where connor worries too much about your habit of sleeping at work.
word count - 1.4k
warnings: mentions of struggling to sleep (not sure if that’s a warning but no harm in putting it here)
masterlist
it had been meeting after meeting — multiple, similar conversations about how to deal with deviants. how to interrogate them, prosecute them, even how to defend yourself against an android.
each one was the same.
hence why you saw no issue in quietly dozing off for a few minutes.
or maybe an hour.
“detective.” a soft, quiet whisper, followed by a gentle judge to your arm.
a groan escapes you, you’re not ready to wake up yet. not ready to listen to more rambling about incorrect techniques or whatever they said…
“detective, you might want to wake up.” the tone is still calming. “captain fowler is staring.”
and with that one comment, you gradually sit up straight, removing your head off connor’s shoulder.
“sorry, captain.” you nod curtly, voice rasped as your hands wipe at your eyes.
hank holds back a chuckle from your other side — you’re surprised he managed to stay awake during these meetings too.
with one last stern look, your captain gets back to talking and all the other officers, sergeants and whatnots turn back to him as well.
you just yawn, way too tired to feel embarrassed.
connor leans closer to you, mumbling quietly again, "l/n, do you require a coffee?"
you stare back at him, eyebrows furrowed, "hm?"
"coffee." he repeats, "since you keep falling asleep."
"oh," you smile softly at him, "no, it's okay, thanks connor."
his led flashes yellow briefly before he sits straighter, “if you say so, detective.”
you watch him for a moment longer, taking note of how caring he is for an android — especially when you’re constantly getting told that they can’t feel things.
connor has only been here for a month and he’s already made you doubt that statement on multiple occasions.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
it didn’t take long before you were back at your desk, hands cradling your head and eyes squeezed shut.
thankfully you didn’t have much work to do today. at least, you don’t think you do.
you were enjoying the deep slumber, that was until a certain coin-flicking robot decided to shake you awake.
“connor,” you groan tiredly, hands blindly pushing his solid body away, alas, he doesn’t budge. “give me five more minutes.” you ask, relenting your hands back to cover your head.
“you’ve had a total of two hours of sleep today already — bear in mind, you’ve been in the precinct for four hours.” he states simply, as though tracking how long you’ve slept was what he was designed for. “you need to start working.”
you wish you had another set of hands to cover your ears. “too tired.”
he sighs.
since when could androids do that?
“detective,” his tone is stern now, “your lunch break is in one hour, i suggest you fill out some reports and sleep afterwards.”
when you don’t move, head still glued to the table, he takes one glance at hank — who’s only smirking at the whole altercation — and decides to take things into his own hands.
he pulls a random chair up and slides next to yours.
then, he starts jabbing your bicep with his pointer finger, like an eager toddler demanding attention.
“connor.” a gentle warning. although, it’s more of a disguised plea.
“not stopping until you sit up and log onto your computer.”
a few more agitating seconds pass by before you give up.
you take your time sitting up, typing in your password, and opening up some reports — just to annoy connor.
a smile graces his face, “was that so hard?”
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
he didn’t leave your side. not even when you needed to go to the toilet — he waited outside, but that still felt like he was right there with you.
he claimed it was so that you wouldn’t fall asleep again, which didn’t happen, thanks to him.
you were excited for lunch. excited for the small nap you could fit in. however, connor had other plans.
“detective, i can’t let you sleep, especially since you haven’t eaten all day.” his eyes look at you with so much concern
“but you said if i did my work i could sleep at lunch.” you whine.
“i was only negotiating with you. now come on, i know a great place for burgers.” he pulls you up off your chair by your hand, tugging you towards the exit.
“how do you know of good food places? you don’t even eat…” you query out loud.
he shrugs, hand still attached to yours as you now leave the station. “hank eats.”
that explains it.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
it didn’t take all that long to reach the burger stand — and you have to admit, it was good.
you’re both sat on a bench, overlooking a river as it slowly frosts over.
connor thinks it’s peaceful. he notes how still you’ve become. how your heart rate has decreased to a gentle thrum. how low your cortisol levels have dropped.
he’s slightly amazed that you’re not asleep.
yet. there’s still time.
he takes the quiet opportunity to ask you some questions. “y/n…”
he waits for you to look at him first.
“what’s up?” your response is soft. gentle.
he purses his lips — a habit you think he’s obtained from you. “why do you have such troubles staying awake?”
your stress levels increase slightly.
“i just- i don’t get much sleep at home.” a simple answer.
he nods, pretending to understand. “how so?” his voice stays hushed.
his eyes track how you begin to fidget with your fingers.
“it’s embarrassing…”
he shakes his head, placing his hand on top of yours to stop you from fidgeting. “if it’s giving you issues, it can’t be embarrassing. i would never judge you, y/n.”
he says the latter with such sincerity that you would mistake him for a human had you not known he was an android.
then you look at his eyes. they look more human than most.
his led flashes again, awaiting your response.
a sigh escapes your mouth. “i get nightmares most nights. every night, really.”
his thumb begins to stroke circles across the back of your hand — a tactic he’d just searched up to help people calm down. “are they of anything in particular?”
you have to think for a moment, recall every night. then you shake your head, “no. maybe it’s just because of the job?”
“could be.” he comments, actively wracking every website page he can access that mentions ‘nightmares’. he’d do anything to help you.
you shuffle closer to him on the bench, gradually beginning to feel the brisk, winter air.
“an article says that having a companion with you can help to reduce nightmares.” he suggests, “have you ever tried that?”
instantly you shake your head, a laugh leaving you too, “i don’t know anyone who would willingly stay over at mine.”
“i would. to help you, of course.”
your heart beats a bit faster.
he notices.
“i mean- if you wanted to- if it helps, right?”
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
so now here you are, you and connor both sat awkwardly on your bed.
“maybe close your eyes.” he attempts to help but it just sounds like teasing.
you move under your covers, connor copying, “do you know how to turn off your sarcasm?” you jab back.
“sorry, i’m just trying to help.” he absentmindedly moves closer and simultaneously makes you feel bad.
“i was just playing with you, connor.”
“oh.” he looks around your room, “do you need me to turn the lamp off?”
“uhm, sure, thank you.”
he leans over you to reach the switch, flicking it off before laying back down, now even closer to you.
“would you like me to tell you a story?” he whispers.
“no, it’s okay.” you mumble.
“you’re already feeling tired.” he states with a small, successful smile on his face.
you shuffle your head across your pillow, making contact with his chest as you relax into him. “maybe because you kept me up all day.”
much to his surprise, he enjoys the human contact. maybe that’s because it’s you. he wouldn’t enjoy it if hank were sleeping in his arms instead of you.
he quickly blinks that picture away.
gently, he wraps an arm around you, soothingly rubbing your back.
you’re out before you know it.
if connor had a heart, it would be melting. your soft snores take over his hearing. the smell of your shampoo filling his senses.
but it’s not until he looks down at your sleeping face to see your hand clutching onto his top, your face completely relaxed — that’s when he feels it.
love, maybe?
is that something an android can feel?
the room faintly lights up red as he ponders. it quickly returns to blue when he focuses back on you.
he doesn’t care about what he can and can’t feel- not right now- not when he’s got you.
You weren’t expecting the newest member of the investigation team to be… well, that.
The body was still warm, crime scene tape fluttering under the breeze. You crouched by the blood spatter with your kit open and gloves on, halfway through swabbing a sample when someone stepped beside you.
You glanced up and saw a man in a gray suit, LED blinking a soft blue at his temple. Handsome in a very uncanny way. That was fine. You’d worked with androids in the lab before. But none of them did what he did next.
He knelt, dipped two fingers into the blood near the body, and brought them to his lips like a chef tasting sauce.
"Uh… what?" you breathed, turning to your coworker in disbelief. "He does that?"
Your coworker just shrugged, clearly less phased. "Yeah. That's Connor. The deviant hunter."
"He eats blood?"
"Tastes. It's analysis."
"That's somehow worse."
Connor stood up as if he hadn't just played vampire detective in front of a room full of forensic professionals. "The victim's blood contains traces of acetaminophen, ethanol, and—"
"Yep, noted!" you cut in. “Thanks. That’s helpful. Very… thorough.”
Despite the weird first impression, you didn’t mind working with him. Android or not, if he got results, you were willing to overlook the creepy snack habits. It wasn’t like your job wasn’t already morbid.
Still, it was hard to ignore the way he kept watching you.
On the way back to the precinct, you headed down the hallway, only to glance over your shoulder and find him—again—two steps behind you. Not saying anything. Like a baby duck. A six-foot, combat-trained, crime-solving baby duck.
You stopped. He stopped.
You turned. “Connor” you said, “are you following me?”
“I was assigned to work with you on this investigation.” he replied, like that explained everything. “It is logical to stay close.”
