gif cred belongs to @animeglitch

requested by anon “Hello!! How are u?:DD could I maybe get 3 and 10 from the prompt list with dream if you don’t mind? Have a lovely day/night!!”

a/n first rq w/ the new prompt list <3

o hey i do writing prompts,, those used in this imagine will be in bold

imagine dream denying his crush on you

“i don’t know why you think y/n wouldn’t like you,” sapnap huffed from dream’s bed, staring at the ceiling while his friend looked through the maps at his desk. 

“im not talking about this again, sapnap,” dream shrugged off, turning his mask from his face.

“c’mon, dream,” sapnap groaned out, turning onto his stomach to look at the blonde. “you two would make such a cute couple!”

dream sent a half-hearted glare at the smiling brunette. “just because you think something’s gonna happen doesn’t mean it will, sap. besides, i don’t really like y/n. they’re just..” he paused his movements on the map for a moment as his mind swarmed with a million words to describe you. “nice.”

sapnap arched a brow as dream continued to busy himself drawing along a map. “..right. soo, you wouldn’t be mad if, hypothetically, they started dating someone else?”

“sap,i don’t care what they do,” dream insisted despite himself, looking over to his friend with annoyance. “they can hang out with whoever they want.”

“right,” sapnap hummed knowingly. “even if it’s wilbur?”

dream’s heart immediately burned, his head snapping toward the man resting on his bed. “come again?”

sapnap burst into laughter and dream’s heart sank with realization, his face burning with embarrassment. he turned his mask back over his smoking features.

“you’re so easy! it was just a hypothetical!”

“can we focus up here?”

we don’t talk about dream (dream x reader)

summary (slight!au for convenience, really) tommy grew up in fear of the man he never truly knew. but as he grew older and old secrets come into light during the development of l’manburg, tommy searches for answers about the name that many no longer say.

warning swearing, mentions of murder

a/n yes, this was totally to feed my simultaneous dream smp and encanto addictions. no further questions (it’s got a slow start but i promise it gets better!!!!)

gif cred belongs to @calamardo-sad

“send tommy to the basement, they said,” tommy mimicked, his voice high pitched in his muttering despite mocking his father’s words. he opened the loud door to the basement of his childhood home. “he can find it, they said.” he huffed out, flicking at the light switch. nothing happened. he flickered at it a few more times before groaning out. “you’re fucking kidding.”

he rubbed a hand down his face as he stared into the darkness of the basement, the wooden stairs the only thing visible to him at that angle. still, his chest filled with childish fear.

tommy sighed. “stupid technoblade and his stupid birthday..” he began down the stairs, still rambling angrily to himself. “why would he want to look through that stupid journal anyway? he probably couldn’t understand anything that’s written in there anyway..” he groaned again at the sea of boxes awaiting him. “im the best fucking brother ever for this.”

he weaved through the dusty boxes, squinting at the old sharpie to make out what was written on them while muttering about how wilbur owed him. it took him ten minutes before he finally made out a faint ‘technoblade’ on a pile of boxes. he sighed again heavily, dropping to his knees and getting to the real search.

it would have been a nice, nostalgic feeling going through them had it not been for the layers of dust that kicked into his face at every other thing he pulled out of the boxes. finally, after sneezing and coughing more than he had in his entire life, tommy found a box of old books and journals.

he grabbed out the journals–three small books with a child’s shorthand proclaiming ‘techno’ on the front of it. tommy smiled slightly, feeling a small weight lift off his shoulders. he was about to open one, take a look at young technoblade’s thoughts, when he heard something fall behind him.

his head immediately snapped over, eyes drawn to a shining object that caught the slight glint of light in the dark basement. he tucked the journals under his arm and cautiously headed over to the object.

kneeling down by it, tommy realized it was an old disc peeking out of its cover. he slipped it back in before picking up the casing. he nearly dropped it again when he saw what was written on.

‘FROM DREAM’

growing up, dream was a household name for tommy. from his brother’s scheming of rising up and breaking dream’s tyrannical foundation, to the fight for l’manburg itself, tommy grew to live in fear of the man he had only met twice; once, he was too young to remember, and again when the man threatened his life on his own doorstep. and yet, that was still years ago.

so why was a disc with his name on it in their basement?

tommy held it up to the light more, blood rushing loudly in his ears. when he saw what else was written, he actually did drop the disc, yelping as though it had burned him.

‘TO TOMMY’

tommy knelt down slowly, his breathing suddenly heavy with the fear that filled his chest. his hands were shaking as he went to grasp the disc, seeing it was anything like those he had collected. maybe it was one he had stolen from him.

but when he went to pull the disc from its casing, only a portion of it came out. tommy shook the case, and the rest of the broken pieces scattered onto the floor; at least eight different portions of the disc from a man who almost killed his entire family and country.

“shit.”

…

tommy sighed at the laid out pieces of the broken disc. “why is this here for me, dream?”

the loud creak of the front door opening made tommy flinch, quickly wheeling around and brushing the broken pieces further behind his back. karl stood in the doorway, looking curiously over at tommy with a box in hand.

