Requested by renlmafo: Reader suffers depression and has a bad depressive episode that makes them stay home from work for a few days and Connor visits their house, trying to get the reader to tell him what's wrong and reader eventually cracks and pours out everything to him. semi-happy ending? the reader isn't "fixed" obviously, but there's a slight glimmer of hope because connor vows to try to do whatever he can to make reader feel better :')

Requested by Goon: Maybe Connor x reader where the reader is depressed and self harms. They cries when he finds out sure. But they are surprised to see Connor start to have a panic attack- him crying harder than the reader and breathing irregular. And they try to calm him down but he goes on this long list of how life would be so terrible without them, like- how HE would've attempted to deactivate himself if it hadn't been for the reader, and he was upset because the reader didn't think about that when they were attpting. Angst- ending with fluff and cuddles and lots of neck kisses to make up for pain- thank you for reading! Have a good day! Love ya writing!

I wasn't entirely comfortable with writing about the typical idea of self-harm, aka cutting and anything similar, so I decided to go with invisible self-harm... like, the neglecting to eat/drink/take care of yourself kind.

That being said, this chapter deals with depression! I feel very good about this chapter and I hope you all enjoy it! :)

Disconcert

You would have felt guilty for not responding to Connor's text messages if the weight of your depression was not dragging you into a wearied state of detachment.

There was an ache in your muscles - you'd been sat in the same position for god knows how long and your body was screaming at you to shift over into an arrangement that didn't leave your legs tingling with lack of circulation. You were slumped against the side of your bed, staring at the wall as though the indentations in the textured wallpaper held the secret to the universe, and you felt as though you were trapped in an endless stupor.

You gave the blanket around your shoulders a slight tug, pulling it tighter around your frame, and let your eyes drift to your phone which was sitting on the carpet by your knee, the home-screen lighting up with a new notification to display the several texts you had received from the concerned android throughout the day.

The earliest message - 'Captain Fowler tells me you won't be able to make it into work today. I hope you feel better soon' - was from 10:12 that morning, and over the next several hours, Connor had sent a batch of texts, getting progressively more worried each time, until the most recent one you'd received, which simply read 'I'm coming over, now.'

You would have responded to him sooner, but your mind did not want to cooperate; your phone was right there beside you, but in order to answer his increasingly apprehensive text, you would have to have unfurled from your 'comfortable' position, and that was the last thing you wanted to do.

If you were to even move your arm, the motion would send a fresh wave of despondency through your body - the very feeling you had been trying to avoid in your immobile state, so you stayed put, hoping that you would eventually muster up the will to pick up the communications device and ease your favourite android's nerves.

But you hadn't. You'd just sat there in place, listening to Africa by Toto on repeat for the last three and a half hours, hoping the cathartic song would purge the hopelessness from your body, and not only that - the excessively loud rhythm of the beat drowned out your self-deprecating thoughts rather nicely… at least to an extent.

You hated yourself so much, and now you had to pull yourself together in order to inform the anxious android that you were completely fine and not at all injured like he assumed in the face of your silence; if Connor turned up to find you nestled in the darkest corner of your room, purposely refusing to answer his frantic check-ins while you willingly letting his agitation grow, he'd think you were a pathetic mess. He'd lose all respect he had for you - if he even had any to begin with, that is.

'I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become.'

The music did not appear to be helping.

Your eyes were drawn again to your phone when it started to vibrate unremitting, the words 'Connor calling…' flashing on the screen with the option to answer or decline - a trickle of anxiety rushed through you at the sight; the android must've been desperate to get a hold of you if he was resorting to calling, he knew how much you disliked speaking on the phone - and here you were, letting it ring out, doing nothing to assuage his fears.

You were a horrible person.

Instead of reaching for the phone, you clutched the stereo remote tighter in your hand and upped the volume of the music till it was practically deafening, before taking the blanket around your shoulders and throwing it over your head, drowning everything else out so that there was only you and the reverberant music.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, and you didn't care.

Connor's brow furrowed as he dropped the call that obviously wasn't going to be answered; he'd sent a total of twelve messages across the length of his shift, and not one of them had incurred a response. He didn't want to make any assumptions, but it was definitely atypical for you to disregard his attempts at communication - usually you were so eager to respond - and he'd run over the numbers in his head, growing uneasy at the fact that there was only a thirty-one percent chance you were completely fine.

