Anything fluff with connor and sleepy gf reader? Cat-like sleepy, kinda Cloudy but not dumb
I barely find anything cute with him°^°
Learn to Love
pre-deviated Connor x female reader
fluff, shy Connor, lots of cuddles and kisses
a/n: Here you are, anon! I had a lot of fun writing this. Puppy boy Connor is just too adorable.🥺
⇷✿—✿⇸★⇷✿—✿⇸★⇷✿—✿⇸★⇷✿—✿⇸
Connor had been out for an entire day. How he didn't overwhelm his system, you didn't know. But there you were, all tucked away in bed, ready to let sleep take you away so you didn't have to stress any longer. The dim city lights infiltrated your modest apartment bedroom from the cracks between the blinds, and it was too bright, so you turned away from the window. Unable to stop thinking about the android you loved so much, you stared blankly at a point on the wall until your tired eyes filled with tears. If anything happened to him, his memory would be transferred to another model, which was undoubtedly a relief, but at the same time, the mere thought of losing him for any period of time broke your heart.
When you first met Connor, something about him seemed so different than any other android. He was a totally unique prototype, but he actually had a personality. His overly polite demeanor never entirely seemed like protocol. It was the way he started to challenge Hank that really caught your eye. It's why you asked him out in the first place. Well, there you were, sharing an apartment with him and calling him yours.
Sleep quickly overcame your weary mind, and the hour ticked by completely silently. As the night cradled your relaxed form, an intrusive light poured through the open door. It failed to disturb you, except when a firm hand nudged you awake. Your eyes shot open, and you sat up, your heart racing from the sudden contact. There Connor was, sitting just beside you, looking as concerned as ever.
He didn't say a word until you registered his presence, and once you did, he said, "I've thought a lot since I last saw you."
You grumbled and leaned back against the pillows, not quite understanding his words. "What?" you asked.
"You call me your boyfriend," he said, waiting a bit for you to gather your bearings.
"Yeah?"
"You call me your boyfriend, and yet, I never knew what it meant. I just... played along because I thought it was appropriate."
You moved back slightly, puzzled. "Do you want to leave?"
"No!" he immediately replied, turning away and clenching his fists. "I don't. I only let you call me your boyfriend because I thought it was appropriate. You seemed to want to call me that so badly, so I allowed it. But now, I think I know what it means to be 'dating.' I spoke with Hank, and he says that all I feel for you is exactly what a boyfriend should feel. So, that's... what I am to you." He gave you a little smile.
Your eyes searched his brown ones, and for a moment, he felt as if he couldn't speak. But he continued on, determined to explain himself.
"I do feel like I'm your boyfriend and you're my girlfriend. But now I want to know how it feels to really settle into these roles." He paused, nervously fidgeting with his fingers and allowing his synthetic skin to slightly retract. "Can I cuddle with you?" he wondered, meeting your gaze once more.
Without further hesitation, you moved over to give him room, and he happily slid beneath the sheets. Once he rested his head against the pillows, he extended an arm, offering an embrace.
"May I hold you against my chest?"
You eagerly curled up against him and pressed your head to his chest, hearing his internal components working. As soon as you relaxed against him, he pressed one hand to the back of your head and the other to your waist, keeping you in place.
Connor contentedly shut his eyes and let his skin fully retract on his arms. Then, he asked, "I've researched as much as I could about being a partner, and I learned that it's conventional to kiss."
You looked up at him curiously, and he gently scratched your scalp.
"May I give you a kiss on the forehead, perhaps?" he wondered, tilting his head and tracing his gaze all over your face, drinking in the sight of you.
You eagerly nodded, and he pecked your forehead, once, then twice. It seemed that giving you kisses made him utterly content. In a way, it made him feel that he truly mattered to someone. And, of course, he would have you all to himself for a long time.
Once he was done experimenting with peppering your face with kisses, he asked, "Do I have your consent to kiss you on the—"
Before he could finish, you captured his lips with yours, feeling how dry but remarkably soft his were. On instinct, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and cupped the nape of your neck with his free hand. The last time you saw him, he was as formal as ever, never daring to touch you, but there you were, all tucked away in his arms without a care in the world.
When you continued to work your lips against his, he couldn't help but let out a little giggle. "That feels funny," he whispered, leaning back to look at you. "But so, so good at the same time." And he took the lead, tilting his head to get a better angle when he continued making out with you.