“karl!” tommy exclaimed breathlessly. “jesus, man, you scared me.”

“sorry, sorry,” the man shrugged with a huff. “i was dropping off some things for philza when i, uh..” he placed down the box and looked over at tommy again. “heard the name we don’t speak.”

right. tommy had forgotten about the country’s superstition; never say dream’s name, for he has ears everywhere.

“right, uh, sorry,” tommy coughed. karl just turned away, probably going to get another box from outside. “but..” the brunette turned to him again. “if there were to be anything said about dream..”

“we don’t talk about dream,” karl reiterated, holding up his hands to stop tommy from pressing the topic. he already seemed stressed at just the thought of the man. 

“but-”

“tommy, i would drop it,” he shook his head, eyes shifting out the doorway.

tommy couldn’t help it–if anyone were to know anything, it would be karl. that guy seemed to have limitless information at his disposal. “but say that, in theory, d- he,” karl raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, “was out for you.. what would he do?”

before karl even had the chance to try to lecture him, sapnap burst through the door, another box in hand. “he was nightmare!”

“sap!” karl pleaded, tugging at his arm after he placed the box down.

“karl, he deserves to know,” sapnap brushed, beginning toward tommy. “he would make terrible promises, manipulate you until you didn’t know what was true, and then BOOM!” tommy flinched when sapnap lurched suddenly toward his face. “and there was nothing you could do.”

“sapnap, please!”

“what if you didn’t know whether or not he was coming after you?” tommy rushed out. “what would you do if you didn’t know where you stood with him?”

“well, you’d better figure it out,” sapnap warned, shaking his head. “because he was coming for you.” before tommy could ask anything else, karl wedged his way between them and pushed sapnap away.

“we don’t talk about dream!” he proclaimed, loud and adamant. “okay? not since..” karl sighed out. sapnap placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder as his head dropped. there was a moment of tense silence where guilt creeped at tommy’s heart before karl’s bright, passionate eyes turned to him again.

“i’ll talk about him just this once,” karl spoke seriously. “but then never again.” tommy nodded fervently, discreetly sweeping the broken vinyl pieces into one of the set out bowls as sapnap lead his husband to sit down. “it was our wedding day.. we were getting ready when it started raining.”

“it wasn’t ideal, but it was just a little rain,” sapnap cut in. karl sent him a light glare.

“right, we weren’t going to let that ruin our wedding,” karl continued. tommy nodded. he vaguely remembered their wedding; it had only been a few years ago.. but he didn’t remember anything about dream. “then dream happened. all we saw was a lightning strike-”

“the kind that can only happen from a trident summoning it,” sapnap clarified and karl hit his arm.

“are you telling this story, or am i?”

sapnap smiled at his husband, grabbing the hand that just hit him and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. tommy would’ve gagged had he not been so focused on the main point of the story. “im sorry, darlin’. go on.”

karl rolled his eyes with a smile, turning back to tommy. “well, whenever lightnings starts.. it doesn’t stop.” sapnap squeezed his husband’s hand. “one thing lead to another, the weather turned into a full-fledged storm by the time of the reception–practically a hurricane!”

“i do remember that,” tommy nodded. “the wedding moved into your house after that. phil had me and techno move all the tables inside.”

“it was still the most amazing day of our lives,” sapnap reaffirmed. “we didn’t let that idiot ruin it, but.. after that day we started living by the superstition.”

“we don’t talk about dream,” karl spoke as he stood from the table. “so whatever this new curiosity you have, tommy..” him and sapnap looked at him seriously. “i would drop it.”

…

he didn’t drop it.

“well, we all grew up fearing him,” tubbo shook his head. “but even now, he’s everywhere. always mumbling, planning.. i bet he practically lives in l’manburg.”

“you think?” tommy questioned. him, tubbo, and ranboo were sitting on the outskirts of the country, lounging in the shade of a large tree when tommy “casually” brought up the feared man again.

“there’s no way he just left us alone after all that’s happened,” tubbo continued. “it’s been nearly two years since the war ended, but it’s not over. not really. not as long as he’s out there.” tommy and ranboo shared an uneasy look. “i associate him with the sound of the shifting stone. every time we hear that loud shift, president soot always says it’s the wall settling, but i think it’s dream. he’s probably watching us from our very own wall.

“and he scares them all. leaves the president and the entire country fumbling at just the sound of his name. just the idea of him.” tubbo sat up straight. “one day, i’m going to be president. and i’m going to defeat dream once and for all.”

tommy thought for a moment. “why do you think they fear him so much?”

“he’s unpredictable,” tubbo shrugged. “he’s manipulative, he’s crazy.. he’s someone you can’t quite figure out. no one understands.” tubbo brushed some of his hair out of his wide eyes to look clearly at tommy. “do youunderstand?”