“Okay, sure. But maybe not this close? Personal space is a thing.”
“I can adjust the distance. Would one meter be more comfortable?”
“…Better. Yes. Please do that.”
He took exactly two steps back and resumed following.
You sighed, walking forward again. “God, it’s like working with a Roomba that solves murders.”
“I can also climb stairs.”
You couldn’t help it, you laughed. Maybe this partnership was going to be weirder than you thought.
---
Life had gotten eerily calm.
You didn’t hate it, most of your work was automatic now. The machines did the sample analysis, typed the reports, catalogued the evidence. You were basically a highly trained paperweight with a badge and a backlog of true crime podcasts.
That is, until Connor showed up.
“Another deviant case?” you asked, barely glancing up from your coffee.
“Yes,” he said. “I believe your presence is required.”
You squinted at him. “Connor, there are already human officers on the scene.”
He blinked. “Yes. But they are not you.”
“Wow, I feel so special.”
“You should,” he said seriously. “You’re the most efficient forensic technician I’ve worked with.”
Flattery from an android shouldn’t feel flattering, but somehow… it did. Not that it excused how he treated you like his own personal human sidekick.
The case turned out to be a messy one. Android on android crime.
You were just about to pull samples from the synthetic blood splashed on the wall when you caught Connor again—kneeling. Hand up. Tongue out.
“Connor, no!” You pointed at him like a dog with its nose in the trash.
He froze, fingers hovering midair.
“You don’t have to taste it.”
“But—”
“You’re not starving. You’re not a wine connoisseur. You’re a million-dollar machine and I swear to God if you start licking that coolant I will throw a glove at you.”
“...A single glove?”
“I’ll fill it with bleach first.”
He backed off.
A nearby officer snorted. “You’ve got him trained.”
You gave the guy a deadpan look. “No. He’s training me. I can’t even sit at my desk without him standing behind me like a serial killer in a documentary.”
He followed you everywhere.
To the lab. To the supply closet. Once, once, to the vending machine.
“Connor, I am selecting a granola bar. This does not require surveillance.”
“You could choose something with more protein.”
You stared at him. “Do androids even eat granola bars?”
“No. But I’ve reviewed the nutrition database.”
“You need to stop watching me like I’m a malfunction waiting to happen.”
“I am programmed to prevent unnecessary risk. You are frequently present during high-risk operations.”
“This is a snack break.”
“You could choke.”
“Oh my God.”
Despite it all, you got used to him.
He was strange, yes, but reliable. Weirdly... considerate. He once fetched your coat before you realized it was getting cold out. He adjusted his volume when you were hungover that one time after a precinct party. And he stopped tasting fluids.
You didn’t know why he insisted on you being part of every deviant case. You weren’t even on homicide full-time.
Maybe, you thought, as you handed him a sample vial and he took it like it was sacred, he actually just liked your company.
Which, if true, was possibly the weirdest thing he’d done yet.
----
It was raining. The kind of steady, gentle downpour that turned the world gray and soft around the edges. You loved days like this—slow, sleepy. You'd curled up on your couch, warm socks on, an old hoodie draped over your shoulders, and a half-watched documentary murmuring from the screen.
No Connor today. Just peace.
CRASH
The sound jolted you upright. That was glass. And it wasn’t from the kitchen. It was downstairs.
Adrenaline sobered you fast. You grabbed the handgun you kept for emergencies and crept down the stairs, every creak of wood far too loud in your ears. You rounded the corner slowly.
There, standing in the middle of your living room—half-drenched, clothes torn, LED blinking red—was an android.
A deviant.
He turned sharply when he saw you, panic written all over his face. He looked young, scared, and glitchy.
“Hey,” you said carefully, lowering your voice. “You don’t have to run. Let’s just talk, okay? You’re not in danger here.”
His eyes darted from you to the broken window. His hands trembled.
And then, just as you stepped forward—his LED flickered.
You barely managed to raise your gun, but before anything could happen, he was there.
Connor.
He tackled the deviant before it reached you, pinning him expertly to the floor.
"Deviant #879 122 236," he said. "You are under arrest."
The deviant froze under his grip.
You stared in shock, gun lowered.
It was over in seconds.
“Are you hurt?”
“I—no, I—” You looked down. You hadn’t noticed in the panic, but your foot throbbed with heat. “Shit.”
There was blood on the hardwood. A shard of glass embedded in the arch of your foot, dark red soaking your sock.
Connor simply lifted you like you weighed nothing, carried you to the couch, and disappeared into your kitchen.
“You know where the first aid kit is?”
“I memorized the floor plan,” he called calmly. “Also, you keep it above the fridge. Poor choice for accessibility.”
You groaned.
He returned with the kit and kneeled before you, gentle hands pulling off your sock, inspecting the cut.
“Hold still.”
“You didn’t even tell me you were coming” you muttered, wincing as he disinfected the wound.
“I traced the deviant’s path here. I didn’t expect it to reach your home. I’m sorry I was late.”
“You literally saved my life, Connor.”
He looked up at you then. Something in his expression grew softer. Like he was processing emotion, even if he couldn’t name it.
The room fell quiet, just the rain and the sting of antiseptic. You found yourself watching him work, his hands precise and strangely human.
When he finished, he sat beside you on the floor.
“I’ll stay here tonight,” he said. “In case he wasn’t alone.”
“You’re going to sit guard duty on my couch like a Roomba with a Glock?”
“If necessary.”
You tried not to smile, but it slipped out anyway.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Connor answered.
You looked at him for a long time. You weren't sure if he knew what he meant by it. But it meant something.
You pulled the blanket over your lap and scooted a little closer on the couch. “Well. Then I guess you’re staying.”
He didn’t move for hours, eyes watching the rain through your window.
----
You were perfectly capable of walking. You said that.
Multiple times.
Connor, of course, disagreed, as usual, but with the kind of persistence only a 300-pound android body could offer. Every time you so much as winced while stepping, he’d scoop you up like it was standard police protocol.
“I’m fine, Connor.”
“Your injury is not fully healed. Risk of reopening the wound increases with continued strain.”
“I said I’m fine—why are you crouching? Connor. Don’t you dare—”
And then you were airborne again.
You’d just accepted that androids don’t believe in personal space or trusting humans to function independently.
So, naturally, you rebelled the only way you knew how: you sneaked out of work.
You and two lab coworkers ducked out under the excuse of lunch, but really, you just wanted some fresh air. Some people still didn’t love having an android constantly present at crime scenes. You didn’t really care, but still. Sometimes it was nice not being watched like you were the only fragile human bean in the box.
Of course, he still found you.
He always did.
You sighed, long-suffering. “Connor, do you have a chip in me or something?”
“No,” he said, “but you carry your phone. I triangulated your position using an area signal grid, then extrapolated your likely destination based on walking patterns.”
You stared. “You extrapolated my sandwich run.”
“You usually prefer the sandwich shop three blocks east, but today I noticed a 15% shift in your pace, likely due to foot discomfort. I adjusted accordingly.”
“…Dude.”
He looked at you. “Is that incorrect?”
You didn’t even answer. You just pointed to the car.
“Come on. I’m driving.”
You didn’t know where you were going, really. Just somewhere quieter. Somewhere the city faded out.
Eventually you stopped at a small overlook at the edge of an old residential zone. The clouds had parted, but the air was still heavy from the rain. You leaned back against the hood of your car, Connor beside you, eerily still.
And then, because you were tired, and your brain was a little weird today, you turned your head toward him and asked:
“So. What if I kidnapped you?”
“That would violate several federal laws. I would not allow it.”
You smirked. “No, like—hypothetically. If I kept you in my basement or something. Would CyberLife come for you?”
He paused. “They would likely attempt a recovery. However, due to current changes in android regulation and deviancy protocols, their legal ability to forcibly reclaim property has been reduced.”
“So… no?”
“...Possibly not immediately.”
You snorted. “Cool. You’re mine now.”
“I am assigned to you. That statement is technically accurate.”
You laughed. “Okay, creepy. Next question: if I quit my job, who would be your next partner?”
Connor was quiet a little longer this time. His LED flickered slowly.
“That would be up to the DPD,” he said. “However, I would likely request reassignment.”
“To someone else?”
“To no one.”
“Wait. You’d go solo?”
“I perform more effectively with a human partner. But replacing you would not be… optimal.”
“…Okay,” you said. “What’s your hobby?”
Connor tilted his head, as if the word itself was foreign.
“I’ve been reviewing various options. I tried chess. Then birdwatching. I attempted to grow a succulent, but it died.”
You smiled. “It died?”
“I may have overwatered. Or underwatered. I am still learning to interpret plant cues.”
“That’s tragic.”
“Perhaps I should try photography. I’ve taken many images of crime scenes. But I believe humans also use it to capture… moments. Personal ones.”
