#rk800xreader

[tongueofcat]

Magic Lessons

Chapter Thirteen: Morning

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor RK800/F!Human Reader

Tags: Innocent Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Smut, Father-Son Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)

Word Count: 6,782

Masterlist | Link to Ao3

Notes: Guess who’s back with the longest chapter (so far) that contains practically nothing?? Me!! It’s pure fluff, I’m so sorry. Also some like… set up for later, but nothing too serious. I think. Anyways, enjoy!

Morning is just dawning when you begin to wake; you can tell because dim light is filtering through your semi-sheer curtains beside your bed. The first thing you notice is your nose is freezing, so naturally you move to rub it. This motion is blocked by the second thing you realize: you’re being held. Connor’s arm is curled around your form and his face is nuzzled into your hair. You have no problem with this, but your nose is an icicle, so you try to move his arm. It won’t budge. You frown and come to the disappointing conclusion that you will have to wake your boyfriend. Is wake the right word? You aren’t entirely sure, to be honest.

“Connor…” You whisper, squeezing the arm you attempted to move earlier.

You can feel his muscles tense in his arm, then relax; his face stirs from atop your head, then lifts away. He squeezes you with the arm that’s draped over your body.

“Good morning…” Damn, even his voice sounds like he just woke up; it’s a delicious mix of his normal tone and soft huskiness. You feel your face heat up a little, but press on.

“My nose is cold.” You manage to turn your body around to look at him. His LED is cycling a calm blue as he blearily smiles down at you. Does he have some sort of sleepy morning protocol? Before you can ask that, however, he lifts his arm to gently rub at your nose with his hand.

His skin isn’t as warm as a human’s, but because it was in contact with you throughout the night and under the covers, it wasn’t exactly cold, either. You lift your own hand to join his, feeling more relief with the two of you working together.

“Alright, I think we’ve got it. Thank you for your assistance.” You giggle and he nods, smiling and retracting his hand. His arm falls gently across your waist and then he closes his eyes.m

“Um… are you still sleepy?” You ask, curious at his behavior: usually he’s very alert. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he does reward your question with a soft huff of amusement.

“I suppose you could translate my current state to being fatigued, yes,” Connor replies, voice soft and husky still, “I was not originally designed for the amount of stimuli that needs to be processed during sexual intercourse. A lot of data is created and it becomes overwhelming, but not in a negative way.”

Worry bubbles up in the pit of your stomach; it feels like a black hole is sucking the contents of your body into the abyss. Was Connor damaged in some way? He must notice your concern, for he leans in and presses his forehead to yours, his eyes still closed.

“Your heart rate is elevated and you’re secreting trace amounts of cortisol… what’s wrong?” He murmurs, his cool breath serving to calm your nerves a little.

“Should we not have sex?” You ask gently. He shakes his head, and by doing so, rubs his forehead gently against yours.

“No. Unless you do not want to engage in sexual activities any further,” He sighs softly, adding, “I just need to find a more efficient way to process incoming stimuli during sexual intercourse. Perhaps I should look into more sophisticated software when it comes to sex… I just have the base programs that came with my installed sex organ.”

“So… you overwhelmed your processors last night? Because you were taking in too much information?” You ask, trying to confirm if you’re understanding him correctly.

He nods, “Yes. I did not go into full stasis until I was done organizing all the data that was created last night.”

“I could ask my friends at work who are androids, if you’d like?” You offer and he pulls away to look at you.

“That… might be a good start. I will check online and do some research as well.” Connor leans back into the pillows and his eyelashes flutter close. You smile down at him before sitting up and sliding out of bed.

You yawn and stretch, lifting your arms over your head and shaking the sleep off of you. The faux-wood laminate floor is cold, and you shiver as you pad over to your bathroom and flick on the light. You mindlessly go about your morning routine, only pausing to get a good look in the mirror when you’re brushing your teeth. There’s several hickeys on either side of your throat, serving almost as bookends for the now-healing swaths of bruises going down the column of your neck from the hostage assault. Good thing you didn’t need to go to work and just focus on recovery for a week… otherwise you’d be having a bitch of a time covering one of them in particular.

With your free hand you gingerly prod at one of the hickeys near the top of your throat, just a hair or two under your jawline. You anxiously poke at the reddish-purple mottled skin and hiss a little at its tenderness; you can even see teeth marks from Connor if you squint hard enough. It’s nothing you can’t handle, you just didn’t expect this sort of behavior from him. In fact, if you were completely honest with yourself, you liked it, even if it meant for roughly a week or so you’ll be dabbing concealer and foundation on your neck whenever you want to leave the apartment.

Then you hear your name, soft and sleepy from the main room. You pop your head out of the bathroom, “Yeah?”

“I am reasonably certain I am experiencing a bout of loneliness…” The android whines, still sounding gravely and tired. You snort and spit your toothpaste out and wash your toothbrush and return it to its charger. Then you turn off the bathroom light and walk back over to the bed, plopping down beside Connor’s resting form.

“Not that I don’t adore your company, Connor, but don’t you have to go to work?” You ask. He shakes his head into the pillow, eyes still closed.

“No. Well, not exactly. I am on call this weekend.” He explains. You perk up at this knowledge, “Oh, neat! I’m off this weekend as well — the entire week, actually! Except for, you know, college stuff.”

Connor pries open one eye to look up at you, “You don’t have work for a week?”

You nod, smiling sheepishly, “My manager gave me the week off to rest and recuperate. She even sent me some contact information of therapists in the area I can afford… which I should look at now.”

“That’s nice and very good for you. I am glad.” He closes his one open eye and you stand up to go searching for your phone. You find it on the coffee table within a few minutes and look through your notifications and messages.

The first message you see is from Diana. You press the message log tab with your thumb, willing it to open.

Diana (Snow): No worries. I’m glad you’re feeling better.

Diana (Snow): Do you still live in that apartment complex near downtown? I want to bring you some ukha - it’s like a fish stew.

Diana (Snow): I will not take no for an answer, Crybaby. Just tell me a good time and day to bring it over. Preferably give me a day in advance; I do not work miracles.

You smile at the messages and work on a reply

You: How does Monday sound? I don’t know your schedule, but maybe noonish? Does that work?

Then you go back to your messages to finally look at Dawn’s messages.

Dawn: Here’s the list of potential counselors that provide sliding-scale therapy in the downtown Detroit-area…

- Marina Mansoor: Clinical Social Worker/Therapist LMSW (she/her)

- Arthur Baird: Licensed Professional Counselor MEd, LPC (he/him)

- Augusta Blink-Wilde: Psychologist PhD (they/them)

Each name was followed by a link to their prospective page. With your current educational route being psychology with the aim to become a therapist, you were familiar with the degrees and titles behind their name and professions. You decide to go through the pages in order they were provided.

First was Marina Mansoor. The website lists her key specialities as: Trauma/PTSD, Stress, and Veterans. She’s only accepting online patients at the moment, which was perfectly fine. Your eyes gloss over the site, noting just how pretty she is: probably in her late 30s or early 40s with beautiful straight black hair, brown eyes, and flawless light brown skin. In her picture she’s offering up a gentle smile, which gives her points in the approachable category. You note this and continue to the next linked professional.

Arthur Baird was next. His picture is the first thing you notice: a pale, ruddy-cheeked plump man with hair so blonde it appears almost white, along with piercing blue-green eyes, circular prescription glasses, and a well-manicured beard. He reminds you slightly of Santa Claus, but you can’t tell exactly how old he is — he could be either in his late 30s or early 50s, you had no earthly idea. The website lists his key expertise as: Anxiety, Sexual Abuse, and Trauma/PTSD. He is accepting patients in person and online. He seems very sweet, but you continue on to the last person listed.

The last page is devoted to Augusta Blink-Wilde’s practice. They are the youngest-looking of the three so far, you note, just glancing at their bright-eyed and bushy-tailed picture makes you smile. They are in their early 30s at maximum. They have amberesque eyes, some sort of hazel, maybe; clear, smooth brown skin with a smattering of freckles, and textured hair that’s dyed a beautiful ombre purple-to-blue and styled in chunky box braids. Their speciality is listed as LGBTQIA2S+, Trauma/PTSD, and Self Esteem. They have a little quote underneath their picture: ‘dum spiro spero - while I breathe, I hope.’ You assume it’s Latin, and appreciate the sentiment it holds.

You spend a few moments considering your choices: all three take sliding-scale payments, all three specialize in Trauma/PTSD (which you would classify your situation to best represent), and they all seem nice enough. You bite your thumb in thought as you look over the pages some more.

“You know,” Connor murmurs, halfway into his pillow from the bed, ”The lieutenant has this turn of phrase: you are thinking too loud; I can hear your brain’s gears grinding from all the way over here. I used to think it was purely hyperbolic, but I swear I can hear them… the gears.”

You snort, turning off your phone and letting your arm fall to your side, still grasping it. You join him on the bed and run an affectionate hand through his hair, “If anyone has gears in their head, it’s you, dork.”

“We have been through this: I am not a dork; I am a highly socially adept individual,” He muses, obviously enjoying the physical attention of head scritches, “Also, I don’t have gears. My anatomy and physiology is more advanced than that.”

“Hmm, that’s just what I’d say if I had gears in my head, Connor. You’re not going to convince me so easily…” You smile, taking your hand away and moving to lay down beside him. It doesn’t take long for him to realize what you’re doing and accept your attempts at snuggles.

“I could append the part of my Administrator’s Manual that goes over my general anatomy, if you would like.” His head eases into the snuggling by resting his chin on your head. You sigh, the sound amused as you close your eyes and say, “No, Connor, I guess I’ll just have to believe you.”

“Good, I’m a valuable source on my own body…”

“Nerd…” You whisper, letting yourself relax and drift off.

…

You’re mildly awoken to a buzzing coming from around your middle. It’s annoying, so you grumble a little until it stops… only for it to start back up a few minutes later, fully waking you up. You groan softly, groping blindly at the source of your displeasure, eventually finding it and bringing it to be inspected by your judging eyes.

Oh, it’s just your phone. It lights up at your touch, it’s only been a couple of hours since you last checked the time. You unlock your phone and scan the updates: a lot of advertisements from apps, some social media notifications you’re going to continue to ignore, then a few text messages. You pull the first one up from Allison, which surprises you: you haven’t spoken to her since you found her unconscious in one of the VIP rooms at work looking like a puffed-up stress doll.

Allison (Candy): Hey, just got discharged from the hospital this morning. I heard he hurt you, too. How are you doing?

You frown; you should have messaged her first, shame on you. But, you’ve been distracted, so you’ll just have to make it up to her somehow.

You: Hey!! How are you? Are you in pain?

You: Don’t worry about me!! I’m fine and dandy. What are you doing?

You see the little typing bubble pop up and Allison responds fast.

Allison (Candy): Yeah, but they gave me the good shit. Had to have surgery on my face, which apparently they did immediately because the swelling wasn’t that bad. I can’t imagine it being worse from the pictures I saw, but I’m not a doctor. He fucked up my face… but the doctors are confident I’ll look normal, not disfigured or whatever. Which is a plus, I guess.

Allison (Candy): I’m just glad I’m alive. Last thing I remember before blacking out is thinking wow, I’m going to die at 23. Anyway, Mama Dawn gave me as much time off as I need for physical and mental recovery �� maybe we could meet up and commiserate?

Allison (Candy): Or rather, if it’s ok, could you come visit me? I don’t want to be a walking source of entertainment for strangers… I’m staying with my parents, but they’re nice and supportive. I love them, haha, I’m so glad they’re here to take care of me.

You wonder if your parents would take you in if you were rendered ill or needed help recuperating from a physical ailment or even became disabled. You frown because you’re honestly unsure — your parents didn’t know what you did for a living for a reason: they would not support it in the slightest. Hell, they didn’t even support you going to college to become a therapist. You’re glad Allison has the support she needs, but feel bittersweet all the same.

You: I’m glad you have a good support system in your parents. I’m also glad you’re still with us! I can visit this week, what day and time would be good for you?

You exit the chat log and navigate to Hannah’s messages, composing a new text.

You: Hey, remember when you told me you were seeing someone and you were trying out some new program or something? The spicy program? Do you have a link to that…? I promise it’s for a good cause!

The chat ‘…’ bubble appears immediately, followed by a message from Hannah.

Hannah (Pearl): Yeah, sure!

Hannah (Pearl): Optimized Sexual Stimulation Delegation, or OSSD? Funny because OSSD also stands for Output Signal Switching Device, which is kind of what this prevents in androids… well, not exactly, but it’s close enough that I find it funny!

Hannah (Pearl): Wait, do you need it for an installed penis attachment or installed vagina attachment? I have the latter.

Hannah (Pearl): Also, why would you need it? Ooo, are you seeing an android? My preferred payment is dirty little details, Magic!

You groan, but respond all the same.

You: Fine. I’ll tell you, but I need the goods first. I need the one for androids with an installed penis attachment.

Hannah sends you a message back in record time.

Hannah (Pearl): I think I’m the one who gets to make the rules here, since I have the so-called ‘goods’ you require. Details or no spicy OSSD program for you!

You groan again, causing Connor to squeeze his hand on your hip, a wordless check-in with you. You nuzzle your forehead affectionately into his neck, soothing him before typing back.

You: This is entirely unfair and you know it!

You: Ugh, okay but I haven’t even told Seth/Sunset yet, really. He will have my head if I don’t tell him first…

Hannah wastes no time.

Hannah (Pearl): Then tell him!

You force yourself not to groan for the third time in a row and drag your metaphorical feet over to Seth’s chat log and type out the message.

You: Don’t freak out.

You: I’ve started dating the android we talked about.

Then you maneuver yourself back over to Hannah’s chat log.

You: Did it, are you happy?

You: I’m dating the android detective that was there the night Allison/Candy got assaulted and I was made a hostage. He’s really sweet… his name is Connor.

The chat bubble pops up so fast you stop typing out your next message.

Hannah (Pearl): You’re dating the Deviant Hunter????

The Deviant Hunter. Connor had referred to himself once as that at Pandora’s Box. Before you can respond, she adds.

Hannah (Pearl): Not that he goes by that anymore, but Magic he’s super infamous for that within android society. Most say he redeemed himself for his actions during the tail-end of the revolution, but some androids say he’s still a dog of the human police state since he works for the DPD.

You take in that information. Connor had previously confessed to sins against his people and humans before, when you first got intimate at the club in the VIP room. He seemed, at the time, really torn between what he wanted and what he thought he deserved because of his past. Connor’s soliloquy from that mind comes to the forefront of your mind:

‘I was created to inflict pain and manifest horror within the souls of my victims, the enemy of my creators. I was called the ’Deviant Hunter’… I’ve killed people, my own kind while I was an unthinking machine. I… am not sure I am able to properly please you; I am not sure I’m worthy of your touch, let alone your affection.’

Your brow creases in thought, letting his past words wash over you. He seemed so sad…

You snuggle closer into Connor, garnering a nuzzle to your head and another squeeze on your hip. You continue to text with Hannah.

You: He’s definitely not the Deviant Hunter anymore. Connor is sweet and incredibly empathetic. I think he regrets his past and is actively trying to atone for his actions.

Hannah responds within a minute.

Hannah (Pearl): Good. When I became deviant after escaping my owner, I was absolutely terrified of him finding me. Thankfully, I found shelter quickly and was able to wait it out until after the revolution.

The idea that Hannah had to endure all that, even if she was summarizing her experience down for you… made you feel absolutely awful. You wanted to know more, but ultimately decided now is not the time.

You: That’s awful. I’m glad you’re here with us and safe now. I promise, Connor isn’t scary once you meet him.

Then you get a pop-up message from Seth. You thumb at it and pull up his chat log.

Seth (Sunset): PARDON MOI? DATING? GIRL…

Seth (Sunset): Didn’t you just get frisky with this guy? Hasn’t it only been, like, a few days since y’all met?

Seth (Sunset): What’s the rush, sugar lumps?

You frown and stamp out a quick response.

You: I said not to freak out!

You: He asked me out and I said yes! Sorry at the speed at which my life story progresses?

You: Also the last bit is sarcasm.

Then you navigate back to Hannah’s page just in time for her to send a link.

Hannah (Pearl): I was able to find the installed penis version of the OSSD program files for download from an android-run online community. It’s where I downloaded the corresponding installed vagina one. Hopefully it is what you guys are looking for!

As you’re reading that, she then adds.

Hannah (Pearl): Sorry if I came across as rude. I’m sure he’s fine, but I cannot help the image my psyche has created of him. Knowing he’s kind and sweet does soften it, though…

You quickly reply.

You: Thank you, Hannah. I understand and appreciate you!

Then you send the link to Connor via text. Before popping back over to Seth.

Seth (Sunset): Whatever, girlie-pop. Just be safe.

You send him a heart emoji and lock your phone, letting it fall from your hands to rest on the small slice of mattress between you and Connor.

“Thank you for the OSSD download link. This appears to be what I need to run optimally during and after sexual intercourse.” He whispers into your scalp, his breath tickling you a little. He sounds much better, more awake now.

“You sound better.” You point out.

“Did I sound bad before?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss onto the top of your head.

“No, you sounded sexy, honestly. Like a tired teddy bear.”

“How is that image you described sexy? Are you attracted to ursine stuffed toys?” Connor says.

“No! That’s stupid!” You blurt, causing him to laugh more.

“Sure. Have you eaten yet?” He asks and you shake your head against him, “We should feed you.”

“But I’m cozy!” You whine, pulling him flush against you. You snuggle into his neck and you can feel the vibrations of his laughter through his synthetic skin.

“Come on, I need to feed my human. I do not want you to become malnourished.” Your stomach feels like a bunch of butterflies are swarming around when he says ‘my human.’ You pull back to look at his face, and he opens his eyes to look at you in response to your moment. He smiles at you and you smile back.

“Maybe I can be convinced…” You divert your eyes from his and he breathes an amused breath through his nose.

“How can I convince you?” He leans in a little and you giggle.

“Guess!” You look back at him and he sighs fondly before closing the gap between the two of you. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips and you make a happy, muffled sound of contentment. Then he pulls back and begins to sit up, stretching his arms and bending and unbending his fingers to recalibrate. You follow suit, sitting up beside him. He gets up first, plucking his briefs and trousers from the floor and pulling them on; he zips and buttons up, but ultimately decides to stay shirtless… which is distracting.

The skin of his neck is littered with little love bites, little blueish-purple marks. When he turns to make his way to the kitchen you can see the angry little nail scratches you’ve left behind, the same color as the hickeys. Okay, maybe he’s extremely distracting without a shirt on. You’re not going to complain though. Instead, you hop up and join him in the kitchen.

Connor moves to open your refrigerator, but then turns sheepishly to you, “May I look at what you have?”

“Oh, yeah, sure!” You blink and nod. He smiles and turns back to the fridge, opening it and peering into its contents. He takes a quick scan of it, then closes the fridge, padding to the nearest cabinet and opening it. This continues with every drawer and the pantry closet. Then you watch him curiously from the entrance of the kitchen, his LED whirring yellow.

“Is there anything you would prefer for breakfast?” He finally asks and you shake your head and laugh gently, “No. Also, you don’t have to cook for me, Connor.”

