Connor Rk800 - Tumblr Posts

I didn't notice I made all of these yellow (mostly)😭

Wanted to emulate old story book styles and to try drawing Connor's concept art outfit

Stinkers

And some other game references :)

This bed we made because I think it suits her lol

I wanted to draw them in the style of papers please

>> simulation start <<

> [ Objective: Stop the deviant leader ]

> [ Optional Side Task: Save Lieuten@nt And3rson ]

Chapter 1 of @nothinggathers and I’s every-alternate-universe-rolled-into-one-lifechanging-experience-for-Connor collab is up!!! Fic is here. Expect more suffering to come………lots more

The android sent by cyber life, everyone🗣‼️🔥🔥 <3

Tried to figure out how to stylize Connor but now he just looks weird😭😭 Maybe it's the eyes or smth idk🧍‍♂️ (I somewhat feel proud of some things but that's about it😭)

Him without the lighting🫶

The guys ever🤭 (they're talking about their family🧍‍♂️🕺)

This idea popped into my mind when I saw the crossfriends trend on twt and I HAD to draw it. They have this like mutual understanding.

(+without the speaking bubbles because I can't draw chibi's to save my life😭😭☠️)

Edit:

I fixed Rei's eye bags because they were (imo) really strong in the previous peice lolol (+closeups of the faces cause I really liked the way they looked🤭🤭🤭)

Art by PainT.

Another Instance of Thinking too Much About Detroit: Become Human

Ok so I was watching Bryan Dechart’s play through of Detroit and I remembered the whole scene with Hank and the birds, cause there was a lot of fuckin birds. And they were in the mind palace and pigeons in The Nest belong in the same family as doves. In the mind palace they were white doves, a symbol of peace. Maybe its something Cyberlife put in there to put Connor at ease with them, the whole place is kinda designed to be calming. So Cyberlife tries to keep Connor calm and trusting of them, using bird representing peace and love. 

The doves in The Nest are a variation of rock doves/ pigeons, a type of excellent messenger bird that have this trippy ability to always find their way home from any place in the world. Pretty cool right? Not sure what this might symbolize in relation to the story. But i find the fact that Connor is associated with a messenger bird of peace is pretty interesting. He does always return to Cyberlife in the mind palace, so to them that’s his home that he will always find his way back to? Of course if you go deviant you become a free bird, which leads us into Markus’s bird.

The first bird Markus encounter, at lest significantly, are the electronic canaries pictured in Carl’s house. And if that’s not heavy handed symbolism I don’t know what is. A canary in a cage, specifically a human generated life, an imitation. It a direct parallel to Markus, trapped by his programing. A cage. 

Excerpt on canary symbolism - It is symbolic of a transition or spiritual awakening. It may also refer to the craving of an individual for the inner child which would obviously mean innocence. ... ; in the extreme, it could mean entrapment (caged canary). - nice research DBH, well played. 

for Kara - uhh haven’t found one yet. Open to what ya’ll have found. If you do, reblog and let me know your thoughts!

If you wanna read more crazy theories, see my post on the Kamski test, where I analyze the actions of that crafty bastard. 

Petition to call the Connor x Markus ship Marker who’s with me

Random DBH art

Enjoy :)

literally him

on his way to throw his cyberlife uniform in a fire

A Sweet Discovery

Connor & gn!reader, RK900 & gn! reader

help why is the gif ENORMOUS

Analyzing… Analysis complete. Conclusion: delicious. Connor and Nines try jam for the first time.

[A/N]: WELCOME BACK EVERYBODY! I BRING CONTENT

After seeing fanart on Pinterest of tiny Connor and tiny RK900 trying jam for the first time, I had an idea that really spiraled out of control (if the word count says anything lol). Although the word 'jam' only appears 45 (!) times during this fic, I swear I've typed it out so many times that the word's become surreal to me. Like, jam, jam, jam...um, what does 'jam' mean again? Anyways...

read here on ao3

You stirred the bubbling pot on your stove, humming pleasantly. It was a lazy Saturday in the peak of summer, and you had decided to spend your free time trying your hand at canning what was abundant and in season instead of rotting on your couch or in bed. Various ingredients and equipment were strewn about your kitchen—a colander, a large jar of sugar from the pantry, cutting boards, and boxes on boxes of fruit. Alongside your pot of jam-to-be, you had set another pot of water to boil with glass jars in it to sterilize them. 

You stirred away, mind drifting, until you were pulled back to the present by the chime of your doorbell. Your head turned to the screen set up on your counter, where you saw through the footage of your doorbell camera two androids and a large Saint Bernard waiting politely at your front door. Grinning, you departed from your post at the stove momentarily to hit the button to let them in. 

“Come on in, you guys!” You called out from the kitchen. The lock clicked, and Connor let himself in, followed by Nines.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Connor piped up first. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I wanted to do something useful with my time off, so I decided to make some jam.” In a most Connor-like fashion, he tilted his head, curious. While Sumo settled contentedly on the carpet in your living room, you beckoned the androids into your sunny kitchen. “So, what brings you two here?”

