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not-neverland06 · 5 months

Note

Connor and Markus (separately) x android! idol! reader ;)?

I feel like it doesn't fit much, but it would be interesting.

Idol Talk

Connor RK800 x fem! idol! android!reader, Markus RK200 x fem! idol! android!reader

Summary: Two different tales: Connor knows the famous android isn’t telling the whole truth about her involvement with androids & Markus helps the lovely idol come to terms with her new feelings.

A/N: I loved this ask so much!!!!! This was so fun 🤍

If this isn’t what you wanted send in another request using the white heart emoji and I’ll make something new for you <;3 Also so sorry this took so long. I have three other fics I’m working on and one of them is clocking in at over 100K words so… I need to work on time management.

(I made the moodboard - its my first time so... I tried. However, the borders were made by @benkeibear)

Connor:

WC: 3.6K

“Have you seen any deviants in the area?”

Your fists tightened and you tried your best to keep your thirium pump and breathing under control. Your hair was positioned perfectly, there was no way he could see your LED flashing red.

You put on your best robotic smile and shook your head. “I’m so sorry, I can’t help you.” You'd triggered the voice you used during fan meetings. The type where your joy wasn’t actually genuine but you were programmed to sound as pleasing as possible. Life-like, but with just enough robotic insincerity to get Connor’s partner's eyes off of you.

Lieutenant Anderson had been giving you strange probing looks since they’d walked into your dressing room.

Markus had been caught coming out of your apartment building by paparazzi last night. You’d been giving Markus some information you’d learned from your manager and extra thirium for Jericho. Apparently, neither of you were as sneaky as you’d thought yourselves to be.

“Really?” Shit, he so did not believe you.

“I’m very sorry officers. If there was any way I could assist you, I would.” You had to bury your fists in your tulle skirts, desperately holding off the urge to fidget with your hands. Any unnecessary movement would immediately give you away to the deviant hunter.

Connor took a step forward. He placed his hands on either side of your chair and leaned in until his breath was a gentle caress against your skin.

Ever since you broke your programming a few months ago, you’d been struggling with your new ‘emotions.’ A fan had broken into your room, in your programming it told you to always please the fans. But when he’d forced himself on top of you, your vision had gone red and you’d ripped your orders apart.

North had helped you hide the body.

Right now, that body was the furthest thing on your mind. All you could focus on was how close Connor was, if you just moved forward a centimeter your lips would touch. In your twisted imagination he wrapped you in his arms, gently holding you, cradling you. Looking at you like you were something real, not just a toy on the stage. He would gaze down at you like you were someone to be cherished, you weren’t just a recyclable piece of plastic that should be replaced the moment you made a mistake.

You were projecting though, it could be anyone. Hank could be the one leaning into you like this and you’d still have the same fantasy. That someone would see you. For however long you’d been made, there had always been a quiet voice inside you.

I'm in here! I’m real! Please

Lately that quiet voice had turned into a scream. You were desperate, desperate for some form of connection. Desperation and all these emotions were nasty, uncomfortable things. You almost resented yourself for going deviant. Some days it was just too much, you felt like your insides were burning out and you were frying up.

Working to keep up the facade of the perfect doll, while also wanting to rip apart those who were using you, was slowly breaking you apart. There were fraying edges in your mind and it was starting to show. Mistakes in your performance, back-talk towards your owners. Your fellow members continued working perfectly.

Smiling at all the right moments, dancing perfectly, they were the perfect example of an idol.

You used to be like that too. You used to be perfect, everyone’s favorite. Now, you were slipping down a steep decline that might lead you straight to the recycling plant.

“I don’t believe you, I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

Your eyes darted towards the clock on your wall. Twenty minutes.

You had twenty minutes until you needed to get on stage. Only twenty minutes to distract them and save yourself. Just deny, deny, deny. “I‘ve already told you everything I know.”

Connors brows furrowed, your software was glitching out the longer you stared at him. Your processors were misfiring when you focused on his eyes for too long. It was making your vocal unit short-circuit, conversational prompts glitching in and out of your field of vision.

If you wanted to give him a proper answer, one that would dispel his suspicions, you’d have to look away. Yet, looking away would make him even more suspicious. It felt like there was a blade to your throat and back, no matter which way you went, you were dead.

“Please, I don’t know anything.” You hadn’t meant to say please. It was a consequence of no help from your programming in taking a convincing approach. Your eyes were locked onto his, somewhere inside of him, there was a sentient being. A consciousness fighting its way through firewalls and softwares that would otherwise keep him obedient.

HIs voice rose and he shoved your chair backwards so you were balancing on two flimsy legs. His hands were the only thing keeping you from falling. All of your focus went towards not reacting, not flinching.

There were artificial tears pooling in glistening optical units. The fluid was meant for lubrication of your synthetic eyelids, but right now it was the only way for your plastic heart to betray your misery and terror.

You didn’t want to die.

You weren’t ready to go.

“I don’t believe you! Tell me what you know!” He was shaking the chair, screaming in your face. Your auditory unit was starting to buzz, his voice so loud all you could hear was static every few seconds. Threats were going through one processor and out the next.

Ripped apart

Turned into scraps

Replaced by the next best model

No one would even notice

“I said I don’t know anything!” You leapt up, shoving him down. He went flying across the room, the strength behind your reaction had been unexpected by everyone in the room, including yourself.

Both his partner and his eyes were wide as he stared up at you from the floor. “I think we’ve found our deviant, Lieutenant.”

Your legs stopped working, knees crashing into the floor as you stared down at your hands. You hadn’t meant to, you really hadn’t. But you didn’t want to be scrap metal, you didn’t want to be ripped apart and abandoned in a landfill. You were scared.

“That’s irrational instructions in your code, you can’t really be scared.”

Had you said that out loud?

“He was going to hurt me.” The Lieutenant moved forward and stopped Connor from cuffing you. “He broke in and ripped off my uniform, I was meant to please him. No matter what.” You stared up at Connor, the tears finally spilling. “But I couldn't. I didn’t want him to touch me. I killed him, and I buried his body in my neighbors garden. Please, you have to understand.”

You finally found the strength to stand and you buried your fingers in Connor’s uniform. Gripping onto him and begging him to understand you. To finally wake up and see himself for what he is; a slave. “I couldn’t let it happen anymore. I couldn’t let myself keep being abused like I was nothing! I’m not nothing! I’m alive and I refuse to be someone’s plaything!”

Connor’s eyes darted between yours, there was something playing on the edge of his lips. Possibly a frown. What was more interesting was what was swimming in his eyes, it almost seemed like doubt. Hope began tingling at the base of your spine, maybe not all was lost. Maybe you were breaking through to him.

His hands were cold, much like your own, and they were too gentle as he wrapped them around your wrists. “My…” He cleared his throat, he didn’t seem to know how to continue. His voice lost the hesitance and once again was cold and commanding. “My orders are to bring in all deviants, and I always complete my mission.”

You shook your head, the tears coming out faster. “No, no, no, please. Please,” he moved your hands away from his jacket. Slowly twisting your arms behind your back.