He flashes you those puppy eyes, “But I would enjoy it…”

You sigh, “Jeez, alright then, Connor… but I’m helping, okay?”

“I am perfectly capable of cooking on my own, you know.” He chuckles, but you detect a hint of defensiveness in his voice. So you press, “Never said you couldn’t cook, but I am curious: how long have you been cooking, Connor?”

He frowns at you.

“Oh come on, tell me!” You smile sweetly at him. He rolls his eyes, something you’ve never seen before, and crosses his arms.

“Since December 2038. So, approximately as long as I’ve been active. I started cooking for the lieutenant to help with house chores and hope to improve his overall health.”

Oh, that’s precious. You smile sweetly at him, “That’s very sweet, Connor.”

“I care about the lieutenant. It seemed like the least I could do.” He offers you a lop-sided smile in response to your compliment.

“Alright then, Chef Connor, what’s on the menu, today?”

His smile brightens and he turns to the refrigerator.

“I was thinking of a standard American breakfast: eggs, bacon, and toast. Unless you want something sweeter as your main carbohydrate; we could make pancakes… you have the ingredients.”

“Ooh, pancakes! I haven’t had pancakes in a while…” You muse behind him, walking further into the kitchen to peek curiously from behind him, into the fridge as he opens it. You had just gone grocery shopping, so you’re pretty well-stocked.

“You have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” He smirks at you and you pout, but keep your mouth shut. But then he turns back to the fridge and starts to pull out butter, the egg carton, the milk jug, and the package of thick-cut smoked bacon. He sets them down on the counter and you follow him around the kitchen like a duckling; Connor finds your skillet and places it on the stovetop. You watch as he turns on the archaic oven, letting the gas-light click three times before the flame fires up. He goes to the sink and washes his hands and returns to the counter after drying them on a paper towel.

He then opens the sealed package of bacon, cutting it with a pair of kitchen shears he finds in the utensil caddy by the stove. He glances back at you, as if he’s gauging something, before gingerly peeling a piece of bacon from within its packaging. The android makes fast work of adding a total of four strips of bacon to the already hot skillet; with each new addition there’s the start of a satisfying sizzle from the bacon. With a steeled focus, Connor watches over the bacon as they pan-fry in their own grease, taking care to flip them over when they are ready with a pair of tongs. You manage to peel your eyes away from the shirtless chef and retrieve a paper towel and plate, placing the paper towel on top of the plate and setting it beside the stove, near Connor.

“Thank you, that will help collect the grease.” He breathes, unable to stop himself from explaining the use of the equipment you provided him with. You snort and nod, “Yeah, that’s why I did it. It’s almost as if this isn’t my first rodeo.”

He sighs, shaking his head as he starts to transfer the cooked bacon strips to the plate. You take a big inhale through your nose and exhale dreamily: it smells wonderful in the apartment and it’s only going to get better. Connor looks down at the skillet and frowns.

“Do you have another pan? I would like to continue cooking, but I cannot dispose of the excess grease per city guidelines until it solidifies and can be scraped out and thrown away.”

“You can use the bacon grease to cook the eggs, too. Instead of using butter as a pan lube.” You grin and he raises an eyebrow.

“Pan lube. The usage isn’t incorrect per say, but I’m still somehow offended. Impressive.”

“Oh hush. Here, I’ll crack the eggs for you!” You turn your attention to the carton of eggs and pluck two out from the container, placing them in a bowl before returning the carton to the fridge. Then you take the eggs out of said bowl and tap each egg firmly on the edge of the counter. In one swift motion you dump the contents of both eggs in the bowl. You then toss the shells in the trash bin.

“Do you want them scrambled?” You ask. Connor smiles at you, his eyes crinkling fondly with the expression, “That depends: what is your preference?”

You flush, feeling dumb and manage to mumble, “Scrambled.”

“Good choice.” He moves around you, grabbing the milk jug and uncapping it, then he pours a very precise splash of milk into the eggs before returning the jug to the fridge. He retrieves a whisk from the utensil caddy and whips at the eggs, turning the yellow yolks and whites into a coherent mix. He salts and peppers the liquid before slowly pouring it into the skillet. The egg sizzles in the hot pan, almost immediately puffing up and cooking through. He takes a heat-safe rubber spatula from the utensil caddy and works the mixture around the greased pan.

“I think I’ll just have toast,” You say suddenly, previously mesmerized by your android boyfriend cooking shirtless for you, “I don’t really feel like cleaning up sticky syrupy shit… plus, I’m not sure I’m hungry enough for a stack of pancakes. Two slices of buttered cinnamon toast, though, now we’re talking.”

Connor doesn’t look away from his task, but speaks up, “If you are concerned with cleaning, I would be happy to handle dishes after you eat; I don’t mind it, I do the dishes at home for the lieutenant often. If I don’t he just puts all the dishes and silverware unwashed, caked with food matter, into the dishwasher…”

You shake your head, “I appreciate it, Connor, but no. I’m not going to let you make breakfast and clean up, too. That would be rude.”

Connor simply nods, accepting your answer. You pick up the bowl with egg residue and place it in the sink. Then you go to the closet pantry and proquire the foretold cinnamon bread loaf. You unwrap it and take out two pieces, plopping them in your toaster and pressing down on the trigger that starts the toasting process, before wrapping the bread up again and returning it to its home in the pantry. When you make your way back to Connor’s side he’s folding over the greasy paper towel on the bacon plate to plate the scrambled eggs. He scrapes them gently out of the pan before placing the skillet in the sink and pouring water on and into it. The pan hisses at the contact of cold water, steam rising to meet him briefly before it settles down. Once Connor is satisfied with the soaking pan, he moves to stand behind you before hugging you from behind. He rests his chin on your head.

You reach up to grasp onto his arms encircling you and begin to shift your weight from foot to foot, starting to sway the two of you as you both idly wait for the toast to finish. There’s a toothless smile plastered on your face; it’s been a while since you’ve been in such a domestic scenario with someone.

It feels nice.

Then the toast pops up and you squeeze his arms and he releases you without a word. Carefully, you take each slice of toast out and slather butter on each slice with a butter knife. Once the cinnamon toast is buttered to your standards, you put up the butter in the refrigerator and hold up the plate of food triumphantly.

“Behold! A joint-effort breakfast!”

Connor laughs and you set the plate down and busy yourself by pouring a glass of orange juice. Then you take your breakfast to the couch, since you don’t have an actual kitchen table you usually eat in front of the coffee table or on your bed. You sit and then realize you forgot a fork… you frown uselessly at your plate of delicious food.

“Forgetting something?” Connor asks, holding out a fork for you.

“Oh, my hero! Thank you.” You gladly accept the utensil and begin to dig into your meal. The android comes to sit beside you and leans back into the couch, resting his eyes. You glance over at him, concerned, “Still tired?”

He shakes his head, “I’m focusing on downloading the OSSD executable now.”

“Do you want the WiFi? Would that help?”

He opens an eye to look at you, “Yes, if you are offering. That might allow the download to finish faster.”

You relay your WiFi information to Connor and he takes it all in, his LED spinning a soft yellow as he plugs in the WiFi name and password. Then he smiles, “Thank you.”

You continue eating, savoring the fluffiness of the scrambled eggs and how the salt in pepper is actually inside the eggs, not just sprinkled on top. They’re also slightly creamier, probably due to the addition of a little bit of milk. Then you’re munching on bacon and watching Connor out of the corner of your eye. He seems so zen as he relaxes back into the couch, his arms splayed up on the top of the cushions, one arm even behind yourself. He breathes in and out evenly, LED spinning yellow as he does so. If you weren’t informed of what he was doing you would maybe guess mediation.

You finish your breakfast and set your plate down on the coffee table in front of you. You yawn and lay down on the couch, setting your head squarely in Connor’s lap, causing him to open his eyes and peer down at you.

“Are you comfortable down there?” He gives you a small, amused smile. You nod, closing your eyes, “Yup.” One of Connor’s hands lifts off the couch to stroke your head soothingly.

The two of you enjoy some quiet time, just appreciating each other’s company. You don’t exactly fall asleep, but your consciousness does drift through your week so far and what you’re going to be doing on your week off work as well as college assignments coming up. Then you hear your name and it eases you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?” You haven't even opened your eyes yet.

“Your body heat is dropping. I suggest either getting more dressed or a blanket.” Connor’s voice comes from above and you giggle softly.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I’m not going to get hypothermia.”

“There is, in fact, a non-zero chance of it.” He quips and you groan, slowly getting up.

“You just want to watch me undress… then get dressed. Weird kink, Connor.” You mock grumble, getting up off the couch to pilfer through your closet. The android chuckles from the couch, “If caring about your wellbeing is a kink, then yes, I have that kink.”

“That’s not—“ You pull the green, chunky-knit sweater dress over your head and throw it into the hamper, “—what I said, and you know it!”

You look through your closet, standing there naked practically frigid in the cold air of your apartment. A shiver runs through you, coaxing you forward. You open the dresser that you’ve shoved in there, behind the hung clothing, and proceed to slip on a random pair of cotton panties. Then you force the old wooden thing to close before stepping back and selecting a black spaghetti-strap tank, a red hoodie and a pair of black leggings. Then you close your closet and begin to put your clothes on.

“Maybe you are onto something, I am invested in your outfit getting on your body.” Connor smirks from the couch. You roll your eyes and refuse to honor his silliness with a response. You hop into your leggings first, then put on the tank, before finally pulling the hoodie over your head.

You make a lackluster pose for Connor’s amusement, “Tada!”

He claps his hands for you four times, standing up and walking over to you. Mind you, he’s still shirtless and distracting as all get-out. You look up at him, raising an eyebrow at his yellow LED.

“What are you scheming?” You ask.

”Why do you assume that I am up to something?” Connor’s LED settles back to blue and he winks at you; your heart does a little somersault at that. He lets out an amused exhale through his nose before pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you around the middle fondly and you reciprocate the hug, snuggling your face into his synthetic skin.

“Today has been nice.” His voice comes from above you. You make a small sound of agreement at his sentiment.

“Sometimes it’s nice to just do nothing with someone you care about.” You pull away to look up at him and he looks down at you. His hair is still messy, tousled primarily from your sexual encounter last night; his eyes are warm and brown, crinkling with affection and he’s smiling serenely down at you. Wordlessly, the two of you lean forward, your foreheads pressing together affectionately.

You close your eyes and take a deep, calming breath through your nose. You can feel Connor’s cool breathing fan over your lips before you let out your exhale through your mouth.

“I like you… a lot.” You find yourself saying. From your close proximity you can hear the soft movement of Connor’s mouth pulling up in a smile.

“I like you a lot, too.” He replies and now you’re smiling, too.

The two of you stay like that, holding each other in the middle of your studio apartment. It feels so nice to feel like this… but eventually you do pull back, but not before giving Connor a peck on his cheek. He smiles at that and releases you. You sit down on the edge of your bed, grabbing your phone and unlocking it. He joins you, looking curiously over your shoulder.

“Unsurprising, you are popular.” He points out, probably talking about the bubbles holding the amount of messages, emails, and notifications various apps have. You snort, shaking your head, “Not really… nosey!”

He chuckles. You look at your messages, most of it is promotional texts from a few brands you follow. You navigate back to the list of counselors in the downtown area. The three counselors had been in the back of your mind this morning… and the more you thought about it, Augusta Blink-Wilde stood out to you the most. They may be new in their practice, but you didn’t mind. You compose a new patient email, asking for an in-person appointment. You send the message off and lock your phone, leaning against Connor.

“Connor…” You whine, “I’m bored. Entertain me!”

He chuckles beside you, about to say something when his body freezes. You look up at him and his LED is spinning yellow. Then he relaxes and begins to speak, “Yes, lieutenant, I am still at her apartment. Oh, I apologize, I forgot to message you before going into stasis last night.”

Ah, he got a phone call. You snuggle into his side and let him focus.

“Like I stated, I meant to message you. I am sorry I caused you to worry about me, but I am fine. Uh, let me check…” Connor turns to you, looking a little sheepish, “Would you like to go to the dog park with the lieutenant, Sumo, and I?”

You perk up, interested, “Uh, sure! But, won’t it be muddy?”

“It is always muddy. Sumo gets a bath after playing.” He smiles back at you. You nod, “Sure, lemme grab my boots.”

“She said yes to joining us. We will not be long, I’ll call an automated cab. See you soon, lieutenant.” You hear the rest of Connor’s conversation. You snatch your black leather boots from beside the door and then rustle through your sock drawer for some thick boot socks. You sit on the couch as your android boyfriend plays ‘where are my clothes’ around your apartment, picking up each discarded article of clothing and putting it back on, sans the chest gun holster. He slides on his dress shoes as you’re tapping the tip of your boots to fill them snuggly. Then you both make your way to the door.

“I called a cab, it should be here in two minutes.” He slides on his blazer, glancing at you for confirmation that his actions were ok. You nod, “Sounds good! It’s puppy time!!”

He smiles warmly at you.

“Yes, puppy time.”

[biggestxsimps]

Hi! I wanted to request a Connor(dbh) x male reader story. I'd love to read more of your stories!

Morning Routines

A/N: Thank you so so much for the request! I haven't played DBH in a while so apologies if Connor’s a bit ooc. This hasn't got as much romance as I was hoping it would, but I hope it's still alright. Just let me know if something is off and I'll fix it.

The sound of loud beeping wakes you up, you grunt as you turn, snoozing the alarm. Collapsing back on the bed, you look over at your boyfriend beside you. His LED starts to turn on as he opens his eyes. You run a hand through his hair "G'morning Connor" You rasped, flashing him a lopsided smile. His yellow LED flickers before remaining blue "Good Morning Y/N '' His lively voice ringing in your ears. He smiles as you lean down, planting a kiss against his lips. The two of you share a passionate kiss before you slowly lean away, properly sitting up on the bed.

You stretch your muscles, hearing a couple pops. You steadily get out of bed, still dazed and tired, you make your way to the bathroom. You hear Connor shuffle out of bed and his footsteps heading to the kitchen. You splash some cold water on your face, the feeling waking you up. You slick a few pieces of flyaways down, deciding to fix yourself up after you've eaten.

You make your way to the kitchen, the smell of (Favourite Breakfast) filling the house. You watch as Connor gets it ready, clearly focusing on perfecting it. You walk over to him, placing your arms around his waist, smiling into his neck. "Thank you, Love" Connor grins as he puts it on a plate, turning to place a chaste kiss on your cheek before setting the plate on the dining table. "Of course" He replies, the both of you sitting down.

The two of you talk as you finish your breakfast, conversations of work, plans for the next week and the wellbeing of each other fill the kitchen. You stand once you've finished your meal, bringing your plate to the sink to wash it, you stop as you feel a hand on your shoulder "I'll do it, get yourself ready" The brunette tilts his head as he grins. His soft voice making your heart swell, you thank him before making your way to the shower.

You lean your head back as the warm water hits your chest, taking a quick minute to relax before actually cleaning yourself up. You're out of the shower a few minutes later, you put on your work clothes, quickly drying and styling your hair before brushing your teeth. Once sorting yourself out, you go back to the living room, seeing Connor waiting for you on the couch. You sit next to him, bringing an arm around him as the two of you watch whatever was playing on the tv. Your head moves to lean on his own placed on your shoulder, softly kissing his forehead. The two of you sit in peace, relaxing as the quiet murmurs of the tv filled the room.

A/N: Thank you so guys for the requests, we really appreciate them!

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

[writinginstability]

Deviating Love Affair - Part 2

PART 1

Soulmate AU with DBH Connor

Pair: Connor x Female! Reader

Prompt: In this universe, you are supposed to receive a tattoo of your soulmate’s name on your 18th birthday.  However, you being the lucky winner, never received one on that special day.  After years go by, you began to accept the fact that maybe you were never destined to have a soulmate until one day, on August 5th, 2038, you see a certain individual’s name gets written on your wrist.  Not only is it odd that your soulmate tattoo wasn’t given to you on your 18th birthday but that in reality, your soulmate isn’t even human.

Word Count: 1749 words

A/N: Hi friends! I’m back with another part!  Just an FYI, I skipped through “The Nest” chapter since I didn’t think it really fit with how I wanted the characters to develop so we are just going to pretend that never happened.  I’ve also skipped through some other chapters from the game that I thought were too boring and I really don’t want to bore you guys.  This part and the next one are going to be kind of slow but I swear it will pick up a little....hopefully...I don’t know.  

Feedback is always appreciated and I know this part sucked so nitpick all you want! (I need it because writing is really not my strong suit). 

Connor was facing a dilemma.  He knew what his purpose was, how he was supposed to hunt deviants and search for their source of deviancy.  He also knew that he was a machine, a machine who was not supposed to feel emotions or disobey his master.  However, the moment he met you, everything seemed to change within him.  He no longer truly knew what he was or how he was supposed to act.  For the first time ever, he did not know what to do.

Connor opened his eyes and was met with the sight of the peaceful Zen Garden.  The words, “Talk to Amanda” appeared at the corner of his eye.  Connor looked around the area before landing on Amanda’s figure standing on the center island by a wall of roses.  He slowly made the walk to her while trying to formulate proper sentences which would not upset her nor make him lose her trust.

Once Connor had reached a comfortable speaking distance from her, he introduced himself, “Hello Amanda.”

Amanda looked over her shoulder before replying, “Connor, it’s good to see you.”

Amanda smiled at him before snipping off a flower in front of her.  She proceeded to congratulate Connor on successfully locating the deviant as well as properly extracting a confession.  She also praised Connor for his achievements while also asking a series of questions of what he has discovered along the way.  

Amanda paused for a moment as she sprayed her flowers with water.  Connor had hoped that their conversation would be over so he wouldn’t have to face any more of her questioning, especially ones involving you.

“Both Lieutenant Anderson and Officer (Y/L/N) have been assigned to the deviancy cases.  What do you make of them?”

Connor paused for a moment, carefully thinking of what to say.  “Lieutenant Anderson seems a bit dysfunctional.  He clearly has some personal issues which impact his professional behavior.  He also seems to want to have nothing to do with this investigation or Androids overall.”

“Unfortunately, we have no other choice but to work with him,” she replied, “What about the other?”

Connor paused once more, but this time, he was taking more time to properly say what he wanted to say without upsetting Amanda.  But what could he say?  He couldn’t tell her that he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since last night or that the image of your smile was engraved in his mind.  After careful thought, Connor spoke again, “She seems to be very invested in her work, unlike her coworker.  However, she also seems to be troubled by something, more troubled the moment I introduced myself to her.  Overall, she’s a very intriguing character and I wish to learn more about her.”

Amanda stopped what she was doing and slowly turned around to face Connor.  “More and more androids are showing signs of deviancy.  If they are not stopped, destruction and chaos will occur.  You are the only one who can stop this outcome.  There are no room for...distractions,” she ended, clearly referencing Connor’s description of you.

Connor nodded as he watched Amanda walk away.

You anxiously tapped your fingers on your thigh as you sat on your couch.  You kept glancing over at your phone which sat face down on the coffee table, taunting you with its presence. You were eager to call Hank and talk to him about the events of last night and what it had felt like to meet Connor; however, you were worried about how he would react which kept you from making the call.  