“We were walking Sumo and passed by your home.” While you only lived a few blocks from Hank, you found it interesting that they had chosen to show up unannounced. “I thought we should pay you a visit.” He gave you an easy half-smile, something that had become more and more common as he grew accustomed to deviancy.

“Are we intruding? If so, we’ll be on our way—”

“Nonsense, Nines, of course you can stay,” You waved him off as you agitated the bubbling jam on the stove, which was coming along nicely. “I’m not doing anything particularly important right now. Have you two ever had jam?”

“Jam, as in…fruit cooked and preserved in sugar and other additives?” Nines inquired. “I’m afraid not, Detective. We were designed to analyze samples of organic matter from crime scenes. Jam, so far, has not been one of those samples.” You chuckled at his response. 

“Well, would you like to?” You pulled the glass jars out of the pot of water and onto an awaiting towel with a pair of tongs, all while stirring your jam. “I’ve got some blueberry jam in those jars on the kitchen table.” You reached for your utensil drawer and handed a spoon to Connor. “Try it.”

Connor took the spoon and eyed the jars on your kitchen table, LED spinning. Taking the lid off of one, he spooned out a generous dollop of the dark purple substance, which stuck to the spoon and slid off lazily when he put the spoon in his mouth. 

Silence passed over you and the androids; the only sounds in the kitchen were the burbling of your jam and your spoon scraping against the walls of the pot as you watched Connor’s LED glow a bright, whirling yellow. 

The moment the jam hit Connor’s sensor-studded tongue, his processors were flooded with input. He dropped the hand holding the spoon, and the spoon fell out of his mouth and clattered onto the table. Flavor, or as much flavor as a deviant android like himself could sense, bloomed on his tongue and sent pleasant sparks coursing through his artificial nervous system. The data came flowing in as his LED continued to spin; he detected a delicious bouquet of volatile aromatic compounds and acids, no doubt from the fruit, and a torrent of carbohydrates. If he had possessed any human taste buds, he would have registered the taste of the jam as tart, sweet, and delicious.

With astonishing speed, Connor snatched up the spoon from the table, scooped out a helping of the jam, and unceremoniously shoved it into his successor’s mouth.

Nines’s LED flashed red as Connor insistently jammed ; then yellow as he processed the data he was receiving from analyzing the jam in his mouth; and then, finally, pulsing blue as he began to appreciate the jam’s agreeable taste. 

“It is…interesting.” Nines spoke when Connor finally removed the spoon from his mouth. “I have never analyzed anything like it before.”

“Yes, but how is it?” You asked. “Do you like it?”

“I cannot determine whether or not I like the data I receive from analyzing samples, Detective.” Nines cracked a small smile. “But…I would say that the sensory stimulation I received from tasting the jam was pleasant.” Upon hearing his comments, you beamed, glad to have been given the RK900 seal of approval. 

“It sounds to me like you like the jam, Nines! I’m glad.” You smiled softly as the androids chatted over the kitchen table. It was so gratifying to help androids like Connor and Nines experience things both mundane and complex without the restraints of their Cyberlife programming. Something so simple as blueberry jam, you realized, could brighten their day.

“Are these blueberries from upstate? Blueberries are currently in season in Michigan.” Connor inquired.

“Yeah, I got them from Rose’s Farm outside of Detroit. They let you pick your own blueberries and the price is pretty great for the freshness and quantity you get.” You knocked your spoon against the rim of the pot to let your now-finished jam drip off and transferred your pot onto a square pot holder to cool. Connor raised his brows upon hearing you mention the farm owned by Rose Chapman, whom he knew to have harbored deviants leading up to the day the androids had won their freedom. He had first learned of the woman from a group of androids from Jericho, not long after he had become a deviant.

“I see,” Connor mused. “Is this your first time making jam?” 

“No, it isn’t. I definitely wasn’t this good the first time around.” You laughed sheepishly, taking some jars off of your kitchen counter and presenting them to the two androids. “See, this one’s started fermenting. I noticed when I opened the jar today and it smelled off. I think I didn’t sterilize my jar right or something,” You explained. Connor dipped a spoon in the deep red jam. After a brief analysis, he determined the failed jam to be contaminated strawberry preserves.

“You are correct. I detect trace amounts of alcohol in this sample from fermentation,” He replied after a second. “I also detect a certain strain of mold. These preserves should not be consumed.”

“Yeah, I’m going to dump it. Try this one,” You held out another jar of strawberry preserves. Visually, Connor couldn’t tell what was wrong with it at first until he stuck the spoon in the jar and realized that the consistency was too thick.

“The sugars in these preserves have caramelized,” Connor concluded. 

“I kinda…screwed up and burned my preserves.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Nines reaching into the utensil drawer for a spoon to sample the contaminated strawberry preserves.

“If you would not like to waste these strawberry preserves, Detective, I could take it. Androids are not affected by mold contamination or fermentation.” He began.

“You sure? That stuff’s gonna grow some pretty gross mold colonies after some time,” You responded, wrinkling your nose. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you take some of the jam I just made? I have so much jam in my house right now and I don’t know what I’m going to do with all of it.” You screwed the lid on the blueberry jam Connor and Nines had tried and pressed it into the RK900’s hands. “Oh, and—” You hurried back to the kitchen counter to pour out some of the jam you just made into one of the sterilized jars you had left to dry. “—take this, too. It’s raspberry jam.” You handed the warm glass jar to Connor, who accepted it enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Detective. I—we appreciate your generosity.” Nines replied, pleased.