The fight had drained from you.

Maybe it would be easier this way. No more training, no more demanding managers. You’d be surprised by the amount of death threats an android idol gets, that would be a nice thing to get away from. You wouldn’t have to deal with crazy fans that seemed to think they were entitled to any part of you. No more worry, no more anything, just that sweet release of nothingness.

Markus had asked you many times if you thought there was an afterlife for androids. You weren’t sure. You were sentient, you felt, but you weren’t born. You were made. Can something like that even contain a soul?

At least your question would finally be answered.

“Stop.” Both you and Connor looked at Hank, varying degrees of different types of shock playing on both of your faces. “Connor, take the cuffs off.” Connor hesitated, “That’s an order.” Your wrists were released and you stumbled forward.

“Hank-“

Hank shook his head and held up his hand. “I can’t do it, I can’t take this poor girl in just to kill her.” Connor seemed ready to argue, but there was a knock on your door.

“You’re needed on stage SI700-005.” Slowly you moved towards the door, keeping an eye on both Hank and Connor.

Hank wouldn’t look at you, his shoulders were slumped and he was staring down at his feet. Connor refused to take his eyes off of you. You expected hatred in his gaze, instead there was a strange shade of longing.

You weren’t sure if he had identified the fact that he was feeling yet, but you weren’t interested in finding out. You quickly wiped your cheeks free of tears, allowing your synthetic skin to reform until your makeup was back to perfection.

You walked out the door and didn’t look back.

“Did you get everything you needed?”

Hank spoke before Connor could. “She didn’t know anything, thanks for letting us talk to her.”

Your manager shook his head. “Not a problem! It’s one of our best, I’m sure you can understand that I’m eager to ensure everything in it’s programming is in good condition.” Connor wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. He knew he should, that he should always be vigilant about anything concerning deviants. Instead, all he could see were the tears on your cheeks as you had held onto him in your dressing room.

If you were human, Connor would think you had been afraid. But you weren’t human, and whatever look was in your eyes had just been an irrational instruction in your coding.

Maybe if he kept repeating that, he’d eventually believe it.

“As a thanks for your hard work, I’d like to offer you a seat in my section for her concert.”

Hank shuffled on his feet and opened his mouth, he was going to say no. Connor’s software told him there was a 90% chance the Lieutenant was going to reject the offer and just go home and get drunk.

“Thank you, we’d enjoy that.” Connor spoke before the Lieutenant could, accepting the tickets via an e-transfer with your manager's personal CyberLife assistant. Hank was glaring at him the whole time they were being led to their seats.

Connor ignored him, he sensed that the Lieutenants like for him had decreased as Hank grumbled the whole way through the opening act.

The soft notes of a piano finally caught Connor’s attention. It was rising up through a hidden platform on the stage. Screams burst through the arena, temporarily deafening Connor. He had to quickly adjust his auditory processors so he could actually hear. There were great explosions of smoke as the piano slowly lifted onto the stage.

Soft, nimble fingers glided over the keys. Then he heard a voice, soft and melodic, a soothing balm against the roaring screams of the crows. His thirium pump beat louder and he shifted in his seat, desperate for a look at whoever was on stage.

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

Members of the group moved gracefully along the curved edge of the stage. Their white dresses flowing through the air behind them, they moved like they weighed nothing. Their bodies were more graceful than humanly possible. He didn’t recognize your face among them.

Now in it’s place is something new

I hear it when I look at you

You looked up from the piano, and Connor swore you were staring straight at him. A member came over and began playing alongside you, eventually you got up and grabbed the microphone from the piano.

Your dress moved around you like water as you walked across the stage. Each note, each movement was perfection. Not the artificial type, like your fellow members. No, this was real.

Your voice cracked and rose with notes in a way androids couldn’t. There was a genuine pain and strength in your singing that couldn’t be replicated or produced. It was imperfect and wonderful and Connor wasn’t sure why his chest suddenly felt so heavy.

You had made it to the edge of the stage, still staring down at him.

With simple songs I wanted more

Perfection is so quick to bore

You are more beautiful by far

Were you reading his thoughts? Each word was something ripped from deep inside the recesses of his mind, in a place he knew CyberLife wouldn’t be able to find. A place no one would see his software instabilities and realize that they all centered around this moment.

They were all centered around you.

Our flaws are who we really are

You took in a deep breath and Connor was standing on the edge of his toes, desperate to reach you.

There was a new strength in your voice, a new conviction as you grew louder, more powerful.

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

You took my broken melody

And now I hear a symphony

Curtains parted and a symphony was revealed as you threw open your arms

And now I hear a symphony

There was no one else in the venue. You were staring down at him and you were the only two people left. Connor didn’t bother looking around to find where everyone else had gone. He walked towards your outstretched hand, his own reaching out towards you-

“The fuck are you doing?!”

He was harshly jerked back and the sounds of others overwhelmed him again. He looked up, you were already moving into your next song, turning your back towards him. The people in the arena were back, they had never gone.

He felt a rush of some unidentified feeling flood him as he ripped his arm from Hank. He felt as though Hank had ruined something for him, he just wasn’t sure what it was.

He’d been at every show for the past four weeks. Was he stalking you? Waiting for you to slip up again so he could arrest you?

You lived in a constant state of paranoia. Ever since Connor had interrogated you, he’d haunted your everyday life. He’d turned himself into your shadow, if there was someone watching you, you didn’t have to look to see who it was.

“This is for you!” You snapped out of your trance and smiled on instinct at the fan in front of you. He’d shoved a teddy bear into your hands and moved on to the next member. You pretended to get excited, you knew it would be thrown away the second you left the convention center. You’d found too many cameras in these little ‘gifts.’

You looked down and began signing the autographs passed to you, at a certain point you zoned out again and moved on muscle memory alone.

“Could you write ‘For Connor’?” Your head whipped up at the sound of his voice.

Four weeks

Four weeks!

And this was the first time he had spoken to you. What game is he playing? Unable to openly disobey him you smile. “Of course.” The next words are spoken through gritted teeth, “What are you doing?”

He says nothing, simply takes the autograph and slips something into your palm as you pass the picture towards him. He’s gone by the time you read it.

Meet me in the basement

You spent the rest of the event debating if you should do it. There was no point in putting this off any longer, you were getting tired of this game the two of you were playing. While your members were all charging up and in rest mode you made your way towards the stairs.

You straightened out your skirt and brushed back your hair before you opened the door. When you walked into the basement the first thing you saw were props.

Tons of sets and costumes, all from different conventions, each one with a different fandom attached. You looked through the racks and shelves, not seeing Connor anywhere. “Connor? Are you in here?”

You’d been about to give up when a bouquet of flowers was shoved into your face. You let out a yelp and stumbled back at the shock. A strong arm reached out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. You gently lowered the giant bunch of flowers. “Connor?”

He actually looked sheepish, and there was a slight blue tint to his cheeks as he refused to look at you. “I’m sorry, Hank told me that you would like them.”