After a few more minutes of you contemplating whether or not to bother your easily-annoyed coworker, you picked up the phone and pressed the dial button on his profile.  

“Hello?” Hank asked.

“Do you think, and I’m asking out of full curiosity, it’s possible for someone’s soulmate to be an android?” you asked without warning.

“What?” Hank asked.  

“Do you think it’s possible for someone’s soulmate to be an android?”

“Hell no, Androids aren’t alive; they aren’t meant to have soulmates.  Wait, why are you even asking this?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with your question.  

“Think about it Hank, my tattoo says Connor, my soulmate tattoo says Connor.  The next Connor I meet just happens to be an Android detective working with us, this has to mean something.”

“Oh hell no, you don’t actually think that that plastic cop is your soulmate do you?”

“Just hear me out Hank,” you replied.

“Look kiddo, I don’t have time for this,” he said as he threatened to end the call.  

“Hank!” you exclaimed, stopping him from doing so, “just listen.”

You heard Hank sigh through the phone before he replied, “Continue.”

“Last night, when I met Connor, it wasn’t like I was just meeting another Android, it was like I was meeting another human being.  And, I don’t know, I just can’t stop thinking about him, how he acts, how he talks.  It’s like I’m a teenager all over again experiencing a first crush or something and it’s driving me insane.  Last night was the first time I’ve felt like that with anyone in a very long time and I can’t just ignore it,” you said.

Hank stayed silent for a couple of seconds as he processed everything that you had just said.  “Please say something,” you begged, worried of what Hank might think.

“I don’t buy it,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think the universe made you wait this long for a fucking Android.  You deserve better than that,” he replied.

Before you could object, Hank had already ended your call, clearly thinking that you were delusional.  You leaned your head back against your seat while running your fingers through your hair in frustration.  Maybe you were crazy and maybe you were in over your head; however, nothing else could explain these rush of feelings from the night before.  

The next time you ran into Connor was later that night when you heard someone knock on the front door to your apartment.  You carefully put down your cup of tea before getting up from your seat to answer the door.  You truly did not expect to see Connor standing at your door.  

“Hi Connor,” you said with a bit of surprise, “What’s up?”

Connor looked at you up and down for a split second, noticing how you had on black rimmed glasses for a -1.00 prescription and you were wearing comfortable loungewear.  

“Hello Officer, sorry to bother you so late.  I have just received word of another deviancy case just downtown and wanted to inform you.  I also thought it would be better if you were with me before I talked to Lieutenant Anderson.”

You smiled and nodded before replying, “Come in, just give me five minutes.”

You took a few steps back, opening the door wider, allowing Connor to walk in.  Connor looked around your home thinking to himself that it was very cozy and comfortable for one person (maybe even two).  

“I’ll be right back, but make yourself at home,” you said before retreating to your bedroom to get dressed.  

Connor took this opportunity to learn more about you, in hopes to better his relationship with you.  The first thing that caught his eye was the lonesome white mug on your island which was still steaming.  Connor took a second to analyze the contents of the cup.  He noticed that you had brewed a cup of tea, assuming it was your favorite, with exactly 15 grams of sugar.  

Connor exited your kitchen and came across a photo album which sat in the middle of your coffee table.  He picked up the book and noticed a photo of you and Hank with the words, “Happy Birthday” engraved on its cover.  

Connor opened the book and flipped through the photos of you and your presumed close friends at the DPD and various locations in Detroit, all of which had you in mid laughter or with a huge smile on your face.  Connor found your smile so charming and genuine.  He lightly traced the outline of your face with his fingertips, the edges of his mouth turning slightly upwards.  He was so captivated by your photo that he failed to notice you had already left your room and was standing next to him.

“What are you looking at?” you asked as you tried to tame the stray hairs on your head and pull them in a proper ponytail.

“I was-I was just looking at your photo album,” Connor said, somewhat startled by your presence.

You laughed slightly before placing your hand on his shoulder, “Sorry for scaring you.”

Connor quickly glanced at your hand, the warmth of your fingers seemed to burn through his skin.  

“Do you want to see something funny?” you asked, snapping Connor out of his thoughts.

Connor nodded slightly before handing the photo album to you.  You quickly flipped to a certain page of the album and pointed at a picture of you and Hank.  Connor studied the picture for a bit, trying to understand the situation.  

“Is that Lieutenant Anderson,” he paused, “in a crab costume?”

You laughed inwardly before replying, “Yes, yes it is.  This picture was taken on Halloween and we made a bet the night before.  Basically, if the Detroit Gears beat the Boston Celtics, I would have to wear a ridiculous costume of his choice; however, if the Celtics won, Hank would have to wear a crab costume.  Guess who won,” you said in between laughs.  

Although Connor did find Hank’s appearance to be very entertaining, he was completely drawn to your laugh.  The pictures he had seen in your booklet did not truly capture the beauty of your smile.  The way your eyes crinkled up, how your eyes literally lit up, and how the sound of your laugh was very pleasant to listen to, almost like a melody.  Your laughter made Connor begin to smile and for the first time, he had experienced genuine happiness.  

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

“Anyways,” you said before your eyes met with Connor’s.  

You both froze for a brief second getting lost in each other's eyes.  After a few seconds, you shook your head slightly and cleared your throat, breaking the silence between the two of you.  You closed the photo album in your hand and placed it back in its original position.  

“Ready to go?” you asked Connor.

Connor nodded before following you out of your apartment and into the cold night air of Detroit.  

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[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Glucose Rich Foods

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader (who menstruates, but pronouns gender neutral)

Warning: N/A

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You’re having a rough start to the day due to your period, Connor tries his best to make you feel better. 

“You are bleeding, Y/N.” 

“Connor...can we not mention that right now, really loudly...” You glance around the station, its relatively empty at this time of morning, but there are still other officers and detectives around. 

“Why? If you are hurt then you need aid and to ignore it would be illogical.” You watch Connor’s head tilt to the side, brow furrowing in confusion. Its obvious that while he knows your bleeding, the nature of that bleeding is unknown to him. 

“I’m not hurt...” You lean forward and whisper, hoping the others in the Police Station don’t over hear, “I’m on my period.” It’s silly to be embarrassed by something which is undoubtedly natural and human, but you work in an environment that is testosterone fuelled and you know the reaction to those words being said out loud would be negative. You’d be made fun of, teased, receive looks of disgust. The usual comment about your period when you snap at someone or tell them off. 

You watch Connor’s LED go yellow for a few moments, most likely checking the meaning of the word and taking in any information necessary to discuss such a topic with you. You didn’t mind telling Connor, not only because he was your friend...and perhaps something more, but because he viewed things factually, logically, and you knew his response would never be negative. 

“Ah. I see.” He seems mildly embarrassed, most likely realising its not a topic so openly talked about. But, Connor rarely lets embarrassment stop him from pushing a topic further. “Are you...uncomfortable?” Since becoming deviant Connor had been even more concerned for the comfort and feelings of you and Hank. Now understanding them a bit more himself. 

“Yes...I spent the morning trying to get blood out of my sheets and my stomach hurts...” You’ve learnt being open and honest with Connor is often the best bet. He can tell a lie when he hears one and as he has told you on many occasions he believes that friends are supposed to share truths. 

The worst way to wake up was covered in blood and despite the precautions you’d taken to avoid it, it had still happened, most likely you’d move oddly in the night. 

“Perhaps, you should take the day off? Rest? If you are in pain...”

“Connor, as sweet as the thought is...i’ve had my period since I was 12. I have gone to school, to work, and survived. Its not nice, but i’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” You smile up at him because its so obvious he’s concerned, but you’ll be okay. You and every other person who menstruated had to go through this every month and you’d survive it, go home, have a shower, and eat a load of junk food. 

You reach up and press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you for the concern though.” Before moving to your desk, sitting down ready to work on the reports you had to write. You glanced over to see Connor still stood there, the processing yellow of his LED staying rather consistent before he seemingly worked through the problem, tightened his tie, and walked to his own desk next to Hank’s. 

You were rather grateful that today was a day of paper work rather than patrols or cases. You weren’t in the mood mentally or physically to go chasing after criminals. So you got stuck in, writing reports, taking statements, filing missing persons’ reports. Despite the discomfort in your stomach, the horrible feeling between your legs, and the craving for sugar, you managed to focus and work rather efficiently. You knew Connor would be proud of the level of work you accomplished, even if no one else was. 

You were so focused on almost didn’t notice when Connor walked up behind you and place a plate on your desk. “What’s this?” You look up at him, after glancing at the plate which featured a rather large slab of your favourite cake.

“According to forums, internet posts, and information pages, people often crave sugar and glucose rich foods when menstruating. I thought cake might make you feel better.” You had learnt that androids could in fact blush, although the slight blue tinge to his cheeks was barely there compared to the red of many humans. The thought itself was so sweet, that you almost felt like crying, a side effect of your hormones being slightly out of wack. 

“Connor...thank you, this is so sweet. You didn’t have to!” You don’t want him to feel obligated to look after you. 

You watch him smile, sweetly, his smile has always been sweet and brush that falling lock of hair back into place. “I know. I wanted to you. You are my friend and you are uncomfortable. I wanted to make you feel better. That’s what friends do, correct?” You know he’s teasing you, that he’s reminding you that yes you’re friends, and yes, he doesn’t feel obligated to do things. He is his own person now and if he wants to give you cake he will. 

“You are something else, you know that? One of a kind.” You watch the blue tinge deepen slightly on his pale face, watch the LED flicker yellow slightly before turning a serene blue. 

“You are one of a kind, as well. I hope you know.” You watch him wink in perhaps one of the most awkward fashions possible and stumble over the words, still unused to giving compliments and receiving them. Connor is still learning how to be more than just a machine and its both interesting and endearing to watch him figure out how to respond and react to the affections of those around him. 

But what makes Connor most endearing is that when you are having a rough day, when you’re bleeding, grumpy, and in pain, he tries to find ways to make you smile. He is sweet, kind, and yet a good detective. One who can scare a confession out of a suspect or win a fight against multiple assailants. He is a complex android, person, and you find yourself endeared by those complexities and his unfailing kindness. 

It helps that he’s rather easy on the eyes as well. 

[selfships-in-spanish]

I dont sure about,how many times ,ou read fanfictions,feom ao3,but there is an interesting one,called :"Deviant Behaviour".The whole writing is wholesome and mindblowing,and full of plot twistes, and also its a rk800xreader fanfiction 👀 I really do reccomend this one to you,bcs i think,you would like it!🌸💜

BRUH I FUCKING LIVE IN AO3 IT’S MY LIFE SUSTAIN 

Okay I’m gonna go look at it because I am in dire need of reading some good stuff 👀

Thank you so much hon!!! :D

[tongueofcat]

Magic Lessons

Chapter Seven: Small Talk

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor RK800/F!Human Reader

Tags: Innocent Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Smut, Father-Son Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)

Word Count: 2,552

Masterlist | Link to Ao3

Notes: The Connor brain rot is taking over my mind, someone call the police… but, can I request a certain android to arrest me? Hehe… I’ll see myself out.

Connor and you begin to converse to pass the time before he needs to leave — first you ask him about Sumo’s birthday party and he perks up even more, enthusiastically talking about Sumo.

“The lieutenant let me know in passing that Sumo’s birthday was yesterday, the 11th. Anyway, I was so upset that he just told me this, two years into knowing Sumo! I had to get him two birthday gifts to make up for lost time!”

“Yesterday? What time is it now?” You wondered aloud and Connor chirped, “It is 12:05 am.”

“Didn’t you get here at like 10 pm?” You ask and he nods.

“Approximately 10:11 pm, yes.” Connor pressed a tender kiss on your head — he was turning out to be super physically affectionate and you were not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Still, you two got… distracted for a while.

You shake your head, urging yourself to focus on the remaining time with him, “What kind of dog is Sumo?”

“The cute kind. He is a very good boy.”

“Like you?” You smile, pressing your face into his neck. Connor lets out a slow, measured breath, allowing himself to chuckle through his reaction — this android really likes praise.

You giggle, nuzzling your nose where his carotid artery would be, “Breed, Connor. I was asking what breed Sumo is.”

”Oh, of course. Forgive me,” He clears his throat and supplies, “He is a Saint Bernard.”

“Awww, big puppy dog!” You coo and he nods, careful not to bump your head too much.

“He’s a big boy! He’s very good at snuggling, too.” Connor sounds so happy talking about this dog it’s adorable, “Sometimes he sleeps with me in my room.”

“I thought Sumo was the Lieutenant’s dog?” You ask innocently and Connor nods again.

“Since the end of the android revolution I have resided at Lieutenant Anderson’s house. He gave me his spare room, even when I told him I did not need a room or a bed. He is so stubborn… I tried to explain to him I do not need to lie down to go into stasis, but he would not accept it.” The android explains fondly, one of his hands finding your thigh and rubbing it lovingly.

“Sounds like the Lieutenant really cares for you. That’s really sweet.”

Connor hums happily before confessing, “I really care about him, too. I know androids don’t have nuclear families, but I see him as a father-figure. I… would never tell him that, though.”

“Why not?”

Connor laughs gently, the sound a little anxious before he gets more solemn, “I wouldn’t want to upset him by potentially bringing back memories that make him sad — he had a son once, but sadly he died at a young age.”

You let that sit in before sighing, “I think I understand. That sounds like a tough situation to be in.”

“It’s not bad, actually. I can live without telling the Lieutenant how I feel towards him… I’m pretty sure he knows enough: that I’m his friend and partner.” Connor says and you squeeze the android’s middle. He makes a hum of approval, squeezing you back.

“Tell me more about you.” He smiles into your hair and you close your eyes, flipping through potential fun facts about yourself.

“I’m a dancer.” You offer that meager crumb about yourself, a fact that is basically public knowledge, given your current profession.

“I would have never come to that conclusion,” Connor sasses you, then he says your name, “But no, honestly, tell me something I do not know.”

“I’m an only child. Is that interesting enough for you, detective?”

“Hmm, I wonder what that is like?” Connor says and you kiss his neck.

“You make it sound like you have siblings, Connor.”

“Well,” he begins, thoughtfully squeezing your thigh to punctuate the end of his ‘well’ before he goes back to kneading your thigh, “You could argue I do: aside from myself, there was another RK800, who the Lieutenant executed in the CyberLife tower — as well as RK900, who I have met only a handful of times since the revolution ended. RK900 looks almost identical to me, with a few physical attributes changed, whereas RK800 was an exact copy.”

His words were a lot to process; a part of you wondered if he should even be divulging this information to you, especially the part about the lieutenant killing the other RK800 android. As you mulled it over, Connor seemed perfectly unbothered, using the quiet to kiss more affection into your scalp and change from squeezing to rubbing circles with his thumbs into your thigh.

“How is RK900 different from you? Also, does he, ya’know, have a name?” You ask, deciding to side-step the whole murder detail. He chuckles warmly.

“Are you going to replace me? He’s technically considered my ‘upgrade’…” Connor says, keeping his voice as light as possible. That said, you can’t help but wonder if you upset him in some way, so you nuzzle his neck.

“Nope! You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not, Connor — what was it — RK…”

“RK800.” he smiles, providing you with his model line number; you nod, “Right, RK800! Don’t ask me to recite your… serial number? That’s what the long number is, right?”

Connor nods, returning to his new hobby of kissing your head, “Mhm…”

“Still curious about how your brother is different from you, though. Don’t worry, I won’t run away with him like some wacky soap opera.” You say and he sighs into your hair, his lips tickling your scalp.

“RK900 has light gray-blue eyes and he is slightly broader than I am. If I am recalling my most recent memory of him correctly, I believe he’s approximately two inches taller than me. Last time I spoke with him he had shed the name ‘Connor’, our line name, and goes by ‘Nines’.”

“Ew!” You blurt and he pauses his thigh rubbing in surprise, murmuring a soft, confused, “Ew?”

“Your brown eyes are, like, your best feature!” You huff, your breath hot on his neck. Connor laughs heartily, squeezing your thigh affectionately.

“Oh?” He asks, obviously chuffed as well as amused.

“Connor, were you honestly concerned I’d suddenly be more interested in your android brother — a man I’ve never met — than you?” You asked and he fell quiet, so you threw out an additional, “Connor?”

“No!” He suddenly says, obviously pulled from his thoughts; his voice rings with mild petulance.

“Very convincing answer, Connor.” You snort, a smirk playing on your lips. For a detective android he really sucked at hiding his emotional inflections if you pushed his buttons the right way. He huffs like the sassy brat of a man he is and then goes back to kneading your thigh, letting his fingers sink into your flesh one by one in a line.

A soft silence falls over the two of you and eventually your eyelids get heavy and you concede defeat, closing them. You slowly drift off in his one-armed embrace, your breathing getting slow and rhythmic. It was so nice to be held, to receive physical affection that, so far, seemed genuine. The last time you felt this adored and safe seemed so distant, even though you had just broken up with your ex-boyfriend roughly a year ago. You fall into a peaceful slumber, one you would consider dreamless if you didn’t know humans always dreamt, even if they don’t remember it; in the corner of your mind you wonder if androids had dreams.

Then you hear your name.

“Mmm…” you mumble back at the voice, still partially asleep. You hear laughter and your lips curl in a small smile, mirroring their amusement. Ultimately though, you just nuzzle into something soft and tepid with your nose.

“Hey, wake up…” The voice politely asks and you press your face further into the curved softness.

“No… comfy…” You whine and there’s more laughter; you’re squeezed around your middle and on one of your thighs. Your brow knits together and you grow irrationally annoyed — how dare someone try to wake you up when you’re so tired? So rude. You didn’t deserve this treatment. Despite this, you were slowly waking up, senses returning to you in a slow march…

“Please?” You recognize the voice as Connor now, which makes his ‘please’ more persuasive than the average person. You continue to mumble into something soft and warmish, “Why…?”

“Because it’s 2:36 am… I need to get home soon to achieve a sufficient charge via stasis.” Connor kisses your head and being told the time is like he dumped a bucket of ice water on you. You awake with a jolt, all your senses slamming into you at once — you even cause Connor to jump slightly, not expecting you to become cognizant so quickly.

There was a line of drool coming from your mouth, which you wiped away immediately with the heel of your palm. You pull away from that softness, Connor’s neck, which now glimmered with some of your saliva under the red lights of the VIP room. Music is still thumping through the carpet, some sort of slowed reverb song playing.

“It’s past 2 am?! Hell, I fell asleep, I’m so sorry, Connor…” you apologize but he just gazes at you sweetly. He shakes his head.

“It was nice, holding you while you slept.” His words soothe your soul slightly, but you still feel bad.

“Still, it had to be boring… just sitting here while I slept.” You reach over and wipe the bit of drool you left behind on his neck.

“Trust me, it was very fulfilling. I was not bored.” He sounds so sincere.

“Well…” your eyes catch on his, “I should walk you out, huh?”

Connor smiles, his eyes crinkling and shimmering under the strobing lights, “Kiss me first?”