“I can’t wait to try your raspberry jam. I’m sure it’s delicious,” Connor added.

“You’re too kind, both of you.” You laughed cheerily, walking with them into the living room where Sumo raised his head to greet you. “I’ve got plenty more fruit to preserve, but I don’t want you two to keep Hank waiting for too long.” With Sumo’s leash in one hand and a jar of jam cradled carefully in the other, Connor waved goodbye and stepped out the front door. Nines followed suit, nodding politely at you.

“Thank you for showing us something new, Detective. Thanks to you, I feel like I have expanded my horizons greatly since becoming deviant.”

“It was my pleasure, Nines. You’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“Hey, whatcha eatin’, Tin Can?” 

“Blueberry jam, Detective.” Spoon still hanging out of his mouth, Nines offered the jar to Gavin. “My filtration system can only handle about a spoonful every now and then, but I enjoy the taste. Would you like some?” The abrasive detective inspected the jar with a critical eye.

“Fuck, who put you on human food?”

“Detective L/N.” Nines answered placidly. “L/N is very good at making jams.”

“Shit, is that where Connor got his jar of jam from?” asked Hank, stopping by Nines and Gavin’s desks on his way back from the breakroom. “The one he keeps on his desk alongside a spoon. I catch him eating spoonfuls of the jam from time to time.” Nines nodded.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Gavin muttered. “Androids eating jam. What’s next? Donuts?”

While Gavin’s speculations did not become a reality, Connor and Nines continued to enjoy the simple pleasure of homemade jam. It wasn’t long until their android brother Sixty discovered it, and he responded with equal enthusiasm for the stuff.

Noticing their newfound habit of shoving jam-coated spoons in their mouths during lulls in work at the precinct or after visiting particularly gruesome crime scenes, you continued bringing them different flavors of jams and preserves for them to try. What had been your way of killing time at home had become a full-fledged hobby.

“They’re my android guinea pigs,” You joked to anyone who asked. “They’re the first in line every time I experiment with a new recipe.”

Finally, after Connor had turned up on your doorstep to return emptied-out jars for the umpteenth time, you decided to teach him how to make his own jam. 

“Look, I’m not saying that I don’t want to make jam for you guys anymore. I just think you’d like it if you tried making it yourselves,” You explained. “I’m sure you can download some executable that magically gives you culinary skills through the power of software, but you’ll still need practice, right?” 

“I’m not sure, Detective—” Connor replied uneasily. “I was not built for domestic work, but I will try.” He had elected to wear an apron as you walked him through the process, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Connor standing in your kitchen wearing a red gingham apron over his impeccably neat clothes. He was eager to learn, a trait you had always liked. What he had once called “Cyberlife’s social integration module” had made him adaptable, open-minded, and a great listener. 

You had invited Connor into your kitchen on a sunny Saturday morning, much like the morning Connor and Nines had first tasted blueberry jam. By noon, he was strolling back to Hank’s place with a spring in his step, carrying a box that rattled with glass jars of his own preserves. 

Making jam soon became Connor’s new favorite hobby. He enjoyed the endless variation in recipes and tasting things other than forensic evidence. You started seeing jars of jam mysteriously popping up on your desk every couple of weeks. When you asked Hank if Connor was the jam fairy behind the gifts on your desk, the lieutenant feigned ignorance.

Connor was also able to branch out into the android community of Detroit. He began to frequent the android-populated New Jericho neighborhood that had formed after the government acknowledged androids’ personhood, where he met current and former employees of the Detroit Urban Farms project and other androids with green thumbs. They exchanged the produce they grew for the preserves he made, which they sold at a farmer’s market downtown. Connor declined a share of the profits, saying that he wanted to support the burgeoning android community with his hobby. He was building a life for himself that he had never expected to have when he was a machine, and that was enough for him.

As for Nines, his newfound sweet tooth led him to discover a different interest. On his days off, he liked to explore the city in which he was assembled. On one of his walks, he discovered a candy shop on a street corner a few paces away from Bellini Paints. There, he was introduced to the delights of various different candies. Soon enough, he couldn’t go anywhere without stashing a fistful of lemon drops or hard caramels in the pocket of his raincoat or suit jacket. His coworkers—especially his partner Gavin—found the sight of Cyberlife’s most advanced investigator android and (former) killing machine licking contentedly at a heart-shaped lollipop jarring, intimidating even. However, his penchant for hard candy endeared him to the children he encountered in his line of work—scared, stressed children who would have previously cowered away from his imposing figure and piercing stare. 

One time, Officer Miller had brought in a sandy-haired, freckled five-year-old boy who had been separated from his parents while attending a large parade. The child had wandered the streets for the whole day. The officer had found him sitting by himself on a park bench, teary-eyed. 

Upon taking him back to the precinct, the child was inconsolable, crying until his tears dried up and continuing to tremble and whimper softly for his parents. Nines, who had just returned from the scene of a crime, noticed the boy sitting on a bench across the hall from the bullpen and being attended to by an ST300-model receptionist. Nines locked eyes with the android.