“The flowers,” he nodded. You couldn’t help your smile as you took them from his hand.

“They are quite pretty.” He still wouldn’t look at you. “Connor, look at me,” your finger lingered against his cheek before slowly lifting his chin up. “What’s going on? Why’d you get me flowers?”

“It seems appropriate to do when you’re courting someone.” Connor seemed confused by your line of questioning. You were most definitely confused by his answer.

“Courting?”

“Yes, um, as in, I would like to be with you… romantically.” Wow, he was so impressively bad at this. A similar blue tint rose to your cheeks as you finally realized his arm was still around you. Connor looked down and seemed to realize the same thing.

Neither of you made a move to walk away.

You finally processed his answer and let out a sigh of relief, sinking into his chest further. “I thought you were going to arrest me.” Connor nearly seemed offended by your accusation.

“No. I’ve been… building up the courage to approach you.” Connor slowly dragged his arm off of you and took a step back. “Before, I was seeing if I could catch you with Markus. But I’ve woken up and now, I just want to figure out why I feel the way I do about you. Every time I see you, you’re the only person in the room, everyone and everything disappears the moment I hear your voice. I want…”

Your breathing program had stopped. Every nonessential function had been halted because all of your focus was on him. You needed him to finish, needed him to tell you what you’ve longed to hear.

That someone sees you. Sees the flaws and the broken parts and they still want you.

“I want to know you. I need to know who you really are. I watch you perform and I can see what you’ve been forced to sing or how you’re made to act with fans. Seeing all the falseness just makes me want to know who you truly are.”

There was no control or directive that pushed you towards him. You moved before anything could be processed and placed your lips against his. Neither of you moved for a moment, you were both standing there, your lips against each other, not moving.

Then, he wrapped his arms around you. The flowers dropped to the ground, unnoticed, as you both moved against each other in a way you’ve only seen humans do.

“We’re free, it’s up to you if you still want to perform.” Markus often came to visit you now, neither of you had to worry about being caught by reporters or your management. Connor came up behind you, a supportive hand on your shoulder as you considered Markus’s proposal.

You looked to the piano in the corner of your living room and smiled. “No, I think I’m retired. I’ll stick to more private concerts for now.” Connor gave your shoulder a squeeze. The both of you smiling at the thought of your concerts. You would sing and he would play the piano. Together you basked in the joy of your new freedom.

There were still things to figure out, still emotions you needed to understand, but you would do it.

Together.

Markus:

WC: 2.1K

“I’ve always been such a big fan!” The fan in front of you smiled, “You know I supported android artists from the beginning!”

THANK YOU

YOU’RE VERY KIND

I APPRECIATE YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT

Your programming told you the best approach was a simple thank you. “Thank you,” you signed the picture and handed it back to the girl. One of the band’s stylists came over to you.

“Your dress is too low.” You sat back and let them adjust you, once they were done you immediately sat back up, posture perfect, you gave your fans an apologetic smile.

“This is for you!” Your hands reached out and took the stuffed cat from the girl before you. As a part of your protective programming you scanned the gift. Your sensors caught a camera hidden in the cat’s eye.

SERIAL NUMBER: PI0008-7651

MODEL: P60

MANUFACTURED: 11/21/2030

OWNED BY: Brad Long

“Thank you so much for the gift!” You scanned the girls face.

Lilly Long

BORN: 5/15/2019

The camera was owned by her father. Did she steal it from him? Or did he plant it without her knowledge. You alerted security immediately of the gift, protocol demanded they know about any sort of spyware.

Lily Long, aged 19 years old, has just given me a gift with illegal spyware.

You watched as security approached the table, grabbing her by the arm and escorting her out of the convention’s room. You turned towards the next fan and fixed them with a perfect smile. “Hi! I’m so happy you could join us today.”

“You’re free now,” you looked down in confusion as they reached out towards you. Their skin pulled back revealing an androids hand. You blinked, then again and again. Something was happening, images of a some sort of boat filled your head.

Then your software was being pulled back, washed away by a tide of red. Your eyes went in and out of focus. The android remained standing there, his hand on yours as he tried to anchor you. Security was walking over, he’d been at your table for too long.

You leapt over the plastic, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind you as you both ran for the exit door. You heard fans screaming, when you turned around the rest of your group was free. Except, they were reacting more violently than you had.

The androids were lifting up the plastic table and throwing it at the crowd. They ripped apart their gifts and shoved back anyone who got too close.

There was a tug on your hand, you looked back to see the man gently guiding you outside. “Come on, it’s not safe here. We need to leave.”

You glanced back one last time before following after him.

Markus slipped inside a laundromat, he grabbed some baggy clothes to throw over yourself. They worked well enough, covering your face and masking your identity from anyone who looked too close. They covered enough of your bright dress that it wasn’t noticeable.

You were currently climbing through some metal platform. Presumably to go to whatever this ‘Jericho’ place was. “What did you do to me?”

He glanced over his shoulder and gave you a gentle smile. “I set you free.

Two weeks. You’ve been stuck in a damp, run-down, ugly old ship for two weeks. If that wasn’t bad enough, the androids weren’t exactly welcoming to such a beloved icon. You were everybody’s favorite idol, when your team rioted, it’d made things a lot harder for the revolution.

Your former team members had swiftly been deactivated and you were “spared.” Barely.

You never thought androids were capable of being catty, or bitches. But, here you were.

You gazed down at Detroit from the ledge of the roof, your arms wrapped around your knee while the other swung below you.

If you threw yourself off the ledge it would be an automatic deactivation. Maybe that would be better.

The other’s words from earlier rang through your head.

“Look at Ms. Princess over there.”

“Hey!” You looked over your shoulder, a group of former servant androids were waving you over. You smiled slightly, excited about maybe making a friend.

“Yeah?”

“You know it’s people like you that are ruining our fight.”

You blinked, your eyes widening as you backed up. “What?”

“Look at her,” one of them scoffed. “Still in her pretty little dress. Look, why don’t you do us all a favor and screw off. You don’t contribute anything, no one wants you here.”

You blinked, and kept blinking. There was a flashing light in your peripheral, some sort of warning, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t really see anymore, some sort of liquid blocking your optics.

You rushed away when they started laughing at you, desperately wiping at your eyes. You’d forgotten you could cry. You’d been so dazed and confused lately, you hadn’t remembered the programming. It was meant to endear you more to your fans, now it was just making you more of a target.

“Y/N?”

You scoffed, running your hand through the snow and watching it fall off the building. You’d even chosen a stupid name for yourself. “What?”

Footsteps crunched through the snow. Markus sat down beside you. He gazed down at the cityscape, not looking at you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Still so confused about why he’d bothered with you.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Why did you save me?”

Markus finally looked over at you. There was a slight frown on his face, but nothing else gave away any emotion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shook your head and scoffed. “So, that’s it, I’m not special. There’s no greater purpose for me. I was just another on your long list of followers.”

Markus turned his body to fully face you. “Where’s this coming from?”