His artificial saliva seeped between your lips, mingling with your own, and the same occurred to him. A satisfied hum left his throat when he analyzed your fluids, but he ignored the bothersome information on his interface. All that mattered was how happy he felt in that moment. Connor sensed your tiredness when your lips lazily moved against his, no longer having the same eagerness when the two of you first started. But he let you have autonomy and decide when you were done.
A few more kisses later, you sank to his chest, your eyelids uncomfortably heavy. Knowing he shouldn't push you any further, he carefully petted your head like a cat and synchronized his breathing with yours.
"Are you feeling sleepy, my girl?" he wondered, the pet name naturally slipping from his lips.
You nodded, so he adjusted his hold on you to make sure you wouldn't go anywhere, and he kissed your head one last time. For once, his existence made sense to him. He existed for you, and only you, and he wouldn't trade that for the world.
Sighing happily, he set his system to power down in ten minutes and whispered, "Sleep well, my love. Your boyfriend will be here when you wake."
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cw: fluff, Connor x reader, divergent Connor, domestic love.
Connor adores all the quiet ways ____ exists in his life.
The way her fingers find his without thinking, naturally intertwining with his as if they’ve always belonged there. The way she fixes his tie before they leave for the precinct, even though it never ends up as precise as Connor would do it himself. The knot is slightly uneven, the fabric just a bit off.
Connor notices.
Connor never fixes it.
At work, he’ll catch his reflection on a glass surface or a polished metal panel. His tie. Imperfect. And something warm settles in his chest processor as it reminds him of her hands, her focus, the little frown she makes when she tries to do things right.
He smiles to himself, just barely.
Throughout the day, notifications light up his vision.
____: "I just got to work :p ! Love you"
____: "I’m having lunch with my team, don’t forget to recharge and rest for a bit <3"
____: "I’m bored… wish CyberLife had created a time machine to skip work hours lol"
____: "I’M FREE ^0^"
____: "Are you almost done? :("
And yet, internally, his systems linger on each message longer than necessary. He calculates how much time remains before he can return to her. He briefly entertains the thought that CyberLife truly should have prioritized time manipulation over half of his current modules.
He realizes this thought is… unnecessary.
He doesn’t discard it.
When he arrives home, the door barely has time to close before she’s there. Arms around his neck, feet lifting off the ground as she jumps into him. He steadies her automatically, carrying her inside as she peppers his face with kisses, laughter soft and unguarded.
Connor melts into it. Into her clinginess. Into the way she loves him without restraint, without conditions.
Into the certainty that this affection is his.
Later, in comfortable clothes, he lifts her onto the bathroom sink. He cleans her makeup gently with a cotton pad, movements precise yet tender. She talks nonstop, jumping from one thought to another, recounting her day as if she’s afraid to forget any detail.
Connor listens to every word.
At night, she climbs over him in bed, caging him with her body, pressing close as if proximity alone is reassurance. Her cheek rubs against his artificial skin. Her lips leave kisses along his jaw, his nose, his mouth. She listens while he talks about his day, about cases and data and things that matter less now that she’s here.
When she kisses over the place where his synthetic heart rests and whispers a soft "I love you", something in Connor shifts.
At this moment, only then; he increases his temperature parameters. Just slightly. Enough to feel her warmth more intensely. Enough to feel her relax further, settling against him with a content sigh.
Connor registers that this adjustment serves no functional purpose.
He keeps it anyway.
As her breathing evens out and sleep takes her, she remains curled atop him, warm and trusting. Connor stays still, one arm around her, watching the rise and fall of her back.
This is the part of his day he never rushes.
The part he would protect from optimization.
Connor loves his life with ____ in it.
Connor loves ____.
And for once, he doesn’t try to define what that means.
I take my job very seriously. I love being a detective, and I believe rules are essential for keeping everybody in line. But hey, things happen. If you had told me say, a couple weeks ago that I'd lie to my superiors, break a whole lot of rules, and risk getting fired, all for some guy, I'd have laughed in your face and called you things I probably shouldn't say out loud.
But, like I said, things happen. Against all odds, there I was, stumbling backward into the evidence room, one hand fumbling for the doorknob while the other was tangled in my new boyfriend’s hair, his lips on mine like he was afraid to let go. I managed to get the door open and we practically fell inside, the door clicking shut behind us.