How is he doing? The ST300’s LED flickered yellow as she responded,

Not very well. He hasn’t stopped crying.

I’ll see what I can do.

Nines crouched down to reach the gaze of the boy’s stormy, downcast eyes. He produced a lollipop from a pocket in his jacket, unwrapped it, and offered it to the boy.

“It’s blueberry-flavored,” Said Nines. “Blueberry is my favorite flavor. What’s yours?” The boy sniffled and jammed the treat in his mouth.

“O-orange.”

“That’s a good choice,” Nines replied with a smile. His usually stoic, frosty expression softened. “I have a brother who makes the best orange marmalade ever.” He took a seat beside the boy. 

“I a-always wanted a b-brother,” The boy hiccuped. “B-but Mommy and Daddy are g-gone, a-and—” His hiccups turned into sobs. Nines let the boy lean on him, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Nines whispered. “You’re safe here. Everything will be alright. Everything will be just fine. We’ll find your parents, I promise.” Even if it takes Cyberlife’s most advanced android to track them down. He continued murmuring soothing affirmations to the boy, whose shoulders stopped shuddering as his sobs quieted.

We just confirmed that the boy matches the description of a missing child that was reported earlier today. His parents are on the way, Connor silently informed Nines from his desk.

Understood , Nines replied. He and the child lapsed into a comfortable silence as the misty-eyed boy continued to suck on the lollipop.

“What’s your name?” Nines asked the boy.

“Luke.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Luke. My brothers call me Nines.” 

“That’s a weird name,” Luke blurted.

“My coworker, Gavin, thinks so, too.” Nines replied, side-eyeing the detective, who was idling in the bullpen. “You know, Luke, brothers are a handful. I have two—I’m the youngest.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They’re always up to something and I have to stop them from getting themselves into trouble.” Nines chuckled softly as some of his android predecessors’ antics came to mind. “My big brother, Connor, is the one who makes jam. Tell you what, I bet I can get him to make orange marmalade just for you.”

“Yeah?” Luke raised his gaze to meet Nines’s.

“A big jar, all for you.” A wide grin broke onto Luke’s cherubic face.

“I love orange mara-” Luke frowned. “Marmam-”

“Marmalade,”

“I love orange marmalade!” Luke giggled.

From the bullpen, Tina and the other officers craned their necks from where they were stationed at their desks to get a good view of Nines giving a rare, bright smile as the boy clung to his arm.

“Who knew Mr. Thirium-Pump-of-Ice was so good with kids?” Tina whispered to Gavin.

“I dunno,” Gavin whispered back. “If he didn’t act like such a stuck-up prick all the time, maybe more people would approach him. Kids included.”

“The RK900 is equipped with a social module similar to that of the RK800 line,” Connor piped up. “His software is capable of adapting to the behavior of children, including consol-”

“We get it, Connor!” Gavin whisper-shouted. 

“I think it’s kinda cute,” You offered. “Even though he’s deviant, Nines doesn’t show us this side of him often.” 

“Aww. Maybe Nines is a softy after all.” Ben joked. 

“Ooh, don’t let him hear that, Collins. You’re ruining his street cred.” Gavin retorted.

While the officers watched on, as discreet as a zebra at a horse show, Luke willingly climbed into Nines’s arms and let him carry him out to the precinct lobby where his parents were waiting anxiously. Just before he exited the bullpen, Nines cast a glance at Connor, LED flashing yellow. Connor’s LED flashed likewise.

“Connor? What’s up?” You asked as the RK800 stared off into the distance. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get some good oranges, would you, Detective?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~end or something idk~~~~~~~~~

[A/N]: I initially wanted Nines or Sixty to discover honey/take up beekeeping after discovering jam/fruit preserves...but then I realized that bees are extinct in Detroit: Become Human :( hope you guys liked this little tangent! until next time x

let me know if you want to be part of my general taglist!

Happy activation day to the boy!!

The Hostage occurred on this day 14 years into the future.

Baby Fever pt. 1: Prologue

Connor x f!Detective!reader (sorta?)

Connor finds himself caring for a baby while at the DPD. Baby fever quickly begins to spread.

[A/N]: (nervous laughing) so like this was written by a person who has never taken care of an infant for a prolonged period of time— Any parents and experienced baby-rearers out there, please forgive me for any inaccuracies. I could only do so much without making my Google Search history look highly suspect, or at least more so than it already is.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence and drug (Red Ice) use (happens before the actual story takes place)

pt. 2 >>

read here on ao3

It was a bitterly cold day in Detroit. Muddy slush from the snowstorm earlier that week was collecting on the sidewalks. Pedestrians slogged on through, their boots and sneakers creating divots and valleys in the already grimy snow. A woman pushed her three-hundred-dollar stroller through the snow, her burbling child jostled gently with each bump. 

Not more than a few meters away, a different woman hurried along with a bundle close to her chest. She rounded the corner and through a set of sliding doors into the bustling lobby of Detroit PD’s Central Station. 

“Hello, miss. How can I help you?” The android receptionist at the front desk greeted the woman cordially. 

