QUOTE COMPENDIUM ⊳ connor x reader

Ch. X

OK SO UMMM?? AGAIN BEFORE YOU START THIS CHAPTER PLEASE HAVE A LOOK AT THIS PIECE OF ART THAT LITERALLY MADE ME CRY TEARS OF ACTUAL HAPPINESS, CURED MY DEPRESSION AND WATERED MY CROPS. It's just— I love it. And I love @dr-margatsni for showing my horrible fanfiction to their friend, and @canihaspie for deciding to take some time out of their life to draw this? I'm just shooketh— Y'all are just so talented and I love every single one of you

"Would you want me to tell you where we're going?" Connor asked for the third time since they had begun their drive back to Detroit, however (y/n) only shook her head and focused on writing things inside the Quote Compendium.

"We're driving back to Detroit, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm fine with knowing just that." She huffed and leaned back in her seat, tapping the pen against an empty notebook page. "Though I could try guessing where we're going, if you give me clues."

"It's a pretty empty place."

"The junkyard?"

"No."

"Uuuh...a bar?"

"No."

"A shitty neighborhood."

"No."

"An...insane asylum?"

"No."

She sighed, then shrugged her shoulders. "Give me another clue."

"It provides a good view over Detroit."

"No idea." (Y/n) shook her head and closed the Compendium. "A ferris wheel or something?"

"No."

"Ugh, goddamnit. Another clue."

"You'd be a terrible detective." Connor answered, unable to refrain from smiling when he looked at (y/n), and how silly her appearance was. Her features were formed into a thoughtful frown, and the flower crown on her head had tipped downwards again.

"Well, that's why I'm not one." She bit her lip, something that made Connor's insides tingle, and somehow...gave him the urge to bite his own as well. "Another clue."

Taking a deep breath to regain his almost lost composure, Connor added: "It has to do with water."

"Lake?"

"No."

"Oh my god." She grunted in frustration. "I give up."

"Do you want me to tell you?" Connor asked with a sly smile. (Y/n) opened her mouth to say something before her eyes settled on his smug expression. She furrowed her brows, fists clenching in determination.

"No, that would mean I failed!"

"Alright." He looked back at the road, calculating the fastest route back to Detroit as he continued talking. "Care to try again?"

"Yeah." She nodded her head and started playing with her hands in her lap. "Okay, let's see. You said it's quiet, and that it provides a good view over Detroit. And that it has to do with water. Uuuh...a bridge?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" She looked at him with wide eyes, then bounced in her seat as soon as Connor gave her another nod of confirmation. "I guessed it! Ha, I guessed it! See, I'd be a decent detective after all."

Connor could only huff in amusement, unable to resist her contagious laughter.

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"Is this the place?" (Y/n) asked, uncrossing her legs and putting on her shoes. It had been a good few hours since they had decided to drive back to Detroit, but they had made it right on time: it was 11 pm, and the city was as lively as ever.

(Y/n) unlocked her door and stepped outside, and Connor followed suit. From the goosebumps forming on (y/n)'s skin, he could only guess that the temperature had gotten rather chilly.

Their shoes pattered against dry, cold asphalt as the both of them hurried to the bridge. The girl leaned her elbows against the railing as she waited for Connor to join her.

The Android reached the railing only seconds after her, and decided to prop his forearms against it and take a deep breath to cool his system.

"Woah." She spoke up, taking in the sight in front of her, then quickly reached for Connor's arm, patting it to get his already received attention. "Look, Connor."

"I know." He answered, quite enjoying the way her arm linked with his as she continued watching the flickering of the harlequin city lights, and the way they looked like an oil painting as they reflected on the water's surface.

The Android couldn't deny that the city was absolutely stunning, and yet he couldn't pry his gaze away from (y/n). The way all the neon colors settled on her face and neck, painting her face with almost every shade imaginable made him want to brush his fingers over her skin.

"This place is wonderful." She took a deep, exhausted breath and leaned the side of her head against Connor's shoulder. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're very welcome." He said, though his voice-box seemed to be malfunctioning, nothing but a whisper coming out. "I...used to spend a lot of time here before."

She went silent for a few seconds, then took her head off of Connor's shoulder. He was already missing the contact between them.

"Before what?"

Those words sounded oddly familiar, even though they came from a person he had only known for roughly 48 hours.

"Before Hank died." He answered with unusual ease. The ache in his chest was still there, but it wasn't...strangulating, or overwhelming. It felt like he could live with it. Like the stinging of a slowly healing wound, it was there, but it was bearable.

"So you've never visited this place after he died?"

"It felt like I was intruding on something that didn't really belong to me." Connor tried to explain. "And it was a part of my past that didn't have to do with grief. I didn't want to ruin it with my emotions."

"Are you still scared?"

"Scared...no, not scared. Guilty, maybe." He sighed and rubbed his hands together. "Or at least I always thought I would feel that way, but...I don't."

"Then don't." She shrugged her shoulders. "Don't force yourself to feel something. That's not how it works. And there is nothing to feel guilty about."

How did she always know exactly what to say? Connor could've sworn it had to be some sort of supernatural power, but them again, maybe he was just bad at being human.

"Thank you, (y/n)."

"What for?" She smiled gently, though her eyes were watching him carefully.

"Everything." Connor bit his lip. "For always knowing exactly what to say."

"Well, if we're at it, then thank you for this adventure, Connor." She added. "Do you have an idea for our last roadtrip location?"

Connor urged his processors to work faster, searching his memory for any suggestions.

And he blamed his sudden idea on the fact that when (y/n) was around, he felt invincible. And that it was about time he did something against his irrational fear.

"Could we...visit my old friend's grave?"