“Yeah…” you say, dumbly, before leaning in and pressing your lips against his. It’s pretty tame compared to the previous kisses, but it’s still really nice. He pulls back first this time, pressing his forehead against yours.

“If I didn’t have to charge, I would stay with you all night.” Connor confesses, then he sighs, and you notice his eyes do look a little tired when you pull away and examine him. You briefly wonder what his charge is at now — is he like a phone with a battery percentage?

“Yeah… I know. Because you’re a sweetheart.”

“Hmm, you keep saying that…” His eyes are so pretty and have such depth, you’re briefly lost in them. Then he squeezes your thigh, pulling you from your reverie.

“Right, right… I’ll escort you to the door, dear sir my most cherished patron…” You slide off his lap and stand; you stretch your arms above your head, closing your eyes with a yawn. It’s only when your eyes open again when you notice he’s standing, too, eyes studying you, his LED spinning yellow.

“I want to be more than just a patron to you.” He says and you almost die of heart failure. Ok, that’s hyperbolic, but you are pretty sure your heart skipped a beat, something you thought only happened in romance novels and not in real life.

“Connor, I…” Your voice dies in your throat. Then he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, eyeing you. What is he, a star in a mushy romcom? Still, you’re trapped under his spell.

“I want to see you again, may I?” He asks, lips hovering over your knuckles. You feel like a frog has gotten lodged in your throat. There’s a short period of time where everything stands still, and it’s just you and the android in front of you — nothing else matters.

“Yes…” You nod dreamily, smiling sweetly at him, “Yes, Connor, I would like that very much.”

“Good,” He plants a kiss on your hand, “I’ll text you tomorrow?”

“I look forward to it.” You breathe and he relinquishes your hand. You nod and place your hands on your hips, garnering a curious look from the detective.

“Alright, operation escort the prince out is a go! Come on, Connor!”

He chuckles, making sure to say, “Lord now a prince? I’m moving up in life.”

“Hush! Follow me…” You begin to lead him out of the red VIP room. Then you weave through dancers and clientele alike to get to the door. You peer outside through the glass — it was still wet outside, but it wasn’t raining anymore. Connor comes to a halt beside you, wet blazer folded over his arm. You turn back to him, looking up into his eyes.

“Did you drive here or take a cab?” You ask, as if you’re trying to stall him leaving. He smiles, fishing out a set of old car keys from his slacks — rare these days in the time of wrist implants syncing with modern cars, among other methods.

“I borrowed the lieutenant’s car for the night.”

“I see…” You shift your weight from heel to heel, full of anxious energy, “Well, I guess this is goodbye, Connor.”

“For now, yes.” The android confirms. Then he dips down and pecks a chaste kiss on your cheek. Immediately, you feel eyes on you — many, many curious eyes. He pulls back and you’re about to scold him for PDA when you see his smile. God, he’s so happy and cute… you could stare at him all day and night, so all you can say is, “Goodnight, Connor.”

“Goodnight…” he says your name and tears his eyes from yours, walking out of the building, swinging the keys in a circle with his pointer finger. The doors automatically open for him, then close and he fades into the night.

“Was that him? That had to be him.” Sunset’s voice comes from behind you and you swear you jump two whole feet in the air. You turn, jabbing a finger on his sparkly chest, “Sunset!”

The beautiful gay man snickers in front of you. You pout, crossing your arms, glaring daggers up at him.

“Whoa, hey now, do I deserve this treatment? Me, a fine young, innocent thing currently suffering from a Grade A wedgie in this little number.” He gestures down to his crotch: he’s wearing some sort of lacy red thong. You snort and he joins you, adding his own little chuckles.

“I haven’t seen you since I talked to you earlier tonight. Were you macking on The Terminator this whole time?” He asks in a tease and you huff, looking away.

“The Terminator, Sunset? Really?”

“Would you prefer RoboCop?” He coos condescendingly one hand on his hip. You roll your eyes, muttering softly as your gaze fixes back on him, “If those two are my options I’m picking The Terminator, yeah...”

“See, you need to stop questioning me and my superior brain.” Subset taps his crown twice and you snort.

“Whatever, I need to get back to work. That’s what I do here, right?” You uncross your arms and turn, walking away.

“You had me fooled!” Sunset calls and you raise up a middle finger at him, not even looking over your shoulder while you do so.

Your shift ended in roughly two hours, you could do this.

[tongueofcat]

Magic Lessons

Chapter Six: Please

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor RK800/F!Human Reader

Tags: Innocent Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Smut, Father-Son Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)

Word Count: 5,815

Masterlist | Link to Ao3

Notes: My hands hurt from typing on my phone so much. Ow. Edit - I changed the title of this chapter, I wasn’t vibing with ‘First Time’…

Connor’s hands move from your arms, encircling your body in an embrace. You’re pulled to him, and you hug him back, your head against his. There’s just the sound of the loud music of the club buzzing in your ears now, the beat still causing minute vibrations underneath you, through the floor. The detective’s head presses lovingly against yours, the pressure sweet and gentle.

“I’ve watched pornography before, but…” he begins, fingers gingerly pressing into your flesh, perfectly manicured nails dragging deliciously a part of your exposed back. You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue.

”I never understood the appeal. The first video I witnessed was so… violent? Yes, I suppose that would be a good descriptor for that video.”

“What happened in it?” You ask, curious. Connor sighs, hands coming to hold your waist, bunching the sheer fabric of the babydoll you’re wearing. He momentarily pauses to rub the mesh thoughtfully.

“This is tulle… isn’t it?” He says, catching you off guard. You pull back to look down at him, the lines of your face twisting in confusion.

“What?”

“The sheer fabric. My tactile sensors have determined, with high likelihood, that its composition is tulle. Tulle is a fabric mostly derived from silk — among other fibers — that is woven in a hexagonal pattern with extremely small openings.” He explains and you frown, which causes him to mirror your expression, only more sheepish and cute.

“Connor.” You breathe. He smiles like a child who’s scheme has been exposed.

“Yes?”

”You’re stalling, aren’t you?” Your voice comes out more stern than you were planning, and you feel the ice of guilt fall into your stomach as you watch him shrink a little.

“I—“ he tries to interrupt, to offer some well-formed excuse, but you cut him off.

“What happened in the porn video?” You ask and his mouth snaps shut, pressing into a firm line. He doesn’t look at you, instead he’s thinking, his LED whirring bright yellow.

Then he slowly speaks his mind, “I did not enjoy it. As I said, it was violent.”

You nod impatiently, “I understand that, some porn is. What occurred in it that upset you, sweetheart?”

His brown eyes travel back to you, looking at you before he lets out a sigh. He presses his fingers into the flesh of your waist before allowing his hands to traverse down to your hips, letting the tulle of the babydoll go and moving under to touch your skin directly. His fingers glide over skin and baby hairs alike, snagging on the string of your thong momentarily before pressing his digits down again, as if he relished the way it felt. It felt nice, his thoughtful touches.

”In the video,” Connor begins, his eyes traveling down, focusing and unfocusing — as if he was allowing himself to visually disassociate for the moment, remembering the source of his discomfort, “There is a man and a woman engaging in intercourse — I think it’s a clip of a longer video — the woman is pressed into a mattress and crying by the man’s hand on her head, clutching a bunch of her hair in his hand. His other hand was holding one of her hips like a vice, keeping her in place while he… I believe the term ‘use’ is appropriate here; he uses her. The man is saying derogatory words at her and there’s this… smug look on his face as he does this. It was so aggressive. In any other scenario I would think it was… a video of sexual assault.”

Oh.

Who gave this angel a video of hardcore porn as his first porn video? Evil. No wonder he’s so worried, despite wanting to engage in sexual activities. You caress his face with both hands, summoning his gaze back to you, which now looks wet and ashamed.

“Connor, that’s most likely a video of hardcore porn. Not rape. It’s not for everyone, and not all sex is like that.”

The android nods, “The lieutenant explained that to me… so, I investigated further. Based on the evidence I found I was able to find that there is a pattern of violence in most pornography.”

“Connor, why are you telling me this?” You prod, rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs into his cheeks. He frowns, closing his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you… I am… scared.” He confesses.

You reply faster than he must be expecting, murmuring softly, “We don’t have to have rough sex; you don’t have to hurt me for us to have sex. You watched some videos that weren’t as aggressive, right? Also, we don’t even have to have penetrative sex. Not right now, at least. We can just do what feels good.”

Connor’s LED spins yellow for a little while before turning a calm blue. He slowly nods, letting out a breath as if he’s been holding it in.

“Sorry I’m so difficult.” He gives you a small twitch of his lips, a tiny smile. You snort and he opens his eyes, curious.

“It’s your first time doing anything like this, right?”

“… yes.” He confirms and you nod.

“You’re not being difficult, you’re being careful. There’s a difference, Connor.” You coo, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. He hums appreciatively, kneading his fingers into your flesh.

“Thank you. For doing this with me…” your name is a soft breath on your shoulder, then he adds, “I want to try something, may I?”

You nod, but when he doesn’t do anything you offer a soft, “Of course.”

Connor’s hands travel back to your waist, gripping you securely. He moves you up and off his lap, silently coaxing you to lay back on the couch cushions before letting go. You do so obediently, and then you watch him kick off his dress shoes, neatly tucking him partially under the couch before turning back to you. He climbs on top of you, his damp tie sliding over your front as he boxes you in with his arms. He looks at you with your arms over your head, hair splayed around you like a halo, and your chest slowly rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He announces and you can’t help but smile up at him.

“You don’t have to say that, you can just kiss me, Connor.”

He leans down, nose brushing yours before he tilts his head for the impending kiss; his breath mixes with yours as he hovers over your lips, “Consent is important.”

His lips meet yours again, moving together in a breathy dance. It’s less desperate this time, more methodical, but no less enjoyable. That is… until your tongue presses against the part in his lips and, almost hesitantly, he allows you access. His mouth is cool and wet; his tongue nervously dances with yours, unsure and unpracticed. You suck on his lower lip sensually and hear him gasp softly when you do so, causing him to press his lips firmly back against yours when you release him. He surprises you when he deepens the kiss further, like he’s trying to meld together with you via your conjoined lips. It’s so passionate…

That's when you let out a muffled moan.

Connor presses another firm kiss to your lips before pulling away slowly. You chase his lips momentarily, lifting your head from the couch before conceding and falling back, looking up at him with eyes blurred with pleasure. You’re breathless.

“Why’d you… stop?” You find yourself asking and he stops examining you to give you a smile.

“Because I want to kiss you in other places,” the android dips down to your neck, pressing a kiss against a throbbing artery. He hums against your pulse, “If that is agreeable with you.”

”Very agreeable, uh huh… yep.” You fail at being sexy and cool, but he doesn’t seem to care as he licks a line up and down your neck, only to pause, retracting his tongue and offering a small, “Hmm…”

“W-what?”

“Why are you wearing makeup on your neck? That’s not commonplace, right?” Oh, he’s found the absurd amount of foundation on your neck to cover the bruises. You wonder if it tasted bad to him — wait, do androids have taste buds? Surely not, they don’t eat. If that’s the case, then…

“How could you tell?” You ask.

“My tongue was made to analyze evidence at crime scenes to aid in my investigation. I’m able to check samples in real time.” Connor explains and you close your eyes. You’re not sure if you find that gross or just mildly weird. CyberLife really got creative with that feature. At your silence he adds, “Do not worry, my mouth has a self-cleaning feature. I am not unsanitary.”

You blow an amused puff, shaking your head, “Thank you, Connor, but I wasn’t worried.”

“Then could you tell me why you’ve applied makeup to your neck?”

You raised an eyebrow, “You’re oddly fixated on this.”

”Answer me.” He pulls away from your neck to gaze at you with stern eyes. That does something for you, despite the fact he’s kinda being a mother hen scolding her child in his approach. You look away, unable to hold his eyes because you’re sure he’s not going to enjoy your answer.

“To cover up the bruises.”

His LED whirrs yellow, then turns red, “From last night…”

He didn’t say it like a question, he’s successfully put it together. You’re about to say something when he asks, “Does it hurt? Should I avoid your neck altogether?”

You think about that for a moment, allowing him time to begin to pepper little kisses on one of your cheeks. He’s very distracting, but you do manage to get out, “It’s just a little tender in places, you didn’t hurt me when you kissed my neck. I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

Connor finally pulls away from his relentless little pecks on your cheek and moves to press his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing and ultimately squishing together a little before he moves his face just to the side.

“But I do not want to cause any harm, if I can help it.”

“Connor, I trust you.” You whisper.

“Hmm…” he muses thoughtfully, then nuzzles his nose against yours, “You promise?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not detecting a lie… good.” the android pulls away from you, his knee bumping your inner thigh apart just slightly as he adjusts. You let out a very small whimper, causing his eyes to hook back to yours. Then his face becomes focused, LED spinning a thoughtful yellow.

Curiously, he presses the side of his knee against the plump of your thigh. He successfully causes you to squirm, apparently getting a reaction he found acceptable. He sits up straight, balancing his weight on his knees before scooting away from you. You’re about to whine, start complaining about him leaving when he positions himself between your legs. His face hovers over the field of one of your thighs, then he blows an experimental puff of air against the very sensitive area.

One of his hands moves to grab your other thigh, pressing his hands and fingers into the squish of your inner thigh. You gasp and he begins kneading the flesh thoughtfully, all the while breathing against the other inner thigh. Then he begins to brand his lips against the skin there, kissing a line up your inner thigh, traveling dangerously close to the crux of you. Without realizing it, you’ve begun to hold your breath. He begins to speak softly into your skin, lips moving against the flesh, “You’re really sensitive here. I like the noises you make.”

He’s reached the hem of your thong, kissing a purposeful kiss against the bone, “I want you to make more noises like that.”

Fuck…

He hooks two fingers in your thong, pulling it aside fully to examine your sex. Your thighs quiver at his cool breath hitting your wet heat. He looks at the two fingers that had exposed you, fascinated with the string of slick that eventually snaps when he pulls away. Then he thoughtfully puts them in his mouth, pulling them sensually from his lips with an audible pop.

You can’t help it, you snort at this, breaking a little bit of sexual tension when you do so. He smirks, curious at your laughter, “What?”

“You gonna analyze that, too, Detective Connor?” You tease, but it backfires when he says, “I could, but I would need a larger sample.”

That shuts you up, and he notices. He returns to between your thighs, only letting a beat pass before he kisses your wetness, using his tongue to open your folds for further examination. He’s not even touching your clit and he’s already eliciting such a reaction. As if he’s read your mind, he places a wet finger on your clit and it’s like electricity shoots through your body. You involuntarily try to squeeze his head, but the hand that is still digging into your thigh keeps you put.

Connor laps at you so fervently like he’s a man starved. You’ve never enjoyed cunnilingus that didn’t center on the clitoris, but there was something that turned you on about this that it serves as a form of foreplay, building you up in your psyche to stroke the fire of your libido. Then he rubs your clit again and you pinch your eyes shut, pressing the back of your head hard against the couch cushions. He continues, switching from touching the throbbing bud directly and circling it with his finger.

You can’t take it anymore. One of your hands retracts from the couch above your head and grasps his hair tight, pulling his face and tongue to your clit successfully. He adapts quickly, getting the idea and flicking the sensitive bundle of nerve-endings thoughtfully. You mewl, pressing his head further into you, as if the action will deepen your pleasure. He allows this, complicit with anything that helps him complete his mission.

A slender finger is pushed into your wetness… then another, thrusting and dragging soft digits against your ribbed insides. They search within you, pumping in and out as they do, until they find a spongy spot and rub persistent circles into it. You immediately moan, surprising yourself at your reaction; you’ve never had such a strong reaction to anything penetrating you before.

All the while, Connor is still tending to you with his tongue. He sucks on your clit and continues to press and rub that spot inside you. You’re panting at this point, moans bubbling up at a more consistent rate. Your fingers drag against his scalp, scrambling for purchase again — then you get it and don’t know what to do with the fistful of his hair. So you let go of him, your hand flopping back above your head with a thump.

You’re unraveling under his ministrations. Everything irrelevant seems to fade away as your impending climax approaches, pleasure tightening like a coil within you. You don’t realize how loud you’re being, how your head shifts from side to side erratically; you don’t fully comprehend that your core is tightening, your thighs are quivering, and your toes are curling in your heels. Then you feel a wetness as you come apart in a passionate explosion.

“C—Connor!!” You manage to moan, but it’s like the only word you know as you ride out your orgasm, beginning to chant, “Connor, Connor, Connor, Connor…!!”

Then you fall quiet, chest heaving as you come back to yourself. It takes you a few moments, but you’re pulled back to Earth by Connor’s voice and his palm pressing against your cheek.

“Are you alright?” He asks and you notice his face is really wet — almost glistening — hell, there’s even a drop threatening to fall from his chin. You gulp in air, trying to catch your breath, but you still sound winded as you ask, “Why are you so wet?”

He smiles sweetly at you, “It’s from when you ejaculated.”

“W-what?” You croak, looking down between your legs as if you can see down there sufficiently with Connor hovering over you.

“Female ejaculation, also known colloquially as ‘squirting’. Though there is some research that considers them two different forms of bodily phenomena.”

“Thank you, mister Google, but I know what squirting is.” You huff, looking away embarrassed.

“Mister Google…?” He chuckles softly, jeering, “Very creative, but my search engine is a specialized one created by CyberLife. I do not use a search engine open to the general public.”

“Oh I’m sorry for comparing you to a lowly peasant search engine, m’lord…”

“We’ve been through this before, I’m not a lord.” He snickers, dipping down to press gentle kisses on your neck. You shiver, eyes fluttering closed as you let out a long breath and relax.

“I’ve… never squirted before.” You admit shyly and he stops his tender barrage of kisses on you neck.

“Really?”

“Yeah… did I make a mess?” You ask and he pulls back to look between your legs, his LED spinning a thoughtful yellow. When he doesn’t answer quickly enough you groan, “Shit… Dawn’s going to be super pleased.”

“I am detecting sarcasm.” he looks back at your face, adding, “It’s not… that bad, it mostly got in my mouth and on my face.”

You bring your hands to cover your face: you want to scream. Great, that's super sexy cool of you. You want to shrink down to microscopic proportions and get stepped on, for someone to quickly end your miserable existence.

”I will get some paper towels…” Connor announces then he starts to move and pauses. The pause is long enough for you to curiously splay your fingers so you can peek through.

His face is contorted, the expression erotic and ashamed. You pull your hands away from your face and prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Connor, what’s wrong?”

“I have become rather erect, to an extent I didn’t realize…” He admits and your eyes automatically dart to his crotch, confirming his words as you take in the sizable bulge in his slacks. You swallow.

“I need to forcibly shut down the executable.”

“No!” You bleat and he freezes, staring down at you. But the tent in his pants doesn’t go down, so he listened to you.

“… but I need to go get paper towels. I do not want you to get any disciplinary marks against you because of me.” He gives you sweet puppy eyes and you groan, helpless to them.

“Fine,” you say, pushing yourself up and onto your knees before pressing a hand against his still damp dress shirt until he’s the one on his back against the couch cushions, “You can do that after.”