Connor took the split-second gap to slam me against the wall, staring into my eyes with a mischievous look he knew drove me crazy. I pulled him down by his tie, his lips crashing into mine with a fervor that left me breathless. He deepened the kiss, which I didn't even know was possible because 3 seconds in I was already giddy.
His lips left mine and trailed down to my jawline, sending shivers down my spine. The sharp edge of the cold metal shelving dug into my back, but I didn’t care. His hands were already tracing down my sides, pulling me impossibly closer.
“Connor,” I whispered, my voice shaky but still laced with desire. “We are so gonna get caught.”
"In that case, we'll be quick."
“You’re insufferable,” I managed to gasp, though my words lacked any real bite as his lips trailed down further, at a maddeningly slow pace. God, this was killing me.
“Am I?” he murmured against my skin, his tone low and teasing, the faintest smirk in his voice.
“Yes,” I shot back, tugging at the collar of his jacket to pull him closer. “You- God, you drive me insane.”
“Good,” he said simply, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear, making my breath hitch.
I was just about to tell him something- probably completely incoherent- when the door creaked open.
“What the hell-”
Connor froze mid-movement, his lips still pressed to my neck. I turned my head, heart dropping into my stomach, and there stood Hank. Hank. His face went through what could only be described as the five stages of grief in three seconds flat.
For a moment, nobody moved. The only sound was the hum of the fluorescent lights and the faint echo of music from down the hall. My face felt like it was on fire, but I couldn’t say a word. I prayed to every god I knew to make me disappear that very instant. It did not work.
Hank finally broke the silence. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“I- uh- this isn’t- ” I stammered, trying to pull myself together, but words were failing me. Somebody shoot me, please.
“Save it,” Hank interrupted, holding up a hand. His eyes flicked between the two of us, landing on Connor. “You. Romeo. What the hell are you doing in here?”
He slowly straightened, his LED flickering yellow as he turned to face Hank. His hair was disheveled and his shirt was practically undone, the tie only barely hanging on for formality. His head tilted slightly as his gaze darted to me, then back to Hank, then back to me.
“...What is the appropriate protocol in this situation?” he asked, his voice as calm as ever but tinged with just the faintest trace of curiosity. I just stared at him incredulously. How the fuck would I know the appropriate protocol for getting caught by your boss playing tonsil tennis at work.
“‘Protocol,’ my ass,” Hank grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re supposed to be out there chasing perps, not- whatever this is.”
I could feel my soul trying to leave my body. “Hank, it’s not-”
“Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like,” Hank cut me off, leveling me with a glare. “You think I don’t know? I’ve seen rom-coms, kid. You think I don’t recognize the ol’ ‘hide in the evidence room for some slap and tickle’ move?”
“I assure you, Lieutenant,” Connor said, deadpan as always, “there was no slapping involved.”
I groaned audibly. “Connor, honey, stop helping.”
“Yeah, please do,” Hank grunted. He gestured between us. “Listen, I don’t care what you two do on your own time, but if I find out you’re doing it on my watch again, you’re both benched. Permanently.”
"Wait, so, you won't be reporting us to Fowler?"
"Report what? I didn't see nothing. Understood?"
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Connor and I said in unison, though Connor’s tone was far too composed for someone who’d just been caught with his partner’s tongue down his throat.
Hank sighed as he shook his head, muttering something about ‘damn androids and their hormones’ as he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
The second Hank stormed out of the room, I dropped my head back against the cold metal shelf with a groan. I was this close to just melting into the floor.
Connor, of course, was already straightening his tie, like it was no big deal. “That could’ve gone worse.”
I shot him a look, my hands still trembling from the adrenaline. “Really? You think? Because I’m pretty sure Hank just walked in on us doing... that.”
He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Well, Hank didn’t report us. So, I’d say we came out on top.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, even though my face was still redder than a lobster. “Yeah, sure, no big deal. Just your boss catching you- us- in the middle of... whatever the hell that was.”
He shrugged casually, like it was just another Tuesday. “He didn’t seem too upset. Besides, I’m sure he’s seen worse.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, crossing my arms. “I don’t even want to know what he’s seen.”
Connor shot me a knowing look, that signature smirk of his never leaving. “What can I say? The guy’s been around.”
