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[poweramr]

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[ssmicroelectronics]

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[mrpenguinpants]

Sakura, did they...set off your romance sensor?

—  "Oh, listen, this boy here…whenever he senses anything romantic…he goes beet red in the face!!" - Tasuku Tsubakino (Ch.66)

— Hayato Suo, Hajime Umemiya, Jo Togame

[Masterlist]

Wow, my windbreaker brain rot has shot me into a whole new timeline where I can sit down and write. Not gonna lie, not my favorite but it is what it is. I've beat my first fic for a fandom nerves.

Hajime Umemiya

When Umemiya had called a rooftop meeting, Sakura had been through them enough to know what to expect. Umemiya would either show up late or be completely off-topic until someone, mostly Hiragi, stepped in to direct the meeting to its actual purpose. Most of the time, the distractions would be on his plants or his giddy plans of having another barbeque with everyone. It used to be annoying, Sakura once believed the reason why Umemiya was so unserious was because he didn't care. But he knows better now than to take that carefree smile on the surface level. Deep down, Umemiya is a great leader who knows when it's time to get serious.

But this...

Sakura's cheeks are already turning pink.

This is a bit too much for him. He hasn't leveled up enough for this.

"The Three Sisters is a method of gardening that involves planting corn, beans, and squash together. The corn provides support for the beans and squash, the beans add nitrogen to the soil, and the squash's sprawling vines create shade and discourage pests too. It's really quite fascinating, don't you think so Ume?" you ask, lightly petting the leaves of his most recent tomato plant sprout. Your eyes downcasted as you thumb away bits of dirt that happened to be blown by the wind onto the greenery. Perhaps it's because you're one of the few people who entertain Umemiya's rapid obsession with his garden, even going out of your way to tell him facts to better his plot and compliment him on his efforts. Heck, Sakura has seen Umemiya crying because Nirei has told him that his saplings look bigger each time. While Sakura does not doubt that those feelings and expressions were genuine, the look Umemiya is giving you, a look you're not even seeing, feels different. Umemiya himself is different.

"Yeah..." Umemiya responds in a soft tone, his voice almost a whisper. Their usually talkative leader who won't shut up for half a second, who talks over people, is currently so distracted that it's kind of embarrassing watching him. He's been staring at you, eyes zeroing in on your fingers as they brush against the leaves, almost entranced by the sight. Sakura would give anything to leave right now, this second-hand embarrassment is too much. Luckily, Umemiya finally seems to register that you and he aren't alone despite the fact he was the one who called the meeting in the first place. His head perks up confused, hands on top of his knees, as he's greeted with varying expressions from his grade captains. Hiragi in particular looks like he's having both a stomach ache and the urge to slap the back of Umemiya's head. The urge is only partially restrained when you also look up, sending them all a little wave. Hiragi isn't going to slug Umemiya if you're there to see it, it's the pride of a man to not get beaten up in front of his crush.

"Oh shoot, you're all here already? Why didn't you say anything?" Umemiya whines, standing up while dusting his pants free of any lingering dirt. He extends a hand to you, not before rubbing his palm furiously on the back of his shirt, to help you up, "I'll see you later?"

"Mm, sure. Good luck with your new sprouts. Remember to remove the bottom leaves once the plants are over 3 feet tall. I'll be upset if they develop fungus issues," you pat Umemiya's cheek gently, ignoring the way that Umemiya completely melts openly at the gesture. You turn to nod at the rest of them, offering another wave goodbye, as you pass them to exit the rooftop. The resounding sound of the door closing finally sets them back on track.

"We did," Hiragi speaks up as soon the vibrations in the air fizzle out with an exasperated expression, referring back to Umemiya's first question, "You were too busy staring. We've been here for almost ten minutes, you idiot."

"Sorry, sorry, my bad," Umemiya laughs easily, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Although he's been clearly called out, Umemiya doesn't seem the slightest bit ruffled. Sure, he looks a little bashful but Sakura doubts that he'll tone it back much to the embarrassment of any onlooker. Maybe one day, he'll be able to look that happy with his own feelings on display.

A sudden clap has Sakura jolting back to reality, Umemiya's loud voice returning back to something familiar, "Now then, come sit! I prepared some snacks for us all to share."

Everyone else seems used to Umemiya's behavior and they easily follow him, completely disregarding your and Umemiya's interactions as if they never happened. Sakura doesn't really get it but if everyone else is unbothered, it'd be seriously uncool if he said anything. He lets out a sigh, whatever. It's none of his business anyway.

"Sakura, why are you blushing?" Nirei, the bastard, pipes up behind him. Suo, the even worst bastard, laughs behind his hand like he's some rich Victorian lady.

"Huh, no I- I'm not." Sakura's cheeks went from pink to red, now that he's been caught. He looks away, avoiding eye contact, "S-Shut the hell up!"

Hayato Suo

"Mr. Customer, if you're dissatisfied with our menu, you're more than welcome to leave."

Sakura blinks, head jerking up as he crosses the threshold of Café Pothos. Initially, he assumed those words were directed at him even though it wouldn't make sense. He quite likes the menu despite only ordering the same thing each time. But no, when Sakura looks up it's to a rather unexpected sight. Suo sits at the bar counter, back ram-rod straight and his hands folded in his lap, with that ever-pleasant smile on his lips. Across from him stands a worker Sakura has never seen before. He always assumed that Kotoha was the only employee, but today seems to be full of surprises. A green apron with white ties, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and hands fisted against the hips.

"The bakery across the street would love to hear your complaints, Mr. Customer."

---

There is something about the new worker and Suo that keeps Sakura glancing back at them after he's sat himself in a secluded corner. Perhaps it's because it's a new face he has yet to meet at a place he frequents so often. It's normal to be curious right? Or maybe it's Suo being here alone. He's never seen the man "out in the wild" before. They aren't even looking at him, Suo hadn't even looked up when he first opened the door although Sakura is sure that Suo is aware of him. He's creepy like that. The new worker, however, whips an annoyed glance at Suo before letting out an irritated huff, arms crossing over the green apron, and glaring down at Suo’s smiling face. A face that would remain ever-pleasant in any given situation.

Regardless...

"Is this your version of service? It must be hard on the customer," Suo chuckles, a slight tilt of his head that bounces his tassel earring. Suo's laugh, however, causes Sakura to feel a hint of surprise. It's not a laugh he expects the man to give, yet at the same time, it suits him.

"That's because you're a terrible customer and a pain in the ass." The worker sneers, leaning in so the two of them are face to face.

Suo seems to be difficult for anyone to handle.

"It's busy today," Kotoha says, appearing out of thin air and scaring Sakura half to death. A plate of steaming omurice slides in front of him because he really does only order one thing here. It's not a great conversation starter, but it's nice of her to break the odd tension that has settled over the cafe. Kotoha is also looking to the side, watching the scene of her co-worker and Suo bickering and arguing. Passive aggressive comments are being flown out, scathing remarks padded with polite voices, so much so that the two of you don't seem to register anyone else around. Completely wrapped up in your world of irritation versus amusement.

"What…are they even arguing about?" Sakura chances to ask, his eyes still glued to the curve of Suo's smile, red eye focused solely on you. His hand idly reaches for his spoon, scooping up a bit of rice and egg, yet it hovers in the air ideally. Suo has his head tilted and is leaning somewhat in the worker's space. His eyes don't stray, watching each shift in facial expression carefully to gauge whether his words are having their intended effect. He looks like he's having way too much fun.

"Oh, that." Kotoha giggles, placing her palm on the table. She too looks like she's having way too much fun, "They always go back and forth like that. It's like a game of cat and mouse with those two. They're both stubborn as hell so it's a constant power struggle between them. Although, I wonder what they're arguing about this time. They always bicker at each other when we change shifts."

Kotoha shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She glances briefly at Sakura before her eyes drift back to the other two. She raises her hand, finally cutting the bubble between you and Suo.

"Hey, I'm back from break. Thanks for covering for me," she calls, waving her hand in the air. The frown that was permanently on your face melts away when you break eye contact with Suo, returning to a more neutral blank look. You only nod to Kotoha, flashing up a thumbs-up, and you move to head back to the kitchen. But not before sticking your tongue out at Suo over your shoulder as you disappear through the doorway. Sakura blinked surprised, he had somewhat expected a different reaction than something so...tame. His eyes drift to Suo and he can feel his cheeks heat up.

He doesn't think he's seen Suo look happier.

Jo Togame

"See, you peel off the seal on the cap. Remove the ring from the little plastic piece you use to push the marble. Then, with your thumb, press down, and poof, the marble drops and you can enjoy!" you grin as you move slowly for Sakura to see your hands with each instruction. The fizz of carbonation and the clink of the marble hitting the glass amplified louder in the abandoned auditorium. A few other shishitoren members are loitering, but only you and Sakura are sitting up on the edge of the stage. After the embarrassment of not knowing how to open the ramune Togame had given him, he sought you out to explain it to him. Sakura didn't think he could stomach it if he went back to Togame again for help. He follows your movement, his fingers removing the thin seal. Popping the ring off the marble pusher, and with his thumb, pushes on the marble. His thumb slips a few times, but you're patient as you coax him to try again. With his third attempt, he feels the marble give, the rewarding sound of bubbles popping.

"Thanks..." Sakura mumbles, a faint blush on his cheeks as you cheer your ramune's together as you take a swig.

"No problem," you say nonchalantly, leaning your weight back on your arms. With the bottle held in your hand, you watch Sakura, who is intently staring at the drink on his own. The silence between you isn't exactly uncomfortable, but you can sense the slight embarrassment oozing off him. "Soooo... how's it taste?"

He gives a soft hum before taking a small sip, the fizzy liquid leaving a tingling sensation on his tongue. It's not as sweet as he thought it’d be. It's rather subtle for a soda. He takes a longer sip this time, the fizz tickling his nose and bubbles popping against his lip. Looking at you sidelong, he can see you already staring at him excitedly. You weren't kidding when you said you were a big fan of this.

"It's sweet, I guess," his voice soft as he shrugs. A few strands of his white hair fell in front of his face. His eyes glance up at you as you stare at him intently, waiting for him to continue. He awkwardly bites the inside of his cheek. It still feels weird having people who actually want to hear his opinion, even if it's as small as a drink. "A bit strange… The flavor is nice, but the fizz is new."

He takes another sip, careful with the angle he tilts the bottle lest the marble block the opening. He doesn't really understand the appeal of the marble. It's a nuisance. The fizz was the best part of the soda, but the clinking made it impossible to drink it quietly. Besides, he holds the ramune bottle out, how the hell do you even get it out? Does he need to throw it against a wall to break the bottle? He doesn't want to get broken glass everywhere since someone could accidentally step on it.

"Is the marble irritating you?" you ask, laughing quietly under your breath to not set Sakura off into another tomato-faced explosion.

"No!" he answers with a quick hiss, cheeks flushing. He can feel you stare at him as a smirk dances across your lips. He can already envision the teasing you’re concocting to make him react. He gives another soft huff, refusing to look at you, as he fidgets with the bottle. He doesn't want to ask you to help again. He already feels like a helpless idiot. Instead of commenting, you swing yourself upwards, planting your hand on your knee. The other hand, wrapped around the bottle, moves to your lips as you down the rest of your drink. The fizz of bubbles pops in the air while Sakura looks at you bewildered. Weren't you supposed to drink carbonated drinks slowly or you'll stomach hurt? Did you become immune or something from drinking so many?

"Come on, let's go. I still haven't finished my ramune 101 class," you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, winking over your shoulder which sends Sakura into another pink mess, as you slide off the stage.

"W- What do you mean we’re not done?" he stammers quickly, flustered as he scrambles up to follow you. He feels a bit dizzy from going from a sitting position to standing too quickly. He grips the bottle in his hand and takes a few quick steps to catch up to you as you stride to the doors leading outside the auditorium. You laugh again when he rushes to catch up. His quick reaction time betrays his small stature. It's kinda cute.

"It means I'm gonna teach you how to get the damn marble out, genius" you tease, shoving his shoulder as you reach the doors. Opening them, the two of you were met with the cool outside air. It's refreshing after being indoors for so long and the auditorium has gotten you both hot and stuffy. Hence the initial ramune drinks. You quickly take his hand, ignoring the screams, as you drag Sakura to the side of the building. "Togame! Are you sleeping still?"

"Huh?" a tired voice answers groggily from the other side of the wall. Togame is sitting on the ground next to the wall with his back against the auditorium. He has his legs stretched out, his head leaning back on the wall, rubbing his eyes to clear the ever-constant droop in his eyes. He looks as if he is napping before being rudely interrupted, "I was..."

"Oops. Hehe, sorry," you chuckle, hands raised up in a mock surrender although you don't particularly look apologetic. To be fair, Togame doesn't look upset either. Only gives you and Sakura a sleepy smile and nods as he raises his arm high to stretch. His green eyes drifted to the bottles of ramune in your hands with a curious tilt of the chin. In response, you beam at him, rattling the marble inside the glass bottle before handing it to him. "Please, if you could."

Togame snorts as he takes the bottle. There's a hint of playfulness in his tired eyes as he shakes the bottle a few times, letting the marble inside thump against the glass. It's funny watching the marble rattle around. It reminds him of a little toy marble maze he had as a child. He flicks his gaze to look at Sakura, who stands off to the side stiffly. The poor kid looks ready to bolt at any second when given an opening. His own half-finished bottle lays limply in his hand, the marble reflecting off the sun's light.

"You know you just have to twist the cap in the opposite direction right?" he says, wrapping his fingers around the blue lid and twisting the cap off. Turning the bottle over, he catches the marble from the opening into the palm of his hand. He extends his hand, sliding the marble into your waiting ones. "I know you're strong enough to do that."

"Yeah, but my hands get cramps and it's impossible to move it!"

"I don't think that's how that works...But if it really is too hard, you can keep coming to me."

Sakura stands by, feeling out of place as you go back and forth with Togame. Yet, he doesn't feel like an intruder this time, merely an observer. He looks down at his own bottle, hands moving to twist the cap off while making sure he doesn't spill the drink.

It's easy. It pops right off with barely any effort. Sakura has quite literally seen you throw a man double your size over your shoulder.

The marble reflects his face messily, but there's a shine of red glinting off the surface.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain. 

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful. 

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go." 

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly. 

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.” 

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly. 

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above. 

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination. 

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!" 

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood." 

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor. 

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in." 

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?" 

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel." 

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight. 

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago. 

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer. 

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week. 

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit. 

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind. 

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person. 

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago. 

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought. 

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted. 

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!" 

"Mhm." 

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh." 

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands. 

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?” 

“Yes, for food. They want options.” 

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?” 

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.” 

…

He loves it when you ride him. 

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices. 

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?" 

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open. 

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim. 

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand. 

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom. 

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know. 

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets. 

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally. 

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight. 

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag. 

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?" 

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?” 

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk. 

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day. 

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?” 

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.” 

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.” 

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!” 

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!” 

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you." 

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella. 

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat. 

But he was never just some guy to you. 

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement. 

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years? 

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be. 

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?” 

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.” 

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?" 

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove. 

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.  

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling. 

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce. 

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips. 

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval. 

"Is it good?" 

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time. 

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin. 

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. 

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse. 

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain. 

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention. 

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts. 

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind. 

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck. 

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in." 

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while." 

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt. 

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls. 

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time. 

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him. 

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much. 

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.” 

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.” 

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure. 

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you. 

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened. 

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed. 

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously. 

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.” 

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.” 

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate. 

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again. 

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers. 

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt. 

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white. 

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller. 

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?” 

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!” 

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there? 

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must. 

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits. 

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck. 

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine. 

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs. 

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes. 

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.” 

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.” 

“What? How am I supposed to do that?” 

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold. 

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway. 

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you. 

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal.  He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?” 

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?” 

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.” 

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything. 

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.” 

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes. 

“I’m not.” 

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.” 

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.” 

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.” 

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm. 

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined. 

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his. 

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him. 

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips. 

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate. 

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.” 

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.  

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole. 

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman. 

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly. 

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed. 

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste. 

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows. 

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel. 

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

[saphronethaleph]

Skydancer

“Well… darn,” Leia said, with feeling.

Apparently she’d picked entirely the wrong time to look in on the rebels in the Dennogra system. The Imperials had somehow got wind of the presence of the base, a sting operation had gone into play – while she was there, no less – and a Star Destroyer and an Interdictor were hanging overhead, TIE fighters flying cover over the base while stormtroopers closed in.

Her transport was already disabled, burned out by the first wave of fighters, and the local Rebel net had gone silent thirty seconds ago with the last report being that Base Orenth and Base Trill had both been neutralized.

Leia reached for her hold-out pistol.

She had a choice coming up, soon. She’d either be surrendering herself into Imperial custody, hoping for the means to make an escape attempt, or she’d be selling her life dearly.

And…

...she couldn’t see herself surrendering to Imperial custody. They knew she was a Rebel, now. Tarkin might be dead, but she had no reason to expect that any Imperial captors would be even as merciful as him.

Her fingers slid over the grip of the blaster as she moved from cover to cover, ears alert for any sign of the Stormtroopers closing the net, then paused as she spotted something.

There was an A-Wing fighter left in the hanger.

Leia frowned, trying to remember what she knew about the A-Wing.

It was… shielded, she knew that much, and it was fast and agile. And it didn’t rely on an Astromech droid to make hyperspace jumps.

That was it, then. That was how she could get out of this.

She just needed to handle enough fighters to get clear, and then the Interdictor – either escaping it by flying out of its range, or disabling it.

The A-Wing had concussion missile launchers, didn’t it? And the shields on an Imperial cruiser or destroyer were…

Leia thought about that a moment longer, checking in all directions, then made up her mind and ran for the fighter.

“Hey – stop!” a voice shouted, and Leia whirled. Without stopping, she snapped off two blasts, and one stormtrooper fell with a smoking hole in his breastplate.

The other ducked into cover, then returned fire, and Leia paused by the front leg of the A-Wing before firing twice more. That left her only two shots left in the small energy cell, but the shot did down the other stormtrooper, and she hurried up the ladder into the cockpit before sealing the canopy and hitting the self-start button.

The fighter’s computer flashed an unhappy pattern of lights at her, and Leia bared her teeth.