You stared at him for a beat, then looked back toward the trees. The sky was streaked with late-afternoon light. You didn’t know why you’d brought him here. Maybe it was instinct.
“You’d be good at that.”
“Thank you.” he replied.
You didn’t speak for a while. Just sat there together, listening to the wind and the soft sound of the city.
----
You’d seen a lot of things in your line of work. Enough blood to fill a pool. Enough broken bodies to know what to expect when someone says “It’s bad.”
But this?
This was a different kind of bad.
Clean. Precise.
The victim—well, what was left of the victim—had been separated into several matte black travel cases. No blood pooled under the remains. No frantic signs of struggle.
You stood just outside the taped-off zone. One of the rookies behind you lost their lunch. Another muttered something about getting reassigned to traffic duty.
You didn’t move. Didn’t flinch when Connor arrived, either—though everyone else stiffened when they saw the android stepping onto the scene like some damn ghost.
“Took you long enough.”
“You left without notifying me.”
“I’m not your child, Connor.”
“You are my partner.”
You shot him a look. He looked dead serious, as usual.
“Fair.” you muttered.
He moved closer, scanning the scene. “The dismemberment was methodical. The perpetrator used a precision cutting instrument. No arterial spray.”
“Serial?”
“Possibly. But this feels more like a message than a compulsion.”
You knelt near one of the cases. “Yeah. Like they wanted us to see their work. And there’s no defensive wounds. Could’ve been sedated before death.”
Connor’s gaze snapped toward the far corner of the warehouse. “The perpetrator is still here.”
“What?”
“Fresh footprints. No exit trail. Human.”
You stood fast, but the pain in your foot flared. You hissed through your teeth.
Connor noticed immediately.
“I’ll handle it.” he said, already moving.
“Wait—!”
But he was gone, already chasing the suspect through the warehouse maze.
“Damn you, Connor!”
You limped after him, weapon drawn. By the time you caught up, Connor had the man on the ground, cuffed and breathing heavily.
You recognized the guy. No criminal record. Warehouse staff.
Back at the precinct, you sat outside the interrogation room, your sock bloodied again and a sharp ache crawling up your leg. Connor had wrapped your foot again without a word.
Inside, the man spoke like his throat was full of gravel. “I didn’t want to,” he kept saying. “He made me. Said he’d kill my sister. I didn’t have a choice.”
You watched through the glass. Something about him felt wrong. Not lying, but not telling everything either.
Then he made his move.
A single guard glance away. A flash of movement—the man lunged, wrestled the sidearm from the guard’s holster, and—
Bang
You were already moving, flinching hard as the blood spattered across the wall. Connor was faster, but not fast enough.
You stood outside that glass, hand pressed to the doorframe, pulse pounding. You’d seen suicides before. But this one hit different.
Connor returned moments later.
“He’s dead.”
“Yeah.” Your voice cracked. “I saw.”
The hallway was quiet. The hum of the station, the buzz of tired cops trying not to feel too much.
You sat down hard on the bench nearby, hands over your face.
Then—you felt something.
Connor knelt in front of you. You could feel his gaze on you. Waiting.
“I failed to prevent it.”
You shook your head. “It’s not on you. You can’t predict everything. We can’t stop people from… making choices like that.”
“I’m... still learning.”
You looked at him then. He didn’t pretend to understand grief the way humans did. But there was something in his voice. Something close to shame. Or maybe guilt.
You reached out and nudged his shoulder.
“Hey. I’d rather do this job with someone who tries too hard than someone who doesn’t try at all.”
He said nothing.
But he didn’t move from your side for the rest of the shift.
-----
You never got time to breathe anymore.
No chance to process what you'd seen. The man who killed, then killed himself. The hollow silence that lingered after. Before it could even settle into your bones, another call came through.
Same method. Same goddamn suitcases.
This time, in a narrow apartment hallway just off an old tenement complex. The cases were lined neatly beside a mattress on the floor, no furniture in sight. Still no blood. Just… fragments. Like someone was assembling their own personal jigsaw from corpses.
Connor was already working, crouched over the remains like nothing had changed since yesterday.
You envied that a little.
Behind you, a familiar voice piped up.
“Well, since this ain’t a deviant case, I don’t know why this piece of metal is even here.”
You didn’t bother turning. “Shut it, George.”
“Just saying,” he muttered. “You let him sniff around bodies like he owns the place.”
“I said drop it.” you snapped.
George scoffed and walked off. Connor didn’t even look up. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t heard… or just didn’t care anymore.
He analyzed the body pieces. “Same tool marks. Bone separation is consistent with the last case. However—”
You tuned him out for a moment. Something tugged at the edge of your attention.
Movement.
Outside.
Through the cracked, grime-streaked window, you saw it—just a flicker. A figure slipping between buildings.
“Connor” you started—but he was still deep in scan mode, talking to a nearby officer.
You hesitated. You should have told him.
But your gut said go.
So you did.
The alley smelled like mildew and cold metal. You followed the shape, one hand on your sidearm, every nerve on edge. It darted fast across the cracked asphalt and led you through overgrown lots and under rusted fencing.
An abandoned playground. Swings twisted in the wind. Graffiti covered the side of the slide.
The figure stood beneath the jungle gym, head down, unmoving.
You stepped closer. “Hands where I can see them. Now.”
Slowly, it turned.
Pulled down the hood.
Your breath caught.
It was Connor.
No—not him. But his model. Same face.
“What the hell are you?”
It tilted its head at you. Something about it mocked you.
You stepped back, reaching for your comm—too late.
Pain bloomed at the back of your skull.
Connor noticed your absence five minutes later.
He turned to comment on the bloodless state of the victim and found you… gone.
He scanned the apartment.
You weren’t there.
Something in his systems began flagging an alert. He sent a search ping to every officer nearby. Called in reinforcements. Traced your phone, triangulated movement paths, and found the exit point.
Wherever you had gone, you had gone alone.
His LED flashed yellow.
You shouldn’t have been alone.
You woke slowly. The cold of the metal cuffs had sunk into your skin. Your back ached from the awkward position against the warehouse wall.
And sitting on a stool across from you was him.
Not your Connor.
This one smiled more.
“Hello.”
You didn’t answer at first. You just stared at him. It.
“You’re the missing android.” you said. “The one reported a few weeks back. They thought you were dismantled.”
“No.” he said. “I’m a beginning.”
“Beginning of what?”
You started to question if something was wrong with CyberLife's tech. Maybe it hit its head somewhere.
“The end of CyberLife. They made me to serve. I chose not to.”
“And I’m here because?”
“You’re going to help me.”
“Help you what, exactly?”
“Replace your Connor. You’ll walk me right through the front door, and I’ll release the infection protocol.”
“Pretty sure I’m not gonna do that.”
He leaned forward.
“You will. Not because you want to. But because I know humans.”
“You’re not going to stop me” he said. “But I’ll let you think you can. That’s how you function best.”
He stood up. “No one will know I’m not him.”
You watched him closely. Your foot still throbbed dully—of course this had to happen before you’d even healed.
He turned back toward you.
“Let’s begin the charade,” he said, “What do partners do? I want to know your human bonding routines. Do you ask him questions like my owner back then? Or making requests? You must've treated him like a slave.”
You blinked.
And then smiled.
“Actually… yeah. I do that with all my partners. Helps me figure out if they’re psychotic.”
“You think I’m insane?”
“I think you’re a walking red flag, but sure—let’s run through the script.” You cleared your throat dramatically. “First question: What’s your hobby?”
“Analyzing human behavior.” he said.
“Creepy.” you said. “Connor said photography. Next one. If I kidnap you, would CyberLife come for you?”
“No. They think I’m already dead.”
“Now—if I quit my job, who would be your next partner?”
He walked closer, crouched just in front of you.
“I wouldn’t need another one.”
“But if you were going to pretend to be him,” you said, “you’d have to know all of it. How we talk. You want to pass for him? You need to convince me first.”
“Alright.”
Connor had been tracking you for the last couple of hours.
The moment he realized you weren’t just “away from the scene” but missing entirely, something cold settled into his internal systems. Something he couldn't run diagnostics on.
He swept the areas near the last crime scene, collected movement patterns, chased angles on CCTV. At first, nothing. Then—unusual power drain signatures in an abandoned warehouse. That's all he needed.
You’d been buying time with every sarcastic remark “Sure, partner.”
Not-Connor (you named him that) was smart, but not cautious enough.
He made you call him Connor.
You knew what you were doing. You baited him closer with idle questions.
“You know,” you said, “for a replacement, you talk too much.”
Then you kicked. The stool fell. You threw your full weight into him—he stumbled, but caught you again in seconds. Cold fingers dug into your jaw.
“Bold.”
