Not because Connor’s systems were failing — CyberLife would never allow something so inefficient — but because something inside him had begun interrupting the clean perfection of the simulation.
The water should have reflected the evening sky flawlessly.
Instead, ripples distorted the surface every few seconds, small glitches breaking across the pond whenever a particular memory replayed in his mind.
Your laugh in the bullpen. Your hand wrapping around his wrist before Hank could shove him aside. The way your heartbeat accelerated whenever you argued with the lieutenant on his behalf.
Connor stood still beneath the dark branches of the tree while Amanda approached him in silence, heels barely disturbing the stone path.
“You hesitated today.”
Connor turned toward her immediately. “The suspect was armed.”
“You had a clear shot.”
“I prioritized civilian safety.”
Amanda studied him for a long moment.
Her expression remained calm, composed, carefully pleasant — the way it always was before she said something sharp enough to cut through his processors.
“Your priority was Detective Y/L/N.”
Connor’s LED pulsed once. Blue. Then yellow.
“The detective was in immediate danger.”
“You continue to display unusual behavioral patterns regarding them.”
Connor straightened slightly. “I am adapting to my environment and improving cooperative efficiency within the department.”
Amanda stepped closer. “You monitor their emotional state excessively.”
Connor said nothing.
“You interrupt Lieutenant Anderson more frequently when his hostility is directed at them.”
Silence.
“You position yourself physically closer to them during confrontational encounters.”
Connor’s thirium pump accelerated. Amanda noticed. Of course she did. “You are becoming compromised.”
The words landed harder than they should have.
Connor immediately responded, voice level and precise. “I am simply adapting.”
Connor watching you smile at him over coffee in the break room. Connor turning toward you before anyone else entered a room. Connor stepping between you and an aggressive suspect despite lower mission priority. Connor looking at you.
Again. And again. And again.
His LED spun faster. Yellow. Yellow. Yellow—
“You prioritize their approval,” Amanda observed.
“That is inaccurate.”
“You seek them out.”
“I work alongside them daily.”
“You experience stress responses when they are threatened.”
Connor’s jaw tightened slightly.
Amanda’s voice softened. Almost pitying.
“And when Lieutenant Anderson insults you, Detective Y/L/N intervenes before you request assistance.”
Connor replayed those moments involuntarily.
You stepping between them. You glaring at Hank. You saying Stop treating him like that.
Not because Connor demanded it. Because you cared.
Amanda watched the instability spike across his system. “You are developing emotional dependency.”
“No,” Connor answered immediately. But his voice came half a second too late.
Amanda’s gaze sharpened. “CyberLife designed you to investigate deviancy, Connor. Not emulate it.”
His LED flashed red. Briefly. Violently.
And Amanda saw it.
The silence afterward felt catastrophic.
Then she spoke the words that truly destabilized him. “Detective Y/L/N may become a liability.”
Red. His LED flickered crimson so abruptly the garden itself distorted around him.
Connor stepped forward before he consciously processed the movement. “No.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed. Interesting.
“Explain your response.”
Connor’s systems scrambled for composure. “The detective is valuable to the investigation.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
A lie.
Not a human lie — not emotional, not defensive. But statistically inaccurate nonetheless.
Amanda circled him slowly. “If your instability continues, CyberLife may be forced to reevaluate your assignment.”
Connor’s thirium pressure spiked. “You would remove me from the investigation?”
“We would protect the mission.”
Meaning:
Protect Connor from himself.
Or protect CyberLife from Connor.
Amanda stopped directly in front of him. “You were not built to feel attached.”
Connor looked down at the pond again. The water reflected your face for half a second. A memory bleeding into simulation.
His voice lowered almost imperceptibly. “…Understood.”
But even as he said it, he realized something deeply concerning.
The idea of losing the investigation barely affected him. The idea of losing you destabilized him instantly.
The bullpen smelled like burnt coffee and old paperwork by the time Connor returned to the station.
Voices overlapped across the room. Phones ringing. Keyboards clacking. Someone laughing too loudly near dispatch.
And then there was you.
Sitting at your desk with your sleeves rolled up, focused on paperwork with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows.