“After?” He parrots, confused even though your hands are already on his belt, fidgeting with the buckle. You successfully unbuckle him, pulling the leather strap free and moving to unbutton his slacks with a learned finesse. You do not offer him any verbal answers as you unzip him then pull his trousers down. He compiles, lifting his ass enough for them to fall in a bunch around his ankles. Then you look at his briefs.

The fabric is tented with his member, and, even though the color of his briefs is dark, you swear you can see a spot of moisture near where you presumed the head of his shaft to be. Does he have liquid; some sort of sexual lubricant? You were about to find out.

You pinch the waistband of his briefs and begin to pull it down. He moves his hand to grasp your wrist, murmuring, “You don’t have to do that…”

You swat his hand away and he relinquishes his hold on you, slinking his hand back. Annoyed, you hiss, “Hush. I do what I want, Connor.”

He nods silently and you finish pulling down his briefs, exposing his throbbing cock to the air. It was… just like a human penis, even twitching a little to the open air. You notice a bead of what you could only assume is synthetic precum at the tip. Fascinating.

Then you giggle, causing Connor to peer down at you suspiciously, his head lifting slightly off the couch cushions.

“W-what?” He almost whines at you, causing you to snort, slapping a hand to your mouth and shaking your head.

“Sorry,” your voice comes out muffled until you let go of your mouth, “Sorry, I just — it looks like the real McCoy. I was expecting, like, a purple sparkly dildo or something… not a dick with balls and apparently the ability to cum, too?”

“What?!” His eyebrows knit together, his voice holding offense before he eventually lets his head fall back on the cushions, murmuring, “That’s… ridiculous. Purple? Sparkly?”

“Aww, sweetheart, did I upset you?” You coo in a childish sing-song voice. He groans, mumbling, “Sorry to disappoint: my dick is designed to be realistic.”

You rise to meet his face, sprinkling a kiss here and there on his grumpy face.

“Poor…” you begin, kissing along his jaw.

“Baby…” you murmur along the sharp edge of his jaw, a hand gently grasping the length of him, fingers encircling his girth.

He lets out a surprised gasp of air and you begin to slowly explore his shaft with your hand, running it up to the tip just to rub your thumb over the sensitive tip and catch that precum you saw. You smear the viscous liquid as far as you can on your hands and his cock. Then you slowly pump him in with a slow, steady pace.

“Don’t worry…” you nip at his neck, enjoying when he whimpers a little, even if you’re unsure if it's from your hand working him or your teeth.

“I’ll make you feel all better…” you lick and suck and his neck with a fervor that, if he was a human, would produce hickeys. You don’t allow yourself to wonder long if he can get hickeys — you were just going to have to find out in the aftermath.

He becomes a shivering, breathy mess under you; there’s also the occasional whimper or moan, but mostly he’s pretty quiet. He’s holding on like a champ, but then you start to crack him and he says something that, even with your proximity to his mouth, you do not hear.

“Hmm?” You muse against his neck and you feel his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. Then he takes a shaky breath and supplies, “I-I cursed…”

You’ve never heard him curse before because he was a sweet and proper gentleman. This piqued your curiosity.

“Oh? Let’s hear it again, then, shall we?” You nibble at his skin, mapping out the next area for you to lick and suck. He moves his head aside enough to grant you better access to the pale swathe of his neck.

“I try not to curse… or use any inflammatory language in g-general.” He whispers, his voice breaking a little at the end. Then you pause your hunt to sigh, shaking your head in amusement.

“Connor… it’s not like I’m going to make you put a five in the swear jar. I want to hear you, especially if it’s a curse right now.”

“E-especially?” He breathes and you hum an affirmative, biting down on his neck like you’re a goddamn vampire and all you need in life is his sweet blue blood. He grunts, his cock twitching in your hand.

“Shit…” He says with his perfect voice; it’s soft and breathy. You let his neck go, allowing yourself to examine your work and you halt your hand's repetitive journey up and down his member. There’s several blooming hickeys the color of midnight blue and the skin where you bit down is indented with a clear imprint of your teeth; the skin is puffed up there, like it was swollen, and also beginning to bloom a soft blue.

Now it was your turn to curse, “Fuck…”

Connor takes a moment to collect himself from the aftermath of the bite and the handjob he’s been enjoying so far, but he manages to say, “What’s wrong?”

“I think I damaged you.” You say fast, horror in your voice. He shakes his head, unworried as he replies calmly, “I highly doubt it.”

“I left a mark with my teeth! And your skin is all fucked up and bruised on your neck!” You whine and he chuckles dreamily at that. You groan, pouring down at him, “Connor, this is serious!”

“I’m fine, my skin is made of a self-healing material with elasticity similar, if not superior, to human skin. Any bruises you inflict will also go away in time.”

“Huh…” Worry drains from your features as you feel a mischievous smile creeping onto your lips. Connor sees this and quirks an eyebrow.

“People will notice the hickeys, they’re high on your neck; you may get teased.” You explain quickly and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh no, I’m showing obvious signs of sexual attention! Whatever will I do?” He says, full of sass. You snort and he smiles up at you like he’s accomplished something.

“Are you saying more hickeys are allowed, sweetheart?”

“I’m just saying: if I’m already marked with the scarlet letter of being a brazen harlot, what’s one or two more hickeys?” God, he’s so goddamn sassy right now for a man who has his dick in your hand. You give him an affectionate squeeze and he hisses in pleasure through his teeth.

“More like the cobalt letter…” You resume stroking him, a smug look on your face, adding, “You like it, don’t you? Me marking you up?”

Connor whimpers softly, then he recovers just enough to smirk up at you, “Oh so now you’re the detective? What gave me away?”

You snort, “I don’t need to be a detective to determine you’re enjoying yourself, you make it easy. You’re very expressive, it’s cute.” His smirk falters as you pick up the pace, every once in a while rubbing at the head of his cock with your thumb. He begins panting, chest rising and falling; you swear he’s even heating up to the touch. That’s when his LED goes red and a tremor ripples down his body. You watch him unfurl under you with awe: his fingers dig into the velvet of this couch, his chest keeps expanding and falling, he even begins to whimper your name, which has you tempering your own arousal.

“What is it?” You coo, and he looks at you with those pretty brown eyes, desperate.

“I’m… close…” he manages to grunt out and you nod. Your plan of marking him up more is now fully out the window — you’re too fascinated with watching his face as he nears the finish line. Connor snaps his eyes shut and you click your tongue, tutting, “No, sweetheart, don’t close your eyes. Look at me, okay?”

Obediently his eyes open and you impulsively say, “Good boy.”

That’s when it hits him like a fucking truck.

Connor moans low, the sound fracturing at the tail-end as he looks up at you, eyes glazing over in pleasure. His cock pulses, presumably making more of a mess on this godforsaken couch, but you didn’t care. You were glued to how erotic his expressions were and the blue of his cheeks. He fights to keep his eyes open just for you, lashes fluttering as he involuntarily closes them then forces them back open. You don’t stop stroking him until you feel his member start to soften, spent for the meantime. Then, slowly, his body starts to stop its spasming, his muscles relaxing into putty as he tries to catch his breath, LED eventually turning blue. You let go of him and survey the damage.

There are ropes of clear cum on the couch, some sort of lubricant Connor produces internally or… does he have to refill it? Questions for later, perhaps. You thank God that, unlike human ejaculate, it looks like you can scrub it out of the stupid velvet couch without much fuss.

“Please…” His voice draws your attention, “Please, can I kiss you?”

Wordlessly you bring your face down to his and he shakily caresses each side of your face, smashing your lips together sloppily. The kiss is as passionate as it is sweet — it’s over quickly though, for you have to pull back for air, not expecting the intensity of the kiss.

“Thank you…” Connor whispers your name and you smile endearingly at him.

“Anytime…” you hover over him, then slowly fall back on your heels. He shakily lifts himself with his elbows and also sits up, looking like he’s in some sort of daze. You don’t fully understand the extent of this and unceremoniously say, “Now you can go get paper towels, Connor.”

He chuckles gently, nodding, “I will once my systems finish stabilizing.”

“Oh shit, sorry. No rush…” you look at him apologetically. He shakes his head slowly, dreamily saying, “Don’t be sorry, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

He begins to attempt to adjust his tie but realizes it was undone in the events prior, so instead he pulls on his lapels one by one, as if he’s trying to straighten them with stiff force. The android slowly dresses himself. You do the same, but all you have to do is make sure your pussy is covered by your thong. Then you lean back on the couch, letting out a contented sigh. Connor is straightening out his slacks with the palms of his hands when you look back at him, then grabbing his discarded belt from the floor, looping it back through his pants and then buckling himself back up.

He doesn’t bother tying his tie again. The android retrieves his dress shoes and puts them on, one by one. Then he stands, smiling at you like the true goofball he is.

“I will now retrieve some paper towels.” Connor announces and you giggle, nodding — this makes him smile more before he leaves the VIP area in search of paper towels. You close your eyes and let yourself melt into the couch cushions, focusing on the vibrations of the music bumping through the club.

He’s probably going to leave now. Androids have to charge, right? He has work in the morning — he can’t stay here all night. Sadness stirs in your gut and you let out a measured breath to try to dump water on the flame of emotions that have suddenly cropped up. You cannot get upset when he leaves, when he inevitably loses interest in you.

Your lower lip quivers and you suck it into your mouth, biting down. You pull your legs to your chest, hugging them close and placing your head on your knees. You needed to get over yourself before Connor came back…

“Hey…” speak of the devil and he will appear, “What’s wrong? You’re showing signs of distress.”

You can hear the dumb paper towels ripple starchily in his hands and something lazily slosh a little before you open your wet eyes. Connor is holding a fistful of paper towels and some sort of cleaning solution in a spray bottle. He sits next to you, hooking an arm around you, pulling you to his side. You press your head into him, grateful for the affection.

“Why do you have a spray bottle?” Your voice comes out in a wet croak. He sets aside his cleaning supplies and presses a kiss into your hair, “No. I asked a question first: ‘what's wrong?’”

You snort, “What are you, six?”

“I’m two, actually,” he answers in a gentle voice, “Two years, one month, and twenty-seven days exactly.”

You’re not sure how you feel about that, and mask it with comedy, “Damn, I’m robbing the cradle…”

He laughs and you find yourself smiling. But after a minute or two the sadness creeps back up like climbing ivy; it travels up you, choking the happiness out of you.

“Connor?” You warble, tears threatening to fall.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you have to… leave? You have work in the morning, right?” Tears start to stream down your face and you sniffle. You feel pathetic.

“Is that why you’re upset?” His voice is so soft, no edges. You nod rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms, which turns to you hiding your face in your hands.

“It is true I must report to the precinct tomorrow. That said, I do not understand why I would want or need to leave so soon.”

You breathe a stuttering sigh of relief, the feeling running through your body like a pleasant warmth. You nod, mostly to yourself, and slowly let go of your legs, letting them fall and snuggling into Connor’s side properly.

“I can stay for a little while longer, but I will have to eventually go home, this is true… and for that I am sorry.” He apologizes into your hair, pressing his nose into your scalp and breathing in.

“N-no, it’s fine,” you speak up, sniffling, “I’m just being a big baby…”

“I’m the one that’s two years old.” He japes and you snort.

“Shut up, Connor…” You say fondly, and he opens his mouth, as if to retort, but keeps his mouth firmly shut. The curiosity eventually causes you to snap and you bite.

“What?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can continue to shut up.” He says so seriously you’re momentarily concerned you offended him… but then he smiles, the sound evident in his voice, “My lips are sealed.”

“Whatever, we should probably clean this stupid couch now.” You admit and he nods, grabbing the spray bottle and paper towels. The two of you part and stand, examining the stains in the couch. It doesn’t take long for Connor to apply a few shots of cleaner and begin scrubbing the couch. Silently, you hover over his shoulder like some sort of supervisor as he cleans. Thankfully, this doesn’t seem to bother him, and he continues until the couch is properly sanitized and clean, just a little damp in the affected spots.

“I have finished cleaning the couch.” He turns to you, smiling. You smile back at him, “Thanks, Connor.”

He sets the soiled paper towels and spray bottle down to properly dispose and put up later. Then he pulls you into a hug.

“What do you want to do?” He asks and you begin to wonder the same question.

“Just… snuggle and talk?” You offer and he nods. He pulls you close and coaxes you to sit with him. He gathers you in his arms, sitting you on his lap. You both sit in proverbial silence until Connor breaks the seal.

“What do you want to talk about?”

[tongueofcat]

Magic Lessons

Chapter Four: Drenched

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor RK800/F!Human Reader

Tags: Innocent Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Smut, Father-Son Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)

Word Count: 4,572

Masterlist | Link to Ao3

Notes: This is a longer chapter for me, and I ended it on what I consider a cliffhanger. Oops! Also, the explicit rating comes to play in this chapter.

The rest of your day had been boring: grocery shopping, doom scrolling through various forms of social media, and dinner. It’s nice to take a break from your studies, but now you’ve found a new distraction: six foot, brown hair, and brown eyes with a smile that can liquify your insides to a gelatinous goo. Honestly, if you didn’t know better, you’d think your body was trying to liquify itself as his deep eyes flashed in your memory: focused and precise; intimately interested.

But what kind of ‘interested’ was Connor? That must be your own egg to crack.

Rain was pelting on your window, the sound soothing and pleasant as you spent the rest of your day before work daydreaming about Connor on and off. Then your phone vibrated near you on the bed as you were idly browsing a streaming service, looking for something to watch. Your eyes lazily focus on the screen of your cellphone before realizing the preview bubble of the text message is addressed from Connor.

You’ve never opened your phone so fast.

Connor: Hello, how is your day going?

Your thumbs all but stab your phone screen as you hastily type out your response.

You: Good!! I’m just wasting time before work. Looking for something to watch and turn my brain off for a while, you know?

There’s a pause, you hungrily watch your phone for a response, even though you just sent your reply. You must’ve waited for a whole minute, eyes glued on the lit screen of your cell before you see the ‘…’ bubble pop up, notifying you that Connor is building a response. Then it comes.

Connor: Please don’t turn off your brain.

You blink, your mind taking a moment to catch him taking your turn of phrase literally. Maybe? It’s unclear without the nuance of audio cues, body language or facial expressions.

Connor: I like your brain.

Connor: A lot.

You giggle, butterflies bumping around in your belly as you formulate your response.

You: Is that all you like, detective?

You: Just my brain?

The little ‘…’ bubble pops up, animating small pulsing periods, before retreating, then coming back.

Connor: No.

Your stomach is playing hopscotch now, you were sure of it. Heat pools low in your stomach and you feel your face get hot. No, you’re supposed to be getting back at him, not letting yourself pant excitedly like a dog at his heels. You had to derail this before it got out of control and you were begging on your knees, heart eyes and all…

You: Shouldn’t you be busy, mister detective? You know, solving crimes and making criminals squirm like worms. Stuff like that.

The reply was almost instant.

Connor: I can multitask, madam.

A smirk plays on your lips as you reply.

You: What about your internal clock earlier today? Ignoring your alarm for little ol’ me.

You watched the little bubble pop up fast.

Connor: I won’t deny you’re distracting. Also, I wasn’t ignoring it, I didn’t notice it. That is a key difference.

You feel like a schoolgirl giggling and kicking her feet. You’re positively obsessing over texting this stupid boy, unashamedly caught in his web. Another text comes through when you don’t respond within a mere handful of seconds.

Connor: I do not ignore things.

Connor: Ignoring things is not in my programming. I’m highly advanced, you know.

Affectionately you roll your eyes, typing.

You: Oh? What are your features, mister highly advanced.

You’re giggling like an idiot when your phone flashes with a green phone icon notifying an incoming call, the name flashing atop clearly reading ‘Connor’. You gulp, frozen for a moment in time before anxiously accepting it, pressing your cell to your ear.

“C-Connor?” Your voice comes out in an undignified croak. You hear him laugh in your ear and fight hard not to swoon, to get lost in his stupid spell.

“Did I frighten you in some way? You sound scared. Or, perhaps, anxious.” His voice is so pretty, damn it.

“D, all of the above…” you breathe, calming yourself by a large fraction. He laughs again and you can hear a muffled voice in the background.

“Talking to yourself now, kid? That’s new.” You recognize the voice as Lieutenant Hank. You snort.

“No, I’m just multitasking.” Connor replies to his partner sweetly and you hear a groan.

“I’m putting in my earbuds if you’re gonna yap to yourself like that.”

“Good idea, Lieutenant.” you can hear the smile in his voice.

You find courage sparking in your heart, enough to ask Connor a question.

“Why did you call, Connor?”

“I wanted to hear your voice.” He responds back fast, catching you off guard. Your brain falls on its ass and you scramble to reply.

“Don’t you have like… super memory that can replay things? Can’t you just remember how I sound — replay it over in your head?” The words come out in sputters, flustered and meek. He makes a soft, contented hum in agreement.

“It’s not the same.”

“Lord, Connor…” you’re holding your stomach now, trying to physically stop the jumps and bumps inside your gut.

“I am not a lord.” He quips, voice all smiles.

“I am refusing to believe you don’t know what I mean…”

More laughter and he coos, “You got me. ‘Twas just a jest, m’lady.”

“You are so cheesy.” You snort, leaning back into your mattress and staring blankly at the ceiling. If you were a cartoon you probably would have dumb little heart eyes right now.

“I don’t know about that…” you hear what you presume is his desk chair squeak as he moves, probably swiveling.

“Nah, you’re a dork. Admit it.” You giggle, closing your eyes and just listening to him. All ears for this stupidly attractive android.

“I will not confirm that for you. I do not believe I am socially awkward — the definition of dork. I have a very sophisticated social relations program that has only been expanded on since my deviancy.”

You snort again, “English, Connor.”

“I am speaking English. Plainly, in fact,” he pauses for a few beats, and the smile is again evident in his voice, “Would you like me to put it in layman’s terms for you?”

Cheeky ass. You chew on the inside of your cheek before relinquishing the flesh and responding.

“Knock yourself out.”

More laughter, “I don’t think that would be enjoyable. My self-preservation protocol won’t allow it, either. I checked.”

“You checked, huh?” You coo sweetly back into the phone, managing to sound breathy and soft, “Just for me?”

There’s a what you would call a loud pause. Connor doesn’t respond long enough that you even check to make sure the call is still connected. It is.

He clears his throat suddenly, voice soft, sincere, “J-just for you… yeah.”

“Good boy.” You find yourself saying. Then you smack your head with the heel of your palm — stupid! Cringe fills your gut and you squirm anxiously in your bed.

Another pause. You’re about to fish out a pregnancy test for how long this one takes because you’re pretty sure it’s a pregnant pause. You've almost passed away from embarrassment when he pipes up.

“I… am confused why I liked that so much. Why did you say that?”

You can’t say you’re stunned at his words, but you’re sure feeling something. You hastily make up an excuse.

“Because you remind me of a puppy! You have that kind of face, y’know?” You’re laughing albeit nervously as you let him process that.

“I’m not sure how I feel about that…” the android confesses and you laugh awkwardly, feeling a tad guilty. You hadn’t told him a complete lie, really…

“I meant it as a compliment! Who doesn’t like dogs?”

