Detroit Become Human Connor Fan Art Novels & Stories

There is something deep and dark about that man. Although he could not pinpoint what it was about Connor that made him give off such an intimidating aura, he could only conclude that Connor was a despicable and bloodthirsty human. His hands were tainted by the blood of countless humans whose lives had brutally ended. Coupled with the fact that he was working for a demonic entity, his aura was dark and deadly.

"No." "Then what was your true dream before the pack crown?" "Becoming a creative screenwriter for the big theater screens," Connor says, a rare, boyish laugh breaking through his usual cold expression. He then waves his large hand toward my standing frame. "Come into the water, little wolf."

Ever. Thick eyebrows and unruly lashes framed his chocolate brown eyes, which twinkled with amusement as he looked down at me – because yet again, they were all freaking massive, and my 5’9” height was small compared to them. His dark hair was cut low, close to his scalp, and his high cheekbones and square chin were covered in the stubble of a neatly trimmed, full beard. I wondered if it would tickle or irritate my skin as it rasped against me? His skin was a lovely shade of reddish-brown—burnt cinnamon—and altogether beautiful. He seemed like he didn’t want to be touched when we first met, but skin like that just didn’t go untouched. Wide shoulders and a broad chest strained against the t-s

I sighed, as I laid down on the cold and hard, marbled road. “Thank you, Conrad!” I teased. He laughed and replied… “You are not going to let this be, are you?” He inquired. “Not a chance, Connor, not a chance”. I said, with a note of finality. Connor was really a likable person, he just hadn't found his pack, and that made him bitter. Having him in my pack will undoubtedly bolster my ranks, and in him, I have a powerful beta as an ally.

"Poor baby. Well, listen, I need to show you my new guy. He’s gorgeous, Danny. A total catch." He turned the phone, the camera swinging around to a guy sitting on the edge of a bed, pulling on a shirt. "Hello, Danny?" the guy said. I froze. The voice. The jawline. The way his eyes looked like they were constantly calculating the price of everything in the room. It finally clicked. This was the guy from the club bathroom. The guy who had looked at me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe while he screamed at Noah. "My name is Connor," he said, giving the camera a slow, knowing smirk.

There was nothing except for meat and water. As though Connor had warned me that there was nothing human about him other than his skin. At that very moment, I truly came to realize that I wasn't dating just a male who shifts into a wolf the size of a moose, but an animal that wears a skin to hide his true identity to blend in with us humans. Connor was truly more of an animal. I studied him as he tore off the flesh from the chicken bone in one bite and started wolfishly on another. My eyes went away from him when the table started shaking as the triplet fought for the largest piece of pork."

She also preferred that someone to be Connor the con the artist. *****************************************

I couldn’t do either. Instead I grabbed my sketchbook from the passenger seat and flipped it open. The pages were filled with half-finished pieces for the showcase — twisted bodies in shadow, hands gripping too tight, eyes that looked suspiciously like storm-gray ones staring back at me. I tried to work on the centerpiece, the one that was supposed to capture raw human connection. But every line I drew curved into broad shoulders, inked skin, the way Damien’s jaw tightened right before he came inside me. It was disgusting how much of him had seeped into my art. How much of *us* had taken over everything.

"But Connor...." "Come, I want to show you something." He held my hand and led me to another room, he switched on the light. And the image I saw made me gasp, it was a huge painting of a woman, she sat with a kid on her lap, the dress she wore though it showed that it was old times, was simply breath taking. She had clear golden eyes, flawless skin, high cheek bones that defined her features but not too high, heart shaped red lips. I moved closer to the painting, she smiled at the child on her laps, the child had only panties on. If my calculations are right, the child looks like he was four to six months old, he held the woman cheeks. The child had Gray Silver eyes, no one needed to tell m

he said. I heard the smile in his voice as he leaned over my shoulder to twist the doorknob and push inwards. It swung open without hesitation, and I was blasted by the smell of spilled alcohol and sweat that made me wince. The guy behind me chuckled. “You don’t come to these kinds of things?” he asked, stepping around me when I didn’t answer immediately to catch a glimpse of my face. I looked up in time to lock eyes with Connor Holden. If the Sanguis Pack’s hierarchy worked like high school, then Connor was one of its golden boys: Handsome, with messy, dark blond hair and a leanly-muscled frame that never failed to attract eyes when he was training in the fields.