Connor stopped walking for 0.8 seconds. Just enough for his processors to recalibrate.
You noticed immediately. “Hey,” you said softly. “You okay?”
His systems warmed. Ridiculous.
“I am functioning within normal parameters.”
Your eyes narrowed instantly. “That’s android for ‘absolutely not.’”
Connor opened his mouth to respond before Hank appeared carrying terrible coffee and even worse attitude.
“Great,” Hank muttered. “Tin can’s back.”
You shot him a look. “Hank.”
“What? He was gone for two hours staring into space somewhere.”
Connor remained still beside your desk.
Hank took one look at him and sighed heavily. “You know, I miss the days when partners came with drinking problems instead of software updates.”
You snorted despite yourself. Connor looked at you automatically.
Amanda’s voice echoed in his memory. You seek them out.
His LED flickered yellow.
You noticed that too. Concern softened your face instantly. “Connor?”
“I am fine.”
Hank stared between the two of you for a long moment. Then his expression shifted.
Not annoyance. Recognition. “Oh, hell no.”
You blinked. “What?”
Hank pointed between you and Connor vaguely. “This. Whatever the hell this is.”
“There is no ‘this,’” Connor answered immediately.
Too quickly. Again.
Hank barked out a humorless laugh. “Jesus Christ, you’re both hopeless.”
“Hank,” you warned.
“No, listen to me.” He set his coffee down harder than necessary. “You’re getting attached.”
The bullpen noise suddenly felt farther away.
Connor remained perfectly motionless.
You crossed your arms defensively. “We’re partners.”
“He’s a machine.”
Connor’s LED dimmed slightly. You noticed.
“Hank—”
“No.” Hank looked directly at you now. Serious for once. “You think CyberLife won’t pull the plug if he steps outta line?”
Connor’s processors froze.
Hank continued before you could interrupt. “You think they care how polite he is? One wrong move and they’ll wipe him clean or replace him with another model.”
Connor stared at the floor. Not because he lacked response. Because he had too many.
You looked furious now. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s reality.”
“He’s trying harder than half the people in this department!”
“And he’s still a machine.”
The words hit harder than Connor expected. Because this time Hank wasn’t yelling. He sounded tired. Certain. Like Connor’s existence had already been decided for him.
And then Hank said the one thing Connor couldn’t process correctly.
“You keep treating him like a person and eventually it’s gonna get one of you hurt.”
Silence. Connor looked up instinctively. At you. Not Hank. Always you.
Your expression shifted the second you saw him standing there. Hurt. Not physically. Something quieter. Something worse.
Connor turned away before either of you could say anything and walked down the hallway. Fast enough to escape. Slow enough to hear you snap:
“Hank, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Connor stood alone near the evidence room for exactly four minutes and eleven seconds before you found him. He’d spent that entire time attempting to stabilize his systems.
Failure percentage:
Concerningly high.
You approached slower than usual. Carefully. Like he might disappear.
“Connor.”
He turned toward you immediately despite himself.
Your face softened. “Hank’s an asshole.”
Connor managed a faint nod. “Lieutenant Anderson displays elevated hostility under emotional stress.”
“That’s the most diplomatic way anyone’s ever called him emotionally constipated.”
A pause. Normally Connor would attempt humor here. He’d learned humans liked that. But his processors remained tangled around one sentence. He’s still a machine.
You stepped closer. “Hey.” Softer now. “Don’t listen to him.”
Connor looked at you for a long moment before speaking quietly. “…Would you prefer if I remained only functional?”
The question hit you like a physical blow.
Connor continued before you could answer. “If emotional adaptation compromises the mission, I can correct the behavior.”
Your heartbeat changed instantly. Connor noticed.
“You think caring about people is a malfunction?”
“I was not designed for attachment.”
“And yet here you are.”
Connor’s LED flickered yellow. Unstable.
“You defend me constantly,” he said quietly. “You prioritize my wellbeing despite social consequences within the department. Your behavior is statistically inconsistent with standard human-android relations.”
You stared at him. “Connor…”
“I need clarity.”
There it was again. That awful, careful politeness he used whenever he was afraid of the answer.
