#whoa...? a fluffy drabble...? from me...? no suffering...? Wild. Sugary sweet!

[divinit3a]

📝drabble: catch me! (if i fall) -> ao3 link 🌟sun x (a devious) assistant reader word count: 2423 chosen words: sparklers, cloud nine, honeydew, letting go, restart

here are the cafe prompts for fellas interested! the deadline for 'new beginnings' is jan 12, 2025 ;3c

“They're called sparklers,” You once told him. Nestled away in the darkness, the sparkle igniting the dim space like a strike of a match. He’s still not sure how you snuck the miniature fireworks into work that day, and he was never brave enough to ask in fear of the cheshire grin that would split across your face. Effectively making him your accomplice, as always. Wore that same grin that always told him he was going to loathe learning what you did this time that put your employment and his life on the line.

The low lighting of the evening tickled at their switch release. Sun hadn’t yet shifted into Moon, but his other half had been awakened and tugged at the dual AI until a presence pressed against his ‘mind.’ The rooftop was technically off limits to the attendant, but you insisted that a technicality was not enough to stop you. 

You dragged him up the stairs, ‘against his will!’, the ‘innocent’ robot would cry with crocodile tears–but he knew that with a single lock of a knee joint, he could have stopped you. He always could've stopped you, but curiosity and intrigue were too devious to ignore. 

”C-careful, you're going to start a fire!“ He remembers you laughing off his safety precautions, letting the sparkler continue to send of tiny sparks. The blitz of light danced across your face, sparkled in your eyes. That's what he always liked about you; a firecracker, a wild spirit who struck the whole ‘Plex like tornado scorned. Always bending the rules in a way that ignited his circuitry, without triggering a full reprimand. Teetering on the line. 

A liability he could delete with one report. Saved a headache.  And yet, the tightrope walk was too enthralling to cut short. 

The air was bitter cold, turning each breath you took into wisps that mystified him. Like you were exhaling magic. 

You'd stand up on the edge of the rooftop, walking along toe-by-toe, a fistful of sparklers in one hand. A fire-hazard. The attendant refused to light one of the hellish sticks, and instead followed right beside you. Matching each step. Reflexes engaged to catch you at any moment. Your actions always triggered their hypervigilance; a disaster sense tickling through his components. 

You brushed your opposite hand against the grated fence that bordered the rooftop, laced fingers between each metal link as you stepped along. 

A slight mis-step. The give of the fence was enough for it to fall down. A comet racing by as the anxiety surged in their wires, compelled to reach forward. 

Wrapping arms around he tugged you backwards, stopping you from recklessly tumbling into danger. You'd laugh and tap away at his shoulder joints, insisting that it was all just in good fun, that you were always fine, that you were safe here. You’d file a maintenance ticket later to fix the fence, it really wasn’t a big deal.

That day, the sparklers slipped out of your grip, and fell two stories down. The bright lights snuffed out in a strong gust of wind. A stroke of luck, Sun scolded, as otherwise it could have started a fire in the parking lot. He remembers that you snorted out a laugh, and patted at his chest plate until he relaxed his grip and set you down. 

You kept acting like nothing in the world bothered you, though he felt the quickened rhythm of you pulse from almost slipping and falling. Simply readjusted the scarf around your neck, and offered him a sparkler, fresh from the pack. Not giving in a single budge until he took it into his hand. 

From your jacket pocket you pulled out a lighter, a deep violet one that was all scuffed up. With great trepidation, Sun squeezed his optics shut and let you light a sparkler for him, tipping it towards the small flame you lit with a click of the sparkwheel. 

Even now, replaying the memory in his mind, he remembers how you cheered on that he was finally ‘loosening up a little.’ Sun let out a nervous chuckle, certain you’d be the end of him. 

Yet, he clings on to the memory of opening his eyes to see how bright that light was. How it lit up the joy on your face, vivid and bright.

The feeling was electrifying. Addictive. The thrill of walking life on the edge; hopped up all the way to cloud nine. 

-------

”Oh, it tastes sweet.“ You'd tell him, reading the robot's mind as it watched with fascination as you pecked away at your lunch. At first you put the employee discount to good use, tried out the fast-order tacos slopped with week-old sour cream and fizzy soda until realizing that it was a one-way ticket to stomach sickness. So now, the tupperware lids scattered around the play table. You wipe off your hands from the sticky residue, and offer the attendant a piece of honeydew.