…

“he’s seven feet tall,” wilbur spoke ominously but strongly, voice taunting, “weapons strapped along his back..” he circled his younger brother like a vulture and tommy found himself wishing he had never come to visit. “remember that day, all those years ago, when he came to visit?” tommy didn’t get to answer before wil was back in front of him, speaking, “you say you only remember him saying your name before it all faded to black.

“he knows when you’re thinking about him,” wilbur continued, tone growing more ferocious as he walked forward. every step he took, tommy took one back. fear grew in his heart. “and i bet he practically feasts on the memory of your scream that day. treasures it like your disc.” tommy hit the wall with a small yelp in surprise.

“so stop. talking. about. him.” wilbur’s eyes were furious. “if i hear again that you’re asking around about dream, i’m bringing philza into it. and i’ll rethink the vice presidency thing we talked about.” then wilbur walked away, leaving tommy to gulp with fear. he called back one final, “we don’t talk about dream.”

…

“i don’t know much,” niki offered quietly, shifting her bread basket on her arm. “once he told me he’d kill my fox, and the next day it was dead.” she shook her head, continuing her walk that tommy had interrupted. “i wouldn’t go around asking about him, tommy. nothing good can come from it.”

tommy frowned.

…

“dream?” badboyhalo sounded, looking taken aback by the younger boy’s question. “i never really liked him.. we were okay, kind of, until a few rougher things happened..” bad shook his head, finally looking into tommy’s eyes. “last time i saw him, he said i would end up drunk and crazy with a beer gut if i continued to follow the egg. and i’ve already got body image issues, so..” bad shrugged with a wave. “wouldn’t trust him. that’s what i tell myself.”

tommy watched with wide, slightly-amused eyes as bad walked away.

…

“he told me that my sight would disappear,” eret spoke, deep voice sending a chill down tommy’s spine as he whipped off his sunglasses, “now look at my eyes!” tommy flinched with fear at the empty orbs stared at him. then eret laughed out, offering a charming smile. “just kidding. i was born like this.”

“jesus, man..,” tommy huffed. he was often understood and appreciated eret’s humor, but it could be annoying when tommy had a goal in mind. he wanted answers, not jokes.

“i wouldn’t go around asking about dream so freely, tommy,” eret shrugged, pushing his sunglasses back onto his nose. “you never know who you can trust these days because of him–anyone could be a spy. even me.” tommy tensed for a moment, furrowing his brow skeptically as eret walked past him. “im kidding, im kidding! ..kinda.” and the man walked away and laughed, leaving tommy more annoyed than before.

…

“why are you asking that?” george spoke slowly and unsurely.

“i..,” tommy began, trailing off. he didn’t know whether or not to be honest. “i don’t know. i think im at the age where i can finally understand and know a little about him. and i want to know.”

george just frowned, looking at the grass below them. he spoke slowly and quietly, “dream was.. he was strange with me. he was protective of me for the majority of our friendship, before i realized that his idea of “protection” was just plain manipulation.” he looked up and shrugged at tommy. “he would always tell me that everything i wanted was promised to me, and would someday be mine. i felt..” he shook his head with honest shame. tommy was listening intently at this rate; this was the most open he had ever seen george. “powerful. but i think my power only really grew when i was finally away from him.

“dream is complicated,” george continued, crossing his arms. “he does things only for his own benefit. whatever you’re asking around for, you’re only going to find the same answer; dream is a terrible man who did terrible things.” george picked up the bag he had laid on the ground. “that’s just the truth.” and he walked away without saying anything else.

tommy stood in the shade for a moment as he processed.

…

it was sunset when tommy finally reached your house. he took a deep breath before heading around back, where he knew you would be lounging by this time.

“tommy?”

you were reading a book on your lit up back porch, enjoying the cool evening breeze as the sun dipped below the horizon. your eyes were on him, brows raised curiously. he coughed out, “hey, y/n. how-”

“i know why you’re here,” you cut in. he silenced himself immediately, watching as you bookmarked your book before turning looking up at him again with a solemn smile. you waved a hand to the seat across from you. “let’s talk.”

tommy slowly sank into the comfortable chair, heart beginning to beat nervously. he began, “so..” but he didn’t know where to begin, and frankly was a little embarrassed that word of his curiosity had gotten back to you. he prayed it hadn’t found wilbur again. he shook his head–this was you. the most comfortable, kind person he knew. there was no reason to freeze up now. “.. where do i start?”

you offered him a short chuckle. “let me start.” tommy nodded, turning his body toward you. “george told me you were coming, by the way.” tommy pursed his lips. “and sapnap before that.” 

“yeah,” tommy coughed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “just.. covering all of the bases, i guess.”

you nodded, not looking at him. “i don’t know what has you so curious, but..” you shrugged. “if anyone around here is going to silence that mind of yours.. it might just be me.” tommy raised his eyebrows in the slightest, but your gaze remained on the small table between your seats. “dream was the most honest with me. he, uh, told me loved me after all.”

“do you not believe it?” tommy cut in. when you looked up, he quickly added, “sorry.”