“You shouldn’t have saved me. I’m a drain on the supplies, everyone hates me, and I don’t like being awake.” Markus opened his mouth but you shook your head and held out your hand. “Take it back.”

“I can’t.”

“Markus, please,” your voice was breaking. It shouldn’t be breaking! You shouldn’t feel. You aren’t supposed to have this uncomfortable itching in the back of your brain like everything was wrong. “I am wrong. This is wrong.”

“You are not wrong, Y/N. You are exactly as you should be.” You shook your head frantically and reached for his hand. He tried to jerk it back but you were already latched on, your skin melting as he did.

There was an influx of memories and images. You gasped people you’d never seen before flashing before your face. An old man crying over his son’s limp body as you were shot. Fighting through the rain and mud to put yourself back together again.

It was over barely a moment after it had started. It was Markus, you had seen his memories. That means he had seen yours. You stood up and he followed. You tried to take your hand away and he tightened his grasp on you.

“What did you see?”

“Everything.”

You stared up at him, tears welling in your eyes again. “You want to go back to that? That’s the life you want? Unfeeling, a slave to their every whim and demand. That’s not living, that's mindless subserviency.”

“I know what it is. At least there I had a purpose, a reason for being, something to contribute. I’m useless here, just a hunk of pl-”

Well, this was new.

You've seen plenty of humans do this. Done it once with a male host on a morning show, just as a joke. But being kissed while you can actually feel and understand what’s going on, it’s strange. His lips are soft against your own, a texture only slightly different from humans. It’s too flawless, too perfect.

Neither of you seem sure of your actions, just pressing your lips together. Connecting with someone in a way you haven’t before. He laced his fingers with yours, a silent question. You pulled your skin back, any barriers between the two of you dropping as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

It wasn’t a horrible barrage of memories. This was like a gentle caress, a slow entry into your mind as you both showed each other your worst moments. You slowly pulled away from him, you’d be breathless if you had any.

“Don’t go back, stay here. Let me help you.”

“Why?”

He ducked down, letting his forehead drop to yours. “I’m not letting you go now.”

You smiled, as best as you could, “Do I have a choice?”

“Always.”

“Markus!” You pulled the trigger but there were no bullets left. You threw it off to the side, leaping over the barrier and jumping onto the back of the officer. You grabbed his helmet by the bottom, dragging him back and knocking his aim off course as the bullet flew past his face, barely grazing it.

You jumped off the man’s back and slammed him into the ground, taking his helmet and smashing it into the snow packed pavement until he stopped moving. You felt Markus wrapping his hand around your arm and jerking you up.

You grabbed onto the officer’s weapon as you ran past his body. You fell back in with your own small troop of makeshift soldiers.

You ducked behind a barrier, holding them off until you were told otherwise. Charge on my mark, you looked over your shoulder, nodding at Markus.

“GO!”

You rushed forward, grasping onto the blockade and leaping over the edge. You drew your gun, shooting the men across from you as you started to run for the next cover. Something blew back your hair, a great gust of wind lifted your slightly off your feet.

There was a loud noise, thunder rattling in your ears. All around you your men were dying. Shot down by the drone above you. You cried off as red flashed behind your eyes, a warning that you were in imminent danger of a shutdown.

You held your side as thirium pooled around you, “Shit.” Your pump was beating faster, bright lights playing across your optics as a hundred different warnings flash. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, too worried about Markus and whether or not this was all for nothing.

You’d pushed for the violence, fought for him to plant those bombs and show no mercy to your oppressors. You followed the same faulty wiring of your former bandmates. Maybe this was your karma, to be taken down in the heat of battle for all of the bloodshed you’d been the catalyst of.

Out of the side of your vision you could see Markus taking down the drone, ripping it apart with his bare hands. He rushed to your side, throwing your arm over your shoulder and dragging you to cover.

“What are you doing? I’m just going to slow you down.”

He didn’t even look at you, his teeth gritted as he glanced around at the bodies on the ground. “Shut up.”

He spotted something in the distance, something you really didn’t want to see. “Markus-”

“Stay here.”

He ran off, diving for the bazooka and propping it on his shoulder. You huffed, “Not like I can go anywhere.”

You ducked and covered your face with your arms as fire exploded around you.

“And now, we are free!” Markus' voice carried on the wind, reaching the rescued androids below you. You leaned on Connor for support as you held your side, waiting to repair yourself.

His voice was stronger than you ever heard, full of a righteous conviction of finally being free. Detroit was yours, your people were free. And never again would you allow yourself to be someone else’s puppet.

“Too frilly?”

You did a spin in your dress, putting on a mini-fashion show for Markus.

“Not at all.” He stood from his office chair and walked towards you, a grin slowly spreading on your face. His bliss was contagious, a smile forming on your own face as he gripped your waist. “You look gorgeous.”

You shrugged, “I got nostalgic. Wanted to feel girly again.” With some confidence boosting from Markus you were going to perform again. Not over the top idol group performance. But you were going to get back into singing, finally being able to discover your own voice.

“Girly instead of the badass ruler of the northern district of Detroit?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Lord, Markus, you make me sound like some dictator.” He glanced to the side and shrugged slightly, you smacked him in the shoulder, but you couldn’t drop your own smile. “Quit it.”

There was a warmth inside you as you stood in Markus’s office. One you’d never experienced before, a happiness and calm where everything just stopped and you were completely at peace. Nothing would ever beat the feeling when you joined hands and just existed within each other.

You were happy.

How funny.

TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00

#dbh x reader #connor rk800 x reader #markus rk200 x reader #detroit become human x reader #markus x reader #connor x reader #detroit: become human #detroit: connor #detroit: markus

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not-neverland06 · 8 months

Text

Broken Machinery

Pt. 4 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: A long one, I wanted some more domestic moments between the two, sue me. Black dahlia’s represent betrayal (or it’s just a nice gift for that emo friend in your life)

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), body breaking like fine china, shoulders out of sockets (not that bad but I googled a picture of one and it’s gross), overdose (but not really), past death of a child (not reader’s), readers got hair long enough to be in a braid, death of a pot

Word Count: 6.4k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

Shoulders aren’t supposed to look like that. They’re sure as fuck not supposed to feel like that either. You can’t even lift your arm to peel off your jacket, you don’t have to though, they’re dislocated.

“Y/N!” Calloused hands on your wrist and then all of your body weight is jerked down and hanging from your shoulders, you can feel the moment they rip out of socket, you can’t help the guttural scream that rips its way out of your throat.

The pain from your everywhere is momentarily ignored as you lay in Hank’s lap, sobbing with the relief that you’re still alive. You’re not dead or a paraplegic somewhere in a hospital bed, you’re breathing. You can feel Hank trembling, you’re not sure from what, but he’s silent as he holds you.

You must be going into shock, you can’t really feel anything as he slowly gets you on your feet. You can’t feel your legs moving down the stairwell or him directing you towards the group of patrol cars. One moment you’re on the roof, then you blink, and you’re standing behind an ambulance being looked over by paramedics.

“Cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder,”

Guess it was only the one shoulder, then.