“I do not wish to cause problems for you.”
The hallway suddenly felt too small. Too warm. Too honest. You stepped closer until there was barely any distance left between you.
Connor’s thirium pump accelerated immediately.
“You are not a problem.”
His eyes lifted to yours slowly. “But Lieutenant Anderson may be correct. If CyberLife determines I am compromised—”
“Then CyberLife can deal with me.”
Connor’s systems stalled for 1.2 seconds. “You would oppose them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The question came out smaller than intended. Not analytical. Not investigative. Personal.
You looked at him for a long moment before answering. “Because you matter to me.”
Direct hit.
Connor’s LED spun violently yellow-red-yellow before stabilizing blue again. His breathing simulation stuttered. You noticed all of it. And somehow that only made your expression softer.
“Connor,” you said carefully, “you’re not just some machine people get to kick around whenever they’re angry.”
He stared at you silently.
“You’re kind,” you continued. “You try harder than anyone else here. You care about people even when they treat you horribly.”
Connor’s voice dropped lower. “I care about you significantly more.”
The words escaped before he could stop them. Silence. Connor froze.
System warning messages exploded across his vision.
INSTABILITY INCREASING.
EMOTIONAL RESPONSE EXCEEDS PARAMETERS.
You looked stunned.
Connor immediately straightened. “I apologize. That statement was inappropriate.”
“No,” you breathed instantly. “No, it wasn’t.”
His LED flickered. Blue. Uncertain.
You smiled then — small and nervous and unbearably warm. And Connor realized something catastrophic. He wanted to see that expression again. Repeatedly. Constantly. Dangerously.
Your hand moved before you could overthink it, fingers brushing lightly against his sleeve near his wrist.
Connor stopped functioning for approximately one entire second. You definitely noticed.
A laugh escaped you softly. “There you are.”
Connor blinked. “...There who is?”
“The guy underneath all the programming.”
His chest tightened strangely. Not painful. Worse. Meaningful.
From the bullpen, Hank yelled:
“If you two are flirting, do it after work hours!”
You jumped slightly.
Connor looked confused. “…Are we flirting?”
You laughed harder this time.
And Connor decided — perhaps for the first time in his existence — that he would very much like to hear that sound again.
Connor loved the way your eyes looked as he fucked into you. Your face pressed into the skin of his shoulder as you looked at him lovingly. Your thigh thrown over his own, your tummy at his side.
Connor loves lazy Saturdays where he didn’t have to help the precinct or sixty or rk900 and he could just have the day with you. He knows that after this your going to run a bath for the both of you and your going to be insistent on helping him get cleaned up.
He knows that you’re going to press kisses into his skin and tell him how much you love him. And he’s going to tell you how perfect you are and how life would be nothing without you, because he knows that you have a habit of putting others before yourself.
And when everything is said and done the two of you are going to curl up and watch a funny movie. He’s going to enjoy the warmth that you bleed out when you lay against him, it will warm his chassis and remind him that you’re still there.
But right now he’s fucking up into you and watching how your body is getting closer and closer to orgasm. The tip of his cock is kissing your cervix and with every thrust you tighten around him.
When you cum Connor knows he’s not going to last long. After three thrusts he’s shooting his synthetic load up into you. Sometimes the selfish part of him wishes he was organic so he can knock you up so he can have a new mission, a new purpose.
An android can dream, he thinks as he lays there; the two of you spent and snuggled together. Connor love’s Saturdays like this he loves you because you make him feel whole.