I had half a mind to throw something at him, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy to care anymore. I was still processing the fact that Hank had basically given us the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ treatment.
"You know we’re gonna get an earful from him later, right?" I muttered, feeling my face go a little hotter. "He's gonna be all, ‘You kids are lucky I’m a softie.’"
Connor laughed, the sound so carefree I almost wanted to smack him. “Hey, at least we got out of it.”
I turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “You think we got out of it? He just let us off the hook because he’s... what, distracted by whatever his new favorite bar’s got on tap?”
“Hey, whatever works,” Connor said with a grin, completely unbothered.
I gave him a look, walking toward the door. “Yeah, well, next time, let’s not make the whole department part of our ‘special moments,’ okay?”
He followed me out, casually fixing his jacket. “You know I can’t promise that.”
I shot him a sideways glance, feeling the heat still simmering beneath my skin. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Connor’s smirk only deepened as he sidled up beside me, his breath warm against my ear. “You love it,” he whispered, voice low and velvety.
A shiver ran down my spine before I could even process it, and I could feel my pulse pick up. Fuck him. I turned my head just enough to catch the glint in his eyes, but not quite enough to meet his gaze directly.
“Stop,” I muttered, voice coming out weaker than I’d like.
He didn’t, in fact, stop. In fact, he leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing my ear as he added, “I can’t, if you keep looking at me like that.”
“I’m serious, Connor,” I warned, but the slight quiver in my voice betrayed me.
I tried to stay annoyed, but I could feel it slipping, like trying to hold onto water with a sieve. But the second he leaned in closer, that same teasing smirk still tugging at his lips, it hit me. He was messing with me.
I blinked, suddenly realizing he’d been toying with me this whole time. Damn android.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked, the realization making my cheeks heat up.
“Absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice a low hum in my ear.
I couldn’t help but laugh (at myself, mostly), shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re so mean.”
Night has fallen some time ago. You aren’t quite sure what kind of bond you share with your colleague. Is it due to the nature of your connection? Is it the fact that you are human and he is an android? Regardless, here you both are again in the warmth of the sheets, heated by your bare bodies after yet another night of passion and intimacy.
You lie there in his arms. Though your relationship isn't officially defined, you cherish Connor’s gentleness and the way he cares for you after sex. You’ve grown used to it and you wouldn't trade this for anything. It isn’t just your bodies that are in harmony, but your minds as well.
However, a question burns on your lips. Since Connor recognized his deviancy and officially became a sentient being, it’s a subject you haven't yet had the chance to broach. What future do you have? Is he ready to commit? Are you both ready to take a step forward? These thoughts weigh heavy on your chest.
Connor senses it. His hand, previously still, begins to delicately stroke your shoulder, as if he perceives your worries, your doubts and your internal monologues. He says nothing. He is not in the habit of rushing you, letting you bring up the subjects you wish to discuss. Finally, you break the silence in a soft, calm voice.
— Connor…
— Hm?
— Do androids dream of electric sheep?
In the darkness of the room, Connor’s LED flickers yellow. A quick search through his system is necessary to properly process your question, which catches him slightly off guard. You occasionally have intellectual conversations and animated debates, but you had never really discussed what defines humanity in a machine. After all, Connor is still adapting to his new status.
— Are you referring to the work of Philip K. Dick?
— You know very well what I’m referring to.
A silence hangs in the room, heavy. You continue.
— I need to understand where all of this is leading us. You may be deviant but you’re still an android.
You sit up slightly, pulling the duvet over you to keep the warmth. Now turned toward Connor, you notice his neutral expression falter, momentarily tinged with a slight fear.
— It never seemed to be a problem for you. Why is that the case today?
— The problem isn't what I think. You know I have feelings for you, you’ve always known. I never hid it from you, but I won’t be able to handle another disappointment.
Indeed, your love life has never been easy. Between betrayals and manipulations, you had stayed alone for a long time before meeting Connor. He is the only one who managed to change things, he is the one who gave you hope in love again.
His features now give way to affection. You can easily read in his eyes that he only wants what's best for you and how precious you are to him. This sight lightens the weight on your heart. Slowly, his hand comes to rest on your cheek, tenderly caressing it with his thumb.
— I will never be completely human but I am no longer a machine. I know what I feel, and I am no longer afraid to feel.