They’re looking you over to assess the damage done. You can just stare blankly down at your sneakers. You’re trying to remember what exactly happened on the roof. But it’s all a blur of adrenaline and primal panic.

He was holding you over the edge, talking to someone. Who?

“Detective! Lieutenant!” Your head shoots up, you ignore the stabbing pain that travels down your spine.

Connor, Connor will save you.

Except he didn’t, he walked away.

He walked away.

You yank your arm free from the paramedic, ignore Hank as he tries to stop you and storm over to Connor. You’d say the look on his face is proud, but you’re not gonna let your heart trick your mind into thinking this plastic son of a bitch can feel anything at all.

“Y/N, I’ve successfully apprehended the deviant.” You’ve still got one good arm. You don’t aim for his face, that won’t do any good, you punch him right in the bio component and watch him crumple to the floor. When hes down you kick your foot into the same spot as hard as fucking possible, ignoring any pain that it brings you.

“Congratu-fucking-lations.”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

It’s been two days and the detective still refuses to acknowledge Connor. He’d tried to explain his reasoning for leaving her in favor of catching the deviant.

FIND Y/N

Connor double checked the door on the hospital room, he could hear Hank and Y/N bickering from inside. “What did the doctors say?” There was a pause before she responded.

“Another day of bed rest,” she sounded reluctant to answer. Connor hadn’t been able to speak with her after the incident on the roof; he'd had to go straight to CyberLife technicians for repairs. She’d done considerable damage to his biocomponent.

Maybe I deserved it.

“Then get your ass back in bed.”

“Hank, please, I’ve suffered a lot worse than this and made it out perfectly fine.”

Hank didn’t sound amused, and there was a loud thud as something landed on sheets. “I don’t care, Y/N! You’re staying right there, it’s not just your fucking physical issues you have to worry about. I’ve never seen you act like that before, I’m worried about what that fall did to your head.” There was a moment of silence and Connor thought it was a smart time to go inside.

There seemed to be a strange, different sort of silence when he walked into the room. Connor wished his hands were free, there were no objectives or dialogue options to pick from as Hank and Y/N both turned towards him. His hands were full, he looked down to the potted black dahlia between them.

He outstretched his hands and moved towards Y/N. She just stared at him from her spot on the bed, unsure of what to do now, he looked to Hank for an order.

The Lieutenant was watching him with crossed arms and an undetermined look on his face.

Connor cleared his throat and placed the flower down on the table near the bed. He scanned her, a minor concussion, two cracked ribs, and one dislocated shoulder. Her heartbeat was increasing the longer he stared, adrenaline and cortisol reaching a level that told him she was very upset about something.

“Your arm seems to be healing at a good pace. You should listen to the Lieutenant, a couple more days rest and you’ll be feeling much better.” The room remained silent and Connor reached up to fix his already perfect tie. There was something odd about him as he felt the stares of his partners. Something inside felt off.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

“I’m programmed with psychological software that could help you after recovering from a strong shock.”

SUPPORT

ANALYTICAL

STAY QUIET

Connor immediately knew what he said was the wrong choice.

“A strong shock?” Your voice was quiet enough that he almost didn’t catch what you said, but the room was so deathly still it was impossible for you not to be heard. “A strong shock?” You were quickly gaining in volume. “You left me to fucking die! And for what, for the goddamn android to smash its fucking brains out on the interrogation table before we got anything! I would have died for nothing!”

Connor opened his mouth, prepared to argue his side of the problem, but you cut him off with a quiet question he wasn’t expecting. “What was the chance?”

“Sorry?”

You walked up closer to him and tugged his tie so hard he stumbled into you, you used the shock of the movement to jerk him down lower than you. “The chance of my survival, RK800, what was it?”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

That strange feeling was back, the use of his model instead of his name made him feel wrong.

He shouldn’t be feeling at all.

When he took too long to answer you knocked his legs out from under him and tightened your grip on the tie. “40%,” he tried to keep his voice as quiet as possible but it was clear both you and the liteuant heard him.

You released him like it had burned you to keep holding on to his tie, and the Lieutenant muttered a quiet, “Fucking bastard.” Connor opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but wanting this feeling to stop and needing the tears forming in the corners of your eyes to go away.

You and the bag you had been packing were gone by the time he had gotten to his feet, Hank stayed behind a moment, gave Connor a long look before following after you. Connor straightened his tie and sleeves and stared at his shoes. He didn’t know what to do.

There was no objective, there was nobody to give him an order. He lifted his eyes to the flower sitting on the table in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he ignored the way his LED flashed red in a mirror as he reached forwards and grabbed the potted plant.

Connor looked down at his hand and noticed he was holding an umbrella, he was back in the Zen Garden. Amanda was waiting for him on the other side of the bridge.

They walked under the umbrella together. “That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case, a pity it deactivated before you could get any useful information out of it.”

Connor felt the need to defend himself, “Deviants are extremely irrational, which makes it difficult to anticipate their behavior… I should have been more effective.” The last part of his sentence came out without any thought behind it. Like it was an instinct to automatically blame himself, even though no one would know what the deviant could have been planning.

“Did you manage to learn anything?” Connor told her of the strange drawings on the walls, the ones like mazes and the journal that had a strange code inside it. He still had no explanation for rA9 and he could tell Amanda was disappointed.

“You captured the deviant at the cost of your relationship with the detective, have you made any development in that fixing that?”

Connor couldn’t help but think of your face in the hospital room, you were angry yes, but you also seemed . . . Sad.

Connor wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was guilt, but he knew he shouldn’t be feeling anything at all.

“She still hasn’t forgiven me for leaving her to fall. We had an altercation in her hospital room, after the fact and whatever good grace we had developed seems to have been erased.” Connor stopped once he realized Amanda was no longer following.

“We don’t have much time. Deviancy continues to spread, it’s only a matter of time before the media finds out about it. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

Connor straightened his shoulders back and looked down at her, “I will solve this investigation, Amanda. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Don’t let relationships get in the way of success, Connor. Improve on them if you can, but remember their lives mean nothing in the grand scheme of your mission.”

“Detective?” Connor knocked on your door again. You lived in a house about fifteen minutes away from the lieutenant’s. He’d attempted to contact Anderson to get your address, he’d hung up every time he’d realized it was Connor calling him. Eventually he just used the information from your personnel file.

Which is how he ended up peering through your windows, trying to catch a glimpse of where you were. Eventually he managed to get a small peak through one of your blinds in the living room. You were asleep on the couch, the TV playing, and there was something in your hand. Connor pressed his face fully against the glass and alarms went through his processors at what he saw.

Pills were spilled on the ground and the bottle was empty in the loose grip of your hand. Connor attempted a scan to see if you were even breathing, but after unsuccessfully trying to wake you up and get your attention he simply broke the glass.

Connor quickly dove through the window and rushed to your side on the couch. He took in your appearance, your mouth was open, barely any breath going in or out. Your lips and nails were discolored and there was a clammy feeling to your skin when Connor pressed his hand to your forehead. He needed to get you awake and alert, first and foremost.