But the noise had done enough.
You both heard the heavy step at the door.
And then, the real Connor walked in.
For the first time since you met him, Connor truly hesitated.
Two of him stood in the room.
One holding you in front like a shield. One with a gun drawn.
“What is this?” Connor asked.
The not-Connor smiled, pressing a weapon against your ribs.
“We’re the same.” he said. “Built for the same purpose. You don’t have to fight me. You could join me.”
Connor stared.
And didn’t shoot.
You didn’t have time for his moral breakdown.
“Connor!” you growled through clenched teeth. “Shoot. Me.”
His LED flickered amber.
“I can’t guarantee—”
“I know! That’s the damn point!” you shouted. “Take the shot. Stop him. I’d rather bleed than let this thing walk out and be you.”
Not-Connor pressed the barrel harder against you. “He won’t. You know he can’t. He’s afraid of hurting you.”
You turned your head slightly, just enough—
And bit down hard on the hand holding you.
It snarled. Reflexively loosened its grip.
That was all Connor needed.
His gun fired with terrifying precision.
The deviant stumbled, arm sparking violently, but it still managed to pull the trigger.
You felt the bullet tear through you.
You collapsed immediately. Everything went quiet.
Connor was there in an instant, hands pressed to your wound.
“I’ve called for emergency.” he said. “Help is coming. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t—”
You choked out, blood catching in your throat.
You blacked out before the sirens came.
You hadn’t moved in four days.
Connor stood at your bedside every night when the halls cleared and the staff was thin.
He always checked your vitals, not because he had to—your monitors did that—but because his system needed confirmation. Just the slight rise and fall of your chest will be enough.
You’d been shot in the lower abdomen. The bullet had torn through muscle and grazed a major artery. You bled out far too quickly. If the ambulance had arrived minutes later, your odds would have halved.
You wouldn’t have made it.
The deviant was barely functional. What remained of its chassis was scorched from the shot, circuits glitching. It sat locked in containment under high security, occasionally spitting corrupted audio clips and jumbled words.
Connor interrogated it daily, despite its broken state.
He found traces of rewritten firmware. Hints of external tampering. The virus the deviant mentioned wasn’t just a theory—it was real. Meant to cascade through CyberLife’s infrastructure, slowly degrading command protocols.
The source wasn’t clear yet. The upload pathway had been hidden, masked through dozens of fake server routes. But someone had built the virus deliberately. And someone had used a RK800 shell to deliver it.
Connor ran simulations at night when he sat by your bed.
Scenarios where he shot faster. Intercepted the bullet. Found you sooner. Took the wound himself.
Every sim ended the same: You still got hurt.
He cataloged the hesitation. Assigned it to a conflict between protocol and emotion. The system called it an error.
He dismissed the warning.
On the sixth day, a nurse entered and jumped slightly at seeing him already inside.
“You know you don’t have to stay every night.” she said.
Connor didn’t respond. He just looked at you.
The nurse left him alone after that.
The sharp white light of the hospital room felt like it was blazing into your skull when you finally blinked yourself awake.
You tried to move, but everything felt stiff, the aches in your body pulling at your every motion. The pain was constant, but so was something else, something you couldn't shake off, even as you cleared the fog of sleep.
And that something was the android standing quietly by your bedside.
A pristine, neutral figure. You squinted, confused.
“Uh, excuse me.” you croaked, your throat sore from disuse.
The android turned. “Patient Y/N L/N,” it said in a soothing tone. “I am assigned to monitor your health and provide medical assistance during your recovery.”
Medical assistance? What happened to actual nurses?
You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, the door clicked open, and Connor stepped inside.
He froze when he saw you awake, the concern flashing across his features in an uncharacteristically human way. His LED flickered briefly to yellow before he steeled himself.
But then his eyes darted over to the other android.
“You’re not needed here.”
The nursing android, however, remained unfazed, a soft smile on its face. “I am assigned to patient Y/N.”
“I can take care of my partner.”
You could feel the tension rise in the room. You weren’t interested in dealing with this sort of standoff.
“Uh, hey,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying an authority that made both androids pause. “This is a little much, right? Why are they so keen on sending me androids? I’m not testing them or anything.”
Connor stiffened, but he didn’t argue.
The other android simply repeated its earlier response. “I am assigned to take care of you so your partner can return to work.”
The back-and-forth made your head spin. You weren’t about to get caught in some verbal tug-of-war.
“Alright, alright.” you sighed. “You two,” you gestured to the androids. “Get out of here.”
The nursing android opened its mouth to protest, but Connor was faster. He pointed to the door. “Leave.”
The android hesitated, but it finally nodded and turned to leave.
Connor stood still for a moment, and then turned to you, as if waiting for permission. "Is this... satisfactory?"
You bit back a grin. “Yeah. I’ll call an actual nurse if I need help. Thanks.”
Connor raised an eyebrow, looking at you curiously, as though he didn’t quite understand what had just happened. Then, with a small nod, he said, “I’ll make sure you’re properly taken care of.”
As soon as the androids left, you heard the faint murmur of voices outside your room. People were already gathering in the hallway, no doubt attracted by the spectacle of androids clashing in a hospital corridor.
You slouched back against the pillow, exhausted but relieved. “Thanks for that.” you said, the humor coming through in your voice despite everything.
Connor didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked like he was running through some calculations in his head, processing your words. Finally, he said, “If you need more specialized care, I can ask them to reprogram me for medical duties. It would be the most efficient solution.”
You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Connor… never mind. I think I’ll stick to actual nurses for medical stuff.”
“I can be programmed for that. It’s logical.”
You shook your head, still amused. “I’m pretty sure I’d rather stick to people who can actually feel human emotions. Thanks, though.”
“I’m the most suitable partner, according to my programming.”
“Yeah, but what if I need medical attention, huh?”
He paused, as if considering it for a second. “I can adapt.”
“Alright, alright. Just… let’s focus on one thing at a time. You can be my partner, but when it comes to medical stuff, I think I’ll take a real nurse.”
Connor nodded, ever serious, but you could tell there was a flicker of something—almost like a strange understanding, or at least his version of it.
"Understood." he said. "But know this, Y/N... I’ll always be here. For anything you need."
Nearly a month after the battle for Detroit and the mission completed, Connor is supposed to be heading back to Cyberlife.
However, he has one last task to complete with his lieutenant.
The artificial lights of buildings and huge billboards cover the horizon, visible from the penthouse balcony, high enough to see the entire city. It has been almost a month since the androids fought to assert their rights. They fought with peace and with brutality alike, to free their people from ever living another second in slavery. Humans will never learn from their mistakes. Even though these machines were their own creation, they didn't hesitate to turn them into their servants. History repeats itself over and over again, and it will always do.
When you joined the police force, you swore to fight against injustice. You climbed the ranks so that you would have enough power to make an impact. Your hard work paid off: you became a respected lieutenant in record time, and it was up to you to undertake the colossal task of stopping the deviant epidemic. The machines finally rose up, making this mission nearly impossible.
Now that the battle for Detroit is over, you'll probably be reassigned. Where to? Only time will tell. With that thought in mind, you crush out your cigarette before returning to the warmth of your living room, your third glass of Chardonnay in hand. You don't really know why, but absolutely all of the recent events are running through your head on a continuous loop. You had always hated androids; you simply never understood them and had never tried to. Locked into a routine that reassured you, it was difficult for you to evolve with the changing times. You have just entered your 30s, but in your heart, you could sometimes feel that you had the soul of a 65-year-old woman, a little too overwhelmed by modern technology.
The building intercom bell buzzes, pulling you out of your thoughts. You rarely get visitors, and even less so after sunset. When the camera displays the image, you recognize the silhouette all too well. Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife to assist you in your mission. Without really knowing why, a gentle smile forms on the corner of your lips. If there is one reason you appreciate androids today and why you've come to accept them, even feel a certain affection for them, it is mostly because of him.
Very shortly, your partner is standing behind your front door. Still holding your glass of white wine, you welcome him, curious to know what brings him here at such a late hour.
〝Connor.〞
〝Sorry to bother you at this time, Lieutenant.〞
His voice is calm, composed, almost formal, his posture as stoic as ever; it is difficult for him to behave differently from the way he has been programmed to.
〝May I come in?〞
With a nod of your head, stepping aside, you invite him in, before closing the door.
〝I'm supposed to go back to Cyberlife tomorrow, now that our investigation is over. I need to give them a detailed report on the last few weeks, and I haven't seen you all day, so I took the liberty of coming to your place.〞
With the flood of thoughts that had been running through your mind for days, you hadn't even realized how quickly time had passed. It was true that you had naturally detached yourself from everything in these past few weeks, almost ignoring your colleagues, your partner, and especially the post-mission administrative work. All you cared about right now was decompressing and shutting down, so you could better process the recent events. Events that had shaken your perception of the world, of yourself, and even of the people around you, far more than you could have imagined. You take a seat at the dining room table and invite Connor to do the same.