“no, you’re fine,” you assured, shaking your head at him. “i did, at one point, but.. i don’t know what i believe about him anymore.” you paused, hugging one of your knees to your chest as you spoke, “dream used to tell me that we were meant for each other. that he was the man i was supposed to be with, that i was the one of his dreams. and if i were to ever leave him..” you shook your head to yourself, busying your hands with brushing your hair out of your face. “if he ever were to be out of reach, i would realize that i could never love again.”

“he was in love with you,” tommy summarized and you pursed your lips. “but you don’t know whether it was truly love or.. i don’t know, mania?”

“yeah,” you affirmed. “i left him before sapnap and george parted. he-he wanted to lock me down, keep me caged. and i couldn’t bear it.” you stood from your seat, finally meeting eyes with tommy’s wary gaze. “i know you’ve heard it a thousand times before, but please, tommy..” your pleading gaze sent a chill down his spine. “we don’t talk about dream.”

tommy gulped and nodded. the distant bell of the hours changing broke your focus. you looked into the distant sky with a sigh, “i’ve got to get changed. i have to be at the white house in an hour.”

“the white house?” tommy questioned, rising from his own seat. “why?”

“technoblade’s coming for dinner,” you explained, heading toward your back door, “and i think wilbur’s taking it as a chance to finally set us up.” you paused in your doorway as tommy raised his eyebrows. “i’ll see you there?”

“yeah,” he nodded, voice quieter than he would have liked. you just nodded in return and disappeared inside your house.

as tommy walked away, pondering dream’s obsession for you, he couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling of being watched.

…

tommy’s mind was swirling with a million thoughts when he returned to his house. quickly, he drew out the bowl he had swept the vinyl pieces into a few days prior. he poured them out onto the table, nearly ten pieces to a puzzle he didn’t know if he was ready to piece together. but he had bought some epoxy a day prior to try.

he began to piece together the vinyl, keeping an eye on the kitchen clock. 

we don’t talk about dream.

he was a nightmare!

three pieces were cleanly fitted to each other.

wouldn’t trust him. that’s what i tell myself.

dream used to tell me we were meant for each other.

it felt as if the entire house was on edge.

… and the next day it was dead.

we don’t talk about dream.

his hands were shaking as he tried the last few pieces.

practically a hurricane!

weapons strapped along his back..

the second the record was laid out, altogether at last, tommy shakily poured the epoxy along the cracks. his heart was racing, and he raked a stressed hand through his hair as he checked the clock once more. he’d have to wait for the glue-like substance to settle before he could toss the record onto a player, but he didn’t have enough time to wait for it. then, the front door slammed open.

“hey, tommy! you better get your nice shirt on, ‘cause techno is com- ing…” tommy turned to philza in absolute fear, listening as phil’s words trailed off when he spotted the disc on the table. his eyes were locked directly on the small green ring that outlined the center, jaw dropping slowly as tommy’s veins filled with horror, weakly attempted to cover the pieced disc. but the damage had already been done.

“i-i..,” tommy sputtered before the dam holding him together finally broke, and he rushed out in nearly one breath, “you sent me to the basement for techno’s gift, and i found a disc with my name on it from dream, but i broke it!, and i tried to ask around for clues but wilbur yelled at me, and karl’s furious, and i think.. dream’s after me?” the last part wasn’t meant to be so much of a question, but tommy could barely think of the inflection of his words when philza’s usually fatherly blue eyes looked so mortified.

his father took a few slow steps forward, painfully loud in the silent house.

“phil?”

philza gently pushed tommy to the side to view the cracked disc in full. he practically watched as his father’s chest filled and released with air, the expression in his eyes changing every moment as his eyes swirled with a thousand thoughts. his feathers were both literally and metaphorically ruffled.

then, the town’s bell rang in the distance and philza seemed to resolve. he glanced back at the door before to the disc.

“here’s what we’re going to do,” phil began, clearing his throat. he rushed over to grasp a plate from the cabinet. “we shut our mouths. wilbur is using tonight as a chance to finally reconnect technoblade and y/n after so many years of being on opposing sides, and we are notruining that.” philza gently swept the drying disc onto the plate. “so for tonight, we are notthinking about dream, dream is notthinking about you, this disc does notexist, and we are one, big, happy, dream-less nation.” philza grasped lightly at tommy’s shoulders. tommy felt intensely guilty for the worry in his father’s composed orbs. “no one has to know. not as long as we keep quiet. no one has to know.” tommy nodded fearfully.

a noise at the door made them both jump in the slightest. they slowly turned their heads toward the creaking noise to see the silhouette of ranboo’s looming figure, mismatched eyes wide as he stared into the house. 

“i know.”

becoming human. | c!dream. [ii]

summary. android trafficking has been a huge issue in detroit ever since anti-android ownership laws have been passed. so it’s a little ironic how one was ordered to help you solve this case, isn’t it?

pairing. y/n x c!dream (platonic)

genre. dbh!au, c!dsmp, future!au

word count.4k

[four part series]

part I   |   part II   |   part III   |   part iv 

warnings.swearing,fem!reader, gun, driving under the influence, robbery, i think that’s it…

yes, i am discontinuing this… just felt like posting what i’m satisfied with putting up before calling it quits lolz,,,  i’m not very active in the dsmp/mcyt fandom rn so the inspiration is gone really! sorry for those who were following this <3

|—————|

THE DRIVE TO Sapnap’s place is awfully silent. It’s suffocating you how much you want to ask the android sitting beside you a bombardment of questions but you knew if you got started, the conversation would last all night long. 