“Some people, but I am not one of them.” You visibly relax when you hear that smile in his voice again. Phew, thank god for small miracles. You did not want to explain the intricacies of the sexual connotations of the phrase ‘good boy’ to Connor. At least, not yet.

But one thing is for sure: Connor has a thing for praise. Might even have a praise kink if one of his many features included the ability to derive sexual pleasure, let alone have sex. You briefly wonder if he has the equipment to do the deed installed.

You jump when you hear your name soft through your phone’s speaker.

“Y-yeah?” You’re definitely blushing.

“I’m about to clock out… thanks for talking with me.” His voice is so warm, so thankful and sweet. You melt a little.

“Thank you for talking to me, too, Connor.” You murmur back. You hear him make that soft hum of contentment again, except this time he sounds a little dopey doing it.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He promises and you find yourself turning in your bed, smiling.

“See you tonight, detective.”

“Bye…” he says and you’re pretty sure you’re akin to melted chocolate right now.

“Bye, Connor…”

He doesn’t hang up, you both stay on the line and then you giggle.

“What?” He sounds almost reverent, but in a strange dreamy way. Curious and kind.

“Connor, you’re supposed to hang up.”

“Right. I will do that now. Bye…” he says your name and the call ends. You let your phone drop beside your head and let out a long sigh, coming down to Earth from what you can only define as heaven. Where the angel boy lived, perfectly pristine.

You needed to get ready… but you found your vision unfocusing; your eyes glazing over with heated thoughts invading your dumb, dumb mind. Connor’s face, his voice, even his hands flooded ever synapse — he spread like a virus in your mind and body. He turned your mind into mush and raised your body temperature.

You didn’t normally do this, usually you had more self control… but as you imagined Connor’s soft synthetic fingers tracing down your spine you couldn’t ignore the agonizing heat pooling in your lower belly. His voice caused your body to catch fire, burning hot at your core; you replayed your conversations over and over in your mind — your brain adapting, cutting and mixing his voice to say new things, things you wanted to desperately hear from him. Absolutely naughty, impure things.

Your hand slinked down your stomach and under the waistband of your panties until you found your wet core. You gasp, eyes snapping down to your hand as it retracts slowly for you to examine it. You’re absolutely fucking soaked — from tame flirting by a man you honestly don’t know enough about to feel this strongly about so fast.

But… you didn’t find it in you to care. Connor is so sweet, kind, and honestly more than worthy of your time. Your hand finds its place again, at your most sensitive epicenter. Another hand reaches up and cups one of your breasts, pinching your already taut nipple. Hot pants escaped your mouth, breathy and needing as you started to circle your clit before swiping at it. With a squeak of stimulation you snap your eyes shut, brows furrowing in focus as you worked yourself, thinking of Connor speaking sweet words in your ear and pretending your touch was his. It didn’t take long for you to unravel, moaning as your thighs quivered and toes curled. You road out your orgasm, everything muddy and distorted with pleasure as you opened your eyes and scanned your room.

“Fuck…” you breathed, your voice still heavy with lust. Slowly, you came back to yourself, the room refocusing. With a small, almost guilty sigh, you sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You’ve never masturbated to a real life person before. You wondered about the moral ethics of doing so, feeling your stomach sinking lower and lower with every passing anxious thought. You had been so impulsive, masturbating to Connor like that. Did that count as objectifying him? Reducing him to just a means of pleasure for yourself… no, he was more than that to you.

You think.

No, you’re pretty sure.

Connor was… special to you, he didn’t just envoke sexual feelings from you. You wanted to know more about him, to grow to care for him.

So perhaps you will do just that.

…

The rain hadn’t stopped by the time you got to work. You had to pop the hood of your hoodie on and hug yourself as you braced the cool autumnal breeze and braved the downpour of rain to get inside the club. Once inside you made a beeline for the women’s dressing room to peel the wet fabric of your hoodie off.

“Hey!” A bubbly voice called from behind you, almost causing you to jump out of your skin mid-strip. Your head was caught in the hoodie temporarily, but then you finished, throwing it off and onto your section to the long counter that made up the vanity area. You saw your verbal attacker in the mirror behind you, your fellow dancer and coworker, an android named Hannah, but she went by Pearl here. Perfect ginger hair, green eyes, and pale, freckled skin. She had on her work clothes: a lacy black teddy with her nipples covered by heart-shaped pasties. You finally smiled at her, “Hey to you too, Pearl.”

Her LED was a soft blue as she moved over to sit on the counter, her legs dangling from it as she looked at you with interest, “I didn’t know if you would be at work today after last night.”

You squeezed the excess moisture from the rain that managed to invade your hair, annoyed because you had thought it was made up cutely before you left home. Then you glanced back up at the mirror, looking at Pearl.

“Nah, I’m okay. Honestly? I’ve had worse.” You unceremoniously point to your bruised throat, now rid of the makeup you’d painted to hide it earlier; it had come off with make up remover and soap in the shower. You had been thankful it wasn’t as sensitive as last night or this morning.

Pearl gasped at the bruises that kissed your skin, “Ow!”

“Yeah, ow is right.” You plop yourself down on your stool and place your purse on the counter, digging for your makeup bag in it.

“Also, hold up? You’ve had worse physical abuse before? Talk about yikes — I hope that was long ago!!” Her lips formed a pout of concern as she looked down at you, legs idly kicking as she studied you. Your eyes meet hers in a brief glance and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, long ago.” You do not elaborate and pull out your bag full of cosmetics. More people file into the dressing room, causing a momentary respite from Pearl’s all-seeing eyes. A few other women comment on how you’re at work and you give similar responses out like candy on Halloween.

You were dressed in your attire for the night: a blue babydoll gown with lacy cups, much like Hannah’s, including nude colored pasties as well as a matching thong and short white heels. It was lingerie night, apparently. Other girls were clad in similar outfits — the dressing room turned into a sea of multicolored lacy tits and ass. Makeup application was a fast process, you spent more time covering up the bruises on your neck than you did your face — dreamy swaths of nude colors and shimmery angelic highlighter. Your lips were the color of a bunny’s tongue, perfectly soft pink. Satisfied with your appearance, you locked up your purse and clothing in your locker and made your way out into the fray.

It was still early, the music actually just turning on as you walked around, bored. There weren’t any patrons yet, and you found yourself watching the door so hard you don’t even realize your name is being called.

“Girl, oh my god, hey there — Earth to Magic!” An effeminate voice croons over your shoulder, fingers slinking around you to snap in your face. You jump like a cat then whip around and frown at him.

“Sunset, damn it! Don’t sneak up on me!”

The dark complected man frowned back, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a huff; a curl of his beautiful black hair bouncing onto his forehead with the motion, “I’ll have you know I did not sneak up on you this time — I was calling you, Magic! I called you at least a gazillion and one times. Your head is off in lala land, honey.”

Your eyes lurk back to the entrance, movement catching your attention. Not Connor. You relinquish your focus back to Sunset, who most definitely saw that. He grinned like the Cheshire Cat, “Ooo, expecting someone?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as he relaxed his, “No! Well, maybe! Shit…”

He squealed in what you can only assume is glee, placing his hands on your shoulders and shaking you excitedly.

“Spill the beans, the tea, all the fucking groceries, honey!!”

You stabilize yourself by placing your hands on his chest, stopping his nonsensical shaking. Sunset’s dark, almost black eyes gleamed like two shiny onyx marbles at you — full of interest. You removed your hands from him and plucked his hands from your shoulders, one by one.

“Fine, but you cannot bother him…” you glance back at the entrance, “If he comes…”

“Girl, we just opened. Don’t get your panties in a wad because he wasn’t waiting at the door like a fucking dog.”

You sighed, “You have a point.”

Sunset nodded solemnly, hands on his hips, nodding, “I always do!”

You’re delusional to think you’ve escaped Sunset’s glittery clutches, as he jumps you with another question.

“Is he cute? What’s he look like? Is he bi? Maybe I can tease him, too!”

Thoughts flutter across your mind: Connor’s visage, his laughter, then a question that you honestly didn’t know. What is Connor’s sexuality… was he even capable of true sexual behavior? You assumed his original programming didn’t include sex and the nuances of sexuality… could he, did he download the information like a file off the internet. Click here for bisexuality! No, it has to be more complicated than that.

Then jealousy bubbles up as Sunset jabs you about teasing him. That’s when you realized something.

You didn’t want to share the detective.

You wanted him all for yourself.

“He’s a brunette… tall, brown eyes. White, I guess…” you begin, offering Sunset physical attributes of Connor. He raises a curious eyebrow.

“You guess? Do you think he’s mixed and white passing?”

You sigh, shaking your head, “No he looks white. But, he’s… well, he’s an android.”

Sunset blinks, taking in that information. He taps his lips with his pointer finger, “Hmm…”

“Hmm?” You feel defensive under Sunset’s gaze.

“Can he… reciprocate properly?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice comes out as a growl. Sunset looks sheepish, maybe even sorry.

“It’s just… the whole revolution and deviancy was just twoish years ago, right? Have they had enough time to develop enough of their psyche to have complicated relations - sexual or otherwise? I know androids can fuck, but can they feel — I don’t know — passion?”

You dropped your guard, mulling that over, turning over the information in your mind like a 3D object — you really bit down and chewed on it. Sunset brought up a good point: was it even ethical to play these games with Connor? Is that why you felt guilty after masturbating to him earlier? No, surely…

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by your name being called by your manager, “Magic! Come here for a sec, would you?”

“Yeah, coming!” You call over your shoulder, about to leave before you feel Sunset’s hand on your arm. Your eyes meet his, concern swimming in them.

“I don’t mean to rain on your parade, girlie-pop. Just… be careful, ok?”

You can only manage a tight, but sincere, smile. You nod and he sets you free to go to your manager.

Your manager, Dawn, was an older butch woman, heavy set and intimidating to those who didn’t know her. Deep down, she was a softie and absolutely spoiled her workers, whom she called her babies. Blonde hair was cropped short, close to her head and her eyes were a brilliant shimmering gray, akin to a smooth, wet stone you could pluck from a river. Dawn had a smart tablet in her hand, swiping down what you can only assume is a list, maybe opening inventory. She sees you approach and gives you a warm smile.

“Hey baby girl, how are you feeling after last night? Sure you’re up to riding in this god-forsaken rodeo?” Her voice is humorous, light, but there’s for sure some concern in there the comedy is masking. You nod, smiling.

“Yeah, I’m feeling good tonight. Don’t worry about me, Dawn.”

Your manager shakes her head, “That’s my job, baby. Now, if you’re sure you’re up for it, I have you scheduled as floor candy. Just have fun, no dancing tonight unless they shove a huge wad of cash in your face or something.”

You snort, internally cursing.

“I’ll set a five hundred minimum fee for tonight, then. For the private Magic experience.”

“Baby, raise it to a thousand at least, you got bills to pay… now get outta here and have fun!”

You giggle and take your leave.

Time passes and you find yourself hovering around the entrance, basically greeting patrons. You pray you’re not pulled away before Connor gets here. If… Connor gets here. You glance at the clock on the wall, the digital numbers conveying the time in bright white light: 10:12 pm. You nervously rolled your lip with your teeth. You wished you could have your cell out here, but where would you keep it? In your fucking thong strap? You sigh, turning to the rest of the floor when you hear your name, causing you to whip your head towards the sound so fast you might have whiplash.

Connor is there at the door, absolutely drenched and dripping wet from rain. You stare at him, daring yourself to pinch yourself. But you don’t have time as he approaches you with long, fast strides, shrugging off his sopping wet blazer, exposing his equally wet dress shirt that clung deliciously to his pale synthetic skin; you could even see the color through the fabric, you could see his nipples poking through.

“Hey…” He said, breathless and right in front of you. You force your eyes up, to his face, like the proper lady you are. You want to be cute, maybe even sexy, but all that comes out of your mouth is a mirrored, “Hey…”

The android smiled endearingly at you, his eyes crinkling and a dimple forming in his cheek. From this close you noticed subtle freckling in his skin… you marvel at him and he finally looks you over.

“What took you so long?” Your voice sounds like a whine. Your question is petulant; he has a life, just like you. He wasn’t attending to you hand and foot. Still, his eyes found yours again, his face apologetic and puppy-like. He was like a long lost puppy, drenched to the bone.

“Sorry, it was Sumo’s birthday. I should have mentioned that.” He chuckles softly, getting distracted by something again as he scans you over. Its dark in the corner you were hiding in by the entrance, but you’re almost certain he’s blushing that beautiful blue blood - thirium, it’s apparently called. The clubs sold drinks of it at the bar, but android patrons were not common, usually only the android workers ordered that stuff.

“Sumo?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap back to yours, having been traveling elsewhere. He nods, laughing, “Yeah, Lieutenant Hank’s dog. It was his birthday. I got him a doggy birthday cake… he really liked it.”

“That’s so cute, Connor. Are you made of marshmallows and rainbows, too?” You giggle, eyes twinkling.

“No… I’m unfortunately inedible.”

“Have you tested that out?” You croon almost immediately back at him and, yep, he’s for sure blushing — even harder now,

“I…” he looks down at you, something deep burning in his eyes. An unmistakable wanting, a need. Without a word, you take his hand, pulling him into a VIP room. He follows you wordlessly, his shoes squelching wetly behind you with each step. You lead him to the center of the couch cushions, pushing him with a gentle hand on his chest to sit. He compiles obediently, looking at you like you’re made of something precious. Gold, perhaps? Diamonds? He’s enraptured, pupils blown out and curious, seeking more of the stimulation only you can provide.

You reach out to him, your palm cupping his cheek, fingers brushing his face, one brushing the edge of his LED, which is spinning a fervent yellow. Your thumb rubs soothing circles in the flesh of his cheek.

“Can I…” his voice is so sweet, almost saccharine in your ears; he balls his fists, squeezing down before releasing them — he does this a few times as he musters up the courage to finish his sentence.

“Can I… touch you?” Connor asks. He sounds so innocent, so sweet. Your breath catches in your throat and he quickly adds, his voice turning soft, whispering, “Is that allowed? I don’t want to break a rule…”

Your hand slowly retreats from his cheek, leaving him with a silent plea in his eyes. That is, until you sit down on his sideways, turning to him, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking down into those deep, rich brown eyes. In the light of the VIP room, red, they gleaned a color akin to maroon. You carefully straddle him before sitting back down.

His face is so blue, even his ears, again, are not just dusted but burning with it. His breaths are shallow, measured, as slow. Each breath coming out in cool puffs that tickle your skin.

“You…” he gulps, his chest expanding visibly in front of you, “You haven’t answered my question…”

Now was the moment of choice: what were you going to do? Technically you weren’t supposed to let patrons touch you — no getting handsy and all that. But, you two were in a private room… and he was practically begging you. Then a thought occurred to you: was Connor a virgin? Did him being a virgin complicate things? You didn’t think so, he’s obviously been enthusiastically consenting to everything so far. You watch him in wonder as he gazes back up at you, sitting on the edge of the metaphorical ocean cliffside, waiting for the okay to take to the water.

Fuck it.

“Yes, Connor, you can touch me.”

You thought he would jump at the opportunity like a fish to water, swimming fast through the currents, but as he raised his quivering hands, he looked to you, uncertain but also drowning in what had to be lust.

“Where… do I start?” the synthetic angel speaks, his voice gilded and perfect in every way; his voice held a clear passion that caused you to melt a little inside. Blush dusted your cheeks as you let out a long breath to cool down. Then you asked with the softest, feather-light voice you could muster.

“What do you want to do?”

[tongueofcat]

Magic Lessons

Chapter Three: Lunch Date - Part Two

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor RK800/F!Human Reader

Tags: Innocent Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Smut, Father-Son Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)

Word Count: 1,946

Masterlist | Link to Ao3

Notes: I know he’s a flirt, but I promise you when I say the tag ‘Innocent Connor’ still applies!!

An awkward quiet falls over the two of you. Or, at least, it feels that way for you. When you manage to glance up at him from your cake he’s watching you, a small, soft smile on his face; his eyes crinkle and the depth of the brown in his eyes are so rich. You swear you see his pupils retract, looking directly into your eyes before slowly focusing in, getting larger — more interested. You almost choke on your cake.

You cough, pounding your fist to your chest two times before you manage to swallow down the bite properly. When you look back at Connor looks anxious, worried even. He has lent forward, hands splayed on the wood of the table to brace himself in the impulsivity of his moments. His LED was spinning bright red, but once you quiet down it goes back to yellow, then blue.

“Connor?” You rasp, risking a sip of your still steaming cappuccino to help wet your throat — thankfully, its not too hot. You watch the detective slowly descend back into his side of the booth, blowing a soft exhale through his lips.

”Sorry. I… believe I may have overreacted. My apologies.” He anxiously straightens his tie before, his face bashful. You blink and then sputter, “No, I understand! It’s scary when you think someone choking, right?”

“I have been previously programmed with standard first aid, CPR, and the heimlich maneuver. I should have been able to determine the probability of you actually choking and devised a plan to assist if you were… instead, I…” Connor tore his eyes away from you, shame running down his face as if he was drenched in it.

“What? No, Connor, keep talking…” you say softly, your words gentle and empathetic before adding, “If you’re comfortable.”

His eyes meet yours again and he sighs, “Instead I panicked. I anxiously lunged forward to do what, exactly? I am not sure, but it wasn’t the most logical method of action.”

You frowned; you didn’t like that he was beating himself up over such a small instance, yet at all.

“That’s being human.” The words spill from your lips before you can really comprehend them. When you do, you flinch, wondering if that’s offensive to say to an android.

That’s when he looks at you, his eyes focusing onto yours as if he’s digging for something, something instead in the color of your eyes. Like he’s peering into your soul. Connor nods, sharply, exhaling and leaning back into the booth. His head bumps lightly on the wood behind him, serving as a barrier between the booths, as he looks up to the ceiling.

You study him for a while, letting silence blanket the two of you, as you nervously fiddle with your fork. You allow yourself two, three, then four sips of your cappuccino before coming up with a way to possibly distract Connor.

“You know…” you drawl out, cup perched at your lips as you look lazily into the brown liquid that reminded you of Connor’s eyes, “They sure made you pretty.”

He doesn’t react right away, but you can see his LED spinning a thoughtful yellow when you flick your eyes up to his face, then you will them back down to your drink.

“… you find me attractive?” He asks, but it’s soft, genuinely curious. You frown — surely someone has complimented this angelic being of a man before on his looks.

“Yes, Connor.” You answer, short and sweet. You let him chew on that information, his LED spinning again as his shoulders loosen, face dipping down to view you properly again.

“I did a search on human attraction. I counted many, up to fourteen types according to some sources. Though, there are nine listed in the automated search summary.”

You found yourself smiling sweetly at him, “Ok, I’ll bite: what’s on your mind, Connor?”

He looks so thoughtful, his LED glowing yellow; his brown eyes squint and he leans in, elbows on the table, hands laying flat against the wood. The android is studying you, looking for a tell of some kind, an answer to his unspoken question.

“I am wondering what kind of attraction your attraction for me falls under.” He explains, cocking his head like a curious puppy; his jaw stiffens, setting with determination. He’s being so serious about this, so you guess you’ll play along for him.