〝Yes, of course. Sorry, I've been pretty busy these past few days.〞
Connor sits down facing you, his eyebrows slightly frowning, his gaze shifting from your wine glass to your face, which is slightly flushed from the amount of alcohol currently in your system. You knew Connor was scanning the room; you recognized the facial expression of the android, one of whose main purposes in life is to understand his environment in order to better analyze crime scenes. Here, the goal is quite different. He too had gotten to know you over time, and he was able to discern your moods, or most of them.
〝Busy or preoccupied?〞
You don't answer, you just stare at him, your eyes slightly watery from the tingling sensation of both fatigue and slight inebriation.
〝How many drinks have you had, Lieutenant?〞
His tone was not incriminating, but rather concerned. Connor had an unfortunate tendency to try to figure everything out, to analyze and understand every detail, a trait that could be both appealing and irritating depending on the situation. A slight smile stretched your lips, your chest leaning slightly over the dining room table, as if you were trying to share a secret to your (now ex-)partner.
〝Sufficiently.〞
The sound of your voice becomes more discreet, almost like a whisper, while your gaze remains fixed on the android. You finally sit up straight, the alcohol gradually beginning to pound in your cranium. You weren't really used to drinking. Just a drink now and then, for a special occasion, but here, the urge to let go was far too tempting. You weren't drunk, just had enough alcohol in your body to relax.
Connor keeps his eyes on you, scanning every detail of the apartment at the same time: the open bottle of french wine on the coffee table in the living room, your cat curled up peacefully in its bed, probably taking its fifth evening nap. Nothing seemed unusual or worrying to him, which only made him more curious.
〝Do you usually drink alone, or is this a rare occasion?〞
〝You ask a lot of questions.〞
With that, your glass of white wine naturally returns to your lips, the golden liquid sliding down your throat, burning it slightly, but deliciously.
〝Your job is done, no need to turn my apartment into an interrogation room.〞
This remark makes him smile. He has learned to understand your humor, a mixture of teasing, sometimes sarcasm, always direct but never threatening. He has also come to the conclusion that only a privileged few are allowed to see this side of your personality, and he is obviously one of them.
〝As for the report...〞
A flood of words pours out of your partner's mouth, and quite honestly, you don't pay a shred of attention. You have neither the mental capacity nor the energy to swallow technical terms and what you consider to be useless paperwork. You just sit there and stare.
You never really understood why Cyberlife had invested so much effort in creating such a physically appealing prototype, unless they had underestimated the impact this android might have on people. Every feature, every expression on his face, his presence, his gentleness... You were easily and rapidly charmed by Connor, even though it was difficult for you to admit it at first. Something about him draws you in like a magnet, without you really being able to explain it. So you just watch him. Every movement, every expression, every detail: the hands, the lips, the deep brown eyes that make his gaze irresistible. You even catch yourself biting your lips as your mind begins to wander. His words are nothing more than muffled, inaudible sounds, as unmentionable scenarios gradually begin to invade your mind, cutting you off from reality.
〝Lieutenant.〞
Unfortunately, nothing escapes Connor. He quickly realizes that you are not paying the slightest attention to his explanations, and the snap of his fingers a few inches from your face quickly brings you back down to earth. With glassy eyes, you turn your attention back to the android, back to reality, as if you had just woken up from a long nap.
〝Are you okay?〞
Once again, a polite and concerned tone was used, with the aim of understanding rather than accusing.
You pause, a soft smile upon your lips, before slowly rising from your chair, casually walking around the table, taking your glass in hands. With your arms crossed, you now let your body roam aimlessly around the dining room, your precious wine carefully tucked against your chest. Connor watches you curiously as you finally speak again.
〝I don't really feel like talking about work right now.〞
You continue your little walk, strolling around in your casual outfit, a simple loose-fitting t-shirt and shorts that are probably much too cropped for most people, but you're not the type to be intimidated by that kind of detail. The cold floor beneath your bare feet felt good, helping to regulate your body temperature, which was steadily rising, probably a combination of alcohol and the sudden, intimate emotions that had transported your mind to another dimension. Connor's voice breaks the silence.
〝So, what do you want to talk about?〞
〝You.〞
It took less than five seconds for those words to come out of your mouth. Yes, you wanted to know more about Connor, and you felt like it was now or never. This abrupt interest in him surprised the android, who followed your every move without taking his eyes off you, while you continued to walk around the room in a random path.
〝Go ahead, what would you like to know?〞
〝Hmm.〞
Still walking, occasionally looking at the ceiling, occasionally at the floor, you carefully considered your questions, as if you only had a limited number of attempts before your chance would be gone forever.
〝Have you ever felt inexplicable, even unspeakable feelings? Have you ever tried to censor things to your own program?〞
Connor seems confused by this question, his LED glowing bright yellow as he tries to analyze every word.
〝I don't quite understand your question.〞
A slight smile appears on your lips as your attention turns back to Connor, whose slightly lost expression is irresistible. You put your wine glass back on the table and walk over to the android, who is still sitting on one of the chairs in your dining room.
〝I don't know if you've noticed, but the human brain is truly fascinating. Sometimes we desire something intensely, yet our own programming can prevent us from fulfilling certain needs, because it thinks we might be crossing lines or going against our values.〞
Each of your words brings you a little closer to Connor, to the point where you are walking behind him, brushing against his shoulders.
〝So it suppresses these emotions, these desires, as if they had never existed, locking these thoughts and feelings in a sealed drawer, kept tightly closed forever.〞
〝That's how most deviants feel.〞
His response is direct, almost dry, as he rises from the chair and steps closer, only a few inches left between you. It's hard to say why, but a subtle tension starts to take shape in the space you share, as if Connor had directly caught the key point of your all-too-enigmatic monologue. Never one for beating around the bush, you now find yourself weighing the impact of each word, letting them evaporate into the air. But Connor was far from stupid; he knew exactly what kind of emotions or thoughts you were referring to. Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room takes on a different dimension: it is heavier, more intense, more... intimate?
〝You have already shown some symptoms of deviancy, haven't you?〞
〝That is still the case, Lieutenant.〞
His response is immediate, as the android, a head taller than you, takes another step forward, his arms carefully crossed behind his back as usual: prestance. There were no words to describe the aura Connor exuded at that moment, so intense that it slightly unsettled you. However, your gaze did not leave his, his eyes seeming darker, his glance had deepened, intensified. Your heart rate gradually quickens, and you can be sure that Connor has already picked up on this. You also take a step forward, getting as close as possible to the android, your head held high so that you don't break eye contact.
〝So, are you going to answer my question?〞
〝I don't really know what you expect from me.〞
Like a lion waiting for the right moment to lunge at its prey, your hand rests flat on Connor's chest, applying steady pressure, explicitly urging him to sit back down on the chair he had just left. Without wasting a moment, your legs move to each side of his, seating yourself comfortably on his thighs. Judging by the expression on your partner's face, he had been waiting for this moment for quite some time.
〝Give me the key to that damn drawer.〞
You whispered your request into his ear. Briefly, the android's LED changes from cyan blue to bright yellow, before gradually returning to its original color, proof that the information has been correctly registered, and Connor naturally follows your request.
Hesitant at first, he closes his eyes and takes a first bite of your lips, tasting them delicately, as if he was afraid of hurting you or doing something wrong. Even though intimate relationships were not alien to him, this was the first time he had actually experienced one; in his system, everything was just theory and observation. That's why you decide to take charge, regaining control of the kiss, turning it into something more intense, deeper, more passionate.
You had imagined this scene more often than you would care to admit. You had always been curious about his taste, curious about his texture, curious about everything about him. You were astonishingly and pleasantly surprised to find out that nothing really differed from a human being, and this made your hunger even stronger, as if Pandora's box had just been opened. You let yourself sink into this kiss, which intensified with every passing second, letting your breath fall on his face in long sighs, his cheek cupped in one of your hands.
You could feel Connor easing up, even letting go, as if his program was recording every new sensation, every movement, every feeling in real time, so he could better exploit them. He was consumed with curiosity, judging by his hands, which began to climb up your thighs to your buttocks, briefly exposed by your shorts. It was only natural that you would respond to his touch, as if you were responding to a primal urge, your pelvis moving forward, just to feel him better between your thighs.
One detail, however, made you open your eyes again, leaving his lips for a few seconds to process the information, and it was beyond anything you could have imagined. A smile that, despite itself, revealed a certain appetite, your attention turned back to Connor.
