knots of fear settle deep in their stomach. There was no reason for them to fear, this was Connor, their Connor. Yet why was (Y/N) feeling so cold?
“It’s me, Connor. The renewed and updated version: RK900. I didn’t mean to make you wait. I guarantee it will not be repeated again.”
(Y/N) tenses up at the trickle of words that emerge from the android’s mouth and pour into their ears like needles. At the sight of them slowly clenching closed their hands, the android shifts, leaning over and next to (Y/N), planting a hand over the smooth surface of their desk. The RK900 doesn’t stop there, moving in, tilting his head to the side slowly to get a clear vision of (Y/N).
“You can trust me when I say this-“ The beginning of their name lays on the tip of his tongue, unpronounced. His eyes lock into theirs, brows lower than usual and blue eyes shining with the glint of the office lights above them. “I’m still the same Connor. Same memories...” His hand reaches for theirs and they still, a shiver running up their legs and spine to transform into an anxious ball that collectively impacts against their resolve.
“Same ideas...” His fingers come in contact with (Y/N)’s, settling over their hand lightly. His thumb delicately strokes over their wrist and without warning, turns their hand to face upwards, continuing his feather-like trail in a fascinated exploration. His touch trascended from wrist to palm, the tips brandishing hotly over the expanse of soft skin.
(Y/N) was sure he could feel the erratic beating of their heart, lips quirking up in a pleased demeanor. His LED blinked with a passive blue, and as he interwined his own fingers with theirs, they caught his words. Barely, in a hushed reassurance.
“And same desires.” He drawled out silkily, enough to make (Y/N) push their chair back and stand up, the screech loud enough to call the attention of busy workers surrounding them. Their chest heaved deeply, bottom lip quivering in their restraint to fight back the tears. They would not let themselves cry in front of him- they didn’t know what to call him anymore.
That wasn’t Connor. No matter the looks, voice, or the fact that he had his memories. The android (Y/N) used to admire was just not there.
And just like that, the moment was over. When (Y/N) opened their eyes, it was to see the retreating back of Connor, strutting with arms bent behind his back and chin held up high.
(Y/N) dropped back on their chair heavily, pressing a hand up in the crease of their brows as a killer migraine made itself known.
Fuck Cyberlife and their ability to replicate their models down to the last detail.
“Here are the reports to the investigation, everything you need to know. From the victim ID to what we’ve found in the systems. The crime scene is yours, I’m taking a break.” Wilson placed a thick folder on their stretched out palm, giving them an incline of his head before disappearing through the door.
(Y/N) eyed the contents of the folder, grimacing at the details they had at their disposal. No matter how long they had been working at DPD, they would never get over the gruesome murders, blood and guts spilled on otherwise unconspicuous places. It made them shake their head in disbelief, the extent and savagery that some people and androids reached whether empty handed or weilding a weapon was enough to make them lose a bit more of the faith they had for humanity and the world.
Detroit’s afternoon showers were blocked out from the inside of the house as the door creaked shut. (Y/N)’s shoes thunked against the old wooden floor, the door just as worn away with wood chips actually brittling away at the barest of contact. The house was relatively old, clearly unkempt. It wasn’t difficult to imagine that it could’ve been a very homey place if one was to erase all the damage, moss and soot covering the walls.
The detective shut the folder with a clasp and set to work, starting a slow trek through the house. There was blood- well- practically everywhere, and a simple glance at the ceiling confirmed that the range of blood spill had been brutal enough to reach that location alone.
The victim alone was the worst part, as it was in every crime scene (Y/N) has been present throughout all their career as a detective. The body was shredded to pieces, half of the body, from chest to navel ripped out messily. The limbs stretched out in a contorted sprawl, making (Y/N) briefly imagine the theatrics of a clay representation of the victim, being shot down —as reports claimed— and falling like a ragged doll until formig a bloody heap on the ground.
That raised the question as to why the murderer would aim to pluck out flesh when the person was already dead.
This was no job for a squeamish being. Upon investigating, personal matters disappeared mid air and clearly the department’s superiors wouldn’t give a damn whether seeing raw, putrid flesh spread out across the floor made them sick. What mattered was to get the job done, and (Y/N) understood that perfectly.
A flash of black, white and blue caught their attention. (Y/N)’s eyes flickered once, confirming the identity of the person -or rather android- that had moved to stand right besides them. They crossed their arms over their chest and decidedly glared at the corpse as if it was the root of all their problems.
“Gruesome I’d say.” The android is tilting his head, as if examining the bloodied body in front of him like an extravagant piece of art. Connor’s words are borderline to sounding psychopathic, (Y/N) would say. It wasn’t as if the man found the dead body pleasing, he just seemed to look at it with an unsettling fascination.
Could an android actually be psychopathic?
(Y/N) is adamant in keeping silent, mouth pressed tightly shut, afraid that if they didn’t, they would just quiver.
Because it has been three weeks since they last saw their Connor and it has been the most suffering, hurting and destroying weeks they have ever been through. When (Y/N) first had seen him, they harboured hope within themselves, thinking that maybe- maybe his appearance and clothes were the only thing that changed, that he would still be the soft, kind and caring android that (Y/N) had grown to love more than anything.
In the end, that hope had crumbled.
Avoiding the RK900 wasn’t an option as his purpose, clearly, was to aid the detectives of DPD with cases.
“You know, detective, ignoring my presence is becoming tiresome.”
But that chemistry that existed between them and Connor, the company they offered each other and the many small details that without fail made (Y/N)’s days better, simply didn’t exist anymore. And damn that bastard knew very well where to poke and jab to incite a reaction from (Y/N).
“But on the other hand... I must say this whole experience has been... quite enlightening.”
It wasn’t difficult to see that he was taking advantage of those memories, moments and inside jokes that a month ago would’ve made them smile but now stabbed a knife in their stomach deeply, gripping the handle and twisting it just to see (Y/N) grimace.
“An android that fell in love with a human. Who would’ve thought?”
He had them bleeding out with his own hands.
“I have to hand it to Connor though. An android working for Detroit Police Department that went deviant and completely backed off from his programmed principles? Not everyone has the guts to go against their creator.”
I have to hand it to Connor though.
All thoughts simultaneously halted in their run, punching (Y/N)’s breath out. Their form stilled, hands balling into fists with anger, fear, and confusion.
That was not their Connor.
That was not (Y/N)’s Connor...
A pair of hands wrapped around their own, shaking the file off them and pulling (Y/N) close to him. If he weren’t an android, (Y/N) would have felt his breath, close, probably warm from the proximity. The RK900 had a cold body, yet emitted small waves of warmth that couldn’t compare to real body heat.
“I don’t like it.” His grip was turning skin preassure white, finger lifting and lowering to get a tighter hold on their hands. (Y/N) tried pulling away, but as she already knew, they wouldn’t be able to do so, rendering them helpless. There was no competition in between the strength of an android to them.
(Y/N)’s confidence wavered, and felt the tight lacings of panic making her legs shake. Their head tipped back, the pain intensifying every passing second, choking back a whimper that would just show their weakness.
“I don’t like it.” He repeated robotically, brows further dipping to end with a narrow of his eyes. Like a predator wondering what it would do next with its prey.
Days after, that expression still woke (Y/N) up in a sweat.
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