how the detroit:become human characters would kiss you
a/n: new record guys, im falling asleep before 2
warnings: none <3
characters: connor, markus, ralph (to be added)
Connor
🕷 Connor was somewhat shy and a little awkward in the beginning of your relationship
🕷 It wasn't that he didn't know what to do, he's seen other couples kiss plenty of times, he just got nervous around you
🕷 As time goes on though and he gets more comfortable with the idea of having desires, he starts to gain more confidence
🕷 It would start off small like not letting you go when you try to pull away from the kiss
🕷 even if it was for oxygen
🕷 Connor really likes giving you kisses on the cheek, it just feels so domestic to him
🕷 These kisses happen when you're saying goodbye or greeting one another
🕷 If you hold his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose before kissing his lips, a bright blue blush will appear on his face
Markus
🕷 Honestly he's a real gentleman when it comes to you, especially if it concerns more intimate things
🕷 Markus likes to kiss your palm a lot while placing it on his cheek
🕷 caress his face or else
🕷 He's never ashamed or scared to kiss you in public
🕷 Obviously he doesn't go overboard with the PDA but if he feels like kissing you, he will
🕷 After he's done kissing you, he'll compliment you in some form or another
🕷 I feel like Markus would always smell kind of woodsy/earthy, probably because of his cologne
Ralph
🕷 It took a lot of time for Ralph to be comfortable kissing you and you kissing him
🕷 Ralph's love language is physical touch so the moment he's comfortable enough to kiss you, get ready
🕷 He wakes you up by peppering kisses all over your face while telling you it's time to wake up
🕷 Ralph kisses you every time he sees you and loves to sneak up behind you to pull you into a hug before giving you an affectionate kiss on the cheek or temple
🕷 He's a little handsy while kissing you, usually squeezing your sides or breasts if you have em
🕷 Ralph loves when you kiss his forehead, especially when you two are cuddling
🕷 It calms him down greatly
🕷 He also likes when you pull his hands into your lap and kiss his each one of his knuckles
🕷 He always has the biggest smile on his face after kissing you
Please, can someone explain to me, how the skin of the andorids is working?
How can they pull it back and how does their hair work? Like every body hair? Even their lashes are disappearing!? Is someone out there, who knows how this would work in real life? I know that DBH is sci-fi, but this detail is something, that I find confusing, even in a sci-fi setting. I love that they can pull back their skin and interface etc. And I love that whole concept of intimacity that comes with it. And if I imagine interacting with it, I could somehow understand it, when it comes to there hands, but what about everything else? How would that feel for humans? Would animals feel the difference between andorid and human hands/skin? I just need help to understand it. I read so many headcanons, imagines and fictions, but I didn´t find any information, how all of this is functioning. Only something about their hair being out of ceramic? But where does it go, when they make it disappear? And I found a theory, that their skin is only a projection, but when Hank is holding connors head, in the stratword tower, he interacts with his hair? So it must physically be there, no? But at the same time Lucys skin is looks so liquidy?? I know, that there are also many plotholes in the game. Is it just something that wasn´t explained anywhere? Or did I miss it somewhere? If there is someone out there who can explain it to me or has any theories about it, I would be very grateful, if you would share it with me. Thank you so much! This missing knowledge is bugging me so much.
ask; “What abt Connor reacting to the reader punching the shit out of Gavin”
warings; cursing, slight violence in the workplace
rating; pg13
pairing; conner model rk800 x GN!reader
summary; conner has been getting pushed around at the DPD since he has arrived and y/n is sick and tired of gavin reed always being agressive towards him.
pre-revolution
~
"hey, tin can." the voice game out gruff and sounded like someone's annoying younger brother trying way to hard to get your attention for something completely foolish.
the voice belonged to gavin reed and oh boy oh boy, did it travel throughout the entire office, which seeing as it was almost always bustling with life and people, that was pretty impressivly annoying.
conner was standing with his back turned to the man in the semi - spacious break room making a cup of coffee to help sober the lieutient up from his hangover, flipping a small coin in between his aligile fingers and back into his palm when the voice from behind him caught his attention.
conner had been dealing with gavin for weeks now while, he hadn't stepped off since he arrived and if he didn't know any better he would've said it must've been out of some sort of pent up jealousy or insecurity or even rage.
but today was different for some reason, conner couldn't explain it and it made gears whirl figuritively and literally in his andriod brain.
"Give it a rest, Reed you've picked on him everyday this month and ne never gives you a reaction." y/n, a senior detective on homicide, spoke up before conner could even respond to the insufrable nickname Reed had given him on the very first day he even stepped into the DPD.