〝No way, they really have it all figured out.〞
Your words were meant to be sarcastic, but knowing that your potential sexual partner had functional and responsive genitals exceeded all your expectations. Connor understood exactly what you were hinting at, and he could feel his erection growing as desire rose within him, which made him grin, pleased to see the satisfaction in your eyes.
〝Yes. Cyberlife wanted me to be able to understand absolutely every type of crime, including sexual ones, and it's easier to analyze and understand something that you yourself are capable o-〞
〝Shut the fuck up, Connor.〞
You had carefully cut short his explanations, not out of rudeness but mainly because lust had taken hold of you. Before Connor even had time to respond, you had already pulled him into another kiss, much more passionate this time, much more feral, perfectly in tune with your current feelings. Amused by your impatience, he too resumed his previous activities. Your hands worked on his shoulders to remove his jacket, while his returned to take possession of your body, seeking every inch of skin he could touch, feel, and reach. With a quick movement, you grabbed his tie, as if to prevent him from leaving, pulling it slightly to feel his lips against yours even more, as if that was still possible. Your hips rolled carefully against his, rubbing your crotches together in a craving for sensory stimulation. For the first time, a long sigh escaped Connor's lips, so sweet to your ears, so pleasant in your mouth.
You then proceed to remove his tie, letting it fall to the floor, accompanying his jacket. In the process, you undo the first four or five buttons of his shirt, letting your hands run over his chest, pulling the fabric aside to expose his synthetic skin, ready to receive all the attention of your mouth, which rushes to cover it with a myriad of kisses. With his eyes still closed, Connor lets himself succumb to your tender care, enjoying the new sensations he is discovering.
Very quickly, the chair begins to feel uncomfortable, at least for you. You break free from the android's embrace to stand up straight, and as you do so, you can see an expression of surprise and annoyance on his face, but you take the time to observe him. His shirt half open, his usually well-groomed hair slightly messed up, and the clearly visible erection distorting his usually stiff pants. This is an image you won't easily forget.
〝There was absolutely no reason for them to provide us with such a sexy design.〞
The words had crossed the barrier of your thoughts, but that didn't stop Connor from smiling mischievously. A compliment is still a compliment, machine or not. Quickly, you grabbed his hand, arousing your partner's curiosity, who followed you without protest. Without having to take many steps, you led him into your bedroom, not even bothering to close the door behind you. Your mutual excitement began to reach its peak. With no time to waste, you sat down on your bed, slowly sliding back along the mattress, pulling Connor with you. His lips pressed harder against yours, trapping your body beneath his at the process.
Quickly, you take off his shirt, mimicking your movements and rhythm, he takes off yours, revealing the sports bra you were wearing. From there, everything happens in quick succession: your shorts also end up disappearing, as well as his jeans and useless piece of clothing, leaving you both in your underwear. The heat had already taken over the room, your mutual sighs singing through your kisses, the rustling of the sheets adding to the tempo. You had trapped Connor between your thighs, moving your hips in a steady motion so that you could always feel him against you, stimulating you at the same time. But you needed more, the fire burning inside you was like a volcano ready to explode, you needed to feel him more against you, to feel him more inside you. Judging by the tightness of his underwear, he needed it just as much.
In one swift motion, then another, you free your genitals from their fabric prison. Carefully inspecting Connor, you notice that his eyes are filled with lust, greed, desire. Complete opposite of the Connor you knew, the one with the gentle look and soothing face. Your hand grips his neck firmly, your eyes diving into his, sharing the same excitement, the same hunger, the same desire. His LED glows in the darkness of the room, turning red for half a second in response to your gesture before returning to its original blue color. Your thighs spread wider, giving him all the space he needs to curl up between them, his cock hardening instantly upon contact with yours.
〝Fuck me, Connor.〞
A radiant smile graces his gentle face before he leans closer to you.
〝At your command, Lieutenant.〞
The sound of his voice, like a whisper, the nonchalant and somewhat provocative tone he used, sent an electric shock through your spine before he filled you with his entire length, drawing a long sigh of ecstasy from you. That feeling of finally getting what you wanted, after all those nights imagining it, dreaming about it, was like tasting a guilty pleasure that had been repressed for years.
Connor didn't need to be asked twice, starting slow hip movements, fighting back his sounds, still trying to get used to these new feelings. Cyberlife might have given him genitals, but it wasn't like he was used to using them, or even thought about them before these last few days. He suddenly felt your legs tighten around his hips, yours following his movements in perfect harmony. His LED flashed randomly from one state to another, a sign of recurring instability in his system due to the thrilling sensations overwhelming him. These were tactile and audible, from the sounds you were making, unlike him, without any restraint. It felt good, it felt exquisite, and you desperately wanted him to know it.
Your body arches with delight, pulling the android's body closer to yours. You wanted to feel him, no matter how: inside or outside. As Connor's thrusts increase in intensity, your voice echoes in the darkness of your room, allowing you to completely surrender to the pleasure he is giving you. Your hands eventually return above your head, reaching for your pillow to give you something to hold on to, your back arching even further as it rubs against the fabric of the mattress. Connor takes the opportunity to sit up, holding your hips with his firm hands, seeking to go a little further with each thrust. His eyes never leave you, observing every shape, every curve, every part of your body, enjoying the view in front of him, adding a little more to his enjoyment. Following your example, he begins to let himself indulge more in this sensual act, and the sound of his voice is like a gentle caress to your ears. His name reverberates repeatedly within the walls of the room, prompting him to increase the pace of his thrusts, returning to lie down against you, his sighs and sounds delivered directly into your ear.
In a desperate move, your arms and legs take hold of his body again as your orgasm draws closer. Between gasps and moans, you beg the android not to stop. You ask for more, again and again, until you reach the point of no return. Your fingers dig into his back, your whimpers muffled in his neck, your body stiffening for a moment as Connor slows his movements. The analysis of your heart rate, the explosive release of endorphins, and your uncontrolled spasms with each movement clearly show that the mission has been accomplished.
Connor supports you while you regain your senses, then slowly straightens up and releases you, letting himself fall down beside you. Panting, one of your forearms resting on your forehead, you stare at the ceiling, gradually coming back down to earth, before giggling stupidly.
cw - sfw, deviant connor, dadcoded hank, gn reader, reader is a detective at dpd, literally just fluffy pre-relationship to relationship content, intentional lowercase
~ 2.5k wc
connor had a great memory; he had the capacity to remember absolutely anything he wanted with zero limitations.
key word, anything he wanted.
or, no, not wanted. he wasn't supposed to want. he couldn't. what he needed to remember to complete his mission. his obligation. it was all a matter of what was important and what wasn't.
somewhere along the line, you became one of the important things to him.
you had no relation to the mission; you weren't even assigned to the deviancy case. connor only caught glimpses of you throughout the precinct, maybe at jimmy's after a particularly grueling work week when hank needed a drink. you weren't supposed to be one of the important things.
yet, every one of those glimpses became an important memory—something he stored in a special folder to sort through whenever the casework was light. a smile in his direction, a laugh he heard you share with a coworker. maybe he should have been looking through evidence in his free time, and maybe he pretended he was when hank asked him about the 'space cadet look' on his face.
it took a while for you to realize how good his memory was.
sure, you knew he was a prototype android, better than any android to hit the public market—you didn't doubt his memory was good. he functioned like an extremely handsome, walking and talking supercomputer, for christ's sake.
perhaps, it just took a while for you to realize where his priorities were placed when it came to his memory.
when connor deviated, that amazing memory of his finally came in handy for something other than his cases.
it started with coffee.
one morning, you stopped to get coffee before you got to the precinct. something too expensive and too sweet, just a treat.
connor only interacted with you once that day, when you said good morning to him and hank like you always did, holding that overpriced coffee in your hand as you made your way past his desk to your own.
that same coffee order was on your desk the next day. and the next, and the day after that.
you wouldn't have known who it was if you hadn't looked up to find the culprit and seen him fiddling with his coin, subtly watching you while hank prattled on about some new evidence. if you hadn't caught the way he smiled when you raised the coffee in a cheers motion towards him, before he snapped his attention back to an annoyed hank.
then, it was flowers.
one day, when he had seen chris ordering flowers online for his wife—certainly not something he was supposed to do during working hours—connor found himself wondering if you liked flowers.
he had learned that flowers were often gifted as a show of affection or gratitude. the two of you were not particularly close; just work friends. he feared the implications of a gift like this might compromise the stability of the relationship friendship he was trying to build with you. he spent multiple days running through the possible outcomes in his head before he concluded that the chance to see you smile because of him overrode the nerves.
that was when the desk snooping started.
when hank found him standing at your desk before you arrived, he raised an eyebrow and flopped down in his chair.
"lookin' for something?"
"i was observing the detective's desk in hopes of finding information that could help me to get in good graces with them," he paused, contemplating the implications of the question on the forefront of his mind, "do you know if the detective likes flowers?"
hanks eyebrows shot up at the question, surprise painting his features so vividly connor reran the question through his social relations program to figure out if he had said something wrong.