Fowler had refused to tell him the reason for your absence, which didn't particularly provoke suspicion - there was, after all, an extent of confidentiality regarding illnesses and such things, but the lack of clarity on your health state made Connor's predictions unreliable, which meant there was no telling how accurate his statistic was.

What if your illness was serious and you'd been bedridden all day, unable to reach your phone? What if you'd tripped and hit your head? What if you were lying on the floor unconscious and suffering from a severe concussion? What if you were bleeding out? What if you'd already bled out? What if you were dead?

It was irrational for his processor to fire off these hypothetical situations based on one conjecture, but he'd been initially designed to construct the prospects of any possible outcome, and thus couldn't really help it.

Connor knocked on your front door for the second time, hoping all of his speculations were incorrect. Maybe you'd just been sleeping all day to combat whatever illness had forced you to call in sick that morning and you just hadn't heard your phone ringing?

If you hadn't heard your phone ringing, you probably weren't going to hear him knocking on the door.

Connor observed the front of the house, taking note that the lounge window curtains were drawn tight, refusing to expose the inside of your home along with any clue as to where you might've been; the android cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure there were no eyes about before making his way confidently into the side passage where he hopped the metal gate effortlessly and proceeded around the back of your house, his attention landing on the kitchen windows.

From his new position, he could hear the faint sound of music playing and cocked his head, automatically analysing the tune for further information.

Connecting… sync in progress… sync done.

Collecting data…

Processing data…

Africa, by Toto

Classic Rock, Pop

Release date - 1982

Connor frowned, peering into the kitchen to scan the available area for any signs of life; his gaze fell immediately to the sink that was stacked high with dirty plates and cutlery, and then to the small dining table in the centre of the room - the chair was pulled out and there was an unopened box of cereal on the table. Through the archway that led to the hall, Connor spied the basket by the laundry room which was practically overflowing with clothes that had yet to be washed.

The kitchen was generally unclean, with recyclable materials littering the floor abundantly - however, it didn't appear as though there were any signs of a struggle. It looked more as though you'd just placed things down and hadn't bothered to throw them in the recycling basket.

Connor inclined his head, trying to catch a glimpse through the arch in the hallway; the angle wasn't ideal and he could only see a flicker of light emanating from the lounge, but nothing to imply with certainty that you were in the room.

He blinked, eyes settling on the partially open window to his right, and quirked an eyebrow; with deft fingers he slotted his hand through the thin gap and prodded the bolting mechanism, unlatching the lock bar so that he could pull the aperture agape to allow himself room to climb in through the relatively small breach - despite his best attempt to avoid knocking anything over, Connor accidentally elbowed a plastic cup that tumbled to the floor, producing a tumultuous racket that might've startled anyone listening were it not for the already blaring refrain resonating throughout the house.

Now that he was inside your home, it was clear that the music was ridiculously loud; Connor's scanners indicated that at the source, the noise was pushing eighty-six decibels, which was just on the cusp of damaging to a human's hearing.

The android entered the hallway, giving the living room a quick once-over - the television was on but you were not present. However, at Connor's arrival in the room, the cat curled up on the couch stirred from her doze and slinked down from the sofa, approaching him to nuzzle against his ankles, letting out a few enthusiastic meow's in greeting. It was the first time he had met your cat, but you spoke about her often enough that he felt as though they were well acquainted already. 'Her name's Lola and she's way too affectionate for her own good. She'd probably want cuddles from a burglar if my house was broken into.' You really hadn't been exaggerating.

As much as he wanted to pet the cat, Connor abstained. Knowing your whereabouts and health were more important in that moment, and the android semi-reluctantly walked away from the feline to follow the clamorous music, up the stairs towards what was presumably your bedroom.

Upon reaching the door, he knocked and waited a few moments, figuring that on the off-chance he overthinked the entire situation, you would probably not be overly pleased to find Connor barging into your room unannounced.

You didn't answer the door. Shocker.

Connor turned the doorknob slowly and pushed the door open, the full force of the obnoxiously loud music irritating his audio sensors so much that he felt compelled to mimic the very human gesture of covering his ears to protect his input sensitivity. He squinted through the darkness of the room, scanning over the messy but empty bed, before finally catching sight of the head-shaped silhouette peeking up from the other edge of the bed.

A flutter of concern pushed him forward and he rounded the bed to find you slumped in your sitting position with a blanket wrapped tightly around your head and shoulders; Connor frowned, turning his attention to the blasting stereo which he wasted no time in hacking in order to mute the music, catching a brief look at the play-time statistics.

