Connor x Reader
Fandom: Detroit: Become Human
Words: 627
*Trigger Warnings* mild violence (Hank’s yelling, not actual harm), workplace tension, android discrimination, light flirting
You didn’t ask for an android partner — but you didn’t mind one either.
Working under Lieutenant Hank Anderson meant you were already used to unpredictable moods, overflowing files, and a partner who claimed to hate androids almost as much as early mornings. So when Captain Fowler informed you that *you* would also be assisting the new RK800 prototype, you didn’t argue.
Hank did enough arguing for the both of you.
“I don’t need a damn machine watching over me,” Hank muttered as Connor followed the two of you across the bullpen, walking with that immaculate posture that somehow made people even angrier.
“Hey, c’mon, Hank. He’s not doing anything wrong.”
Connor’s LED flickered in mild confusion.
Hank scowled at you like you’d chosen violence.
You were halfway through processing a crime scene when Connor crouched beside you, his eyes glowing faintly as he scanned evidence. Hank hovered in the doorway, arms crossed, broadcasting disapproval like a nuclear signal.
Connor leaned slightly closer, tone gentle.
“Detective, I believe I’ve identified—”
“Connor,” Hank barked, “if you say the word ‘analysis’ one more time—”
“Hank!” you cut in, exasperated. “He’s trying to help.”
Connor’s eyebrows lifted a fraction.
You could swear you heard a soft chime — relief?
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
You didn’t know androids could sound almost… shy.
It quickly became a daily routine.
Connor offers help.
Hank threatens to break something.
You swoop in like Connor’s unofficial bodyguard.
When Connor tried handing Hank his coffee?
“I don’t need caffeine delivered by a glorified Roomba.”
You snatched the cup before Connor’s LED could flash to yellow.
“Hank! Drink your coffee and be nice.”
Connor looked at you with something suspiciously close to *gratitude-coded admiration*.
When Connor reported an observation mid-case?
“I swear to God, plastic boy—”
“Hank!” you snapped again.
“Stop verbally assaulting Connor.”
“I’m not assaulting him,” Hank said.
“I’m verbally educating him.”
“You’re traumatizing him!”
Connor blinked slowly.
“I am… not traumatized.”
“Don’t lie for him, Connor.”
Connor had no idea whose side he was supposed to be on.
Androids weren’t meant to stare — but Connor did.
Not in a creepy way.
In a processing something unfamiliar, intriguing, possibly mission-critical way.
Whenever you defended him, he straightened.
Whenever you smiled at him, his thirium pump kicked up a fraction.
Whenever you touched his arm while pulling Hank away from throwing hands… well, he almost blue-screened.
One afternoon, Hank stormed off after yelling something about androids ruining society.
Connor looked at you, LED spinning.
“Detective… Why do you defend me?”
You shrugged.
“Because you’re trying. And because you don’t deserve to be yelled at every thirty seconds.”
He tilted his head.
“I find your empathy… statistically rare.”
A beat.
Then:
“I like it.”
Your heart skipped.
He noticed.
His LED flickered for half a second before returning to blue.
You pretended not to see.
He pretended not to malfunction.
The next time Hank tried to “educate” Connor, you stepped between them again.
“Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor said from behind you, “I believe Detective Y/L/N is preventing further physical altercations.”
“Damn right I am,” you muttered.
Hank threw his hands up.
“You know what? Fine. You two can babysit each other. I’m going to get lunch.”
He stomped off, leaving you and Connor standing close — too close — in the empty hallway.
Connor looked at you with something warmer than anything you’d ever expect from an android.
“Thank you… for protecting me.”
You smiled.
“Anytime.”
His LED glowed a soft, steady blue.
But his eyes — they were doing something entirely human.