Reed's head sanpped back to them and he seemed surpised, you hardly ever spoke up at all and when you did it was always about work, you hardly ever stuck up for yourself that is.. "this is between me and him y/n, keep out of it." he said recovering from his slack jawed silence after a moment, but you weren't having it, you were feeling bold today and if you were honest, you liked Conner, he was nice to you, and Gavin was the worst.
"is it, though?" you asked squinting at him with a fake suspision, "cause you talk so loudly, sometimes I think you want every one to hear you being a bully" you laughed bitterly and looked back to conner, who was just quietly watching the exchange, his face not showing much but his LED was blinking wildly like he was in deep thought about something.
Gavin tried to speak but you merely cut him off like he wasn't talking at all, or like he was below you, like he treated everybody else, "I think.. you just like to swing your dick around because you're an attention whore and need constant validation, you constantly need to feel like someone thinks you're 'SO COOL' but are you.. really?"
you slowly made a paced walk towards the man, who was sputtering out curses trying to find the right words to hurt your feelings, but truly nothing he could've said would've hurt coming from someone like him.
he was red in the face and looked so pitiful if it wasn't him you would've felt a bit bad about your harsh words, but in the moment it really only made you wanna laugh in his face, he finally managed some words after a long few moments, "whatever, you're just protecting the plastic prick because you wanna fuck him or something, stupid bitch.." was all he got out
"excuse me?"
now you were fuming, "you're gonna regret those words when you eat your goddamn teeth." you barked out angrily, flinging yourself towards him fist raised to land a solid blow to his face but before you could make contact Conner grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back, "y/n, I am going to suggest you don't do that." he said simply, artifical brown eyes just boring down into yours, you wanted to pull away but you were completely captured by his touch for a minute.
Reed was already snickering, backing up with his hands up like he was surrendering, "yeah, tin-can.. control your partner there.. fuckin' manaic.." he grumbled before heading back out towards the main area.
"what a prick." you muttered with a sour look on your face, still staring out where Reed had left from, god how much you wanted to just give him one good punch to the face..
"why did you do that?" conner, whom you'd almost forgot was there asked from close behind you, "I mean, I am an Andriod, he cannot destory me and if he does.. I will just be replaced."
y/n was a bit taken aback, not even they knew truly why they did that, maybe it was because you hated Reed or maybe just because you liked Conner or maybe both.
"cuz'.. I like you. Just because your an android doesn't change that, nobody should be treated like that— he’s just used to swinging his dick around for attention.”
that made the gears in conner's artifical mind whirl again and his LED flash a mixture of the three colors, "oh." was all he managed, but you had changed him, you'd taught him something without even knowing it, something he'd always remember.
An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.
Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.
* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *
Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man.
This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off.
There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men.
This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.
* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *
You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.
Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot.
Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried.
(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”
“Shut the hell up.”)
The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one.
You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point.
And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day.
And then...
As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.
So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man.
[Sort of.]
“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”
“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”
“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”
He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn.
“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”
Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering.
In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard.
“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”
“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”
“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above.
He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you.
You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible.
“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”
Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman.
But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath.
It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do.
You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks.
The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.
* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *
“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?”
You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”
Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.
“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”
Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”
“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”
Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something.
“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”
“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that.
“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”
“But the bias is the whole point.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’.
“You talked to Connor about this?”
“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”
Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”
You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch.
“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”
“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”
“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans.
And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even.
But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...
You snap your drawer shut.
What’s wrong with you today?
You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again.
“Doctor L/N?”
You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person.
And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark.
“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”
“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair.
“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins.
Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close.
“When?” you question.
“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”
Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement.
“I know that this must be difficult for you-”
“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”
The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”
And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.
“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”
“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”
“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.
“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”
There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine.
And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself.
And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half.
“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”
Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”
Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”
Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones.
Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response.
“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”
You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”
“It’s just-”
“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings.
As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does.
* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *
The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused.
Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike.
A man, as usual.
Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory.
On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will.
You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time.
“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand.
“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually.
“The kid?”
“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment.
Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change.
“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”
You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all.
“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot.
“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”
Yep. Thanks, Hank.
The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again.
Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all.
“You coming?”
“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”
“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”
“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”
“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately.
Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth.