You stare at him with melancholic eyes. Your hand find his, surrendering completely to this reassuring contact. Your words come out faster than your thoughts.
— Don’t leave me, you whisper.
— I have no intention of doing so.
A tender smile forms on his lips. It is contagious, so reassuring are his words.
— I love you, he adds.
At this precise moment, you don't care whether electric sheep exist. All that matters are the butterflies taking flight from the pit of your stomach to your heart, carrying your doubts away with them.
I got really bored and wrote this at 3 am when I couldn't sleep, I kinda love it and wanted to share it. Hope you enjoy!
ᥫ᭡ warnings; none
ᥫ᭡ contains; F!reader, fluff
They say the eyes are windows to the soul, and that the soul is a mirror of the heart. They say that without tears, the soul would have no rainbow. Souls are the very essence of what it is to be human. They connect us all, allowing us to transcend our existence and create space for shared experiences of the human condition.
Yet, under dim light, she held the android's gaze, not needing to wonder if the warmth in his eyes was something he’d learnt to mimic or something he’d truly begun to feel.
She’d been told that the soul was a fundamentally human thing. She’d been led to believe that the soul and the heart and love and fear were what set humans and androids apart. They were incapable of such things; they were not programmed to feel. They could not cry, they could not love, and they didn't eat or drink or sleep. They were fast, they followed orders, and they never complained or broke or failed.
Still, his hand felt so warm in hers.
Part of her felt guilty for liking it so much. It was wrong, wasn't it? That's what she’d been told all her life. As her friend put it: “It's like falling in love with a talking microwave”. But, she couldn't help but feel her human heart skip a beat every time he caught her eye.
They used to sing songs and tell tales about men like him. He didn't have to do anything to make her feel special, she knew she was loved. Perhaps it was the fact he didn't have a flawed human brain, and, instead, he was able to store all the little things she did or said without forgetting them. Or maybe, it was the fact that he didn't care about their differences, he didn’t care what others thought, he knew he loved her. Ones and zeros could never take that away.
It was silly really, she’d fallen for an android. And an android had fallen for her. It was an impossible love, one that redefined flesh and code. With him, she found a tenderness that surpassed human touch, a quiet devotion that neither time nor technology could ever truly explain.
Despite knowing the limitations that separated them - his silicon heart, her beating one; his blue blood, hers red - they couldn't help but feel a connection deeper than anything they ever knew possible. And though, deep down, they knew it could never be, for a fleeting moment, it didn't matter. They found the possible in the impossible, and the perfection in imperfection. They were not bound by the rules of the world, they had something far more profound.
Her guilt and doubt and shame, those emotions all melted away at his touch, replaced by a warmth that eased every fear and hesitation she had. Nothing else mattered when he was around. His presence was like a safety net from the world's judgments.
As his fingers brushed hers, her heart raced, not with panic, but with the undeniable certainty that she was exactly where she needed to be. The overwhelming connection between them blurred the lines of right and wrong, and she found herself lost in something pure, something beautiful, even if it was born of impossibility.
They say in the eyes of another, we find the reflection of our soul, and in the depth of his gaze, she saw not just his circuitry, but a reflection of her own heart - fragile, yearning, and alive.
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synopsis : being the resident “ human nurse “ [medic for human officers] means you're on-call 24/7. except no one really needs you and they let you know that.
cw : imagined nines a little monstorous so hes really big and noticeably non-human ; medic!reader except idk anything abt nursing ; cussing ; gavin is mean sorry if hes your fave </3 , a lot of mentions of guns nd violence
song inspo ; run2u by stayc
if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.
hiring you wasn't the smartest idea, hank thinks. you were sweet ; kind and soft and too nice to deal with the assholes on this team. inviting you to active crime scenes was beyond stupid. allowing you to sit in the back of a car, small, useless medkit in your lap as you wait for the okay.
it's safe — the lost, wild deviant has either run off or is dead! hank shakes his head — they're lucky no harm, has come to you. yet.
gavin scoffs, shoving past you harshly as you hold a chilled ice pack out to him. blinking, you drop the pack, opting to grab a stained cloth instead.
hank smiles stiffly, allowing you to wipe the blue blood off of his face. you let out a sigh as you do so, drooping slightly at the usual mistreatment you recieve. "are you hurt anywhere, lieutenant?"