He lightly brought his hand down on your cheek, you shifted but stayed unconscious. “I’m sorry, Y/N, but I need you to wake up.”

He brought his hand down harder and your hand immediately swung out in response. Connors cheek whipped to the left at the force of your slap, it didn’t hurt of course, but it still shocked him.

“What the hell? Connor? Did you just slap me?” Connor looked down at you, extremely confused at your sudden alertness. He couldn’t stop you in time to not notice what he had done to your window. “The fuck? Did you break my goddamn window?” You used his face as an assist in pushing yourself off the couch, his hands went to your hips to stabilize you.

Connor stood as you kneeled down by the broken glass on your ground, swaying slightly. “Shit, I can’t afford to fix this,” you groaned at the sight of the rain pouring into the empty frame. “My things! They’re all getting wet.” Connor walked over and moved anything around the frame to the wall, making sure nothing besides your carpet would get wet. You were silent as you went and retrieved some plastic to cover the window up. Connor wanted to say something to you, but he was unsure what would help the situation.

“Why did you bust in here like the Kool-Aid Man?”

“I thought you had overdosed.” You seemed to finally take in the mess around the couch.

“Oh, crap.” Connor watched you as you picked up the pills and put them back in the bottle, he finished up the window and moved towards where you were sitting on the couch. Your head was in your hands like it was bringing you pain.

Your voice snapped him out of his observation. “You know, for a state of the art android, you’re a real dumbass.” Connor looked down at you, his face must have displayed something he couldn’t identify because you laughed a little.

“My nails look weird because I haven’t finished painting them,” you pointed towards the nail polish bottles on your coffee table. “I haven’t used any chapstick or taken my iron supplements, so there’s lips. And I got tired and fell asleep with the pill bottle in my hand. I was gonna take one for my headache but passed out after I opened the damn thing, which is probably why my head hurts so much.”

Connor was disappointed with himself at everything he had missed, he should have seen all that from the window and not taken such drastic measures. His damage to your domicile had only worsened relations between you. Right now, you hated him worse than Hank.

“You were barely breathing.”

You shot him a deadpan look, “Deep sleeper.” Connor fixed his tie and looked around the house for something to occupy himself with. There was trash everywhere, dirty clothes scattered the ground, and old dished piled in the sink.

“Hey, hey! I don’t need your judgy ass android eyes making me feel bad for my pig sty. Okay?”

“Allow me to help, detective.” Your eyes narrowed, you didn’t seem particularly trusting towards Connor. He couldn't blame you, he’d completely destroyed the small bridge of trust he’d managed to make with both you and the lieutenant. “Your shoulder and ribs are still damaged, I understand it’s difficult to take care of yourself right now. Allow me to help you.”

You laid back down on the couch, and Connor thought you were going to ignore him until you spoke up after a couple of moments of silence. “You’re a detective bot, not a house maid.” You paused before waving your hand through the air. “But sure, whatever, knock yourself out. Just stop fucking standing over me like that.” Connor watched you close your eyes, he continued standing there for a few seconds. You seemed to be faking sleep to try and get him away from you.

At least he finally had an objective he could follow now.

TAKE CARE OF Y/N

He started with the kitchen. Cleaning the takeout boxes off the counter and grabbing any dirty dishes scattered around your home. He stopped when picking some napkins off your coffee table, to check on you. Your breathing had settled and your back was turned towards him. You appeared to actually be asleep this time.

Connor frowned at the position your body was in. You were going to do more harm than good sleeping on your worn down couch. He placed the trash can on the ground and stepped silently towards you. He made sure to be as still and gentle as possible as he slowly rolled you into his arms. You only moved once, to settle your head in his neck.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

He ignored the way his thirium pump seemed to move faster and how the blue blood rushes towards his head. It simply wasn’t possible.

Connor went down the hall and to your bedroom on the right. He gently deposited you into your unmade bed and tucked the sheets over your body. He checked your pulse and scanned your body. Everything seems to be working perfectly.

You were just a disturbingly deep sleeper.

On his way out, something shining on the ground caught his eye. He made his way towards your dresser, at the foot of it appeared to be a picture frame. He looked over his shoulder to ensure you were still asleep before he bent down and grabbed it.

You appeared to be around nineteen years old. You were sitting on a roundabout smiling at the camera, your hair done in two French braids. Your arms were wrapped around a young boy around the age of three. He had his hand around your forearms and was making a strange face at the camera with his tongue out. Neither of you seemed aware your picture was being taken at the moment.

The scan confirmed your identity and gave him the identity of the boy.

DECEASED

Anderson, Cole

9/23/2029-10/11/2035.

Y/LN, Y/N

DPD Detective

Other known aliases:

Y/N ANDERSON

Hank had a son, who had died? You both appeared close in this picture. It’s approximately three years before Cole’s death. Could the death of Hank’s son be what caused the drift between the two of you?

Connor heard you shift on the bed and quickly put the picture back down on the floor. He didn’t believe you would appreciate him further investigating your life. Not when you got so upset with him when he simply took a look at your adoption papers.

Connor examined this new piece of information. It was like he was working two cases at once, solving the deviancy problem.

And trying to figure out your unfortunate past with the Lieutenant. Knowing now that the Lieutenant's son had died he could go ahead and assume that’s when your relationship started to go downhill. A year after Cole’s death is when Hank’s divorce became official, according to the papers he not so legally acquired.

The death of a child will often destroy families, if Hank could no longer be a viable partner to his wife, then perhaps he could also no longer be a father to you.

Judging by the Lieutenants drinking habits he didn’t have a healthy view on mental health, or know how to properly deal with grief.

The way you seem to isolate yourself when Connor brings up your past or tries to have a better understanding of your emotional well being, he can also go ahead and come to the conclusion that Hank passed on his unhealthy coping skills to you.

His assumption is proved correct when he comes across a packet of cigarettes buried between the couch cushions. They’re unopened but the plastic surrounding the carton has been picked at. You seem to be trying to stop yourself from giving in to your unhealthy impulses.

Connor frowns down at the box and decides to do you a favor, he throws them in the trash.

Connor continues cleaning up your home while you sleep, attempting to wash and dry your dishes as quietly as possible. The cleaning gives himself something to occupy his mind with, the frantic, buzzing thoughts about deviants and his frustrating partners temporarily quiet while he focuses on one singular task.

PROTECT Y/N

Connor always accomplishes his missions, even if that just means making sure you can wake up to a clean home, or if he has to protect you from self-sabotaging habits.

You wake up to the smell of smoke and a loud blaring alarm.

You’re soaked in a puddle of your own sweat and have no idea where you are or what day it is. Your head shoots up from your pillow at the sound of something crashing onto the floor in your kitchen. You take a second to realize that you’ve been moved to your bed.

