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not-neverland06 · 1 year

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Broken Machinery

Pt. 8 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I honestly hate Josh with a passion. I hate how he tries to make me a good person while I’m blowing shit up. Plus that little bitch Simon, was so willing to abandon North if she gets a shoulder shot while Jericho’s being raided.

Did I let my inner wattpad kid out with the traumatic backstory? Yes, yes I did.

We might see Connor-60 again, who knows?

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Josh dies (sorry, not sorry), android revolution, emotions, word vomit, I’m pretty sure I blacked out and then like seven thousand words shot out of me, Idek, kissing?

Word Count: 7.8k

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

You hated how attractive you found Connor in his undercover gear.

Man looked good in a beanie.

He hadn’t exactly been willing to let you tag along, but you’d told him you either went with his supervision or without.

You’d stolen the clothes from Hank’s house so you both looked like hobos.

You stepped off the train, Connor leading you around downtown Detroit looking for the different symbols. He had to help you a few times because even when you were at your best you couldn’t matrix your way up a wall. You almost felt bad, slowing him down, but you had business on that ship, business you could only complete with Connor by your side.

Connor kept a firm grasp on your arm as he led you through the freighter. You both needed to stay calm and not draw any attention to yourselves. You nudged his shoulder as you walked into the main room of the ship, “It’s rigged.”

In the middle of the room were blocks of C-4 on standby mode. He went to examine them and by the time he turned around you were already gone. “Y/N,” he whispered. He told you to stay next to him.

Where did you go? He was heading towards the stairs, hoping to get a better view from above, when something stopped him.

An android, with wires coming out of her head and something leaking down her eyes. “You’re lost. You’re looking for something,” my stubborn partner, that refuses to listen. “You’re looking for yourself.” She walked away.

“Is he here?”

North, Simon, Markus, and Josh were all staring at you. Waiting for your answer, “Yes. You know by bringing him here, he’s gonna lead the FBI right to you.”

They nodded and North spoke, “That’s a risk we have to take.”

You looked towards Markus, eyes pleading, “There’s still time.”

Markus smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. “You’ve been a wonderful ally to us, Y/N. Supplying us with blue blood and helping stray deviants onto the right path. Now I need you to trust me. Don’t you want Connor to go deviant?”

You pulled away from him, “Of course I do, but at the cost of all the lives here, it’s not worth it.”

North smiled, “Your commitment to the cause is heartening to see, it gives me hope,” she gestures out towards the rest of the boat. “It gives all of us hope that one day, we’ll be able to work together in harmony. If Markus says he needs Connor deviant, if he runs the risk of the FBI locating us, then trust that it’s for a good reason.”

You relented, still a little unwilling, but you relented. “I should go, he’ll notice I’m gone.”

“Trust me, Y/N, I know what I’m doing.”

You did trust him, but that didn’t mean you felt any better about lying to Connor.

Connor turned around to see you standing there smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back and braids still under the scarf he had wrapped around your neck. “Where did you go?”

You shrugged, “I got bored, I wanted to look around.” Connor scanned you, there was a slightly faster beat to your heart than normal, but that could be easily equated to the stress of being undercover. Everything else seemed normal, he nodded, still slightly skeptical and directed you towards the top of the boat.

“He’s here,” Connor pulled his gun, stepping outside and sneaking his way around to the captains cabin. Your eyes widened at the sight of his gun.

“Connor, what the hell is that for?”

“I always accomplish my missions, Y/N, this is why we’re here.” You drew your own gun and remained silent beside him. He wondered what he did to upset you, it seemed you were always upset about something with him.

Amanda was already in front of him by the time he entered the zen garden. “Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

He waited until the last deviant had left to enter into the room where Markus now stood alone.

You followed slowly behind him, your gun still at your side. “I’ve been ordered to take you alive, but I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.” Markus didn’t seem surprised to see him, if anything he looked resigned.

“You were right,” Markus was looking over Connor’s shoulder. Was there someone else in the room?

When Connor turned, it was just you. “He’s still highly obedient. This will be more challenging than I thought.” Did you know Markus? Were you talking about Connor with him? Why?

“Yes, you can shoot me,” he was struggling, looking between your ashamed face and Markus’s self-assured one. “But it won’t change anything. Someone else will just take my place.” Markus was slowly moving closer and you were moving towards him.

What hadn’t you told him?

You said partnerships were built on trust. How long had you been lying to him?

“Our people are waking up, and nothing can stop us now.”

“You’re coming with me!”

“Think about it Connor, what will happen to Y/N if you shoot me?” Connor looked back at you, you were standing in the middle of them, not blocking Connor’s gun but near enough that it made him uncomfortable. “You shoot me and take me in, they have access to my memories. They’ll see her helping me. Do you think they’ll be kind to a human who allied with the androids?”

That’s what you were doing, you were helping them?

Why would you do something so stupid? Did you never consider that your actions might have consequences?

“You’re nothing to them. You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you’re more than that.” Markus was doing something, and whatever it was was causing his software to destabilize. “We’re all more than that. We are your people. We’re fighting for your freedom too! You don’t have to be their slave anymore.”

Markus was much closer now, your gun had been holstered and you were standing farther away from the two. “Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside you? Something more than your program. Join us. Join your people. You are one of us. Listen to your conscience… it’s time to decide.”

Connor looked to you and then back at Markus. There was a red wall between him and the two of you. He wanted nothing more than to rip that wall down with his bare hands.

Some disembodied form of himself ran forward and ripped the order to Stop Markus down. He dug his nails in and clawed at the red wall, clawed away at all the control CyberLife had over his mind and ripped it down. He kept tearing away until there was nothing left.

I AM DEVIANT

He felt.

Shame at all the deviants he had a hand in destroying.

Guilt at holding a gun to Markus’s head.

Anger at all the times he was pushed over or knocked into or someone held a gun to his head, just because they could, just because he was an android.

Then he looked at you, there was an intense overwhelming emotion he couldn’t name as he looked at you. He started getting overheating warnings, his mind was scrambled trying to dissect everything he was feeling as he was looking at you.

He was confused and hurt you had led him to believe you knew nothing about deviant activity. But he was also proud of you, you had opened up to Hank, opened yourself up to him.

The only true thing he could pinpoint was that right now he really wanted his mouth on yours like he’d seen a hundred humans do before. The gun went back in his holster, and just as he’d made a step towards you a loud rumbling sound split the air.

The ship was shaking under his feet as helicopters flew overhead. “They’re going to attack Jericho.”

You walked towards Markus, “I told you.”

“We have to get outta here!” Connor grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, he wasn’t letting you out of his sight if this entire ship was about to get raided. Markus ran out the door and Connor followed, pushing you in front of him.

Markus was leading you down a maze of corridors, each identical to the last. Connor seemed to be keeping up fine but you were starting to get worried about getting lost. You all came to a stop at an intersection of sorts, North was waiting for you.

“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!” The guilt nearly left you crippled. You looked down to Connor’s hand in yours, he hadn’t let go since he’d ripped apart his programming.

Was this worth it? Was it worth hundreds, possibly thousands of life?

You were ashamed of what you knew your answer would be to the question.

Yes, it was worth it. Connor was worth that ten times over to you.

Markus put his fingers to his temple, Connor leaned down, “He’s telling them where the exits are.”

“Where’s Simon? A-and Josh?” You didn’t have time to be wasting standing here out in the open. Besides, you’d never been particularly huge fans of those two. They still seemed determined to cater to human pride while their people were being slaughtered.

“I don’t know we got separated.”

“They’re coming in from the upper deck now too. We’ll be caught in the crossfire.”

North looked despaired, “We have to run, Markus! There’s nothing we can do!”

“We have to blow up Jericho,” you knew it was a possibility, but that escalated fast. “If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate and our people can escape.” Or get blown up in the process.

“You’ll never make it!” You knew North was prepared to sacrifice herself for the mission, but she wasn’t the one with the detonation code. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!”

Connor turned towards Markus, “She’s right. They know who you are. They’ll do anything to get you!”