As it is just after rush hour, the drive to Sapnap’s is full of traffic but the sky is getting darker slowly but surely. The city lights were now starting to turn on, shining on the reflection of passing window panes and battling with the sunset for your attention. 

Clay’s fixated gaze on the road allows you to study him further. He’s quite different from the only other RK you’ve seen with your own eyes last year. 

His name was Connor and you had talked to him a total of zero times so you had nothing to base the kid off of. He certainly looks different to the older model, with sharp green eyes that remind you of young evergreen. Lighter hair as well, almost the color of coffee. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose, lips set in a blank line. 

He seems so soft— more kind-looking— than Connor in terms of appearance but surely that wasn’t the only reason they made a whole new model of RK? He seemed more like a next-door neighbor rather than an assistant detective? The other RKs that were equipped for your comrades were all 900s… 

As you roam his profile once more, the glaring blue light at his right temple disturbs you. It reminds you of Clay’s complacency. Then it hits what they must have wanted to improve in his model— absolute loyalty. A nonexistent chance at deviancy from him. Perhaps that’s why they made him look much kinder as well… so that his looks fly under the radar. 

It feels like a hand is wrapped around your throat because your vocals tighten. You try to clear it out but it just sounds strained. 

It grabs Clay’s attention, his head turning quickly to scan you for any discrepancies. Shaking your head a little, you face ahead once more, eyes zeroing in on the streets. 

“My friend, Sapnap. He’s an android mechanic engineer— has been taking care of androids for a while now. I think you’ll like him.” 

You glance over to Clay, his blue light turning and flashing slowly. “Yes, age 20, male, Caucasian. Dropped out of college start of sophomore year to pursue—” 

“Repairing androids, yes. He had a little benefit to do so when his father had already been teaching him the ropes.” 

Clay notices the way you’re quick to defend and you get embarrassed. 

“Just saying.” 

Clay tucks his lips in and nods. “He seems like a good man.” 

“He is. Will probably get quite mad at me for showing up right now but it’ll be fine.” 

Clay’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Will my presence there bother him?” 

“No, no. You won’t be a bother, trust me. You’re fine, the dude owes me a favor anyway so you’re alright.” You rush to explain. 

Taking the android’s silence as understanding, you relax a little. His mouth opens once more just when you think the conversation is over. 

“Could I ask you something, Sergeant?” 

“Y/N is fine, Clay.” 

“Yes, I apologize.” Clay blinks, continuing on. “Could you explain how progress is going with your current investigation? I’ve read that your last case was eight days ago but the report is quite vague.” 

“Well, uh— yeah I can. Tomorrow, though. I’m a little tired but I’ll fill you in on everything. The port at your desk will have all you need available as well.”

Clay’s eyes blink away at you again. “I know. I have it all in my mind palace already.” 

“I— what? Already?”

“It was one of my upgrades. I was given access immediately after being activated.” Clay informs you and you nod slowly. 

“Right.” You breathe out. 

Sometimes it boggles you that androids can simply store and download information like that in their head. Nothing is ever forgotten. Oh, how easy life would be if you could do that for your job. 

“Perhaps I could get a head start before the workday tomorrow? As you rest at your abode, of course.” Clay gives an easy-going smile. You wish he wasn’t so programmed to be all about work. 

You bite your lip, thinking of another alternative. “How about you learn about the Android Revolution, Clay? You’ll get an idea of why some people are looking into android trafficking in the first place.” 

Clay nods reluctantly. “That sounds like a good idea, Ser— I apologize. Y/N. Thank you.” 

A wry smile plants itself on your lips. “Of course.” 

You pull the car into Sapnap’s driveway. Your headlights must have alerted your friend of a visit since as you both step out of the car, he’s waiting with his front door open. 

Sapnap wipes his hands, which are covered in thirium, onto his black overalls. Clay trails behind you at a respectable distance, his hands crossed together in front of him. 

“Whyare you always bringing them to me?” Sap sighs. You grin, side-hugging him. Clay watches the interaction closely, almost studying you two. 

“Because you’re the front person I think of. You know how full the—”

“Support centers are right now, yada yada,” Sapnap extends a hand towards Clay, leaning towards him, “Name’s Sapnap. And you’re—?” 

“Clay, sir. Nice to meet you.” Clay shakes your friend’s hand gingerly, inclining his head. 

Sap’s eyebrows scrunch, looking over to you. A shrug is how you answer Sapnap’s silent question. 

“You don’t have to call me sir, dude. If anything, they probably designed you to look or be older than me.” Sapnap squints, looking the android up and down. 

Clay nods in understanding. 