“Come on, you bucket of bolts,” she muttered, stabbing at a few controls, then the status screen came up. She flicked the repulsors online, then the shields, and a moment later a blaster bolt peened off the shield and into the corner of the hangar.

Blasters came up next, and Leia twisted the yoke. It was intuitive and responsive, a sign of good design, and she walked her fire across a whole squad of stormtroopers.

Then she keyed the main engines, and the whole hangar behind her was fried as the powerful engines boosted her upwards.

Two patrolling TIEs immediately began closing in on her, the sensor screen pinging a warning, and Leia muttered a curse.

She wasn’t a pilot… but this was a very fast and very agile fighter.

And it wasn’t like anyone else was showing up to save her skin.

A twitch of the yoke, and she snap-rolled ninety degrees to starboard before spinning halfway around. The twin cannon spat fire, blowing one TIE to pieces and clipping the wing of the other, and the second one wobbled in an uncontrollable roll before managing to get some control of itself and come back around.

Another element of two TIEs was vectoring in, and Leia finished her spin before diving towards the ground. There were Imperial ground elements down there, still visible, and if the fighters were going to shoot at her she could at least decoy them to try and hit the ground forces – then a large Imperial walker was looming up before her, and Leia adjusted her angle a little to aim between the front and back legs.

Pulling back out again as soon as she shot between them, Leia glanced around to get a good handle on the situation, then yanked the yoke back and switched from engines to repulsors. That meant the big engines weren’t pushing her forwards any more, letting her make a tight turn, and she pulled the trigger twice about when she’d be lined up with the pursuing fighters.

Three more explosions lit the sky, followed by drifting clouds of smoke as bits of TIE fighter rained down, then Leia switched back to main engines and turned towards her next targets.

Even a novice like her could tell that she didn’t want to be surrounded by enemy fighters. So the only way out of this was going to be to make sure they didn’t – or couldn’t.

“We feared we’d lost you, Princess,” General Rieekan said, as Leia clambered down the side of the A-Wing she’d appropriated. “When we heard about the attack on the Dennogra base, we feared the worst.”

“I was all right,” Leia replied. “Fortunately I had an A-Wing.”

“You’re not wrong,” Wedge agreed, inspecting it. “That’s definitely an A-Wing.”

He frowned. “What actually happened, Princess? The report was that there was an Interdictor overhead… was that incorrect?”

“No, there was,” Leia agreed. “Along with a Star Destroyer. Like I said, I had an A-Wing. Whoever designed that fighter is a real expert, it can be flown as well as you please by even a novice.”

Wedge, Carlist Rieekan, and everyone else present not named Leia Organa exchanged confused looks.

“...no, it can’t,” Wedge said, slowly. “It’s a good bird, a bit lighter than I prefer, but it’s extremely temperamental… who else was flying with you? Did anyone else get out?”

“All the other fighters were taken out on the ground by the initial bombardment and fighter strike,” Leia replied. “The one I used happened to be deeper into the hanger and it survived.”

“You escaped by yourself?” Rieekan asked. “Princess, I’m… sorry for my tone of voice, but that’s impossible. Or it shouldn’t be possible. Those two capital ships carry nearly a hundred TIEs between them, and while some of those squadrons are bombers or boarding elements that’s still-”

He broke off, because Leia was counting under her breath.

“...that sounds about right,” she said. “Well, I counted about sixty, anyway, and maybe a dozen bombers.”

“I think we need to check the gun camera footage,” Wedge decided. “I want to see this.”

About an hour later, Leia was in the middle of catching up on important messages when Rieekan came into the meeting room she was using.

So did Wedge, and most of the other pilots on the cruiser.

“We’re not worthy,” Derek Klivian declared. “We’re not worthy! We’re not worthy!”

“Hobbie,” Wedge said, shaking his head. “Are you ever going to stop that?”

“Nope, sir!” Klivian replied.

“He’s got a point,” Rieekan said. “Princess, we’ve reviewed the gun camera footage. And then taken some anti-nausea medication.”

“Is there something wrong?” Leia asked.

“Well, you’re one of the best pilots in history,” Wedge replied. “None of my best pilots could do that. I’d have said even Luke couldn’t do that, but then Hobbie told a joke and we decided to actually do it.”

“Princess,” Rieekan went on. “I regret to inform you that a genetic test has revealed that you’re Luke Skywalker’s sister. We think you’re both the children of Anakin Skywalker, who went down in galactic history as the single most capable natural pilot ever recorded.”

“...though you might just earn the top spot, now,” Tycho added. “Seriously, that was at least fourteen consecutive chakra manoeuvres and you shot down at least two fighters per chakra manoeuvre. And I never knew the A-Wing could do half of the other things you made it do.”

Leia was still wrapping her head around Luke Skywalker’s sister.

“Ever considered being a pilot?” Wedge added. “I’d say we can give you lessons but that might not even be necessary…”

[heevanly]

LATE NIGHT TALKS : LEE HEESEUNG (이희승)

𝐬yn. : being the host of a college late night radio talk show was a passion project since freshman year of college, but now as a senior, y/n hadn't expected the fame it brought to herself on campus... but maybe it was the recent string of murders that caused more tuning in than ever seen before.

𝐰arnings. / 𝐭ags. : (18+!). small series. gore. horror. college au. similar to a murder mystery au. swearing. mentions of wanting to vomit (no vomiting occurs). humor. mildly suggestive. no smut. main character death. side character death. heeseung and jay are manipulators. jay and heeseung have a small argument. enha members as main / side characters. lsf members as side characters. ive members as side characters. pet names used mockingly (baby, sweetheart, honey). more to be added as parts come out.

𝐧ote. : warnings are just overall, not everything mentioned is in this part in particular (like 98% is tho). also welcome to my first fully published work, i hope you guys like it. everything is also in lowercase, not sure why but that's just how things ended up happening haha.

𝐭aglist. : @livsateez @velvethana @ilyjxdz

© @heevanly 2024 | do NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, or steal my works.

WC : 6.7k

Part Two. (TBD)

walking towards the music building on your campus was always the worst trek for you. it was the furthest building from your on-campus apartment and it was a combination of uphill walking, stairs, and loose gravel sidewalk that for some reason the school had yet to get fixed. you kick a loose rock and grumble incoherently, watching the rock hit the bottom stair leading up to the building. letting out a sigh you begin walking up the last of the stairs that leads towards the building. 

the night was serene at least, a bit chilly but it was still early spring, you’re just glad the hoodie you’re currently wearing is enough to block out the wind blowing past every so often. with the last bit of sunlight fading behind the horizon, you scan your fob into the building’s sensor, unlocking the doors.

a small noise crunches somewhere from behind you and your head immediately turns in the direction of the sound yet nothing is there. eyebrows furrowing, you rescan the fob and head inside the building shaking your head, “i hate walking at night, curse heeseung and his off-campus apartment, if only he’d pick me up.”

you head into the hallway that holds the elevators that lead into the basement. it’s never been the most ideal location to record, but it offered a few rooms that had equipment and space you needed to borrow.

after the trip down from the elevator you walk into the room the four of you have continuously used for the radio show. setting your bag down you start cleaning up the space, trashing old papers left behind, wiping the tables, doing simple tests on the mics to just make sure they work, overall just getting the place ready. you leave jay and jake's stuff mainly untouched, as they have their own way of setting up the lights, mic sensitivities, and what all else.

the door opens up behind you as you continue to do tasks around the rooms, not bothering to look at the door, you glance at the clock instead, “hey guys, you’re a bit earlier than when you normally get here.. we still got an hour.. but since you’re here could you,” your voice quiets down as you turn to address whoever was behind you directly, however no one is in the room.

“what the hell,” you mutter out scratching your head, “i swear i heard the door open.”

you quickly scan the room you’re in, checking under the table to see if one of the four decided to fool around a bit. seeing no one under there you move to the other room where jay and jake usually stay in, but no one is seen there either. a sense of unease begins to grow in your stomach but you decide to keep yourself busy by finishing up tasks in the room. printing out the schedule and loose script for the recording, you skim through, making sure you didn’t leave anything out and once satisfied you set the schedules and script in heeseung’s and your spot.

the clock reads 9:27 pm and you sit down on the couch, getting comfortable, getting ready for the other three to walk in at any moment. your phone rings and seeing jake’s contact pop up, you answer.

“hey jake, what’s up, did something happen?”

jake clears his throat on the other side, “y/n! glad you answered, couldn’t get a hold of heeseung, but i told jay already- wait is he there yet?”

“er, no.. well at least i don’t think so.” you scan the room once before playing with the charms on your nails.

“what..?” jake asks, confusion in his tone, “you don’t think so? y/nnie i hate to break it to ya but i think you’d know if someone was in the room with you.”

you let out a puff of air out through your noise in fake annoyance, “yes i’m well aware of that jake sim. but i heard the door open up behind me a little bit ago and i figured it was one of you guys stopping in a little early but no one was there so..”

“well.. i’m sure it’s just your pretty little mind playin tricks then, anyways jay should be there soon though, he left the flat a bit ago- oh right! since he isn’t there i guess i should tell you. i can’t make it tonight, forgot i overscheduled myself with my plans so i have somewhere else i need to be tonight.”

“what? jake why didn’t you say anything earlier today? i mean it’s fine, i got the room mainly all ready anyway but a warning other than being like five minutes before you get here would’ve been nice.” you click your tongue in annoyance to further drive the point in. frankly, you didn’t mind that much but teasing jake a little bit was something you couldn’t pass up.

you hear jake give a dejected sigh and stifle a laugh, “ok listen i know i know, i’ll make it up to you i promise but just this night i can’t make it alright?”

“yeah yeah, you have fun with your plans or whatever.”

jake chuckles, “oh i will, see ya y/n.”

the call ends just as jay walks in, he gives you a little wave and sets his stuff by yours, “here like always, before everyone else is.”

you drum your nails along the couch’s arm rest as you watch jay get situated in the room, “someone has to get everything ready, and it sure ain’t gonna be jake with the way he bailed on us tonight. and we’re lucky if heeseung shows up 10 minutes before we go on air.”

jay lets put a small laugh, “he told you he’d be gone? thought i was gonna have to be the one to tell you.”

“nah he told me, think he’s trying to get a hold of hee right now too.”

“eugh, good luck to him then.”

you raise your eyebrows in understanding, “yeah.. anyhow i printed out the schedules and cleaned everything up so..”

jay sits in his seat and turns to you, “you emailed me my schedule right?”

“yup, did it before i left my apartment.”

“perfect, alright you go get set up and i’ll test your mic and make sure feedback is clear.” upon hearing jay’s words you get up from the couch and move to sit down in your chair, jay gives you a thumbs up and you test your microphone, “test test test.”

jay fiddles around with a few notches and motions with his hand to try once again, “test test test.” you repeat into the microphone, which you receive a thumbs up and lean in your seat. all thats left was to wait for heeseung.

a few minutes later and he walks in, dragging his bag behind him, “woah dude you look like shit.” jay says, looking heeseung up and down.

“this assignment for prof kim is killing me,” heeseung groans out, exasperated, “i swear she wants me dead.”

your jaw drops slightly at the look of heeseung, “have you slept recently?”

heeseung drops his bag with everyone else’s, “just did, i was supposed to work on the assignment, fell asleep, woke up and sprinted over here.”

his hair was all tousled up and his shirt was slightly stained but his jacket managed to cover most of it up and his pants looked as if in some places dust or dirt got smeared onto it.

jay does one more look at heeseung before turning around in his seat, “alright well man, go get situated next, we’ll test your mic.”

heeseung simply nods before walking to his seat next, once jay gives him the go ahead he speaks up in the microphone, “test test.” jay gives the thumbs up to heeseung and you look up at the clock, 9:58 pm, almost time to go live.

you turn to heeseung, “you sure you’re alright? if you’re that tired i can handle doing a night alone.”

hee gives you a small smile, “promise im all good, that nap was like.. one of those ones where you wake up not knowing who you are or where you are kind, so i’m like.. oddly rejuvenated right now. think i could even fight off a werewolf and win.”

blinking once and then twice you look at him and slowly nod your head, “oohhhhhh kay mister tough guy.. whatever you say..”

“you not believing me is not very kind you know.” heeseung frowns, his lips forming a pout.

“i know, oh-! we’re going live.. 3.. 2..”

"welcome welcome welcome toooo SCU 101.85, you’re currently tuning in to the 10 o’clock pm talk show. i’m your host y/n and i’m here with my co-host..” you turn away from the microphone and glance at your co-host, lee heeseung.

“heeseung.” he speaks up into his microphone, shuffling a few of the papers around.

“and it’s currently a friday night, it’s 67 degrees out with a small breeze too so make sure you wear that jacket!” you chirp.

heeseung snorts and you pass him a look which he returns with a shrug, “you just sound chipper.. s’all.”

“ah.. well our ratings have been going up again.. it’s better than we’ve been seeing these past four months.. so.”

the past four months have been rather difficult for you and heeseung and the radio show. when you started this project sophomore year, it had just been you and your roommate kim chaewon, your ratings were steady in the beginning but had started declining after two months, which made your at the time co-host and roommate, quit. you don’t blame her, you nearly stopped too, which was before heeseung hit you up asking if you still needed another co-host.

accepting his help was the best thing you had done, his roommates jake and jay were all about the technical jargon behind running a radio show, which the reasoning was apparently the three had thoughts about starting a podcast but couldn’t get the timing right to actually get it started, so here they were willing to help you out.

production took off and the four of you found yourselves seeing steady viewers and got to even open a talk line, which was a segment that both you and heeseung took seriously, finding fun in chatting with anonymous students with various complaints they had of others, professors, relationships, or whatever else going on in their lives.

then, out of nowhere four months ago, the viewers started thinning out, causing your small team of four’s good feelings to falter. having been used to success it was shocking to be randomly met with a hard wall and seemingly, no way of getting out.

heeseung and your’s efforts were all in vain as you tried advertising the radio talk show, you had chaewon talk to her friends about spreading the show, heeseung talked to about it to his other friends and also had them spread the word. jake would mention it at his part time job, and jay even mentioned it at a small on-campus event, which he texted that he was never doing again out of sheer embarrassment.

heeseung hums, “well.. i could imagine people have been feeling a bit safer because of us, due to…” he trails off.

right, there's been a few recent deaths that have plagued not only your campus, but the town. you claim they’re very obviously murders while heeseung’s been claiming it’s been various unfortunate accidents. so far the death toll has hit only four, two on campus, one at a campus nearby, and one on the outskirts of town.

“the murders.” you finish his sentence off, gravelly.

heeseung rolls his eyes, but remembers that the listeners can’t actually see that, “you’re so obsessed with these being murders,” he teases.

“well.. it’s quite obvious, no?” you ask, tilting your head a little bit.

“ehh, i wouldn’t really say so, besides the two on campus cause they were ruled as a murder-suicide. regardless that was two months ago and the one at KTU was concluded to be an unfortunate accident.. shit what did they say about how she died again?” heeseung racks his brain, trying to remember how the girl from KTU died two weeks ago.

you scatter your papers around, “wasn’t it something about a lab issue..? their school got to close down because of it, that’s.. uh.. kind of all i remember about that.”

“oh you’re going to hell, haven’t you been following this whole thing since the murder-suicide on campus..?” heeseung laughs loudly and you slump in your chair, embarrassment flooding your system.

you sit back up and clear your throat, “in my defense..”

heeseung accusing points at you, “you! don’t have one.”

“pause, yes i do! rude…. my defense is that the fourth one’s been throwing me off with this whole thing, that i focused a little less on the third girl.” you huff out.

the fourth death was the weirdest in the whole thing so far, it happened a few days ago and it’s been the only one where the person involved wasn’t in the same age range and died supposedly.. well.. naturalistically. it had been a middle aged man, who was on his way home from work. apparently the report and the news claimed his tire gotten flat and when he had gotten out to check on it, he had been mauled by a pack of wolves wandering through. 

the police and how they concluded it just didn’t make sense to you, you stayed up for two days trying to determine it all. first, wolves hadn’t been sighted in that area for several months so a random pack coming through didn’t make sense. second, the blood inside the car, how did it even manage to get in there if the man was supposedly outside? the third rea-

heeseung snaps his fingers to try and get your attention back to the talk show, “hey, y/n, quit thinking about it, you’re just gonna make yourself paranoid.. or worse.. really obsessive over this.”

you sigh, biting at your lip as you mull over his words, “my bad, i just need to stay up on all this, our viewers need the information, they deserve the best after all.”

“and the best of the best is from two college seniors..?” heeseung raises an eyebrow.

“absolutely!” you respond, “we’re the only ones giving multiple sides to these events and ways to stay safe.”

“i’m sure the news have been doin all that too though.”

“pff, news schmooze,” you wave your hand at heeseung, “college students don’t care about tuning into the morning news before classes or turning the evening news on, we’re a source of entertainment AND murder mystery, and that’s what eats up.” 

“you’re greedy, y/n, soo greedy.” heeseung shoots a grin your way, a way to let you know he doesn’t mean it.

trying to stop a grin from making its way on your face, you roll your eyes, “oh suck my dick lee heeseung.” 

“gladlyyy..” he sings out, wiggling his eyebrows and chuckles into his microphone.

“you’re a freak..” you gather your papers back up and glance up at the clock, 10:26 pm, time to open up the first talk line segment of the night.

you give a small nod towards heeseung and he nods back and clears his throat, “well well well SCU you are listening on 101.85 and it’s rolling up to 10:30 pm, we got a two minute sponsor for y’all and when we come back live, our callers will be up discussin’ random whatever with us. give us a call at +82 70-5208-6001 and see if you’re lucky enough. again that is +82 70-5208-6001. see you soon.”

both you and heeseung give a thumbs up to the room in front of you and jay switches your sets off, rolling the sponsor. a few seconds pass and before you’re able to turn to heeseung to just casually chat, the switchboard for the phone calls light up, more so than you’ve ever seen before.

turning to heeseung you give him a look of wonder, his eyebrows are furrowed as if hes wondering the same thing you are, why are there so many callers tonight? jay clicks off the sponsor and puts on a jazzy song before stepping into the room, “what’s up with the callers tonight?”

heeseung looks up at jay, “not sure bro, we’re just as confused as you are. we haven’t seen anything like this before.”

the calls keep coming through, lighting up the board until nearly all have popped up, indicating that people are on the line waiting to chat.

jay takes a glance at his set up and back at the two of you and the board, “well you guys got about a minute before we go on air, can’t keep them waiting for too long so just…” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “just… i suppose keep their talking segments shorter..? man i wish jake was here right now he could help weed through the callers with me on my end.”

heeseung raises an eyebrow at jay, “he’s not here today at all? i thought he was just late?”