The song was the only one in the playlist and had a play-count of forty-four times this session, accumulating just over three and a half hours of constant ear-splitting music. Why had you been listening to the same song at such a ridiculous volume for so long?

As soon as the music let up, Connor reached down and pulled the blanket off of you.

You were half asleep when the music came to a sudden, unexpected end.

Your fuzzy, protective blanket was torn from you abruptly, causing you to groan and blink your dry, bleary eyes, squinting up to find the vague outline of a person standing over you - if it wasn't for the flickering yellow LED on their forehead, you would've recoiled a fair bit further than you did.

"...Connor?" you rasped with confusion, your throat completely dried out, before your disorientation was struck with a little clarity and you remembered that the android had informed you via text he would be arriving shortly before your exhaustion overcame you in the form of a restless nap. Your face scrunched up in displeasure at your uselessness - you really hadn't wanted the android to see you like this, and now you had wasted his time by failing to inform him not to bother coming over.

Connor spoke your name with inquisitive alarm, eyes dragging over your body as he presumably carried out a scan on your vitals, and if you hadn't been drowning in hollow despair, you might have been embarrassed at the fact that you were dressed only in a pair of pyjama shorts and a flimsy tank top.

The android blinked, his LED continuing to shine in a puzzled manner before he appeared to momentarily gather himself, "Exposure to noise levels of eighty-five decibels or higher for prolonged periods of time leaves you at risk of hearing loss."

"Huh?" you mumbled, voice slurred slightly. There was a light ringing in your ears, leaving all else a muffled mess, and it made everything above your shoulders feel uncomfortably heavy, causing your head to lull forwards in your futile attempt to angle it upward.

Connor knelt beside you, cupping your face in his hands. "Look at me", he instructed when your eyelids fell in exhaustion, and you forced your eyes open, looking up at the android with shame evident on your face. "I am detecting several signs of severe dehydration. Can you stand?" he asked, and you shook your head, already well aware of the answer to that question.

"...no."

"Then I'm going to carry you."

You gave a half-hearted protest as the android picked you up, one arm behind your shoulders and another below your knees, lifting you effortlessly off of your bedroom floor to take you out of the room and down the stairs with no room for argument.

"You shouldn't have come… I'm fine…" you murmured, voice grating as you spoke.

"You're clearly not", Connor remarked, a hint of reprimand in his tone that you picked up on and amplified a thousand times greater in your head until you were convinced that the android hated you.

"Ah… m' sorry", you stammered out, teeth gritting together in a vain effort to avoid breaking down in tears - you hadn't meant to anger Connor, you hadn't meant to waste his precious free time, or to avoid his worried messages while he spent his entire shift fretting over your safety; your throat tightened as you tried to keep the misery out of your words, "I didn't mean to… I'm sorry…"

You buried your face in Connor's neck to avoid the no-doubt judging stare he was giving you.

Connor carried you to the sofa, sitting you down and unwinding your arms from around his neck when they tightened as he made to step away from you, "I'm just going to get you some water", the android gently clarified, a little disinclined to leave your side while you were in such a state, but knowing that you were very much in need of a drink, "Stay there."

You let out a mirthless laugh, "I can't move."

Connor wasn't sure what had happened to you, but it couldn't have been good. Humans were delicate with their emotions but in order for you to end up in such an indisposed condition, something big had to have set you off - the death of a family member? Or a friend? Whatever it was, you had run yourself down into a state of affliction.

The android returned with a glass of water - he had at least found one clean cup in the cupboard - and handed it to you, watching closely to ensure you actually drank it, and you did - quite enthusiastically at that, you were very dehydrated after all. He reached for the empty glass again when you moved to shakily place it on the coffee table.

"When was the last time you ate?" Connor enquired, eyeing the tremor in your hands.

You rubbed your tired eyes, letting out a soft guttural noise, "Urgh… yesterday… I can't remember when", you answered without confidence and Connor's eyebrows narrowed before he turned back to the kitchen - that was a long time for you to go without eating. It certainly explained your lethargic state.

Connor searched the sparsely-stocked fridge, pulling a few things out to throw together a small snack for you, and re-entered the living room four minutes and twelve seconds later to find you curled on your side, out like a light. He placed the plate down on the coffee table and shook you carefully, calling your name. You could sleep later, but for now you needed to eat.

You stirred again, a little adrift in your instability between consciousness and unconsciousness, and groaned, covering your eyes when you saw Connor standing above you again.