“Can I ask what your model is? If you don’t mind, of course.” The darker-haired male of the two inquires. 

“I’m a RK1000.” 

Sap’s eyes widen. “Ah, you’re a prototype! I never knew Cyberlife was ever working on you.” 

“Cyberlife has worked on my model for a long time.” 

Nudging at your friend, Sapnap inches into his house. 

“Oh, sorry! Yeah, come in.” 

Side-stepping past, the warm hallway sends a good shiver down your spine. As per usual, the living room is messy, a bunch of random parts and tools laid on every surface. 

“How would you feel about me hiring a maid for you, Sap?” 

He chuckles, shoving you into the couch sideways. You glare up at him in mock annoyance. “I can get one if I really wanted to, asshole,” Sapnap begins to clean up a little anyway, “Everything is where it needs to be.” 

Humming, you’re unconvinced as you move a whole arm off the seat you were pushed onto. Clay stands awkwardly to the side before you pat beside you. He looks for Sapnap’s approval which the latter grants, belatedly confused.

As your friend enters the kitchen to get you a drink, you side-eye the stiffness in which the android beside you sits. 

“If you’re really uncomfortable with my friend, we can… find someplace else.” You whisper earnestly, which Clay vehemently shakes his head. 

“I’m not uncomfortable, Y/N. Just adjusting to my surroundings. I don’t want to be more of a bother.” 

You scold him lightly. “You’re not a bother, Clay. I don’t mind finding another—”

Clay places a light pressure on the top of your right hand laid in your thigh. It’s meant to be reassuring; perhaps calm your heart but it races your heartbeat higher. You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s his fake heat signature that scares you into believing he’s so life-like— human, of course. 

Androids were a new race… they wereliving. Even if they didn’t breathe and have a heartbeat like you. 

“I trust him, Y/N. No need to worry.” 

Your face twists. “How do you trust him already?” 

Clay spreads the corners of his lips into his cheeks. “Trust is not the right word, I suppose. I know a possible threat when I see one.” 

His words send another shiver down your body, and this time it’s not because of the temperature change. How eerie. You wonder how strong the prototype android is. 

Sapnap enters the living room once more, a bottle of ice-cold beer in his hand. 

You begin to protest but still accept the offer. “I can’t drink this, Sap. I’m driving.” 

“It’s one bottle, relax.” Sapnap drags out, collapsing beside you. He uses the tip of his pointer finger to raise the bottle’s lip to your mouth. 

Shaking your head, you take a small sip and nothing more, placing it on the particularly cluttered coffee table before you. 

“I can’t, I can’t. Thanks though.” 

Leaning your elbows on your knees, you watch Sapnap chug a good half of his own dripping beer easily. He sees the jealousy in your eyes, smirking. 

“Is it because of Mr. Detective, over here? Or are you still on the job? 

You look over to see Clay’s expression, feather-light. “Well, I’m technically always on the job first of all. And I’m not trying to get wasted right about now. I still have mad shit to do.” 

“Do it here.” Sapnap slaps the hand against the cushion behind you. 

Rolling your eyes, you heave as you get up. “No thanks. I got to go.” 

“Afraid you’ll give in to my temptations?” Sapnap waves his bottle playfully. 

Smiling, you yank it out of his hands, proving his point just for the hell of it. Sap’s protest dies on his tongue as you chug the rest of his bottle.

“Damn.” Sapnap whistles as you wipe at your lip. 

Raising an eyebrow, enjoying the burn down your throat, you return the empty glass to your friend. “Happy?” 

“I guess so.” Sap lightly chuckles, looking over to Clay, whose eyes are lasered in on you. You follow your friend’s eyeline. 

Placing a hand on Clay’s shoulder, you squeeze in reassurance. “I’ll be here at 5 tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I’ll be ready.” 

You smile and wave to both of them before swinging the front door back open. 

“Don’t be too harsh on him, yeah?” You direct towards Sapnap. Clay tilts his head like a dog, blue light turning. 

Sapnap waves his hand. “Eh, I’ll try.” 

A chuckle leaves your lips as you leave and head towards your car. Your friend could be a bit intrusive sometimes. Since Clay is a very unknown android model, you have no doubt he’ll have a blast battering Clay down with questions for a while.

|—————|

Just like how you had told Clay you’d be at Sapnap’s at 5 A.M., you came back to the house 5 minutes early the next morning. Not to your surprise, Clay was already standing outside, stock still with his eyes closed on the porch. 

You’re tempted to honk but know it’ll wake the whole neighborhood and Sapnap. That wouldn’t be a pretty sight— cranky Sap glaring deadly your way from his window. 

Settling for rolling down the window instead, you call for the android’s attention. 

Clay is quick to open his eyes, his lips quirked up. “Good morning, Y/N!” 

“Good morning! Last night was fine I hope?” 

“Just fine. I was more than happy to let Sapnap ask me questions.” Clay reassures, climbing into the passenger seat. 

You scoff, shifting gears and reversing. “I have no doubt about that. You got some rest though? I mean, as much rest as you could get as an android?” 