Sun accepted the piece of food, as if it could ever matter to him. He turned it around between two pinched fingers, appraising the cubed piece of fruit. ”S-sweet?“ He asked, optics flickering up to look at you with an audible click. ”Are you sure, friend? It's all...“ His optics thin out, shutters lowering like eyelids that always caught a spark of light, drew you in to lean closer. Lacking a vaster vocabulary to rely on, the attendant settled on: ”Green. Like broccoli.“ He made a so-so gesture with his hand.

You pulled a face then sneakily slid a piece towards his static smile. The fruit tapped against their piano-key teeth, the snapped-close mask barring entry. A tingle dances across the faceplate, sensing the slightest shift in pressure. Detecting the cold temperature. 

Optical sensors scan the fruit as you hold it to his ‘lips’: 90% water, 9% carbohydrates, 0.1% fat, and 0.5% carbohydrates. The sugar content was moderate, about 8-12 grams of sugar per 100 grams. He failed to grasp the appeal, and said as much through the whirring kicked up of fans.

“Too bad.“ You taunted. ”Guess you'll never understand how great it is.” You popped the piece of fruit onto your tongue instead, made a show of savoring the taste. 

Taste. One of the few senses an entertainment automation certainly can’t replicate. As you chewed, you looked as smug as can be. A twinge of electricity nicked up his arms, caused fingertips to twitch with inaction. 

The subtle interactions stacked up to an avalanche a tap away from tipping over and all falling down.

In the moment, he remembers laughing along, while redirecting extra coolant to his circuits to quiet down the betraying whirl of fans as he overheated. He tip-tapped his fingers together, then shifted the topic towards an easier one. One that made sense to the lines of code filtering through his system, simple and predictable. Unlike you.

“A-anyways, I was thinking that today's afternoon craft could be...” He started a long spiel about cardstock, glitter glue, and macaroni. 

He noticed the way you'd subtly deflate, fiddled around with your notebook as you nodded along to the plans for the day. 

-------

“Like this?” You held up the abomination of a craft. Glue dripped down the sopped piece of paper, colorful faux feathers pasted on without logic or forethought. 

“Nonono, that’s all wrong!” The robot seethed, tugged at his rays, and you just laughed at his superficial anger. The way he’d stomp, and the ring of bells would ridicule his jester-themed tantrum. 

“Alright, Mr. Perfect. Show me how its done.” You gestured to the craft supplies in front of you. He recalls the timestamp: Sunday, 3:42 pm, 18 minutes before you’d stall on leaving. Again.

Sun’s voicebox crackled out a few choice insults, all child-friendly, he’s sure. Lured over by your practiced and weaponized inadequacy, he’d set down the supplies and be pulled from his hellbent task of cleaning the Daycare for the fourth time today. Fell victim to your trivial distractions. 

“Go on, enlighten me.” you’d tease with gusto, and his ruffles would bristle. 

“Well, first off, you aren’t even putting the caps backbackback on the gluesticks—” You’d barely answer his rants, responded with quipped ‘uh-huh’s that grinded his gears. And yet you’d listen to every pointless word, resting your head against your palm as eyelids drooped. At ease. 

With you around, he found that the weekends weren’t so boring anymore. 

For better or worse.

-------

There were days you were quiet, too. Not like yourself– at first he thought, incorrectly. No, all aspects of you were you; as multifaceted as the attendant himself. With darker shadows, a botched attempt at purging a secondary AI. Recycled and restarted, and yet still imperfect. 

Sun couldn’t find you on the shift most the day. Normally he’d tsk and hum and already have half an email drafted to send off to management, but he felt rather generous—and certainly not biased in his decision to spare you. He’d find you tucked into the alleyway directly behind the daycare, bypassing the emergency exit alerts with your clearance badge.

“Smoking is bad for your health,” Sun chided. 

You startled, nearly dropping the lighter in your hands. The small flame warms your palms. A violet stain on your record. 

“You should really let-let-let that badbadbad habit go, firefly.” The robot tsk’s, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway to appear imposing. The firewalls blared in his mind not to take a step outside, as it would go against protocols and leave the daycare unattended during hours of operation. 