“What are the options?”

“Do you want all fourteen?” He asks.

You shake your head, “Give me the nine from your summary.”

He nods, sitting back proper, his hands sliding off the table, eyes still on you.

“Physical, emotional, sexual, romantic, aesthetic, sensual, intellectual, platonic, and protective.”

Your brow quirks, “What’s the difference between physical and sexual?”

“The summary says physical is hallmarked by a want to be physically near someone, whereas sexual is defined by a strong sexual desire to someone.” His voice is smooth, soft as he explains it to you.

You bite your lower lip thoughtfully, catching how his eyes flutter to your lips; you muse thoughtfully, “Hmm…”

Then you smirk at him, eyelids lazily falling just a smidge to produce a sultry look. Connor blinks himself out of the reverie of your lips, his eyes gazing into yours.

“Guess you’ll just have to figure it out on your own, detective…”

His eyes widened with barely disguised surprise, then he relaxed, giving you an interested smile with teeth — like he’s a wolf baring his fangs for you. A hunter.

“Are you challenging me?” He breathes your name, and there’s no more innocent thoughts left in your brain. You’re temporarily short-circuited, despite being the one made of flesh and bone. Like a dog with a scent he digs further, his foot brushing against your ankle, dragging it slowly down the bump of the bone. God, he’s playing footsie now? Who taught the android footsie? At least the physical contact is enough to bring you back down to Earth. You smile sweetly at him, voice silken and calm.

“Are you going to interrogate me, detective?”

Oh, he liked that… you can tell when his face blooms blue again. But it’s only temporary, as the color fades and he returns a smile of his own, but his isn’t as kind as yours. It’s as if the devil himself is playing on his boyishly charming face. His angelic features twist to become devilishly handsome.

You can feel your cheeks burn for him, blood pooling just the skin in response to just his facial expressions.

He says your name, the sound sculpted by angels themselves, before asking, “Is that what you want me to do?”

“I…” you manage to say before your voice dies on your lips. He smirks, giving you a moment, but mostly so he can examine your state of being — your eyes are almost glazed over with thoughts you don’t want to tell the general public about this particular android sitting across from you.

“You?” He coos, trying to coax more out of you.

You finally break his spell and shake your head over-enthusiastically, “N-no!”

“No?” He’s mocking you now. He’s enjoying himself. Where was that dork from the precinct — where has he gone? You huff, annoyed at him as you stab decisively at your slice of cake, managing to spear the strawberry on top.

“Have I offended you in some way?” He grins cheekily at you. A huff escapes your lips as you pop the strawberry into your mouth and chew. You were going to get back at him… you just had to. Somehow.

He watches you eat the rest of your cake and sip on your now lukewarm cappuccino, his perfect face content to be silent and examine you. You’re used to attention, but his was intense, making your resolve to be quiet snap like a twig under a boot.

“Take a picture, Connor,” You gaze up at him, face neutral, maybe a little smug, “It’ll last longer.”

“Okay.” He chirps and your eyes go as big as saucers.

“W-Wait, Connor I was—“ You spurt, but he cuts you off, smiling innocently as his puppy face can muster.

“Done. Would you like to see?”

You groan, “No, I probably look like a stupid frog, or a gasping fish out of water.”

Connor quirks an eyebrow at you, seemingly genuinely confused by your words. You sigh, trying to reign yourself in.

“I probably look dumb!” You whine and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’m quite fond of it. I’m going to keep it.”

You groan, despite how your stomach does little flips in reaction to his words. Your cappucino is empty now, which he notices with a cursory sweep of his eyes.

“Do you want another mocha cappucino?” He offers.

Now it’s your turn to raise your eyebrow, “Don’t you need to get back?”

He freezes, LED spinning yellow before abruptly standing.

“Whoa, hey! What’s wrong, Connor?” You jump at his sudden movements. He looks down at you, apologetic.

“There must be something faulty with my internal clock, for I set a self timer and have just now noticed it’s been going off… for approximately twelve minutes.” The android explains and you snort, slapping your palm against your mouth in response to the sound.

“Maybe I should get a check up…” he wonders aloud and you whistle at him, garnering his attention, interest in his eyes.

“I think you just got lost in the moment, Connor,” your voice is like a soothing balm to his anxiety as he visibly loosens the muscles causing his shoulders to tense, “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

You watch him chew on that thought briefly before smiling down at you, “Regardless, I need to get back to the station. Thank you for your time.”

He’s turning away from you when you panic and the words slip out of your mouth, “Can I see you again?”

Connor looks over his shoulder at you, replying without missing a beat, “Of course!”

“What’s your number?” You grope in your purse blindly, not breaking eye contact with the detective. Then you pull out your cell, turn it on, and open up a new contact.

Cooly he relays his number to you, “It’s the number assigned to my serial number. I can also give you the number to the phone on my desk, though I never use it.”

“Sure,” you chirp, “Why not?”

He gives you his desk phone number and you file that number away under his work phone. Then you save the contact and smile up at him. There’s a brief moment in time where you both just gaze at each other fondly.

“What are you doing tonight?” The question falls sweetly from his perfect lips and into your unworthy ears.

“Working. I go in at eight tonight.” You answer and he nods.

“And I get off at six, given I don’t get a new case thrown at me.” He smiles, then adds, “Would you like some company?”

He was going to visit you at work? You had been halfway joking when you gave him your work alias: Magic. You find yourself giggling and nod, “Sure, Connor. I would love some company.”

Connor grins, “That settles it. See you tonight, hopefully.”

“Hopefully…” you parrot back dreamily and he nods, almost curtly, before making his way back and out of the cafe. You watch him with interest into you can no longer follow his form from the window.

That’s when you slowly sink back into the cushions lining the back of the booth, your shoulders slumping. You had not expected him to be such a flirt. That boy was dangerous…

But so were you.

[tongueofcat]

Magic Lessons

Chapter Two: Lunch Date - Part 1

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor RK800/F!Human Reader

Tags: Innocent Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Smut, Father-Son Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)

Word Count: 3,983

Masterlist | Link to Ao3

Notes: Can’t sleep, write more Connor…

The next morning you’re absentmindedly brushing your teeth when you see yourself in the mirror: purple and green bruises have bloomed on the skin of your throat. You frown, tenderly brushing your fingers across the sore skin; the physician that overlooked you told you you’d probably see some bruising, and you wondered if you could color-correct and cover it all with foundation. You didn’t have classes today, but you wanted to get errands done without the whole world staring at your neck.

Then you eye the android detective’s blazer, hung over the shower rod to drip dry; you had been too anxious to just throw it in the dryer. It probably should be dry cleaned, truth be told. But you didn’t have dry cleaning money. You step closer to it, your hand raising to pinch at the fabric. Thank god, it’s dry… but how were you going to get it back to Detective Connor? You pull it down and fold it neatly before draping it over your arm and heading out of the bathroom and flopping back on your bed.

The soft sound of the news playing from your tv provides ambient noise, that is until a particular place is mentioned by one of the news anchors, pulling you from your thoughts: Pandora’s Box.

That's where you work, of course. The night club, Pandora’s Box, has been a great source of revenue for you so far. You started there as a freshman in college, knowing your college scholarship would only stretch so far. It allowed you to get an apartment by yourself and continue towards grad school. It wasn’t always pleasant, there were some unsavory patrons, like Ryan… but for the most part, people were respectful and kind. Sometimes too kind — the tips you made there on some nights had you throwing a duffel bag of bills in the washer to clean them. Talk about money laundering…

The news was talking about the assault of one of the club's dancers, who you knew to be Allison, but the news kept anonymous. They also talk about a high speed car chase that ended up in Ryan Mullins’ arrest. The man’s mugshot pops up on the screen, then the footage swipes to the police captain talking questions on the closed case. Then you perk up a little: in the background you can just make out a idle Detective Connor and the Lieutenant talking at their prospective desks in a bullpen of desks. Connor is smiling, and then he laughs — he’s just so cute you find yourself fixated on him. Then the camera pans back to the interviewer.

“Thank you, Captain Fowler. And now, the weather…”

The news anchors introduce the meteorologist and he starts to go over the daily and weekly highs and lows for the surrounding Detroit, Michigan area. You sigh, rolling off your stomach and getting dressed for the day. You do end up dabbing makeup on your neck and applying a smidge to your face — nothing crazy or fun, just neutral colors that accentuate your features. Once you’ve deemed yourself acceptable to go under the public eye, you grab the blazer and your purse and brave the dreary day.

It’s not raining, but you can tell the clouds are planning something. The sun is nowhere in sight and the sky is a dusty gray; the air is damp and heavy with humidity of a potential downpour. You make your way to the nearest bus stop, sitting on the bench next to a woman with a baby carrier. You glance over at the infant, who is currently making blubbering gurgling noises of glee. You smile softly at the baby, and your eyes catch with the mother and you both exchange a polite smile before you bring your eyes forward, then down at your lap as you scrounge in your purse to dig out your cell.

Idly, you put in directions for the Detroit Police Department, frowning when more than five pop up. Which one would the detective be at? Probably the main one, right? Shit, it would be weird to call and ask something like: hey, does the android detective work here? You weren’t even sure if the operator or secretary could answer that for you, for security reasons. You were just going to have to hope it was the main Detroit Police Department…

The bus arrives and you politely let the mother and her infant go on first before you climb on with the rest of the small crowd of humans and androids. Sitting down, you continue to calculate your trip to return the blazer.

It’s around twenty minutes and you find yourself at the closest stop to the Detroit Police Department. Thankfully, you only had to transfer buses once, and the walk was estimated to only be fifteen minutes. The clouds above crackled with ominous thunder, lighting branching through the thick clouds. It could pour any moment, you felt like you were racing against time… without really thinking about it, you were power walking towards the Detroit Police Office. But, you make it just in time, walking into the lobby of the police department and taking in the various kiosks and android secretaries behind the front desk. Shit, would they still not be able to answer if the detective worked here? You frown, but stiffen your shoulders and brace yourself for rejection as you get in the small line leading to one of the secretaries.

It doesn’t take long to be seen, the androids are very efficient at pointing people in the right way and scanning guests in. You step forward, politely smiling at the pretty android woman in front of you.

“Hello, this might be an odd request…” you begin, glancing down at the blazer folded over your arm, “I was wondering if the android detective, I think his name is Connor, works here?”

The LED on the side of her forehead whirs yellow and you pray for a positive response. It takes a while, longer than you think it should; she scans you over once and then smiles empathetically, voice lowering to a whisper.

“You were involved in the Pandora’s Box incident, right?” She mentions you by name and you tilt your head — and then shake it off, nodding; if that’s what gets you in to return the damn blazer, you’ll take it.

“Yes, I, uh, I work there. The detective questioned me last night and was kind enough to lend his blazer to me. I want to return it, please?” Even though that’s the short, sanitized version of last night, you don’t want to really get into the nitty gritty details with the secretary. The android thinks for a moment and nods, “I’ll print you out a visitor pass. Could you show me your ID?”

You breathe a soft sigh of relief and hand it to her, but then you find her looking a little giddy, maybe even nervous. You tilt your head, unsure whether to be more confused or concerned. The android waves off your response whispering, “I’m not technically supposed to do this, but Detective Connor is a friend and I think you coming all this way to return his blazer… even though he’s an android, like me… it’s nice.”

Before you can say anything she looks back up at you and smiles, handing you the guest pass, “There you go, and here’s your ID as well. Have a good day. Next in line, please.”

Wow, androids were becoming more and more nuanced every day. You look down at the guest pass briefly and step aside, pulling the lanyard over your head and walking over to the scanners to pass through. The scanner beeps positively in response to you swiping your guest pass and you enter the station proper.

First off: it’s huge. People are practically swarming around you, with tablets and even piles of physical data in tow. Anxiously, you make your way further into the station, finding a familiar area - the glass office of the police captain and the bullpen of detectives and other officers alike. With wide eyes you peer past the glass separator that makes a makeshift wall from the bullpen and the hallway. You don’t see Connor, but you do see the shaggy-haired lieutenant, his partner. With a small gulp you step forward, walking into the bullpen and towards him. He doesn’t notice you until you softly speak at him.

“Lieutenant Hank, right?” You confirm what you say by the plaque on his desk: Lt. Hank Anderson. He looks up at you, eyebrow raised, eyeing your guest badge.

“Sweetheart, that badge doesn’t grant you access to the bullpen, you know that right?” He speaks, but he isn’t loud about it. You visibly deflate — you’re breaking the rules in a damn police department now. He chuckles softly at your reaction.

“But I’m bored, so I won’t tell if you won’t,” a tinkle of mischief glints in his eye and you feel yourself inflating back to life, “How can I help you, miss?”

“Well, uh, last night… at Pandora's Box?” You begin and he puts two and two together fast. His mouth opens to a soft ‘o’ and he whispers, “You’re the girl that was used as a hostage. Sorry, little lady, you look, well you’re in civilian attire I guess, let’s say that.”

He smiles at you and you smile back, nodding, “Yes and your partner lent me his blazer. He forgot it — I tried to dry it to the best of my ability. I believe it’s not damaged. I wanted to give it back to him.”

“Well ain’t that sweet…” Hank chuckles, nodding to Connor’s desk, “Take a seat, he should be back soon. He went to grab me some coffee. In fact, he’s taking a stupidly long time — Connor!”

The lieutenant calls across the bullpen, alarming approximately no one. Apparently this is a common occurrence? The android in question pops his head out of the break room, frowning.

“Lieutenant, the coffee is brewing. I have been gone for approximately two-point-five minutes and thirty-two seconds. Please, have patience… oh…” the android notices you at the tail end of his bickering, locking eyes with yours across the hall and bullpen. You give him a sheepish smile, mouthing ‘hi’. He blinks, LED spinning yellow for a good two or three breaths before it turns blue again.

Then he gives the dorkiest wave, causing Hank to groan in what you can only imagine is second-hand embarrassment. You snort and then cover your mouth; you hated snorting, you used to be bullied and called a pig when you were little, actually up until high school, to be honest. Connor pops back into the break room, and three-ish minutes later he comes out with a disposable cup of coffee and a handful of little individual creamers and sugar packets for Hank. The lieutenant nods and mumbles his thanks, turning to doctor up his coffee properly for his tastes. That leaves the stupid pretty boy android staring down at you with a polite smile.

You are about to open your mouth to speak when he speaks first.

“It’s nice to see you again.” He sounds so damn sincere it almost catches you off guard. You laugh awkwardly and take the blazer out from under your arm, folding it neatly and offering it to Connor. He looks at it and nods, “My blazer, thank you.”

“Of course, detective… well, I have been informed that my being here is breaking the rules, so I will make myself scarce.” You stand and his eyes follow the movement, yellow LED spinning in thought.

“Are you hungry?”

“I— what?” You blink, looking up into his puppy dog eyes.

“I would like to thank you for returning my blazer with lunch, if that is agreeable?” He punctuates the ‘agreeable’ with a small tilt of his head and you feel heat blossoming in cheeks and your stomach does a small flip. When you don’t respond in manner fast enough for him, probably looking lie a gobsmacked fish out of water, he smiles sweetly, adding “Please?”

“Well,” You avert your eyes from his; you weren’t used to this almost innocent, genuine good-faith sweetness towards you, “How can I refuse that?”

The android grins, placing the blazer over his desk chair and nodding sharply, “I’m free now, are you free now?”

“Actually going to take a lunch break today, Connor?” Hank teases the detective, not even bothering to turn to look at him.

“Yes, Lieutenant. Shall we?” you look at his hand, which he is offering out to you, and you slowly place your hand in his. It’s… soft; feels just like healthy, properly-hydrated human skin. He doesn’t have any callouses, either. Of course he wouldn’t… he’s an android! Can they even get callouses? You don’t have much time to ponder that thought, as he pulls you forward, walking you calmly out of the bullpen, then down the hallway and out of the police department, grabbing a free umbrella on the way outside from the canister at the entrance. Under the overpass he comes to a halt, opening the umbrella with single swift and fluid motion. He comes closer to you, his arm brushing your arm and shoulder, making sure you’re covered under the umbrella before motioning forward, coaxing you both to walk out into the rain.

You’re walking under the umbrella with the detective for a soft minute before you realize you should pipe up and start a casual conversation.

“I’m glad I got here before the rain and the blazer is dry. I hope I dried it properly; I didn’t dry clean it, obviously… just hung it up to dry. Sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. Drip drying should be perfectly sufficient for that blazer; I didn’t see any damage to it when I examined it earlier.” He replies and you smile in relief - thank god, you cannot afford to buy him a new one.

“It’s a nice brand… I’m glad I didn’t ruin it.” You find yourself saying and he glances at you, eyes full of interest.

“It was a gift from my creator. Or, well, I’m not sure creator is the right word. Do you know Elijah Kamski?”

I shake my head, and he smiles sweetly my way before looking straight ahead, “He is the creator of the modern android. He used to be the CEO of CyberLife. I… came into contact with him during a case when I used to track down deviants. He sent me some nice clothing as a sort of, well, Hank says it’s an apology for manipulating me…”

You raise an eyebrow, “He manipulated you? Why?”

Connor places an arm in front of you, causing you to come to a soft halt at the glowing cross walk. He presses the foot traffic button and then turns his head to you, “It’s complicated, but he proposed a sort of test to prove I had free will, and wasn’t just purely following a set of programmed instructions. He called it the Kamski Test.”

You nod, encouraging him now, your curiousity getting the best of you.

“Well, I passed it. I don’t like thinking about it, maybe I’ll talk about it later in detail. Basically, he wanted to prove a theory via my budding deviancy.”

“I see…” you breathe, not sure what to think of that; but you don’t push, since he plainly said he doesn’t like thinking about it.

“Anyway…” the walkway turns green and the foot traffic sound chimes cheerily, you both step out into the street and walk across to the other side, “I normally don’t buy brand name. But I don’t want to waste clothes, even if they’re what the lieutentant says it’s a gift out of guilt.”

“That’s logical. I wouldn’t get rid of nice well-fitting clothes if I was gifted them, either. Regardless of origin…”

You glance at Connor and he’s smiling at you, nodding, “It’s refreshing to have someone agree with me — though it can be fun, the Lieutenant and I bicker a lot.”

You snort, internally cursing at yourself for the noise and you watch his face turn a little dopey looking at you.

“What was that?” Connor asks politely and you’re mortified. You clear your throat, “Uh… I dunno! I just snort-laugh sometimes? You’ve never heard someone do that?”

He shakes his head. Great, you’re the first snorter he’s met. Fantastic.

“It’s cute.” He supplies simply and you feel your stomach do that flip again, only it’s more dramatic this time. Before you can argue, he stops, causing you to stop in tow. You look at the little cafe he’s stopped you in front of. It’s called The Slow Drip.

“We’re here. This place has good reviews… and the Lieutenant likes the coffee here the most. I hope it’s to your liking?” Connor smiles and you find yourself smiling back

“I’m sure I’ll like it… I’m not particularly picky.” You offer and he nods, walking you inside, closing the umbrella and shaking it off at the door before getting in line with you. The place isn’t packed per say, but it is busy. There’s soft jazz playing over the speakers and the soft chattering of people and bustle of moving cups and plates. You anxiously pull out your phone, to check your bank account… you should have enough for a cup of coffee and a little snack. Connor eyes your phone and must’ve noticed you’re looking at your bank account.