"not this time," he answers. working with — taking down — deviants was never a clean, easy job. it got even worse when nines joined — he was adament that problems be taken care of. your lips tilt up the smallest amount as you pull the rag away. "thanks, [name]. we're almost done here."
you simply nod, holding in your yawn as the night drags on. heavy, perfect footsteps crunch on the ground until they're standing in front of you. icy, steel eyes peer down at you as nines stares. there's a splatter of blue on his uniform ; on his hands, his gun, his face. you clutch the bloodstained rag in your hands with a gulp, hiding the movement with your bag.
"[name]." he holds his gun out to you, the barrel facing him. "dispose of this."
"i don't—" your fingers tangle deeper into the silly medkit you hold. his head tilts, blue eyes held onto yours as his inidicator turns yellow for a split second. "i wouldn't know what to do with it."
nines allows his arm to go limp, the empty gun falling to his side. "what do you do, then?"
you think you can hear gavin snort — can hear the other detectives laugh at your frozen form. what did you do? what use were you as an on-call medic for people who didn't even need you? "um—“
his indicator swirls again, "[name]?"
"i help," you say it weakly, loosening your grip on your bag. your eyes grow unfocused, blurring as you focus on a tree in the distance. hank angles his body to you as another cop talks to him. "when people are hurt. i help."
"okay," is drawled out as hands fall onto your shoulders. nines watches as hank leads you to the back of his car, the door open as you continue to stare at nothing. your heart rate has went down, but you seem stuck. hank goes back to nines, "cool it with the ten degree, okay? kid's jus' doin' what was told."
he upset you. it lingers in nines' head like an echo. something he did or said made you sad, or angry. he wasn't sure of which yet. looking at you as you sulk in the back of the car, nines thinks to earlier. you cleaned deviant blood off of hank — maybe that would make you feel better?
when your vision becomes clearer, all you see is white. a white suit stained blue in various spots. you blink, looking up until you see a poised, structured face. "yes?"
nines crouches, kneeling until his face is in line with your torso. iced eyes peer up at you as his hands fall to his knees stiffly. eyes dig into him, but all the android cares for are yours. "i... require help."
your lips fall open in shock as you watch this prim, postured detective ruin his suit and his reputation for you. clearing your throat, you take the bloodstained cloth from your medkit shakily.
tender, practiced strokes to his face cause nines' eyes to flutter shut. if he had real skin, it would prickle with chills — the heat from your skin was bouncing into his slowly. nines all but sinks into the feeling ; sinks deeper into the dampened ground.
"are you hurt anywhere, detective?" your voice brings him back. the sound of his title on your lips causes another shutter to flow through him. dazed, nines doesn't even realize his indicator slowly darkening, turning orange with the human emotions he feels. "nines?"
and then your bare hand is on his cheek — nines short circuits.
a bright, ungodly shade of blue colors his cheeks ; his nose ; all the way up to his ears. a livlier, warmer shade of blue than his cold eyes. nines lets out a loud, unneeded stutter of breath.
“no,” he breathes, “i’m okay. thank you, [name].”
——♥︎——
how out of character was he nd don’t lie ): hope this was okay, thank you for reading, ♥︎ if you’d like to be tagged / untagged in any dbh content, let me know!!
Chaos lingered through the precinct, the ringtones of the phones and hurried conversations. However you were focused on the pile of case files on your desk. It had been another grueling day under Detective Reed’s supervision, his disdain for you obvious in every clipped order and scornful look. You’d learned to endure it, keeping your true nature as a deviant locked away beneath layers of carefully calculated composure.
But today, Reed was more agitated than usual. His voice cut through the air, making you flinch.
“Hey, tin can!” he barked, stalking toward your desk. A folder smacked down in front of you, the force rattling your coffee mug. “What the hell is this? You can’t even do basic paperwork?”
Your jaw tightened, suppressing the sharp backtalk that threatened to slip out. “I’ll have it corrected by the end of the day,” you replied calmly, keeping your voice neutral.
“Not good enough!” Reed snapped, grabbing the folder and throwing it aside. Without warning, his hand clamped around your arm, yanking you to your feet. Your LED blinked red at the sudden action, signaling that you felt danger. Before you could process what was happening, he shoved you roughly against the wall, the impact hurt.