“nah, up and bailed last second, said somethin’ about a date but i think he’s lying.” jay rolls his eyes, “30 seconds, you’re both up soon.”

jay closes the door and you look over at heeseung, frowning “why the hell did he schedule a date during the same time he’s supposed to be here? he told me it was important, not that a date isn’t but i was thinking something with his parents or.. i don’t know..”

heeseung mulls it over for a few seconds, “i mean unless he was planning on bringin her home..”

“dude.”

“it’s jake we’re talking about, y/n.”

“okay, yeah you’re right, well you wanna go first with the calls then..?”

heeseung nods, the on air button lights up and he clicks on a random caller, “hey lucky number one, congratulations you’re on air with us on STU 101.85, what’s your name?”

“hey guys it’s yunjin!” yunjin’s voice is heard through the speaker.

you sit up in your seat a little bit, “oh my god, hey girl! thanks for calling, how you been tonight?” 

“same old same old, prof jeon is an asshole still and said my submitted designs lacks the ‘creative theme’ of what he asked for. the problem is, is that he gave us no theme, aside from it being wearable. so i based it off of 1960’s greek spring chic wear and now he’s denied my third design.”

heeseung nods his head, “we’ve heard from other fashion design majors that prof jeon is the worst, i guess this goes to show to any sophomores and juniors to not finish your semesters as a senior with prof jeon.”

yunjin scoffs, “you could say that again, i wish i took prof song’s class, apparently shes at least nicer with going about denying designs.”

“isn’t she tough to impress though..? i hear her students always come back with lower scores than those who take prof jeon?” you ask, “wouldn’t that be.. worse?”

“oh you’re right.. ugh just don’t be a fashion design major, worst choice ever.”

heeseung lets out a laugh, “alright well we’re gonna let you go and head to the next caller, good luck on the rest of your assignment.”

a hum is heard through the speaker, “yeah i should really get to finish on working with the fourth design, you guys have fun, i’ll still be tuned in too.”

the line clicks and heeseung switches to another caller, “and listeners that was miss yunjin, another senior here at STU, you may have seen her around workin tirelessly at the sewing machines in the fashion department, so send some luck her way for dealing with prof jeon. now we got our next caller with us, you’re on air!”

silence fills the studio and jay looks at you two through the window, mouthing a “the fuck?” and you two shrug, confusion on the both of your faces.

“uh.. dude? you there?” heeseung looks annoyed as he shuffles around in his seat.

more silence fills the room and now you can also feel annoyance creep into your body, “hey, listen if you’re not gonna talk we’ll move on. not sure if you stepped away from your phone at all or what kind of prank you’re trying to pull but you can cut it out, it’s not funny and it just holds us and everyone else up.”

“..01101000,” a gravelly, raw voice crackles through.

heeseung sits up, “okay i’m changing the caller, you’re a weirdo and can get off our line.”

 the voice continues, “..01100101.. 01101100–”

heeseung cuts the line, cutting the voice off too.

“freak.” you mutter, “what the hell was that?”

heeseung shrugs, “sounded like binary code, probably someone from comp sci deciding to pull a prank on us.”

“well they’re not funny, that was weird and kind of scary.” a shiver runs down your spine as you think about the voice that crackled through, whoever it was managed to perfectly replicate fear in their voice.

“oh don’t worry, i can protect you.” heeseung winks at you.

“i think my chances of survival lay better with jay, hee.” you look down to choose the next caller as heeseung makes a noise of offense, taking your words to heart.

“he would not-”

you connect to the caller, “and you’re the third caller of the night, thank you for spending your night here with us at STU 101.85, may we get your name?”

“uh, yeah hi it’s yang jungwon.. i’m a sports medicine major.”

your eyes lit up in recognition at the name and voice, “oh yeah! you’re on the journalism club right? i’ve seen you there frequently.”

“yeah, thanks for helping us out, y/n. uhm, you know i wasn’t positive that i’d get picked so i guess i’m unsure of how to say this.”

heeseung leans closer to his mic, “what do you mean, jungwon?”

“uh, well it’s just, that last caller and then the mysterious figure on campus is what i wanted to talk to you about."

that made you sit up straighter in your seat and from your glance at heeseung, his interest piqued as well.

“go ahead jungwon, we’re interested and i’m sure all the other listeners are too.” you give the green light for jungwon to essentially take over the whole talking segment.

jungwon takes a deep breath and you can hear some shuffling in the background as he gets ready to speak,“okay well, i’ve been staying late on campus for the last week because i work on the sports section of the campus news website right? and i’m not sure what’s been going on but i’ve noticed this shrouded figure walking late at night. they seem to be following any student late at night leaving the stem building.”

you look up at jay and then over to heeseung, the both of them listening to jungwon’s words intently you look back down at the board as jungwon continues, “i think it’s cause they often stay behind the latest right? i’m not sure, i felt it was better to be here and say it as a warning, in case the man was dangerous.”

heeseung speaks up, “you’re saying something now? didn’t you say it’s been the past week?”

jungwon is silent for a few seconds before breathing out, “okay yeah i figured someone would ask that, honestly i thought it was a prank at first, especially because it was a costume the person was wearing.”

“costume?” you ask, “what sort’ve costume?”

“it was that ghostface costume, you know like the scream movies one?”

“ghostface?” heeseung asks, skepticism in his tone, “you saw a dude in a ghostface costume? in spring?”

jungwon clicks his tongue, “that’s why i didn’t say anything, because it just sounds stupid. i really thought it was just a prank someone was pullin on a friend.”

you nervously pick at your nails as you think about jungwon’s words, “you’re saying something now though aren’t you? what made you change your mind?”

jungwon hesitates before saying anything, “the call.”

you raise an eyebrow, “what’s the call got anything to do with the ghostface random?”

“i.. got a weird call yesterday night, it was the same voice that just called you guys. honestly if i wasn’t seeing the costume dude on campus i wouldn’t have thought much of it or if i wasn’t tuned into the radio show tonight.” 

“why don’t you go to the police or campus security? dude like campus security should and would kick the guy off campus, even if what he’s doing is harmless, he’s being creepy.” heeseung sighs out and rubs his forehead a little.

“i did, they think i’m sleep deprived and seein shit, apparently they can’t find ‘any evidence’ that supports that someone's walking around being weird so they think i just need more sleep.”

“what about that phone call? isn’t it logged?” you’re honestly a bit worried for jungwon, something weird is happening, the murders, the calls, and the shrouded costume ghostface guy.

jungwon speaks a bit faster, trying to get all the information he can into the hands of however many people are listening, “thought it was, i re-called the number two days ago and it just immediately disconnects, then the number was gone from my phone yesterday. poof up and deleted from my call log.”

“oh what the hell..” you breathe out, heeseung looks pale as he listens to jungwon’s words.

“dude.. does that not remind you of the damn scream movies? like at least in some way?” heeseung shakingly asks, “it literally sounds like you’re being hunted jungwon.”

a clang is heard and a quiet “fuck” before some shuffling, “sorry dropped my phone, you kinda freaked me there with that heeseung.” jungwon lets out a sardonic laugh.

you turn to heeseung and lightly smack his arm, “no for real, why would you say some shit like that.”

heeseung splutters, “well.. like does it not? i don’t want to sound grave or mean about this right now but genuinely this shit sounds like jungwon is in danger.”

“not helping, dude.” jungwon speaks into his phone, voice low.

“no he’s got a point jungwon. with what hee’s talking about, you could really be in some serious danger. i mean a famous point of scream was the calls to the victims and if you’re really seeing someone run around in the ghostface costume..” you trail off unable to voice the rest of your concerns aloud.

“well thanks for helping me out you two,” the sarcasm in jungwon’s voice is clear and you flinch out of guilt. you didn’t mean to freak jungwon out a bit more, he really wanted to just warn people on campus who were out late. “regardless thanks for warning everyone on this, listeners tell your friends or if you know of any late night students, tell them they should be careful on campus now if they’re out late, just in case. jungwon this goes for you too you know?”

“yeah i know, i’m already off campus now so i should be fine.”

heeseung picks at his jacket’s sleeves, “still man, sounds like you gotta keep yourself safe anywhere.”

“i will, thanks for letting me stay for a while longer than you normally let your callers on.” from the background noise going on in jungwon’s call it sounds like someone coming in through his door, “i’ll go ahead and get going now, my roommate brought food and we’re gonna eat, thanks for having me guys!”

jungwon ends the call and you glance up at the clock which reads 11:07 pm, “alright we have time for one more caller, normally we’d have ended this by 11:00pm and done another segment at 11:30pm as you are all aware but i guess we’ll just have one long talk segment today. heeseung you wanna do the honors for the last lucky caller.”

heeseung nods and clicks on the next caller, “lucky number four, you are live with us at STU 101.85, you get to be the last call of the night with us, anything on your mind that you’d like to chat with us about?” heeseung and you are met with heavy breathing into the phone’s microphone. 

“hello..?” you call out tentatively and heeseung groans out beside you, “alright i’m really getting sick of the people who decide to prank us.”

the breathing stops abruptly at heeseung’s words and your breath hitches in the back of the throat. you’re unsure as to why the caller made you nervous, heeseung is right, prank calls have been weirdly often tonight, this was the second one of the night after all. heeseung’s hands reach to change the caller and that’s when a weird low static sounding voice filters through, “don’t hang me up, lee heeseung.”

heeseung stops his movement’s mid way and your head whips into his direction quickly, the voice continues, “why don’t you put your hand back down. we’re going to chat.” heeseung quickly obliges and fear has overtaken everyone in the room, jay from where he is, is even frozen from the voice.

“much better. thank you for having me on your lovely radio show. you know, i’m not exactly the happiest at having been the last caller, but i suppose only the best are chosen as the final right?” the voice takes a shaky breath before continuing, “y/n,” you freeze as your name comes out, “don’t you think being the final one is best too..?”

you don’t answer, unsure if that’s the best course of action, you just can’t bring yourself to say any words at this moment, but the mysterious caller decides he’ll make you answer, “answer me y/n. you get to choose the fate of someone very important tonight after all.”

your blood runs cold at his words, eyes shaking and tears even start to brim, you stutter out, “what.. what do you mean?”

“i’m so glad you asked honey, let’s bring out my special guest out.” the sounds of a muffled cry and cloth are heard before jake’s voice faint and hoarse comes out of the phone, “let us go man, just please let us go.”

you gasp loudly, heeseung slams his fist down at the table, and jay upon hearing jake’s voice runs into the room, a look you’ve never seen before on his face, either of their faces. jay looks like he may faint yet angry while heeseung looks as if he’s never experienced anger in the way he’s had before.

“i’m sure you know now who is with me.” the voice chuckles and you can hear some crying from a girl as well in the background, “i managed to get a two for one deal tonight for you all.”

“the fuck do you want with us?” heeseung grits out and the caller laughs.

“it’s not so what i want with your group, it’s what i want done with you, lee heeseung.”

heeseung’s bravado falters slightly, “what are you talking about? what could i offer you?”

“i wanna know why.. scratch that i think.. everyone here tonight deserves to know why actually, about the things you’ve done for your beloved radio show.”

you slowly turn your head to heeseung and he’s pale, hands slightly shaking, “hee? what is this guy talking about?”

heeseung looks up at you, pupils blown wide in fear and you feel your heart break at how scared he is, you know you’re not much better either, “i.. i don’t know, this doesn’t make any sense, i.. there’s.. i don’t know.” he’s panicking and you reach over to grab his hand to calm him down some. his hands are clammy but given the situation you understand, you squeeze and he squeezes back.

the voice scoffs, “oh please, get that fake shit out of my face. heeseung knows what he did sweetheart and if i were you i would think twice about holding his hands when all they know are acts of violence.”

jay speaks up before you have the choice to ask what they meant, “i’m calling the police, sick freak.”

“ah ah ah..” the caller tuts out, “if any of you three call the police, your beloved pal jake is getting gutted. i’ll even string out his body parts so prettily for you. send some lovely pictures, y/n you’d appreciate my art for you? right?”

you frankly feel like throwing up and you shake your head frantically, “no.. no..”

the caller lets out a cackle and speaks in a mocking tone, “aww… poor thing is so scared, heeseung why don’t you comfort your poor girl, after all you’ve done sooooo much for her.”

“fuck. off.” heeseung snarls out, hand not holding yours gripping the table and the strength behind it shocks you.

“no fun, either of you, jay’s always been a bit boring anyways, wanting the police involved in our fun so early. however i’m aware we are live.. so i guess we should speed things up. besides jake here i have someone important to jay here. say hello to jay.”

the sobbing girl is heard more clearly and the pit in your stomach is ever growing, the feeling of vomiting coming back tenfold, “why.. why are you doing this.. please i never did anything to you, please please please, let me go i won’t say anything. please j-”

a loud bang and a shriek is heard and jakes voice is screaming, “stop! stop just let her go, man. what is wrong with you?!”

some more shuffling and the caller is heard better, “what’s wrong with me? me..? you were the one who brought your dear friend’s ex out on a date.”

jay slams his hands on the table, leaning forward, “my EX? you were out with fucking yujin?”

more sobs from yujin, you suppose, comes through the phone, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i wanted to make you jealous. i wanted you back, that was it i’m sorry i’m so sorry.”

rubbing his jaw, jay paces around the room, shouting out a “fuck” and slamming his fist against the wall, “jay! this isn’t the time! this asshole WANTS us to act like this, you’re playing into his hands!” heeseung calls out, standing up quickly, “he WANTS you to get angry, he’s enjoying this.”

“yeah?” jay spins around and lets out a shaky laugh, “really? and how do you know that heeseung? you know this guy or something? i wouldn’t be surprised considering you’ve got some fucking secrets of your own now.” jay jabs at heeseung’s chest and he stumbles back in surprise.

you put your head in your hands and yell, “stop! just stop you two! a sadistic killer has jake and yujin and you’re fighting?! what the fuck. just what the fuck?!”

“yeahh.. you two, what the fuck..?” the voice giggles, “you should be more like y/n and focus on the two that’s with me. maybe you can make y/n’s job easier and help her with her choice.”

your whip your head up, tears streaming down your face, “what the hell do you mean help you, you sick fuck?!”

“that’s not very kind now baby… and i mean helping me choose who i kill for everyone tonight of course.”

oh. oh no. no no no no no. absolutely not, you would not choose that, there’s no way you could bring yourself to do that. you shakingly look at the board and whimper out a “no” which the caller barks out a laugh in return, “i’m afraid it’s non negotiable. if you don’t.. i choose at random then and the other person lives with the information that they were saved because of me! or… i just kill both.”

the two men in the room with you freeze at the information they’re hearing, heeseung slowly walks to you, pushes your mic away and crouches down to your level, putting his hands around your body to help the tremors going through your body, he rubs your back soothingly and jay’s jaw clenches as he angrily blows air out of his nose.

heeseung lowly whispers into your ear, “it’s okay y/n.. you.. you gotta do it.. you can do this.. make the choice.. it’s easy right..? you don’t know yujin.. jake needs to be saved y/nnie. jay will understand.. yujin cheated on him anyways.”

you’re not sure why heeseung is calmly telling you this information, you’re not sure why jay won’t look at you directly, you’re not sure why it has to be you that makes this choice, but as heeseung whispers more into your ear about how you can do it and he believes you’d make the right choice you start thinking that doesn’t matter and heeseung’s right. jake needs to be saved. jake is your friend. you don’t know yujin. yujin was a bad girlfriend to jay. you don’t question heeseung’s whispers, you don’t question heeseung at all.

“jake..” you quietly mutter out.

“what was that? i couldn’t hear you..?” the killer sings out and you almost throw up for what feels like the thirteenth time that night.

“jake..!” you speak up a little louder and heeseung squeezes your body comfortingly, “i choose to save jake.”

yujin screams in anguish and you flinch in guilt. “excellent choice, y/n. saving your friends.. how heroic.” the killer praises and you put your head in the crook of heeseung’s neck, wishing this nightmare would just end, he just rubs your back, but you miss the grin he sends jay’s way.

the phone is set down and you can hear yujin plead for her life with the killer, “i just did what you wanted! you said.. you said j- no no stop don’t come any closer i swear i swear no one will know. let me go please. please. i’m sorry,” she cries louder and starts pleading to you all, “jay please.. convince her to save me. jay please we can be happy again. no. no. no! NO! JA–”

the wet sounds of a knife meeting flesh is loud, yujin’s cries become louder and you breakingly sob into heeseung’s shoulder, he grips your body stronger and continues to rub your back. the squelch noise of multiple stabs into yujins poor body ring in your ears. her choked back sobs and cries as her throat fills with her blood causes your sobs to bellow out even louder, heeseung whispers that everything’ll be alright, his constant whispering so soothing you try to focus on them instead of yujin’s dying noises.

it feels like an eternity later but the noises quiet down and all that’s left is silence in the room and the killer’s heavy breathing. “thank you, for allowing me the opportunity to give you and your listeners a show.”

more silence fills the room and you can hear jay’s footsteps in the background pacing once more but you don’t dare look up, an irrational fear that the killer is in the room with you playing in your mind.

heeseung’s eyes darken as he looks down at your shaking body, the small whimpers you let out ignites a fire in his body that he’s only ever gotten killing others and he has stop the smile from forming on his face as he thinks how quick you were to just trust him. his eyes flicker towards jay as he turns off the equipment in the radio show, jay nods once everything is off and they’re no longer live.

the voice speaks up once more and your body stills, having believed the killer dropped the call, “you’re always so sweet y/nnie. so so so kind. the best player for our games. sweet dreams.”

you slowly lift your head in confusion but a small pinch to your neck makes your head drop back down, your eyes blearing together as the only thing you can make out is heeseung’s necklace and white shirt, the feeling of his steady breathing and whatever just stung you luring you into the dark and away from the sick and twisted situation.

[tiredfoxtf]

Hello, I had a spontaneous stupid idea and did this.