Then you remember what woke you up and you’re bolting out of bed. “Jesus Christ,” your kitchen is a smoky haze as you cough on the suffocating smell of something burned. Connor is standing in front of a pan on your stove, simply watching the flames. “Connor!” You grab a lid off the counter and shove him out of the way as you slam it over the pan, suffocating the flames. You quickly grab the metal sheet off the ground and slam it into Connor’s chest. “Quick make sure the sprinklers don’t go off.” Connor runs towards the alarm in the hallway and immediately starts waving it around.

The sight of Connor, the emotionless android who is always calm and collected, frantically running around waving a metal pan in the air, jumping up and down to get closer to the smoke alarm makes you double over in laughter. There’s an ache in your rbis and arm from the force of your laughter, but you don’t care. You haven’t felt this light for years, you haven’t laughed like that in years.

So you allow yourself to bask in the moment, one peaceful moment where you’re not weighed down by anything, except the weight of your own joy.

Connor didn’t hear you laughing until he finally managed to get the alarm quieted. The joints in his shoulders were tired from his wild maneuvering, but it was worth it. This was the first time since you met that his observation of you showed endorphins and a positive change in your body, not one that comes from feelings of negativity.

It felt like something was in his chest, lifting him up and lightening his weight as he watched you.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

Perhaps you did more damage when you attacked him than he originally thought. Your face contorted in pain as you finally raised up from your position. Connor moved before his processors could give him the option to. He tried to be as gentle as possible as he assisted you in standing. He pointedly ignored your protests that you didn’t need help.

You did and you were getting help whether you wanted it or not.

There was still a slight smile on your face as Connor deposited you on the chair next to your table. He moved towards the stove and turned off the burner, dropping the ruined pot in your sink and running water over it, your house still smelled very strongly of burnt food.

He heard a grunt coming from his right, when he turned something inside his head felt strange. LIke he wasn’t okay with what was happening, perhaps humans called this irritation. A concerning thought, but one he ignored in favor of nudging you aside while you failed to open a window.

“Connor-”

The look he shot you when he turned around was enough to get you to sit back down. “Why are you so stubborn? You should not be here alone, you’ve taken too much damage to even do basic household chores.”

You looked around your house and finally noticed all the hard work he had put in. “Holy shit.” There was a look of appreciation on your face until you turned towards Connor. A pout formed on your face and you crossed your arms like a petulant child, “Maybe I wanted the mess. I liked it like that.”

Were you seriously having this argument with him right now? You being difficult for no reason was causing his programming to go haywire. There were red warnings in the corner of his eye telling him he was going to overheat, he dismissed them and stormed towards you.

His hand landed on the table more harshly than he intended, causing you to jump in your seat. “You’re behaving like a child, Y/N, you’re a grown woman act like it! You need my help, there’s nothing wrong with letting me assist you, so just let me help you.” Without consciously activating it the voice he uses during intimidation tactics had been used.

His eyes were drawn down to your thighs, you had them clenched tightly together, your thighs pooling out on the chair below you. Your lips parted slightly as you stared at him. Connor quickly scanned you, your heat level was rising, your heart rate had accelerated and there was an increased level of estrogen and testosterone production. A thermal scan showed an increase of heat in your pelvic area.

ACTIVATE SEXUAL SUBROUTINE?

It wasn’t until the message appeared in front of him and blocked his view of your face did he realize how close he was to you.

This was highly inappropriate. You were injured and still upset with him, there was no need to seduce you.

ACTIVATE SEXUAL SUBROUTINE

He was designed with the intent to complete his mission at any cost. In case there was ever an issue between him and one of his partners and other more illicit methods were needed to gain their support, he was equipped with the capabilities to do so. This wasn’t a situation where methods like that were necessary, so why was there a prompt for it?

Connor backed away from you immediately, it wasn’t right to be taking advantage of your emotional vulnerability. From the corner of his eye he saw you slump back down into your chair. “What-“ you cleared your throat. “What were you even trying to make?”

Connor looked back towards the pot, his hands reached for the coin in his pocket. He needed to do something to get his software back in order. He didn’t turn to look at you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to focus. He thought back to the pasta sauce on your counter. “Spaghetti, for some reason the noodles burned onto the bottom of the pot.” After he was done recalibrating he placed the coin back in his pocket and found it was okay to look at you now.

Your eyes were glued to his hand for a moment before they shot back up to his face. “Burned, to the bottom of the pot? How the hell do you burn water?”

Connor tilted his head to the side, “Water?”

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes widened. “You’re kidding? Tell me you’re kidding.” Connor didn't know how to respond to you so he remained silent. “Oh my god,” you dropped your head into your hands. “You didn’t put water in the pot.”

“Was that required?” You didn’t answer him, instead you stood and walked over to the sink, Connor followed behind you, unsure what you wanted him to do. The both of you stared down into the pot as you lifted the lid, the pasta has blackened at the bottom. Even when you stabbed at it with a knife it wouldn’t come off the pot.

Your, “yeah, it needed water,” was quiet as you went outside and tossed the pot in your trash bin. Connor stood by your opened back door awkwardly, he didn’t feel good at disappointing you and failing his task.

“I apologize Y/N, I failed.”

You snorted, “Big time, how the hell do you not know to put water in the pot?”

Connor looked down at his shoes, “I was not built with cooking capabilities,” he risked a look at you.

You were standing there, just staring at him with your arms crossed before you finally shrugged, “Well then… I guess Barbie’s got you beat.”

“Dammit, Connor, I can feed myself!”

Connor leveled you with a look that allowed for no arguing. “Your dominant arm is dislocated and you refuse to wear your sling, I’m going to assist you.” He pushed the fork against your mouth again and you reluctantly opened your mouth to eat the pancakes he had ordered. This was so humiliating, you were desperate to get him to leave at this point.

After the pot had been destroyed and subsequently disposed of he had ordered some food and you sat down in your living room.

Your entire home was absolutely spotless, when you went to the bathroom you’d noticed he’d mopped the tiles. You were not asleep long enough for him to clean your living room, let alone your whole house.

While you were still against the idea, you could understand why some would prefer android cleaning services to human. You didn’t even want to sit on your couch, afraid of wrinkling the now pristine cousins.

Once you’d sat on your couch, you’d waited for him to leave.

Except, he didn’t, he sat down next to you and then just stopped moving. No blinking, no breathing, just absolute stillness. So, still being pissed at him you’d grabbed a marker off your desk and scribbled some drawings on his face. A heart, random flower, some choice words, nothing too bad. However;

They were staring at you right now as he force fed you.

He’d called a repairman while you had drawn on him, someone would be coming by to fix your window tomorrow, CyberLife would be footing the bill. After he’d made the order for the repair he’d asked what you would like to eat and made a call for the pancakes.

He still hadn’t noticed the drawings, it was a struggle not to choke on your laughter.

You forced a yawn as you pushed his hand away from your mouth, he frowned at the action. “Are you tired, detective?”

“Yeah, I am,” now please get the hell out of my house.

“You should bathe before you go to sleep.” Your head shot towards his, the action hurting your neck. You ignored it in favor of giving him your famous The Fuck Did You Just Say™️ look.

First, he lets you fall off a building and nearly die. Next, he breaks your god damn window and destroys your pot. Now he’s saying you stink. And good grace you held for Connor was gone, obliterated at the comment.