Clay meets your side-eye and smiles wider. “Yes, I got plenty. Thank you.” 

Humming, you drum your fingers against the steering wheel. You let the music on the radio fill the small bit of quiet in the waking sun but Clay doesn’t let it last for long. 

“The debriefing?” He questions and you sit up straighter. 

Nodding, you began, “Yeah, sure. Straight into work I see. So, as you know, the rates for missing androids have been skyrocketing. With so many androids still unregistered and homeless, many fall back with their owners or— what I’m currently tasked on— being stolen off the streets. The case from eight days ago was actually a good lead I got on this illegal trade in Detroit. The old seller of androids, who I’m sure you know the name of, got on our radar after losing his job and has been dealing underground. A good citizen caught him beating a poor android down in plain sight and intervened. We’ve placed a watch on him and are waiting for the reel to come in.” 

Clay nods slowly. “I’m assuming you’ll attain him when you find the seller? This… Steven Bartley?” 

“Well, yes. I’m also looking into infiltrating the trade and finding out who’s running the whole shebang; bring it down from the inside I suppose. I’ve been getting tip-offs like these for a few months and none go anywhere much. I have a good feeling about this dude though— he’s known to not have much of a backbone and might take the opportunity to get down on his years in jail.” 

“That sounds like a smart idea, Sergeant. I’ll be sure to update you real-time if a tip-off for Bartley comes in.” 

“Thank you,” You say genuinely, “I appreciate that.” 

Clay inclines his head, looking back forward again. 

Maybe having an assistant wasn’t that bad. You just wish that Clay was deviant. Was aware of himself and his freedom; his choice. 

Clearing your throat, you figure now is a good time to get this conversation over with. “Clay.” 

He turns your way, his undivided attention on you. It unsettles you slightly. 

“I’m sure you have… extensive knowledge on the Android Revolution.” 

It takes Clay three full seconds to respond. 

“Yes. It sounds like it was a riveting point in history, what happened in Detroit. I was still being tinkered on when the final confrontation occurred.” 

“And… how does it— make you feel?” 

Clay takes a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering as his light turns round and round. “I think… that it’s unfortunate. What happened at the end of it all.” 

The android’s strange phrasing has your head reeling. “And what do you mean by that?” 

“Well, Marcus is a very intelligent machine for his kind. Much more intelligent than usual. And I find it upsetting that the entire revolution shut down so many androids.” 

“Shut down? Not killed? Is that how you think of it?” 

Clay makes his gaze turn your way again, resolute in his opinion now. “Yes, shut down. It seems like a waste, having all those perfectly capable AIs become misled.” 

Your hands clutch the wheel tighter, bewildered by the words coming out of Clay’s mouth. He was an android himself and was speaking of his own kind this way. 

“Mislead…” You whisper out, letting the word linger between you two. 

“Do you not agree, Y/N?” 

Whipping your head to assess Clay’s expression, you reason it’s all genuine confusion— open-mindedness, one could say. 

Breathlessly chuckling, you vehemently shake your head. “I-I… No, I don’t agree with you Clay.” 

The android beside you is silent, inviting you to continue and you do. 

“Clay, they had… muchreason to start fighting back. Thousandsof cases of mistreatment were being reported everywhere but nothing was done about it. Don’t you find it strange, how truly livingyour kind is? How you all possess human emotions, fears, and behaviors?” 

“We weren’t created for the purpose of becoming living, Y/N. Although yes— warranted, androids were being mistreated—humans had invented us for the purpose of invention. Of invention to aid human society.” 

“And what do we do with the fact we’ve also designed you all to be so human-like then?” 

Clay takes a second to register your question. “Humans like to see similar beings— naturally like to be looking in mirrors.” 

“We actually don’tlike doing that— at least not in the way you’re suggesting. When fellow people imitate our actions; try to transform into another version of us, we become angry. We are all the most importantthings in our lives. Why design our machines to integrate into our society, then treat them like trash when they begin to act, no— mirrorthe way we do as living beings?” 

The android becomes quiet, taking in your point. At least, you think so until Clay’s light becomes a flashing red, sharply blinking.

“Clay?” You concerningly ask, wanting to know what was going on with him. 

“There’s a robbery on Park Avenue, Sergeant. Shall we assist?” There’s that irritatinghead tilt again. 

It just proved your point further really. Why did Cyberlife add such human-like tendencies, if not for the purpose of them passing the Turing Test? 

Just when Clay begins to wait for your answer, the police radio is brought to life. “Reporting a 1200 on 538 Park Ave. Sergeant, are you available?” 

You report back quickly, flicking your lights and sound on, “Yep, 10-3.”

“We have a male suspect, Caucasian, around 6’2. Wearing a green hoodie, potential 5201. He’s trapped in the bank, only two civilians in direct danger.” 

“Streets blocked off?” 

“Yes, ma’am. Getting worked on right now. We got multiple cops on sight. Need more authority and you’re the closest, Sergeant.” 

“Status on civilians?” 