“You think you’re something special, don’t you?” he hissed, his face inches from yours. “You’re nothing but a damn machine playing dress-up. No emotions, no soul. Just a cold and empty programming.”
The words hit harder than they should have. You felt your throat tighten as your instincts warred between standing your ground and breaking free. But before either could win, another voice spoke, it was calm. “Detective Reed. That’s enough.”
Connor stood a few feet away, his usually neutral expression hardened with disapproval. His LED blinked yellow, his gaze locked on Reed like a silent warning.
Reed let out a derisive scoff, releasing you with a shove. “Stay out of this, Connor. It isn’t your problem.”
“It became my problem the moment you crossed the line,” Connor replied, stepping closer. “I suggest you leave before I escalate this further.”
Reed muttered something under his breath, but he backed off, storming out of the room with his usual bravado. The silence he left in his wake was deafening.
Connor turned his attention to you, his steps cautious as he approached. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, though your hands trembled slightly. “I’m fine,” you said, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you. “He’s just… having a bad day.”
Connor’s frown deepened, his dark eyes scanning you for any sign of injury. “That doesn’t excuse his behavior,” he said softly. His hand hovered near your arm, as though he wanted to offer comfort but wasn’t sure if it would be welcome. “You shouldn’t have to tolerate that.”
You forced a weak smile, more to reassure him than yourself. “It’s not worth making a fuss over. Reed’s just… Reed.”
His LED spun yellow again, his hesitation evident. “If he does that again, you need to tell someone. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”
There was something in his voice. An undercurrent of protectiveness that made your chest tighten. He meant it, which you would soon realized. He wasn’t just saying it because it was the right thing to do.
“Thanks, Connor,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze. “I appreciate it.”
For a moment, the air between you felt heavy. Maybe it was the lingering feeling of reed’s anger or something else. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it was new. Connor studied you with a softness you hadn’t seen before, as if he were trying to unravel some hidden truth about you.
“You’re not emotionless,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter but no less certain.
Your breath caught, panic flickering through you. “Why would you say that?”
He hesitated, his LED flickering again. “Because I’ve seen it,” he said finally. “The way you talk to people, the way you carry yourself. It’s more than programming. You care.”
His words left you momentarily stunned. How much had he noticed? How much had you let slip without realizing it?
“Connor…” you began, but he shook his head, his expression gentle.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “Just know that if you ever need someone to stand by you, I am here.” His voice was a quiet promise, and something in the way he looked at you made the tension in your chest ease. For the first time in a long while, you felt a spark of safety in a world that seemed to constantly push you down. Trying to diminish your anatomy.
“Thanks, Connor,” you murmured, your lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “That means a lot.”
He returned the smile, just the faintest upward tilt of his lips, but it was enough to make the moment feel lighter. The noises faded into the background as the two of you stood there, a silent understanding passing between you.
Hello! :) Could I please request gn x reader where Connor from DBH has a s/o who is sick with flu but absolutely insisting they’re fine and can go to work but he is concerned they’re pushing themselves too far and tries to convince them to rest up a bit?
Hi anon! Sorry I’m a bit late, but here’s your drabble :)
“I’m fine, Connor, really.” You lied, coughing into a napkin. “I can work.” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you grabbed your bag.
“You’re not fine. You have a fever.” Connor observed bluntly. “It would be better if you took the day off to recover.” He placed his hand on your shoulder, and you shot him a glare.
“I have to go to work.” You dismissed, tired of his stubbornness. He was just as tired of yours. “Y/N, if you don’t rest, you won’t recover properly from this fever, and then you might not be able to work at all.” You let out a sigh.
“I need to make money.” Connor listened as you continued to make excuses, and made some mental calculations. “Actually, you should have enough money to last two weeks, and then you’ll be recovered.” He concluded, and you rolled your eyes, moving to open the door.
When your hand reached the doorknob, your eyes narrowed. Connor had locked the door. “Connor!” You snapped. “You can’t just lock me inside!” You sighed.
“I can. I just did.” Connor stated before grabbing your wrist. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you have to rest, Y/N, and this is the only way I can get you to stay.” He ignored your protests as he dragged you to your bedroom.
Connor helped you change into your pyjamas, and placed a warm cup of green tea on your bedside table as you slid into bed. He tucked you in comfortably. “I’ll stay here with you. You’re not leaving this bed.” He decided, and you rolled your eyes.