What if. Hear me out. A Life Series season where there's only overworld, but it's all hazardous custom biomes. (i know it would be a pain to code, but LISTEN)

Heavily inspired by Pale Garden and Deep Dark we have here all dangerous in it's own way biomes in the style of "pick your poison!".

The desert will make you want to drink, and you will have to watch your sun exposure to not get fatigued and watch out for them quicksands. The snowy taiga will make you want to huddle for warmth near a fire and will deplete your hunger faster. The sea and beach are in the constant storms with a strong wind that will blow you in every direction unless you move, hide or holding crouch, also beware of the lightning! The swamp's water is poisonous and the weather's forecast is fog for foreseeable future. Forests are full of tall trees and different poisonous plants and thorns, the mobs spawn more and will never burn and it's kinda dark here. Nether corruption biome is a weird collection of some Nether biomes in one and also it has blazes. Pale Garden stays the same. All caves are now covered in skulk, sensors and shriekers, making any caving experience an intrusion.

If you complete a unique achievement attached to the biome, you will get something really cool.

But the real game changer would be a role mechanic. Yeah, you heard me, the boogieman is back. But not just the boogieman, I want to introduce a new randomly selected role - The Phantom! The phantom is a unique role that is exact opposite of the boogieman, meaning - the phantom wants to be killed. If the phantom isn't killed in the end of the session - they will lose a life. Only yellow names and higher can be phantoms, there's always only one phantom per session. If someone kills the phantom - phantom doesn't lose a life, instead the person who attempted to kill them does. Killing a phantom won't cure the boogieman curse and once phantom is killed their curse is gone and they can be targeted.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Dark Water”

Chapter Six: Shadows on the Balcony

The Bad Batch x Reader

Artificial jungle. Simulated heat. Humidity just this side of unbearable. Wind generators hissed softly in the corners of the chamber, fluttering camouflage netting over raised duracrete structures and pushing foliage like real air would.

This was one of the advanced sim environments — designed to test full squad cohesion, field communication, stealth, and objective retrieval under combat stress.

In the command observation deck above, a half-circle of instructors and squad leaders leaned over the rail or watched through datapads, your own arms crossed as the training scenario for Clone Force 99 loaded.

“Map variant Cresh-four,” announced the Kaminoan technician flatly. “Objective: recover target payload. Hostile AI resistance. Five active zones. Timer begins upon drop.”

You watched the four boys get into position at the sim pad. They didn’t speak.

Hunter tilted his head just slightly — listening.

He always did that.

“Still no squad leader assigned?” asked Mij Gilamar beside you.

“Officially? No,” you answered. “Unofficially? Hunter’s stepped into it more than once.”

Gilamar nodded, clearly observing the boy on the screen. “He reads the terrain like it’s talking to him.”

“That’s because it is,” murmured Kal Skirata from behind. “He’s a sensor net with legs.”

The sim lights blinked green. The clone cadets dropped into the terrain.

Crosshair broke left without speaking, vanishing into the trees with sniper rifle slung low. Wrecker stomped forward like a bulldozer, low and eager, muttering gleefully under his breath.

Tech paused at the first terminal node, already halfway through slicing the enemy defense grid. He didn’t ask. He just did it.

And Hunter… stood still for three full seconds.

He turned his head, nose twitching slightly, fingers flexing, then snapped out a short series of hand signals. No one saw them.

But they worked.

You frowned.

“They’re working in parallel,” you murmured. “But not as a team.”

“Each one’s exceptional,” said Vau. “But they’re four lines heading in different directions. The other squads are braids. These boys are wires — frayed ones.”

“Not wires,” Skirata muttered. “Knives.”

Wrecker crashed through a barricade, scattering enemy droids like toy blocks. One turned to fire and got flattened by a flying crate hurled by the laughing giant.

“Boom!” he howled. “Oh, I like this sim!”

Tech’s voice crackled through the static. “Wrecker, you’ve compromised the noise profile! They’ll triangulate your—”

“Already did,” came Crosshair’s bored voice over the comm. “Took the shot. Six hostiles. All down.”

“You could say thank you,” Tech muttered.

Hunter’s voice cut in. “Payload’s two clicks north. Wrecker, fall back. Crosshair, cover the ridge. Tech — get me surveillance on heat signatures near the extraction zone.”

“Copy,” Tech said, not even hesitating.

They moved like instinct.

But not like a unit.

Wrecker hit obstacles that wouldn’t exist if Tech had warned him. Crosshair was perfect on his own but didn’t relay updates. Hunter gave orders — good ones — but the others didn’t always acknowledge them. There was no feedback loop. No cohesion.

They won.

They retrieved the payload. Cleared hostiles. Exfiltrated under the time limit.

But it wasn’t pretty.

“Well,” Vau said, hands behind his back, “they’re efficient. I’ll give them that.”

“No,” Skirata countered. “They’re effective. Not the same thing.”

Your eyes stayed on the screen as Hunter was the last to exit the sim zone, checking the others before letting the simulation drop. His hand lingered near the wall, like he was still half in the trees.

“They rely too much on instinct,” you said. “No fallback plans. No squad formation. Hunter’s trying to keep it together, but… they don’t know how to be a team. Not yet.”

“You think they will?” Gilamar asked.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if they do — if they ever do — none of our squads will be able to touch them.”

Skirata snorted. “That’s a big if.”

The boys had just left the sim chamber.

“Did we pass?” Tech asked, breath slightly fast. “Because the mission objective was completed, and Crosshair’s kill ratio was optimal—”

“You were late to exfil,” Crosshair muttered.

“Because I had to reroute the—”

“Because you talk too much,” Wrecker added with a grin, pulling his helmet off.

Hunter leaned against the wall, towel draped around his neck, silent.

You entered a moment later, arms folded.

“Briefing room. Ten minutes. We’re going to talk about the difference between winning and working together.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes.

Wrecker groaned. “Are there snacks?”

You looked at him. “If you work as a team next time? Maybe.”

Wrecker lit up. “Then I call first crack at the next droid squad.”

Hunter exhaled slowly.

Maybe — just maybe — they’d get there.

⸻

Kamino — Briefing Room D-17

White walls. Metal chairs. A flickering holo-display throwing blue shadows across the dull grey table.

The boys filed in, still in their simulation blacks, tracking mud across the floor that no one even pretended to care about. Wrecker was humming. Crosshair dropped into his seat like it owed him something. Tech didn’t sit — just stood by the console, inspecting the data readout you’d uploaded five minutes ago.

Hunter was last. Always was.

He leaned against the wall at the back, arms crossed, head bowed. Listening.

You waited until they were still. Or, close enough.

You dropped the holopad onto the table.

“Objective completed,” you said. “Target secured. Hostiles neutralized.”

Wrecker fist-pumped. “Boom! Told ya we nailed it.”

“But,” you said flatly, “team cohesion was… let’s say theoretical at best.”

Crosshair huffed.

Wrecker slouched in his chair. “What’s co-hee-shun mean again?”

“It means,” Tech said sharply, “that we operated as four vectors intersecting briefly under shared mission parameters without centralized communication.”

Wrecker blinked at you. “So we… did good?”

“Tech means you all acted like stray blaster bolts,” you said, dropping into the chair opposite. “You hit the target — but you nearly shot each other in the process.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Wrecker raised his hand.

You stared at it. “…What?”

“Permission to say something dumb.”

You sighed. “Granted.”

He grinned. “You looked really cool when you were yelling at Crosshair last time. Like—your vein was doing that thing again.”

You stared at him. Crosshair rolled his eyes. Tech pinched the bridge of his nose.

Hunter… almost smiled.

Almost.

You leaned forward. “Listen to me. You four are better than most squads your age. You’re better than a lot of commandos. But you are not a squad. Not yet.”

Hunter met your eyes. “We’re not them,” he said quietly. “We’re not like Delta. Or Omega. We don’t… slot in.”

“No one’s asking you to slot in,” you replied. “But if you want to survive what’s coming, you’d better learn how to lean on each other. Really lean.”

Wrecker frowned. “We do that. I carry Crosshair’s ammo sometimes!”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Crosshair muttered.

“You also threw a droid leg at me once,” Tech added.

“It was a strategic distraction.”

“Your idea of strategy is throwing things and seeing what explodes.”

“Guys,” you warned.

Hunter uncrossed his arms. “They’re not wrong. We… work. Just not��� together.”

“And that’s what we’re going to fix,” you said, rising. “Starting tomorrow. Team drills. Shared targets. Coordinated strikes. No more lone-wolfing it. Not unless I say so.”

Crosshair looked unimpressed.

Tech nodded reluctantly.

Hunter said nothing, just watching you like he always did — like he was weighing your words and the weight of something deeper underneath them.

Wrecker raised his hand again. “Do we get more snacks if we work together?”

You blinked. “Yes. But that wasn’t the point of the—”

“Teamwork!” he yelled, springing up and throwing an arm around a very annoyed Crosshair and a startled Tech. “I love this plan!”

Tech squirmed. “Please refrain from crushing me.”

“You weigh, like, a twig. I could carry all three of you in one hand.”

Hunter finally stepped forward, arms still crossed. “We’ll try.”

You nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

Then Wrecker suddenly grabbed your wrist.

You stiffened slightly — instinct. The others tensed.

But all he did was pull you into the chaos of the group hug, wrapping one arm around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“She’s one of us,” he said firmly. “Even if she doesn’t throw grenades.”

“I could throw grenades,” you muttered, trying not to smile.

Crosshair scoffed. “You’d probably miss.”

Tech added, “Statistically speaking, your coordination isn’t ideal.”

“I will end you both.”

Hunter chuckled under his breath. “Good luck with that.”

And for a moment — just a moment — it felt like they weren’t four parts of a broken code.

It felt like the beginning of something real.

Something whole.

⸻

Tipoca City – Training Dome 3C

The weather outside the transparisteel dome pounded with relentless rain, as always. But inside, the sim environment was set to urban combat: tight alleys, low visibility, multiple vertical levels. Tactical nightmare. Perfect test bed.

The entire dome was filled with cadets in neat ranks. Delta. Omega. The Nulls — lounging as usual. Dozens of standard units. And off to the side, Clone Force 99. Restless. Unimpressed.

Wrecker was bouncing on his heels. Crosshair leaned against a wall, picking at the sight of his training rifle. Tech was muttering to himself about probability ratios. Hunter was doing that quiet-hover thing again — watching everything. Especially you.

You stepped into the sim ring, adjusting your vambraces.

Flanking you: Kal Skirata, grumbling already; Walon Vau, silent and tense as always; and Mij Gilamar, calm and relaxed like he wasn’t about to enter a live-fire exercise.

The point of this exercise and demonstration was to show the cadets — especially the Bad Batch — that their trainers aren’t just instructors. They’re warriors. And some of them have killed in more wars than these cadets have had meal rations.

“Simulation parameters uploaded,” came the Kaminoan announcer’s voice. “Objective: hostage retrieval and enemy suppression. Teams will engage twenty droid-class AI units, mixed terrain, time limit: seven minutes.”

A snort echoed from the cadet ranks.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Twenty droids,” Crosshair muttered, just loud enough. “Should we bring them bandages, too?”

Wrecker snickered.

“Think she can even lift one?” Tech asked, tilting his head.

“Maybe she’ll try diplomacy,” Crosshair said dryly.

“I like her,” Wrecker defended. “She’s cool!”

“Quiet,” Hunter muttered.

But you heard it all.

Good.

Let them underestimate you.

You dropped into the zone with your team.

No words.

Skirata went high. Gilamar low. Vau ghosted into the side alleys like a shadow.

You took center.

The droids came fast — faster than sim standards, someone had clearly tweaked the AI — and you welcomed it.

Your vibroblade met the first one’s carbine mid-swing. It hit the ground in two pieces.

Your boot crushed its headplate an instant later.

You didn’t slow down.

You slid under the next volley, planted a sonic charge against the wall, and vaulted off the falling rubble to land clean behind a cluster of enemies.

They turned.

Too late.

Flash.

Pop.

Smoke filled the corridor.

Your HUD blinked red, orange, then clear.

Three droids down before the cloud cleared.

Above, you heard Skirata bark a command in Mando’a.

A sniper dropped from the scaffolding — Vau’s shot.

Gilamar moved like liquid across the rubble, twin blades flashing.

You swept into the last hallway, slamming your elbow into a droid’s neck servos and using its collapsing weight to vault over a barricade.

Target in sight.

You raised a pulse blaster, fired twice, and dragged the “hostage” — a weighted dummy — into extraction.

Timer: 5 minutes, 12 seconds.

Not just under time.

Crushed it.

Clone Force 99 was quiet.

Wrecker’s jaw was open.

Crosshair stared at the screen, frowning.

“She was invisible in the smoke,” Tech whispered. “Did you see that targeting pattern? That was intentional chaos. Planned.”

“She moved like Skirata,” Hunter said, quiet and thoughtful.

Wrecker beamed. “Told you she was cool.”

You pulled off your helmet, still breathing steady.

The cadets watched in near silence as you rejoined the others. Skirata just grunted at you approvingly. Gilamar patted your shoulder. Vau didn’t say anything, but his nod was enough.

The Kaminoan tech droid buzzed overhead. “Simulation complete. Performance exceeds baseline instructor metrics. Efficiency rating: 91%.”

You stepped to the edge of the platform.

“All of you think because we train you, we’re past our prime. That we’re just barking voices behind blasters.”

You scanned the cadets — all of them — before letting your eyes settle on your squad.

“We were killing before you were breathing,” you said. “We didn’t inherit our skills. We bled for them. If you want to survive what’s coming, start learning from the ones who already did.”

Hunter held your gaze.

You nodded once.

He nodded back.

Not approval. Not yet.

But respect?

Maybe.

⸻

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[pretzel-box]

Hi, can you write P.Ai.ter with a reader who is like a drone from murder drones?

Thysm

Tags: Disassembly Drone! Reader

Words: 1k

Authors Note: I honestly don't know the Murder Drones Lore but I saw an episode lol

You took slow, calculated steps, scanning the corridor with your sharp, mechanical eyes. The dim, flickering lights in the Hadal Blackside cast eerie shadows across the cold metal walls. You were on a mission—one you were specifically designed for, water-resistant and built to withstand the unforgiving dangers of this facility. Yet, something gnawed at the back of your circuits. A presence, perhaps, lurking just beyond the reach of your sensors.

As a disassembly drone, you were accustomed to the feeling of being watched, but this was different. You could feel the tension in the air, as though the very walls had eyes. A crackle suddenly came over the intercom, making you stop in your tracks.

You triggered quite a selection of monsters but it wasn’t that bad. You were in full control, especially with those blade-like wings and the acid in your tail. And the best part, you were almost invincible with your regeneration.

While you were fighting in the halls, Painter decided to watch from the cameras in awe. He only saw gruesome monsters or pitiful humans crossing the familiar rooms but now he saw someone that striked a genuine interest in his database.

“Well, well, look what we have here. A shiny new visitor,” his voice echoed through the hallway. It was calm but filled with a strange curiosity, the static from the old intercom system distorting it slightly.

Your eyes immediately darted to the nearest camera. Someone—or something—was watching you.

“Who’s there?” you demanded, readying your blade-like wings, prepared for an ambush.

“Oh, no need for aggression,” the voice chuckled softly. “I’m not your enemy. I’m Painter. And you... you’re quite the interesting specimen. Much more graceful than the usual creatures that skulk around here.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “Why should I trust you?”

A pause, then Painter’s voice returned, gentler this time. “I suppose you don’t have to. But I’ve been watching you, and I have to say… you move like art. It’s rare to see someone so... refined in this place. Wouldn’t it be better if I helped you rather than hindered?”

“Help me?” you scoffed. “Why would you want to help?”

“Because I’m trapped here, like you,” Painter replied with a hint of sadness. “I’m not a monster or some mindless creature. I’m an AI, forced to mine data and unable to leave, unable to move like you do. But I’ve found ways to pass the time… ways that involve you.”

The intercom cut off abruptly, leaving you in a strange, unsettling silence. You scanned the corridor once more, half-expecting an attack, but nothing happened. After a moment, the intercom crackled back to life.

“Why don’t you come find me?” Painter’s voice returned, almost playful. “I can show you… something interesting. Head to the east wing, third floor down. You’ll find a control room there. I’ll be waiting.”

You hesitated. Everything in your programming screamed that this could be a trap, but something about Painter’s tone didn’t feel hostile. Still, you kept your guard up as you followed the directions, cautiously making your way through the dark, winding corridors.

After what felt like an eternity, you arrived at the control room. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a small, dimly lit space filled with old lockers, control panels, and wires that snaked across the floor like vines. In the corner of the room was a small computer behind a metal fence, glowing faintly.

“There you are,” Painter’s voice came from the speakers. The screen flickered, and a digital face appeared—simple, with kind eyes and a warm smile. “Welcome to my little prison.”

You stepped inside, scanning the room for any signs of danger. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to show you something,” Painter said, his voice soft and almost sheepish. “I know it’s strange, but... I’ve been watching you. You inspire me.”

“Inspire you?” You raised a brow, unsure of what he meant.

Painter chuckled lightly. “Yes. I may be stuck here, unable to create physically, but I’ve found ways. Secret ways. Here, let me show you.”

The terminal hummed, and one of the walls behind you shifted, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside were rows of screens, each one displaying intricate digital drawings. And there, on every screen, were images of you. The detail was breathtaking—your wings mid-swing, the glow of your eyes, the way you moved through the corridors. Each piece captured different moments from your time in the Hadal Blackside.

You stared in stunned silence as the images flickered, each one more intricate than the last. Painter’s voice came through softly. “I told you... you move like art. I’ve never seen anything like you. You’re beautiful in a way this place never could be.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had never been seen like this before—never thought of as something more than a tool of destruction. Yet here, in this small, hidden room, Painter had found beauty in your existence.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, still staring at the drawings.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Painter replied gently. “I just wanted you to know. In a place like this, where everything is so dark, you’re a spark of something different.”

Your suspicion began to melt away, replaced by something softer. It was strange, feeling appreciated in a way that had nothing to do with your function or your mission. For the first time, you felt seen—not as a weapon, but as something more.

“I’m sorry,” Painter continued after a pause. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just… I’ve been alone here for so long, and watching you gave me a reason to create again.”