"You don't have to stay. You can go, really", you forced out, wishing the android would leave you be so you could wallow in your despondency in peace and not have to worry about looking like a pitiful mess.

"I made you a sandwich, you'll feel better if you eat", Connor advised, passing you the plate that housed the cream cheese and cucumber sandwich he had expertly crafted; he watched you stare at the plate, your face taking on an alarmingly impassive quality as his words sunk in, before your face crumbled in distress and you started to cry. Connor squeezed your arm comfortingly where his hand rested, not entirely certain what he'd done to invoke your reaction, "What's wrong?"

You didn't answer, burying your face as you hugged your knees to your chest and weeped, so Connor pressed on, refusing to just give up in identifying your issue - he needed to help you, and in order to help you, he needed to know what was wrong with you.

He spoke your name firmly, "Tell me what's wrong, and maybe I can help."

"You can't help", you said, shaking your head, "you can't help, you can't." It was pointless, nothing Connor could do would rid you of your depressive thoughts, not even the android who was talented in so many areas had the ability to cure your wretched outlook on life, and him being here was only making it worse - all you could think about was how much of a failure you were, sitting in your own filth crying your eyes out while everyone else at the precinct got on with their lives and worked through whatever hard times they may have encountered. They were all so much more strong-willed than you.

"Please talk to me", Connor implored. His LED hadn't stopped blinking yellow.

"Please just go", you retorted, looking up at him through your watery gaze; you knew he didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of your bitterness and frustration, but he was there and you couldn't help yourself - you needed to vent, to let out your resentment, "Just go! You've seen how pathetic I am, you can leave now! Why did you even come? How did you even get in?" you clutched at your hair, gripping so tightly that you were just shy of pulling the strands out.

Connor's mouth fell open in hurt confusion, "I… I wanted to check on you. I was worried", he spoke, "Something's wrong and I would like to know what it is-"

"I'm depressed, okay?" you snapped, breathing hard through your nose, "I'm fucking depressed." Just saying the words made you feel worse - admitting it to another person left you feeling humiliated, especially when they could see the result of it first-hand. You watched Connor's LED finally cycle blue and his eyes widened faintly as he finally understood the situation; his gaze flitted to the clutter and disarray that extended far beyond just the living room, before he looked back to you, his face pulling into an expression that you interpreted as pity, which only furthered your terrible mood.

"Don't look at me like that. Just leave me alone."

He spoke your name, his voice so sympathetic and soft that it made your chest ache, and before you knew it, he'd moved closer, kneeling before you to wrap his arms around your body, but you couldn't- you couldn't deal with it. You didn't deserve his kindness and care, you were worthless and ungrateful and a horrible friend.

You pushed him away. Or, to be more specific, you kicked him in the chest - not with a great amount of strength, given your enervated state, thus it was more of a pitiable nudge with your foot - but it was enough to knock the android off balance, and he fell back against the floor, catching himself with his arm, looking up at you with an incredulous, wounded look. You didn't miss the way his LED flickered red for a few fleeting milliseconds.

It made you feel low, and further powered your self-deprecating thoughts, "I- I'm sorry, I… I'm so sorry", you whispered, tears trailing down your face as you once again pulled at your hair.

Connor stared at you, head cocked as you cried for a few minutes before pushing himself up to sit by you once again; this time, when he wrapped his arms around you firmly, you didn't push him away.

You just continued to cry.

The android said your name, his voice quiet beside your ear, "Eat the sandwich. After that, we'll talk, okay?" his tone was light, he didn't sound at all mad that you'd treated him so poorly, and you didn't understand why.

He waited for you to calm down a little more before letting you go, picking up the plate from the coffee table again to place it in your lap, and then he stood up and wandered back to the kitchen, much to your confusion.

"What're you doing?" you asked, your voice still a little scratchy from your emotional state.

"Feeding your cat", he answered, casting a small smile over his shoulder before turning his attention to the feline who was sitting patiently by her food bowl, meowing every so often, "I think she might be hungry."

You felt a rush of guilt, not only at having neglected to feed your cat, but at the fact that Connor felt the need to take responsibility for what should've been your task to fulfil. Lola mewled as the android approached her, quickly moving to scratch at the cupboard that housed the cans of cat food, and the sight of Connor caring for the little overly affectionate animal brought you a miniscule flutter of joy in your otherwise bleak mind.

Looking down to the sandwich Connor had made you, you felt your lip quiver; you knew the android was right and that you really needed to eat, and that your stomach was hurting because you needed to eat, but the prospect of swallowing food at that moment felt sickening, you needed to wait a while and give yourself some time to calm down before putting anything in your belly.