“My baby and I are in danger,” the woman began. Her voice was taut with worry. “Her father is addicted to Red Ice…he’s after us.”

“Right this way,” The receptionist showed her to the gates to the inner complex of the precinct, her expression worried. The woman, clutching her child, followed the android to a bench in a quiet area near the bullpen. “Wait here, please. Someone will help you soon.” With that, the ST-300 disappeared behind the DPD’s double doors, returning to her post at the front desk. 

The woman gazed at her baby’s wet eyes and smooth, unsullied skin. She knew she hadn’t been the best mother, but she’d done what she could given the circumstances. For most of the short time they’d spent together with that excuse of a man she had for a husband, they’d barely had enough money and food stamps to stay afloat. She’d skipped meals to be able to afford formula. 

When she first got pregnant, everything seemed fine. Both she and her husband were working; they could cover rent, food, and bills. But then, during her second trimester, things got rough. Her husband lost his job and started leaving the house for hours on end under the guise of ‘job searching’. She soon noticed the changes in his mood; the time he spent away from the house got longer; it wasn’t much longer until she, in her third trimester of pregnancy and nearing her delivery date, realized that her husband had quickly stopped searching for a job and started dealing—and doing—Red Ice. 

When she finally delivered her baby daughter, alone in the wee hours of the morning, she wept. Not tears of joy, but tears of regret, grieving for the life her daughter had been born into. She would have to quit her job to take care of her; in the meantime, she would have to find a way to escape from that terrible man. 

Now, here she was, cradling her child on a bench in Detroit’s center-city precinct.

“Hey there,” Someone whispered softly. “I’m Detective Y/N L/N. I’m here to help you.” The woman raised her gaze to see you stooping slightly to smile at her and her child. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” She replied. 

“Okay. I was told you and your child were being threatened,” The woman nodded.

“My husband. He was high on Red Ice…he found out I was saving up some of the money he made from dealing to escape.” She offered her thumb for the baby in her arms to grasp. “I need to find someplace safe for me and my daughter.” 

“I understand,” You responded. “We’ll use any resource we have to help you get somewhere safe.” You glanced at the child—a cherubic little thing with pale blue eyes and wispy blonde hair. “However, I would like to hear about your husband’s situation as well. I’m a part of Detroit PD’s Red Ice Division, and…” The woman’s eyes widened slightly. “...I’d like it if you told me as much as you can about your husband’s Red Ice dealings, for your own safety and our ongoing investigations into Detroit’s Red Ice networks.”

The woman nodded shakily. 

“Of course,” She answered. “I’ll tell you everything I know. Anything to stop that man from harming my family, or anyone else’s.”

“Detective?” You glanced over your shoulder to see Connor approaching you from the bullpen. 

“Connor,” You greeted the android detective. “Can I help you?” When Connor’s eyes fell upon the woman and child sitting before you, he raised his eyebrows. 

“I apologize, I didn’t know you were preoccupied. I came to tell you about the interview notes for the Lance case.” Connor turned to leave.

“About that,” You caught his shoulder, prompting him to turn back around. “This woman and her child are on the run from a family member. Red ice dealer and addict.” You informed in a low voice, so the woman wouldn’t hear.

“Ah.”

“This is Connor,” You presented the android to the pair. “He’s an android investigator. Normally, he works with the Android Crimes Division, but he’s helping me with a case right now.” You locked eyes with Connor again. “So, we have two things to accomplish. First, find a safe place for her and the baby. Second, investigate the husband.”

“I’ll do my best to help you catch that man,” The woman reiterated. “Still, I want to stay with my daughter, but I have nowhere to go. I’ll relinquish her if that means keeping her safe.”

Connor crouched down and smiled at the baby in the woman’s arms. The baby let go of her mother’s thumb to reach out to Connor, making grabby hands at his LED, which had turned a swirling yellow.

Inside his HUD, Connor saw a text box appear. 

“Michigan’s Safe Delivery of Newborns law stipulates that a baby may be confidentially relinquished by biological parent(s) to emergency service providers within 72 hours of delivery.”

He also saw a pop-up with the baby’s birth date and birth certificate, provided to him from the state’s vital records by way of the DPD. From that information, he determined the baby to be around six months old.

“She’s too old to be relinquished. Newborns must be relinquished within 72 hours of delivery, per state laws.” Connor stated. “I will conduct a search for homes and shelters suitable for mothers and their children.” 

“We’ll get you back on your feet, I promise.” You added reassuringly. “Would you mind giving us a statement?” 

“Absolutely.” The woman stood. “What do I need to do?”

Let me know if you want to be part of my general, Connor, or Detroit taglists!

Baby Fever pt. 2: Baby Fever

Connor x f!Detective!reader (I guess?)

The baby fever takes hold.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse and drug (Red Ice) use (happens before the story takes place)

<< pt. 1

read here on ao3

“We could be here for a long time. Are you okay going into the room without your daughter?” The woman nodded, glancing into the corridor where Connor was shifting her daughter in his arms. From what she could tell, he was doing it right, supporting her head and neck and all, but he looked somewhat bewildered, like a fish out of water. It was obvious that he had never held a baby before. “We’ll make sure she’s safe and cared for. In the meantime…” You showed her into the interview room and took a seat at the solitary table. From the other side of the mirror, you knew your fellow officers and detectives were watching, recording the conversation, taking notes, and cross-referencing them with their other notes from the ongoing investigations. “...let’s start from the beginning.”