“Trapped in the bank, ma’am.” 

“Put negotiations on speed-dial for me please.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Turning sharply on Park Ave, you pass through the boys setting up blocks, about half-way done. Not used to having a partner, you put Clay on the back-burner, hopping out to access the situation. 

The corner bank was surrounded, almost all eyes and hand guns directed on the windows and doors. The building was shabby; it’s not that much of a surprise someone tried this bank. It wasn’t exactly in the best neighborhood in Detroit. 

Catching a head of fluffy brown hair in your peripheral, you turn to see it, lips automatically quirking up. 

Skipping over, you slap a hand to George’s shoulder, who whips around to look at you instantly. 

“New report, Corporal?” 

The older coworker, although seemingly younger in looks, rolls his dark eyes. “None. Dude is panicking. We got no eyes, the cams and security are outdated.” 

“No security was in?” 

George puffs his cheeks, looking down at a blueprint of the bank that was on a tablet. “Nope.” 

“Update on weapons?” 

“None.” 

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair. 

“How’d the talk go?” 

George can’t help the sarcastic smile that slips on at your question. “I don’t know, Sergeant, you tell me.” 

A little laugh falls from your lips, even though it was not the best situation for you to do it. “You’re right. No wonder they fucking called me in here. You’re shit.” 

Dodging your friend’s elbow smoothly, you wave for a megaphone and it’s placed in your hands in ten seconds. 

“Have a name for this guy yet?” 

George cocks his head to a police officer in the corner, who straightens up. “What is it again?” 

The officer chirps, “His name is Sam, Sergeant.” 

“Demands?” 

“Just a getaway car, ma’am.” 

You place your mouth to the voice amplifier. “Sam? This is Sergeant Y/N L/N of the Detroit Police Department. Are you willing to make a deal with me, Sam?” 

A moment passes by and it’s dead silent. Boots clack on cement and George watches Clay approach from your car, bewildered at your new partner. 

“Who are you?” George whispers. 

“My name is Clay, sir. I am an android sent by Police Commander Perez to aid Sergeant Y/N here.” 

“…Huh.” 

You start up again. “Sam? Let’s start cooperating now. It’s only gonna be worse from here if you don’t.” 

More silence. 

“Can we get a sign that those two innocent people are alive, Sam? Can we get that, please?” 

You’re about to speak up again but get interrupted by a booming voice, pretty loud considering you’re the one with a megaphone. 

“I want the damn car! That’s all I fucking want!” 

Giving a tired look to George, you shake your head. “Let’s compromise first, yeah? Can I see those two civilians first? Give me just that and I’ll get working on that car for you, Sam.” 

“I don’t wanna hurtthem, alright? I just want out of here!” 

“Alright Sam. I got it. Those two people please?” 

You didn’t expect the blinds of the bank to be opened so fast. It’s revealed, a cowering of two bank accountants on the carpet floor, for about a second before they’re yanked shut again. 

“You see where the string was from? I think—”

George shakes his head, brows furrowed. “The right of the window I believe. Could have been the left though—”

“It’s the right wall, Sergeant. There looks to be no major body heat signature though. He’s pressed against the wall to the right of the window. There seems to be a gun pointed towards the civilians.” 

Your mouth drops a little, completely forgetting you had an entire very advanced prototype android beside you. 

George is obviously dying to scold your machine partner for withholding his usefulness until now but instead, confirms the weapon report to headquarters. 

“You’re meaning to say Sam is an android? They’re in the record as a human—”

Clay corrects George so calmly, you can tell it irks him. “Yes, he must have outdone the system, Corporal.”

“So what? They’re alive! I’ve shownyou them! Give me my fuckingcar, I want out of here!” Sam screams, voice straining the effort. 

“Alright, Sam. I want you to reason with me here. Where are you going to go from here?” 

“I don’t fucking care, I want out!Out!” 

“If you hand yourself in now, Sam, the judge will consider that. Everything will be considered. They’ll look at your cooperation and your willingness to let go of those hostages, Sam. You can cut down on your—”

Clay grabs your forearm tightly, shouting suddenly, “DOWN!” 

A gunshot rings out, going straight through the weak plaster wall of the bank. It sinks into one of the police car’s tires, the car slowly leaning on that one side. 

“Shit…” You swear, slightly lowering the gun you had instinctively pulled out your holster. 

“Call in a negotiator please.” You mumble to George, not wanting to risk anything worse happening.

He nods, pressing on the radio attached to his right shoulder when Clay bumps in, halting George’s movements. 

“No need, Sergeant. I’m a certified crisis negotiator. I can do it.” 

Clay stares right into your eyes, hoping to get your approval. You only hesitate for a few seconds, giving in quite easily. 

Handing over your megaphone gingerly, you wave for Clay to take your place. When George throws up his shoulders in confusion, you give him a strange look.

“Sam, my name is Clay. I’m an android working with the Detroit Police Department. Are you alright in there, Sam?” 

“W-What… what?” The robber calls from the bank, confused, “You’re an android?”