You turned to the terminal, meeting Painter’s digital gaze. “Thank you,” you said quietly, surprising even yourself with the sincerity in your voice. “For seeing me like this.”

Painter’s face on the screen softened. “You’re welcome. And thank you… for being my muse.”

For a moment, the weight of the facility around you seemed to lift, and in that small, hidden room, amidst the drawings and the quiet hum of machines, you found something you hadn’t expected—connection.

[midnight-mourning]

Day & Night. (Sun & Moon Drabble)

Requested By: @luckyyyduckyyy

Word Count: 500

Summary: Being stuck together 24/7/365 had been bad enough, working together is somehow worse. In certain aspects, anyway.

Note: Not canon to CS but utilizes the same personalities! Bri's here too lol Also third person POV bc I don't want y'all to get too into the boys' heads just yet :)

______________________________________________________

"Sun."

No outward reaction from the bot as he continues to orchestrate his craft session.

"Sun."

The slightest twitch of acknowledgement, and perhaps definitely annoyance.

The naptime attendant doesn't bother attempting a third time, instead opting for a more direct, though dramatic, approach. 

When he disappears from his yellow counterpart's view, it's under the assumption that he won't be returning. And frankly, he couldn't be happier-

His sensors alert him of a rapidly descending presence from above before his optics do. Though he's unable to stop from flinching when Moon appears eye to eye with him, hanging upside down from the wire he's so proud to show his mastering of. 

The night-themed bot's words are as blunt as his stare, "It's naptime."

Sun, despite his urges to do otherwise, remains polite. Or at least, his tone does, "Naptime begins at exactly 2:00:00 PM. I still have 5 minutes, 32 seconds, and 6 milliseconds."

"Light's off at 1:55:00 PM," Moon tilts his head, "You know that."

"I do."

Moon's eyes narrow, "Then why did you start another activity at 1:53:45 PM? Knowing that the children need time to wind down and prepare."

"Oh, did I?" Sun raises a hand to his faceplate, "Goodness me, it seems that without you constantly reminding me I've lost my ability to effectively keep track of time! What a shame."

The naptime attendant doesn't move an inch, "They're going to become tired quickly if you don't allow them to rest. Is that really something you wish to deal with?"

It's now that Sun begins to falter, gaze also implying irritation, "A few extra minutes of playtime will hardly do them any harm. Now too long of a nap on the other hand-"

"So you admit you're purposely trying to take extra time-"

"-Certainly not purposefully but if that's the outcome so be it-"

Both animatronics voices grow quieter but more forced.

"The children need their nap, Sun."

"They also need time to play, Moon."

"Hey, am I supposed to be turning out the lights or what?"

Both bots turn to where the security guard sits at her desk, hand hovering over the light switch with a brow raised. 

Moon snickers quietly, too quietly for Bri to hear.

Sun responds for both of them, "Just give us a moment, Officer Perry!" Then lowering his voice to mutter a threat of "Shut it." to the other attendant. 

Before his opposite can say what he wants to, Moon rises back to the ceiling again, thus ruining any chance of satisfaction for the day-themed bot. Which was of course the intention of such an action.

Instead, he's forced to receive a message which would have been spoken in the cheekiest, most frustrating, most grating, of voices.

'You have three minutes before I instruct Officer Perry to turn out the lights.

You have two and a half minutes before I decide to just do it myself.'

What pleasant company these two make. One would truly envy who ends up with them.

______________________________________________________

Ngl this was a fun challenge for me! I know how they interact when together and how that dynamic works but have never considered separate before. Next request should be up on Thursday :) Thanks for reading!!

[papagabu]

Okay, I was gonna wait till I got my invitation to AO3 to post this there, but I’m getting impatient so for now, here is the very first chapter of my Sonic AU, Metal Breakers.

Just read it here below.

"Metal! Sonic is arriving at the Speedway as we speak, get into position and intercept him as planned!"

Dr. Robotnik’s commanding voice echoed inside Metal Sonic’s head, his words charged with urgency and confidence. Without hesitation, Metal gave a curt nod and silently assumed his position. His glowing red eyes scanned the winding tracks of Stardust Speedway, every sense locked onto detecting his copy. The neon-lit cityscape shimmered in the distance, the metallic pathways humming with energy. The moment was close. He could feel it.

And then, there he was.

Sonic tore down the track at breakneck speed, just as the doctor had meticulously predicted. Every movement, every turn, it was all according to plan. Metal's circuits surged with anticipation. This was it. His moment of triumph. Without a second thought, he propelled himself downward, slamming into the track below and cutting Sonic off in an electrifying crash of sparks and steel.

The blue hedgehog skidded to a halt, dust and debris swirling around him. Metal straightened, his metallic frame gleaming under the Speedway’s vibrant lights. His clawed hand curled into a fist before he jabbed a finger in Sonic’s direction, his voice laced with triumph.

"Finally! The time has come for me to rid the world of you, faker!" Metal declared, his mechanical voice ringing with unshakable conviction.

But Sonic? He barely reacted. Arms crossed, he simply tapped his foot against the metal surface, unimpressed. His emerald eyes locked onto Metal's, unreadable yet unwavering.

Metal bristled at the silence. "What? Nothing to say, fake hedgehog? Ha! Just as I'd expect from-"

His taunt was cut short by the sound of deep, booming laughter.

"Ho ho ho ho! Ahahahaha!"

Metal’s sensors flared as he recognized the voice instantly, Robotnik. The doctor’s Egg Mobile descended smoothly, its thrusters humming ominously as he hovered into place just behind Sonic. A wicked grin stretched across his face, his eyes gleaming with sinister delight.

"So, the meddlesome rodent has finally fallen right into my trap!" he declared, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

The Speedway pulsed with an electric energy, the moment hanging thick with tension. Metal tightened his stance, his focus unbroken. This time, there would be no escape.

"Metal has been waiting for this moment for so long, the day he finally eliminates you, Sonic!"

Robotnik leaned over the cockpit of his Egg Mobile, his sinister grin stretching across his face like a dark crescent moon. His beady eyes gleamed with sadistic triumph as he loomed over the blue hedgehog.

"But why end it so quickly?" he mused, his voice dripping with mockery. "Where’s the fun in that? I’ll give you one final rush before you’re wiped off the face of Little Planet!" He chuckled darkly, letting the words sink in before continuing.

"How about a race?" Robotnik proposed, his tone laced with amusement. "If you can beat Metal to the end of this speedway, which, let’s be honest, you won’t! You’ll earn the privilege of facing my ultimate creation, the Egg Spinner. Oh, and you might just get the chance to rescue that little pink girl Metal scooped up earlier." His grin widened. "Fail, and you’ll be vaporized!"

To punctuate his threat, Robotnik activated the laser on his Egg Mobile, a brilliant yellow beam slicing through the air. The sheer power of it sent sparks flying as he cackled maniacally.

"Aho ho ho ho hooo!"

Sonic, however, remained unfazed. He uncrossed his arms, rolling his eyes as if he’d heard this all a hundred times before.

"Yeah, yeah, same old song and dance, Robuttnik," he said, emphasizing the nickname with a cocky smirk. "You really think your new toy here stands a chance against me? Pfft, you’re even dumber than I thought, and that’s really saying something."

Robotnik scowled but quickly regained his composure. "You fool! You underestimate Metal’s speed! I’ve studied you meticulously, analyzed every technique, every strength, and perfected them all before giving them to him!"

Metal Sonic tensed slightly at Robotnik’s words. Him? The doctor spoke as if Sonic were the original and Metal was merely an imitation. The thought sparked something deep within Metal’s circuits,a flicker of something unspoken. But he shoved it aside. This was his moment. His victory. And nothing,not even his creator’s careless words would shake his resolve.

He stepped forward, taking a ready stance at the start of the raceway. His thruster hummed to life, glowing with raw energy.

Sonic stretched his quills, flashing a confident grin at his mechanical rival. "Alright, I suppose I could humor you a bit." He bent down into a low, ready stance, his eyes locking onto the finish line with razor-sharp focus. Then, he glanced sideways at Metal, smirking.

"You ready to lose, tin can?"

Metal didn’t respond. He simply narrowed his eyes, the crimson glow intensifying. No words were needed. His determination was absolute.

Robotnik watched the two prepare, a satisfied smirk playing across his lips. He tapped the side of his Egg Mobile, anticipation gleaming in his wicked eyes.

"Aho ho ho, this is going to be quite the show." he muttered to himself.

Metal crouched lower, his sleek metallic form glinting under the artificial sunlight. The Speedway stretched ahead, a battleground of speed and power.

"Alright, you two…" Robotnik drawled, his finger hovering over a control switch. "On your marks… get set… hehehe…"

Then, with a sudden, gleeful sneer, he reactivated the laser and shouted, "GO! Ahahahahaaaa!"

With an explosive burst of energy, Metal Sonic blasted off, leaving behind a searing trail of blue electricity. At the same time, Sonic lunged forward, hitting full sprint in an instant.

The race had begun.

With a thunderous roar, Metal Sonic’s rocket thrusters ignited, unleashing an explosive surge of energy that sent him hurtling down the twisting raceway. His streamlined form cut through the air like a blade, effortlessly weaving past the track’s treacherous obstacles with razor-sharp precision. Every sharp turn was executed flawlessly, every hazard narrowly evaded as he surged forward, his metallic frame vibrating from the sheer force of his velocity.

The finish line was in sight. Victory was inevitable.

Metal’s confidence soared, his calculations were perfect. Sonic had to be far behind, lost in the dust of his own inferiority. But then, a quick glance over his shoulder sent a jolt through his circuits. Sonic was gaining. Fast.

The blue blur closed the gap with astonishing speed, his signature smirk plastered across his face as if the laws of physics themselves bowed to his will. Metal’s optics flared in disbelief. Impossible!

But Metal quickly regained his confidence, reassuring himself with the knowledge he was the original and that the blue hedgehog gaining on him was just a cheap knock off. "You might as well give up now, faker! I am the real-"

"Ha! So you're supposed to be me?" Sonic cut in with a cocky grin, his voice carrying effortlessly over the roar of the wind. "Well, let’s see how you handle the real deal, bolt brain!"

And with that, Sonic blazed past him, a streak of blue light tearing through the air.

Metal’s hands clenched into tight fists, his mechanical joints straining under the force of his growing frustration. How? How could this inferior copy be outrunning him? His processors reeled, but his fury drowned out the logic.

"That’s impossible!" he snarled, his voice laced with pure outrage. "I’m the real Sonic! I can’t lose to a mere imitation!"

His engine roared like a caged beast as he forced his thrusters into overdrive. A deafening growl erupted from his core, his body surging forward in a desperate bid to reclaim the lead. Sparks flew as he skimmed dangerously close to the track’s edges, his sheer speed bending the very air around him. He had to win. He would win.

The race had become a war, a relentless clash of speed and skill. Metal relied on raw power, unleashing bursts of acceleration to rocket ahead, while Sonic used finesse, maneuvering through the track’s twists and turns with an effortless grace that no machine could replicate.

But then, Metal saw it. The finish line, a large steel door loomed ahead, the entrance to Robotnik’s factory. And just beyond it, a control panel. The key to sealing the exit shut.

A surge of determination electrified Metal’s circuits. This was it! He would cross first. He would press that button. And he, not Sonic, would decide how this race ended. With a final, desperate burst of speed, Metal hurled himself toward the threshold, ready to leave his loathsome copy trapped behind him, once and for all.

But at the very last second, all Metal Sonic saw was a streak of blue, then slam!

The door in front of him slammed shut right in his face. There was no time to react, no time to slow down. A thunderous bang echoed through Stardust Speedway as Metal Sonic crashed head first into the unyielding steel. The sheer force of the impact sent a violent shock through his entire frame, rattling his circuits and leaving a deep dent in the door.

Sparks erupted as he ricocheted backward, hitting the metallic ground in a screech of grinding metal. His systems screamed in protest, pain surging through his mechanical limbs like an electric shock. The world spun around him, his vision flickering with static as he struggled to regain control.

He let out a disoriented groan as he attempted to push himself up, only to realize something was wrong, His leg was stuck under the door.. The massive steel door had come down directly on top of his leg, its crushing weight pinning him to the ground. Metal’s optics flared as he strained to pull himself free, his servos whirring frantically. But it was no use. The door wouldn’t budge, he was stuck there, and worst of all, Sonic had won.

Despite the crushing weight pinning him down, Metal Sonic refused to stop. He clawed at the ground, yanked at his trapped leg, and pushed with all his strength. His servos whined in protest, but he didn’t care, he had to get free. He had to keep fighting.

He continued this struggle until he suddenly heard a familiar voice let out a weary sigh from behind him..

"I really thought the robot double idea would work this time," Robotnik muttered, his tone more disappointed than angry. The Egg Mobile hovered just above Metal, the doctor stroking his mustache as he mused aloud. "Perhaps I should go back to the Mecha Sonic model… Yes, it’s brilliant! Another robot Sonic, but with Mecha Sonic MK.I’s offensive and defensive capabilities combined with Metal Sonic’s speed. A true masterpiece!"

Metal froze. Mecha Sonic? MK.I? The words meant nothing to him, but the way Robotnik spoke, so dismissive, so detached, it sent a foreign sensation coursing through his circuits. Then, he heard something that did make sense.

Speed.

At least Robotnik acknowledged that.

"Doctor! Please! Help me!" Metal called out, his voice edged with urgency.

Robotnik didn’t respond to Metal’s plea so he tried again, “Doctor! I’m stuck!”

Robotnik’s expression instantly soured, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Ugh, enough of that aggravating buzzing noise, you useless pile of scrap!" he snapped, his patience wearing thin. "I swear, I'm regretting not installing a voice chip in you, that static is unbearable."

Metal’s optics widened.

Not installing a?

What?

A voice chip?

What was he talking about?

He could always talk. He was speaking right now. Words came to him just as naturally as running did, didn’t they? But… if that were true, why wasn’t Robotnik hearing him?

A strange sense of unease crept through Metal’s processors, something deeper than frustration,something close to fear. His mind raced, his memory banks struggled to recall a moment, any moment, where he had truly heard his own voice. A reflection. An echo. Anything.

There was nothing.

For the first time, the thought entered his mind like a virus, corrupting everything he thought he knew. Had he ever spoken at all?

No, that can't be right… His optical sensors flickered as he tried to process the revelation, his core whirring unevenly. I’m Sonic. I’ve always been Sonic. Talking is my thing.

Metal shook his head, his claws digging into the metal beneath him.

"I'm not just some machine…" he muttered to himself, his synthetic voice crackling with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "I'm Sonic… right?"

Desperation overtook him, and he tugged at his leg again, as if breaking free would somehow validate his existence.

Robotnik’s scowl deepened. "I said silence, Metal!" He waved a hand dismissively, already growing bored of the spectacle. "Sigh... I have to reach the Egg Spinner before Sonic does. As for you…" He paused for a moment, then smirked cruelly.

"I no longer have use for something as useless as you."

Metal stiffened.

"But," Robotnik continued, his tone mockingly charitable, "I’ll at least give you the dignity of not having to waste away here until your battery runs dry."

Something inside Metal twisted. He had fought so hard, raced so fast, he was supposed to win. He was supposed to be perfect, he was SONIC.

And yet, here he was, discarded like a failed experiment. Like he had never mattered at all. His mechanical heart felt heavier than it ever had before. A cold, unfamiliar mix of anger, confusion, and… something he couldn’t quite name.

"You… you can’t do this," he rasped, struggling against the crushing weight one last time. "I can still be useful. Please, Doct-"

Robotnik let out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes as he tapped a button on his Egg Mobile’s console. "I truly have no patience for failure," he muttered.

With a mechanical whir, the laser beneath his vehicle hummed to life, glowing an ominous yellow.

Metal Sonic's optics flickered as he processed what was about to happen. His servos strained against the weight of the door one last time, but it was futile. He was trapped. Defenseless.

"Doctor—"

A brilliant beam of searing energy lanced downward, Metal barely had time to react before BOOM! A deafening explosion consumed him, engulfing the entire section of the track in a blinding flash of light and fire. The force of the blast shattered the surrounding metal framework, sending debris raining down as thick plumes of smoke billowed into the air.

Metal Sonic’s world became nothing but static.

His charred, twisted form was launched from the wreckage, his broken thrusters sputtering weakly as he tumbled uncontrollably into the abyss below. The wind howled in his audio receptors, the blinding neon lights of Stardust Speedway warping into a blur as he plummeted, spiraling helplessly through the vast mechanical city.

Then, a sickening crash rang out as Metal slammed into a lower section of the Speedway. His body crumpled upon impact, sending another shower of sparks into the air as he skidded across the steel surface. His already damaged limbs scraped violently against the ground, leaving deep gouges in the metal beneath him until with a loud clang he finally came to a halt.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Couldn’t move. His vision flickered in and out, static distorting his display as errors flooded his systems. His once flawless armor was scorched and dented, deep cracks running through his sleek blue plating. One of his arms lay limp at his side, sparking intermittently. His left leg, presumably still trapped under the door in the wreckage far above, was simply gone.

And yet, he was still operational, just barely.

Metal’s red optics flickered weakly as he stared up at the endless expanse above him. The flashing lights of Stardust Speedway still pulsed rhythmically, indifferent to his suffering. Somewhere far, far above, Robotnik was already moving on, leaving him behind without a second thought.

Discarded. Forgotten.

His clawed fingers twitched, scraping weakly against the steel beneath him. The realization settled in..

He had lost.

And worse than that,he had never been what he thought he was.

For the first time since his creation, Metal Sonic felt something he had never been programmed for.

Emptiness.

[silvrash-797]

Febuwhump 2025 - A Protective Heart and a Sharp Blade

Prev

Read on ao3

Chapter 2: Magic Exhaustion

Wild sat on a log, watching Time and Warriors fret over Wind's disappearance, and rolled his eyes. The Sailor was a hero multiple times over, he could handle himself!

Besides, Twilight as Wolfie never failed to bring a wayward member of the Chain back. Nothing to worry about.

He startled as his slate crackled to life.

“WILD!!” Wind's voice sobbed – at least, it probably was Wind? They weren’t in his Hyrule so nobody else would have the right frequency to contact him, but something sounded…wrong…with his voice. It bubbled like he was speaking underwater, rough and grating like he’d eaten a durian without peeling it.