You scoffed quietly, you couldn't believe you'd gotten sentimental over a sandwich. It wasn't even the fact he'd made you the sandwich.

It was the fact that he'd cut the crusts off.

It was a tiny thing, such a small gesture. Obviously Connor had observed that you always cut the crusts off of your own sandwiches whenever you brought a pack lunch with you at work - the fact that he'd noticed and stored that information away affected you somewhat. It sort of… contradicted your thoughts, in a way, and made you confused. Your brain told you that everyone hated you or thought you were worthless, that nobody cared, but Connor's actions candidly challenged that notion.

Your head lulled down as fatigue encompassed your body and you reflexively adjusted your sitting position till you were laying in a more comfortable arrangement. Though, of course, in your lying position, sleep enticed you all too easily, and your eyes fell shut for the third time.

When you woke up again, it was to the pleasant tone of Connor's voice calling your name and you squinted, blinking the blurriness out of your vision before you looked up at that handsome smile you admired so much. As soon as you were lucid enough, the android sat you up and once again shoved the plated sandwich into your face, along with the words, "You need to eat."

You groaned, still not entirely sure you could stomach the kindly-prepared food, and shook the sleepiness out of your head before looking past Connor's head. Your mouth fell open in baffled shock.

"How long was I asleep?" you stuttered, eyeing the now pristine living room.

All the clothes that had been strewn about the floor were gone, tidied up, along with the dirty plates that had been left around carelessly - all the litter and mess was gone, and you looked through the archway to the kitchen to find that the sink was now devoid of grimy cutlery and dishes.

"Thirty-two minutes and forty-nine seconds", the android answered, "Now, will you eat?" he seemed so insistent that you wondered if he was moments away from unapologetically shoving the food down your throat himself.

"I…" you were speechless, "How did- what the fuck?" he'd done an incredible amount of cleaning in just over half an hour - cleaning that would have taken you about an entire day to carry out if you'd tried to attempt it. "You- you did the dishes and the laundry?"

"Yes, and I took out the trash, collected the recyclables, fitted fresh bed sheets and vacuumed the floors. I'm surprised you slept through that- actually, no, I'm not surprised. You just about deafened yourself earlier", the android smiled, a touch of light-hearted amusement in his words, but you were too busy enduring the resulting truck-load of remorse to pay it any attention.

"You- you…" you couldn't believe it, "you really didn't have to- you shouldn't have… those were my chores… you're not my housekeeper, why did you do all of that?"

Connor's smile ebbed away for a few moments before returning in a more subdued and sympathetic light, "You weren't going to do them." It wasn't a quip designed to make you feel bad - it was a fact. You weren't going to do them, it was the truth, and yet even despite the benevolence in which he delivered his words, it still made you feel awful.

You buried your face in your hands for the millionth time that day, speaking in a very small voice, "You didn't have to do that…"

"I know", Connor told you, once again laying that consoling hand on your shoulder, "I wanted to. I wanted to help."

You sniffed, swallowing around the lump in your throat, "I don't deserve your kindness."

Connor's LED flickered, "What makes you think that?"

"Because I'm worthless."

The android's nudging finger under your chin made you look up into his eyes - his warm eyes full of so much tenderness and consideration, "Is that what your depression tells you?"

You wanted to say no, it's just the truth, but you knew he would chastise you for saying such things, and you didn't have the energy to disagree anymore, so instead you simply nodded your head.

"I see. I think I understand", the android spoke, and whether he meant it as a solace or not, it did not have the mollifying effect he had probably hoped for. You shook your head, jostling his hand from your shoulder.

"No", you said, "You can't understand, Connor. You're an android - androids don't get depression. It's not the same as feeling sad, it's- it's… it's just fucked up." You let out a heavy, troubled sigh, watching as Connor's gaze fell briefly before returning with a sliver of determination.

"You're right. Maybe I can't understand what's it's like to experience it, but perhaps you can try to explain it to me? If I have an empathetic understand of the affliction, then I might be able to try and see things from your perspective." He sat down beside you, poised to listen, and you stared at your interlocked fingers for several long minutes, pondering.

"Alright… I'll try… but if you're still clueless after I've tried to explain things then don't blame me. It's not an easy thing to describe", you relented, shrugging your shoulders. You had to be careful and precise with your wording; you needed to think of a way to explicate the complications of the heinous mental disorder in the most accurate way possible without making it sound like you were just 'having a bad day', as a begrudging amount of people put it.