Outside the interview room, Connor softly rocked the woman’s daughter. His system was running dozens of processes at a time, searching the web, employing executables, trying to figure out this new feeling of holding a tiny human in his arms. 

“Tin-can! What the hell are you—” Gavin, passing on his way to one of the holding cells, stopped dead in his tracks. “Is that a baby?!” 

“Yes, Detective,” Connor replied placidly. 

“Did you learn to procreate or something? Where’d you snatch it from?”

“ She is the daughter of Detective L/N’s interviewee.” Connor cast a sidelong glance at the detective. “Until they are finished, I will be caring for the infant.” Gavin made a face.

“Geez, if only Miller were here. He’d know what to do with the kid,” Gavin remarked. “Say, does Collins have any kids?” 

“Hey, what’s going on with you two?” Hank appeared in the corridor, a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Get your alcoholic ass outta here, Anderson. It’s bad for the baby!” Gavin gestured at Connor and the infant. 

“First of all, Reed, I’ve been sober for months now. Second of all, you wouldn’t know how to care for the little one even if someone shoved a baby book up your—” The lieutenant stopped himself and dragged a palm down his face, groaning. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken care of a little kid.” His eyes softened as he approached Connor and the baby. “Well, at least you’re doin’ something right with the way you’re holding ‘em. Have they been fed? Changed?”

“Maybe the baby’s better off at the children’s hospital,” Gavin suggested.

“Her mother explicitly stated that she would prefer not to be separated from her child,” Connor replied. “She is about six months old. Her mother said she fed her some formula this morning. However, according to growth charts for her age, she seems to be somewhat underweight.” 

“Hmm. She and mom must’ve had it rough.” Hank mused. “Tell you what, just keep her engaged. Make sure she’s comfortable.”

“Got it,” Connor nodded dutifully to his partner in the Android Crimes Division. As Hank moved to return to his desk, Connor felt the baby begin to squirm and fuss in his arms. 

“Uh-oh,” Said Gavin, backing away.

“Lieutenant, what’s going on?” Connor asked, panicking slightly as the baby continued to wiggle. He extended his arms slightly, as if to pass off the baby to Hank.

“She’s probably been swaddled like that all day. Let her down, let her crawl and play with her a little. Just,” Hank jabbed a finger at Connor. “Make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Keep her away from the choking hazards and anything that could fall on her.”

“Got it,” Connor repeated, unswaddling the baby from under the thick blankets her mother had wrapped her in to protect her from the elements. Underneath the baby wore a soft but too-big white and pink onesie. Hank sighed and went on his way, Gavin trailing behind him and casting a few glances back at Connor and the baby, who was now exploring the floor of the hallway.

“I’m too old for this,” Connor heard Hank mutter. “Don’t miss it at all.”

“Yeah, right, old man,” Gavin retorted.

Connor returned his attention to the child. Blinking, he revisited the information box in his HUD.

“Alexis,” He said tentatively. He knelt on the ground, observing the child crawl unsteadily. The baby made a garbled sound that sounded something akin to “Ba?” 

Connor questioned the functionality of his auditory sensors. When the infant repeated the sound, he questioned the functionality of his thirium pump.  

“I’m not your father,” He replied gently. “Your mother will be back soon.” Connor sat down cross-legged on the floor, holding his hands out to baby Alexis as she crawled towards him. “Your mother must have named you. She chose a beautiful name.” Alexis made her way towards Connor’s outstretched hand and tried to grab it. He helped her latch her tiny little hands—so soft!—onto his artificial ones. 

“Oh—! Oh!” Connor exclaimed. “There you go!” He gently lifted Alexis to her full height, watching her try to find purchase on her stubby, socked feet. Little Alexis squealed, stumbling a little while Connor tried to support her. Connor found himself grinning with delight at the sight of the baby standing shakily before him. This feeling was new to his software—he had never felt such a bright, warm emotion before, not even when he had first met you, or when he had first become deviant. Perhaps this was why humans valued parenthood so much—or at least, some people did.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approach him and gasp.

“A baby!” It was Officer Chen, rushing to fawn over Connor and the infant. “Oh my God! Connor, where did you—Collins, you gotta come see this!” Connor heard footsteps in the hallway behind him, but he kept his attention on Alexis. 

“Chen, what the—” Collins watched in disbelief as Connor helped Alexis stand. 

“Aren’t they so cute?” Tina gushed. “I wish I had my phone on me. This is adorable!”

“She is cute,” Connor admitted. He let go of the giggling child’s hands momentarily to scoop her up, hands under her armpits, hoisting her into the air. Kicking her feet, the girl’s squeal attracted more curious officers, who began to cluster around Connor and the cooing six-month-old. 

Meanwhile, you listened intently to Alexis’s mother, Samantha, as she recounted the past six months to you.