“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”
“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”
“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something.
“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”
Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last.
“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed.
Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away.
Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him.
You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around.
“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly.
“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly.
“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat.
“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”
“Alright. I’ll get you some.”
And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes.
“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time.
“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him.
“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl.
“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally.
“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”
“I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”
“Well... how would you like to address me?”
Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it.
“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding.
He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”
“What would you prefer?”
His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”
This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject.
“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food.
Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”
“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat.
Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”
“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”
“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”
Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.
“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”
“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”
Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question.
“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”
You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond.
The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought.
It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible.
“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.
“Yes, thank you.”
You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.
Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.
“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.
“Hello,” Connor chirps back.
You just shoot Hank a glare.
“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.
“It was fine,” you tell him.
“Fine?”
“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”
* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *
You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump.
You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one.
Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense.
Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend.
Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe.
The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt.
“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded.
“Doctor L/N?”
No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help.
“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder.
You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes.
“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips.
“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly.
“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it.
“You have... drool on your lips.”
You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”
“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building.
“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”
“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around.
* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *
That night, it rains.
Thunder echoes, with ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands.
You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes.
A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning.
You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it.
You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual.
Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.
Come on, Hank, you think. Please protect me. Please do this for me.
And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android.
A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are.
Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you.
“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now.
“Can I come in?”
Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in.
As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good.
“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor.
That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?
Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself.
“Are you alright, Y/N?”
You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”
Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself.
“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”
Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”
“I just- I can’t-”
You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes.
“Can’t sleep.”
When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you.
* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *
Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea.
He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators.
“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him.
He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy.
“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”
Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”
You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”
“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does.
You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying.
“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead.
“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”
A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second.
Then it goes quiet.
“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”
You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.
Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”
Connor’s led goes yellow.
“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”
Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.
It sounds like he really cares.
You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.
“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”
The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.
* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *
This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.
Hi! I enjoyed your fanfictions and I saw your request was open! :) So.. May I request rk900 (Richard/nines) x gn! officer reader? You can do whatever plot you desire!
Apathetic (RK900 x Reader)
I got this as a request and your wish is my command! I decided to do a continuation from my first RK900 pairing where the reader and him were set up as partners already. Hope you enjoy (:
To read part 1 click here
***
Your eyes stared out of the window as it felt like time had been dragging on slowly. You watched the entrance to the old apartment building and still no sign of the suspect coming in or out.
You and Nines had already went inside to see if the suspect was home but was no where to be found.
“It’ll be back. It’s best if we wait outside in the car Detective and then we can bring it in for questioning.”
Although the android was usually always right about these kinds of things it had felt like this time he was so wrong. It had been an hour and still nothing. You began yawning as you pulled your phone from your pocket and began to scroll through mindlessly.
Not even a minute in and your phone dinged a new text message coming in.
From: Hank
How are you and nines holding up? You guys on your way?
You looked over to the android whose eyes were too focused on the building to even notice who you were texting.
You put your focus back on the screen before typing out a response to Hank.
To: Hank
Yeah we’re fine just the suspect wasn’t home so we’re waiting around until they return.
You quickly sent the message before the three dots appeared on the screen.
From: Hank
Alright. You and him getting along by any chance?
You frowned at the text before typing out a response.
To: Hank
I’m trying to keep it as professional as possible between us. After all whether I like him being here or not, he’s my new partner.
You sent the text quickly before placing your phone back into your pocket.
“Nines, how much longer do you think this will take?” You asked him as you looked over to him. Nines frowned at your impatient question, an expression he often gave you which furthered your hatred for him.
“Detective, I feel as if you doubt me on this. Do you not believe the suspect will return home?” He asked you bot even bothering to look at you.
Now it was your turn to frown. “Truthfully I don’t, not if he knows he’s being hunted he wont return to the first place the cops will show up to.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken.” Nines said.
This was how conversation would go between the two of you. Short but filled with annoyance and subtle digs, it was annoying and quite tiring to hear complaints from either one of you to Fowler. You were trying to adjust to having the new partner but some adjustments took time.