I love rk1k and idk why it always rubs me the wrong way when peeps be writing conner as uwu ✨soft boi✨? I love it in small bursts like. He can be really cute and soft, but this boi is a badass. And I wish I could see more of markus just being in absolute astonishment of the skill and badassery of conner. Like terrified yet turned on by how heckin scary conner could be from an outside perspective. Yknow?
This is so valid I do not know where to start.
Connor is definitely badass, what with taking down armies and all that, and he’s been programmed to be a killer machine under his cute facade (there’s that part where he openly told Hank the purpose of his puppy face design). I think it is precisely that outer appearance that misleads people. He might be a newborn deviant in that sense, he might come off as naive (because clearly he is discovering new things every day) and maybe he is gentle, deep down, but that doesn’t, in any way, negate his badass side.
Pretty sure, at least from my POV, that Markus saw the badassery potential in Connor the moment he suggested infiltrating CyberLife alone. If it were anyone else, Markus would have decided against it, but he knew Connor was probably the only one capable out of all his people, so he trusted him with the task.
I think the portrayal of Connor being soft is, in the end, a matter of taste. I personally lean more towards a mixture of soft and terrifyingly hot. But as a deviant, I think Connor would be more peaceful. So he probably would have occasional outbursts of badassery, but otherwise he wouldn’t harm/hurt anyone on purpose. (Maybe this is what makes people read him as soft)
At the end of the day, I love rk1k because it portrays, in my eyes, a good balanced dynamic. If Markus is peaceful, I’d assume Connor would be too. They have a common aim and they would do anything to reach it (including being badass). That’s what makes them compatible.
connor had always been prone to distraction – by cases, by little details in human interaction, by you. but lately, you’ve noticed that animals have caught his attention. when you two were out in the city, connor’s eyes would follow the path of an arcing bird; sometimes he’d stop right in the middle of a sentence, or even physically halt to watch the bird fly by. usually arm in arm with him, this behaviour could earn him a sidelong glare from you, but all traces of your irritation would be wiped away whenever that look of calm wonder crossed his features.
after stormy nights, he took care to not step on any snails who had decided to come out of hiding. he’d watch his footing, a small smile on his face when they didn’t retreat into their shells, even as his big shadow stretched across them. he’d urge you to be careful, too; one time, he’d pulled you back so urgently that you and he nearly toppled backward. “they breathe just as humans do,” he merely voiced, watching the small, lone land snail glide across the pavement inch by inch. before you could tease him about how dramatic that was, the hint of an unknowable sadness on his face made you bite your tongue. cupping a hand to his jaw, you made him look at you before offering a kind smile. “connor: defender of the snails,” you mused, and he only shook his head with a small smile as he pulled you against him again to continue your way downtown.
while running an errand in the mall, you had just walked out of a shop to greet the waiting connor when you had caught him staring across the concourse. behind the window of a restaurant sat a small tank, blobs of oranges moving within the blue. you knew connor’s android vision could see the fish much more clearly than you, and his processors would’ve probably already analysed their species by the time you gently pulled him out of his stock-still stance. there was a strange look on his face, but he didn’t say anything about it. led swirling and brows furrowed, he was quiet on the whole way home, as if an unexpected memory wouldn’t let him go.
you surprised him on a day off with the preposition to go to the aquarium – his eyebrows lifted in response, mouth agape before it lifted into a smile. you knew he was still insecure about his smiles; he tended to opt for small grins and smirks as opposed to teeth-baring beams. but no matter – you could still see the kindness, the humour, the love he wanted to display through the gestures. so when he pulled you close, whispering “okay” in your ear before he moved to change, you couldn’t help the blush rising in your cheeks.
detroit’s aquarium was wonderfully big, hosting all kinds of aquatic marvels: small seahorses and thick eels, vibrant crabs and starfish, sleek sharks and sleepy turtles. inside it was kept dark, only dim floor lights serving as a guide through all the tanks. it felt intimate, despite the presence of others, for in the darkness, it was only you, connor, and the fish.