“Don’t worry, my treat. I asked you out, remember?” He dips down to breathe softly in your ear. Electricity runs up your spine and you let out a choppy breath, almost dropping your phone, “D-detective!”

He chuckles, coming to stand up straight beside you, adjusting his tie, “Sorry, sorry… I shouldn't have snooped, but I can’t help it — it’s in my coding.”

He gives you another sweet smile.

“Excuses… you’re a deviant android with free will, right?” You blurt and he nods, coaxing you to continue with a curious smile, “Then you can resist peeking at my phone.”

Connor laughs, this time a little more heartily, “You’re right, you’re right… I apologize.”

The two of you move up in line and you find yourself looking at the menu and then eyeing the pastry and cake display at the front. Your eyes pull on a piece of strawberry shortcake, the cake making you lick your lips at the idea of digging into it. Connor sees this and decides to comment on it, “So, strawberry shortcake. What else?”

You sigh, pouting at how obvious you were being. Your eyes peer up at the drink menu and you sigh, almost in a defeated manner, “Mocha cappucino, please…”

He sharply nods, “Would you like anything else?”

You eye him for a moment then shake your head, “No, that will suffice, good sir.”

“Go ahead and order, then.”

“Oh…” you hadn’t realized you were already first in line, you cleared your throat and looked at the barista android, “One hot mocha cappucino and a slice of strawberry shortcake, please.”

The android nods and looks to you for payment, but then Conor pipes up, “I’m paying.”

The two androids exchange money via wireless electronic transfer silently and the barista nods with a smile, passing over a table number, “It’ll be right out, thank you!”

The detective leads you to a cozy booth in the corner, near the artificial crackling hearth nearby. It was early autumn, so the heat wasn’t blasting, but what heat did exude was nice. He watches you slide into the booth first before following suit on the other side. He plants the table number precisely at the center edge of the table, making sure the number is visible for the baristas.

You find yourself wringing your hands anxiously. When was the last time you were on a date? Especially an impromptu date. Wait, was this a date? You look up nervously at Connor, whom you find studying you, his LED spinning yellow.

“Detective?” You chirp and he blinks, focusing on your eyes instead of the whole picture of you.

“Yes?”

“Is this a… date?”

The LED on his temple spins rapidly, bright yellow again. He purses his lips thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly.

“What’s your definition of date?” He replies with a soft, polite smile. You swallow hard, why did this android make you feel like guileless idiot?

“Is this platonic or romantic?” You find yourself explaining simply. But anxiety bubbles harshly in your gut when you watch the beautiful android ponder that, that LED a halo of yellow light again…

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I’ve never been on a date.”

You’re taken aback, “I beg your pardon?”

He smiles gently, maybe even a little sheepishly, “Sorry, that doesn’t answer your question. Uh, well, I am interested in you… why, I can’t put my finger on it.”

“What… kind of interested?” You probe and he chuckles nervously, his eyes flitting to look out the window. They stay there, “Uh, I want to know more about you? I’m not sure… the feeling is annoyingly abstract, to be fully transparent with you. I felt drawn to you in the club, too.”

“Huh.” Drawn to you, huh? Interesting. Confidence started to bubble in your stomach, replacing the anxiety and nervousness. You lean forward, eyes slightly half-lidded, voice soft and breathy.

“Elaborate, detective.” It was more of a command than a request. You smile as blue blood visibly rushes to his cheeks, ringing his ears, too. His eyes flutter back to you, deep and brown.

“I…” he begins, swallowing, “I saw you and I felt… odd. N-not in a bad way, but, odd nonetheless.”

“Mhm…” you muse as sultry-sounding as you can. He must like that, because you could swear the blush deepens. He sighs, “You are… complicating this.”

“Oh?”

“Yes… are you teasing me?” The android asks and you can’t help to smile.

“Me? Detective… why, I would never!”

“Lie.” He lets out a breath, closing his eyes, leaning back.

“Ok, I admit it. You’re fun to tease when you’re not teasing me.”

He raises an eyebrow, “When did I tease you?”

Your mouth goes agape, your voice lost in your throat at the sheer cluelessness of this man. He didn’t realize he was teasing, dare you say, flirting!? Outrageous.

“I’m not going to list all the examples… but you’ve been doing what most people would call flirting.”

“Huh. So, I guess this is a romantic date?” He looks at you with those stupid big puppy eyes, as if to confirm.

“I… how can you be a blushing puppy one moment and then the other say bold things like that?”

“Puppy?” He smiles, a little confused looking, but he mostly looks amused.

Then a gorgeous plate of strawberry shortcake is placed on the table between the two of you, as well as your hot mocha cappucino. It breaks the tension between you both like a hot knife though butter — instantly.

Your confidence deflates and he leans back comfortably in his side of the booth. You murmur thanks to the barista and they leave, leaving you to your delicious looking cake and cappucino. Stupidly, impulsively, you lift the cup to your lips.

“Stop.”

You pause, looking up at Connor through your lashes. His LED spins yellow and you could swear his pupils are blown out. Why? You’re not sure.

“What?”

“You have a ninety-eight percent chance of burning your tongue if you drink it now. The temperature is very hot and is a potential hazard… I would wait about two to possibly three minutes before consuming your beverage.”

You slowly place the cappucino back down, giggling a little at the silliness of his need to throw out a percentage and offer a waiting time period, “My savior…”

He smiles, proud of himself. God, he’s a dork.

[tongueofcat]

Magic Lessons

Chapter One: Hostage

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor RK800/F!Human Reader

Tags: Innocent Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Smut, Father-Son Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)

Word Count: 2,358

Masterlist | Link to Ao3

Notes: I couldn’t help it, I slipped and wrote Connor. I have serious Connor RK800 brain rot…

The first time you met Connor it was a few years after the Android Revolution. There had just been a violent attack on one of the dancers in one of the private VIP areas, leaving a girl you considered a close friend battered and bruised all over; her face was warped with welts, all puffy and dripping blood. Human dancers were a luxury — hell, even android dancers were rare after the revolution. The police arrived at the scene, looking for the culprit, who was still somewhere in the club per android security surveillance. That's when you saw him — dressed in normal semi-formal attire fitting a detective, his hair tousled by wind, one curl laid on his forehead, dripping droplets of water lazily down the bridge of his nose. He was handsome, and you didn’t immediately notice he was an android, but then he turned to acknowledge an older man, presumably his partner, and you could clearly see the blue circular LED on the side of his temple.

All of the dancing and usual frolicking had stopped, but the club’s music still was loud enough to vibrate the floor beneath you. You were sitting in your uniform for the night: a shiny patent leather black bikini top and matching thong; your feet were clad in black, high-heeled boots. You let your mind wander, perched on the lip of the dance floor, that is until you saw movement in your peripherals: the pretty android detective was approaching you, hand combing through his hair, pushing back that one wet curl with the movement. He stopped in front of you and you offered him a small, polite smile, watching his LED turn yellow, presumably scanning you over or something, you weren’t too sure: your family wasn’t rich, so you didn’t grow up with even a housekeeper android. You actually didn’t know much about them except what you’ve gleaned from fellow android dancers and bouncers. It feels like a small eternity before he clears his throat, speaking.

“Hello, my name is Connor, I am a detective working for the Detroit Police Department. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the attack that just occurred.” It was more of a statement than a request; despite deviancy and the growth of personality in free will, a lot of androids were still very straight-forward. You usually found it cute, especially now.

“Of course, detective, go ahead.” You can’t help yourself, you lean in, interested and subconsciously showing off your cleavage more than it was already on display. You wondered if you could toy with him a bit and get away with it.

His brown eyes flit down at your movement, and he somehow had the gall to look innocent as he looked at you, but his eyes quickly met with yours again.

“Y-your manager says you were the one that found your coworker, Allison Carter, unconscious in the VIP area, could you confirm that?” His voice broke a little at the beginning, but other than that he was perfectly stoic. You had to fight the urge to grin at your small accomplishment.

You leaned back, exposing your neck a little as you looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, “… Yes, detective, that’s true.”

“What made you want to check up on your co-worker?” He asked, and you could see him deviate his eyes from you, choosing to look at the wall for a few beats. You caught his eye again when you sat up straight and sighed, shoulders slumping.

“I… I had a bad feeling, detective. Something felt wrong in my gut, does that make sense?” You explained, suddenly sobering up from your silliness and getting serious. The android detective nods, “I’m aware of this human phenomena.”

Detective Connor asked you a few more questions and then looked around the room, seeming to scan the entire club floor, before looking down at me with a polite smile. You almost melted under his puppy eyes, but held strong.

“Would you be able to show me around?” He asked and a few questions bubbled up to the surface, the loudest one being why you? A bouncer could easily show him around. But, you were nodding before you could really think to say no, “Sure, detective.”

You come to a stand, and he’s just a smidgen taller than you in your high heels, which you notice right away. You feel stupid for liking it, and slowly put that feeling away for later. With the clack of your heels you show him to the VIP areas, lastly stopping at the one you found Allison. The rooms are all the same: small box rooms lined in with red velvet curtains and wrap-around couches with a circular dance stage with a pole in the middle. The android looks around and you sit down on one of the couch sections. Your feet hurt and being off them alleviated the pain by a small fraction.

But, you’re not able to enjoy that for long, for a thick, large hand grabs you from behind, in the curtains, pulling you partially behind them. You scream and Connor is there, making his way toward you, but then he freezes when the barrel of a gun is pressed to your temple.

Emerging slowly from the curtains is the culprit, a regular and total sleazebag, Ryan Mullins. The man was a strong, tall individual, and the way he was holding you, his hand gripping hard on your neck, made it hard for you to breathe, something the android detective noticed.

Connor put his hands up, “Mr. Mullins I must ask you to release her windpipe, if you don’t she wi—“

“Shut up, plastic!” Ryan spit, the barrel of the gun pressing harder into your temple, “If you care about this slut you will let me leave through the back exit and NOT follow me, capiche?” Tears pricked at the edges of your vision before you feel yourself try to gulp; the tears spill, and you try to sob, but the sound comes out broken and raw.

The android detective’s LED momentarily whirs red before jumping to yellow for a beat, then blue, “Ryan, please, adding murder to your track record tonight is not a good idea. If you just—“

“Keep talking, you hunk of junk and I will shoot!” The enraged man hisses and you keep crying, barely able to make out the muddy smudge that’s Connor in your vision. Connor squints thoughtfully and slowly backs away, “Ok… just don’t hurt her.”

You feel Ryan pull me through the curtains and out of the VIP room, into the hallway that leads to each VIP room. His grip on my throat lessens and you gasp for air.

“Shut up, you stupid slut, or I will shoot you — stay quiet.”

You make out Connor stepping out of the room, arms still up and slowly following Ryan out of the hallway into the main room. People gasp and there’s the cocking of many guns from the police but you hear the detective again, “Don’t shoot! We have an agreement…”

Ryan laughs nervously, backing with you out the exit and into the tell-tale Detroit rain. You’re soaked within seconds as he pulls you to presumably his car.

He adjusts his hold on you, unlocking his door with a swipe of his hand. Fancy cars didn’t need keys anymore and worked on chips implanted in the wrist. Quickly he gets in and pushes you forward, causing you to fall on the concrete. The car sloppily pulls out and drives out of the club’s parking lot. You hear a smattering of footfalls approach you, then hands that are as strong as they are gentle coax you up. You can barely see through your tears but it’s the android detective, taking off his blazer and putting it on your shoulders, walking you back into the club. You’re shaking, but not from the wet and the cold.

“I’m sorry.” You hear him say, but you don’t really process it until he sits you down on a barstool. He bends slightly to look in your eyes, scanning you again with a tight-lipped expression.

“I-I…” you warble at him and his face softens to those puppy eyes again, empathy welling up in them.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” It’s like he was reading your mind. You could only hiccup wetly in response.

“Your temperature is very low, I’m going to find a towel to dry you off so your internal temperature can go back to around 98.5 degrees.” But before he can leave, you grab onto his wrist, causing him to freeze and look back at you, his LED spinning yellow.

“No!” You muster up, your voice bubbling through the rawness of your throat, “Please, detective. I don’t want to be alone…”

He stares at you, the LED spinning yellow until it slows to a soft blue. He nods slowly, “Alright. But I will ask my partner to get you a towel. Hank!”

Connor turns his head to call his partner, the older man who had been watching from the sidelines comes over, worry etched on his face as he looks you over then turns to the android, “What is it, son?”

“Can you get a towel for her? I need to… stay here.”

“What?! Connor I’m not your goddamn French maid, you do it!” Hank protests but Connor looks at him seriously, tight lipped and stoic.

“I promised her I wouldn’t leave.” He explains and the older detective groans, shaking his head and grumbling as he stomps off.

“Don’t mind the Lieutenant…” Connor’s voice draws you to his face again; he is smiling sweetly at you. You feel like a gross, drowned rat in front of an angel… you squirm a little uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Don’t worry, he will be back with a towel soon.” You almost laugh — he must have noticed your discomfort and assumed its because you’re wet and cold. But you nod.

“Tell me about yourself, please.” He says all of the sudden, which catches you off guard. You arch an eyebrow at him, “Why, detective?”

Without missing a beat he replies, “Because I want to know more about you, is that so odd?” He punctuates his question with a slight tilt of his head.

Heat rushes to your cheeks at his honesty, perhaps even innocence? You can’t look him in the eyes suddenly and for the first time since high school you hear your own heartbeat in your ears due to another person.

“I’m 25, I’m in college… I work here as a dancer to pay my tuition and apartment.” You begin slowly and he nods, as if to coax more out of me.

“What are you going to college for, if I might ask?” He chirps politely and you find yourself smiling at his seemingly genuine interest.

“Psychology… I want to be a therapist. I want to help people.” You answer and he grins.

“That’s wonderful! Helping people is a noble cause.”

Weak laughter makes its way out of you and you nod, “I agree, detective.”

“Hmm, you must be busy. We should get you seen by a physician as soon as we can to make sure you’re ok. After we get you dried off, that is.”

“It’s ok, I don’t have classes tomorrow and I’m caught up on my assignments…”

“Still,” he insists, “You should get some rest tonight.”

Then a towel hits him, billowing over his face. The lieutenant detective huffs with a wiry smile on his lips, “That’s what you get for bossing me around, kid.”

Connor doesn’t move for a moment, but then he takes the towel off his face and exposes his annoyed expression, “Thank you, Hank. I appreciate your ongoing support.”

“Support my ass, you’re lucky I approve of you flirting with pretty girls…” he grumbles as he walks off to join the other police officers. You had followed the lieutenant’s exit, not thinking much about his little jab on the android until you met with his eyes again.

His face was tinged a soft blue, particularly his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His LED is yellow and spinning fast.

“Detective?” You ask and he blinks rapidly, the LED turning back to blue. He clears his throat, “Would you like help drying off?”

You shake your head, “I can do it, thank you. Sorry about making you stay back with me… I’m sure you’re busy with Ryan driving off like that.”

Connor stands up straight and smiles, shaking his head, “I got his license plate and sent out a call for his arrest earlier, I doubt he’ll get far.” He hands you the towel and you take it, shrugging out of his blazer and placing it on the bar. You go about drying yourself, Connor watching at first, then turning around after a moment to give you a modicum of privacy, which you find strangely endearing.

“All done.” You announce and he glances back at you with a small smile.

“A physician should be able to look you over soon, then a police officer will escort you home, if you wish.” He says, looking back at the club and towards the gaggle of police officers.

“Detective?”

His brown eyes are on yours again, curious, “Yes?”

“You’re always welcome here, if you come back ask for Magic, ok?”

He raises an eyebrow in question.

“It’s my name here.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you.” His LED is whirring yellow as he speaks then you hear the old man, the lieutenant, call over the android.

“Stop flirting and come on, Connor!”

“C-coming, Lieutenant!” He waves sweetly to you in goodbye and you wave back. He’s gone before you can realize he forgot his blazer. You get looked over by a physician and are cleared as physically healthy. A police car takes you to your apartment and you collapse on your bed, the android’s blazer under your arm.

You barely manage to kick off your high heels before you feel sleep pulling your eyelids down. You crawl under the blankets and burrow down, closing your eyes and falling into a deep sleep.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Aid

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Short Reader

Warning: N/A

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: Based off the many times i’ve climbed shelves in shops to reach high up items, except this time there’s a Connor to come help where humans fail to. 

Gender neutral

“Do you need assistance?” You nearly fall, from where you are practically climbing the supermarket shelves in an attempt to reach the bag of doritos that is out of your reach, at the curious voice which calls out to you. But you hold onto the metal shelves and manage to look over your shoulder without falling off. 

What you see is an android; male, dark brown hair which sweeps effortlessly to his left, brown eyes, a gentle looking face, pale skin, amazing posture. He is not an employee of the supermarket, that much is clear given by the suit and tie that he’s sporting rather than the uniform you’re used to seeing. Instead it is obvious he’s a fellow shopper offering help to your rather short self. 

“Yes, please, that would be...that would be lovely.” You make to move off the shelving that you’re standing on, and find a pair of hands at your shoulders helping you reach the floor without tripping. Despite, him being a stranger, it is appreciated and you smile up at his taller frame as he moves back to give you the usual personal space that’s accepted. 

You watch him reach for the bag of doritos you’d tried and failed to reach, with ease and take the bag from him gratefully. “Thank you so much...”

“Connor.” He nods at you in greeting and you find that his name seems to fit him rather well. You find yourself rather attracted to the android who’s kindness saved you from nearly hurting yourself for a bag of crisps. He is also very handsome, Cyberlife having perfected the attractive symmetry of the human face. Although, androids were now free and accepted equals. Which you were rather happy with having always been an advocate for android rights. 

“Y/N.” 

The two of you stand there for a longer time than perhaps is normal for two strangers, just staring and smiling at each other. He has a very kind face and you find that you’re rather hoping that you get to see him again. “Thank you...for the help.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” 

Once again the two of you stand smiling at each other and you decide to bite the figurative bullet. You’re interested, he’s nice. He at the very least helped you when others had walked on by. Perhaps it was time to fight the fear of rejection.

“Would...would it be alright if I gave you my number, Connor?” You watch his LED go yellow, processing for a moment, before turning blue again. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you.

“That would be...appreciated. Perhaps I can help you reach other things in the future?” It’s teasing at the end and you role your eyes at the short comment, but unlike with others do not find yourself annoyed at it. Rather the teasing makes you smile a little more. 

“Perhaps, although coffee would be nice too.” 

You recite your phone number to him and watch him as he stores it away in his mind, a more efficient alternative to the typical typing someone else’s number into your phone. 

“Call me sometime.” You give him one last rather bashful smile, before taking your shopping trolley and continuing on through the shop. You find yourself looking back at him a few times before he’s out of sight and you hope that he does call you. He’s perhaps the cutest android you’d seen in a while and despite his teasing he was obviously very kind.