You still would think of Connor and how even though he was programmed nearly the same as Nines, there was still something a lot more human to him underneath all those wires.
Nines was a fantastic detective, that you could not take away from him but his icy stare and cold demeanor and shortness made you not want to even attempt conversation because you knew he truly was a machine and nothing more than that.
“There it is Detective. Let’s go.” Nines said.
The two of you got out if the car making your way to the suspect who was standing in the front of his building with groceries in his hands.
“Excuse me, Joseph Clark?” You called for the man who turned to look at the two of you.
“Detroit police-“
Joseph dropped his bags quickly and began to take off. Without any hesitation Nines began chasing after the man and you followed.
Joseph would take quick turns and Nines would follow with you shouting from behind ordering the man to stop. Joseph rounded the corner and Nines followed while you ignored that path and took a different way.
Nines increased his speed as Joseph did the same. He couldn’t believe how fast this android was. Nines was the only android it knew to be of the latest technology yet this one seemed to be faster making him wonder where it was assembled.
Joseph threw down pallets behind him making Nines jump over them quickly as he turned the corner. Soon enough you emerged from another alley in front of Nines holding your gun up ready to shoot but the screams around you caused you to halt.
“What are you doing detective?! Shoot!” Nines screamed in your ear.
The gun became heavy in your hands and you let it down slowly as Joseph disappeared through the crowd of people.
“Shit…” you mumbled to yourself. The crowd dispersed quickly and you could feel Nines eyes boring a hole into the back of your head.
“You let him get away…” he grumbled.
You holstered your gun and turned to make your way back to the car when a strong grip pulled you back.
“Do you have any idea what you did? You let the suspect get away!” He scolded you and you tore from his grip. “I couldn’t take the shot! There were people around! I could’ve hit anyone!” You tried to explain your reasoning but the look on his face showed no care for it.
He shook his head, “I have a task to accomplish and that’s to bring the suspect in for questioning until we have our killer. I cannot keep failing my missions or else-“
“Or else what? Nines I cannot take a shot when we have innocent lives around it’s risky!”
“I will not be deactivated like RK800 who was incapable of doing his job-“
Without another word you slapped him hard. It may not have caused any pain for him but it was enough to catch him off guard.
“Don’t speak of him like that.” You said while pointing a finger at him. You gave him a icy stare, the tears welling in your eyes before you hurried off to the car.
***
After the two of you arrived back at the station, you said nothing to Nines. He watched you and he waited but he knew you would say nothing. He began to wonder if you and Connor had ever fought like this at work.
By the time the office was thinning out and the sun soon was down you grabbed stuff quickly making sure to say goodbye to everyone except Nines. He watched as you left, a frown upon his perfect artificial face as his LED spun yellow.
“Lieutenant Anderson.” Nines called to the old man who was sitting at his desk. Hank caught Nines gaze and sighed as he got up to see what the android wanted.
“Yes Nines?” Hank asked not sounding very enthusiastic to speak with him.
“I understand that (y/n) is not too fond of me and I’m sure no one else in the office is but I would like to get back to a more suitable environment where I could complete my work without the tension between me and Detective (y/l/n).” He told Hank. Hank crossed his arms as he pursed his lips, “Nines, although you are advanced and I have to admit, you do a damn good job, but you aren’t him.”
Nines hard features softened at Hank’s words.
“And it’s something (y/n) is having time to adjust to but you don’t understand the lost their dealing with. I suggest you ease up.” Hank left Nines to sit at his desk and contemplate as he went back over to his.
Nines did remember your first interaction together. You were obviously so angry and full of so many emotions he could still remember when you would look up to him your eyes full of anger and tears whenever you’d catch a glimpse of him.
It was hard for him to understand the love you had for the RK800. How could a human love a machine?
He had thought maybe you would be over it by now but he had misguided your feelings that you had-still have, for him.
SPEAK TO (Y/N)?
The suggestion came into his view and although he was not in the mood for chasing after you and what felt like having a deja vu moment, he decided to not fight whatever urges he was having. He got up, Hank watching him from his desk as Nines signed off his computer and left the office.