“I gave birth to Alexis alone,” Samantha began. “At Henry Ford. My husband was coming home later than ever. I couldn’t reach him on the phone. He wasn’t there when I went into labor, so I called an automated taxi with what little money I had.

When I returned home with Alexis, he was still out. When he finally came back, I could tell he was still coming off of a high. But then…” Samantha lowered her gaze. “I noticed he had wads of cash in his pockets. He had it in brown lunch bags, plastic baggies…money from his deals. 

I kept Alexis far, far away from him in those times. I doubt he even registered that she’d been born in those first few days; he was always high. So, when he was really out of it, really dissociating, I started taking some of the money from his deals. 

After a few weeks, he started to notice. He got more careful in counting the money he made. He started suspecting me, threatening to hurt me or the baby. He’d never hurt me before, but losing his job and taking up Red Ice really…transformed him. Not long after he started threatening me, I found a gun…” Samantha started sniffling. You reached out a hand to gingerly comfort her, massaging her trembling shoulder.

“It’s okay,” You soothed. “Take your time.”

“I found a gun in the TV console,” Samantha shook her head. “That’s when I knew I had to get out. But I didn’t have enough money to pay for a place to stay. I tried, I really did, to stall as long as I could. Maybe steal an extra ten dollars or so. But he chased us out. Threatened me with that gun. And here I am.” 

“I’m so sorry, Samantha. You and your daughter deserve someplace safe and secure.” She held your hand in a tight grasp as she wept quietly. “Did you know where he was going when he left the house? Who was he with?”

“All those nights, I don’t know where he went off to,” Samantha answered, shaking her head yet again. “But…people kept calling him. Unsaved contacts. I caught some of the voicemails, from people talking about someone called Nate…”

“Nate…” Could it be? “Nathan Lance?” 

“Who’s that?”

“A prominent drug dealer, with control over almost forty percent of the Red Ice going in and out of Detroit. I’ve been on his trail for weeks.” You stood up. “Do you have any idea where your husband could be right now?” 

“He’s probably gone off to get high somewhere,” Samantha answered. “I’m sorry. He could be anywhere.” 

“We’re going to find your husband, Samantha, and take him in. If we can get through to him, we can get to Lance. With your testimony and any evidence we gather, we could press several charges against him. Illegal possession of a weapon and illicit drugs, threats of bodily harm, the like.” You squeezed Samantha’s hand. “He won’t ever lay a finger on you or your daughter if I can help it.”

“Thank you,” Tears welled in Samantha’s tired eyes. “This means everything to me.” She stood from her seat and made her way around the table to embrace you. You smiled sentimentally, returning the hug. 

“You’re a strong woman, Samantha.” You said. “I truly wish for the best for you and your daughter.”

When you stepped out of the interview room, you caught sight of Samantha’s daughter gumming contentedly on a plain rice cake taken from somebody’s snack stash. Someone had also brought a small stuffed leopard from their desk for her to play with. Your eyes lit up when you saw Connor watching the baby gnaw on the puck of puffed rice with a look on his face you’d never seen before.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” Connor smiled warmly up at you. “Hank left to get some unsweetened applesauce for her.” 

“Looks like she’s having fun,” You replied. 

“I’m so glad,” Samantha sighed. She lowered herself to the ground and wrapped her arms around her infant daughter, running a gentle hand over Alexis’s barely-there hair. “Thank you for taking care of her, Connor.” Alexis giggled. 

“Looks like she likes you,” You remarked, grinning at Connor. You offered your finger to Alexis, like her mother had earlier, and Alexis nearly dropped the rice cake. Connor quickly caught it, leaving the baby to play with you. 

“The baby fever’s spread like wildfire, eh?” Hank emerged from the bullpen with a six-pack of baby applesauce and some papers.

“Who can help it?” You replied. “Alex is such a little angel.” Hank rolled his eyes.

“By the way, Connor, Ben gave me the list you asked for. Women’s shelters around the city, willing to accept Samantha and Alexis for a time.” Hank handed him the list, which Connor leafed through before handing to Samantha.

“Wonderful. You and Alexis should have a safe place to stay until you can support yourselves again,” He addressed the mother as she flipped through the packet. 

Finally letting go of little Alexis’s hand, you stood up and adjusted your clothes. 

“Once the paperwork’s done with, Connor and I can take you to whichever place works best for you,” You offered. Samantha stood as well, scooping Alexis up in her arms. 

“I would like that very much,” She replied. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Late that night, you unlocked the door to your apartment. You hung up your jacket, kicked off your shoes, and tossed your bag onto your couch. You flopped onto the cushions with a sigh. Connor followed you in, depositing his own belongings and taking his spot next to you on the couch. 

“So…” You mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder as you felt your tired body melt into the cushions. “...the baby.”

“She was cute,” Connor replied. 

“Oh, yeah?” You teased. “I bet you’re thinking of getting your own baby, huh?” You didn’t miss the slight tint that colored Connor’s cheeks.

“Unfortunately, that can’t happen for you and I.”

“Yeah. Not unless we get one of those YB model prototypes Cyberlife was working on before the revolution.” That had been a weird case for the Android Crimes Division—investigating the project Cyberlife had put on hold when deviancy exploded across the country. 

“Y/N, you know that wouldn’t be the same.”