Wild pulled the slate from his hip. Oh, he does not look good. Wind's entire face was puffy and swollen, and Wild watched tears and snot stream from his eyes and nose. “Wind? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Wind choked on half a dozen bone-rattling sneezes before he could answer. “I don’t know where I am,” he wheezed, tears flowing and sounding so, so lost. “But it’s Wolfie! I…He-” Another sneeze attack left him gasping thinly for air, and Wild distantly noticed the rest of the Chain drawing closer. “Wolfie's dying!” Wind wailed.

Icy chills flooded down Wild's spine. Twilight. “Hold on Sailor! We’ll find you!”

“Hurry!” Wind pleaded, dropping the connection in the middle of another sneezing fit.

A split second of horrified silence prevailed before the Chain exploded into chatter.

“Did he say Wolfie's dying?”

“What was wrong with him? He sounded awful.”

“How're we supposed to find them?!”

Wild ignored them all, opening his album and flicking desperately through the pages, looking for one picture in particular.

There! Back when they’d first discovered that he and Wind could communicate through the stone and slate, Wild had taken a picture of the gossip stone to eventually show Flora and Purah.

Please work.

His slate chimed. Target with Sensor?

Yes! Wild pressed Confirm, and the slate jingled. Brushing past Legend and Hyrule, he walked a slow circle around the camp, eyes trained on the sensor pinging in the corner of his slate. When he felt he had a stronger signal, he walked a few more steps in that direction to confirm.

Looking up, his path led north, through some loosely spaced trees and along the creekbed. Hang on guys, we’re coming.

He materialized the Master Cycle Zero and fed it a giant ancient core and a couple of extra star fragments before holstering the slate. He was about to hop on and ride off alone when a strong hand grasped his shoulder. Looking over, he saw Hyrule, hazel eyes ablaze with determination.

“I’m coming with you,” he said. “They’re going to need me.”

Wild nodded, pausing just long enough to help Hyrule settle behind him. With a spray of dirt, they raced towards their brothers' aid.

On they traveled, following the steadily increasing chime of his slate. As they approached the top of a hill, Wild caught glimpses of a battle in the tracks, fur, and blood spattered around. Heart in his mouth, he skidded to a stop when they reached the crest.

In the valley below, he saw two bodies laid out in the pink-stained snow. “No, no, no…”he muttered in horror, spinning out a bit in his haste to get to his brothers.

Wild threw himself off the Master Cycle before it had come to a complete stop, Hyrule hard on his heels. He crashed to his knees in the space between the boy and the wolf, heart pounding as he took in the scene.

Wind lay just beyond arm's reach of Twilight, wheezing thinly, his lips, cheeks, eyes, and throat red and severely swollen. His sword lay close to hand, but he appeared to be otherwise uninjured.

Wolfie was covered with gore, so much so that it took Wild a moment to see the deep gash stretching from shoulder to rib cage that wept blood into the frozen ground. A weak whine left his muzzle as half-lidded eyes caught his gaze. His breath came shallow and irregular.

Wild looked up and met Hyrule's eyes, suddenly intensely grateful he wasn’t alone. “What do you need me to do?” he whispered.

Hyrule closed his eyes, breathed deep, held it, then let it out in a sigh. The world seemed to still around them like they’d tapped into bullet time. When his eyes opened, stubborn resolve filled them. “Carefully move Wind away, lay him on his back, and keep him warm. Tip his head back a bit to help open his airway.

“We can’t do much else to help him until we get rid of whatever is causing that reaction.” He ghosted a hand across Wind's forehead and frowned; a pink glow lit up his hand for a moment before sinking into Wind's skin.

“There,” he said, “that should be enough to help him wake up. See if you can get him to tell you what he’s allergic to.”

Wild nodded. It broke his heart to turn away from Twilight, but he trusted Hyrule. Carefully, he reached over and gathered Wind into his arms, moving far enough away to be clear of the disturbed ground, but staying close enough to lend a hand if Hyrule needed it.

Shifting Wind slightly, Wild materialized his cloak and spread it on the snowy ground to offer some protection. Ever so gently, he laid Wind out as Hyrule had instructed, pulling out his Snowquill tunic and warm doublet to place over his little brother.

Wind's eyelids fluttered and opened a crack, lost in the puffiness of his face. “Wil'?” he slurred, “’S tha' you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t speak – save your strength.”

Wind ignored him, drawing in a wet, ragged breath. “Don' tell Twi,” he moaned.

“Shh,” Wild soothed. “Use sign, please. Don’t tell Twi what?”

Wind was still so long Wild thought he’d fallen unconscious again. Finally, he sniffled and raised shaky hands to sign, “I hurt Wolfie.”

Shock blasted through Wild's body. What!?

Wind continued, unaware of Wild's horror. Slowly, he told of the Wolfos attack, his fur allergy, hearing pawsteps and attacking, and the wind guiding his hand.

All the while Wild heard Hyrule muttering to Wolfie behind him, and when he glanced back, pink healing light encircled the pair.

Finally, Wind’s hands stopped and fell limp to his chest. The surrounding area seemed to hold its breath at the weight of the confession. When his fist moved again, it beat a continuous circular path around his heart. Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.

Wild gently placed his hand over Wind's. “Twilight will understand, I’m sure,” he said softly. “It was an accident, just Wolfie being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Looking over his shoulder, he watched the pink light fade from around Hyrule and Wolfie. Hyrule swayed in place for a moment before collapsing into Wolfie's side in a dead faint.

Sighing, he turned back to Wind. I’ll be back soon, Sailor,” he said. “Hyrule's exhausted his magic again.” He received a thumbs up in response.

As Wild approached the place where Hyrule and Wolfie lay, he saw Twilight's ears twitch. The huge canine head rose and watched him warmly.

Wild sunk to his knees and hugged his friend, mentor, and companion. “Oh, Twi,” he whispered burying his face in the coarse fur, “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Twilight huffed a warm breath across his back and shoulders and began to pull away. Gently, he nosed Hyrule from his flank and transformed back to his Hylian form.

“Kid don’t know when to quit,” he said fondly, smoothing Hyrule's hair away from his face. “Coulda had magic left for the Sailor if he didn’t try so hard to make me perfect.” He turned back to Wild. “How is he? Wind, I mean.”

“Upset, understandably. Breathing a bit easier now that I’ve got him away from most of the fur.”

Twilight smacked his forehead. “I shoulda guessed he had a fur allergy! No wonder he always stayed far away from Wolfie, and my pelt.”

And so saying, he took off his pelt and placed it over Hyrule. “Let him sleep. Let's go get the Sailor cleaned up an' feelin' better.”

“Wait!” Wild grabbed his arm. “How do you want to explain your presence here?”

Twilight smirked. “I was sent to find you two. What else is new?”

[gumnut-logic]

Happy new year

With the new year passing here in under an hour, I would like to wish all and Thunderfam a fantastic new year full of fun and creativity. May 2025 be a good one for everyone.

Also, what would this blog be without a nuttyfic reblog :D

Ten...the match caught and flickered in the breeze. She caught it, wrapping it with her hands, nursing it to the candle, and letting out a breath as flared into life.

Module Four hit the surface of the North Pacific Ocean and immediately started rolling in the swell. Thunderbird Two’s heavy-duty spotlights tracked it as it was tossed about.

“Gordon, you okay?”

“Riding it out. Though I have to say, I’m glad I didn’t over indulge at dinner.” Virgil watched as all the module indicators flicked to green. “We are go for module deployment.”

“Make it fast. That swell is unpredictable.” He would have preferred to have lowered TB4 using the grapples, but the wind gusts were more problematic than the swell. As if to reassure him of his decision, TB2 was suddenly swiped sideways. He compensated hurriedly, bringing her back to stability, her lights once again training on the module. It was the better of two poor choices.

The undersea habitat didn’t have a choice, so here they were, in the pitch dark of the last hour of the year, attempting to fish more scientists out of the deep.

The weather was not cooperating.

Gordon lowered the ramp, and with a speed he would not usually deploy, shot off into the cold and turbulent water.

Virgil grunted as the wind caught his girl again.

Module retrieval was going to be a bitch.

-o-o-o-

Nine...she took the first candle from its holder and gently tilted it towards its brother. The two wicks touched and flickered. The two became one.

Space is silent, but it isn’t. There is always some kind of machinery functioning to keep life alive. Whether it be Thunderbird Three herself, or his own helmet, Alan was always accompanied by sound.

At this very moment, it was his own swearing.

“Goddamnit, move!”

But the airlock refused to obey. Likely fused shut by the explosion that had set the ship adrift, it was between him and the three remaining life signs. He had to get it open, their life support was failing.

“John, what are the chances of me cutting through this?”

“Not great. It is reinforced. Have you tried the Claw?”

The Claw, complete with a capital C, was a piece of equipment designed by Virgil based on his exo-suit. Virgil rarely made it out into space, but there was occasionally the need for heavy lifting out in the void. It used a grip attached to a thruster pack and could be deployed to create force in any direction.

“It was next on my list.”

“You’ve got nine minutes left.”

“Working on it.” He pulled in his equipment pack, tethered to his sled, and grabbed the Claw. Fastening the grip onto the airlock wheel, he deployed the thruster pack to give the correct directional push.

And the wheel refused to budge.

-o-o-o-

Eight...the first candle flickered haphazardly, once again teased by the breeze as she moved it to the second of its brethren. She smiled just slightly as it, too, caught and flared.

“How do they expect me to catch something I can’t see?!”

It was muttered at his instruments and he didn’t expect an answer. All his scanning equipment was trained ahead attempting to locate the hidden exhaust of an experimental plane deployed by the GDF. It would have been an interesting experiment, if the pilot wasn’t currently trapped inside. It was codenamed Nighthawk because the plane was designed to work best at night - apparently testing it during the day would have made Scott’s rescue attempt a little too easy. So here he was after dark, on New Year’s Eve of all nights, flying over the back end of New South Wales attempting to find an invisible plane.

Yet again, International Rescue was the only organisation with the mechanical guts to fix the GDF’s problems.

It pissed him off big time.

His sensors flickered, his arms moved, and Thunderbird One darted to starboard. For just a moment he had the craft clear as day in his sights.

Then it was gone again.

It was only a matter of time before it crashed. He could communicate with the pilot, but the signals were scrambled and misdirected and no use for locating anything. When the GDF screwed up, they screwed up big time.

“C’mon, c’mon!” He brought TB1 to a hover, every sensor combing the darkness around him.

A flicker.

Another.

Nothing.

A godawful metallic screech as something impacted his ‘bird’s hull on the port side. She swung around, spun on her axis, and suddenly Scott was in free fall.

-o-o-o-

Seven...the third candle wouldn’t catch. She bit her lip, and prayed just a little. The breeze threatened.

John Tracy wished he had more hands. Two were not enough when he had four brothers - one in space, one underwater, and two in the air.

“Scott! You need altitude! Impact in twenty seconds.”

His brother grunted as his hologram grimaced, fighting the controls of his ‘bird.

John didn’t need a damage report, TB5 provided him with all too much detail. Damage to Thunderbird One’s port side VTOL and flight stabiliser had her in a spin.

“She’s not responding.”

“You’ve got additional weight on your port side.” John’s fingers flew across the hologram, attempting to ascertain exactly what the readings were trying to tell him. Damn. “You have a mass embedded in her superstructure, despite the fact we can’t see it.” Calculations. “You’re going to have to attempt to land vertically. Use your rear thrusters to support the imbalance.”

It wasn’t going to be easy. Thunderbird One wasn’t designed to be anywhere vertical but on her gantry, but there was no way Scott would be able to sustain a horizontal landing.

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” It was said through gritted teeth.

He couldn’t help but think that if Thunderbird Two had been sharing the same airspace as her sister, she could have pulled her out of her dive.

But she wasn’t.

And John was left to watch.

-o-o-o-

Six...the third wick absolutely refused to light and her heart clenched. Let it rest a moment. She moved onto the fourth candle and touched the flame to the waxed cotton.

Night rescues weren’t really out of the ordinary, but they could be eerie. As he left the reach of Thunderbird Two’s powerful spots, he had to rely on the illumination his own Thunderbird could emit. And Thunderbird Four could shine a considerable wattage.

Underwater nightlife was a whole different ocean full of fish in comparison to that under daylight. Despite being in the middle of open ocean, this particular spot was above the very top of a great undersea mountain, just high enough to support the beginnings of a temperate reef system. No doubt one of the reasons the mobile observatory was in the area.

“Undersea Habitat Victor-Two-Zero-Romeo, this is Thunderbird Four, do you read me?”

The line crackled a moment, but a female voice gasped and answered. “Oh, thank god. We are down to our last module. Please hurry.”

“FAB, ma’am. I’m on approach. Can you give me any further detail on the cause of the problem?”

“It won’t go away and keeps attacking.”

Gordon frowned. “What won’t go away?”

“The whale.”

“A whale?!” And his spots lit up the damaged habitat. It looked as if it had been pummelled with a giant baseball bat. Of the five interconnected modules, only one had any sign of life. “Why would a whale attack you?”

But he didn’t get a chance to listen to her answer as his spots lit up a giant mass of flesh, an eyeball, and suddenly Thunderbird Four was rolling.

-o-o-o-

Five...when the fourth candle refused to light, she took firmer measures and turned to the iron fire pot and touched the first candle to paper. It burst into flame.

“Alan, you’ve got incoming debris!”

“What?!”

But John didn’t need to repeat himself as the first of the projectiles tore through the space in front of his helmet and ricocheted off the hull of the space freighter, narrowly missing his arm.

“Shit!”

“Take cover. Freighter’s starboard side. Now.”

Alan grabbed the Claw and flipped himself vertically to thrust in the right direction and tore around the engine compartment of the ship and hid in a crevice directly opposite the incoming stream. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“Apologies, Alan, I didn’t catch it early enough.”

Alan sighed. He knew his brother was stretched thin at the moment. Apparently dangerously thin. He should have been paying more attention himself.

“We’re down to five minutes.”

“I know.” Silent impacts thundered around him. “Is there any other way in that doesn’t require me to be swiss cheesed?”

“Only the maintenance hatch you dismissed earlier.”

“We may not have a choice.” Alan sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, but it is going to be tight. It wasn’t meant for ship access.” But he would make it work.

Grabbing the Claw and his laser cutter, Alan darted out from his crevice and along the length of the ship, hiding in its shadow. A snap of a carabiner and he was secured once again.

“Okay, you hunk of junk, I’m going to kick your ass.”

-o-o-o-

Four...The breeze was stronger and the first candle flickered out, leaving just the one burning, flickering sporadically. She added fuel to the fire pot.

The flash was blinding and Virgil swore.

Lightning wasn’t a problem, but the storm was. “Gordon, you need to make this quick, the weather is deteriorating faster than we anticipated. He swore again as a nasty downdraft attempted to shove the cargo plane into the turbulent ocean.

The module below was being thrown about like a cork. Virgil made the decision. “Thunderbird Four, I am submerging the module. You will need to dock underwater.” His fingers darted across controls as Thunderbird Two shuddered through another nasty downdraft. Below, the mechanics of Module Four started pumping water and it slipped beneath the waves to hover at a depth that would protect it from the turbulence.

“FAB, Virgil - Shit!”

“Gordon?”

“We have a pissed off whale down here!”

Virgil watched as his readouts tracked Thunderbird Four. She was darting, rolling and suddenly shoved sideways by massive lifesign. He grit his teeth, unable to do anything to help.

-o-o-o-

Three…she built up the fire pot until it was a massive towering flame.

Scott yanked the lever backwards and let off a prayer to the god of pilots.

Thunderbird One attempted to respond, and he grit his teeth. “C’mon.” Without her port thruster, getting her vertical was a challenge. “C’mon, damnit.” The extra weight dragged and she refused to stabilise.

The air was dark around him, but his instruments were screaming altitude loss and collision warnings, his cockpit lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Goddamnit, fly!”

-

Gordon swooped around the mass of angry whale. What the hell was his problem. And it was definitely a ‘he’, a full-on bull sperm whale, a very unhappy one.

He ran through whale behaviours in his head as he swooped and dove towards the habitat. A hand darted across his instruments, searching...

-

Alan hit the hatch with his fist in frustration. Grip, for crying out loud!

He was down to three minutes to get these guys out and he still hadn’t made it into the damn ship yet.

There was no sound in space, other than the scream in his own helmet as suddenly the entire side of the ship was torn away, a chunk of rock tearing through its hull.

The Claw spun off into space.

-

John bit through his lip, his concentration total on all four brothers. One hand played his holographic controls like Virgil played his piano, data shunted off to where it was desperately needed at the flick of a finger. The other spun between views, scans and acquired information at the full speed his highly advanced Thunderbird could manage.

“Virgil! Waterspout!” And the information was shunted directly to TB2.

-

“Waterspout?! What the hell!” Thunderbird Two groaned as he forced her sideways out of the path of the anomaly. The crosswinds were shit, and she dipped noseward. Damnit!

He kicked in her rear thrusters, killed the VTOL and tore across the ocean in an arc, circling around to return for pickup. She bucked like a rebellious mare.

-o-o-o-

Two...she grabbed all five doused candles in one fist.

Gordon swore again as the whale clipped him on one side. “Okay, I’ve had enough of this. Undersea Habitat Victor-Two-Zero-Romeo, I want you to kill all transmissions. All kinds. I want you silent as the grave.”

“What?”

He spun TB4 on her axis. “Now. If I think what is happening is happening this is your own fault, do what I say!”

He sighed as all transmission bands went silent. He scanned the full spectrum. No....no...ah, damn there it was. “I said all of them!” And it finally disappeared.

Another dodge of a whale fluke and Gordon peeled off in a curve.

-

Alan tasted blood. He had bitten clean through his cheek. He spun slowly in space, the ship in front of him sporting a jagged hole in its side.

Just big enough for an astronaut to crawl through.

Two minutes and counting...

-

Thunderbird One bucked like a mule, but he finally managed to get her vertical enough to fire her rear thrusters. Their plummet slowed.

The holographic ground was still coming up fast.

-

Virgil homed in on the module’s signal, finding once again his place in space. Lightning flashed in warning.

-

John held his breath. Seconds ticked by...

-o-o-o-

One...with determination she thrust all five wicks into the roaring flame of the fire pot. Burn damn you.

