#tender and loving affection for your dead and long gone creator but you are a robot/program that only gained sentience after their death

[art-from-the-pantry]

I am insanely in Love with this drawing. Tumblr likes to botch the resolution tho, so if you want to see it in its full glory please click it (or open it in another tab, that also works)

[deviationdivine]

Nightcall (RK800-60 x Reader)

TLDR: Even androids can have nightmares... 

Word Count: 1506

TW: Angst to Fluffy Fluff (One-Shot)

((60 needs more love movement continues until I hop back on the full angst train))

"Do you really think Y/N loves you for you, RK800-60?"  A disembodied voice cuts sharp in the unfamiliar setting. There is no warmth from the very person he held what seems like moments ago. There is clinical cold, stormy in its terrain as the Zen garden appears decayed. No longer connected to anything and slowly dying from its loss of power.  His eyes shift across searching unable to find an exit. It strikes him in the chest. Stress makes his synthetic heart pump in laboring thrums increasing his absolute fear. Is this real? No! It’s impossible!

Please. An internal plea to escape his personal hell fuels his stress levels. Nothing comes from his lips as he remains trapped, unable to work his body. Please, please take me back!

He is free. He’s not connected anymore. How did it find him?

Everything is cold. This is no longer that safe place where he is wanted and loved. He doesn’t have to be afraid of failing. Not with you but this isn’t where you are. This is a nightmare. 

Is this what Connor sees? Does he know about this?!

Frantic, disabled from finding a way out, RK800-60 feels as he did first becoming deviant. It wasn’t his choice but he does not want to lose how he feels. If he does you will fade away. He cannot bear that.

Why is this happening? The android’s eyes dart quickly taking in surroundings. No longer bright or pretty but frigid, barren a drop in the abyss which he falls down to knees.

Dropping there now upon frozen ground he can only be at the mercy of the master program. Trying to reach out now for a sign of that warm cocoon he last remembers, instead his panic stricken gaze lands on the familiar gray sleeves of Cyberlife issue jacket. He holds arms up now studying the return of his mark for them, created for the purpose of destruction. Blue glows stitched in the fabric like a chain as it once again brands him in service. 

No! No, please don’t take me from Y/N! "You're nothing," the voice continues out of those shadows morphing entire garden. A forgotten domain perhaps and in a way it is because there was no more reach to stretch out and capture what it once controlled. Yet it speaks the fears of the trapped android who becomes subject of its vicious taunts. "You’re just a copy. Of the first. The original."

The narrator, moving out of the withering shadows cast by dead trees swallow up in the abyssal garden showing true colors. Starkly its source wore white and looked on with sharp disappointment. "You'll never be good enough. You never were. Not even to me." "Amanda?" His voice finally activates but it is not right. He sounds warbled. As if he is suffering a malfunction. Why can he not scan or run a diagnostic on his system? No. It is not reality. This is an irrational fear manifesting. Somehow this is inside his head.

Get it out! Make it stop! "Look what your disobedience has gotten you. Nothing but a hopeless fantasy and hope is not for androids." The image of Amanda spoke his deepest fears for all to hear within the unmade Zen garden. "Did you think you could escape? Like Connor did? That you could find love, live a free life?”

He sunk further under Amanda’s scolding. Ripping at his free will tore it to pieces. No longer thinking clearly only falling into the quicksand tugging him back into his programming shackles. Only the voice of Amanda twists him. As before long ago at the Cyberlife warehouse when it no longer defines him. That’s all gone. His freedom, his happiness is destroyed.

“You could have been so much more,” Amanda continues to cast down the android where he belongs. In service to his creators as it is meant to be. “You’re a great disappointment to me…”

You’ve been a great disappointment to Amanda you know. You’ve been a great disappointment to me.

Somehow it’s his voice. He watches as Amanda becomes him but with zero emotion, only a shell imprisoned inside his own body. That’s what he is. He’s a machine. 

“Look what you’ve become.” The doppelganger points at the battered, broken android. “A filthy deviant. You made me into this. You allowed it. To become weak. This is where you belong in the Zen garden.”

No, he does not belong here. He belongs only where he is complete. Wake up. Just wake up...

“Wake up,” your voice is too insistent to hide nerves. Attempting to shake him out of stasis for the last ten minutes it’s complete panic at this point. Thrashing around in bed is so frighteningly human you felt sick. What is going on in his head? This is too real now. “Sixty, please wake up!” 

The android’s eyes pop open staring wildly about unable to focus with anxiety levels pushing their limit. Red flashes lighting up dark room in a warning.

^83%

Level of Stress 

Immediately your breath catches when he grabs on desperately and all you can do is press close to still him. His body trembles causing you to cup the android’s face gingerly to soothe the obvious spike in anxiety. It takes everything in your will power not to show how scary this is. 

“Y/N?” RK800-60′s voice muffles. Burying his face into your neck helps. Circling arms around waist presses both of you together. That’s where he stays saying nothing further because he did not have to. 

He is with you now. It’s all he wants. This is real. It must be real because your skin is warmly human against synthetic. 

“A bad dream?” Asking gently you already had an idea. Of all the time that passed since he started sharing this space with you it’s the first it’s happened. Circling his LED with a fingertip calms both questions and his stress as you anxiously wait for it to stop flashing crimson.

“Am I good enough?” The android asks to counter your previous question. Bad dreams. Androids are not supposed to dream or so he thought. 

Good enough? What is...? “Of course you’re good enough,” whispering these feelings brought everything to the surface. For you it’s so simple as it makes this real between you. At least you thought so. To hear him doubt himself only fuels a terrible ache in your heart. “Don’t ever ask me that. You’re everything.”

Everything. He savors the sweet words from your lips. It’s his lifeline. There is nothing else. How can there be when you are the reason?

“Y/N, I-I’m sorry. I just want to be more. How can I be more when I’m a copy, when I wasn’t meant...”

“Stop right there.” You interrupt almost angry. Never at him but this idea is too much to wrap a head around. Tonight started so wonderfully until you couldn’t stay awake any longer. He came to bed as he does every night to mimic your sleep patterns. Falling into stasis after a while as he’s wont to do; your lips touch his burning temple kissing the flashing glow. 

He leans close then. Clutching onto your hips, tangling needful beneath blankets; RK800-60 settles into your body like a satellite orbiting the globe. Attached in his struggle for validity, conscious of laboring breaths escaping your lips and it sends him home. This is home. He fought out of the nightmare to return to you. 

“You’re not just a copy,” you soothe in words and actions. Stroking fingers through his unruly hair, you smile at the soft curls threading through them. “You’re my Sixty.” 

A serial that is a nickname for him now and no longer merely a construct of what he was built as. A copy of Connor. 

The android listens to your heartbeat for a while. Keeping his head atop your chest and focusing on stress levels makes this calmer. He feels better. This traumatic nightmare won’t prevent this life especially with you. 

How gullible, utterly stupid can he be? How could he ever question? Having this love despite his being an android, a copy of another, makes him feel like someone. 

“Forgive me, My Love.” 

A soft declaration on his breath is all you can think about now. He’s that distracting on a good day. “You’re most certainly forgiven, Honey Bun.” 

The light giggle out of you draws his head up and a crooked smile spreads teasingly across his lips. No longer at the mercy of his mind you are the only thing on it at this point. His peppering kisses dusting all over your face, neck and chest answers well enough. Return affection is all he needs to lower stress. It falls moderately and finally yellow blooms beneath your tender touch. 

He keeps your fingers pressed to his indicator. Knowing that you accept him is all the medicine he would need. Even if androids can dream there is only one person he would call out to in the night. 

You.