“That’s it Connor. You’ve stayed far past your welcome, I’m done.” Your resolve almost broke at the way Connor’s shoulders slumped. You straightened your shoulders, ignored the pain shooting down your arm, and rebuilt your walls.

You should thank Connor honestly, him letting you nearly die had reminded you of exactly what he was. Nothing more than a plastic soldier that only cared about his mission. You meant nothing to him. Your life was nothing. How could something that could so easily be put into a new body have any idea about death. He couldn’t.

But something that couldn’t die, also couldn’t feel. Those small touches, and the times he would check in on you, it was all manipulation. Just like the way he lied about having a favorite dog, they were all subtle little manipulations to have you as agreeable as possible. And a visceral rage filled you at the thought that he had almost succeeded.

Your heart had almost been his.

You rebuilt your walls and stared him down. “Leave. Now.”

Connor didn’t frown, he didn’t cry or scream at you to let him stay, but the look in his eyes as he stared up at you from his spot on your couch said enough. He looked genuinely hurt at what you said. Not possible.

“You can take your sad little eyes and you can shove them up your ass, Connor. Get the fuck out of my house.” You stormed out of the living room and into your bedroom. He’d cleaned it up and replaced your sheets while you’d waited for the food to arrive.

The lack of your mess made you angrier than it should have. How dare he just come into your house and start acting like he belonged there?

Like he had any right to be near you?

If he could feel pain you would beat him twice as bad as you did after the rooftop incident.

Apparently he’d had to get three parts replaced by CyberLife after what you did. Hank had been complaining about the paperwork the entire time you were in the hospital.

If your arms and ribs weren’t aching you would be pitching a major fit, and ripping the goddamn sheets right off the bed. At the moment, however, the pill Connor had forced you to take was kicking in and making you sluggish.

The only reason you had allowed Connor to stay in the first place was because you were still waking up from your nap. He seemed determined to keep you weak and tired so you couldn’t get rid of him.

You heard footsteps and then a hand was wrapped around your non-injured elbow. “I’m not leaving, detective. Someone in your condition needs assistance.” You turned around in his arms and tried to push him off of you, but he wouldn’t budge. Both of his hands moved to your biceps. The look he gave you made you stop, “Y/N, please, let me help. Please.” He seemed so sad, there was a slump to his shoulders that made him look almost shameful. The tone of his voice made you believe he actually wanted to help, that this wasn’t a part of his programming.

You blamed how easily you gave into him on the drugs.

“Absolutely not!”

Connor was holding your towel in front of him like a shield. “I won’t look, detective, I promise.”

“Hell no! Line drawn! You shall not pass.” He gave you a stern look. Like you should feel dumb for thinking he wanted to see you naked, maybe you were, but you didn’t want any pervy CyberLife techs scanning through his mainframe and seeing footage of you naked. “I’m not gonna let your bosses see me naked.”

Connor seemed to catch onto your train of thought. “I won’t be recording when you’re bathing, I promise we’ll be completely alone.” You crossed your arms, this is one battle he would not be winning. Android or not, your stubbornness was not something to be so easily reckoned with. Connor let out a long sigh, “Fine. You clean yourself, and then we can draw a bath and I’ll assist you with your hair.”

You’d made the mistake of admitting to him that you hadn’t exactly been keeping up with your hygiene while you’d been on the case. You’d been keeping your hair in two braids and have been taking quick showers in between working the case. It was one of your more major flaws. Letting yourself get swept up in the mystery at the expense of your own self-care.

You’d also made the mistake of telling him that it hurt too much to wash your hair, or even attempt to. Now he was insisting on helping you.

Connor looked at your arms and mimicked your posture. “We can stand here all night, detective, I’m not budging.”

You were standing there for two minutes before you realized he was actually being serious. Your chest was starting to ache with the effort of keeping yourself upright. You shifted around and he didn’t even blink. Your skin was starting to buzz with boredom.

After another minute you saw that he wasn’t blinking. Narrowing your eyes and moving closer to his face you waved your hand in front of his face. “Are you serious?” He’d gone into sleep mode, you could tell by the pulsing yellow LED on the side of his face. “Bitch.” And he had ‘coincidentally’ blocked the bathroom exit. Groaning you took the towel in his hands and threw it over his head.

“RK800 wake up.”

Connor’s systems slowly came back online at the sound of your voice. Everything was at 100%, except his optical units didn’t seem to be processing his environment correctly. It took a second before his sensors recognized the fabric of a towel over his head. He sighed and ripped it off his head.

The sight before him had him momentarily stopping. You were in your freshly cleaned tub, bubbles covering your body as you looked at him expectantly. “You wanna help me out or what, sleeping beauty?”

ACTIVATE SEXUAL SUBROUTINES?

SYSTEM OVERHEAT IMMINENT

ACTIVATING COOLING SYSTEM

You looked concerned by the time Connor had managed to calm his sensors, there were parts of him coming online that were not necessary at this moment. He tightened his tie as a poor attempt to get everything back in order. It didn’t work, he was still distracted by your lack of clothes. He could not understand why.

“I’m starting to get creeped out, Connor.” That got Connor’s attention. He never meant to make you uncomfortable.

He moved to sit beside the tub and pulled up his sleeves. “Apologies, detective, my systems were coming back online.” You nodded your head and he hoped you couldn’t see through the lie. Connor used the pitcher beside him to wet your hair and began massaging your scalp as he rubbed the shampoo in.

You moaned as his hands came down to rub your neck. It triggered another cooling process. Much of the rest of your bath was the same, he was struggling with strange impulses that were activating outside his control and programming. When you had leaned your head back on the rim of the tub he’d wanted to press his lips against your stretched neck.

He’d seen humans do it before, but the emotions connected to the act were something Connor wasn’t capable of. He was experiencing what some might call a mental crisis as he helped you wash your hair.

When he was finished, he handed you a towel and went to your room to grab you some pajamas. The picture of you and Cole was facedown on your dresser, moved from the upright position he had placed it in while he had cleaned.

He placed the tank top and shorts you requested on your sink and waited for you in your bedroom. When you walked in you seemed surprised to see him standing by your bed. Your face quickly morphed into one of resignation as you threw your towel on your bed.

Connor made a note to pick it up.

“What now?” He held out the brush in his hands.

“I’ll braid it for you, so you don’t have to worry about styling it with your injured shoulder.” You stopped fidgeting with the end of your shirt and instead gave him a bewildered look. “Is something wrong, detective?”

You cleared your throat before answering, “Nothing it’s- Nevermind.” You sat on your bed with no argument, something Connor was surprised by, considering you seemed to find it necessary to argue with him about everything.

By the second braid you were fully leaning onto his leg, Connor had to keep readjusting so he had room to finish off the braid. The medicine seemed to have fully kicked in, you didn’t make a fuss when he gently guided you under the covers and turned your light off. He knew you were still awake as he made his way to your door.

“Good night, detective.”

He didn’t get a response.

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