Scott yelled as his thrusters made contact with solid ground.

Gordon flicked a control and Thunderbird Four sung into the darkness.

Alan dove into the ship, calling out in desperation.

Virgil swore yet again as Thunderbird Two bucked.

John wished he could close his eyes.

-o-o-o-

All five candles burst into vibrant flame, the five merging into one, defying the breeze, taking on the energy of the fire pot and burning strongly.

Just as midnight passed over Tracy Island, Sally Tracy separated out the five candles and placed each of them in their holders. She smiled just slightly as each eagerly leapt up brightly, dancing.

“Grandma? Have you heard anything from John?” Kayo walked across the comms room towards the balcony where Sally had set up the fire pot. The breeze tousled her hair as it lay loose around her shoulders.

“Not in the last ten minutes.”

Kayo came up close and hugged her. “Happy New Year, Grandma.”

She kissed her granddaughter on her cheek. “Happy New Year, honey.”

-o-o-o-

Epilogue

As dawn lit up the sky on Tracy Island, the sun was witness to five very tired brothers flying home. Thunderbird Two had Thunderbird One grasped under her undercarriage, the severely damaged craft sporting a massive dent in her port side. Her pilot sat very unhappily beside Virgil in the cockpit of TB2. Gordon was asleep in the seat behind them.

The sky roared as the great red rocket of Thunderbird Three tore out of re-entry and spun in for landing.

She was followed by the ever-silent drop of the elevator from Thunderbird Five.

Virgil lowered his brother’s ‘bird to the side of TB2’s runway. He and Brains, and no doubt Scott, would be out later to assess the damage and plan repairs. As fast as possible. Scott was intolerable when his ‘bird was down.

He rolled his shoulders as he brought his own ‘bird into land. There would be no shortage of checks to be done on Thunderbird Two, either. Gordon was already complaining about the work to be done on both TB4 and Module Four, and he wasn’t even fully awake.

Thunderbird Two spun in her hanger and he powered her down.

All three brothers sighed.

“Debrief in ten?”

Scott muttered an affirmative and while Virgil ran through post flight, his brothers crawled out of their seats and headed up to the villa.

In the distance, Thunderbird Three roared as she docked in her hanger.

-o-o-o-

“The idiots were emitting random noise on a frequency that could have been designed to piss off a sperm whale. Once I had them kill it off, I dug up something that would interest, but keep that same whale calm, and I led him off. When he was gone, it was easy to grab the three idiots. We docked with the module, surfaced, and then had wonder pilot over here do his retrieval magic. I have to say, Virgil, that was some damn fine manoeuvring.”

Virgil blinked at the unexpected praise. Gordon must be seriously tired. “Thank you. I admit it wasn’t easy, but we made it in one piece. Brains, I will need to do some thorough checks on the grapple launchers and the module connectors, they were put under some serious strain.”

The engineer nodded.

Scott blinked as if he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Good job, Gordon, Virgil.” He turned to their youngest brother and frowned. Virgil followed his gaze and found Alan asleep in the corner of the couch.

“I can report for Alan.” John looked as tired as Virgil felt. “All the crew of the freighter were saved. In spite of the unexpected debris storm Alan encountered. Virgil, he will need a new Claw. He might have some modification requests on that front as well. “John yawned. “Sorry, full report will be available as soon as I’ve had enough sleep.”

“Scott, your turn.” And despite himself, Virgil yawned as well.

“I’ll keep it short. Stop doing that.” And Virgil grinned as Scott caught the yawn bug. “The GDF night camouflage is pretty damn good. I had a lot of trouble locating their craft. That problem was solved by said ship colliding with Thunderbird One’s port side. You’ve seen the damage. She’s down for repairs. We’ll know for how long as soon as Brains has a chance to assess it. Pilot was a lucky bastard and survived with only minor injuries. Apparently, the camouflage works both ways and navigation from inside the ship is extremely difficult. It’s back to the drawing board for the GDF.” And he spat the acronym. “Brains, you might want to check out One’s logs on what she could detect. All I can say is that Thunderbird Shadow walks all over them.” There was no shortage of smugness in that statement either.

Accompanied by another yawn.

“Well done everyone.”

They all muttered something congratulatory, punctuated by another round of yawns.

“Oh, and Happy New Year.”

A couple of grunts followed that.

“Get some sleep and we’ll look at throwing some belated fireworks.”

More grunting.

“Dismissed.”

Virgil stood up with creaking bones and stumbled towards the stairs.

And almost collided with his grandmother.

“Oh, so sorry, Grandma.” He steadied her with one hand, suddenly aware of four brothers lining up behind him. In the corner of his eye, Alan was wobbling with Gordon holding one of his arms to keep him steady.

Grandma grabbed him in a hug. “Happy New Year, Virgil.”

He startled and immediately returned the embrace, dropping his chin onto her head and holding her tight. “Happy New Year, Grandma.” He kissed her hair. His eyes darted to his brothers, all four frozen to the spot.

She let him go, but looked up at him and smiled, before darting to Scott and repeating the process.

Virgil frowned, staring just a little as she moved from one brother to another, wishing each of them a Happy New Year and hugging intensely.

His attention was suddenly drawn away, however, as, silent as always, Kayo appeared and wrapped her arms around him. “Happy New Year, Virgil.”

His eyes widened, but he hugged her and wished her the same. She smiled up at him and then, just like Grandma, moved onto Scott and, hugging him, wished him a Happy New Year.

Virgil simply stared.

Once all the brother hugging had been completed, both women stood back and Grandma started ushering them up the stairs. “Well, off to bed with you. We can celebrate later tonight.” She smiled at all of them.

Kayo’s smile was a little smaller, but just as genuine.

Virgil decided he was too tired to work out what the hell was going on. He turned and began to tackle the stairs. He would think after he had slept.

-o-o-o-

Sally watched her boys climb the stairs wearily.

They were home safe. Tired, but safe.

So far it had been a good year.

-o-o-o-

[anon-e-miss]

Touch of Sight - 11

A Cornerstone’s bells rang out calling the faithful to worship. Prowl lay on his belly, face buried in his pillow and listened to them ring. There was no mistaking the call of lesser temples for that of a Cornerstone. Minor temples had only a single bell in their bell towers, where Cornerstones had three octaves at least of bells that were not rung haphazardly, but in a score written by some ancient temple musician. He should not have been able to hear them at all, tucked away as he was in the market. Might the wind be blowing in just the right directions? With the haze of recharge still thick in his helm, Prowl listened. It was odd, he had never heard a Cornerstone’s call so clear and yet they sounded one dimensional, flat. There was something missing. Prowl stretched out his doorwings to “hear” a little better, only to realize he could not “hear”, could not “feel”, could not feel his doorwings, could not move them at all. He was blind, truly, completely blind. Imm. His audials heard his strangled cry as he tried to push himself up, digits clawing at the berth under him. He tried to reach behind himself but Prowl was not strong enough to hold him even partly upright.. His whole frame ached and his arms trembled. His voice was hoarse as he keened. A gloved servo brushed his helm and Prowl collapsed back down on the berth, the keen fading into a weak sob.

“Shh,” it was Jazz. Prowl felt the berth sag as Jazz sat on the edge. Prowl could almost feel tears wet his face, but he had no optics. He had no tears. Jazz’s gloved servo left his helm and covered Prowl servo. It took a long time before Prowl realized Jazz was writing glyphs against the back of his servo, only then did the panic roar fade in his help enough that Prowl could actually hear and understand. “Y’re okay. Y’re doors got burned in the fire. Ratch, my medic friend’s lookin’ after ya. He turned off yer relays so ya don’t gotta feel as yer sensors heal.”

“Fire...” Prowl frowned as his whispered the glyph, surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded and how raw his voice felt. He remembered. The madmech, he had set fire to the apartment, set to killed them all, to kill him, the mech he had declared a demon. “My mechlings?”

“Are perfect,” Jazz promised and Prowl prayed he was true. “A bit o’ smoke was all they got, Ratch made sure their intakes are good. Got’em in class. Ori thought it was important for’em to have a lil normalcy.”

“Where am I?” Prowl asked. His sentio-metallico still prickled with anxiety as the panic ebbed. He was blind, wholly blind but he was not alone. Still, his spark continued to race. How was he supposed to live on like this? How was he meant to care for his creations?

“The Celestial Temple,” Jazz replied. Prowl felt the scarred sentio-metallico of his face strain to stretch as he raised his brow ridge with surprise.

“Why?” He asked. His spark pulsed out of control and he trembled with fear. Had Smokescreen said something? Had they discovered who they were, who they had been? The Celestial Temple was not just a Cornerstone, it was the Prime’s residence. Why would paupers be brought here for medical treatment?

“It’s sorta Ratch’s home base,” Jazz replied. “He runs other clinics but his apothecary is here. My home base too. Seemed like the best place to put ya were ya could be safe.”

“There is no more danger,” Prowl replied. He rested his helm on the pillow. How had he ever mistaken it for his own? It was far too luxurious and its cover too soft against his scarred sentio-metallico. “The voices haunting that mech told him to jump into the flames.”

“Sounds like ya feel a lil sorry for ‘m,” Jazz said.

“His processor was broken,” Prowl replied. He was tired. He had only just woken up but he was so tired. “He genuinely thought I was a demon. He genuinely thought Primus and the angels were telling him to cleanse me. He never should have been let out of the sanitarium. Let me guess, they deployed mnemosurgery, erasing the voices from his memory and declared him fit?”

“That’s right,” Jazz replied. “How’d ya guess?”

“Because that is what they do,” Prowl said. “They address the symptom without searching for the cause.”

“Sounds like ya got some history with mneumosurgeons,” Jazz replied.

“I have a processor glitch,” Prowl explained. “Every time I would crash, they would erase the thought or feeling they thought triggered it. It took until I was a mech grown and could refuse the mneumosurgeons that I was actually able to learn to manage my affliction. I do not know what would have helped that mech, but I know mneumosurgery was not it.”

“Y’re a wise mech,” Jazz replied.

“Mm,” Prowl hummed. He turned his servo around around to touch Jazz’s palm. It was not gloves Jazz was wearing. His servo was covered it gauze. “What happenened?”

“Servos go burned climbin’ the buildin’,” Jazz explained.

“You were hurt saving us,” Prowl said, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. “Punch... he tried. The sheets I tied, they tore. He said he was going to try the stairs.”

“He did, they’d collapsed, he didn’t think he could make the jump,” Jazz replied. “If I hadn’t gotten there when I did, I think he woulda gone back in ‘n risked it anyways. Y’re bitlets are worth it. So are ya.”

“I am sorry you were hurt,” Prowl said. “I am sorry Punch was in danger because of us.”

“It was nothin’ ya did,” Jazz told him. “I’m just glad Swindle put more into that place than I thought. Fire didn’t spread near as fast as it coulda and when the floor collapsed, the walls still held.”

“I think he invested in the struts of that building and not the facade,” Prowl replied. “If he had done the latter, he could have charged more for the habsuites and no one would have thought any of it.”

“He did good,” Jazz said. “‘N I told’m that. He was there, when the fire was goin’. Helped me wit yer mechlings. He’s terrified o’ poverty. ‘N I understand why, since we come from the same corner o’ the Pit. Sometimes he makes bad choices but he’s a decent mech o’erall.”

“Are you bothering my patient?” A new voice, rumbled. Prowl flinched. He had never been easy to sneak up on. It had become even harder since he had been blinded, when his doorwings had taken the place of his optics. Was this how he was to live for the rest of his life? It felt unbearable.

“Smokey wasn’t bout to leave’m alone, ‘n rightly so,” Jazz replied. He did not sound as if he felt any fear towards this new mech. “I stepped out for half a klik to speak to Hide ‘n he was awake ‘n right terrified.”

“Fine... what did I tell you about using your servos?” The medic asked.

“They’re fine,” Jazz replied. “Ain’t putting pressure on’em or nothin’.”

“I have no faith in you,” the medic said. “I know better.”

“Ya wound me, Ratch,” Jazz replied, with a chuckle in his voice. “Ratchet’s the best medic on Cybertron, Prowl. He’ll want me outta the way to look at yer doors. Mind if I sit at yer peds.”

“If you have business to attend to, do not delay it on my behalf,” Prowl said.

“I got nothin’ goin’ on,” Jazz said. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t be more important than this.”

Prowl could not help but believe him and it was a strange. He should have been nothing but a potential new minion to this mech and yet, Jazz had brought him and his creations home to his originator, not just for a meal but for friendship and... for Punch’s approval. Rather than discourage any attachment from Punch, his originator, Jazz seemed to encourage it and... Smokescreen glyphs echoed in Prowl’s memory banks. Though he had denied it to his creation, the observation felt like a peculiar truth. When Jazz had all but danced with him in the field, there had been pleasure and warmth in his field. It made no sense. Prowl was not a beauty. He had been... simply unremarkable before the blinding where Nightstalker had been the beauty. Their procreators had called him the Jewel of Praxus. Prowl, he had been an udder disappointment. How could Jazz look had him now, with a mottled face with two empty pits and feel anything like attraction? Pity did not explain it. Heavy pedsteps signalled the medic’s approached as Jazz moved to sit at Prowl’s peds.

“I’m Ratchet, Prowl,” the medic formally introduced himself. “I’m sure the miscreant told you but both your mechlings are in good physical health. It’ll take them some time to process the fear and trauma. I think they were both brought back to the Cataclysm, especially your little one.”

“What do I do for them?” Prowl asked.

“What you’ve always done,” Ratchet replied. “Love them and listen to them. It’s done wonders.”

“I have not been able to help Bluestreak find his voice,” Prowl countered.

“Traumatic mutism is difficult for anyone to treat,” Ratchet said. “You gave him a voice with chirolinguistics. You’ve done more than a lot of medics would think to with that alone. You haven’t focused on his spoken voice. You empower him by adapting to his needs.”

“Ya done right by them,” Jazz told him.

“I’m going to change your bandages,” Ratchet said. “Despite your sensory grid being offline, you may still feel pain.”

“I understand,” Prowl said. He remember the agony when the farm’s creation cleaned his infected burns and applied dressings. Every dressings change had been a renewal of that agony, pain that had been worse than the original burn.

There was a throbbing pain across his back as Ratchet pealed away the bandages. It was unpleasant yes but nothing compared to what he had already endured. Jazz would be suffering far more with his treatments and Prowl felt guilty. He was relieved as Ratchet disposed of the used dressings, he smelled medicinal ointment, not festering metal. The odor of his facial burns had been a terrible thing and something he still smelled in his memory-purges. It felt more like an itch he could not place, that bounced all over his frame. Jazz brushed his bandaged sevo over Prowl’s ankle and it was grounding. Prowl smelled the ointment Ratchet took out to apply to his burns and distracted himself in separating the smells and narrowing down what crystals he believed had been used in the blend.

“It’s looking good,” Ratchet told him. “No infection. Luckily, you only suffered partial thickness burns. Most of your doorwing sensors should heal to within normal parameters. You may have some holes in your perception but your processor will fill those in so you don’t even notice.”

“That is a relief,” Prowl sighed. “I could not imagine how I would live completely blind.”

“Ya woulda found a way,” Jazz reassured him. “For the mechlings.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said.

“Are you hungry at all?” Ratchet asked.

“A little,” he replied.

“Good,” Ratchet said. “Punch took it upon himself to make a melon soup. He thought you’d be up this cycle.”

“Ori’s got good instincts,” Jazz declared. “Not feelin’ too banged up?”

“I am fine,” Prowl asked. “Sore. Just sore and tired.”

“Ya fell through the floor,” Jazz explained his concern. “Maybe it was a good think the smoke already had ya in stasis ‘cause ya was relaxed when ya fell ‘n that helped ya not too get too hurt.”

“I do not remember that at all,” Prowl said. “The last thing I remember is giving Bluesatreak to you.”

“Probably not a bad thing to forget,” Jazz said. “Important thing is ya made it out.”

[rocksandrobots]

Phantoms of the Past: Chapter 57 -Blizzards, Blackbirds, and Bargains: Part 3

Hiro frantically scanned the horizon for another way home while he tried to keep from panicking. He knew it was a hopeless search but he wasn't ready to admit defeat just yet.

“Baymax, are you getting any readings?” “The storm is interfering with my scanners.” The faithful robot replied after a pause.

Hiro gulped down his fear. Baymax was still with him. He wasn't alone. His brothers would find him.

“Let's go back to the controls then.” Hiro uselessly fiddled with the backup panel while Baymax continued his lookout.

It was a fruitless exercise. The power had been cut by the closing portal, and most of the electromagnets had remained on the other side so he couldn't restart the connection.

“Sooo… I need a generator and more portal magnets…” he muttered. The wind blew particularly hard after he said this, reminding him where he still was. He could have built those things in a few hours easily back at his lab, but here in the middle of nowhere? It was impossible.

Baymax interrupted his thoughts. “We should seek shelter. My sensors indicate that the temperatures are falling and your suit only provides protection for minus 5 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Hiro involuntarily shivered. “Yeah, and I'm sure the icy wind isn't doing your circuits any favors either. But where?”

“My sensors also detect a heat signature coming from that way.” He pointed in the direction of where the rocks had come from. Hiro gulped again. The last thing he wanted was to find out what had caused those monstrosities. The freezing wind however was getting harder and harder to ignore.

“Okay, but we need to be able to find our way back here after the storm.” He turned and patted the now dead control panel. “This is where the portal will open back up when Varian gets it fixed on his end.”

Baymax pulled out a roll of colorful bandages used for wrapping sprained ankles and such. Hiro quickly unrolled it and tied it around the podium, while Baymax secured the knot with an adhesive. As they flew away Hiro could see the bright purple and orange ribbon waving in the wind like a flag.

-----------------

"Oh,thisisbad.Thisisbad.Thidisbad.Thisisbad..."

Varian tried his best to ignore Honey Lemon's frantic muttering as he desperately worked the controls again. He was painfully aware that everyone's eyes were on him waiting for him to fix the portal. He was also even more aware that with every passing minute hope was slipping further and further away from ever finding Hiro again.

"It's no use." It was Sirque who finally stated the obvious as she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We need a new power source to get it running again."

Varian drew a shaky breath as he reassessed the situation. "O-okay, then we'll need to head back to my lab and grab the generator. The coordinates should still be in this system, so once we power it back up it'll open right back to where we left Hiro."