connor moved slowly, taking his time with the displays. his face always wavered close to the glass, eyes wide with wonder. in a low voice, he’d rattle off facts and statistics to you; fish do not generate new scales, rather increasing the size of existing ones and like humans, fish can actually drown in water if there’s not enough oxygen. optimal levels have proven to be between–
you were only half-listening, for you’ve been here before, had read all the information plaques in your youth. while some fish caught your attention – the delicate little krill trilling in the water, for instance – your gaze mainly stayed on connor. his voice was bright and lilting as he spoke, even through the hushed tones. he was utterly enraptured; sometimes he’d even stumble over his words, surely a sign that he was trying to process too many things at once. you could only smile at his childlike curiosity, never letting go of his hand.
the big cylindrical tank in the middle of a dark room was where you two spent most of your visit. inside, jellyfish floated on invisible currents, drifting, rootless. its dark blue light fell over the two of you, bathing you in the enigma of a contained piece of deep ocean. connor was silent now, nose practically pressed against the glass – somehow, you managed to supress a giggle. you wondered what he saw in all those colourful fish, these transparent tentacled creatures.
“what are you thinking about?” you whispered, snaking an arm around his waist and leaning into his shoulder. never taking his eyes off the floating jellyfish in front him, which seemed to be uncannily watching him back, he accommodated your form against him, vaguely registering the notion of how well you two fit together. his expression was contemplative; awe having been subdued to a kind of wistful consideration. “there are more than two thousand types of jellyfish,” he murmured, lifting a hand to touch the glass. “and they are one of the few species of aquatic life able to adapt to the increasing amount of ocean dead zones. they are colonising while other species are withering.” you turned your gaze to the floating specimens, subconsciously mimicking connor’s signature head tilt. you had gotten better at reading connor, and knew that whatever was on his mind was well beyond such two-dimensional facts. but you didn’t pry; sometimes he needed time to figure out how to articulate his emotions, his thoughts; thoughts that were now limitless and unhindered by programmed boundaries, thus requiring more time to be fully realised.
you did not know why the jellyfish had fascinated him so, but you stayed with him for however long he remained standing there, hand pressed to the glass in a manner which struck you as longing. you decided to leave him to his own devices for a while, visiting the crustaceans again to laugh at their amusing shifts and squabbles.
when you returned, it looked like he hadn’t even moved. gently, you hugged him from behind, entwining your hands with his own while pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “come on,” you cooed, feeling him coming alive again at your touch, “you once told me you liked gourami fish. they’re next.” connor looked back at you over his shoulder, face softening.
the last exhibit indeed hosted dwarf gouramis, and discus, and guppies. the small, colourful fish were so endearing that you couldn’t stop smiling, one even trailed your finger as you lazily hovered it over the glass. when connor heard your soft laugh, a rush of affection flooded his vision with all kinds of warnings, but he quickly dismissed them all. the temperature rise, the thirium pump’s extra strain, the software instability – he knew by now that it was simply love. when you looked at him, about to call his attention to this peculiar fish seemingly trying to nibble at your finger through the glass, he graced you with one of those rare, dimple-cheeked smiles. it almost brought you to your knees, and it definitely brought you to his lips – your kiss was gentle yet searing, and connor was smiling into it, holding you by your elbows as you grasped both sides of his face.
it was in the shadowy twilight of the ocean blue hue and darkness that connor kissed you again and again, basking in the wonder of life, in the compassion of your being and in the curiosity of the surrounding fish. he was so, so happy, unable to wipe the smile off his face even if he were to issue a command to his processing centre. emotions were not governed by his software – they were governed by his heart, by this soul he had somehow managed to find along the way.
“i really enjoyed today,” he whispered into your hair as he held you, both watching the slow movements of a round, lime-green fish overturning pebbles in search of food. “thank you,” he said, pulling you just a little closer. he let his eyes close, if only for a moment, to bask in pure contentedness. “i love you.”