You looked up at the nickname, interest piqued. Flicked the lighter closed, a small, damningly hopeful smile quirked at the edges of your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Preach to the choir, sunshine.” You bat the playful nickname right back, and his panels would shudder at the audacity twisted up in his circuits. Fingers curled into fists, rattling with underlaid frustrations. 

“R-right. Well.” Sun scritched at his lowermost rays. “H-hurry back in, its cold outside, and your breakbreakbreak is over in three minutes!” Sun taps the lack of a watch on his wrist, jostling the bells there like a tambourine. 

You bumped against the attendant as you walked past him in the doorway, unbothered by his spindly silhouette. 

“Oh, right. Sun?” His neck hinge swiveled, locking eyes. Rays shrunk back, waiting for your next remark.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you said with a wink.

The attendant stammered as you cackled and walked away, lacking a pre-programmed retort to put up with your hijinks. The hot and cold act that left his wires bunched up into a mess. The intricacies of human behavior often went beyond his programming, but Sun could pinpoint a rulerbreaker with ease. He was sure he rushed you indoors, hands lingering on the cold of your shoulders just a little while longer than necessary to warm you back up. 

-------

It happened when he was trying to restock the supply closet.  An incident he refused to report to save out on his own pride.

Now, the animatronic was taller than the average human, but the storage layout in the ‘Plex was absurd even for robotic standards. Multi-leveled, crates and boxes, all shoved into the warehouse out back. Ladders with wheels attached type deal. Sun tried to catalogue the health-code violations, but his programming set up proxies and wiped the data each time. 

Beneath him, you waited impatiently and held the ladder to keep it steady. In Sun’s opinion the menial task was better than watching you roll the supply cart back and forth, played the squeaky wheels like a fiddle. Now that was a service ticket worth sending in — that the cart’s wheels needed a good oiling. After all, idle hands make for idle minds, and you are too much to leave unattended. 

“Find it yet?” You called up, louder than necessary. His rays retracted, audio input peeked by your shout. He shook their head, resetting the input levels to neutral. 

“A-almost, just need a few more–” Sun reached out to grab a crate with one arm, confident in the circuitry and hydraulics that powered his arms to handle the weight. 

Yet the briefest flicker in the power was enough to toggle the inbetween state between him and Moon, gears grinding and power reserves swapping tempos. The sudden flash was like being struck by lightning, agonizing and leaving their wires tingling as if burnt.

He let go of the ladder. He was falling.

The impact was softer than he imagined.  And noisier, too. 

“Caught you,” You laughed, arms encircled around their scrawny waist as you held them up from crashing into the concrete floor below. The buttons of their chestplate dug into your work uniform. The devious grin he was so enamored by cracked across your face like a thunderbolt. Maybe you knew, and just wanted to cheer him up.

The attendant was shockingly lightweight, a fact you’d deviously keep in mind for later. You acted as if blissfully unaware of the severity of the moment, the possibility of what would unfold should the power have went off for good, or should they have landed and dinged up their chassis over boxes of pom-poms and silly scissors. 

“I—I—You are insufferable!” Sun sputtered.

“Easy there, sunshine. You’ll blow a fuse.” You leaned the attendant back, righting his frozen posture. “See? No harm, no foul.” You brushed the bits of dust and debris off his shoulder mechanisms, paused to feel the delicate thrum of intricate machinery beneath the outer casings. 

The touch lingered as you zoned in on the humming. He remembers that part clearly, the most confusing of all.

“Hey, Sun?” You asked to cut through the shared silence. Voice soft as feathers. 

The attendant leaned in closer, circuits pumped to overdrive with anticipation. 

“Its 4:08. Do you think they’d pay me overtime if I stick out another hour?” You asked, cheekily aware of the extent of your damages to their emotional processors. He would reel back, reprimanded you for staying past clock-out time. The hardwired programming won out against the clockwork in their chest that just wouldn’t calm down, even as he walked you to the exit, raving all the while about your poor work ethic as you grinned.

Sun remembers spending the rest of the day in a daze, too starstruck by the encounter to accomplish much else. 

How he felt anything besides hatred for you, unpredictable, firecracker, wonderful you, the attendant would never be able to calculate or comprehend.