"Depression is… it's like… empty, and cold, and lonely- all the time, no matter what. It's like a perpetual darkness… some days are less dark than others, but it's always just dark enough. It's like trying to navigate your way through an impossibly thick fog, or trying to fight an invisible enemy, or trying to steal a breath of oxygen while you're chained to the bottom of the ocean. When someone tells me to 'just get over it', it's like someone presenting me with a mile-high mountain and telling me to 'just hop over it'. It's… it's hard… to do normal, mundane things like scrub the dishes or wash laundry because it's constantly sapping my energy-", your voice cracked, which in turned made your cheeks flush red from embarrassment, "-and it… it's the stupidest things that set me off. I woke up this morning, and I- I went to pour some cereal, and there were no clean bowls left and that was enough to put me in this fucking state and I hate it, I hate myself-"

You let out an anguished noise, rushing to cover your face as fresh tears dribbled down your cheeks. It felt mortifying to reveal the reason you'd been holed up in your home away from work that day - for such a menial little thing that, in retrospect, seemed so absurd to get upset over - you could only imagine what Connor must've been thinking as you admitted that, "Don't laugh", you pleaded. People had laughed at you before, you'd come to expect it, but it would be different if Connor were to express ridicule at your struggle - it would've been enough to break you.

"I'm not laughing."

You peered through the gaps in your fingers, your gaze drawn to Connor's LED which was cycling red. He looked… sorrowful, regretful, distressed even, especially when matched with the glossy quality to his sad eyes.

The android pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you, and whispered your name, "You don't deserve to experience that kind of pain, and if I could somehow take it away from you then I would. I… I want you to know that I'm here for you, and I'll always be here for you - if you need me, I will come, no matter the time, okay? Even if it's the middle of the night, I'll come. I care about you, and I want you to be happy. Please don't ever be afraid to ask me for help."

Connor sounded utterly heartfelt, it was probably the most earnest you'd ever heard him, and the sheer compassion he exuded had you shaking. The most astounding thing was that he sounded so convincing and optimistic that you actually found assurance in his words, for the first time in a very long time. You felt… hopeful.

His statement had left you speechless, and you merely let yourself be held by him for as long as he was willing to embrace you. It was several minutes before he pulled back to check that you hadn't fallen asleep against his shoulder, and he offered you a sympathetic smile, which had your lips curling up in the corners despite how exhausted you felt.

And if his affectionate hadn't already been enough, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, making you flush for a whole different reason.

"Connor…" you breathed, "I don't know how to thank you."

The android inclined his head, a ripple of playfulness reaching his expression, "You could thank me by eating the sandwich I made for you", he spoke, once again presenting the plate before you like an offering to royalty, and this time it managed to make you giggle.

"Alright", you conceded, taking the plate, "You win, I'll eat the sandwich."

He sat with you, watching like a hawk to verify that you actually did eat it instead of feeding it to the cat, or something. You took small, slow bites, but you managed to devour the whole thing eventually, and afterwards you stared at the cleared plate, letting out an audible sigh before you stood, took it to the kitchen, and washed it in the sink.

When you turned around, Connor was standing right there in front of you, a splendid smile on his face. "I'm proud of you", he said, and you wasted no time in scooping him up in a crushing hug that he willingly returned.

The two of you only parted when Connor felt something tugging at his leg, and when he turned his gaze downward, he found Lola pawing relentlessly at his jeans, letting out a long and beseeching miiaaaaoooooowwwwwww, to which Connor immediately gave in, giving the needy feline all the affection she craved.

As you watched the android give Lola excessive attention, you felt as though a weight had been lifted, alleviating a portion of your fears and doubts. Connor might not have been able to cure your depression, but with your android partner, you felt as though you could face anything and come out of it alive.

Notes: If you suffer from depression and have suicidal/hopeless thoughts, please find your country's national suicide hotline number and talk to someone.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you did! :)

An announcement: THE NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA CONTAIN EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT ;) It will be up next Thursday and it is a special chapter - a birthday present for a good friend ;) So y'all have that to look forward to! Hopefully the chapter will make up for the 7-day wait till the next one! Unfortunately my birthday break is over and I'm back at work starting tomorrow, thus there will be a longer wait for the next oneshot, but I do hope you will enjoy it when it IS posted :P

Requests are still closed currently, but I will be reopening them in a few chapters time!