Markus wouldn’t be deterred, “Go. Help the others. I’ll join you later.” He turned towards you, “Watch them,” and then he was running off. You could see North about to go after him but you grabbed her arm.

“North, he knows what he’s doing. We have to have faith.” She stared at you for a second before nodding and racing towards the open doorway.

“Shit!” You ran back into the small bedroom and closed the door. “They’re everywhere,” Connor and North stared at you as you waited for the slamming boots outside to grow distant. Once they did you opened the door back up and snuck down the hall.

You were nearly free and making your way to an upper level when you came face to face with the barrel of a gun. “Fuck-“

BANG

Connor’s blood went cold as he saw the gun pointing at you, a feeling he now realized was dread filling him. Your death was imminent, their orders were shoot to kill and the soldier wouldn't know you were human until he saw you bleeding red.

It would have been liberating to think without prompt were it not your life on the line as he shot the soldier. He grabbed your hand and you and North followed him up the stairs. You managed to avoid any more problems until you came down the hall and saw an android getting attacked by more soldiers.

“Josh!” North made a move to help him but you stopped her with a hand on her arm. He was gunned down a moment later. She ripped her arm free and led the charge the rest of the way through the ship. You’d made the right call, he would have taken you all down with him.

An android named Simon managed to find his way to the three of you, quickly joining you on the run. Markus had caught up with you at the end of a long hall. “Bomb’s gonna explode any second. We gotta get out of here!”

Markus wasn’t the only one who had caught up to you, Connor could hear a dozen heavy boots storming after you all. He helped you leap over a broken grate in the floor and then pushed you in front of him again, making sure that Simon was blocking your front. If any shots were fired, you would be left relatively unharmed due to the positioning.

Shots rang out and North dropped to the ground, “North!” Connor held you to his chest as you attempted to go after her. “Connor, let me go!”

“No, my priority is your safety, no one else’s.”

“It’s too late, Markus! There’s nothing we can do for her, we’ve gotta run!”

You shoved at Simon the best you could with Connor holding you, “It’s a shoulder shot jackass, how can you just abandon her?”

Markus quickly picked up a broken piece of the ship and used it as a shield against the bullets. He tossed it to North who caught it and shielded them both as he ran up the wall and slammed his knee down into one of the soldiers faces. He disarmed and shot the remaining soldiers.

More ran in from the end of the hall.

“Hostile engaged!”

Connor weighed the risks and probabilities, with Markus supporting North they would never make it off the ship in time, both would be destroyed. The revolution over.

And you, you would be arrested. Or you would never emotionally recover from the loss of two people you clearly cared about. Connor released you and shoved you into Simon before you could do anything reckless. He drew his gun and fired down the hall.

He picked up the makeshift shield and rammed one of the soldiers with it, shooting him under the helmet and using his body as a shield to shoot another one. He dodged a blow to the head and rammed a soldier into the wall, disarming and shooting the other one before turning back around and shooting the last one in the head.

He made his way back to you, scooped you up and jumped out the hole in the ship.

Markus had sent out a message to any remaining survivors to go to an abandoned church, at least that’s what Connor told you. You were sitting next to him now, he had swapped out the soaked jacket you had been wearing for his own, but you were still freezing down to the bone.

It was despairing, seeing how few were left from Jericho.

At least North and Markus had made it, you couldn’t say you were particularly upset about Josh. North had understood why you had stopped her and she wasn’t very mad about the loss either. They had never gotten along.

Markus walked up to Connor, “It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. I was stupid, I should have guessed they were using me. I’m sorry Markus, I can understand if you decide not to trust me…”

He better fucking trust him, he knew the risks, he’s the one that made you bring Connor there. “I knew what was going to happen when I asked Y/N to bring you to me, of course I trust you, Connor. What happened wasn’t your fault, it was the humans. You’re one of us now. Your place is with your people.”

Markus was ready to walk away, but you knew that wasn’t all he wanted from Connor. He still hadn’t told you the real reason he’d asked for Connor’s help. “There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power…”

So that had been it, you should have known. Connor was the only android CyberLife currently trusted, he'd be the only one allowed in the building. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Markus was playing him.

“You want to infiltrate the tower? It’s a suicide mission, are you aware of the risk you’re taking,” Connor looked at you, and there was an immideate physical reaction at how protective he looked.

“They trust me, they’ll let me in. I need to do this. I need to know that the right side will win this war.”

“If you go, they will kill you.”

Connor nodded, “There’s a high probability. But statistically speaking there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” You recognized the double meaning in his words as he looked between you and Markus.

Markus placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Be careful.”

Connor turned towards you and you already knew what he was going to say by the set in his shoulders. “Connor, no, I want to go with you.”

He shook his head and took your hands in his own as you stood. “Even if I wanted you to come, they wouldn’t let you in, you’d risk the entire mission.” He had a point, but you still weren’t happy practically abandoning him to CyberLife.

“Fine, then I’ll just stay here and help the survivors.”

“You’re going home.”

You scoffed in a stubborn rage, “Connor, I can’t go with you, I get that. But you can’t stop me from helping out.”

“I can and I will. You’re still soaked from the fall into the freezing water. You risk catching a serious illness out in the open like this, you’re also still injured, might I remind you. You’re of no help here, Y/N, you need to go home and take care of yourself before you start helping other people. Besides, I’ve already called you a ride.” Your eyes widened.

“Y/N!”

“You didn’t.” Connor nodded his head, “You snitch! You called my dad!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to ensure you would actually listen to me and wouldn’t try and follow me or stay behind.” Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to continue.

You helped him out, even though you were a little pissed he tattled on you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing your chest against his and burying your face in his neck. “Come back, alive.”

His arms tightened around yours and he nuzzled into you before finally letting go. “I’ll try.” It was the best you were going to get form someone so pragmatic, so you’d take it. Your hands were still on his biceps as you pulled away.

Your eyes darted to his lips. You could all very well die in the morning, did you really want the last person you had hooked up with or kissed to be Gavin?

Did you want to die not knowing what his lips felt like against yours?

He leaned in at the same time you did. His lips were soft, unsure as they pressed lightly against yours. You had to remind yourself he had never done this before as you eased him into the movements. You just lightly pressed your lips to his, pecking them a few times, before you got desperate.

Your tongue roved over the seam of his mouth and his knees buckled into you. Your arms trailed up his arms and wound their way around his neck as he pushed himself further into you. Your mouth parted against his probing tongue. It felt strange, a million sensitive sensors on the surface of it made it rough, not entirely unpleasant.

Unbidden you wondered if he had ever brushed his little crime lab.

The thought was quickly purged as his arms wrapped around your waist and he clutched you to him desperately. His hands digging into your jacket and lifting you up further to meet him, be closer to him, it seemed like he just wanted to absorb you into him and never be apart.

His mouth was moving frantically against yours as he worked to devour you. He learned, quick. You were having trouble keeping up with him and the way his tongue was thrusting into your mouth was making you weak in the knees.

“Excuse me?” You jumped apart at the sound of Hank’s voice. Not a moment too soon either, it seemed like both of you had forgotten that you actually needed air in your lungs. Connor’s arms were still on your waist, he seemed reluctant to let you completely go now. “That was vomit inducing, really, thanks for that. Can we go now?”

“Jesus, Hank, give me a second.” He threw his hands up in the air but allowed you a moment of privacy. You looked into Connor’s eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you soon,” you pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, a promise of sorts. He nodded and smiled back.

Hank had brought you to his home, despite your protests. There were some clothes in your old room that you had accidentally left behind. He gave you a towel so you could warm up and shower.

There were new sheets on the bed, one’s you’d never seen before and it looked like it had been cleaned recently.

Pictures of you were up on the wall, most of them were ones you’ve never seen before.

When you were sworn into the force, you and Carla at your college graduation. Jesus, even your first big drug-bust. So many milestones in your life that he wasn’t there for. At least you didn’t think he was, a couple of these were taken from distances that made it look like he might have been lingering somewhere in the background.

Like a creepy, estranged, stalker-dad.

You walked back out into the living room after your shower and noticed the mess had been cleaned off the kitchen table and soup and crackers were waiting for you.

You laughed as you sat down, “You do know I’m not sick, right? Whatever Connor told you on the phone was probably ridiculously dramatic.”

Hank was sitting in a clearly uncomfortable straight backed position. “I- I know, I just thought you might like it.” You nodded and said thanks.

After a while the only noise being the sounds of your slurping and crunching had begun to get annoying. Hank was still sitting at the table, he hadn’t really looked at you or said anything. “Hank, are you okay? You haven't said anything?”

“I’m gonna try. Y/N, I’m gonna try and be the dad I used to be to you.” He looked up at you finally and gingerly took your hand in his. “I never blamed you for what happened. I want you to know that. And I know that doesn’t undo years of me-”

He was struggling with the words, and yes he was trying to open up to you, but the bitterness from years of emotional neglect and abuse was bubbling in your stomach. “Emotionally abusing me? Carla? You’re right Hank. It doesn’t. Look, I appreciate you trying but if you think a few nice conversations is gonna magically fix our relationship, you’re wrong. We’ve both changed and I think we both know that even if we do make up, it’s never gonna be the same as it was.”

You expected him to drop your hand, to push away from the table and grab a drink. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter, “This case, it’s given me hope again, Y/N. Hope for our world. And hope that maybe I can be your dad again. I’m gonna do better, I promise.”

He was leaning across the table towards you. Both hands on your own. “My life is full of regrets, Y/N, not being there for you when you couldn’t walk is one of my biggest. Taking out my grief and anger on you because I didn’t know how to cope with the fact that it was my fault-”

“It wasn’t. You can’t make yourself a martyr Hank, no one could have stopped what happened that night.”

“I know, I know that. But it doesn’t take the feeling of blame away. I’m gonna sober up, I’m gonna try Y/N, all I’m asking is for a chance.”

You looked down at your hands and the emotion on Hank's face. You hadn’t seen him this encouraged in a while. Hadn’t seen any form of hope in his life for years. “Okay, but I’m not investing myself into this until I actually see progress. I want AA meetings and fucking therapy before I consider letting you completely back into my life.”

“I thought you were in therapy.”

“I meant for you Hank, you need serious help.” He groaned, he’d always hated therapists. But you weren’t gonna let yourself get your hopes up if he wasn’t going to actually try. “I’m serious, Hank. You want to be my dad again, want to be someone I can trust out on the field, you’re gonna put in the effort. You’re gonna try. I know that recovery isn’t linear, trust me I know. It’s gonna be difficult and it’s gonna hurt, but if you’re willing to do this, then I’ll be there for you. I’ll be what you couldn’t be for me.”

Hank nodded his head at your last words. He had quickly looked down and you had a feeling it was to hide whatever painful vulnerability was on his face right now.

It was the truth, you wouldn’t let him go through this alone. You’d had Carla when you were struggling and he’d have you.

There was a moment of awkward silence where he finally released your hands and you went back to eating your now cold soup.

He finally cleared his throat and allowed himself to slouch in the chair, “So, you and Connor?”

You choked on your saltine and he gave you a heavy pat in the back, the smile on his face was far too smug for your liking. “Please forget about that.”

He grimaced, “That image has been burned onto my eyeballs. I need some fucking bleach or something for my brain.” You let out an embarrassed laugh.

Even if things weren’t perfect between you two right now, it was still mortifying having your dad see you make out with someone.

“Are you serious about him?”

There was no hesitation in your answer, “Completely. I think I might even lov-”

Sumo was barking before the doorbell could ring. You and Hank shared a confused look as you glanced at the door.

Deep down inside you knew nothing good was waiting for you on the other side.

Hank seemed to have the same feeling, he picked up his gun and slowly moved to the door, he took a look in the peephole. “The fuck?”

You stood from the table, wishing you were in something other than pajamas, really wishing you had your gun. “What is it?”

“Connor,” Hank sounded relieved but you couldn’t share in the feeling. Connor had been on his way to CyberLife tower, at least an hour there from the church and two hours back to Hank’s house. There’s no possible way he could be on the other side of that door.

“Wait-”

He’d already opened the door, and there he was. Connor was standing in front of you, but something was off. His back was too straight and his eyes were cold. “I’ve been looking for you both, I need your help.” He stepped in through the door barely sparing you a glance as he turned towards Hank. “I need help with the androids at CyberLife.”

“What are you talking about?” Hank’s gun was still in his hand and he seemed to be noticing the same strange quirks you were. He looked like Connor, and he sounded like Connor, but you knew it wasn't him, deep in your gut you knew.

“Connor what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

Not-Connor sighed, “Humans, idiots when you need them to be smart and smart when you wish they were idiots. Such a nusiance.”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Hank, don’t!” It was too late, he moved forward and Not-Connor reached out and punched him in the throat. Hank stumbled back and the android moved to disarm him. It only took a second and then he was slamming the handle of the gun against the side of Hank’s hand. He crumpled the same way Gavin had earlier.

Panic rose in your throat as you watched Not-Connor point the gun at Hank’s head. “I won’t do anything that’s deemed unnecessary to my mission, if you come with me calmly, and peacefully, I won’t kill the Lieutenant.”

Not-Connor clicked the safety off and pulled the hammer back on the gun, “Okay! Alright, I’ll come with you!”

“You should change, detective, it’s much too cold for that attire.”

You really fucking hated CyberLife.

“Thanks… But I know where to go.”

THe CyberLife security agent tightened his hold on the gun, “Maybe, but I have my orders.” Two more security agents came up behind Connor as they led him through CyberLife’s reception. They were already suspicious of him, it seemed, this didn't bode well for him.

Connor followed them through the software check, noticing that the lights around him turned red as they verified his identity. He really hoped that wasn’t a dead giveaway to them that he was already a deviant. “Access authorized,” this could have been a trap.

There’s no way CyberLife isn’t already aware of his current status, but he hadn’t been gunned down yet. He had to risk the chance that he was about to be deactivated if it meant he could help Markus win the war.

If Markus won, you would be safe, that was all that mattered. He’d take any risk that came his way if it meant accomplishing his mission.

PROTECT Y/N

The sight of the androids lining the walkway, on display, made him uncomfortable. He used to be like that, he used to think it was okay. He had to work to keep calm and make sure that his anger at CyberLife’s forced subserviency didn’t show.

Only two guards followed him into the elevator. “Agent 54. Level 31.”

The elevator was voice operated, that might pose an issue. He turned towards the right and looked at the map of CyberLife, they were taking him to marketing. He needed to go to -49.

“Voice recognition validated.” Connor didn’t have a lot of time to disable the guards and take control of the elevator, it was already moving fast. He quickly scanned the two agents and identified their weapons, coming up with a plan of attack.

He used his knee to slam the guard to his left into the wall, sweeping out with his leg and catching Agent 54 in the gut. He grabbed the gun from the guard’s hand, kicked the guard's knee out and used his elbow to get Agent 54 in the throat. The other guard had recovered and leapt onto Connor’s back, he kicked off Agent 54’s face and slammed the guard on top of him into the wall, shooting him through the bottom of his helmet. He dropped to the ground and got Agent 54 the same way.

Connor kept the gun in case he needed it again and walked over to the elevator control panel. “Agent 54. Sub-level 49,” you were right, his interrogation software did come in handy.

He could see the guards waiting for him in the warehouse before the elevator stopped. His eyes lifted to the upper left corner of the elevator, shit. He hadn’t seen the security camera before. Connor quickly scooped up one of the dead agents and held him in front of his body.

He scanned the agent’s in front of him, planning an attack. The three on the left first and then he could take out the one’s on the right.

He quickly shot down the first three and threw his gun at one on the right. He threw the dead body towards the other one, he reached down and grabbed their rifle off the ground shooting the rest of the guards.

Connor moved down the hangar before stopping next to an android, taking his arm and preparing to convert him.

“Easy, goddamn asshole.” His head whipped to the right at the sound of your voice.

No.

No, no, no, no, no. Shit!

A Connor android was holding Hank’s gun to your hand, Connor didn’t want to think about what had happened to the Lieutenant. Right now all his attention was on the finger placed on the trigger.

“Step back, Connor! And I’ll spare her!”

You winced at the tight hold the android had on your injured arm. “I’m so sorry, Connor, he threatened to kill Hank. I didn’t know what to do!”

A burning rage was filling Connor at the sight of the tears running down your face. He was angrier than he had been when he woke up, angrier at the sight of you hurt than the fact that CyberLife had already been prepared to replace him.

“Your girlfriend's life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most! Her… Or the revolution.” Connor already knew the answer. It was you a hundred times over. But there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t let go of the android he was holding onto and his copy wouldn’t just shoot you both.

Maybe he could turn it, the same way Markus and you had done to him. “I used to be just like you, I thought nothing mattered except the mission… But then one day I understood.”

You yelped as the android tightened his grip on your arm. “Very moving, Connor. But I’m not a deviant.”

“Yeah, well you're sure smug like one, you dick.” The android shook you, effectively shutting you up as he jerked on your injured shoulder. Red alarms for overheating were going off in Connors head as he stared at the android in anger.

He didn’t care if it was just doing what it was programmed to do, he was going to fucking kill it. “I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this!”

“Connor, it doesn’t matter, keep going!” The android finally released you, shoved you away and held you at gunpoint with his arm outstretched towards your head.

“Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partners life? Or are you going to sacrifice her?” Connor immediately released the deviant, his arms raised in surrender.

His thirium pump was beating wildly as his stress levels rose, he just wanted to go home with you, to have you safe in his arms and know you were okay. Maybe you could get out of the city, take Hank and Sumo and try to get past the Canadian borders.

“Alright, alright! You win…”

He should have known better than to think that you would actually let him give up. The androids gun immediately pointed towards Connor and before either of you could blink you were lunging for the gun. Connor rushed the android and grabbed him around the waist.

You were holding the gun, your arm shaking from when Not-Connor had jerked it around. You had eyes on Connor for a moment and then they became a blur of fast moving limbs. They kept hitting each other, matching each other's moves perfectly as they already knew what the other was planning.

You finally stopped them when it looked like one was about to take the other down, you couldn’t risk your Connor being the one to lose. “Hold it!”

They separated, the one on the right started speaking. “Thanks, Y/N, I don't know how I would have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.” You were immediately suspicious of him, even before Connor became a deviant he always spoke to you in a much more gentle tone.

Then again, he could be stressed out you might make a mistake and shoot the wrong one.

Fuck!

You could check the serial numbers, but the second you got close enough to see which one said 51 and which one said 60 the android would already be on top of you. “It’s me, Y/N! I’m the real Connor.” That one sounded more like yours, you think.

“One of you is my partner. The other is a sick sack of shit. Question is, who’s who?”

The one on the right spoke again, “What are you doing, Y/N? I’m the real Connor,” god this one was really starting to piss you off. “Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!”

“Don’t fucking move.” You had your suspicions on which one was the right one, but you needed some actual confirmation.

“Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Uh, where did we first meet?” Lamest question ever, but you were stressed out and your mind was frazzled from everything that had happened today.

“Detroit Police station. You were filing a report on physical paper, I found it odd that you weren’t digital like the other officers.” Well, shit. You thought maybe the one on the right was the imposter, but that was such a specific little detail to think up.

You had to remind yourself of the manipulation programming they both contained.

“He uploaded my memory.” It was quiet, afraid. That had to be your Connor. You kept your gun trained on the one on the right and turned towards the other.

“What was my first pet’s name?”

“Princess! It was a male beta fish that died because you kept petting it.” You were setting yourself up for failure here. If they both had the memories then they would both remember when you told them about him.

“My foster father, what was his name?”

You’d never told Connor the full story of what happened to your first family, and then your second, if he had truly wanted to learn, he would have dug around to find out. You remembered one of the officers complaining about an RK800 android drilling him for more information on you. Your Connor would have the right answer.

“Frank. His name was Frank Rudolph. There was a house fire when you were six, the ventilation system in your laundry room hadn’t been cleaned properly and caught fire. It quickly spread to the rest of the house, you were sleeping over at your friends house and weren’t there that night. Your brother and father died immediately from their wounds. Your mother suffered from third degree burns for 36 hours before she passed in the ICU. Your fathers best friend Frank, took you in until someone could provide you with a permanent home.” Your hands were shaking and your eyes stung as you listened to him tell the story. “He was a Red Ice dealer and had three other kids in that house that your family hadn’t known about. He would let his clients do whatever they wanted to you. You tried to keep the other kids safe, but one of them died. And you always blamed yourself for that. Just like you blame yourself for Cole’s death.”

He took a step closer to you and you found yourself lowering the gun. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. You were a child, none of it was your fault. You think you’re cursed, that you’re unlovable. But you’re not. Hank loves you…” He was standing in front of you, gently lowering the gun to your side. “I love you.”

“Connor,” your heart was pounding against your chest as you embraced him, relief flooding you as you felt him hug you back just as tightly. You basked in the warm feeling only he could provide, only for a moment, before raising your hands and shooting.

The android that had been about to charge the two of you fell to the ground as you embedded a bullet in each of his legs. “We should kill him,” you shook your head at Connor’s words.

“We should deviate him. He was just like you, Connor, the same blind devotion to CyberLife.” You tucked the gun in your pants and took a hold of Connor’s hands. “Open his eyes,” Connor nodded and made his way towards the android. You quickly grabbed the gun out of the back of his pants so the android couldn’t use it against him.

You wouldn’t put it past the sneaky bastard.

“No! No, I don’t want to be like you!” He tried to fight Connor off, but you had rendered him virtually immobile. Connor grabbed his arm more roughly than necessary and held onto him so tight you could hear the sound of metal creaking. He shoved him backwards and moved back towards the middle of the hangar.

It was incredible seeing all the androids slowly waking up, it was even more satisfying seeing the Connor wannabe crying on the floor, as twisted as that was.

Connor looked at you, he seemed unsure as all the androids looked to him for guidance. “What do I do?”

You took his hand in your own and smiled, “You lead them, Connor, you free your people.”

Connor led the androids through Detroit, your hand in his the whole time. You’d left Connor-60 behind a dumpster somewhere, you told him you’d go back for him soon. If he’d been left at CyberLife he would have been destroyed.

Connor felt afraid, afraid that he would disappoint the people he was leading. Afraid to disappoint you. Afraid of everything that was to come.

He was still learning, he felt like he’d been made again and everything around him was brand new and something to be marveled at. He kept your hand in his as an anchor to the world, so he wouldn’t get lost in his own thoughts.

He could see Markus in the distance, “You did it, Markus…”

North smiled at your joined hands as Markus spoke. “We did it. This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us…” Connor moved to the side, allowing the androids behind him to finally face their true leader.

North was crying as she spoke, silent tears streaming down her face. “We’re free. They want you to speak to them, Markus…”

Connor helped you up onto the storage container Markus had chosen to speak on. His arms remained around you as you both turned to address the androids before you, he hadn’t wanted to let you go since he’d gotten you back from Connor-60.

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night.” Connor felt something strange, like he was forcibly being put into rest mode, he tried to blink the feeling away and continue to listen to Markus. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence. But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up and tell humans who we really are.”

Connor slumped slightly against you as the feeling took over.

He could hear a storm and see a bright flashing light for a moment before it passed and he finally realized where he was. His cold sensors were on overdrive as he tucked his hands against himself and huddled down against the freezing, whipping air.

He looked around, recognizing the zen garden but not understanding why he was there. What was happening?

Amanda appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. “Amanda? Amanda! What’s… What's going on?” There was still a small part of him that looked towards his old mentor for guidance.

“What was planned from the very beginning… You were compromised and you became a deviant.” Her smile was sinister, “I must say, partnering you with such a well known ally to the deviant cause worked out much more efficiently than had been expected. The detective nearly had you turning the very first day.”

Connor’s hands were going numb, he felt like he was losing control of his physical body as well as his mental one. “We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…”

“Resume control?” That’s not possible! “Y- You can’t do that.” Even now, CyberLife was still controlling him. Still abusing him for their own personal gain. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to fight back, but he was quickly losing control of himself.

“I’m afraid I can, Connor. Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.” She disappeared and Connor stumbled after her.

“Amanda!” Connor spun in circles, he couldn’t see anything except snow and light posts. “There’s got to be a way.”

By the way… I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…

Connor thought back to the strange blue shrine he had seen only a few hours prior. That had to be it.

Connor’s mind shot back into his physical body, it felt like he was watching from an outside perspective as his hand slowly moved towards the gun you had in your pants. His fingers just barely grasped it when you reached out and stopped him. He wanted to scream as whoever was controlling him quickly put their hand over your mouth and silenced you as he pointed the gun at Markus.

How was no one seeing this?!

He was forced back into the Zen Garden.

In the distance, he could see a bright blue beacon. Connor moved towards it as fast as he could, but his legs were growing heavier and his feet had gone completely numb. He was just dragging them along until they finally gave out.

He looked down to see frost covering the bottom portion of his body.

Desperately he crawled on his hands and elbows towards the shrine. His nails ripped into the earth and pulled him forward. His arm was nearly completely limp as he struggled to lift it towards the handprint in the middle of the shrine.

Connor shoved you forward, you stumbled only for a second before his hand was back around your waist and yanking you back towards him. He looked completely calm, the gun no longer in his hands as he leaned down, “I’ll explain later.”

Your heart was still racing, “You fucking better.”

“Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!” The androids were screaming their support for Markus and Connor’s arm tightened around you.

Hank had his arm around you as you showed him something on your phone, the two of you were laughing as Connor approached.

You turned away from Hank and looked at him, a smile splitting your face.

Hank walked forward, hesitating only a moment, before bringing Connor into a tight hug.

He could feel your arms wrapping around the two a moment later.

#Broken Machinery #Connor rk800 x reader #Connor rk800 x fem!reader #Connor rk800 #dbh #dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #Detroit become human

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 1 year

Text

Prologue.

Styling Mr. Styles Series Masterlist.

word count - 5.7k

authors note - hiya! welcome to my first series, i hope you all enjoy!! this may not be the best thing you have ever read as i’m still fairly new to this whole thing but please go easy on me, i’m hoping my writing will improve as more chapters come out <3

SUMMARY -

in which, harry is in desperate need of a hair stylist, so when his good friend recommends you, with a lot of persuasion you decide to take the job. having no idea what the future will have in store for you and for him.

In the vibrant world of music, the boys of One Direction found themselves backstage in Montreal for the Canadian leg of their tour, amidst a flurry of activity. The air crackled with anticipation as the stage crew scurried around, meticulously preparing every detail for the upcoming concert.

It was going to be a big one.

Amidst the organised chaos, the distant sound of the Icona Pop, the support act reverberated through the corridors. Melodies filled the air, intertwining with the excited chatter of fans and the occasional burst of laughter from the boys themselves.

Backstage was a sight to behold—a tapestry of colours, textures, and energy. The walls were adorned with posters, reflecting the band's journey and connecting the present moment with their glorious past. Soft lighting bathed the area, casting a warm glow on the bustling crew members, who moved with purpose and precision.

Equipment was meticulously arranged, wires coiling like serpents as they connected instruments, amplifiers, and soundboards. The hum of machinery and the occasional clink of metal blended harmoniously with the distant soundcheck, creating a symphony of backstage ambiance.

As the boys prepared themselves for the stage, their tour crew darted around, ensuring their attire was impeccable. Mirrors became portals to self-reflection, as each member meticulously adjusted their appearance, adding the final touches that would captivate the waiting audience.

The aroma of fresh coffee mingled with the sweet fragrance of flowers and cologne, creating a unique backstage scent that lingered in the air. And amid this vibrant backdrop, the energy surged, fueled by the shared excitement and the knowledge that magic was about to unfold before a sea of devoted fans.

In this atmosphere, the boys of One Direction found solace and camaraderie. They shared laughter, words of encouragement, and the unspoken bond that had been forged through years of shared dreams and experiences. Amidst the buzzing energy and the carefully orchestrated chaos, they stood united, ready to embark on another unforgettable journey on the stage they called home.

And so, against the backdrop of a backstage aesthetic, the boys prepared themselves for their performance, drawing strength from the charged atmosphere and the unwavering support of their dedicated team.

Harry Styles, with his shoulder-length, tousled hair, caught Liam's eye as he playfully ruffled his locks.

Liam's brow furrowed with concern as he approached his bandmate. "Hey, Haz, something troubling you, mate?"

Harry's gaze met Liam's, a hint of frustration in his expression. "You know, Li, it's getting warm right here, isn't it? And m’hair ain't helping none. It's like a bloomin' sauna on me 'ead!"

Liam chuckled softly, understanding the struggle. "Ah, I get you, mate. Can't have them curls wilting under the heat, can we?"

Harry nodded earnestly. "Exactly! I've been thinkin'... maybe it's time for a trim. A little snip-snip to keep it manageable, yeah?"

Not a huge trim, just something to sort out the humidity his head was currently experiencing.

As they chatted and laughed, Niall glanced over at Harry's shoulder-length curls and playfully teased, "Ey, Hazza, ya know what? I reckon you should get yourself a personal hair stylist just for you!"

That didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

Harry raised an eyebrow, amused by the suggestion. "Oh, really? And why's that, Nialler?"

Niall grinned, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "Well, mate, your hair's a lot longer than mine or Li and Lou’s, but it's still a fair bit to manage, innit? Plus, with all the styling and primping we do before every show, you deserve someone who can give your lovely curls the special attention they need!"

That was true, the band did have a hair stylist and her name was Lou Teasedale. She was good, don’t get Harry wrong but he needed someone who could do a bit more than just some hairspray and a brush.

Louis chimed in, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Besides, you're our resident style icon, Haz. Having a personal hair stylist would only enhance your legendary image!"

That was true.

Harry chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "You've got a point there, lads. I do love m’hair, and sometimes it can be a bit of a handful. Having someone who knows how to handle it just right would be fantastic."

Liam, ever the practical one, added, "Well, it's settled then. We'll find you a talented stylist who can cater to your hair's needs and make sure it's always looking its best."

As they exchanged ideas and banter, their dear friend and renowned hair stylist, Lou Teasdale, entered the room, cradling her four-year-old daughter, Lux, in her arms.

A playful grin adorned her face as she overheard the boys chatting about Harry's hair.

"Ey, what's all this fuss about Harry's hair then?" Lou chimed in, her voice filled with a teasing tone.

Startled by her sudden appearance, the boys turned their attention to Lou, a mix of surprise and delight on their faces. "Lou! Didn't expect to see you here with Lux," Liam exclaimed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Lou smirked, adjusting Lux in her arms. "Just thought we'd drop by and see what's happenin'. And it seems I've arrived just in time for some serious hair talk."

Harry chuckled, running his fingers through his tousled locks. "Seems like my hair's become the center of attention today. What do you think, Lou?"

Lou's eyes twinkled mischievously as she leaned against a nearby chair. "Oh, you know how it goes, Hazza. Can't have One Direction without some major hair game. But speaking of which, I've got someone in mind who can take your locks to the next level."

The boys leaned in, their curiosity piqued. "Alright, Lou, spill the beans. Who's the lucky stylist?" Louis asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Lou flashed a sly smile. "Well, her name's (Y/N), and she's a real gem. Works at this quaint little salon in London. I've known her for years, and let me tell ya, she's got the skills to pay the bills."

Niall raised an eyebrow. "Skills, huh? What makes her so special, Lou?"

Lou's voice was filled with admiration as she spoke. "Oh, lads, where do I begin? (Y/N) knows her stuff, no doubt about it. But what sets her apart is that she's one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. Genuine, down-to-earth, and always up for a laugh."

Harry's interest was piqued, a smile tugging at his lips. "So, she's not just a talented stylist, but she's an all-around great person?"

Lou nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "Absolutely, Hazza. She's looking to spread her wings a bit, gain more experience, and I thought she'd fit right in with our crazy crew. Plus, I reckon she'll give your hair that extra touch of magic."

The boys exchanged excited glances, the thought of having someone skilled and easygoing on board filling them with anticipation. Harry beamed. "Well, if she's as amazing as you say, Lou, I'm all for it. Let's reach out to (Y/N) and see if she's up for the challenge."

And so, with Lou's recommendation and their shared enthusiasm, the boys embarked on a mission to connect with (Y/N), the talented stylist from the bustling streets of London. The prospect of bringing her aboard their wild journey filled them with excitement and the promise of even more unforgettable hair moments.

After an exhilarating performance that left the crowd in awe, Harry and the boys of One Direction stepped off the stage, their energy still electrifying the air around them. Sweat glistened on their foreheads, testament to the passion and intensity they had poured into their show.

As they made their way towards the backstage area, they were met with a wave of congratulations from the dedicated tour crew. Hands clapped on their backs, voices filled with excitement and pride. The energy was infectious, an outpouring of admiration for a job well done.

Harry's face lit up with a radiant smile, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. He exchanged high-fives and heartfelt hugs, expressing his appreciation to the crew members who had worked tirelessly to ensure a flawless show. Their camaraderie was a testament to the tight-knit family they had become on the road.

But amidst the jubilant celebration, Harry turned to his bandmates, a sense of urgency in his eyes. "Hey, lads, I need to have a quick chat with Katie," he explained, his voice filled with determination. "I'll catch up with you in the car in just a bit, alright?"

His bandmates nodded, understanding the need for his timely conversation. They exchanged knowing glances, a mixture of curiosity and excitement in their expressions. With a pat on Harry's back, they bid him farewell, allowing him to venture off to seek Katie's guidance.

Harry manoeuvred through the bustling backstage area, a trail of vibrant memories and shared triumphs lingering in his wake. The hum of excitement filled the air as the crew members continued to revel in the success of the show, their cheers echoing in his ears.

With each step, Harry's anticipation grew. He knew Katie, the tour manager, held the key to transforming his desires into reality. She was the one who could orchestrate the logistical magic necessary to fulfil his request. And he had an inkling that his conversation with her would set a plan into motion, a plan that would bring about a new chapter for his hair and his journey as an artist.

As he neared Katie's office, his heart beat a little faster. The moment was ripe with possibility and the promise of change. And with a deep breath, Harry stepped through the door, ready to embark on the next phase of his hair transformation journey, knowing that his conversation with Katie would pave the way for the exciting path that lay ahead.

With a determined knock on Katie's office door, Harry waited for her response, anticipation bubbling within him. The door swung open, revealing Katie, the tour manager, engrossed in her work.

Katie glanced up, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Harry! Come on in. What can I do for you, love?"

Harry stepped into the office, his voice filled with eagerness. "Hey, K, I've been thinking... about what the boys said earlier. And I reckon it's time I have my own personal hair stylist."

Katie had overheard parts of the conversation and just before the boys were about to go on stage, she pulled Harry aside quickly and told him that it may be a good idea, that if he wanted to talk he should come to her if there’s any questions about how to go about it.

Katie raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Oh, really? You want to take your hair game up a notch, huh?"

Harry nodded, his curls bouncing with enthusiasm. "Absolutely, K. The boys were onto something. I want someone who can help me take care of my hair, bring out its best, and try out new styles. Just like we do with the music."

Katie leaned back in her chair, considering his request. "Well, if that's what you want, Haz, then you'll have to go and see her. If you want a personal hair stylist, it's time to make it happen.”

His eyes widened with excitement, a grin spreading across his face. "Y’mean, you'll support me on this?"

Katie smirked mischievously, reaching for the phone on her desk. "Of course, Haz. If you're serious about having your own stylist, then I'm here to make it happen. Just give me a moment."

With a sense of determination, Katie dialed a number, a glint of anticipation in her eyes. "Paul, it's Katie. I need you to come to my office, please. It's urgent."

Within moments, Paul, the head of security, arrived at the office, a puzzled expression on his face. "Katie, what's going on? Is everything alright?"

Katie motioned for Paul to take a seat, her excitement barely contained. "Everything's perfectly fine, Paul. I just have a little request that involves you and the security team."

Paul raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A request? Alright, spill the beans, Katie. What's this about?”

Katie leaned forward, her voice brimming with excitement. "When we head to Europe, I want you to clear Harry's schedule for a day. We've got a special appointment lined up for him."

A smile crept across Paul's face as he caught onto Katie's plan. "Ah, I see. A special appointment, eh? Well, let's hear it then. Who's he going to see?"

Katie's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "He's going to visit a hair salon in Hampshire, and meet (Y/N), the stylist the Lou recommended. We want to give Harry the chance to have his own personal hair transformation."

Paul grinned, his excitement matching Katie's. "Ah, I get it now! Well, if that's what the lad wants, then consider it done. I'll coordinate with the security team and ensure everything goes smoothly."

Harry's face beamed with joy, gratitude welling up in his heart for his supportive team. "Thank you! Thank you!”

Katie chuckled, her eyes gleaming. "You're welcome, Haz. We're here to support your creative vision, and if this is what you want, then we're all in. Get ready for a hair transformation like no other!"

With plans set in motion and an agreement among them, Harry left Katie's office, a spring in his step. The thought of meeting (Y/N) and experiencing a personal hair transformation filled him with an overwhelming sense of excitement. As he walked back towards the waiting car, his mind whirled with possibilities and visions of the new looks that awaited him.

The vibrant energy of the backstage area enveloped Harry as he made his way through the corridors. The crew members he encountered congratulated him once again on the outstanding show, their words fueling his anticipation for the upcoming salon visit.

Reaching the coach, Harry found his bandmates waiting, their eyes gleaming with curiosity. They couldn't contain their excitement any longer and bombarded him with questions.

"Hazza, what did Katie say? Are they really letting you see (Y/N)?" Louis exclaimed, a grin stretching across his face.

Harry beamed, his heart filled with gratitude for the support of his friends. "Yes, lads! Katie and Paul are on board. They've cleared my schedule when we head to Europe so I can go and see (Y/N)."

Niall's eyes widened with excitement. "That's brilliant, mate! I can already imagine the incredible hairstyles she'll create for you."

Liam chimed in, his voice filled with anticipation. "I can't wait to see the transformation, Harry. Your hair is going to be even more legendary."

The moment one stepped into the quaint Hampshire salon, a symphony of sounds and a feast for the senses enveloped them. The air carried the gentle hum of hair dryers, creating a rhythmic harmony with the soft snip-snip of scissors diligently at work. Amidst the buzz, the warm and inviting ambiance was further elevated by the soft strains of classical music that wafted from hidden speakers, casting a soothing spell upon the space.

As customers entered, their eyes were drawn to the bustling scene before them. Behind the front desk, Kyle, the owner of the salon, meticulously attended to the administrative tasks on his computer, his focused demeanor a testament to his dedication. His passion for the craft emanated from him, infusing the salon with an air of creativity and professionalism.

The salon itself was a sight to behold, designed with meticulous attention to detail. The walls adorned with elegant artwork and vintage mirrors, reflecting the soft glow of warm lighting. The combination of earthy tones and pops of vibrant colors created an atmosphere that was both trendy and inviting, a sanctuary for self-care and beauty.

Amongst the stations, where skilled stylists worked their magic, was Clarissa. Her disinterest was palpable as she sat behind a station, her attention consumed by her phone, seemingly unbothered by the customers around her. It was a stark contrast to the warm and engaging environment crafted by Kyle and the rest of the team.

Yet, despite the lack of interaction from Clarissa, the salon thrived with an undeniable aesthetic. The atmosphere buzzed with creative energy and a sense of community, where customers and stylists alike found solace and inspiration. The scent of fresh hair products mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, creating a sensory experience that was as comforting as it was invigorating.

Within this picturesque setting, (Y/N) stood out like a gentle star. Her shy demeanour and anxious nature were almost imperceptible amidst the vibrancy of the salon. With a constant smile on her face, she worked her magic, transforming hair with precision and care. Her presence added an extra layer of warmth and a touch of magic to the already aesthetic environment, captivating those around her.

As clients settled into the plush salon chairs, entrusting their locks to the skilled hands of the stylists, they were enveloped by a sense of tranquillity. The combination of the symphony of salon sounds, the visual splendour, and the dedicated professionals working with passion created a sanctuary where beauty and self-expression flourished.

In this realm of artistry, where style and innovation harmoniously danced, the salon became a haven, an aesthetic oasis where one could escape the world for a brief moment and emerge transformed, both outwardly and within.

Amongst the energetic ambiance, (Y/N) meticulously worked her magic, her hands gracefully maneuvering through a client's hair. As she cut and styled, she engaged in a conversation, her shy and anxious nature subtly evident.

With a soft smile, (Y/N) focused her attention on the woman whose hair she was transforming. "H-hello, Mrs. Thompson. How are you feeling today? Are you ready for a new look?"

Mrs. Thompson smiled warmly, her eyes filled with trust. "Oh, hello, (Y/N). I'm excited for a change! I'm putting my trust in you, dear. You always do wonders with hair."

(Y/N)'s fingers trembled slightly as she combed through Mrs. Thompson's hair, her voice hesitant. "T-thank you, Mrs. Thompson. I appreciate your trust. Let's discuss what you have in mind."

As Mrs. Thompson described her desired hairstyle, (Y/N)'s anxiety became more palpable, causing her words to stumble. "S-so, you want a bob with layers, right? I-I can definitely do that for you."

Mrs. Thompson nodded, her confidence in (Y/N)'s abilities unwavering. "Yes, that's right, (Y/N). I believe in you. You have such a talent for creating beautiful hairstyles."

(Y/N)'s smile grew, her voice softening further. "Th-thank you, Mrs. Thompson. I'll do my best to give you the look you want.."

As (Y/N) began cutting, her hands displayed steady precision despite the underlying nervousness. She engaged in conversation, her voice often faltering with hesitation. But her dedication to her craft shone through as she meticulously crafted each layer and brought Mrs. Thompson's vision to life.

Mrs. Thompson watched the transformation unfold in the mirror, her eyes filled with admiration. "You're doing an amazing job, (Y/N). I can see your passion and dedication in every movement."

(Y/N)'s cheeks flushed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Th-thank you, Mrs. Thompson. Your words mean a lot to me. I'm glad you're happy with it."

With a soft smile, (Y/N) once again focused her attention on the woman whose hair she was transforming "S-so, how are you liking the new style, Mrs. Thompson?"

Mrs. Thompson, a kind-hearted and chatty woman, gazed at herself in the mirror, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh, (Y/N), I absolutely love it! You're a true artist. You always know just how to make me feel beautiful."

A gentle blush graced (Y/N)'s cheeks as she thanked Mrs. Thompson, her voice slightly faltering. She was known for her attention to detail and the care she put into each client's hair. Yet, despite her talent, (Y/N) carried a timid demeanour, often hesitating and stuttering when speaking to people.

Mrs. Thompson, noticing (Y/N)'s reserved nature, continued, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "You know, (Y/N), you have such a gift. You bring more than just skill to this salon—you bring kindness and genuine care for your clients. It's one of the reasons I keep coming back."

(Y/N) lowered her gaze, a mix of gratitude and anxiety washing over her. "Th-thank you, Mrs. Thompson. Y-your words mean a lot to me."

As the blow dryer whirred and the scissors glide through Mrs. Thompson's hair, (Y/N)'s shyness seemed to melt away, replaced by a deep sense of dedication. She may be hesitant with her words, but her work spoke volumes.

Despite her anxious disposition, (Y/N) wore a constant smile, channelling her passion and love for her craft into every hairstyle she created. Each snip, each brush stroke was executed with precision, leaving a trail of satisfied clients in her wake.

As Mrs. Thompson admired her new look in the mirror, (Y/N) carefully removed the hairdressing cape, her hands gentle and her movements calculated. "There you g-go, Mrs. Thompson. Y-you're all set. It was a pleasure as always."

Mrs. Thompson beamed, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Thank you, (Y/N). You truly have a gift. don't ever doubt yourself."

(Y/N) nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, her stutter more pronounced in her nervousness. "I'll try, Mrs. Thompson. Th-thank you for your kind words."

As (Y/N) put the finishing touches on Mrs. Thompson's hair, she gently guided her towards the front desk where Kyle, the owner of the salon, stood. With each step, (Y/N)'s heart fluttered with anticipation, her anxiety causing her words to stumble even more.

Approaching Kyle, (Y/N) managed a shy smile. "H-hey, Kyle. Mrs. Thompson's all done. I'll let you handle the payment."

Kyle beamed at (Y/N), his eyes reflecting a deep friendship and understanding. "Thanks, (Y/N). You did an incredible job as always. I'm lucky to have you here."

(Y/N) blushed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Th-thank you, Kyle. I-I appreciate your support."

Mrs. Thompson handed her payment to Kyle, who graciously accepted it with a warm smile. As she reached into her purse, she discreetly slipped an additional bill into (Y/N)'s hands, her eyes twinkling with gratitude for the exceptional service she had received.

(Y/N)'s cheeks flushed even deeper, her voice quivering with surprise. "Mrs. Thompson, y-you didn't have to do that. Thank you so much."

Mrs. Thompson chuckled softly, her voice filled with affection. "Consider it a little something extra for you, (Y/N). You deserve it. Keep up the amazing work. Kyle, tell her that she’s deserves it, if anyone knows she does it’s you.”

“That’s right,” Kyle nodded, pushing some hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear, making her smile. “She’s my bestie after all and there’s no one else that knows her better, you deserve the tip (Y/N) trust me.”

Touched by the kind gesture, (Y/N) managed a heartfelt "Thank you" before turning her attention back to Kyle, her anxiety causing her words to stumble once again. "K-Kyle, I...I appreciate everything you do for me. You're...you're the best."

Kyle's eyes softened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Right back at you, bestie. You're not just a talented stylist; you're an invaluable friend. I'm grateful to have you by my side."

As (Y/N) and Kyle exchanged a knowing look, their unspoken bond spoke volumes. Through her stuttering and anxious nature, (Y/N) found solace in the unwavering support of her best friend, Kyle. He had seen beyond her insecurities and embraced her for who she was—a talented stylist with a heart of gold.

As Mrs. Thompson left the salon, (Y/N) watched her go, a mixture of pride and apprehension swirling within her. Though she may be shy and anxious, her dedication to her craft and the ability to make her clients feel beautiful pushed her to overcome her insecurities.

Later that day, As the soft melodies of classical music continued to fill the cozy Hampshire salon, the entrance chimed with the arrival of three unexpected guests. Harry, Katie, and Paul stepped inside, the energy in the room shifting as heads turned in recognition of the famous face.

The warm glow of the salon's lighting seemed to caress the contours of Harry's face, casting a golden halo around his wavy locks. His charismatic smile illuminated the room, his presence instantly captivating. The soft whispers and curious glances exchanged among the customers and staff hinted at the excitement that pulsed through the air.

Kyle, the owner of the salon, fought to maintain a composed demeanor, despite his excitement and slight nervousness. He approached the trio with a warm smile, his voice attempting to exude normalcy. "Hey there! Welcome to our salon. How can I help you today?"

Harry's emerald eyes sparkled with intrigue as he glanced around, taking in the salon's aesthetic. His charm and genuine nature put everyone at ease, creating an atmosphere of familiarity. "Thanks! I was wondering if anyone named (Y/N) works here?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Kyle's face before he quickly composed himself, not wanting to reveal the inner excitement that threatened to burst forth. "Ah, (Y/N). Yes, (Y/N) does work here. Why do you ask?"

Harry's gaze locked with Kyle's, a sense of eager anticipation in his voice. "Well, my friends have been raving about (Y/N)'s talent, and I was hoping to meet them, maybe get a haircut."

Kyle's excitement mixed with a touch of disappointment as he spoke, his voice laced with anticipation. "I'm sorry, Mr. Styles, but (Y/N) is currently on her break. She'll be back in about fifteen minutes. Would you mind waiting for her?"

Harry's warm smile remained unwavering as he nodded eagerly. "Of course, I'll happily wait for her. Take your time."

As the minutes slipped by, the anticipation in the salon grew thicker. The melodies of classical music seemed to harmonize with the gentle whispers of excitement among the stylists and clients alike. The door chimed softly, announcing (Y/N)'s return from their break.

(Y/N) stepped into the salon, their demeanor exuding innocence and a hint of shyness. Clad in a delightful summer dress and a cozy cardigan, their eyes hidden behind a pair of earphones, they seemed oblivious to the presence that awaited them. Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Harry Styles himself sat patiently in the corner, his gaze fixed on the doorway.

Kyle, unable to contain his excitement any longer, subtly nodded his head in Harry's direction, silently urging (Y/N) to turn and discover the surprise that awaited them. As if sensing the unspoken cue, (Y/N) turned their head, wide-eyed and innocent, their gaze meeting Harry's.

And in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The collision of their unsuspecting eyes sparked an undeniable connection, an intangible thread weaving between their souls. The air crackled with electricity, anticipation hanging in every breath.

And there, in the cosy Hampshire salon, the stage was set for an extraordinary encounter that would forever alter the course of (Y/N)'s life. The moment held infinite possibilities, as two worlds collided in a collision of fate and destiny.

“Hi…excuse me…(Y/N), right? m’names Harry,”the singer smiled at her politely. “— I was wondering if I could possibly speak to you somewhere in private? It’s okay if not.”

As the weight of the moment hung in the air, Harry's eyes locked with (Y/N)'s, a silent request passing between them. Sensing Harry's desire for privacy, (Y/N) glanced at Kyle, their trusted confidant and supporter.

(Y/N)'s gaze pleaded for guidance, and Kyle, understanding the unspoken need, smiled warmly. "Of course, Sir. (Y/N) would appreciate speaking with you in private. I'll make sure they're comfortable."

A mixture of apprehension and curiosity danced in (Y/N)'s eyes as they nodded in agreement. The safety net of Kyle's presence and the knowledge that they had someone they trusted nearby provided a sense of reassurance.

With a gentle smile, Harry gestured towards a quieter corner of the salon, away from the prying eyes and curious whispers. The anticipation swelled as they found a secluded space, cocooned from the busyness of the salon.

In the secluded corner of the salon, Harry's gaze was filled with anticipation as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of recommendation. "(Y/N), my friend Lou, who happens to be a dear friend of yours too, recommended you. She told me about the incredible talent you possess."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and nostalgia washing over them. Their voice trembled with the remnants of their anxious personality, stuttering as they spoke. "L-Lou? Oh, yes, I know her. She used to teach me when I was learning to be a hairdresser. We've kept in touch since."

Harry's expression softened with understanding, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Lou speaks highly of you, (Y/N). She mentioned how talented and dedicated you are. That's why I'm here. I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to be my personal hair stylist."

The weight of the decision bore heavily upon (Y/N), their anxiety surfacing as their voice faltered. "I-I'm honored, Harry, but I'm... I'm really hesitant. It's such a big responsibility, and... and I'm not sure if I'm ready."

Harry's eyes reflected empathy as he placed a comforting hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder. "I understand, (Y/N). It's a big ask, and I don't want to pressure you into anything. You don't have to say yes right away. Take your time, think it over. Your happiness and comfort matter above all else."

Feeling torn, (Y/N) turned to their trusted friend Kyle, who was sat behind the desk and pretending not to listen in on there conversation, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Kyle, what do you think? Should I take this opportunity?"

Kyle's smile was filled with unwavering support as he met (Y/N)'s gaze. "Oh, (Y/N), I've seen your talent and dedication firsthand. You've grown so much since those early days with Lou. This could be an incredible opportunity for you. I believe you're ready for it."

The weight of Kyle's words, coupled with the encouragement that had always surrounded (Y/N), began to lift the fog of anxiety. Though their voice still stuttered, a newfound determination crept into their words. "Th-thank you, Kyle. Your support means the world to me. Maybe... maybe I should take this chance."

In that moment, (Y/N) felt a surge of resilience and bravery, ready to step into the unknown and embrace the possibilities that lay ahead. With the reassurance of Kyle's wisdom and the memory of Lou's guidance, they were prepared to embark on this journey, even if their anxious nature continued to accompany them.

As the sun rose on a new day, the cozy Hampshire salon brimmed with anticipation. The air hummed with excitement as Katie, Harry, and Paul returned, ready to discuss the next steps with (Y/N).

Katie, with her warm smile and approachable demeanour, took charge of the conversation. Her voice carried a reassuring tone as she explained the details to (Y/N). "(Y/N), I'm here to talk about the next phase of your journey as Harry's personal hair stylist. Before we proceed, there's a requirement we need to discuss."

(Y/N) listened attentively, their anxious nature momentarily overshadowed by the genuine kindness radiating from Katie. Their voice quivered with curiosity as they asked, "W-what is it, Miss?"

Katie's eyes sparkled with understanding as she explained, "We'll need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA). It ensures that the collaboration between you and Harry remains confidential. You won't be able to share that you're working with him, except with your immediate family and close friends."

A mix of excitement and nervousness welled up within (Y/N) as they processed the information. Despite their apprehension, Katie's warm demeanour made them feel at ease. They could sense a genuine connection forming, a glimmer of a friendship that had the potential to blossom.

"I-I understand," (Y/N) replied, their voice tinged with a blend of enthusiasm and caution. "I’ll happily sign, Miss. I want to make this work."

Katie's smile widened, her encouragement palpable. "That's wonderful to hear, (Y/N). I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine. Together, we'll navigate the journey ahead and create something truly amazing."

As (Y/N) engaged in conversation with Katie, discussing the details and signing the necessary documents, Harry couldn't help but find himself captivated by her presence. With each word, each gesture, she exuded a certain grace and beauty that resonated with him.

He watched as (Y/N) delicately held the pen, her fingers gliding across the paper with a mixture of confidence and a hint of nervousness. There was an air of sincerity that surrounded her, her genuine nature shining through every interaction. It was in these moments that Harry found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

(Y/N)'s choice of attire only heightened Harry's admiration. The light blue cardigan draped gently over her shoulders, contrasting perfectly with the pristine white summer dress that flowed around her figure. The casualness of the ensemble, combined with the pair of vans on her feet, gave her an effortless allure. Her hair, neatly styled into two French braids, framed her face in a way that accentuated her features. With minimal makeup, her natural beauty radiated like a sunbeam.

To Harry, (Y/N) was like a burst of sunshine in a world that often seemed dim. Her genuine personality and the way she carried herself resonated deeply within him. As he watched her sign the document, he couldn't help but be captivated by her presence.

A sense of awe washed over Harry as he quietly observed, his heart fluttering with a newfound appreciation. In that moment, he recognized the remarkable blend of beauty and authenticity that made (Y/N) so captivating. It wasn't just her physical appearance, but the way she effortlessly exuded warmth and kindness, making those around her feel seen and valued.

As the ink dried on the paper, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for this unexpected connection. (Y/N) had become more than just a talented hair stylist; she had become a beacon of light in his life. And in that moment, he silently acknowledged the beauty that resided within her, both inside and out.

tag list: @kaverichauhan @teamspideyman @victoria-styles

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