“Well, there are other options.” You shuffled closer to Connor, who took you into his arms and rested his chin on your head. “Adoption, maybe.”

“Maybe.” You leaned on Connor’s chest, savoring the reverberations of his soft chuckle. 

“Baby fever got you good, huh?” You grinned up at him.

“I may be an android, but it appears I am not immune to this ‘baby fever’.”

I wrote this all in one go in the middle of the night, because that's how I function sometimes (: it was NOT supposed to include mentions of domestic abuse or Red Ice when I first started brainstorming I SWEAR anyways hope you enjoyed! x

Let me know if you want to be part of my general, Connor, or Detroit taglists!

Playful Banter

~

Summary: A little friendly sparring session!

Pairing: Connor x Reader

Word Count: 905

~

“Oh, absolutely not!” You turned in your swivel chair, deciding that the current case on your computer was far more interesting than the android behind you.

“Ohhhh, [Name], why not!” Connor pressed, nudging your shoulder, “It’ll be fun!”

You let out an exasperated sigh, dropping your head back against your seat– to which Connor promptly leaned over you. You had to hold back a laugh because the position immediately reminded you of something out of a movie. 

“It’ll be anything but fun. No offense, but you’re literally built like a machine.”

Connor pursed his lips, “I’ll go easy on you.” 

“That defeats the purpose of sparring!”

Connor huffed, turning your chair back around to face him. He placed his hands on the arm wrests, practically looming over you. A few months ago this would have flustered you to no end and he would’ve teased you relentlessly for your rosy cheeks. Today you met him head on. 

“You’re causing a scene.” You murmured. 

“Would it help if you lost in the safety of your apartment? Wouldn’t want anyone to see, y’know.”

You gaped at him, furrowing your brows, “I’m not scared of losing!”

Connor hummed, tilting his head at you, “You sound pretty scared. In fact, I think you’re starting to cluck. Like a chicken.” 

You leaned in until your lips were almost brushing against his, “I’m going to kick your little android butt.”

–

 You had two options here. Take the offensive position or the defensive position. Connor was built for this. As an android he didn’t run out of stamina, air in his lungs, or feel even remotely tired. He’d go easy on you in the sense that he wouldn’t use all of his brute android force, but he wasn’t going to let you win. He could predict your movements faster than you could execute them. 

You could choose to go in and use up all your energy assaulting him or you could block his oncoming assault. Either way, you drew the short end of the stick. 

You took a wide stance on the mat, leaning into your back foot. 

Defense it was.

“I could turn on sparring mode and initiate false stamina.”

You gave him a look and he held his hands up in surrender, “Your loss.”

The two of you danced around each other for a moment; You bouncing on the balls of your feet, Connor flat footed and with an almost dangerous look in his eye. He was definitely seeing your vital signs right now. While yes, you were absolutely reeling about potentially losing, but Connor had also been relentlessly teasing you all day. This sparring match was just the icing on the cake. 

You swallow and beckon him forward with a couple flicks of your fingers. 

He smirks.

Connor throws the first punch and you dodge, swiftly side stepping him but he sweeps his foot under your leg and effectively knocks you to the ground. 

He’s set the tone for the fight instantaneously.

You’re built pretty decently, have to be as a detective, right? But holy fuck, you couldn’t compare to the literal hunk of metal that had badgered you into training with him.

You let out a groan as your head collides with the mat. 

“Still don’t want me to turn on sparring mode?” He’s leaning over you again, continuing this trend of being so close he could kiss you. He doesn’t though. 

“Shut up.” You huffed, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you back onto your feet. 

You throw the first jab this time and he catches your fist in his hand, easily overpowering you. 

“Come on, [Name], is that all you’ve got?” He teases, tilting his head at you. That stupid piece of loose hair falls over his eyes and you’re briefly distracted by how hot he looks right now. Your eyes glance to his lips and immediately back up. 

You mentally shake yourself out of it and opt to jab your other fist into his torso, only for him to catch that one too. Connor spins you around, crossing your arms over your chest and holding you back against him; like some kind of mock straight-jacket. 

You can feel heat along your neck, his synthetic breathing, and it makes you shiver.

“Someone’s distracted.” 

You lean your head back against his shoulder, letting out a soft breath.

"Yeah. You are."

You adjust your stance, placing your foot between Connor’s legs before abruptly kicking his foot out from under him. He falls to the mat, taking you with him but he’s stunned enough that you’re able to wrestle yourself out of his grip.

You adjust yourself with lighting speed, settling yourself on his chassis and slamming his wrists to the foam. You both lay there for a moment, your chest heaving as you recover.

“Point: Me.” You say triumphantly, crossing your arms, albeit breathless. 

You’re too busy basking in your glory to notice the smug grin on Connor’s face. 

A yelp escapes you as the android abruptly flips you onto your back, pinning your wrists to the mat. All arrogance leaves your body as you meet Connor's eyes. He’s so close you can see every detail on his face. You can feel his torso moving against you as his inner-workings replicate human breath.

“Your cheeks are flushed.” He hummed, murmuring against your lips. 

“Oh my god. Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Anyone remember him?

Everybody is drawing this meme, so i came up with something for them