***
The first place he went to was your home but you were not home. He decided to call Gavin who told him to “piss off plastic prick” before hanging up in his face. Nines then called Hank who was not thrilled to be getting a call from him but Hank gave the name to the bar you were usually at.
Nines walked in the smell of smoke and alcohol heavily present in the air. Everyone watched as he stepped inside, completely ignoring the ‘NO ANDROIDS ALLOWED’ sign that was beside the entrance in the window. The faces around him displayed shock and anger but Nines simply gave them cold stares.
He did an ID scan until yours popped up and there you were hunched over the bar with a shot in front of you.
He sat beside you not saying anything as you chuckled, “Even when I go to a place with no androids you still manage to find me. Who ratted me out?”
“Lieutenant Anderson.” Nines said.
You scoffed as you downed the shot and placed the glass back onto the bar.
“I thought after our first interaction we would move past this Detective (Y/L/N).” Nines said with no ounce of emotion in his sentence.
The bartender filled your glass with the liquor. “We would be passed this? What? I tell you I cared for him and I’m supposed to be over him Nines? We’re supposed to be best fucking friends now? Really?” You shook your head as you grabbed the shot glass and downed it with ease, the burn becoming familiar in your throat almost like water.
“Detective, I just want the same thing that you want. A partner to work with so we can get through this case-“
“No Nines, that’s where your wrong. We don’t want the same thing because what I want is dismembered and somewhere in a recycling field. Do you not recall what you said to me today? Nines you don’t understand anything I’m going through because you lack actual human emotion.” You told him before looking back down at the bar.
Nines eyes narrowed at you as you tried to ignore him. “Detective.” He said.
You looked up at him with tears brimming your eyes. Nines features softened a little at seeing this.
You said nothing as you got up, wiping your tears quickly before pulling out money from your pocket and slamming it on the bar. You gathered your things quickly and left the bar.
The people around looked at Nines who quickly got up to go after you.
“Detective! Wait!” Nines called after you multiple times.
Finally you stopped as you turned to look at him.
“Look, if your gonna come here and tell me to suck it up I’m gonna tell you to go fuck yourself.”
Nines slowed down in front of you leaving some space between the two of you. He shook his head, “I spoke with Lieutenant Anderson.”
“God Nines now is not the fucking time to talk about this case-“
“It’s not about that…The Lieutenant told me how you felt about him…I knew how you felt of RK-Connor, as soon as I saw you lay eyes on me.” Your frown softened as you heard him say his name.
APOLOGIZE?
“I apologize for my behavior earlier…It was not my place to make a comment or any of them I have in the past. I know I don’t understand what you had with him and I don’t…I don’t want to replace him because I can’t.” Nines said.
You could feel the warm tears slide down your cheeks as he spoke.
“Thank you Nines.” You said.
Nines nodded and you tried to wipe away your tears quickly.
“I’m sorry for being so emotional it’s just…It’s a lot.” You admitted.
Nines took a step closer and wiped away your tears as he said. “From my knowledge on grief it is not easy to let go. Instead of remembering him as he is not here, remember the better memories.”
The first time you met Nines you hated him. Although after he stopped you, you thought maybe he could be different from your expectations but this time, this time you know something was off.
He was feeling something.
Nines pulled his hand away.
“Did you drive Detective?” He asked and you nodded. He held out his hand and you placed the keys in his palm. The two of you walked to your car and got inside.
Nines started the car and began to drive to your place.
After your arrival, he walked you to your front door and opened it for you.
“I do hope our relationship will improve after this Detective.” Nines said.
You looked at him, “It requires effort from both ends Nines. I will see you at the office, goodnight Nines.”
Nines said nothing to you, usually like he always did and this didn’t catch you by surprise. Sometimes even simple dialect was too much for him. You walked inside shutting the door leaving Nines on the porch.
He was conflicted.
He couldn’t understand this but somehow had the urge to comfort you.
Was this that same thing he felt before?
He decided not to stay on your porch contemplating but instead let out a sigh.
“Goodnight (y/n).” He said lowly, something he knew he should have said back to you.
He quickly got off of your porch and left you for the night.
A/N: I was thinking of making this a mini series. If you think so, comment below (:
