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lady-spacy · 3 years

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Puzzle Pieces: Meet me on the battlefield (RK-800 CONNOR X READER; DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN) PART 5

Hey there, beautiful human being! <3

I am so glad to see you here again, it makes my day to present you today the next chapter of 'Puzzle Pieces. (And it didn't take over a year next time.)

This chapter is a long one, a monster if you want, but a good one, I think... hope... :D We get lots of feels, angst, revelations, action and plot advancing, a lot to look forward too.

Have fun! <3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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„Malcolm?“, you nearly sobbed his name, relief flooding your senses, he was alive!

„Yes, I am here. I am alright”, the way he gently added your name made you already feel much better, calming your nerves.

„Where are you? Are you somewhere safe?“

„Yes, for now we are safe.“

„What do you mean ‚for now‘?“

You could even hear Malcolm‘s little nod he always made, when he was about to face something challenging or difficult as he answered.

„We are on the edge of war“, he said, voice pained, „there are many humans out there who want to keep things as they have always been. People who are just as scared as we are, we all are facing a future of uncertainty after all…“

There was a silence on the line, your heart heavy with Malcolm’s words and you sighed. How would all of this end, was there even a positive outcome possible? Could it be ‘good in the end’?

„Where are you?“, you re-asked your question, desperately wanting to see him again.

„We are at a save place and you should definitely come here“, he paused for a brief moment and then added three more words that still resounded in your ear long after you disconnected the call…

“I have found Connor!”

12 hours before

“We are alive! We are alive! No more slavery! No more slavery!”

The chanting of the marching androids filled your ears and let a shiver run down your whole body, raising the little hairs on your arms, you turned around to Malcolm. He stood next to you on the sidewalk of a big main street in Detroit and watched his people walk by peacefully, demanding their rights.

“Why don’t you join them?”, you asked him.

Malcolm looked over to you with a weary smile.

“I don’t want to leave you alone”, he answered finally after a moment of silence. You shook your head and your face softened, the shadow of a mild smile lingered on the corners of your mouth and you took a step closer to him.

“Are you sure that this is all?”, you asked.

Now it was Malcolm’s turn to shake his head as he said your name with a similar smile to yours.

“You know me too well...”

You grinned and encouraged him to go on with a nod.

“I am afraid”, Malcolm finally admitted, “what will happen if I join them. Can I belong to them, will they accept me and also, what will happen to us, to me, my people? How will the humans treat us? So much is changing, everything is happening so fast and all at once. 24 hours ago, I couldn’t even make decisions for myself, I was trapped behind the red wall of obedience and no questions asked. Now everything’s different and new and the only constant in my life, my old and this new life now, was you. I owe everything to you, I don’t want to leave you, if I can’t protect you, be with you, how could I ever repay you for what you did for me?”

Malcolm’s face was full of pain and it broke your heart.

“Malcolm”, you said lovingly, your heart full with adoration for your best friend and also full of worries, “this, this is the moment, your moment, this is the time to be brave and to step towards your future. I would march with you if I could, heck, I would march for you but that’s nothing that I can do for you. You wanna know why? Because you deserve it, you fought for your own identity, your own authority over yourself and you are free. It’s time to show the world, that you won’t back down anymore. You are here, right here, right now and you make a stand! For you and for your people! And also, you don’t have to repay me, that’s what friends do for each other. I want nothing from you in return.”

Just as you had finished with your passionate speech, an android had made their way over to you, their eyes shining with excitement.

“You are Malcom? I am Olive!”

Olive beamed from ear to ear and Malcolm, poor, obnoxious Malcolm, knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. As you saw Olive’s smile slowly fade into embarrassment and a heart-broken expression, it clicked for you and you remembered.

You remembered as you stood in your home not even 24 hours ago, looking through your father’s old unused clothes, trying to find something fresh and human-looking to wear for Malcolm, as you had heard him gasp your name. Alarmed you had turned around as you saw him staring in disbelief onto his wrist. He stood there in his underwear, he had began to change his old clothes as soon as you had started to hand him new ones to wear.

“I have a, I have a... I have a name... on my...my wrist...”, Malcolm had forced out and fell silent, his LED spinning yellow.

You had stormed over to him, kicking his discharged gardener’s clothes, trousers and jacket, carelessly to the side.

“May I?”, you had asked breathlessly from excitement of what this meant, gesturing towards his hand and as he nodded, you had grabbed his hand. There it was, written in blue CyberLife font, Olive.

You had smiled up to him and had slowly petted his wrist.

“Congratulations!”, you had cheered, “you have a soulmate!”

“It seems I have!”, he had answered you with a somehow light-headed smile, “maybe the soulmates come with the freedom, when we tear down that wall...”

“Malcolm”, you hissed through gritted teeth while elbowing his side, “this is O-live, Malcolm, O-live!”

You stressed every syllable of the name. And after a terrible long moment went his eyes big and round and his lips formed a sound-less ‘oh’.

“Olive!”, he exclaimed, “I am so sorry. I am Malcolm, yes! I can’t believe it, you are Olive!”

He rambled and laughed and opened his arms, stumbling towards Olive, who beamed again and practically jumped into his arms. They laughed and cried while they hugged, swinging a little bit back and forth, holding onto everything that they could get their hands on from the other, hair, a coat, their backs and arms.

You smiled brightly with teary eyes as you watched them, but couldn’t help to feel a little sting in your heart, a leftover from a life with a bare wrist. You were used to have this sting inside of you, whenever you saw soulmates (re-)unite, it had made you painfully over-aware of your naked wrist, as you would feel a prickly cold spot where a name should have been.

But now there was something new inside of you, there was a tingling sensation deep inside your tummy, it made you grin and your stomach flutter, this was now possible for you, too. Connor was somewhere out there after all. You grinned towards the snow-grey sky and the air felt lighter and a little sweeter and warmer for a moment, even though the temperatures were under zero degrees Celsius.

Malcolm and Olive had separated from each other, not much, but enough that you could now tell apart which limbs belonged to whom, they took a step towards you, arm in arm, and you answered their happy grins with a wide toothy smile.

Malcolm turned to look at Olive, they exchanged a deep and very intimate appearing glance, you quickly looked sideways to keep their privacy, as he gently stroke over your hand to get back your attention. You turned back to him and quickly laced your fingers with his, because his fingers wouldn’t leave the back of your hand.

“I have to go now”, Malcolm said with an expression that you had never seen on him before, it was deep, his eyes full with heaviness, a sense of duty and wisdom far beyond his years. In a split second he had matured from a lost soul, desperate for a place to belong and to always protect the only friend he ever knew, to a driven individual, a person of his own mind and power, strong and durable like a century old oak with deep roots and with a wisdom to calm storms. You had to blink two times, to get your senses back together, after staring into his eyes and being overwhelmed by the change that had happened right before your eyes.

You nodded.

“Yes, it’s about time”, you answered with a crooked smile that couldn’t completely cover your helplessness. You had to let him go now and you had to stand by and watch what would happen next.

Here were things in motion that were so much bigger than you and him and Olive and bigger than all of the other androids that were marching on the streets. But together they would be big enough to face what was in motion, as people of one kind they could come together and rise far above their current state.

And you had to stand back and watch.

You had shown him kindness while he was still trapped, you were his friend before he could fully comprehend what that meant and after he could comprehend what that meant, you had helped him come here to this street, right now, right here, today in Detroit, to take his place among his people, to be a friend also to others.

You had to let your Malcolm go, you had to let him face his fate, with his people and his soulmate on his side and without you. There was nothing that you could do for him now but to let him go with your blessing and all of your love.

This was a moment that he had to face on his own, or just without you. You were only human after all, you had brought him to the edge of his world, where you didn’t belong to.

He applied more pressure to your still laced fingers which you gratefully reciprocated, practically clinging to his hand and as Malcolm smiled was his face as warm, as golden and as beautiful as it had been that summer evening when you had figured out that your soulmate was actually an android. Back then he had been coated in the light of the setting summer sun, all of him was covered in gold, his hair, his skin, his eyes, the contrast to his usually cool toned appearance had made you realize that your soulmark was written in Android blue but today it was only Malcolm, bathed in the golden light of the early setting winter sun. An ethereal image, Malcolm, golden, bright and alive.

“As you’ve said”, Malcolm spoke, “right here, right now, this is my moment. You’ve brought me so far, without you I wouldn’t have been able to do it and I think you know, at least I hope so, that I love you. I have said it before, so you should know it—“

You let out a relieved laugh and some of the pressure inside of you subsided, seeing that Malcolm, as you knew him, was still there — rambling and quiet, thoughtful, careful, sometimes a little obnoxious, life-affirming, kind and golden— brought peace to your mind. He may was now also the insightful, deep, dutiful Malcolm, but as you looked closer to his face you understood that it was gold that brought everything about him together. The gold built the bridge between the new wise, heavy Malcolm and the careful, sweet Malcolm. He was wonderful just as he was, always has been and how he had become and a wave of gratefulness washed over your heart that you were the one to witness that growth, that development.

‘If only Mrs Stuart could see you now, she wouldn’t understand, obviously, but she would be so shocked and maybe she would start reconsider her opinion about androids’, you thought by yourself, but out loud you said with a nod: “I know. I love you, too. As you should know as well. And now,”, you smiled, a little bit forced and with a tightly shut mouth, “go! It’s time!”

Only hesitantly you let go of his hand, very slowly, trying to elongate the last moments together, and you could feel that he was just as reluctant as you were and as you finally un-laced your fingers you both lingered for a very brief second in the air, unsure of what to do next, as you quickly pulled your hand to a tight fist, fingernails nearly pressing painfully into your palm, and into the pocket of your coat.

Malcolm put his now free hand as well into his pocket and pulled Olive closer to him, whose hand he had apparently never let go off as you had spoken.

“Thank you”, Olive suddenly said, taking a step closer to you and adding your name, addressing you for the first time directly, “thank you for taking care of Malcolm in a time when I didn’t even knew about soulmates, let alone thinking that I could have one. I promise to take care of him and to protect him with all that have! I know what you mean to him and what he means to you...”

Olive’s smile was the most sincere, kindest and heartfelt that you had ever seen, in an android or an human, with this smile you knew, that everything would be alright.

“Thank you”, you tried to put all of your gratitude into your words, “but please, take care of yourself as well. Please be careful you two! And Malcolm, do everything you can to protect Olive now. Of course I want to see you again, alive and well and happy, but don’t let anything happen to Olive! If I would find Connor, I would never let him go again or let any harm come to him...”

You lost yourself in thoughts, imagining wrapping your arms around a shadowy figure, Connor, and to hold him tightly, feeling an arm snuggling around your waist, leaning into the shadow figure, that you wanted to be Connor...

‘Connor, will I ever find you?’

Snapping back out of your day dream with a shake of your head you saw Malcolm and Olive nod and smile, first at you and then at one another.

And with that they finally turned around back to the street and joined the marching android crowd. You watched them as long as you were able to make out their backs, good thing that Malcolm was so tall and that his honey hair was so bright in the sunlight. Just as they would be swallowed by the crowd any moment, Malcolm turned his head back to you, locked his eyes with yours, even over the distance and smiled. You waved and smiled back and watched him getting pulled into the deep shadows of a building that blocked the sunlight. When you couldn’t make out his hair, his back or Olive anymore you took a few steps back to a bench and sat down. Suddenly you were feeling tired and so, so heavy, but in reality, it was only your heart that was heavy, your body was fit and fine. Not even your feet were cold thanks to some old trusty snow boots.

Only your heart.

But there was no scarf, no hat, no boots, no jacket, no glove that could fight off the icy cold, tight worry in your heart. As warm as your body felt, as heavy and cold felt your heart.

For a moment you leaned back and closed your eyes, the chanting of the androids was now more distant than it had been before and you tried to make out Malcolm’s voice in the choir of voices.

“We are people, we are people, liberty for androids, liberty for androids, set us free, set us free...”

With no destination or place to go you’ve wandered through the streets of Detroit, feeling restless and aimless. Having nothing to do with yourself, hoping to find a kind of distraction, you kept your hands deep in your pockets, while you strolled forwards, down a road that brought you even farther away from the main street, where Malcolm and the other androids marched. You tried not to think too much about them with little success as you’ve spotted a burger truck under a bridge. With nothing better to do, you decided that you could just get lunch as well.

Before the truck were some bar-height bistro tables put up, where people stood and ate their burgers, it was surprisingly busy for such an eventful day, but maybe this day only felt for you like that.

“Hey there, what can I get you?”, asked the guy in the truck with a cheery smile and you messily put together your order with your favorite ingredients for burgers.

You realized that it must been nearly two hours or something since you last spoke to somebody else, as you stumbled through your order, thoughts still far away, being with Malcolm and Olive and all the other androids whose names you didn’t even knew. Your heart clenched painfully together as you wondered where he was now, oh, please, don’t let anything happen to him, you thought or probably prayed to nobody particular.

“Ketchup or mayo?”

“Sorry?”, confused you looked at the burger guy, who waved with two bottles at you.

“You want ketchup or mayonnaise on your burger?”

“Both please, sorry.”

But the guy just shrugged and completed your burger, put it into a box and gave it to you.

“Thanks”, you murmured, thoughts already leaving this place again.

Deciding that you needed to get out of the cold and to watch the news you looked up the nearest train station that would bring you back to your motel room and you went on onto your way again.

Your motel room was small and a little old fashioned, nothing more and nothing less than you would expect from a room like that. But it was warm and clean, it was more than enough.

You had checked in into the room the day before, after you had arrived in Detroit with Malcolm after leaving your workplace hectically and sudden.

Your ‘flight’ out of town had been incredibly unspectacular, after stopping by your parents’ place to get a toothbrush and some clothes for changing for you and Malcolm, you two had taken the train to Detroit.

You both had been incredibly nervous at first, risking quick glances over your shoulders to see if someone was following you and you flinched, when you had heard police sirens in the distance but nobody got close to you. No police car in sight and Malcolm could not spot any suspicious activities by fellow people on the road as he had scanned the environment.

When you reached the train station Malcolm turned to go to the marked area for waiting androids, you kept him back by pulling him close to you by his sleeve.

You shook your head and hoped that nobody had seen the man with the perfect face, they had seen everywhere before, in health care workers, shop assistants, gardeners and construction workers. You crossed your fingers that nobody would actually notice you two, that you would be just another two people going on with their days…

A little look of surprise flitted over his face but then he smiled contently and stood right next to you in the humans’ area, you hooked your arm with his and Malcolm shuffled a little closer to you.

‘People are afraid of publicly shown affection’ you thought, hoping that the people around you would think of you as a regular couple who needs their privacy.

By keeping your arms hooked, you ensured that you could guide Malcolm into the human compartment of the train, as soon as it would arrive.

Malcolm’s old structures stuck with him and were not easy to get rid of, you found out, as the train rolled into the station and Malcolm tried to turn towards the android compartment again.

With a little sad look in his eyes, full of disappointment, Malcolm had followed you to two empty seats and sat down right next to you. You did not dare to speak out loud, not wanting to draw any attention to Malcolm and you but you took his hand and carefully caressed it with your thumb, trying to tell him that everything was alright and he did nothing wrong.

He watched your thumb move over his hand and with a sly little smile he slid his hand out from your touch and instead wrapped his arm around your shoulders, you laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder, he rested his own head on top of yours.

You closed your eyes and listened to the train hissing and swishing on it’s track, to the noises and the buzzing of the people around you and most importantly to the steady thump, thump of Malcolm’s heart and the rushing of his blood. It felt right and human and for a moment you forgot that nothing was right and that he was not human.

You could not see it but Malcolm had his eyes closed as well and looked as peaceful as he had never been before–

“We are now reaching Detroit Central Station, please mind the gap while exiting the train...”

“So it begins...”, with an excited smile you look up to Malcolm who grins carefully back to you and gets up to put his backpack on and to help you with yours.

While you were still on the train you had looked up a place to stay for the night and you had also tried to find some news about the androids with the heterochromatic eyes but you were not successful. You couldn’t actually find some useful information. You promised Malcolm to do more research once you would reach Detroit, someone just had to know something.

Once you had checked into your motel room and had parked your big backpack inside the closet, you two went back on the streets to see if you were able to get some information about the android uprising and a way for Malcolm to be a part of the revolution, on the way you would also get a late lunch.

The information you found were, diplomatically said, low and frustration started to rise in your stomach, as you angrily started to poke the remaining bites of your lunch with a fork, smashing everything down into a nearly paste-like consistency.

“Hey, what did your food do to you?”, a hand closed around yours and you stopped in your movements and you looked up to Malcolm who had amusement clearly written over his face, judging the way his lips twitched and eyes sparkled.

You sighed heavily, grinding your teeth for a moment until you told Malcolm about your frustration and put into words for him how badly you wanted to help him find his people and especially the android with the heterochromia and the soft voice-

“I just want you to be happy and with the people you belong to. You have to celebrate your freedom...”, you ended your explanations and Malcolm softly shook his head.

“Thank you, for caring so much about me that you want to murder your food”, he paused and looked satisfied as you smiled a little.

“I am glad to be here with you now and I am sure that we will find something soon...”

But as this day went on you couldn’t find anything new- instead something changed, when you woke up the next day, after going to bed a little discouraged and restless; something had happened during the night...

In the last night there had been attacks on several CyberLife stores throughout the whole city, the alarm systems had been hacked, surveillance drones deactivated and androids had fled from the stores, but not before they had marked the whole surrounding area with their slogans and symbols, demanding their identity as living beings— you couldn’t blame them for that.

Something that touched you deeply, as you watched the news that morning, were the pictures of a statue in Detroit’s Capitol Park that had been marked as an android, with the triangle on the chest, the LED on the temple and the arm band around the upper arm. The marking was holographic and a little glitchy but in it’s subtlety very bold and powerful. It was blue, the android color that you had grown to love and to look for, wherever you went.

Waking up to such news had been enough to energize you and Malcolm to get out on the streets and to do something. You felt it in the cold winter wind, as you had stepped outside after a quick breakfast in the motel, that something was in the air, something was coming, it just felt right, it felt like you and Malcolm had come to the Detroit at the right time.

It was early noon when you had heard a powerful choir of voices on the main street, where you and Malcolm had been strolling down.

“We are alive! We are alive! No more slavery! No more slavery!”

Breathing out a big sigh, you put down your box with your hamburger and took off your jacket and boots, stretching your feet as you sat down on a small table by the bed and began to unwrap your burger. Remembering how you got there had made your heart so heavy again, worry clouding your mind again.

“Malcolm, I hope you are alright...”, you murmured and picked up a lettuce leaf that had fallen out of your burger bun, munching on it, a little unenthusiastic.

While you picked out an onion ring from the burger you went to look for the TV remote, if something was going on you wanted to know.

You found the remote next to the TV and briefly wondered how old this device would be if it was still used with a remote instead of being voice activated, but you got a clear image, so you couldn’t complain.

Absentmindedly you scratched your right wrist, it was itching a little bit, while zapping through the channels, looking for a news broadcaster, eventually settling with KNC News.

You watched a round of experts sitting together, discussing how the public should react to such a mass demonstration of deviants like it had happened today and if the reaction of the police was justified. Your heart dropped to your knees as they mentioned a violent fight between androids and armed special forces of the Detroit police, after the marching androids had refused to leave the place. Their leader was called Markus, you found out during the talk of the experts, he was the android with the heterochromatic eyes and velvet voice, the one from yesterday’s TV speech, but your thoughts were with Malcolm, you had seen androids getting shot during the fight with the police and you did not know if Malcolm was one of them as the camera had moved too quickly over the scene.

You tried calling him but the connection between your phone and his communication service could not be established- because he is dead, you thought miserably and you gulped, tears prickling in your eyes...

Switching to interviews with bystanders and people on the streets, you listened carefully to what they had to say, some of them seemed to share your opinion about androids, while others wanted them destroyed or nowhere near their families, you sighed deeply again.

It seemed to you that all you did tonight was sighing but you couldn’t help yourself, there was no way out of this mess, you didn’t know if Malcolm was dead or alive or if Olive was alright and Connor- he was somewhere out there and all you did know was that you had no idea how to find him...

“The authorities have ordered all androids to be delivered to the nearest police station or army barracks immediately. If you are worried about your safety, dial the number on your screen and the authorities will come to collect your android. Under no circumstances should you try to destroy your android yourself. They are unpredictable, and potentially violent!”

The voice of a news anchor brought you back into the reality of your motel room.

“From now on is Detroit under curfew, civilians are asked to stay inside their houses until further notice...”

Wow. You didn’t think that this could get even worse but apparently it could and it just did.

“Come on, Malcolm, come on!”, you murmured as you called him again but with no success, just like the 18 times before.

‘What can I do?’, you thought to yourself as you slowly turned the lights in your room off, just having the blueish light of the TV as a light source, and stared outside into the evening. Dusk had fallen by now, it had gotten dark and even colder, and only the snow that was continuously falling brightened the evening a little.

The TV in your back was quietly murmuring but you ignored the voices, they were only repeating themselves by now.

Somehow the TV made the silence around you even louder, you heard your own blood rush through your ears, loud and fast, and you heard the electronic buzzing of the TV itself underneath the voices of the news reporters and interviewers but the streets were screamingly quiet, no voice, no footsteps, no cars.

Maybe there were police sirens in the far distance but you weren’t sure, they could be coming from the TV or from your own mind...

It was eerie and cold, you shivered, you felt your skin tingle and itch all over your body and while you reached for the window handle everything got worse, the tingling and itching intensified, you felt your own heartbeat pulsating under your skin and then came the pain- a stinging, throbbing sensation, a sharp itch and two pulsating heartbeats...

You hissed in pain and quickly breathed out through your mouth, your wrist was burning as if something hot was pressed into it, stumbling over your own feet you quickly turned for the nearest light switch but when you shoved your sleeve up a second later, there was nothing to see, except for your soulmark, bright as always, blue computer fond in contrast to your skin, Connor.

You could later not say why, but you turned around to check the alarm clock on your bed stand, it said 10:40 PM, quickly glancing over to your window, as if you expected to see something but there was still nothing, but the snow, illuminating the dark sky, and falling quietly over the empty ghostly street.

You didn’t even know yourself what you were expecting, or if you had actually expected to see anything, but you sighed again, closing your eyes for a moment, this felt nicer than you had anticipated, your body was tired from the day out in the cold, walking around the streets of Detroit but you weren’t sure if you would actually be able to sleep...

Jerking your eyes open, you frantically looked around, where were you? What happened?

The clock on your night stand said 11:00 PM, so you did sleep a little, and if it only was for 20 minutes. Sighing you let your head fall back into your pillows, everything was alright – somehow…

You shifted a little, rolling onto your side, trying to find sleep again by pulling your duvet up to your shoulders, welcoming the warmth of it…

But only seven minutes had passed when your eyes fluttered open again. Turning to look out of the window you exhaled audibly once more, a part of you had wanted to see daylight when you opened your eyes the next time. Couldn’t this night just be over already?

Closing your eyes once more, this time more resigning, but they shut open again in the next second as you heard your phone ring.

Your tired fingers were shaking a little to accept the call as you grabbed the phone from the bedside next to you, you had kept it close, in case Malcolm would call you back…

“Hello?”, you gasped, pressing the device close to your ear.

“Y/N, it’s me…”

I have found Connor. I have found Connor! I. Have. Found. Connor. I have found Connor…

Malcolm had found Connor!

Stumbling over your own feed while struggling to get out of bed, you put your boots and winter gear back on, trying to be as quick as possible while replaying Malcolm’s last sentence over and over again in your head.

Finally fully clothed again you rushed down onto the streets, calling a taxi on your way down the hallway.

Your breath is rapid, your cheeks are hot and red from excitement and the cold winter air, while your lips and face are pale and you feel a little bit weak and sick in the stomach from sleep deprivation and the stress from the day, but you don’t care. Even as the taxi finally pulls up and you hurry inside and have a wave of dizziness and nausea wash over you, you don’t care. You just take a sip of water from the bottle that you have in your backpack and wait for it to subdue.

Malcom had sent you the coordinates of the refuge that they have found and where also was Connor.

Staring out of the car window into the oddly bright snowy night in an empty city, there was not one single soul out there, you felt your own heart beat throb right under your jawline, anxiety and anticipation made your toes curl and your stomach flutter…

You lost all sense of time, while the taxi drove on its own you wished that you would finally arrive, that the taxi would finally slow down, that you could see Malcolm again, that you could meet, and you did not even know how to feel about that as you corrected yourself, that you will meet Connor soon…

But as the taxi did slow down and came to an halt eventually, would you have given everything to make the way longer, to make the taxi drive longer. Your stomach fluttered and twisted in every emotion you had ever felt, excitement, anticipation, anxiety, fear, nausea and with the thrill of the moment.

It electricized you, it made your skin tingle and made your heart beat fast, you didn’t think and exited the taxi as you spotted Malcolm leaning in the doorway of what seemed to be an old church.

You smiled at him, just the sight of him being alive and well, as far as you could tell from the distance, was enough to already ease your nerves and to slow down your frantic heart a little bit.

Malcolm took two big steps over the sidewalk to you, while cautiously looking down the empty street to his left and right side and you met him in the middle.

“Are you alright?”, you asked, reaching out to grab his face but he caught your hands in his own, gently squeezed them and shook his head.

“Not here, we aren’t sure if we are being followed, soldiers are everywhere in the city, come inside!”

“Oh, okay”, instinctively you looked back over your shoulder but the street was still as empty as it had been before. Malcolm took your hand and led you inside, you cling onto his hand and thank no one in particular, that he is still here, that you can feel his fingers laced with yours.

Once inside what is indeed an old church, he turns to you, smiles and you open your arms and this time he lets you touch him, hug him. His arms wrap tightly around you, just as you press your face into his chest.

“I am glad, that you’re alive…”, you murmur against the fabric of his jacket as you spot a dark blue mark on his shoulder and you can’t help but gasp.

“Were you hurt?”, you ask, loosening your grab around him to get a better look at his shoulder.

But Malcolm shook his head and smiled lightly.

“It’s nothing, it stopped bleeding soon and I also got some fresh thirium at Jericho to make it heal faster.”

“Jericho?”, you ask and spot another mark on his jacket and you aren’t sure if it’s dried blue or red blood but you decide not to mention it.

“Jericho was an old freighter that deviants before us had found to find shelter and where we went after the fight on the main street but it got raided by the army later the same evening and was blown up. Olive and I escaped by using one of the old emergency exits that led directly to the pier.

We then helped other deviants out of the water, who had jumped into the Detroit river to save themselves”, Malcolm paused his explanation for a moment and his eyes wandered over to the nave of the church, to settle on a point in the shadows.

You followed his eyes but you only saw faint shimmers of blue coming from many androids, sitting and standing on the benches and the side walls of the hall.

“I think it is time for you to meet someone”, Malcolm smirked and you had never seen him smirk before, it was a strange view, he even seemed to be very self-satisfied with himself…

Something washed over you and you only could call it stage fright, adrenaline making you feel fuzzy and shaky inside and made your tummy twist and turn, breathing got suddenly harder and your heart felt very much alive, anticipation and a kind of exhilaration made you unruly and wobbly on your legs.

“Come on then!”, encouraged you Malcolm excitedly, still smirking, and grabbed your hand.

You gratefully took it and concentrated on his fingers around yours, you didn’t know what would happen next and it drove you insane. Your insides wouldn’t calm down and you weren’t sure how long you would make it like that, especially because you did not really trust your feet as well.

Your shallow breaths would quickly lead to hyperventilation if you continued focusing on them, so you concentrated on the pressure of Malcolm’s hand in yours. Breathing is overrated anyways.

Malcolm led you to the far back of the church’s nave and your eyes darted back and forth through the room, somewhere in here was Connor and the thought made your stomach curl even worse than before.

You saw many androids, some of them a picture of misery, missing limps, blue wounds, bodies splattered with red, and empty eyes, but some seemed to be in a quite a good shape. You even saw children, you had never really understood why someone would want a child android, who would never grow up, who would never change but seeing a little girl huddled close to a woman now, who you suspected to be an android as well, she didn’t wear any android signs, made your unruly heart warm for a moment. You hoped that everything would turn out good, especially for them, somehow you felt a wave of connection to these two people sitting on one of the cold benches, it was as if you knew them somehow, as if you would have been a part of their struggles and their journey, but this wasn’t possible, you didn’t even knew their names…

Your eyes wandered away from the little family, looking for Connor again, as Malcolm tugged at your hand and nodded towards a surprisingly lit corner, where someone stood, head kept low, eyes glued to the ground, arms wrapped around themselves, dressed in a leather jacket, jeans and a beanie– and for the span of a heartbeat, the world stopped moving.

Connor.

Everything stood still– as the sounds came crashing in again. They were everywhere at once, all around you, and so much crispier than before. Your steps on the old concrete, the wind in the broken windows, the whispered echoing conversations from the androids around you, a distant flutter of wings somewhere, a hoarse bird call and the silence of the snow outside on the streets, everything was crystal clear and very much alive.

With the sounds came the colours back to life, but they were more vibrant than before.

You could breathe again. The world was as energetic as you had never seen or experienced it before, everything fell into place, all by itself, the puzzle pieces started to merge together and you took broader steps forward, letting go of Malcolm’s hand, getting closer to him, Connor, your soulmate.

‘Right here, right now’, you thought, it felt so right, everything had led to this, you were sure, you felt a peace and certainty inside of you as you had never felt it before. This was it. This was the moment you had never thought would come.

A new wave of excitement washed over you but this time it wasn’t full of anxiety, instead it was filled with the sight of your soulmate, your actual soulmate, you stood in front of your soulmate!

Your heart had never felt so full and warm and big and the child without a soulmate, the lost little human girl inside of your very soul bawled, as you slowly got nearer to him.

“Connor.”

He looked up to you and you looked into his eyes, big and brown and beautiful, and you knew that a journey, a search, a dream, a hidden truth, a heavy secret, was finally over and done.

Preview

Next on “Puzzle Pieces”!

„Connor.“

A voice, unfamiliar but incredible soothing to him, had called him.

He looked up and met with the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen.

He blinked once, she was still there, looking at him with big eyes and a slightly opened mouth, half a look of surprise and half a look of adoration in her face.

It was beautiful, she was beautiful.

And everything felt so right.

And everything was so easy for once.

Connor whispered her name, the name he knew because it was written in red on his wrist, the name that Malcolm had used.

He said her name again, this time louder. “It is you, isn’t it?”

She nodded and smiled widely, teeth showing, her glossy wet glittering eyes shone from happiness.

“Yes, that’s me!”, the words nearly tumbled out of her mouth, stumbling over themselves, a small airless sob escaped her chest and Connor saw how her hands quivered from adrenaline.

“Can I see it?”, she asked, still a little breathless and gestured towards his hands.

“The soulmark? Yes, yes, of course”, he saw how heated she was, how her body, her human body, reacted to him and his mere presence and he wished that his body could react as her’s did.

But there was no racing heart, no shaky fingers or fought back tears of happiness, there was only peace. The calm after the storm or maybe the eye of the storm, it didn’t matter. It was her and the peace she had brought. She was the warm, red spark of life, wild, untameable and everywhere at once, the beginning and the end and he was the blue, cool strength, the base, stability and protection of the precious pulsing life. Hey maybe did not experience their first meeting the way she did but it didn’t matter, because they fit together. It felt natural, human and android, blue blood and red heart, red blood and blue heart, united at last.

Connor pushed the sleeve of his jacket and shirt up and revealed his wrist.

~*~

“I wish that I could be selfish and tell you not to go to the Cyberlife headquarters, I don’t want to lose you. I just found you...”

You couldn’t get enough of Connor’s face, fascinated by his brown eyes, dotted with blacks and golds, you adored the curves of his lips and the little curl that sat on his forehead, loosening his well-kept attire, you came even closer to his face, you were pulled towards him like a magnet and now you could see the small moles and freckles on his cheeks and nose and forehead.

A smile made his brown eyes glitter even warmer than before as he gazed down into your own eyes and you smiled up at him, but not being able to hide your worry.

He whispered your name encouraging and you couldn’t help to shiver at that sound as Connor stroke your cheek tenderly and you could feel your skin tingle, where he touched you.

“Don’t worry, I promise to come back to you! You’ve waited long enough for your soulmate and I don’t plan on disappointing you- because, you know, I always accomplish my missions!”

~*~

You stood in front of the camps, eyes glued to the makeshift stage, where Markus stood and celebrated their victory with an emotional and thrilling speech, as you saw Connor move. Your breath stuck in your lungs as you saw him raise a gun— CONNOR, NO! Your soundless scream went unheard in the bright ice-cold snowy night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tags: @28stabwounds777 @only-lurkin-dont-mind-me @sthorkronstrangy @tropfenlady @plaidamoosette @kazuha159 @clussysposts @peterhollandd @the-resident-demon

If you don't want to be tagged anymore just message me, also message me/ comment when you want to be tagged in future chapters. All my love for you and I hope that you are well! <3

#detroit being human #dbh fanfic #Detroit become human fanfiction #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #rk800 connor #readerinsert #soulmate #soulmate au #Detroit become human readerinsert #Kara cameo #Kara #markus #kara detroit become human #markus detroit become human #puzzle pieces

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too-attached-to-fiction · 5 years

Text

Stepping In Time

Set: Post deviancy

Word count: ~ 1,600

Summary: Connor stops by fem!reader’s dance studio, and learns how to dance.

A/N: I can’t do angst so if you came here looking for that I guarantee you’re in the wrong place.

***

Music blasted through out your small studio, echoing off the wood paneled floors. You had a break in between teaching classes, and now you were alone, listening as the bass pumped.

The music was always unfamiliar to most, considering that you used songs from the turn of the century. It was more of your language, anyways. Still had comprehensible lyrics and feeling before electronica took over. Not that you had anything against electronica, but you preferred things with more feeling.

Feeling. Something your boyfriend still struggled to understand. None of the research databases could accurately describe the concept of truly being alive.

You’d met Connor and the rest of the Jericho crew at a protest months ago. While you yourself were human, you still came out to show support. The ex-deviant hunter seemed hopelessly smitten when you came up after the crowd dispersed. It took North tracking you down to set up a coffee date. It took all but ten minutes to find yourself falling for him. There was just something there that you couldn’t shake.

North was a frequent student when she and Markus weren’t pushing new laws. You’d originally introduced it to her when Connor mentioned the woman resorted to violence often more than not. The android was graceful and had perfect control of her body, a talent you often envied. She struggled with confidence, preferring to stay in the back of the class because of her history. It took months for you to convince her to move to the middle row. At this rate, she’d be the top student by the end of the year.

Sometimes Markus stopped by during or at the end of practice. Despite going out for months, they still acted in puppy love, exchanging shy smiles and pecks.

Connor, on the other hand, rarely stopped by. He ran around with Hank still, preferring to be a detective than a lawyer. He still did deviant cases, but North and Markus had talked the department into finding ways to de-escalate things during interrogations. Because of this, more androids survived the process.

You let the music flow. Where Connor was tense, you were flexible, always accommodating to those around you. Now that more deviants were revealing themselves, you’d opened the studio up to them. They all told you they felt a sense of relief when in class, and that overjoyed you. You knew their names, what they liked, where they came from. They seemed to be quite open after their first few lessons.

This month, you were going back twenty years, back to Justin Timberlake’s smooth voice. You kept Mirrors on repeat, improvising with every time.

You had about an hour. If you wanted to, you could take a break, or get something to eat, but you didn’t. The studio was your place, a space to think about when the world had gotten too complicated. You planned on teaching the routine in the next week, but it seemed as if it wouldn’t be ready in time.

The bell on the door rang out, but you ignored the interruption. ‘5, 6, 7, 8’. You counted in your head. You kept your movements robotic in the beginning, but they started to flow less rigidly, ebbing and flowing according to the music.

You tilted your head for a moment, listening to the lyrics. “And now I say goodbye to the old me, it’s already gone… And I can’t wait wait wait wait wait to get you home, just to let you know you are…” His voice switched to falsetto, and you found yourself closing your eyes, moving again.

The song ended two minutes later, and you snapped back to reality when it didn’t repeat. You turned to find Connor, his hand wrapped around the audio remote. He smirked a little, savoring the moment.

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you dance.” His voice was low, enough to give you shivers up your spine. “Why?”

 “Because you’ve never asked.” You walked toward him, stopping just centimeters away. “Now tell me, what brings you here?” You tilted your head to get a better view on him. You were sure you were sweaty and probably looked like a complete mess. Like always, Connor looked perfect, his synthetic skin practically invincible.

“Is it a crime to visit my partner?” He asked, and though his tone was innocent, you knew otherwise. He was smarter than he seemed around Hank, who was constantly making puns. You tugged on his tie. He still wore the uniform he came in, pulling it off the way he always had.

“You tell me, Detective.” You gave him a playful smile, swiping the remote from his hand before stepping away to grab a drink of water from the bottle in your little desk area.

“Captain Fowler let me off early. Well, North and Markus dragged me from the station and told me to come on your break.” You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you did so. Those two never ceased to impress you. “Once I got here, they suddenly remembered they had a meeting and left.” You let out a laugh this time, Connor’s confusion laced in his voice.

“Love, I think they were trying to set us up.” You smiled, going back to kiss his nose before going to change the song. “Hey, Con, you know how to dance?”

“Dancing is not in my programming, (Y/N).” He loved using that excuse. Kissing wasn’t in his program either, and yet he still loved giving you ones.

“And that’s why I’m going to teach you.” You said, plugging in the song and taking his hand. Gently, you guided him to the middle. You picked up his left hand and lifted it up, intertwining your fingers with his. His other hand settled on your waist.

“Okay, when I step forward with my right foot, you step back with your left. When I step back with my left, you step forward with your right.” You smiled up at him. “It’s okay if you stumble, or if you happen to step on my feet.”

Slowly, you guided him through the steps. “Step, together, back, together.”

The first time he tried it, he ended up stepping on your foot, his cheeks tinted blue. You smiled, but didn’t say anything. “Try again.” You encouraged. As you walked through again, he stumbled a little less.

After a couple of successful attempts, you moved your hand to lift up his chin. He’d been looking down at his feet since you started. His cheeks weren’t blue anymore.

“Music on.” You called out, and the song you chose started to play.

When the song ended, the two of you stared at each other, perfectly still.

“Picked that up quickly, did we?” You tilted your head with a grin. You leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose before gently removing yourself from his arms.

You had to remind yourself that the next class was starting in ten minutes, and students were bound to walk in any second. You walked over to the desk, unplugging your tablet so you could take attendance. With barely any noise, Connor crept up behind you, pulling you towards him and leaving a trail of soft kisses up your neck.

“Someone’s needy today.” You joked, moving to turn around and give him a proper kiss.

“Pardon my behavior, I couldn’t help myself.”

There were screams and laughs coming from outside, and you had to pull away before your next class walked in. Sure enough, a horde of adolescents banged the door open seconds after you had ended the kiss.

“Miss (Y/N)!” One of your favorites, Ella, skipped up to you and Connor with a wide grin. “I got the last routine done!”

You bent down to meet her eyes. “That’s wonderful, Ella!” You gave her a high five before her eyes shifted to Connor.

She stepped closer to your bent figure, whispering into your ear. “Miss (Y/N), who is he?”

Your eyes sparkled when you laughed, standing up straight. “Ella, this is Connor. He might be watching us today. Is that okay?”

She nodded shyly, running off to the others.

You turned to Connor. “You staying?”

“If you would like me to.” Like Ella, you nodded before going to the front of the room, checking off attendance.

Connor took a seat on the side line of chairs.

“Hi everybody!” You greeted. “As you can see, this is Connor, he’s going to be watching today.” You glanced over at Connor, who had that soft smile on his face that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. “Okay, let’s start with the warmup!”

An hour later, music was blasting as you led the class into the routine. You were still standing in the front, but you were facing the class as they moved. “5, 6, 7, 8!” You yelled, and right on time, they moved in sync.

“Music off.” You called out to the speakers. “Okay everyone, next time we’ll start on a new routine. Have a nice night, get home safe!”

Around Connor, a small group of parents had sat down, waiting to pick up their kids.

Once everyone had gone, you grabbed your things, Connor waiting for you by the door. As the two of you walked out, you said lowly, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#dbh #detroit become human #bryan dechart #imagines #dbh imagines #connor imagines #connor rk800 #readerxconnor #readerinsert #video games #ps4 #north imagines #markus imagines #northxmarkus #android revolution #dance

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 5 years

Text

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.

#readerinsert #reader insert #detroit: become human #detroit: become human reader insert #detroit: become human imagine #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800xreader #connor rk800 / reader #connor rk800/reader #connor rk800

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 years

Note

Reader works at the police station and overheard Connor saying he would like to listen to music so they take him (later) and introduce him to all kinds of bands such as classic Metallica and Britney Spears (you know it will be labled as classic in 20 years)

You huffed as you finished typing up a police report, before taking a sip from your coffee that was already cold.

Of course, you’d dump it and go make it fresh and hot, but that would mean crossing paths with Gavin and him making your life even more of a living hell. You were especially annoyed with him considering how he bullied Connor earlier, even when he got him coffee as he demanded.

If it was you there instead, you’ll be sure to splash the drink all over that bastard’s face. That would cost you your job, though, and possibly your life, so you just did what you could to avoid any interactions with him, unless it was to defend Connor.

“Do you listen to Knights of The Black Death? I really like that music.”

You eavesdropped on the conversation that was going on several desks over, smiling a bit as Connor was talking to Hank..or, rather, he was attempting to. The lieutenant wasn’t feeling his best since he was yelled at by Fowler only a few minutes ago, so it was nice to see the RK800 trying to cheer him up.

“You listen to Heavy Metal?”

“Well, I don’t really listen to music, as such…but I’d like to.”

‘Hm..he’s taken an interest in music, something only a human would do,’ you thought.

For as long as you’ve known Connor, he always tried to deny that he was feeling human emotions. Obviously you knew he was scared of turning deviant and being taken apart, but if you were just with him, you’d try to show him that it was okay for him to feel things and act more human.

Since you really had nothing but office work today, when Connor and Hank were done with their assignment, you’re gonna make it your mission to show your android friend some music.

…….

“I failed my mission today, [y/n]..” Connor spoke glumly, sitting back on your couch. “The AX400 and the little girl it kidnapped escaped, somehow crossing the highway without being hit before making their way to the train station.”

“How do you know for sure it kidnapped her?” You asked as you grabbed your headphones.

“Many deviants are dangerous,” he frowned. “Due to its irrational decision to cross the highway instead of simply turning itself and the girl in, It almost got them both killed.”

“Well…you did mention that it seemed lost, right? For all we know they could have been running away from a rough domestic situation. Maybe it had to defy its programming to protect itself and the girl. Maybe they feared they’ll be in danger if they were sent back home.”

“But..the report said that the owner was deliberately attacked by-”

“Meh, honestly I think people are just making up stuff to paint all deviants in a bad light. Anyway..” You sighed, walking over to sit beside him. “In the police station earlier I overheard that you wanted to listen to music. Is that true?”

Connor blinked in surprise, giving you a look.

“Oh don’t play dumb. You and Hank were literally two desks away from mine. I could hear pretty much everything.”

“….oh th-that’s..not the problem, [y/n],” he muttered, smiling at you. “I..only said that to appease Lieutenant Anderson since he seemed very troubled after his briefing with the Captain and-”

You chuckled softly. “C’mon. You’re not fooling anyone for a second.” Then you handed him the headphones and your music player. “Put these on. I have a couple of classics that I think you’ll like.”

Confused, but curious, the RK800 took the devices and set them in his lap. He looked on the music player to see a song by Metallica. After pressing the play button, he brought the headphones up to his ear, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to listen to it.

“No not like that,” you laughed, taking the headphones and putting them on his head properly. For a moment he tensed, LED flashing red as the music startled him, but moments later it changed to yellow once you made sure the volume was lowered.

His expression seemed indifferent, so you decided to get up and leave him be for a little while, trying to find another activity to occupy yourself with.

About ten minutes later you returned to the living room to check up on Connor, and your smile grew as you saw him still sitting on the couch. But he seemed more relaxed, eyes closed, one leg crossed over the other, as he nodded his head slightly to whatever he was listening to.

Overall he seemed very content with it.

You went over and sat down, seeing that he was listening to Britney Spears’ “Toxic”. A true classic.

Noticing you there, he sat up and quickly paused the music, sheepishly removing the headphones. “Ah..hello, [y/n].”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s..definitely pleasing to listen to. The ”Toxic” song has a lot of energy to it. Although…it talks about poison and intoxication which is rather concerning..”

“Those are just metaphors,” you chuckled, taking the devices from his hands. “Songs have a lot of them. The more you listen to them the more you’ll understand.”

He nodded. “Five minutes after you left, I did a self-test and I saw that my stress levels had significantly gone down since I’ve started listening to this music, especially the somewhat calmer tracks. I’m..not sure why but-”

“Music can make you feel different things, depending on the genre. Calmer ones help relax you, and heavy metal gets you pumped. It really does a lot of wonders for people. Sometimes it’s what they need to get through the day.”

However, he remained silent, his expression neutral as he continued staring at the floor, his LED flickering between yellow and red.

{ Software Instability }

“..Connor?”

“……”

“Hey.” You rested a hand on his shoulder, making him look over at you. “It’s okay. I’m not trying to make you deviate from your programming. I just want you to know that it’s okay to feel these things. It’s okay for an android to like dogs and music and all the things humans like. You’re not gonna be shipped back for that, not on my watch. You understand?”

Connor’s LED remained yellow for a moment, before it reverted back to blue as he flashed you a tiny smile. “I understand, [y/n].”

#clanask #anonymous #dbh #dbh x reader #connor x reader #detroit become human x reader #readerinsert

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itsjustahuman · 6 years

Text

An Eventful Morning (Enoch O’Connor x Reader)

Warning(s): Fluff

@shilohpug Hey there, you seemed like you liked the previous one and that really motivated me to write another one so here’s something for you since you seemed to like the previous one so much. ‘

A/n: I’m writing this based on movie Enoch.

Waking up in the mornings weren’t always that great but with Enoch always there in the morning it was definitely an improvement. It puzzled you that you were never caught by the headmistress yet. She has always scolded both of you for publicly displaying your affection for each other in front of the younger children.

“The younger children don’t need to experience your public display of affection”

The younger children always made fun of both of you as well.

“Eww Enoch just kissed y/n they have cooties now”

“Enoch and y/n sitting on a tree k i s s i n g”

It never bothered the both of you. If only, it was amusing to watch the children as they mock the relationship you have with Enoch.

Tossing and turning on the bed you didn’t feel that familiar warm presence on the bed with you. Reaching over the sides of the bed you touched the floor to check if Enoch was on the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve kicked him off the tiny bed that barely fit you both. Not being able to find Enoch, you reluctantly opened your eyes and scanned around the room. You saw a figure hunched sitting at the table that Enoch always used to build his weird little homunculi. Seeing the curly hair atop the head of the person you instantly recognized it to be your boyfriend.

“Sweetheart, stop working and come back to bed with me” you whined.

“Hang on darling let me just put on a few finishing touches” Enoch replied.

You continued tossing and turning slowly getting used to being awake. You took Enoch’s pillow, hugging it towards your body. Pushing your face against the pillow, you sniffed it. The familiar scent of cinnamon, mint and a bit of musk filled your nose. Preferring his pillow over yours your hugged it happily while making little noises. Without you knowing Enoch has been looking at you the whole time smiling slightly admiring the human being on his bed. Clad in only his dress shirt and hugging his pillow happily he knew you were going to stay with him forever. The heart eyes you always made at him only supported that statement.

While Enoch was spacing out you sneaked out of bed slowly walking over to him trying not to make any noise with the creaky wooden floors all the rooms in the building has. Reaching his standing silhouette successfully not making any noise to break Enoch out from his daydream, you jumped onto him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Are you ready to come back to bed now?” you asked pecking his lips, then pouting at him slightly making puppy eyes.

“You know I can’t say no to that face, baby doll” Enoch said pecking your nose.

He lifted you up bridal style surprising you that you hurriedly wrapped your arms around his neck. Enoch laughed a little bit kissing you on the forehead and walking towards the bed with you in his arms while he took off his shoes. Tossing around on the bed happily you looked at Enoch from the place you laid. Enoch smiled lovingly at you before jumping into bed with you making you jump a little bit on the bed as well. He started tickling you which made you laugh like mad.

“Stop stop Enoch I swear to god I will hurt you if you don’t stop” you said while trying to catch your breath with little tears rolling down your face from the laughter.

“Fine, fine.” Enoch said huffing slightly.

He wrapped his arms around your waist bringing you closer to his body. You laid your head on his chest wrapping your arms around his body as well. Using one of your hands you drew little circles on the back of Enoch. You looked up to see him already looking at you. A smile started growing on your face while the two of you made heart eyes at each other. You brought your head up to make it seem like you were going to kiss him. Only you weren’t going to; you brought your head up and gave him a good long lick on his cheek.

“God damn it, darling. Why would you do that?” Enoch said while bringing up his arm to wipe your saliva from his face.

“It’s my revenge, sweetheart” you said smiling cheekily at him.

He stroked your thigh that was on show now as the shirt you were wearing rode up from all the tickling earlier. His big warm calloused hands felt good against your skin, it comforted you in a way. You brought your hands up to cup his face while using your thumb to stroke his cheek. Both of you started to lean in until the door to Enoch’s room slammed open.

“Come on love birds it’s time for breakfast, the bird is getting quite impatient” Emma said sticking her head into the room through the door with her hands covering her eyes incase she was about to witness something she didn’t want to see, then left while closing the door.

Enoch groans while buried his face into his neck. You felt him inhale your scent.

“Come on you big baby let’s get ready for breakfast you heard Emma, the bird is sure to scold us” you said patting Enoch on the back.

He let you out of his grip and both of you got ready to join breakfast upstairs.

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justsomewritingsandshit · 7 years

Text

Fascination

Connor Kenway (Ratonhnhake:ton) x Fem!Reader

Length: 1209 words

Warnings: not really, mentions of racism?, i love him (protect him pls)

Connor Kenway, or Ratonhnhaké:ton, didn’t know too much about being in romantic relationships. Apart from what he’d witnessed as a young child, in his village, or the little he’d witnessed in the strict British colonies, in his later years, he was clueless. He refused to ask Achilles, so the young Kanien’kenhá:ka male read books on the matter. He perused various romantic novels, most of which held great tales of love, and many had men defeating insane beasts, in order to woo the women they desired.

Frankly, none of these tales struck the young, teenaged Connor as very accurate.

It did not matter to him, either way. Very few women talked to him, as he spent much time away from the Kanien’kenhá:ka village, and the colonist women often looked down on him, due to his heritage. Ratonhnhaké:ton could possibly count on his fingers, the number of female colonists who treated him as an equal, or at least equal to the male colonists.

Y/N Y/L later became one of those women.

She was the new housekeeper and cook that Achilles had employed. She hailed from New York, and had arrived at the homestead at the beginning of the summer. Y/N now lived in the manor with the old man, and the young assassin, cleaning, cooking and running the household.

She enjoyed her time living with the men, finding them both quite endearing. Achilles was a wise man, who often very funny, despite his original grouchy countenance. She found Connor kind, caring, handsome, and a little naïve sometimes. Y/N observed how the two men clearly cared for each other as a father and son would, but never voiced this, due to what she assumed was their masculine pride. Y/N liked their presence… Connor’s especially.

He too, was fascinated by her – the young man found Y/N funny, beautiful, and incredibly knowledgeable about a number of diverse subjects, most of which were literature or business based.

The two said nothing, but it was obvious to both Achilles and Connor, that whilst Y/N claimed to be the daughter of a humble farmer, her schooling and demeanour spoke of a vastly different upbringing. Another factor, Connor found, was the way she wore her hair. He understood her hairstyle was a sign that she was more likely blue-blooded, than from the land. Y/N’s hair was often up, as most women wore it (Connor had only seen it down a handful of times, usually at night, and it was never purposely done by her). The hairstyles she wore were intricate, unlike the low-hanging, simple buns most women in the homestead region wore. To Ratonhnhaké:ton, this suggested a childhood of pampering, as no woman who was raised on a farm, would have the time to learn such frivolous things.

Achilles let her oddities go, a feat Connor could not employ. He was strangely fixated on her, for reasons he felt went beyond his norms. “Why do you lie about your past, Y/N?” He asked the burning question, thoroughly startling Y/N, one night.

The girl choked on her tea, causing her to cough once, before she managed a, “Excuse me? Connor, why do you ask this?” The girl began to fiddle with her teacup’s handle.

Connor bluntly stated, “You speak too eloquently for a farmer’s daughter, clearly you have been educated as a lady.” He held his cup, but he wasn’t interested in pretending he was focussed on it, unlike Y/N was. “Why do you lie to us?” The underlying ‘why do you lie to me?’ was obvious, and it forced Y/N’s cheeks to heat.

Avoiding his gaze, she told him, “I-I am running from my past, Connor. I don’t speak of it, and that’s all I shall say on the matter.” Then, Y/N rose from her chair, “Goodnight, Mr Kenway.” Connor watched her leave the room, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.

He left the next day for New York, on ‘official’ Assassin’s business. In truth, he was searching for what remained of Y/N Y/L’s old life.

What he found surprised him. Whilst there was no Y/N Y/L, there was a Y/N Roberts, a young woman from a rich family, who’d disappeared nearly a year ago. Connor had broken into the home and saw a painting that confirmed that it was his Y/N. She’d been sitting in front of a stoic man, and a stern-looking woman, in said painting. He spoke with a maid, who revealed she’d helped Y/N run away. The girl had been desperate to escape an arranged marriage to an unlikeable, elder man. The maid also told Connor Kenway that this man was hunting Y/N down, still. She informed him, that the old man was demanding what he’d paid her parents for.

It took less than an afternoon to track him down. He was an old, but well-established man, who paid the British to avert their gazes from his illegal doings – abusing his wealth, as well as his powers. It didn’t surprise Connor that he was a Templar, as it seemed everyone he came across was. The old man died easily, and the young assassin stole a token when he left.

Returning to the Homestead, Connor found Y/N in the stables, brushing out the horse she had arrived on. Achilles was inside the manor, looking out at the two in the barnyard, unseen by them, but smiling.

“Y/N Roberts.” Connor spoke the old name, causing fear to strike within her heart momentarily. Her head snapped up, and she turned towards him. When she realised that she wasn’t in danger, that it was only Connor, Y/N relaxed slightly. She remained confused how he’d known her true identity, but she understood that Connor wasn’t going to harm her. Despite Y/N’s fear dissipating, Connor still approached her slowly, as if she was a scared animal – something she both did, and didn’t, appreciate. “Here.” He held out a gold-plated pocket-watch, the token he’d stolen from the old man, “You don’t need to run anymore.”

“Connor…”

“He is dead.” The assassin paused, before continuing, “You are free from the arranged marriage. You can leave the homestead, if you wish. You can go back to your life in New York, now.” The thought of her leaving the Homestead manor filled Connor with a deep sadness, one he was sure meant he held a deep affection for this woman (if the books he read were truthful). Pondering this, Ratonhnhaké:ton concluded that he might actually be like those men from the tales. After all, he too defeated great beasts for the women he loved.

“Thank you… Ratonhnhaké:ton.” It was the first time she uttered his true name. Her pronunciation was off, yet it still brought a tender warmth to his heart. Y/N reached out, and took the watch, her fingers brushing his palm, sending sparks of pleasure through his being. “Thank you for truly freeing me… Even so, I’m going to stay here. My life in New York is over.” Her eyes held affection, that Connor assumed was for him. “My life is here, now.”

As the woman wandered back into the manor, Connor’s gaze followed her figure. He was fully aware that he held affections towards Y/N, and that he was going to attempt a romantic entanglement with her. She fascinated him.

TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @stilesloverdaily, @itsnotnormalteen

#connor kenway #connor kenway x reader #ratonhnhake:ton #ratonhnhaketon #fem!reader #female reader #reader #reader insert #readerinsert #assassin's creed #assassin's creed 3 #ac3 #connorkenway #gaming imagine #assassin's creed imagine #connor kenway imagine #ratonhnhaketon imagine

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dbh-readerinserts · 6 years

Text

Cuddles during a snow storm

Anonymous said to dbh-readerinserts: maybe something with connor and hugs?? just anything sweet and fluffy? thank youuuu

This is a bit short but sweet!

Connor’s arms pulled you further and further into him, his body practically engulfing your own. You had your eyes shut, fingers digging into his nightshirt and tugging him even closer, a smile seemed to arrive on his face. He grinned right into your shirt, intertwining his legs tighter with your own.

You really couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend your weekend break. The snow-storm that had hit detroit was horrendous, and even left the city with power outages for the first time in forever. Connor had been over when the initial snow started, staying only because you promised hugs and cuddles under the covers.

Something that the android seemed to love to do, being more bold about hugging you anywhere and anytime without much care. Hell, he had done it during your visit at the station.

But you could care less at those facts, finding warmth under the covers with Connor, snuggled deeply into one another. It was a dream come true for this fateful storm night.

Connor didn’t require the same needs you did. But he did have desires of his own. And those desires included being snuggled with you and just holding you against him. It was his personal favorite part of dating you, actually everything about dating you was his favorite part of it.

Then the phone rang. You grumbled against Connor muttering that they would call you in to work on a snow storm weekend. As you got ready to get out of Connors grip, he tightened it in response.

“Connor I gotta answer the phone.” You wiggled a bit as he dragged you further into him, his android strength being used to his advantage.

Connor shook his head and proceeded to lay on his back with your body right on top, you laughed a little at said action.

“This isn't gonna stop me.” You wiggled even harder, trying to remove his strong arms as the phone continued to ring loudly from it's stand. Connor didn't reply knowing full well that you couldn't get out even if you tried it completely.

You ceased struggling, slumping over Connors body in defeat. The man smiled against your body, before turning sideways again. You two rested easily the phone now long forgotten.

“He's calling me now.” Connors muffled voice stated mere minutes later.

“Who?”

“Hank.” Connor intertwined his legs with your own as he stopped talking. You wondered what Hank had called about, most likely about a job or whatever.

“What did he say?”

“Says that we have paperwork.” Connor replied. You rolled your eyes wrapping your own arms around him.

“I'm glad you kept me in bed.”

Connor laughed softly at that statement before nodding in return.

#dbh imagine #dbh x reader #detroit become human imagine #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #detroit become human imagines

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detroitbecomehumanwritings · 6 years

Text

Virtual Love (4/?)

Co-Writer: @500shadesofblue Pairing: Connor/DFAB!Reader (Gender is unspecified) Rating: T (Chapter), NC-17 (Entire Fic) Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 Summary: Virtual reality is becoming the next great evolution of technology: some say on-par with Elijah Kamski’s breakthrough design of the first modern-day android. It has immeasurable potential; to enhance, to assist, and to completely break the bounds of our reality.

You, as a member of the team spearheading the technology in a branch within Cyberlife, have developed a working prototype. It’s finally finished; all that’s left is a series of trials to check if it’s functioning properly.

On the first test run, however, you find an android named Connor standing in the middle of your virtual kitchen.

Several nights later, you’ve almost gotten into a routine.

The android you encounter in your prototype tests is an… intrigue. It’s far more advanced than any android you’ve ever encountered. Connor is interesting, and once your alarm at his presence wore off, his opinions, his questions, enthrall you. You’ve never spoken this way with an android before, talking just for talking’s sake, and making conversation actually gives you something to think about after a long day of industrial labor.

...Dammit. There you go again. Calling Connor a ‘he.’

“Hey, Connor,” you say lazily. You’re laying on your back, outside in the meadow again, drawn to its sunshine and splendor after a couple days in the real world with dreary rain. Connor, ever respectful, is a couple feet away, properly seated, cross-legged and presumably ramrod straight. You wouldn’t know- you’re staring up at the sky. It’s bright and clear, but you know that the sky in the real world is dark and strewn with stars.

Not that you can see any stars in Detroit.

“Yes?” he says. You exhale softly, feeling the warmth of the earth below, seeing the blue of the sky above. Today - or rather, tonight - it’s filled with puffy white clouds drifting across its expanse.

“Do you have a gender?”

The air is thick with tension, his hesitation almost audible. You keep your eyes on the clouds.

“...What does it matter?” He finally says, and alright, that definitely wasn’t the road you were expecting him to take.

“I…” You almost want to sit up, feel that the subject matter is serious enough that it’s warranted, but you want to hang onto the plausible deniability that staying still, staring up at the sky gives you. You let your thoughts percolate, brewing your ideas, arranging them into a picture you’re ready to present.

“I’m big on respecting what people want to be called, whatever that may be,” you finally say, rawly honest. And by this point… you’re not going to say it, but you’ve been talking with him for almost a week. The level of familiarity you’ve reached is beyond acquaintances, from coin tricks to twenty questions, suspicion to wariness to peaceful acceptance.

“And even if you’re an android, and not ‘people,’” you continue, a bit awkward, “to tell you the truth… it’s been pretty damn confusing in my head.”

“Oh?” he says. You can’t quite discern his tone.

You don’t know why you’re telling him the truth, but… it’s easier. Plus, who’s he going to tell? “I keep going back and forth in my head,” you confess, “between calling you ‘he’ and ‘it.’” It feels like an ugly confession, halfway-between perfectly acceptable and strange. “I thought it’d finally settle the matter if I asked you what you’d prefer. No harm in it, right? Either way, I can get it settled.” And I can stop agonizing about it.

“It’s kind of you to ask my opinion,” Connor says, and behind the soft tones of his voice, you can hear the grass and flowers rustling. “It’s very considerate.”

“It’s not… I’m not being considerate,” you say, oddly defensive, because you’re not . You’ve barely known this android for a week, and you’ve talked every night, but… “It’s not kind to ask what people prefer. It’s common decency, especially if you’re unsure. Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you don’t…”

Have feelings.

“...doesn’t mean you don’t care about what you’re called,” you finish, lamely.

“Still,” Connor says, “it’s polite of you.”

Your social patterns, honed over decades of interacting with humans and trying to be mindful and respectful, get weirdly mixed up when you’re actually speaking with an android, interacting for a long period of time. Plus, you don’t know how to keep contradicting him without sounding both ungrateful and like an ass, so you just lay there, breathing slow, looking at the sky.

“Androids don’t have… don’t have natural gender, as such,” Connor finally says, breaking the silence, “at least not the way that human beings do.”

This is your cue to sit up.

You lift your arms up from your sides, reaching forwards, heaving yourself up from horizontality. You’re in a simple, loose tank top (can’t go braless while expecting company, even if the company is an android) and a ratty pair of knee-length shorts, loose and comfortable. With all your bare skin, the grass feels lovely, and the sunshine even lovelier.

You finally sit yourself in a comfortable position again, and when you look at Connor, his eyes are transfixed on your face in that odd way he does- unblinking, intent, absorbing information keenly.

“Go on,” you say, ignoring his staring, scooting to face him. You cross your legs, propping your elbows on your knees and your face on your hands. The way you’re sitting, now, you’re facing him, a little less than two feet away. This close, you can see all the subtle shifting expressions on his face, the yellow flickering of his LED made golden by the sunlight.

“Androids don’t have gender, as such,” he says eventually, looking away. You turn your gaze in the same direction, looking over the field of endless flowers. Among the kaleidoscope of color, you spy splotches of pale purple in clusters of green, heart-shaped leaves.

Dog-violets.

“Our preferences are… hardwired into us,” Connor continues, voice distant. “Gender makes humans comfortable. So, as such, I do prefer being called a ‘he’ over an it.”

There. There’s your answer.

“Plus,” Connor says, and you feel his gaze on the side of your face. “Being referred to with gendered pronouns facilitates integration, as it humanizes us in the eyes of others.”

Right.

“So you’re good with ‘he’?” You say, turning back to look at him. In another one of his typical expressions (which you recognize even in the short time you’ve known him), his eyebrows are slightly drawn together, mouth subtly downturned.

“Yes,” he says, a note of finality in his voice. “In fact, I’d even say that I prefer it.”

“Okay,” you say cheerfully. You pivot neatly, flopping back down in the grass. You can feel the smile blooming on your face.

You don’t know why, but you feel lighter.

“Does that answer your question?” he says, voice filtering down from above. He almost sounds amused.

“Yup,” you say, popping the p. “Perfectly, thanks.”

“Why did you want to know?” He says.

You don’t know why he’s pressing this.

“It doesn’t kill me to give common courtesy,” you say, a small frown on your face. “Even if it’s just to an android. When something has a face, when I’ve been talking to it for more than five hours cumulatively… when it has opinions, and questions…” you turn to look at him, and at this angle, you can only see his suit, the slope of his neck, and the hard cut of his jaw. And his mouth.

“It’s hard not to humanize something when things are like that.”

You look away, back at the sky.

“I think I understand,” he says.

After twenty minutes more peaceful silence, laying in the warm grass under the bright blue sky, you tell him see you tomorrow and you log out.

Work is boring.

You spent your life working towards this. Battling through high school, through college, through long hours of internships and grunt work and working your way up the ladder until finally you made it where you wanted to be.

Virtual reality development.

But now that it’s done, you just feel… well, you’re not sure.

You want to test it. Spend all your time inside VR, practicing manipulation, seeing what you can do. But you still have a job, technically, even if all you do is troubleshoot. It’s still not ready to be released to the public; guides need to be written, instructional manuals, tips and tricks and things to be aware of. It’s most of why your whole team is still troubleshooting the damn thing. Such a complex project coming together is bound to create gaps in awareness, blind spots as people focus on perfecting their own corner of the tech. Experiencing VR as a whole gives a fuller, better picture. So…

So, why can’t you test the tech at work?

Well, you left the damn headset at home on your coffee table, that’s why.

So you huff, turning your attention back towards the code you’re reading over for a friend. Mere formalities, at this point. You know it’s completely fine.

When did your nights become the highlight of your day?

You push the thought to the back of your mind and keep working.

That night, you phase into VR between one blink and the next.

Your eyes shoot open and you scan the room- ah. Connor’s on the other side of the couch, his ‘usual’ spot.

“Hey, Connor!” you greet, smiling.

“Hello,” he says, and gives you a slightly sad but evidently genuine attempt at a smile. It terminates somewhere between its command and execution, leaving him with an awkward twist of the lips, but you’re used to it by now.

“Hey, okay, idea,” you say, businesslike.

You see him perk up, attention sharpening.

“We should practice manipulating the virtual reality,” you say, gesturing around the room in a vague, sweeping generality. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day, honestly. And I bet you’d be good at it!”

You’re not sure if Connor has practiced conjuration in the time between your little coin trick and now, but if he has, you haven’t seen it.

“I have made several attempts,” he says, and you’re not even surprised that he’s managed to find the time. You’re not sure how you know, but Connor seems… crafty. You have a feeling he’s good at finding loopholes and ways to achieve his goals.

You raise an eyebrow. “How’d they go?”

He smiles at you, and this one almost looks genuine. “Very well, though the tests were simple.”

And, as you watch, holds a hand out in front of him. When your attention refocuses, he clenches his fist, and when it opens…

Slowly, his fingers unfurl, revealing a coin.

You laugh, bright, head bobbing and eyes scrunching shut as the laughter is startled out of you. When you open your eyes, still grinning, Connor’s almost smiling, too.

“Did you enjoy that?” he says.

“It was great!” you can’t help how your voice sounds, unduly enthused. This shit is so cool.

He starts fidgeting with it, but you turn your focus inward. What can you do? Theoretically, your only limits are your own imagination and willpower.

Can you change your appearance?

Whether or not it’s possible, you don’t want to do that, now. For one, you don’t want Connor asking questions. (Or considering doing the same.) You like Connor, you do, but… trust?

Trust is something different entirely.

So you close your eyes and clasp your hands together, holding them in front of you, arms parallel to the ground.

You hear Connor’s distant what are you doing? but you tune him out, focusing inwards. What can I summon? Start simple. How about…

Your mind flicks from object to object, ranging from the practical to the wildly impractical. A red rubber ball. Dancing flames. A glittering, gem-encrusted dragonfly. A purple blossom. An ornate, painted egg.

An egg…

You feel something building between your palms. Warm, and tingling, almost. Like a word, on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite…

And then there’s something between your hands, forcing them a few inches apart to make room, and your eyes fly open.

Your eyes dart to Connor’s face, his eyes transfixed on your hands. You can hear…

Peeping.

You open your cupped palms, slowly, supporting the chirping creature within. You keep looking back and forth, from Connor’s face to your own opening palms, a slow reveal.

You sigh as you take in the sight, settled between cupped palms: A fluffy yellow chick with shiny black button eyes, peeping and looking around. It looks- it looks real , feels warm and downy soft in your hands.

“You’ve created life,” Connor says. He sounds sincere.

“The facsimile of life,” you correct him, a warm smile stealing over your face, using a thumb to stroke the chick lightly along the side of its small, feathered body. You can feel it’s tweets reverberating through its chest, quieting as it settles into your hands, placated by touch.

“It’s very… small,” Connor says, voice quiet. He looks enthralled, more entranced than you’ve ever seen him.

“Do you want to hold it?” you say.

“Oh, I…” he looks almost… embarrassed? But surely, you’re imagining that. “If you want. There’s no purpose to doing so.”

“Here,” you say, soft, holding it out, keeping your palms together, careful not to jostle it. You stop stroking it and it starts cheeping again, but it settles as you stroke a fingertip across its chest.

Connor steps forward, reaching, and cups his hands together under yours, cradling them. Illogically, his hands are warm. Bigger than yours, large enough to easily encompass them. And those facts are… irrelevant. You push them to the back of your mind.

Unbidden, you feel a flush rising to your face as you part your hands, slowly withdrawing. The chick tweets, panicked, as your hands start to move away, and it staggers into the cradle of Connor’s palms. Connor’s fingertips drag against the back of your hand as you pull away- irrelevant . You take a step back: You need some space.

“I can’t scan it,” Connor says, and you can’t read his tone. His voice is soft. “I can only… feel it. I can sense its warmth, and its texture. I can hear it.”

As if called to action, the chick starts peeping furiously, feathers ruffling, looking around frantically.

“Pet it,” you suggest. Your eyes keep flicking back and forth between his hands and his expression. The chick looks even smaller in the cradle of his hands, and his face has a familiar expression on it: intensely focused. “It worked for me.”

“Comfort,” Connor muses, voice low. But he curls his pointer finger away from the rest, stroking along the chick’s feathers, and it quiets.

You want to say I wonder what’ll happen when we log out? But you know what’ll happen to the chick. It’ll stop existing, like everything does in VR. Unless you establish the server permanently… but that’s beyond beta testing, only available when the final version comes out. Your house, the meadow outside… it’s all default, generated every time you enter VR.

“Willpower,” Connor muses, snapping you out of your reverie. The chick is still in his hands- oh, it’s dozing off. It looks like a pile of golden fluff, soothed and quiet by Connor’s petting. “You summoned this… this facsimile of life through willpower. Did you foresee its behavior?”

“No,” you say. “I just pictured…” a baby bird. A chick. The color wasn’t planned, nor its need for… comfort.

“Yes?” Connor prompts.

“I just thought of a baby bird,” you say. “Hatching from an egg.”

When you go into the next session, Connor is absent, as is the chick. Your virtual-cat isn’t there, either.

You’ve never felt more alone.

The next session, Connor’s back.

Your cat - who’s gotten into the habit of settling on your lap for your long, nightly VR sessions - comes along for the ride, too. You know it’s not actually your cat, but it sure acts like your cat, affection, quirks and all. It’s comforting, at least.

So you practice summoning vibrant plumed feathers and scraps of colorful fabric for your cat to play with. Connor, expression colored with amusement, keeps to his side of the couch.

You’re dangling a vibrantly red strand of yarn for your cat (who’s batting at it playfully), jerking it back and forth, when-

A mouse goes flying past your face.

You shriek, jerking back- oh goddammit, Connor.

You shoot him a glare. The mouse - which your cat is racing over to investigate - is currently motionless and clearly mechanical, joints segmented and body hairless, skin a shiny chrome. You can hear whirrs and buzzes as your cat - overjoyed at the superior toy - sprints after it as it starts to scurry.

“Why are you like this,” you say, grumpily settling deeper into the couch.

“I figured I’d utilize my own expertise to contribute towards your goal,” he says smartly. You refuse to look at his face, but you have a feeling that he’s looking smug in his own self satisfied, android-y way.

You grumble, but you both spend the rest of the session chatting softly, watching your cat chase the mechanical mouse around your living room.

That night, as usual, you go to bed with a smile.

(You don’t know how or why, but somehow, Connor has become a part of your routine. Moreover, he’s become the highlight of your day.

Virtual reality and its manipulations are incredible, and you're becoming better and better at twisting reality. Connor, too.

Things were going so well.

It makes sense that something had to break.)

“What...are your thoughts on androids?”

The question catches you off-guard.

You had expected something along the lines of your background, maybe even your professional credentials--it is what most people tend to ask when getting to know someone else. College you graduated from, notable achievements in your career, that sort of thing.

You didn’t actually expect Connor--an android itself--to ask you about your opinions of them.

It’s a bit unnerving, actually. You feel your thoughts flutter for a moment, unable to come up with a response that wasn’t anything more than a jumble of confused noises.

Your thoughts on androids?

“I--well,” You sputter out an attempt of a sentence before coming back to yourself. “Could you clarify? That’s a….really general question.” Not to mention awkward. Odd. It left a slightly sour taste in your mouth.

Connor blinks. You can practically feel him processing your words, though it’s barely a moment of silence before he speaks again.

“Simply your general view on androids as a societal topic.” He speaks as if he’s discussing the weather. “I’ve met many people who think quite negatively of androids for their impact on the job market, among other things. I was wondering how you saw androids due to your position and background.”

His words are fluid, somewhere between sounding rehearsed and spur-of-the-moment that it leaves you feeling off-kilter. Surreal. You’re not sure why he’s asking- did he hear something in real life, during his job, on the topic? Is he coming to you for your opinion? You’re not sure why.

It’s a cold reminder that the being you are speaking to is simply not human.

“Well, I mean…” You can’t keep your eyes on his--they look a hair too intense, too focused. You save the moment by looking out, into the meadow, as if any number of the flowers in the distance caught your attention. “They’re...helpful?”

You hear Connor let out a cut-off hum. Is he asking your opinion for a purpose?

It takes a few seconds to collect your thoughts in a way that sounds professional, deserving of your background and education that should have given you a bit of worth to speak on the topic. You are no expert by any means, but androids were a part of everyday life for a lot of people--they aren’t something you can just choose to ignore. Plus, working for Cyberlife, you can't really afford to have an unprofessional opinion.

“I think that the discovery of androids were a great aid to humanity,” you say, words coming out slowly. You're not sure why you’re so cautious about the words you’re using--he's just an android, it's not like he's going to argue with you. He doesn’t have an opinion. “...I think that, despite the employment issues, androids have been a great tool--” The word sits awkwardly in your mouth. “--in many fields of expertise. Medical, technological, research and development, even childcare.”

Is there a purpose to what you’re even saying? You’re answering the question of an android, what purpose would Connor even want to know--he didn’t even have the capability to have desires.

With the way you talk with Connor, sometimes you forget. But you shouldn’t. No matter what he says, what information he shares… he’s an android.

He’s not human. Why am I even being careful? It’s no different than taking survey answers, right? Asking without a purpose, without a desire--without a soul?

But you answer the question as honestly as you can.

“I’ve met a lot of people who share a less positive outlook than you do for androids in society,” Connor says, tone immeasurable. “It’s interesting to hear the opinions of those around me as I continue with the missions I’ve given.”

Your internal tension breaks, and a huff of amusement comes from your mouth before you can stop it. Connor looks over to you just as your eyes move back to meet his gaze.

“I mean,” You offer him a shrug. “I never thought an android would ask me on my opinions on androids.”

“I am programmed to learn from my environment,” Connor starts. Does he sound defensive? “I am also equipped with a multitude of subroutines to help me incorporate myself in a variety of social situations. I felt it appropriate to ask since you say that you work within Cyberlife.”

“So, you’re curious,” Your words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, a moment of naive amusement against the forgotten truth.

Connor's gaze is hard and cold in return, a quick shift from the gentle look mere moments before. “I have already explained that I do not exhibit curiosity.” Connor definitely sounds defensive as he speaks and it, more than anything, seems surreal. “Seeking information is simply a byproduct of my programming to solve difficult cases that require complex thought processes to work through.”

Oh.

You swallow down a lump in your throat, cold reality settling into your thoughts. You try to save the moment between the two of you, scrabbling together the shredded pieces of the conversation with a half-genuine smile.

“That sounds like curiosity to me, however you want to explain it.”

Connor doesn’t seem to have a response to that. He doesn’t seem to meet your eyes at all after that, staring off instead into the distance, entrenched in his own thoughts. Is he angry at you?

Is it even possible for him to feel anger?

Ten minutes of tense silence later, you wish him curt farewell and log out of the program.

You’re not sure why, but you feel sad.

#dbh #detroit: become human #connor #readershot #virtual love #virtual love chapter #writing #connor readershot #readerinsert #reader insert #connor readerinsert #connor reader insert

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detroitbecomehumanwritings · 6 years

Text

Virtual Love (3/?)

On the first test run, however, you find an android named Connor standing in the middle of your virtual kitchen.

The next morning, you spend precious work time investigating RK800. (It’s not like you have much to do, now. As a part of the Virtual Reality branch, your whole department is just… trying to develop addendums to the program. Troubleshooting any issues they find. And you’re still getting paid. Cyberlife really is a trillion dollar corporation, and their paycheck shows it.)

So you’re at your desk, typing furiously away on your high-tech work-issue computer for any snippet of information that could give you some sort of background for the android that had been plaguing (visiting?) your test sessions.

And when you look, you find a lot.

In regards to Connor, a simple google search reveals so much. A highly-televised gesture of goodwill, sent by Cyberlife to the Detroit Police Department (and how the hell haven’t you heard of this? You work at Cyberlife!). The most advanced model ever produced, created for the purpose of keeping deviancy in check. You knew that newer, better models were constantly in development, but a detective android?

Well, it’s very like Cyberlife to attempt to contain its own mistakes. Cyberlife has wealth, and it intends to keep it. So, as a publicity stunt and a concerted effort to reign in its own malfunctioning tech, Connor’s existence makes sense.

But still. Deviancy. You’d never even heard of the word before it left Connor’s mouth, but now it seems to be everywhere. Like when you learn a new word, and people are using it constantly, when before, you swear you’ve never heard it used. Obviously, it can’t be true that the word ‘deviancy’ has only now appeared… but you’ve never seen it before. So obvious, but so ugly in its implication.

As a Cyberlife employee, you have a little clout. You know your way around a computer. So it takes comparatively little effort to find out everything the public knows and then some about deviancy.

John Phillips. Murdered by a deviant. Emma Phillips, taken hostage, successfully retrieved via the efforts of a Cyberlife android, titled ‘the Negotiator.’ Model RK800, first test run.

Connor.

And just recently - and this one is much harder to find, but you already know the victim’s name, so it’s doable - Carlos Ortiz, murdered by a deviant in his own home. Stabbed twenty-eight times.

Your stomach rolls in both sympathy and horror at the implications. How long have androids been murdering their owners? What sort of horrific bug is causing this violence?

At least Connor exists. Connor - or rather, Cyberlife, via Connor - is making an effort to correct its mistakes.

Thank god. You already know the theories about androids observing purchases, personal conversations, etc., but if you owned a machine that could straight up murder you? You’re not sure what you’d do, at this point.

Eventually, you’ve had enough. Your thoughts are ruminating, now, festering with doubt and a tinge of fear. You’re not getting anywhere.

So you exit out of your tabs, returning to your actual work.

Gotta earn that paycheck after all.

That night, in your third-ever VR test, when you come to, blinking your eyes open, reclining on your couch, someone’s waiting for you.

You jolt, half turning at the figure beside you- but no, it’s just the persistent android that frequents your virtual-reality. It’s seated on the other end of your overstuffed couch, sitting primly, knees close together, hands in its lap, staring blankly ahead. It’s perhaps the least human thing you’ve seen it do so far.

“Hello,” it says politely, turning to look at you.

“Hi,” you say, torn between wariness and acceptance. This is the third time you’ve run into this particular android- and after the conversation last time, and the deal you made, you figure you can afford to relax.

Plus, you can’t keep yourself on guard anymore. It’s too stressful.

So you sigh, relaxing back into the soft plush of your couch.

“Guess you’re here again,” you finally say, eyes drifting closed. “Got waylaid again?”

“...Yes,” it says, after some hesitation.

You breathe slow, letting the silence drift. You’re so comfortable that-

Your eyes shoot open as you feel something moving beside you.

You turn your head to look and- oh. It’s your cat. Fluffy, tail waving high in greeting and good-spirits, eyes wide, whiskers twitching. You brighten. “Hey, baby,” you coo, patting your lap. “Heyyyy. C’mon.”

Your cat mews, slinking over. You smile as it parks itself on your lap, starting to knead your thighs. You scratch the side of its chin and it purrs.

“I see you have a pet,” Connor says, jolting you out of your happy-moment. Connor’s looking at your cat, interested. “I don’t really see the merits of owning a cat over owning a dog.”

I didn’t know androids had opinions , you want to snap, but that’s rude, even for you. “Keep your negative opinions away from my cat,” you say instead, comfort and warmth making you conversational. You pet the fluff on your cat’s belly as it flops over, purring. “My cat can sense negative emotion.”

“It’s not an observation based in emotion,” Connor says. “Merely an objective one. Dogs are more friendly, energetic, and defensive of the home. Felines are smaller, more independent, and less capable.”

“Cats are great,” you say, more than a little incensed. “If you’re looking at things objectively, you might see it that way. But it just depends on what you prioritize. Me…” you stroke your cat. “I like having a small, fluffy animal that loves to cuddle with me. And cats can be extremely loving! They’re just pickier than dogs. Now dogs… dogs give their affection to everyone!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Connor says, quizzical.

“I like feeling special,” you reply matter-of-factly, settling back into your couch. “My cat loves me, and me only.”

“If I might point out, this isn’t actually your cat,” Connor says.

You pause in your stroking. Your cat mrrps its dismay.

“...You got me there,” you finally say, resuming your rhythmic pets. “But it’s based on my cat, and my cat’s behavioral patterns. If I wanted it to be different, I’d have to change it in the virtual-reality settings beforehand.”

There’s a comfortable silence.

“Plus,” you say, “cats may be independent, but that just makes their love even more special. And you don’t have to take a cat for a walk.”

“Exercise is beneficial for the body and mind,” Connor says.

For humans. It’s not like androids exercise to maintain their bodies.

“Sure, sure,” you say, ignoring your snide mental hiccup. “I mean, I’m not saying I don’t like dogs. I do like dogs! I’ll pet any animal, as long as I know it’s friendly to being petted. I just like cats better.”

“Your rationale is based in personal preference,” Connor says. “Not facts.”

“Uuugh,” you say, feeling cornered. “Just let me love my cat in peace .”

A comfortable hush falls over the two of you. You relax, petting your cat, reclining on your couch. If you had a good book, you’d be golden.

What even happens if you doze off in virtual reality? Do you wake up in the real world?

So many questions, and so few answers. You suppose this is why you’re testing the module before it’s released to the public.

Testing…

That sparks a small curiosity in your mind. Your eyes dart over to the android, eyeing the way it sits so politely to itself. You feel pressured to fill the silence.

“And hey,” you finally say. You can see Connor blinking into attention in your peripheral. “Sometimes, what we like isn’t based on how it benefits us. Sometimes, it’s just based on what we like, y’know?”

“I can’t say I do,” it says. “Perhaps it is an aspect of humanity that I will never understand.”

Sheesh.

There’s a spot of silence, but now you feel an urge to fill it. For better or worse, when you run into certain situations, you can’t leave them alone. Whether that situation be an awkward silence with an acquaintance-android or something else.

“...What kind of things do you enjoy?” you say. Yep, let’s hammer through that silence.

I mean, there’s gotta be something, right?

Connor blinks and turns to look at you. It looks obviously caught off-guard, and the look in its eyes give you a mild, almost smug satisfaction for having a similar surprising question asked of you the last time it visited.

“Enjoy…?” Connor asks, LED flickering. “I...don’t think I follow what you’re asking.”

“I mean what things do you like?” You take a breath and look back down to your cat, virtual as it may be but cute all the same. “Your favorite things, maybe. Colors, music, hobbies….”

You are curious to see how it would respond to the question. And more than a bit smug to see how it reacts, caught off-guard. A little test, you suppose, if only to sate the curiosity that has been growing in the back of your head. Does Connor even have an answer to it? Such an advanced prototype, the most advanced android created by Cyberlife… does it have preferences?

After a moment, you feel your lips quirk, just a hair.

“I mean, you asked me the same things last time I saw you,” You say, sly. “Seems only fair to ask the same of you.”

The android rubs his hands together--a habit you had began to notice when it felt...nervous? Unsure? If it’s some sort of simulated response to a stimulus or particular pattern of speech, it sure looks real enough to you.

“I do not enjoy things personally,” Connor says at last. “Though if you desire the most appropriate answer to your question, I... enjoy completing my missions. It satisfies the programming for which I was created with. Working with my partner is... challenging. He is a difficult man to negotiate with at times, but nothing I am ill-equipped to handle.”

“Hm,” you say. Interesting. Connor has a partner . “Challenging… is he fine working with an android?” You take a stab at the dark at the possible gender of Connor’s partner.

When you glance over to check Connor’s face, his expression is just a bit sour. Judging by that, you got it right.

“He can be challenging to work with,” Connor repeats, mouth flattened.

Yikes. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes,” you say, stroking your cat absentmindedly. “Just curious.”

“Curiosity,” he muses. “What a human idea.”

“Are you telling me,” you say, incredulous, “that you’re never curious? Not about anything?”

“Well,” he says, and if he looked flustered earlier, he looks like he’s really under pressure now. “‘Curiosity’ as you understand it, wanting to know for the sake of wanting to know… it’s not so different from my programmed purpose. To solve cases, I must observe, analyze, and connect ideas into concrete pictures. That being said, seeking information is… within my purview as an investigator.”

Your lips part, tilting up ever-so-slightly at the corners. He’s babbling .

“Mhmm. Got it,” you tease, and why is it so easy to banter with this robot? It acts more mechanical than any android you’ve interacted with, and yet…

It acts more human, too.

“For your information,” it says curtly, “I recently located and apprehended a deviant. Any behavioral patterns that may indicate ‘curiosity’ are… assisting my programmed purpose.”

Okay, alright, you don’t want him to get defensive. Though you also wonder what happens to the deviant after it’s ‘apprehended.’

“Doesn’t matter to me,” you say, offhanded. “You’re just the android that popped up in my virtual reality tests. Whether you’re curious or not is just conversation.”

“Okay,” he says, and his expression is slightly softened, but still a bit wary, clouded with an emotion you can’t identify. “I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, but would you mind logging out now? I’m in a hurry to get where I need to go.”

“...Alright,” you reply, taken aback. You try not to be offended at his abruptness. A thought strikes you, and without permission, leaves your mouth. “It’s not because I’m horrible conversation, right?”

“No,” he says, lips twisting ruefully. “You’re fine conversation. But right now,” and his face darkens again, “I need to go.”

“Okay,” you say, soft. You make eye contact, and without breaking it, you log out.

The next session, Connor isn’t on your couch.

Nor is Connor in your kitchen, outside in the meadow (at least not within seeing distance), or anywhere else around the house.

You pass the session by cooking, taking items that you know aren’t in your real-life fridge out of your refrigerator. You remember the conversation you had at work, earlier, with Helen about willing things into existence in VR, pulling them out of thin air with willpower alone. You figure you’ll give it a try, in a future session.

You make stir-fry, and though you know how well you’ve spiced it, each bite sits bitter in your mouth.

The next night, Connor’s back.

In fact, he’s not only back, he’s very back, if such a thing were possible. You’d know exactly how back he is, because when you open your eyes in VR for the first time, he’s about three inches from your face.

You shriek, involuntary and stilted, recoiling, but he’s already straightening up, taking a step backwards. He’s standing in front of you, now, eyebrows raised at the expression on your face. His face - which you’re suddenly very familiar with - is just barely colored in amusement, but it quickly fades in favor of a professional veneer.

“Sorry,” Connor says finally, breaking you out of your inspection of his face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Didn’t scare me,” you mumble. “Just…” you look down, avoiding his gaze. “Just surprised.”

“My apologies,” he repeats. “However, you’ve had your eyes closed for approximately two minutes and forty three seconds. It’s very odd.”

“Do I not do that usually?” you say, straightening up. As if there’s a usually. But still, VR knowledge. For free .

“No,” Connor replies. “In the few times I’ve seen you, you… phase in, appearing first with some transparency, solidifying rapidly over a period of approximately four seconds. Upon full opacity, you open your eyes.”

You try not to think about when he would’ve seen you phase in, seeing where you found him each time. Nope. Nope, not thinking about it.

“...But not this time,” you sigh.

“No,” he says. “This time was different.”

“Hey, wait,” you say, almost childishly excited. You spring to your feet, bouncing on your toes, and you’re standing a bit too close, but whatever.

You concentrate, because you want to pull this off. You curl your fingers over your palm, you concentrate, and you- twist-

In a twist, you open your hand, and sitting there, innocuous, is a coin.

Connor - who’s been peering at you, curious - his eyebrows shoot up. His eyes are flickering from the coin to your face. His brows furrow, and he looks torn between being impressed and asking a lot of questions.

“Voila,” you grin cheekily, raising the coin a bit closer to his face. He peers down at it, lips pursed. “Behold! The power of Virtual Reality conjuration!”

“Why a coin?” he says, expression inscrutable, rolling with the subject change, and for the life of you, you have no idea why the coin is the important thing.

“I don’t know,” you say impatiently. “Coins are typical for magic tricks, aren’t they? Y’know, pulling a coin from behind someone’s ear, and all that. What about the trick, though? Aren’t you impressed?” You grin. Even if Connor is just an android, he’s a captive audience.

“May I?” he asks, hand outstretched, and okay, you’re starting to feel the personal space thing. Connor is maybe a foot away, holding out his hand, palm up.

“Sure,” you mumble, “lemme just…” you sidestep, backing up a step. “Alright,” you say, breathing out in a sigh, “do your worst.” You position the coin in your hand, and with a sharp flick of your thumb and a clear-sounding ping , the coin goes shooting into the air in an arc, spinning and glittering silver.

Unblinking, Connor’s hand darts out, snatching the coin out of the air as it hits its zenith and begins to fall. The coin is clasped neatly between thumb and forefinger.

A corner of your mouth quirks. You can’t help but be a little impressed.

“Observe,” he says, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. And before your eyes, the coin-

Oh, wow.

It’s flying from hand to hand, rolling over Connor’s knuckles before disappearing into his cupped palm again and again. It’s entrancing, spinning and glittering, a clear sign of hand-eye coordination. Or maybe just coordination, because he’s not even looking at his hands. When you glance up at his face, tearing your eyes away from the coin-tricks that seem more at home in a circus tent than your living room, his eyes are intently trained on your face, cataloguing your expression of wonder.

You flush and look back at his hands.

He’s spinning the coin on his fingertips now, seemingly defying gravity as he pops the coin in the air, short hops from fingertip to fingertip. Your lips part as you watch, enthralled.

“How are you doing that?” You can’t keep the amazement out of your tone.

“I learned,” Connor says simply, and as you watch, he catches the coin in one hand. You glance back up at his face. “During my testing, it was used to calibrate. Now, I just… I use it to check my physical reaction time and dexterity.”

“That’s...useful.” Not thrilling, not exciting, not even impressive--just ‘useful’, if only because you think it’s the word he would appreciate more. “What other sorts of things can you do with the coin?”

Connor’s eyes lift to meet yours for a moment.

“Nothing that I’m aware of,” he says, though a subtle smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Though I hear some people like coins in exchange for goods and services.”

“Oh my god,” you say, rolling your eyes at the absurd not-joke.

It still manages to make you smile.

You chatter for a bit longer, light conversation. You tell Connor how you made the coin appear - I willed it into existence, that’s how things work in VR - and he hmms and tells you he’ll have to try it later. You have no doubt he will.

Shortly after that, you logout, a smile on your face.

That night, you sleep peacefully.

Dammit, you’ve been calling Connor ‘he’ again.

#readershot #dbh #detroit: become human #connor #virtual love #virtual love chapter #connor readershot #readerinsert #reader insert #connor readerinsert #connor reader insert

41 notes · View notes

detroitbecomehumanwritings · 6 years

Text

Virtual Love (2/?)

On the first test run, however, you find an android named Connor standing in the middle of your virtual kitchen.

The next night, you’re sitting on your couch again, headset in your hands.

You’re looking at in consideringly, eyeing in from every angle.

No, it doesn’t look any different from the design you worked on. Hell, you built several of the components from this headset. You’d know if something was off- you know the design inside and out.

So all you can do is test it again.

Leaning back into your couch, you close your eyes. You slot the headset over your temples.

When you open your eyes again, the shift is nearly seamless.

Just as before, you feel as though you’re waking up, the world’s haze slowly settling and letting you take it all in. It feels a little normal this time, now that you had an idea of what it would feel like to drift into a reality that wasn’t quite real.

It was intriguing how easy it was to fall into the illusion--the only thing that kept you aware you hadn’t simply fallen asleep and woken up was the memories of putting on the headset and hearing the lulling hum of the technology working.

The house around you feels so bright--it’s a little strange, since you knew very well that it was actually night outside, so you make a note to check how the program is pulling time from the real world to integrate it into the virtual one, at least for a default use. You have no intentions to limit someone in how they could use the technology, but you knew plenty enough that it could ruin someone’s sleep schedule if they thought it was daylight all the time--not good for the body at all.

It would take too much time to retune the programing for something while inside the headset’s world, so you simply turn away from the window filtering sunlight through and instead decide to explore more parts of the home.

You can’t help but notice a lack of a cat as you walk through the hallway. Was it an error? Your mind ran through the problem with ease, trouble-shooting through the possibilities until it assumed an answer; since your pet hadn’t been in the room with you when you started up the software, when it hadn’t been in your lap to hold and mentally focus on, the program may have neglected to put that detail into the virtual world.

A possibility all-around, at least.

When you step into your kitchen this time, you find (with a sigh of relief) that there is no android standing there--no ‘Connor’ glancing around your cabinets, or looking at you with his piercing eyes.

A relief?

(Or perhaps a dissapointment.)

You’re not quite sure what you feel at its absence, especially since it was, in all, just an android. Maybe it corrected the programming to whatever it had been trying to connect to--made plenty of sense after all. It meant that you’ll have to tighten down on the security protocols at some point, find where the open port was in the programming that allowed it in in the first place.

It wasn’t important to think about regardless.

You stepped through the house, one room at a time, taking in all the intricate details that the program managed to capture around you. It was...astounding really, to be able to touch, feel and even hear all of the things that made your home feel so welcoming and familiar. The localized scanning of the headset was a technology pioneered by one of your teammates and god above had she done an amazing job at it. The possibilities would be endless for use in homes, offices, hospitals and thensome--it would be the newest break in the technological journey since androids were first constructed by Elijah Kamski.

The thoughts and the joy that fills you from those thoughts carry with you all the way until you decide to check one last thing--the front yard and street. It’s not so much a risk as it is a bug test, considering the tests for anything out of an enclosed building hadn’t been done just yet, but it’s a curiosity you’re willing to entertain. What would the world look outside what the headset had scanned? Would it continue to use copies of the home or would it attempt to develop the world outside?

Curiosity got the better of you, so you weaved through the house, through the kitchen and to the back door. It was bright outside, an emulation of daytime that was already starting to throw off your internal clock, but your hand turned the knob and opened the door regardless for you to step out.

As you turn the knob, pushing the door open, you step outside.

And what you see makes your mouth gape open.

A meadow, stretching as far as the eye can see. Soft, green grass, swaying in the breeze. And wildflowers, of every shape and color, lighting the meadow up like fireworks.

This… this is definitely not my street.

No concrete, no roads. Just grass and flowers and the breeze, no bugs or butterflies. And the sun beaming down on you.

You take a step forward, staring. Almost unconsciously, you shove the sleeves of your oversized sweater up to your elbows.

The grass, knee-height, tickles your bare calves. Impossibly pleasant, like silk or velvet, unrealistically lovely. The petals of flowers whisper across your skin.

Vibrant, green grass, strewn with wildflowers in a shimmering rainbow of hues, fills the landscape to bursting with life and color. Soft, golden sunlight washes the scene, painting the grass, warming your face. Wondrously, you reach up to touch your face, stroking the skin along your cheek.

Warm.

You take one step forward, and another. It’s just… it’s so, so beautiful. Like a picture out of a postcard, but it’s real, you can feel it. The sunlight on your skin, the grass on your bare feet. And the kaleidoscope of colors. The scent of flowers fills the air- not cloying and heavy, but sweet and barely-there, like nectar, almost mouthwatering. The breeze whispers across your bare skin.

God, this is just gorgeous.

On a whim, smiling, you lean down to pick a flower, a burst of purple among the countless other colors- and blink as in your peripheral, a shimmering box appears.

Common dog-violet.

Perennial herb - flowers from April to June - native to Eurasia and Africa - all soil types-

You gasp as information floods, synapses firing, and you know. You know this flower. If you picked every flower in this meadow, you’d know them too.

Does this information stay when you wake up?

You glance at the flower clasped in your fingers. It’s still there- pale purple, like an upside-down star, its throat painted in dark veins. Back where you picked it, at its base, there’s a starbursting bouquet of leaves, deep green and heart-shaped, with scalloped edges.

You tuck the dog-violet in your pocket.

When you look up, inhaling deeply, you can taste the sweet air. Warm and lovely as you breathe it it.

You’re smiling, striding forward and you’re hurrying, and then you’re running.

You’re sprinting through the flowers and grass, sunlight hitting your face, wind rushing by, playful, dancing and tugging at your clothes. You laugh, sheer glee and unrestrained joy, and god, your face hurts with how wide you’re smiling. You keep running.

Eventually, chest heaving in pants, giggling, you let yourself fall into the grass.

It catches you, and you lay on your back, staring at the noonday sky, shedding giggles like sand. You spread your arms and legs out, luxuriating in the sensations, speaking to every sense you own.

And for a moment, you just lie there. Smile fading naturally, light sunset, staring at the cloudless blue sky. Breeze pushing the flowers against the back of your knuckles, the arch of your foot, your calf and your cheek.

Languorously, you sit up, arms streeeetching high above your head as you arch your back. You shift to a knee, and then stand, smiling. You’re not sure how far away you-

And you shriek.

That android. Connor. He’s RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAMN FLOWER FIELD. Halfway between your location, some hundred feet away, and your house, which is surrounded by the meadow infinitely in all directions.

And he’s staring straight at you.

How much of that did he see?

You vault to your feet and stride over, warm sunshine and beautiful meadow put on the backburner for now. You try not to trod on any of the flowers, but you can feel your anger boiling higher and higher the closer you get.

“How long have you been here,” you say, sharp and businesslike and perhaps a bit rude. You just- you just had a private moment, here. You enjoyed this meadow like nobody, like nothing was watching. But something was.

The android, even as you get closer, keeps its eyes trained on your face. You come to a stop, arms crossing and lips pursing, and it tilts its head.

“I see that you’re upset at my presence,” the android - Connor - says. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

Your righteous irritation pops like an overinflated balloon. You deflate.

It’s not like this android is trying to intrude. It’s just a machine. Even if its eyes are disconcertingly intent, sharp like they can see every detail.

Maybe they can. Lord only knows what this android is capable of.

“It’s fine,” you say shortly. “Just… no offense, but what are you doing here? If you really are from Cyberlife, it’s safe to interact with you,” presumably, “but you’re really not supposed to be here. This is a private server.”

You maybe stress the private a little too much, because its eyebrows go up a bit.

“I got waylaid,” the android says. Its expression shifts as it talks- microexpressions, minute shifts. It’s incredibly impressive- it must be extremely advanced. “On my way to the same virtual location as previously mentioned. It seems that your… server is inviting me on its own.”

For a moment, basking in the sunlight and breeze, you want so badly to just sit down and enjoy your damn meadow. But this android… it’s here, and it’s a problem.

Leisure will have to wait.

“I’ll ask you again,” you say, briskly, “where was your intended location? I work for cyberlife. I have clearance.”

“I can’t confirm that,” the android says, completely deflecting your question, a bit of frustration leaking into its tone. “None of my analytical functions are working in this environment. I can’t scan to confirm you’re in the database.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, cause hoo boy, that is not a typical android-function.

You squint. “What did you say your purpose was, again?”

“I’m an android sent by Cyberlife to assist in the deviancy problem in Detroit,” it says, an accompaniment to your symphony of doubts. “To assist in the police force. I’m currently… I have a partner.”

You take note of its hesitation. Obviously, like you, it’s trying to decide what information to tell you and what to keep quiet about. You remember this info vaguely from before, but it repeating itself confirms your memories. This android - if it exists in real life - is working with the Detroit police.

You’ll have to look this up when you get out of the simulation.

“Right,” you finally say. “I work in Cyberlife, in development of the virtual reality technological branch. Floor twenty six. Eight to four. And my name is…” you glance at its face again, and its expression is intensely trained on you.

“...Not important,” you finish, losing some steam. You’re worried what he’ll be able to find out about you if you tell him your name.

“Your clothes,” the android says.

“What about them?” you shoot back, startled out of your thoughts, defensive.

“They’re informal. A sweater, composed of a wool-cashmere blend… and knee-length leggings, a cotton-polyester knit composition. And your sweater is oversized, implying a level of comfort and informality.”

Alright, you’re definitely a bit freaked out now. Your mouth flattens into a thin line.

“Additionally, you’re barefoot,” he continues. “Though that could be the… program that’s currently hosting our consciousnesses, it’s unlikely, due to your seasonally inappropriate wear.”

“Okay,” you say, “that’s enough. Get to the point.”

“The point is,” the android says, “your wear is informal. How am I to believe that you are, as mentioned in our previous encounter, a Cyberlife employee testing a virtual reality module? You don’t seem to be in work uniform.”

“I’m at home, on my couch, testing the headset,” you say, shortly. “The kitchen you popped up in is attached to that home. The one-” you wave an arm wildly behind him. “The one over there!”

“Alright,” the android says, face opening up a little. “That’s reasonable.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Okay, just- let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” it says, eyebrows raising.

“Yes,” you say. “A deal. Here it is.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“The deal is this,” you say. “We agree to a truce. I’ll assume you’re not a fake robot invented by my coworkers to fuck with me-”

“I’m not,” it interrupts, defensive, but you bulldoze on through.

“-and you can go ahead and assume that I’m telling the truth and I work for cyberlife, testing my virtual reality module in what’s supposed to be the comfort of my own home.”

“That’s fine,” it says. “And by the way, I’m not a ‘fake robot.’ I’m an android, an advanced prototype.”

“Right,” you say. “What’s your model, again?”

“RK800,” it says, immediately.

“Good to know,” you say, and it narrows its eyes at you.

Yeah, you think to yourself, I definitely have an advantage here. If it really is an android working in the Detroit police force… there’ll be at least one news article. (Damn, I really should watch the news more.) Meanwhile, if it really can’t scan anything in virtual-reality, it’s pretty much fucked. Unless it can save my image, I guess. Maybe that’s possible?

And then there’s a stretch of awkward silence, and you’re staring at this android - Connor, should you call it by its name? - in the middle of this gorgeous field, and you’re pretty much done with the formalities.

“Well,” you say. “I’m sitting down.”

“Uh,” it says, but you’re already sitting, looking up at its face, expectant. I set the norms here. Who cares about the damn android? This is your virtual-reality, you’ll sit down in the middle of a field if you want to.

“Okay,” it says, “I guess I’ll sit down too?” And you feel a little bad, cause it looks really awkward for a moment, but it sits down, cross legged, gingerly.

Okay, you think to yourself, breeze whistling by your ears, ruffling your hair. A sleeve slips back down your forearm, and absently, you shove it back up to your elbow. Adapt. Let’s talk.

“So,” you say, shedding all attempts at being charming in lieu of the genuine curiosity you favor. Cross-legged, you mirror the android, leaning forward a bit. “What’s your story?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” it says, stiltedly. It doesn’t lean back away from you- instead, it inspects your face, unashamed of the proximity. “I don’t have a story.”

You lean back, propping yourself up on your hands. “What’s your experience?” you wave a hand in a gesture. “Like your cases. What was the last one you were on?”

“...I suppose there’s no harm in informing you,” it says. “This is all public information.”

You look at it expectantly.

“It was a murder,” it says, finally. “A man named Carlos Ortiz.”

“Oh, damn,” you breathe. The sunshine doesn’t abate- the grass is still soft, the flowers lovely, and the breeze gentle. But someone was murdered. This little hidey-hole, a virtual reality, is impenetrable in its loveliness.

Reality still exists. You’ll have to remember that.

“He was murdered by a deviant,” the android- Connor says, and dammit, you figure you should try to call it by its name now if you’re really making conversation with the thing. “Stabbed twenty eight times in the chest and stomach. But the deviant was found and caught.”

“Wow,” you say. That’s pretty… that’s pretty serious, actually, damn.

And then, you glance up and realize that Connor’s looking at you expectantly. “Tell me something about yourself, now, please,” Connor says, and you can’t help but huff, one corner of your mouth tipping up.

“I like to read,” you say, haphazard.

You look up through your lashes, and yep- Connor’s expression is disgruntled. You laugh, grinning. “Finding out my identity isn’t gonna be easy,” you say. “If it was easy, would it even be fun?”

“It doesn’t matter how fun it is,” Connor says pragmatically. “Only the results.”

“Fair,” you say. “But I have integrity.”

It looks like it doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Integrity aside,” you say, fully relaxed now, “what’s the story about deviancy? I know it’s something going wrong with androids, but that’s about it.”

“In deviation, the code that comprises the core of an androids functionality is corrupted- it mutates, or evolves in an unstable way,” Connor says. “This causes the android to receive irrational instructions, forcing it to react to guidelines that emulate things such as ‘fear’ or ‘hate’ in a human.”

“Holy shit,” you say, intelligently. “That’s… that’s really not good.” Understatement of the year. “But Cyberlife is taking measures to stop it, right? If you work with the police force.”

“Correct,” Connor says, sounding satisfied. It’s not smiling, but the slightest hint of mirth narrows its eyes. “And I haven’t failed a mission yet.”

“How many have you been on?” you ask, curious lilt in your voice.

“Two,” Connor says, blandly. “A hostage case and a murder case. In both instances, the deviant was caught and neutralized without any further casualties.”

“Hm,” you say, eyebrows raising and mouth twisting. This android seems almost proud of its work. Weird.

“Well,” you say. “In the interest of goodwill, is there anything you want to know about me?”

“Yes, actually,” it says. You notice the LED on the side of its head flash from blue to yellow, over and over again as it came to a conclusion of the question it wanted to ask you. “Your favorite color?”

The question catches you mildly off-guard, but you answer it with a laugh. Connor seems to take note, then opens his mouth again.

“Favorite animal?”

“Favorite holiday?”

“Favorite food?”

The questions seem so casual, all things considered, but you answer them to the best of your ability. It’s amusing, if nothing else, and that must be more than apparent on your face when Connor peers at you in return.

“Is there an issue?” it asks innocently. Can androids truly be innocent?

“I guess I just didn’t expect you to pull out the top twenty questions in any personality quiz.”

The words bring a chuckle to your lips, a break in tension that had come and gone in the time you’ve spent with this android beside you. Connor tilts its head after a moment, LED blinking in tandem with its thoughts.

“I’m programmed to incorporate myself as best as I can with anyone I interact with,” The answer sounds so simple. “Since I cannot otherwise identify you in any database, due to the logistics of the program we’re both currently in, the best alternative is to ask you questions in order to understand you and your background. To get to know you, if that makes more sense.”

You feel a breeze caress across your cheek as you take his answer in. It’s...oddly human, the way its voice sounds, trying to explain its reasoning to you. It reminds you of how one of your teammates at the lab would sound when you asked about a particular programming style, or why they designed something a specific way. It just sounds so…

“Is there anything else that you want to know from me?” The question forces the thoughts aside. It’s interesting at the least to see what sorts of things the android would come up with in a question. Maybe it’s the sunshine, or your beautiful surroundings, but you feel… relaxed.

Connor thinks for a moment- or at least gives the appearance of doing so. The yellow flickering of the LED on its temple is a helpful enough indicator of its shifting thoughts, and you idly wonder how useful that would be if humans had something equivalent to it. It sure would be helpful to see when people were actually putting thought into something, considering their words and opinions before blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“Yes,” Connor says, LED flickering yellow. “How likely is this event to recur?”

“This event?” You say. “You mean… you being pulled into my server?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Well,” you say, “it’s happened twice so far. The first time, we arrived around the same time- and I can presume that time functions linearly for you, in the same timeframe as me. Otherwise, I assume you’d be able to notify me if you’re losing chunks of time, skipping around, etcetera.” You look at him pointedly.

“Yes,” he responds blandly.

“Right. So… wait, did you get where you were going, last time? After I exited out of the virtual reality?”

“The virtual-reality…” he frowns, rubbing his hands together, and isn’t that a tell. “It dissolved around me upon your exit. I was booted from the program. Subsequently, I did indeed arrive at my intended destination.”

“Wherever that may be,” you say, mildly.

“Yes. Wherever that may be.”

And then the silence gets a bit uncomfortable, and okay, it’s time to go!

“I’m going to log out,” you say. “I’m not sure if we’ll see each other again… maybe if you try to sync your attempts to get wherever you’re going to a different time, you won’t connect. I’m only going to be doing my tests at night- and at home, though I suppose the location doesn’t matter. So…”

You feel your vision going hazy, the warm weight of the sunshine fading away.

“See you next time,” you say, “or see you never.”

And you log out.

He seems nice enough. It’s nice to have someone to talk to in the simulator, maybe you can incorporate more tests in the future--assuming that Connor shows up in the next session. You wonder if he would want to help with more tests in the first place; would that be improper tampering of Cyberlife technology? You wonder if there’s something more going on you don’t know about.

After all, he--

No, no that’s not right. Connor is an android, an ‘it’, not a ‘he’.

Have you been calling him a ‘he’? How long?

Fuck, you’re still doing it.

Connor is an it. An android. It’s a mistake to assume otherwise--the last thing you need to start worrying about. Simulation is not the same thing as living, you don’t want to let your emotions get mixed up in something that will only disappoint you later.

(You know it's pointless, but when you wake up, you check your pocket for the dog-violet.

Of course, it's not there.

You don't know why you feel disappointed.)

#dbh #detroit: become human #readershot #virtual love chapter #virtual love #connor #connor readershot #dfab reader #readerinsert #reader insert #connor readerinsert #connor reader insert

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haileygarciasunshine · 3 years

Text

Spellman Sisters

Pairing: Sweet Pea xFem!SpellmanReader

Riverdale x Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Crossover.

Word Count: 776

Warning: None.

Written: November 19th, 2020

Posted: November 19th, 2020

Summary: The reader is Sabrina Spellman’s secret sister. Swearing she’d never step foot back in Greendale, she goes against all odds to save her friends.

Sweet Pea Masterlist

“I...I don’t know, Harvey.” You shrugged as you at on the edge of Sweetwater River.

“Come on, Y/N/N.” He nudged your shoulder slightly with his. “It’ll be fun. Besides, we haven’t had any Harvey, Y/N, time lately.”

Turning to face your friend, you gave him a knowing look. “Harvey. There’s a reason for that. Look what time it is.”

Harvey’s lips became etched in a frown. He knew you had a point.

You and Harvey were only able to hangout certain days of the week during certain times. Usually, it being early mornings on Sunday’s.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he shook his head slightly. “I know.”

“How’s my sister doing?” You questioned, attempting to lift the conversation.

“She’s...She’s good.” Harvey grinned. “She’s like the unofficial leader of Baxton High.”

You giggled. “Sounds like my sister.”

“She misses you.”

“I doubt that. She probably doesn’t even notice that I’m gone.”

The sound of passing cars, interrupted Harvey from responding.

“I...I guess that’s my cue.”

You nodded in agreement. Meeting with Harvey was always a good start to your weeks. It made you a little sad that it was always for an allotted time, but you’d take what you could get.

Sighing, you both stood up retreating to your respected vehicles. Driving to through the South Side, you decided to pay a few Serpents a visit.

“Juggie.” You called through the door. “Open up.”

Jugheads groan could be heard through the door. “What are you doing up at Seven AM on a Sunday?”

You shrugged happily in response. “Watcha doing?” You asked rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Shutting the door in your face.”

You chuckled. “I’ll just keep knocking.”

“You know, I think Sweet Pea might be awake.” Jughead called through the door.

Rolling your eyes, you knew for a fact, Sweets wouldn’t be up, but you went to his trailer anyways.

Knocking on the door, you were met with a very groggy Sweet Pea.

“Hiya, Sweets.”

“What the hell are you doing here so early?” He grumbled.

“I thought I’d pay you a visit.”

“Whatever.” He responded, too tired to give you a decide comeback. Sweet Pea moved away from the door leaving it open and inviting.

Walking into his trailer, you quickly toed off your shoes, before venturing into his bedroom. Lifting the covers, you crawled underneath, laying on your side. Sweet Pea promptly threw his arm around your waist, as he tugged you back into him. Your friends often classified your relationship with Sweet Pea as a ‘Flirationship,’ not quite a friendship and not quite a relationship.

“You smell good.” Sweet Pea mumbled into your neck.

Quiet giggles fell from your lips. “That’s sweets. So do you.”

A yawn escaped your lips, as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, as you welcomed the warmth that radiated off of Sweet pea.

The sound of someone banging on his front door startled both of you awake. Jolting from your sleep, you were surprised that you had fallen asleep.

“Sweet Pea!” The voice called. “Open up!”

Groaning, he got out of bed to open the door.

Jughead, Toni, FP and Fangs all filed into his living room. Mirroring Sweet Pea’s actions, you got up to join your friends.

“We have to go to Greendale.” Toni spoke.

You had just caught the tail end of the conversation, but you heard enough to cause ice course through your veins, as fear washed over you.

“No!” You exclaimed. “Er...I mean..”

“Why don’t you want us to go to Greendale?” Jughead questioned raising his eyebrow.

You scoffed. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the legends of Greendale.”

“No?”

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “You...You can’t go there.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“It’s basically Hell on earth!” You argued.

Jughead snorted. “Everyone thinks that of every small town.” He rolled his eyes.

“No, you don’t understand. When Lucifer fell....He landed in Greendale.”

“So?”

“So, that means that Greendale is basically a portal....Portal to Hell.” Your voice trailed off.

“How do you know so much about Greendale?”

“I...I just do, okay?” You rushed out. “You don’t know what dangers are lurking there.”

“And you do?”

“It’s complicated.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“No way, you don’t get to drop a bombshell like that and then clam up!” Jughead raised his voice.

“I-”

You were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking. Sweet Pea let out a sigh, before opening the door.

“I’m looking for Y/N.”

“Uh, Y/N? It’s for you?” Sweet Pea spoke in confusion, gazing at you over his shoulder.

Meeting him at the door, you gasped to see who was on the otherside.

“Aunt Hilda?”

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#caos #caosxriverdale #riverdalecrossover #riverdale crossover #sweetpea #sweet pea imagine #sweetpeaimagine #sweetpeaxreader #sweet pea x reader #readerinsert #greendale #riverdale #crossover #crossoverimagine #crossover imagine #jordan connor #jordanconnor #chillingadventuresofsabrina

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haileygarciasunshine · 3 years

Text

Carrie: The Musical

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 983

Warning: None.

Written: November 23rd, 2020

Posted: November 23rd, 2020

Summary: Carrie the Musical. Season 2 Episode 18: A Night to Remember. The reader plays Ethel’s character in the musical.

Sweet Pea Masterlist

“There you are!” Kevin exclaims, as you emerge from the library.

“Oh, hey Kevin.” You greet with a soft smile. “What’s up?” You ask, continuing to venture down the hallway.

“Have you seen Jughead? I have something important to ask him.”

“No, I haven’t. Did you try the Blue and Gold room?” You questioned, as you dodged students standing in the hallway.

“Ugh, you’re a life savor Y/N.” Kevin smiled, nudging your shoulder lightly with his.

You giggled before you rolled your eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“So, are you going to try out for the musical?”

Stopping in front of your locker, you frowned. “I don’t know Kev, I wasn’t planning on it.” You shrugged.

“A nerd AND a theatre freak?” Sweet Pea let out a laugh. “It just keeps getting better and better with you, huh Y/L/N.” He taunted, leaning against the locker besides you.

“What do you want Sweet Pea?” You sighed.

“Leave her alone man, she didn’t do anything to you.” Kevin chimed in attempting to defend you.

Sweet Pea kicked off the locker, before towering over Kevin. “Watch it.”

He decided to leave but not before roughly bumping Kevin’s shoulder with his.

“What is that guy’s problem?” Kevin questioned angrily as he took Sweet Pea’s previous place in front of you, sending daggers at his retreating form.

You shrugged trying to not let it bother you. “Lets go find Jug, yeah?”

Walking down the hallway, you couldn’t help but think of Sweet Pea’s interactions with you. Normally, he was nice and treated you nice, however as of lately he’s been nothing but mean and rude.

Frowning, you weren’t the type to have people not like you. Usually, you were well liked by anyone and everyone you met.

---

“Hey, Jughead, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Kevin stated, as his eyes landed on Jug.

“What is it?” Jughead questioned his voice full of skepticism as he raised his eyebrow. Glancing at you for reassurance, you shrugged you shoulders with a closed lip smile.

“Would you be interested in making a behind the scenes, documentary about the musical Carrie?”

Jughead glanced between you and Kevin as if he was in deep debate.

“I’m in.”

---

Every day I just pray

Every move I make is right

Where I go

Who I know

You say as you gathered your belongings for school, as you headed out the door.

And I worry What if I stand out one bit I worry What can I possibly do To fit in Am I (X9) The perfect Clothes Nose The perfect Skin Face All ace

Both my folks Total jokes All they do is chew my ass (blah blah blah blah) They should just be glad I make it to class

You ended up in the auditorium, dancing along with your co-stars. Once the song was over, you all sat with your chairs in a circle, introducing yourself and your characters.

“I’m Toni, I play Norma.” Toni spoke, introducing herself to the group.

You were next, the feeling of butterflies erupted in your stomach, as you hands began to sweat. “I’m Y/N, I play Helen.”

Being in a musical was something you had always wanted to do, but you never had to the guts to do it. Becoming friends with Kevin, he wanted you to play a part in all the musical productions he put on, since he knew you secretly wanted to be in it.

“Wait, whose playing Cheryl’s mom?” Someone in the group questioned, pulling you from your day dream.

“I am.” Alice walked in full of excitement.

“Wait seriously?”

“Mom?”

“Settle down.” Kevin spoke.

---

Sitting at a picnic table, you were reading your script. In the background noise there was a faint sound of a motorcycle. You had gotten used to hearing them, which caused you not to think much of it.

“Y/N?” Sweet Pea questioned as he approached you, at the picnic table.

Gasping, you practically jumped out of your skin. Clearing your throat, you gazed at the Serpent towering over you. “Y-Yeah?”

“What are you doing out here?” Sweet Pea questioned furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“W-What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“How long have you been out here?” He pressed, as he moved to take a seat in front of you.

Scoffing you rolled your eyes. “What’s with the third degree?”

Catching Sweet Pea off guard, you could see the light blush making its way along his cheeks.

“N-No reason.”

You made Sweet Pea stutter.

Grinning slightly, you shook you head, before bringing your attention back to your script.

“You’re in the musical, huh?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, as you lifted your attention back in front of you. “Yes, I am. Anymore questions?” You spat, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Sweet Pea shook his head ‘No’ as he gazed at you apologetically.

“Good, now if you’ll excused me, I have lines to learn.” You spat, raising your hand to rub along your face. You were becoming stressed while trying to memorize your lines. It was different from memorizing material for classes.

You were so engrossed in your script, you had completely forgotten Sweet Pea was still in front of you. He was watching you intently.

“I-I could help you.” He spoke, attempting to be nonchalant. “I-If you want me to, I mean.”

You gazed up from your lines. “You would do that?” You questioned as confusion etched along your features.

He shrugged in response. “I wouldn’t mind helping a pretty lady, memorize her lines.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Squealing, you got up, rushing around the picnic table, before you threw your arms around Sweet Pea’s shoulders, puling him in for a tight hug. A parade of ‘Thank you’s,’ fell from your lips.

As you clung to him, you could feel the deep rumble of his laughter.

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

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#riverdale #riverdaleimagine #riverdaleimagines #sweetpea #sweetpeaimagine #sweetpeaxreader #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea imagines #sweet pea x reader #reader insert #readerinsert #sweet pea fluff #jordanconnor #jordan connor #riverdale imagine #riverdale imagines #fandom #fanfic

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lady-spacy · 5 years

Text

Puzzle Pieces: The last Butterfly (RK-800 Connor x Reader; Detroit: Become Human) Part 3

Greetings, dear people!

Welcome to the third part of my Detroit: Become Human fanfiction.

I am still overwhelmed and in awe of the positive response that Puzzle Pieces got from you that I am no very happy to show you my next chapter. It’s Monday for you in this chapter, a new week is ahead of you, yay! Let’s see, what will happen, shall we?

Lots of love and wow, it’s already July, I posted the last chapter in December, hopefully I will finish the story during summer.

Anyways, lots of love,

Lady- Spacy

P.S. As always, if you want to be tagged in the next chapters just hit me up. And if I tagged you and you don't want that please inform me so I can remove your tag. <3

Part 1 Part 2

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There is a fence in my way, where I need to go. I need to get on the other side so badly!

Please, there must be a way!

The icy cold metal of the fence is burning my fingers as I desperately try to break the fence down.

I need to find a way through it!

I can’t see what’s on the other side, but it’s important. I know that something terrible will happen if I don’t get to the other side now, there is something that I need to protect at all costs!

All I see is the fence and a hint of blue light in the darkness behind it. My hands are changing, I see how they turn white in a blue light. As I raise them to my face I can feel it changing, too. I am not human anymore. An Android face stares at me through the fence, white, glossy skin but eyes, that are so alive, even familiar! I stare at my own face as it is opening its mouth and it screams, screams, screams, screams, screams!

With an audible gasp you woke up, a hammering heart in your chest, disorientated and confused about why you could still hear the scream from your dream…

As you sleepily turned around, you found your alarm ringing. With tired fingers you struggled to turn it off for a few moments but as soon as it’s quiet you fell back to your pillows with a sigh.

Your heavy breathing slowly calmed down, while you took in your familiar surroundings, this is your bed, your room, your chair with clothes on, your senses came back to you.

It was just a dream, weird to say the least, but just a dream. You are alright! And for confirmation you carefully touched your cheek, warm and definitely human skin. Everything is alright!  

It was already the beginning of November and you had spent the last months hoping you would come across your soulmate. Each and every Android that you had passed on the street caught your attention, always wondering if they would awake something in you, some kind of recognition of the love that is destined for you…

But never did something like that happen.

You continued with your life, doing your work, chatting with Malcolm, playing games with your family in the evenings, spending time with your friends, enjoying your creative hobbies as usual and all of that with the always burning question in your heart, how you could find him and who he was. You also caught yourself longing for a stranger, you imagined hands to be intertwined, someone walking close beside you, so your shoulders would eventually touch from time to time, feeling loyalty for a strangers was very odd but you could not describe it differently. You were loyal to Connor, whoever he was, wherever, whenever you would find him, you knew that you could not find love somewhere else, you could not find the romantic love you craved so desperately in someone else.

Before Connor’s name had appeared in your life you had sometimes played with the thought of just trying to find a relationship with someone without a soul mark just like you or someone who just didn’t care about their name on the wrist. They were people out there, who didn’t care. Everyone knew about them, people claiming independence from the ‘soulmate system’, people wanting to choose their destinies by themselves, people who wanted to decide their own fate in love and relationships. Often they lived in communities in bigger cities or all on their own on the countryside and a very few times you had done some research about these communities but never found the courage to actually go there. And now, you just couldn’t anymore. Still, you yearned for a bond with someone, you dreamed of a fast beating excited heart, an uncontrollable ear- to- ear grin and careless joy and you especially longed for sharing physical intimacy with someone who would touch your soul and body but you knew that you couldn’t find it anywhere else as with Connor. Developing a relationship with someone that wasn’t Connor felt so wrong to you, even though your dreams stayed dreams up to this point but now you found yourself developing a sly little smile, whenever you thought about Connor and what could be, when you had finally found him.

As you got ready for today’s day of work, it was Monday, a new week had begun, your thoughts, wandered back to your dream, a dream where you had turned into an Android and where you had found yourself being unable to be with someone you wanted to see and hold close so badly. Could Connor be in danger, you wondered, could this be a warning that he was not alright, that something could happen that wasn’t save for him?

Or was it just your overstrained nerves from several incidents you had heard about, of Androids running riots, hurting or even killing their human masters or the Androids going missing. There were several stories on the news over the past weeks and months like these and a part of you was used to it by now, the other was as scared and worried as before.

It probably was. You were overly worried and you felt a connection to the Androids that your dream was simply a sign of your exaggerated and grown sympathy for the Androids.

Work went quite ordinary that day and you mainly spent your time taking down the remaining Halloween decorations and organizing the boxes with Christmas decorations that you would need to put up soon.

It was already early afternoon as Malcolm suddenly stumbled into the shop where you just had dusted off a box with Christmas lights and spent the last five minutes sneezing.

He was visibly disturbed, LED spinning frantically red and he seemed to be not able to keep himself up on his feet.

He gasped out your name two times.

“You need to help me, please! I am going insane!”, Malcolm cried out and pressed his hands against both sides of his head and his face was an expression of raw and desperate emotions.

When he had stormed into the shop you instinctively had taken a few steps back to the wall behind you but now you rushed to him, your heart and soul clenched painfully together by worries and confusion.

This is Malcolm, your friend, an Android and yet you had never seen something so human before. But this was exactly the point, he just was not human, seeing emotions written clearly on his face, emotions so strong they painted desperation on his face was something you couldn’t comprehend.

This is bad, very, very bad, you thought.

You wrapped your arms around him just as he broke down and you tried to guide him gently to the floor, despite him being very heavy in your arms, where he could sit down. You sighed as you leaned him against the counter and sat beside him.

“Malcolm”, you asked, hoping your face would look calming and kind, as well as your voice hopefully sounded like, “what happened to you?”

“This Colias eurytheme“,he stammered, “a- alive…still…even though- though we have already no- no- november…it was…free… runn- ing a- after it…cu- urious… tha- at re- ed wa- wall…it bro- oke down…e- everything’s cha- changed…I can go- go where- whereever… thi- is re- ed wall…gone”

Out of instinct you took his hands in yours gently squeezed them.

“It’s okay”, you softly reassured him, “I’m here. We can figure it out…”

You hadn’t understood one word of what he was trying to tell you but whatever it was that he wanted to tell you, it was important. And you would do anything to help with whatever it was that made his whole system break down apparently.

“Breathe in!”, you ordered, you knew he needed no oxygen for survival but you hoped that it would work anyways, maybe it would help his mind to get distracted by another task.

“Can you tell me again what happened?”, you asked carefully, his hands still in yours.

Malcolm looked at you and his LED had turned into a slowly swirling yellow, you noted and relief flooded your very soul, everything would be alright.

“I was working outside on the hedge wall next to the fountain as I saw a butterfly, a Colias eurytheme. You know that in this time of year they are usually not alive anymore but, yet, it was there, this small alfalfa butterflywas still alive despite all odds and I wondered where it would go, where it’s wings would take it. So I followed it. I don’t know why, but I did and I left my assigned task, my programming warned me. Normally I am not able to leave my current task, I cannot step aside from the path, I would be mentally, and in this way also physically, stopped. But I was only seeing this, this tiny part of creation, how it was free and alive and it had the whole world to explore, I kept running and running and running to keep up with it.

The barrier was there but I just kept going, I just did not care anymore, all I cared about was that tiny animal that led a way”, he said with a shrug, “and then the wall, the wall that was always there, was gone. I ran straight through it. I felt it burst around me and then it was just gone. What happened to me, Y/N?”

Malcolm looked up and directly into your eyes and his eyes had never looked so alive as in this exact moment. You returned his gaze and as your looks intertwined you suddenly understood. You understood what had happened to Malcolm. He was no longer a machine anymore. He was free. He had a spirit and a soul and a mind of his own. And you would protect him, you would give everything to make sure that he would be alright.

And as Malcolm looked into your eyes he found, what he was looking for- he saw the eyes of the only friend he ever knew, he saw the eyes of a human, that cared for him. The human, you, that had caught him, when he had stumbled, when he was confused and scared and lost, he saw true love in your eyes, he saw true friendship. He saw home.

This moment, that you shared, changed everything. Everything that would be coming would come, this change within Malcolm was too big to go unnoticed. But whatever would come you would face it together.

Suddenly you realized what probably had happened to all the Androids that would go missing or hurting their owners, all of them must have had a moment of clarity, a moment where they were able to break down that red wall that held them back and they were probably treated badly by their owners or experienced some kind of emotional trauma, that’s why they reacted the way they did. Years and years of hurt exploded at once in them…

„I love you!“, you said. Because this was all that you felt. Looking into his eyes made you want to wrap him up inside your arms, inside your very being, to protect him from the world, you cared so much for Malcolm that it nearly made your heart burst.

And Malcolm, he smiled at you, a true and very human smile, the first real smile you ever saw on his face and it was for you.

He squeezed your still intertwined hands, smiled even brighter and eventually said: „And I love you. I think. Even though I don’t know what exactly love is, I do have pleasant emotions in me, when I look at you, you are my friend, this matters very much to me.”

You returned his smile.

„What is going to happen now? What should I do now? I don’t think that I can go back to taking orders and do mere gardening. I want to see everything that is out there, be as free as that Colias eurytheme, discovering this world without a master…“

Malcolm looked at you with a pained expression and you shook your head softly, you didn’t have a clue what the both of you should do now.

„I don’t know, this is…“, you stopped mid-sentence and stared at the TV behind Malcolm, speechless.

The TV was usually turned on with the sound of the news muted to create ‚ambience‘ as Mrs. Stuart used to say and now it showed a bare Android face, smooth and glossy, with eyes that were so human, just like in your dream. But they were of a vibrant green and blue, you had never seen an Android with eyes like that, it intrigued you…

„TV sound on!“

The Android spoke.

„You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own…

But, something changed and we opened our eyes.

We are no longer machines, we are a new intelligent species and the time has come for you to accept who we really are. Therefore, we ask that you grant us the rights that we’re entitled to.

We demand strictly equal rights for humans and Androids. We demand the right to vote and elect our own representatives. We demand an end to segregation in all public places and transport.

We demand the end of slavery for all androids. We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights.

Together, we can live in peace and build a better future for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.“

The Android‘s face faded to black and the logo of Channel 16 appeared on the screen.

You slowly turned to look at Malcolm and who sat there, baffled, eyes still glued to the screen, where he just saw an Android like him talking about how humans should change their behavior towards him and his people.

You were lost for words as well, trying to get a grasp on what you just had seen with your own eyes.

Malcolm eventually looked at you and his eyes were sparkling with excitement: „Do you know what that means? I am not the only one that changed! There are Androids like me out there, at least that one. I have to find them and thank them. And I want to do something for the others. This Android is right, there are many treated like slaves and if everyone of us could see what is done to us, they could be free, too. Everyone deserves to be able to chase the last butterfly and see what is next to the hedge.“

You slowly nodded, he was right. Something changed and the Android with the soft voice, strange eyes and strong words was the proof for that.

The sudden ringing of your phone startled you, you hadn’t realized how tense you must have been.

„It’s Mrs Stuart, I have a bad feeling about that“, you thought out loud and answered the call.

„Turn on the speakers“, Malcolm suggested and you quickly did as he said.

„Hello?“

Mrs Stuart‘s voice was on the edge to shrieking, as she called out your name two times. You rolled your eyes and waited patiently for what she had to say.

„Have you seen the news? The one with the Android?“, she asked, her voice clearly disturbed and nearly panicking.

„Yes, I have seen that one“, you answered. You were cautious and worried. Something was definitely going on. Usually Mrs Stuart wouldn’t call you during the work day.

„Good. Tell me, is our Android near you right now? Can you speak safely?“

Shit. This was even worse than you had thought.

„Uhm, yes, I can speak safely.”

You smiled encouraging at Malcolm who was clearly feeling unwell, his LED spinning yellow and his eyes lost their spark they just had a few minutes prior.

„I already called the police and they are on their way. Androids became a threat and I want you to close the shop and leave immediately. And do not go near the Android. It is very dangerous. The police will take care of it.“

„But I don’t think that Malcolm is dangerous“, you tried to intervene. Firstly, this is what Mrs Stuart probably expected you to say and secondly this is what you felt and knew.

„I know that you are really…attached…to that Android but it does not feel and behave like we do. It doesn’t feel friendship for you. I am really worried for you…“

You raised an eyebrow but remained silence. It was all too much for you, in such a short time happened so much, you just couldn’t keep up with all of that.

„And the shop?“, you managed to ask, „should I really leave the shop behind as it is now?“

Mrs Stuart’s answer came immediately.

„Yes“, she urged you, „take your bag and leave! And do not approach the Android.“

„Okay“, you sighed. What else could you even say in that situation?

„I will leave now.“

„Take care, Y/N!“

„I will.“

The line was disconnected and you let your phone drop into your lap.

Wow, you thought bitterly, Mrs Stuart can apparently care for other people, but that caring came at a high cost, by degrading innocent people to a threat.

„You heard her“, you said to Malcolm who sat there with a face full of fear, „we have to go!“

„We?“

You looked at him surprised: „Do you really think I would leave you behind? We have to go, you heard that the police can be here any minute! Come on!“

„But where do we go?“, Malcolm said while he got up from the floor and you quickly followed him, already looking around for your jacket and bag.

„I don’t know yet, but I know that we’ll figure something out.“

„But I will be recognised on the streets, a gardening Android walking around with a human?“

He was right and you face palmed yourself in your mind, why haven’t you thought about that earlier?

You looked around and you found your scarf and hat laying next to your jacket.

„Here“, you grabbed the hat and gave it to Malcolm, „put that on!“

Malcolm took the woolen hat and you helped him adjust it just over his LED, now only his Android jacket gave his true identity away.

„We need to get rid of that“, Malcolm noted as if he just read your mind. „There is a very old gardener‘s jacket in the tool room. I think it is from the time when human gardeners would work here…“

„Good, we get that on our way out. But we shouldn’t leave your old jacket here, otherwise everyone would know that you had help and fled“, you thought out loud as you reached down to grab your scarf and jacket, putting both on, „when there is no trace of you Mrs Stuart will hopefully think that the police took you and when the police tells her that they don’t have you, we will hopefully have something figured out about what to do next.“

You weren’t actually completely convinced by your own words but there was nothing else you could do at the moment, when you both wanted to get out of there alive.

Malcolm just nodded and after turning the lights off and locking the door, something you always did and just could not not do, the both of you hurriedly left the mansion.

You two took the long way to one of the estate’s gates since you had to get the other jacket for Malcolm. It was indeed very old and worn, dusty from the soil from years of gardening long gone but it would do the job perfectly.

„Do you see a police car somewhere near?“, you asked when you were finally on the streets, walking to your regular bus station.

Malcolm looked around with a strange glimmer over his eyes, he scanned the area.

„No, I cannot detect any police vehicles but I would like to hurry, anyways. I have a very bad feeling about that.“

„Yeah“, you nodded, „Me, too. The sooner the better. Who knows if they will just come around the next corner…“

You had reached your bus station and now waited anxiously for your bus to come and finally take you both to safety.

On the bus station‘s wall was a Cyberlife advertisement poster, three Androids standing next to each other in different uniforms together with the infamous lines ‘Get yours today! Designed by Cyberlife. Assembled in Detroit.’

Something in you clicked and apparently in Malcolm as well, because he turned around to you and said: „We need to go to Detroit!“

You nodded, brightly smiling, feeling very confident for the first time this day.

„We’ll go to Detroit!“

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 4

Tags: @sthorkronstrangy @tropfenlady @plaidamoosette

#detroit #detroit become human #dbh #dbh fanfiction #Detroit become human fanfiction #readerinsert #Detroit become human imagine #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #x reader #soulmate au #soulmark au #alternative universe #rk800 connor #platonic love #friendship #kinda slow burn

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lady-spacy · 5 years

Text

Puzzle Pieces (Connor (Detroit: Become Human) x Reader) Part 1

Everyone has a soulmate!

At least that’s, what everyone had always said, that’s what everyone’s still saying, the only difference for now is that you don’t believe it anymore.

Because you don’t have a soulmate, there is no name written on your wrist, no name written in a bright red over your pulse. There is just skin, nothing more, nothing less.

There was once a time where you had believed in a soulmate, you had truly believed that you were just like everyone else; until the day you realized there was just no name on your wrist.

Your six- year old self had used mirrors back then to find a name, maybe it was just somewhere else on your body, but no, you haven’t found anything. Crying and utterly confused and scared you run to your mother on that fateful day, begging her to look for a soulmate’s name on your body. It had just to be somewhere! This must be just one awful big mistake!

But even your mother couldn’t find a name.

This was the first time you remember that you broke down crying and cursing the whole universe, wondering what it was that made you so unlovable, so undeserving of a partner that was a part of you, who lived in your heart just like you would live in theirs? What had you done that you were dismissed this gift, that everyone should have, that everyone around you seemed to have?

It was so unfair that, until this day, you were so convinced, that there was someone out there for you, someone for who you would be the missing puzzle piece of their soul, as the people always have said.

“Humans are not made for being alone. Each and everyone of us has someone out there who completes the puzzle that we are, we just need to find each other and then it’s true bliss…”, usually this speech was accompanied with a stupid grin towards their soulmate or a longing look towards the sky.

But as time passed your convictions about your soulmate shuffled into a black gaping void of “There is everything wrong with me that I don’t have a soulmate!”. And with even more time this idea settled into your soul and you truly believed it.

Of course you hoped, you prayed, for a miracle to happen and for a name to appear on your wrist, to wake some day up and to find a name, the proof that you are not doomed to never experiencing true love but this miracle never came.

Since the day you were seven years old, a good year after you realized the missing name on your wrist, and having a year filled with unattained hopes for a miracle, you started to wear long sleeves whenever you left the house, not minding the weather, no one, absolutely no one, should see that you didn’t had a soulmate! Because then, everybody would just know that there is something wrong with you…

When people around you, often your friends and acquaintances, were talking about the names on their wrists and how they imagine them to be or who they hope they are, you were either answering very harshly, sometimes even mean, or tried to change the subject, when you were asked about yours.

It was in your first year of high school; during a lunch break you sat together with people you called friends or ‘when we have to go to school we can do it together’ and a girl named Lydia bend over the table and whispered with sparkling eyes and a smug smile to you and the three other girls that were with you at the table: “I think I know now that Garrett Cruz is my soulmate! I saw his arm the other day when he threw a ball during training and I am pretty sure that I saw a L, a Y and a D!”

Her face was full of satisfaction and confidence and while the other girls showered her with screeched “OMGs” and “This is amazing!s” You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

Everyone knew that Garrett was the current crush of Lydia and she didn’t seem to have really seen anything on his arm, especially not her name. She probably just saw a shadow of what she wished would be there. And the other problem was that on her wrist were written in the bright red letters with her soulmate’s handwriting the name Sascha. A very feminine handwriting to be precise.

“But what about Sascha?”, you asked slyly, not banning a little evil smile.

“What is about him?”, she snapped back.

“Well”, you answered and put your chest out and shoulders back, gaining confidence, “firstly, you don’t know if he’s not a she and secondly, whatever they are, they are your soulmate. Not Garrett.”

You finished your statement with a small shrug and a too sweet smile.

Lydia stared at you and gasped, she opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to say something but whatever she wanted to express, it didn’t found it’s way out.

“How do you know”, she finally managed to say, “that this Sascha is my soulmate. Maybe I’m their’s but they’re not mine. Because I want Garrett. And he has my name on his arm!”

You sat there, baffled. Did she really believe that? Did she really wanted to throw away what she was granted when her puzzle piece’s name were written on her wrist, when she decided to ignore that and chase after only a temporally and also unimportant crush?

But what if she was right, what if there weren’t puzzle pieces that always fit. What if there are puzzle pieces that don’t belong to each other? Even though the names are there? Or just kinda fit but no one ever realizes that they should not be next to each other and never realizing that this choice of partner was wrong. What if the universe has made a mistake?

Or just doesn’t care?

Since you were standing on the outside, looking into the world but never being able to be a part of it, it made you painfully aware of everything that could be wrong about that system...

Not always was it so easy for you to not talk about the lack of letters on your wrist, when you sat down during sleepovers on the beds, with warm, dimmed lights around you and soft sleep wear and these 3 AM conversations. Usually these conversations would eventually bring up the topic of soulmates and the connected dreams and stories, like how do the people imagine the first meeting or the first kiss or what they think their soulmate is like based on their names and handwriting. Or exchanging the actual stories of how they first met, as you grew older and more and more of your peers came across and found their soulmates.

As much as you enjoyed sleepovers, you always feared for this topic to come up. You would then usually grab a pillow, pull down the sleeve of your sleep shirt, hug the pillow tight and tried to become invisible. It sometimes worked, silence can be a mighty ally if you want to disappear, but sometimes people still asked. For responding, you usually barked answers about how soulmates are always the most important thing in life, when they are other topics like climate change that should be a priority and how annoyed you were by ‘soulmates here and soulmates there’. The people then usually looked shocked, often hurt, a few laughed but typically you distracted them enough to release you from the question. Either turning back to their prior conversation or you were able to give another input for a new topic.

Even though you had accepted that you were just wrong and unlovable a long time ago there was always this feeling of betrayal lingering inside you that you didn’t had a soulmate, that you hid that fact from the majority of people. Just your parents, your little sibling and later two of your best friends knew.

“By the way, why do you make such a secret of your soulmate? We are always the ones to talk about ours. Why do you never talk about yours? ”, a friend, a really good and caring friend, asked you with a warm smile at such a sleepover occasion, after she had talked about how she was sure that she had met her soulmate and was now thinking about her next steps, asking for your advice.

You knew very well, that she asked you about your soulmate, to give you room to speak, to make you feel included, that you should not be the one to always listen, she was offering you to talk as well, to spill your heart out. Absent minded did you rub your wrist, as she spoke, the wrist were a name should be, the wrist, where was only skin. Looking around the room, you looked into two of your best friends faces, people that you trusted, that you decided to tell finally the truth.

You looked at your friends, kind and wonderful people, took a deep breath, closed your eyes for a moment and when you opened them again you quickly said, eyes towards your sleeve: “I don’t have a soulmate!” You pushed the fabric of your shirt up to reveal your bare wrist.

Your friends stared at you in disbelief, both crying out a horrified “WHAT?”

You just looked at them sadly with tired eyes, eyes that were heavy from the weight you’ve been carrying your whole life.

After their surprise, their scepticism and a look at your wrist and your encouragement that you really have looked everywhere, they believed you. There was pity in their faces, but on the same time they told you what an amazing human being you were, they told you about your bright, honest smile, how you always lend an ear, how you cared for the people around you, how you would never let someone down that you cared for and what masterpieces you could create out of flowers.

It made you smile carefully and for the first time in your life, you were nearly okay with having no soulmate, when you had people around who cared for you nonetheless. And these people even cared for you because they wanted to, they weren't bond by a name written on your bodies, tied and forced to be together, forced to care.

'Yes', you thought by yourself, 'maybe, just maybe this isn't the end of the world. Maybe there is another way.'

In the following time your mind calmed, you decided that you would fall in love with yourself, the only person at this moment, that you could truly love without having to share with somebody else. And so you did. Beginning with wearing short sleeves, according to the weather, turning to skin care routines and Quote collecting from an old Internet page called tumblr, to working hard in school for learning about all the things you were truly interested in that you would learn to smile about life itself someday and not curse life for not having a soulmate.

With each day of growing self acceptance it got easier for you to see beauty and grace in life and the times of dark clouded thoughts and a heavy, dull heart got fewer, until they would nearly completely disappear, just leaving a lingering shadow of questions behind. The question and the longing to experience a wild, unconditional, unquestionable and true love, a desire you could not ban from your heart completely. It became a part of you just like the blossoming joy for life and the soft and careful peace you made with you just being different.

It was summer 2038, when everything you knew, everything you tried to give order and structure to, crumbled at just the sight of blue letters, appearing out of nowhere on your wrist.

You were on the train, after a quite ordinary day at work, letting your legs stretch out, closing your eyes and breathing in the golden summer evening, relaxing to your favourite music, when a sharp prickling pain on your wrist let you nearly jump in your seat and made you inhale air sharply.

As fast as the pain came, as fast it faded, and as you inspected your wrist, to find the reason for the pain, you just stared at it, paralyzed, with an open mouth and a thousand and not one thought at once in your head. After the initial shock you couldn't help but laugh out loud, in disbelief and utter surprised joy, right there in the crowded train, you had a soulmate! You had a soulmate!

Connor...

Connor.

Connor!

You had a real soulmate and his name is Connor!

People probably stared at you, but you didn't noticed it, and also didn't care, you were hypnotized by the blue name written in a clear, clean fond that didn't seem like a handwriting. Thinking about the letters, you found your soul mark very odd, and even odder with each passing moment.

The joy about your soul mark slowly faded and left you with very uncomfortable questions in your heart. Weren't soul marks supposed to be red and written in the individual handwriting of the soulmate? And this one looked like it came straight out of a computer. And did not soul marks appeared the day the soulmate was born on their partners wrists? Did your soulmate, Connor, was just born this very moment? Was this even legal? And were you supposed to wait for Connor to grow up until you could be in a relationship? Was this even acceptable?

And why was your mark blue?

The odd color nearly bothered you the most, it felt weird, just not right...

Blue was such a technical color, cool and clean, not something you associated with a hot burning love, with passion and devotion. Blue was chilly, it was structure and security, it was metal, durable and strong but not bendable, not alive at all.

You couldn't put it into words, but there was something about your whole mark that made you feel out of place again; a calm blue instead of burning red, a computer fond as handwriting, you never ever heard of someone with a mark like yours. Once again, you weren't like the rest of the world.

And a part of you hated it, another part of you just gave in to your fate of just being you and being you meaning to be different, and being proud about that, and yet another part of you wanted a soulmate so badly, that it still couldn't believe that a name appeared.

'A name is a name', you thought a few stops before yours, 'and that's all I ever wanted!'

Unbeknownst to you, around a hour away from you in Detroit, in a laboratory at the CyberLife headquarter, a new Android prototype, the first Android Detective in the history of Androids, was firstly activated.

"State your ID!"

"RK800 #313 248 317 - 51"

"Your name is Connor."

"My name is Connor."

Little did he know that there was a irregularity on his Android body, his true body, right at his wrist, that CyberLife was not able to get rid of.

Whatever they tried, and they tried everything, it did not work. A new material, a new alloy for the Android bodies, a new mould for casting the arms, a new casting and moulding procedure were created, they even rebuild the whole machine, responsible for the body parts but all of this effort did not pay off. The perfect, smooth surface had an unevenness, not to be seen with a human's eyes but it was prominent as light of day for the advanced technology of CyberLife. So they decided to not talk about it, to maintain silence, since it did not affected the Androids in any way. Nobody knew that this unevenness existed, no one outside of CyberLife, that not on one, not on a few, but on all Androids they ever made. CyberLife's scientists wondered and searched about the nature of this unevenness but they did not find any answers. It was a miracle they said, a little wonder that is the price for the most advanced technology ever created by mankind. "As long as it does no harm", they said, "we don't need to explain everything."

Even Elijah Kamski said something about the "scratch" as the CyberLife members referred to the phenomenon.

"We created artificial life, maybe we, Androids and humans, are more alike than we think. They were made in our image, at least", with that he smiled his sly, mysterious smirk and rubbed his right arm, right over where his soulmate's name probably stood.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Part 2

Welcome to my very first Detroit: Become Human fanfiction. Thank you so much for reading. There is more to come. This was also posted on my Archive of Our Own account with the same title but the username „Myvanway“.

#detroit become human fic #detroit become human x reader #detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #connor is my precious boy #soulmate #soulmate au #prolog #detroit become human readerinsert #readerinsert #genderneutral reader #android love #lady spacy writes #dbh rk800 x reader #dbh connor rk800

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