Detroit Become Human x Readers

Tears (Connor x Reader)

Lazy Sundays were always the best thing to you. Lying in bed, letting the sun fan across your bed-sheets and bare skin, or wrapping up to block out the cold and the noise of bustling Detroit. Sundays were good for staying in, and it was only recently that you’d convinced Connor to think the same way.

He didn’t need sleep, but he still tried it. Lying in bed with your head on his chest as he ran tentative fingers through your hair. Everything was still new, and he was still learning how to be this intimate. Testing boundaries, trying things out. He found he liked moments like these the most. Peaceful, without having to worry about deviants or police work or danger. He could just lie in bed, with his arms around your form, listening to the steady sound of your breath.

You weren’t a picture of grace, maybe that was true. Leaning on his arm with an open mouth, drool trickling onto the pillow, a gentle snore rumbling in your chest. You weren’t a picture of grace, no, but that didn’t stop the ache in his heart when he watched you stir, or his lips from ghosting your forehead as you mumbled an exhausted ‘good morning’.

Yes, this wasn’t what he was intended to do. So far from his manufactured purpose of hunting and killing. If Amanda could see him now, he’s sure she would be taken by rage, ordering him to cease and desist. His display would flicker, show errors across his eyes with walls blocking every movement. Those were things of a distant past now, somehow that makes this moment all the sweeter.

“Good morning.” He says in a voice maybe a little too loud as you cringe, lifting a hand over your eyes with a long groan. He feels a smile pulling onto his face, a hand moving to thread itself in your tangled hair. Humans, so messy and strange. Emotionally he could feel himself becoming like them every day. It was a frightening process, but not a necessarily bad one. A display came up as he quickly checked the weather forecast, traffic, and every other thing he could likely turn on the news for.

“The temperature is 9°.” He tells you as you curl into him, fists tightening around the night-shirt that he only ever wore for aesthetics. You let out another long whine, and he has to stop himself from laughing as he kisses your forehead again.

This sort of intimacy was what he loved. Tender and light, comforting and gentle. Sighing heavily, you shifted in his arms, trying to get closer and warmer.

“I’m not getting up.” You tell him with what he assumes is supposed to be a serious tone, played down by the yawn that escapes you mid-sentence. He knows there’s no point in trying to convince you otherwise, you’d find a way to make him stay.

“I know.” He tells you, as you finally find a place to settle on his arm. His face is centimetres from yours, and in the light of the late morning, he can see every mark, every freckle. The bags under your eyes, the gentle knit of your brows as you stare at him with an adoration he only now knows how much he appreciates. Your breath fans his face, as your hand rubs sleep away with clumsy, exhausted movements. Though he doesn’t need to, his breath still catches. His chest still constricts, and he cannot seem to look anywhere else.

“I love you.” He breathes it out like a prayer, feeling his blue blood rising to his cheeks as he does. For a moment he thinks it was too quiet for you to have heard, or that you were too tired to even register it at all. These hopes are dashed as he watches your eyes well up with tears, a hand going to your mouth.

His servos whirring, panic rising in every part of him as you begin to cry. He’s never done this before, but he knows that this is certainly not the reaction one was supposed to get. Not to a confession. He must have done something wrong, maybe he had moved too quick? His brain tries to recall memories, advice Hank gave him, anything to rectify this situation that he most definitely had ruined.

“I’m sorry, I-” He begins, unable to keep the slight hurt out of his voice before he’s cut off by your arms wrapping around him, your face burying into his neck. He’s silent from the shock more than anything as you speak, your speech in broken sobs.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry I’m just,” You break into another fit of what sounds to be a mix of sobs and laughter. A quick scan shows that you’re showing some signs of shock. When you pull away, one of your hands goes to cup his cheek, the other covering your face which he can see is red in embarrassment. “I didn’t expect this- I’m so c-caught off g-guard- fuck. I do love you- s-so much and-and I’m so happy.” You hiccup, laughing a little at your absurd outburst.

Connor laughs too, though it’s a little forced and nervous. He can’t help but stress about the utterly terrifying feelings that had settled in his stomach and chest. He knows you wouldn’t do that- you wouldn’t hurt him, but logic wasn’t so easy to follow with his muddled thoughts and emotions, dirtying the water and muddying his mind. Things are clearer when he feels your fingertips brush his, grounding him for the moment.

“You had me worried there for a second.” He confesses, the stress leaving him in a shaky breath. Wiping your eyes you shake your head, running a thumb along his index finger, an apologetic look in your eyes.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Your thumb goes, lightly touching his shoulder before coming up to brush his cheekbone, and he leans into the touch. There’s a pause as you kiss his forehead and then his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He shivers at the touch, all the more sensitive with your confession so recently on your lips. When you pull away, he can’t help but notice you sniffle.

“It’s okay. Are you okay?” He asks as you wipe more tears, nodding and waving a hand nonchalantly with another giggle.
“I’m fine, I’m b-being dumb. I’m dumb.” You tell him as his hands move, touching your face now as he brushes away stray tears and strands of hair, pulling the covers further up around your shoulders, wrapping you up.
“You’re not dumb,” He says with a sweet sincerity. “You’ve… you’ve made me happy.” He knows his face is likely a dark blue at this point, but it’s hard to care, with the dreamy smile you have on your face.

“Are you happy?” He’s sure you are, but there’s something tugging at him that makes him ask. A need for assertion- validation that he had yet to shake since finally parting himself from Amanda. You shake your head with another laugh, arms moving around his neck to pull him into a long and passionate kiss. Connor feels his head spin with the force you put, teeth clacking against his, a hand lazily tugging at a few strands of his hair.

“You have no idea.” You breathe, parting for a moment kiss his nose, before pulling him in again, nipping softly at his bottom lip.

Lying in bed all Sunday was always fun, but then again it’s hard to top a morning spent in the arm of someone you love with all your heart.