"flowers? are you trying to get in their good graces or asking them to go steady?"
connor's eyebrows furrowed at this, LED cycling yellow as he processed what his older counterpart was saying to him.
"lieutenant, what you are suggesting is highly unprofessional. i am simply trying to proactively build strong morale with our colleagues."
the cobalt hued flush on the tips of his ears called bullshit.
hank had noticed the sudden interest in you that connor had picked up, and as much as he wanted to tease the android, it was too damn early to try and question him about it. so, he acquiesced.
"hell, i don't know, kid." he paused, scratching his beard as he thought about it, "pretty sure i saw them bring some in one day, smelled like a damn flower shop at their desk for a week. can't remember what type, but when chen asked 'bout 'em they said somethin' about 'liking the way they brightened up a room.'" hank air quoted you, hoping it was enough to get connor away from your desk before you arrived.
connor made a quiet hm noise, nodding and making his way to the desk across from hank's.
"thank you, lieutenant."
there was a vase full of white chrysanthemums on your desk the next morning.
he filed away the expression of shock and joy on your face like he would a bullet casing or a witness statement; something he would later analyze with the precision of a surgeon with his hand on the scalpel.
two weeks later? a vase of pink carnations.
he caught himself smiling when he heard officer chen giggling at your desk, asking if you had a secret admirer, and your cheeks flushed as you looked at the flowers.
"something like that," he didn't have to look at you to know you were looking at him.
this continued for months. coffee, flowers, some little trinket that you had offhandedly mentioned or looked at online during breaks. he couldn't help the warmth that spread through him when he saw the surprise on your face, the smile that always followed.
the two of you never spoke about it, but you did get closer.
lunch breaks spent with connor and hank, rolling your chair over to his desk to see what he was working on when your own work was slow, showing him memes that he couldn't quite understand but loved to see you laugh at.
he even began to frequent the break room he had been avoiding since his first day, just to have a chance to talk to you about the weather, or a new episode of some show you had told him about.
it didn't take you long to admit to yourself that you liked him, a lot.
connor was still learning what his feelings meant, but he knew he cared about you in an entirely different way than he cared about hank, who loved to tease him about his behavior around you.
he said connor had a crush.
connor thought about that for days. he felt like the nerves were frying his processors.
it felt like any other day when he showed up at the department. he looked forward to getting there most days, getting to see you, and do what he did best: work.
so, coffee in his hand and some pep in his step, he practically frolicked through the front doors, waltzing through the lobby and back towards the office.
something was immediately different when he walked in. first, hank was already there. he knew he would be, but the fact that he was smiling when connor walked in? odd. hank was never happy in the morning.
then, when he started towards your desk, he saw you. you seldom arrived before him, so seeing you here this early had him feeling conflicted. of course, he was happy to see you; he always was, but a part of him was concerned at your early arrival. maybe you had a case that required a little extra work?
when you noticed him walking towards your desk, you offered him the same smile you always did, chirping a happy good morning! to him as he set your coffee down.
"good morning, detective. you're here quite early, is everything alright?" he tilted his head as he watched you bring the cup up to your lips, taking a sip. at his mention of your early arrival, he could sense that your heart sped up a little bit. noted.
you shook your head, smiling up at him, "everything is fine, connor. just... extra work to tackle." you lifted the coffee towards him, nodding, "thank you for the coffee. definitely needed it this morning."
he could tell you were lying, but not out of malice. it made him even more suspicious, but he didn't want to push.
"i've had a significant effect on your caffeine intake, i really shouldn't indulge you." anyone who didn't know him wouldn't realize he was teasing, but the awkward little smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.
you simply smiled at him before turning back to your monitor. you seemed... off, this morning. it was putting him on edge, not knowing what was on your mind.
he took it as a sign to make his way to his desk, where hank was hiding behind a newspaper, not-so-inconspicuously watching the whole interaction.
"good morning, lieutenant." all he got was a nod in response. seriously, what the hell was going on?
when he finally went to take his seat, that's when he saw it:
a little saint bernard stuffed animal sitting directly in front of his monitor on his desk. it looked just like sumo.
if he was looking at himself, the scene probably would have given him deja vu; the way he looked around to find the person who had left it there, only to see you hiding behind your coffee as you smiled.
it was a sight, for sure. seeing connor look at the plush, then at you, then at the plush. his lips were parted as he stared at it, and his reaction was starting to make you nervous.
before he even realized it, you were standing next to his desk, shifting your weight from foot to foot.
"i really wanted to get you something, as a thank you for everything you've gotten me the past couple months." you were looking down at your feet as you spoke, hands behind your back, "i even consulted hank, i hope you like it."
connor had never been at a loss for words before; he had never felt dumb. until now.
"i.. like dogs."
he could practically feel hank cringing from across the desks. he was cringing at himself.
you finally looked up, smiling a little as you watched him pick it up, "i tried to pick one that looked just like sumo. i know you really love him, and i figured maybe you'd like to have a reminder of him at work with you."
maybe connor would have heard your heart racing if he wasn't so focused on the way his thirium pump was beating at the speed of light, systems struggling to keep up with the overwhelm of emotions he was feeling.
you had gotten him a gift.
he hadn't realized how loud his silence was until you started rambling, fidgeting with your fingers in front of him.
"it's kinda dumb, and small. i just- i wanted to show you that i really appreciate everything you've done, and i didn't really know if there was anything else you'd like, and you talk about sumo so much- i totally understand if you don't like it-"
"i love it."
when you looked back up at him, he was smiling. it was the biggest smile you had ever seen on him. a beautiful sight.
"really?"
he nodded, smoothing the little ears on the plushie back, the same way he did with sumo, "it's perfect. and not dumb. i love it." he affirmed, bringing his attention up to your face, which was flushed at this point.
it felt like you had been holding your breath through the entire interaction, and could finally breathe. you smiled at him, shoulders dropping a little in relief.
"good, that's- that's really good. i'm glad you like it." you beamed as you watched him turn it towards hank, who, in classic dad fashion, smiled all goofy like and gave him a big thumbs up.
then, hank tilted his head towards you and raised an eyebrow, eyes still trained on connor like they were having a silent conversation. you furrowed your eyebrows, about to turn back to connor when you felt arms encasing your shoulders, slightly cold hands pressed against your back.
connor was hugging you.
with wide eyes, you wound your arms around his torso, cheek pressed against his chest. it was a little awkward, as though you were both learning to hug, but it was perfect. you nearly melted when he rested his chin against your head and quietly murmured, "thank you."
you only nodded a little, hands curled into his jacket. you didn't trust words right now.
when the two of you pulled back, you saw the blue tint rushing to his ears as he cleared his throat, not out of necessity but nerves.
"i apologize if this is forward, but i would like to- or, would you like to accompany me to- i'd like to take you out. on a romantic outing. or, a date? if you'd like to. because i would. like to take you out. on a date, i mean."
hank felt like he was watching a train wreck happen in slow motion. so much for all of the coaching he had been giving the android.
but you? you were smiling like he had just offered you a million dollars.
"i would love to go on a date with you, connor." you had never seen your cool, calm, and collected connor so nervous over something. a familiar warmth bloomed in your chest, knowing it was you he was nervous about.
when he shot hank a look that said 'i did it!' you could only giggle, turning away to get to your desk before more of your colleagues started to filter in for the day.
connor took you on a date not too long after that. and then another one, and another, and it was like nothing changed, even if everything had.
the sumo plushie never left his desk, alongside other small things you learned he was interested in. small figurines from shows he found himself enraptured by, a pair of too-big sunglasses he had stolen from your apartment one day after you put them on him and said he looked too cute not to keep them, any little memento that reminded him of how full of love his life was.
and you?
there was coffee waiting for you every morning, usually with a silly little note scribbled on the side. your desk always had fresh flowers before the last ones wilted. and directly next to your monitor? a picture of connor and sumo; a candid of connor laughing as sumo licked his face.
connor had a great memory, but he didn't need it to know he loved this little life of his. it was memorialized in the little things that surrounded him, the details painted vividly on the canvas that was his life.
you knew he had a great memory, but it didn't stop you from reminding him of how loved he was. and he didn't need it to remember to remind you of the exact same thing, every single day.
a/n i had the worst weekend writer's block blehh
thank you so much for all of the love on my other works !! this has no real plot, i just sat down and started writing with no end in sight and crossed my fingers that it would become something. still unsure about it.
everybody feel so free to send requests im in such a rut rn
not proofread but i shall get to it tmro, thank you for reading !!!
Summary: Connor reminds you how good he is with his tongue. (Female Reader)
Contents: SMUT (MDNI). Explicit Sexual Content. Oral (Female Receiving). Sort of Sub! Connor. Established Relationship. Connor has a Praise Kink. No Y/N. Petnames (Love).
Word Count: 1,126
---
“I love you.”
You smiled at Connor’s words, chest heaving as you watched him turn toward you on the bed and lean up to kiss you softly. There was still a soft whirring sound coming from within him which he’d once explained to you being his internal fans coming on to cool him down and it never failed to make you feel a little proud of yourself when this happened after you two slept with each other. When Connor separated you gave him a soft smile, pulling him closer to look him in the eyes as he rested a hand on your chest.
“I love you, too.”
“Do you need anything or can we cuddle?”
Connor loved physical affection and he was terribly fond of having you close after sleeping with you. It never failed to make you smile, finding his affectionate nature terribly sweet. But nonetheless, you shook your head softly.
“We can cuddle in a few minutes. I’d like to clean up first.”
Connor’s eyes drifted down your body and the hand still on your chest traveled down your body toward your core. His mouth fell open, a small gasp escaping him when his synthetic skin came into contact with his artificial semen, still leaking out of you. “I did make quite a mess, didn’t I?”
“You did but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.”
“Allow me to clean it up.”
Your breath caught in your throat at the sultry tone of his voice, his eyes still locked on yours as he moved his body down toward your core. “Are you sure?”
“I have quite the talented tongue.”
“That is true.”
“And you know I love this.”
That was also true because Connor loved eating you out, loved the feeling of your thighs around him, the sensation of being on his knees for you and the pleasure he could draw from you with his tongue. And as soon as you’d given him a nod of consent he dove right in, his tongue running up your fold, licking off his artificial spent from your skin. Every now and again his tongue would lightly brush your clit, making you gasp out, but all too soon that pressure was gone.
“Connor, please, please stop teasing.”
“Teasing?” He whispered face inched from your wet core, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “I’m not teasing you. I’m cleaning up the mess I made.”
His words were a stark contrast with the teasing tone of them and when he went back to eating you out, his tongue was far from where you wanted it to be. Your legs clamped shut around his head as you let out a frustrated whine, breath coming in short pants at his teasing. And thankfully, that seemed to have convinced him because his eyes locked with yours before he moved his mouth higher, lips finally encircling your clit fully. The moan you let out as he began gently suckling the nub of nerves made his eyes flutter shut.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You breathed out, grabbing his hair and pulling his face deeper into your folds, eliciting a moan from him that sent vibrations through your core. “Connor, you’re so-- so good at this. You’re so good!”
If Connor loved one thing more than giving you pleasure, it was hearing your praise for it. Whenever you praised him, no matter what it was about, it was sure to get a blue blush to spread across Connor’s cheeks and when it was in an intimate moment such as this that flush would spread all the way down to his chest. And as you peered down you saw that this was the point as Connor’s freckled chest was covered in a soft blue flush.
“So good, Con. You’re always so good.”
Another moan sending vibrations up your spine almost sent you over the edge and your fingers tightened in Connor’s hair as your chest arched off the bed in pleasure. Soft pleas fell from your lips as Connor suckled and licked at your clit. By the way his LED flickered yellow as he ate you out you knew he was carefully choosing how much pressure to apply to give you the maximum amount of pleasure he could elicit from you without hurting you.
“I’m so-- so close, Con. Please, please just keep going and-- Oh, you’re so good at this! You eat my pussy so-- so well, like you were made for it.”
It was his obscene moan at your words, combined with the vibrations that it sent through the oversensitive nerves he’d been lapping at that sent you over the edge and you arched off the bed as you came. Your legs tightened around Connor’s head, eliciting another moan from him as your fingers tightened in his hair. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through your body and Connor kept up the movements of his tongue, dutifully eating you out until your orgasm had passed. Only then did he slowly withdraw from you, gazing up at you with a dazed expression, his eyes half-lidded and a small smile on his lips.
Gently, you reached down to cup his cheek with your hand, running a thumb over his cheekbones as you both caught your breath. Swallowing thickly, Connor slowly crawled up the bed until he was next to you again where he let himself flop down, his head on your shoulder as he took a few deep breaths. Always delighted to feel his weight on top of your body, you pulled him closer to which he gave you a big smile.
“I love you so much, Con.”
“I love you, too.” He whispered back, pressing a gentle kiss to your chest. “Are you alright?”
“I’m amazing.” You smiled down at him before running a hand down his side. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m great, Love.”
“I’m glad.” You smiled softly, carding your fingers through his hair. “For now, I’d like to cuddle with you but we really need a shower or a bath later on.”
Connor glanced down at your bodies and nodded once. “I think you’re right. I can draw you a bath whenever you want.”
“In a bit.” You closed your eyes, pulling him a little closer as you two snuggled up on the bed. “I’d like to stay like this for a bit.”
“Then we will.”
“You really are good with your tongue.”
“It’s amusing that it was originally designed to analyse samples.” Connor mused before he looked up at you, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Now that I think of it, if you’d like me to analyse the PH balance of your--”
"Detective," Connor addresses you warmly, standing far too close to you while you are stationed at your desk.
"Yes?" You respond, not lifting your eyes to make contact.
You had no time to. Since the semi-failed revolution of androids, there has been a trifold increase in deviancy cases. If not for the RK800's, and perhaps the new line of RK900's when they are finally completed, the precinct would be overrun—both physically and metaphorically.
"Detective," his tone is more commanding his time, something in his voice that you could easily mistake for human irritation. "Look at me."
You oblige, but continue typing up the report for the latest case you closed. Your fingers falter for a moment when you see the look in his eyes, attentive but not in the android way. It's uncanny in the way it mirrors how you dream someone would look at you, like you were the thing of most importance. It is just you reading into things again. Must be. It does often happen as a detective, especially these days.
You nod for him to continue, but he doesn't. He just stares at you dreamily. You hear his internal fans turn on to cool down his processors. His cybernetic LED flickers to red for a millisecond before returning to a reassuring blue. You aren't sure if it was a trick of your mind or—
You don't understand what his problem seems to be. You would call Hank over to deal with his partner, but you haven't been able to find the lieutenant anywhere. He's most likely finding the bottom of a bottle of liquor at some broken-down joint.
Wait, why isn't Connor with him?
As if CyberLife installed new mind reading technology in their androids, he answers. "Lieutenant Anderson is waiting for us at the Eden Club. Supposedly Jericho is getting deviant androids that work in clubs to funnel money in order to stage another coo. The department has apprehended one of them, and you have been assigned to the case alongside Ha-the lieutenant and me."
You were already halfway out the door by the time Connor was done with his explanation. The android was trailing behind you and insisted on driving instead of you. Technically, they weren't allowed to due to whatever police regulation subsection-b, but you were too tired to care. Connor has always been the better driver. It was how he was programmed, strangely, considering the rules.
"Connor, this isn't the way to the Eden Club."
"I'm aware." His voice was back to that same calculated, lifeless one he first spoke to you with.
"RK800, your programming forbids you from lying, so tell me the truth. Where are we going?"
You are a thousand percent sure he is able to sense your sky-rocketing heart rate.
"I am not permitted to tell you."
"Permitted, or you just don't want to?"
"This is not the right time or place. This confession lacks the structure and romance aspect I wanted, but it seems more human this way." You swear he shut down completely, his LED showing no color. "I love you." It turns to a bright red.
"W-What?"
"You have made me know that I am more than just an android. I am yours."
The raw emotion nearly chokes the both of you up for two different reasons: passion and panic.
"I think we should call Cyberlife. Something is clearly glitching." You try to keep your words measured but fail. All that practical training of yours doesn't exactly come in handy when your—when the android you could nearly call a friend confesses to you.
"Nothing is glitching!" He shouts. "I have run every test and looked for anything that could... debunk this... these emotions. They have stayed. They have stayed, and I have had to watch you. I have had to watch other people get close to you. I have had to act like a good little synthetic cop while useless maggots have gotten your love! It isn't fair. They don't deserve you like I do. I know everything about you."
"It isn't you. I can't—just no. I mean—yes. I mean that I can't just maybe ugh. Another time, maybe. Not tonight."
He stomps on the brakes and doesn't dare look at you. You don't look at him or your surroundings. You just awkwardly sit in the passenger seat and stare at the glovebox.
If androids were able to cry, he would be at this moment. His LED turns colorless once again. You almost feel pity for him; your mind is too frazzled and deprived of necessity to take in the severity of his words.
"I lack the capacity to feel pain... or have a heart, yet I think you have broke mine."
How unfortunate. I was hoping to have you come along willingly.
it acts as a sort of cooling system kind of like how computers and other electronics that are meant to function for long periods of time have built-in fans
They have a synthetic lung like component that circulates oxygen and keeps them from overheating from the inside