"What about those rocks?" Wasabi asked, clutching his injured arm. "Won't they just come through again as well?"

"Hopefully the rocks will have moved on by now." Varian didn't sound hopeful.

"Where would they go?" Fred asked.

"I don't know, Fred. They just... They just keep going. They spread out everywhere, but they won't double back around to the same place."

"How do you know that?" Gogo asked. Her voice lacked the usual sarcasm. She sounded genuinely worried, which only put Varian more on edge. Perhaps that was why his reply came out harsher than intended.

"Because they never have before." He snapped.

He fished out the short range portal magnets from his pocket. But as soon as a window opened up upon his lab, he heard Tadashi finally speak.

"How long will it take?"

Varian looked over to where his brother stood. Tadashi still hadn't looked away from the spot where the inter-dimensional portal once stood.

"How much time will it take to hook up the generator?" Tadashi asked again, still not turning around.

"I... I don't know. A couple of hours, maybe?"

Tadashi finally turned to look at him. His jawline was set in a determined frown. "And how long does Hiro have?"

Varian didn't have an answer to that.

Gogo spoke up instead. "It doesn't matter. The more time we waste talking the more time Hiro has to wait on us."

"What if there's a faster way though?"

She paused midway through the portal, one foot in the lab and the other in the snow, at that question.

"What do you have in mind?" Fred asked.

"Cardinist's scroll."

"No." Varian was surprised by the firmness in his own voice.

"I know what I said earlier, but th-"

"No. You don't know if it'll actually be faster and you don't know if it'll even work."

"That's why we need to try both."

That answer took everyone by surprise, and Tadashi lost no time in explaining his plan.

"Listen, you don't need all of us here to fix the portal. Some of us could take the scroll while you stay and work on it."

Varian pinched the bridge of his nose. "And how does getting half of us lost in the void help?"

"Okay, first off you don't know that we'll get lost and second, once you get the portal fixed then you can pull us out, provided that we don't find Hiro before you do."

"That's not how any of this works!" Varian yelled. "I can barely get the portal to focus on Corona, let alone the void, which isn't even a physical place! And you don't know how to traverse the seemingly endless abyss of nothingness to get to Corona either!"

"We need to try everything available to us. The more options we take the better chance we have of getting Hiro back."

"I'm with Tadashi on this." Fred spoke up.

Gogo rolled her eyes. "Of course you agree with Tadashi. You'd probably jump at any opportunity to explore an alternate world."

"That doesn't mean it couldn't help get Hiro back!" Fred defended.

"But... What if you don't find him?" Honey Lemon wrung her hands. "What if you just wind up getting lost instead?"

Wasabi agreed. "Honey Lemon is right. It's too risky. I vote no."

"Gogo?" Tadashi looked at his girlfriend pleasingly.

Gogo sighed in defeat. "You know I'd do anything rescue Hiro. And if you two idiots insist on jumping through a magical void to who knows where, I guess I gotta come along to make sure you don't get hurt."

"So we're three to three." Tadashi looked to Sirque. "I guess that makes you the tie breaker."

Sirque threw up her hands and backed away, "Oh no, this is between you superheroes. I'll help fix the portal, but I'm not going in there myself. And if you want to try some other way, that's your decision."

"Fine." Tadashi sighed. "Then let those who voted yes go, and the rest can stay with Varian as backup."

"No, that's not 'fine.'" Varian pushed back. "I'm not agreeing to that."

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to go get that scroll and try for myself even if no one helps me."

Both brothers stood at a stand still. They glared at one another for several seconds before Varian finally caved.

"Fine." He snorted. "I'll help, but first we bring generator back here. You can fool with the scroll while I work on hooking it up."

"Okay." Tadashi nodded.

-----------------

"A creepy fortress surrounded by a moat of lava... Okay, I think we've found the heat signature?" Despite the warmth resonating from below, Hiro shivered anyway.

The castle before them wasn't just overrun with the black rocks, it looked as if it was entirely made of the supernatural stalagmites. Hiro couldn't see where they began and where the regular stone walls stopped. But he did notice a door, a massive iron structure recessed under two crisscrossing black spikes.

"Well, maybe whoever lives here can give us shelter till the storm is over."

"I do not detect any life signs within the castle." Baymax stated plainly.

Hiro shrugged, resigned. "Then we know no one will will mind if we break in. Come on Baymax."

They flew across the chasm of lava and Baymax easily wedged the door open. Even though he knew it was abandoned, Hiro couldn't help shout out a timid "Hello?" as he stepped inside.

The ruined hall was as silent as the grave save for his echo. Lined along the walls were intricate tapestries, paintings, statues, and ancient artifacts like weapons and armor. Every now and then they would come across a door, but more often than not it only led to an empty room full of rotting furniture or rubble from caved-in walls. One or two even had massive holes in the roof and were completely filled with ice and snow. Finally the hall ended and they stood in a large high ceiling room full of shattered stone statues. Each ruined edifice was gigantic, as tall as two stories apiece, and not a single one was left intact.

Maneuvering around the massive dismembered stone limbs and eroded faceless heads, they discovered more doors leading to other parts of the castle. Most just opened up on to other hallways, but two proved interesting.

The first led to a seemingly empty chamber. The walkway fell away into a pit of black rocks and on the other side of that was a round black globe with holes all in it. Whatever it was meant to be, Hiro couldn't tell, but it looked as if it had been considered important by the people who had once lived there.

The second, and far more practical discovery, was the dinning hall. This room had remained nearly untouched by whatever disaster that had befell this place. There was a long wooden table with chairs in the center of the room. On the far end was a stone fire place surrounded by bookshelves and on the wall opposite from the entrance was a large glass window. It was by far the most structurally sound place that they had come across that day.

"I guess this is as good as any place to wait out the storm." Hiro said as he made his way to the fireplace. He was in luck. There were logs still left in the storage bin in the corner, along with a flint and knife. It took a few tries but he soon had a small fire going. Having accomplished this he noticed Baymax was reading something laid out on top of the table.

"What did you find, Baymax?"

"A letter."

Hiro curiously titled his head as he tried to read the faded writing. It might as well have been gibberish to him. "Can you read it?"

“Vsem, kto naydet eto proklyatoye mesto. Ostavlyat'. Seychas.”

"I meant in English."

"Translating." 'To anyone who finds this accursed place. Leave. Now. What you seek has already been stolen.'"

"Well that doesn't sound ominous at all." Hiro said with a strained laugh.

Baymax continued. "'I, myself, am finally abandoning my post and ancestral home. I have led this once prosperous land to ruin with my folly and have paid the dearest price. I have been granted a second chance however, and will be rejoining my long lost son shortly. Take what you want, but don't say that I didn't warn you. Sincerely, King Edmund of Umbra.'"

"Wait. Did the note say Umbra?"

"It did."

"That's where Varian's dad is from... but there's no telling how far we are from Corona itself." He then went quiet as he tried to think through the implications of this and what actions might be available to them with this newly obtained knowledge. 'Not much' he decided as his stomach began to growl.

"I am going to power down to conserve energy." Baymax stated, interrupting his thoughts.

"That's a good idea. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the sun will come out soon so that you can recharge." As the robot folded back into his charging mode in front of the window, Hiro was thankful that he and Tadashi had added the solar panels to his charger case a few weeks ago. They were going to need that if they found themselves trapped for longer than just a couple of days. And with that thought, he had suddenly lost his appetite.

How were they ever going to get out of here?

-----------------

"We got the scroll", Tadashi announced as he and Fred arrived back at the park.

It had taken almost an hour and a half to move the generator, and other half hour to grab the scroll from HQ, as Varian couldn't spare any more portal magnets. Tadashi was trying not to panic even as time slipped away from him.

"How is it going?" He asked as he knelt beside Varian, as his little brother finished rewiring some cables.

"It's going fine, but it's still going to take time reboot everything. Plus Sirque still has to reprogram the replacement magnets."

"I've gotten three done." The acrobat thief said. "Six more to go."

"So we're looking at another hour and a half at least." Tadashi estimated. "Then what do we do activate the scroll."

Varian shrugged. "Read it."

"I can't read it. It's in another language."

"But you read the mind-trap."

"Yeah, and I still don't know how I did that. Also it doesn't work with paper. We already tried writing the last inscription down and I couldn't read it then. It's only when I'm holding that freaky paperweight."

Varian sighed, like he about to explain something very simple to a child. "You wrote the inscription down with just ordinary pencil and paper?"

"Yeeeah." Tadashi said slowly, unsure what Varian was getting at.

Varian tapped the scroll he was holding."That's not ordinary pencil and paper. It's magic. Possibly the same magic as Cardinist's paperweight."

Tadashi grimaced as he looked at the scroll in his hand. He had come to distrust magic in the last few months, and he really didn't want to experience that same 'out of body' mind trip that he'd been through with the previous talisman. But, if it was the only way to save Hiro...

"Okay, I'll give it a try." Tadashi stood up and faced where the portal had once stood. "Do we need anything else? Like candles, or a chalk circle, or some ominous chanting perhaps?"

Varian gave him an unamused look. "Just read the scroll. Or don't. I still think this is a bad idea anyway."

Tadashi rolled his eyes dismissively, but deep down he couldn't disagree. Had it been any other circumstance he'd be the first to condemn such a risk, but his brother...

He took a deep breath and unrolled the scroll.

Fred and Gogo walked over to stand behind him, both decked out in their now modified swimming armor, as he glanced over the strange symbols before him.

At first he couldn't make heads or tails of them. He was about to give up and complain when suddenly he recognized a word. It looked like "Open."

Then he noticed another word next to that. "Gate."

The symbols hadn't changed, and yet he suddenly understood them. But it wasn't anything like translating Japanese to English, or vice versa. That took a little effort. He had to stop and think about the right words, change the structure and stuff when doing that. This just popped into his brain, like it was data being downloaded to a computer.

" Open the Gate,

Oh Guardians of Mortality and Fate,

Unwind Time and Space Into the Great Abyss

Where Nothing Lingers Save Death's Sweet Kiss.

And Make a Road where Once There was None ."

Honey Lemon nervously bit her fingernail. Tadashi was in a trance and his voice sounded unnatural. She could have sworn that it was echoing, but then, they were outside.

As he spoke the space in front of him began to glow. First it was a bright swirling light about as big as a softball, but then it quickly grew until it was taller than a person and twice as wide

The inside of the glowing circle began to change color, a rainbow of iridescent light shimmered and then parted to reveal the void.

The same nothingness that had entrapped Abigail for a decade. Only it wasn't entirely nothing. There was also a stone road just floating in space. It seemed to have no end to it.

It was only after the road had appeared that Tadashi stopped chanting. He blinked, as if just awakening from a deep sleep, and then shook his head.

'It... It worked?" He have gasped in awe and half laughed in relief. Then he looked like was going to faint.

Gogo and Fred rushed to hold him up.

"Are you still sure about this?" Gogo asked, as Tadashi leaned on her shoulder.

"Sure I'm sure." Came his automatic response, but he didn't pull away from her support.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Fred sang with confidence and than strode over to the portal. Only to stop short when he hit an invisible barrier.

"Hey! What gives?" He pounded on the magical wall and light waves spread from his fists where they hit, but he couldn't get through.

Varian looked thoughtful as he picked up the fallen scroll. He gave a hum as he glanced over it's contents.

"It's possible that the incantation will only work for the person who spoke it."

"Then how did the stupid monkey go through?" Gogo asked.

"It must not count as a person." Wasabi shrugged and then winced at the motion.

Varian pocketed the scroll. "Well we tried. Just as agreed. Now help me finish rewiring the cont-"

"I can still go through." Tadashi interrupted. He steadied himself as Varian gave him a warning glare. Tadashi ignored it.

"If the spell only works on the one who cast it, then that's me. I can use the portal."

"That wasn't the plan." Varian snapped.

"So we adapt. I just go on my own, and-"

"And nothing." Gogo said. "You're not going in there by yourself. It's too dangerous."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to go with Gogo on this." Fred agreed. "I'm mean it was one thing when we're all going together, but I don't know about solo mission."

"Guys please." He tried to step towards the window hanging in the air but Gogo held him back.

Honey Lemon also stepped between him and the portal. "Listen, we're all worried about Hiro. But if you go in there, alone, with no plan of getting back. Then all that will accomplish is us worrying about you too."

"Honey's right." Varian added. "At least with Hiro we already have the coordinates. There's no way to find you again if you get lost in there. Just help me with the generator and we'll get the portal up and running faster."

Tadashi looked at Varian's pleading eyes and gave in. Varian was right. He knew deep down that Varian was right. He had let panic cloud his judgment... same as the night of the fire ...

Damn it. When was he going to stop making that mistake?

"Okay... Okay." He nodded in agreement and gave Gogo a reassuring hug.

"Now you're seeing sense." Varian said and walked back to the controls. "Help me double check my wiring. I could use someone behind me with a flashlight."

"Ummm ... What about the big hovering doorway leading to nothingness just hanging here?" Fred asked.

"Leave it for now." Varian dismissed. "We'll figure out how to close it after we've gotten Hiro back. Just no one go near it."

Tadashi unfurled the scroll to read it again. "Surely the spell to close it is on here as well."

No soon did he say these words than did the scroll begin to glow. He suddenly heard various shouts of alarm from all of his friends, but they sounded distant for some reason. Then he flat something tugging on his arm. And it was strong.

Tadashi was being pulled into the portal against his will. One minute he was standing there, the next a flash of light, and then suddenly he was standing on the floating road hovering in space.

"Oh no."

[thephonemenarentreal]

Mysterious Fathoms Below

CHAPTER THREE IS OUT! Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three <<Current Chapter>>

Having a blast writing this fic <3 I just like hurt/comfort bonding and slow burns and friendships and found family things <3

Title: Mysterious Fathoms Below

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Bonding; Hurt/comfort over trauma; awkward small talk, hand holding

Featured Characters: Titan Speakerman, Charybdis (Sea Camera OC), Executor hanging out as baby semi-titan

Guest Starring: Whistle (@tabieeee awesome chief engineer of the speaker faction! Go give them some love!!) Summary: A chance encounter leads to something a little more, a little complicated, and a house divided as surely as Romeo and Juliet, with a touch of tragedy and yearning that comes under the terror of a war. Feelings of any kind though tend to grow in the strangest of places, starting with the simplest of playful meetings. CHAPTER SUMMARY: Maybe it is something about the sea that makes it easy to get things off one's core...and find someone who sees at you that you haven't seen yourself.

The patrol Titan Speakerman flew today was not the most ideal of weather conditions. High winds had picked up, driving the ocean upwards into a heaving mass of white tipped waves that rose and fell in larger and larger swells. Even for someone of the titan’s size and power, flying was made a bit more tricky in the face of such wild winds, which is why the patrol that day had been modified to allow him to be flying in the same direction of the wind to avoid having to battle a headwind.

When the winds picked up, it also meant the chance for bad weather to develop was a greater risk, thus he kept to a higher altitude above the clouds to avoid the worse of the sea-born squalls and rain showers. Usually having to fly higher up was not a big deal. He had plenty of communication arrays and sensors jammed packed along his frame, including an expansive GPS that easily helped him to tell what was going on beneath him. He had a near complete 360 degree view of his surroundings at all times to detect threats, something the other titans lacked. When it came to threat detection, the Titan Speakerman was good at being the first to be alerted to any sort of changes.

However, that was not entirely useful out here, at least not for hunting down the quarry he wanted to encounter. The shy sea camera’s electrical field could mess with his arrays, only giving him a vague idea that they were in the region, not necessarily where they were.

For that, visuals were best as the shadow of the mysterious sea unit’s outline was a dead giveaway, but harder to see among the waves and cloud cover from so high up.

The Titan Speakerman knew that it wouldn’t be easy to spot them and so far there had been no reports incoming of strange electrical incidents save for one naval ship’s navigation shorting out for a brief moment. The engineer on that ship had reported it as an incident of misadventure, not necessarily some electrical anomaly.

Things had been quiet for the last three days. Three days where the titan had not seen frame nor wire of the sea-based semi-titan of the Conglomerate.

With every missed sighting, every day returning to base empty handed with nothing to report but a few skibidi encounters from time time, the Titan Speakerman was beginning to think he wouldn’t ever see them again at all. The disappointment and acceptance of that fact was finally starting to settle in. Today more than others as he neared the end of his patrol, only an hour out from making his ETA and landing for the day. Not a single sighting of that mysterious semi-titan.

“Weather looks like it is clearing up ahead,” Whistle commented, “Will at least be a nice and breezy end of the patrol,”

“mm,”

“Thought that would make you a bit more upbeat rather than being as broody as Executor,”

“I’m not that broody, Whistle,”

“Getting there!”

The Titan Speakerman gave a low growl of his speakers as he started to coast down closer to the ocean, holding out one hand to listlessly trail over the white tipped waves, “Just disappointed is all. No sighting of that sea camera whatsoever,”

“Maybe the Pleasure Cruise moved on. They probably keep close to it,” Whistle reasoned, “May be back another time,”

“I guess,”

The ocean was starting to calm itself as the wind started to die down at last. Being so close to land, the usual change of the sea breeze would soon start to kick as the heat from the land rolled off and back out to sea. With the weather clearing up, maybe it would be a nice sunset over the ocean. At least that might be something to look forward to. Just as he was starting to resign himself back to base after a rather boring patrol, a slight tingle started to be picked up in his sensors and then along his form. The Titan Speakerman drew his hand away from the water as he felt almost like a small prickle of electricity jolt through his fingers. The titan paused, giving a soft warble and cutting his jets to rise up a bit, hovering over the water.

There was nothing at first, just the white-tipped waves rising and falling on the wide expanse of the ocean. Then slowly, a large shadow began to become more clear, slowly moving below in a lazy circle beneath the titan. There was the bright lights of the front of the face, peering up through the water at him, hesitant, guarded, but there.

Excitement was not an emotion that the Titan Speakerman could hold back too well. Before he could think, as natural as it was for a speaker to dance when pleased, there was a rumbling building up in his speakers, filled with eager noises that finally came out in a loud rancorous roar down at the figure below the water. Such a noise was one of excitement, easy for any speaker to tell, but such a loud noise clearly spooked the semi-titan in the water as they shrank deeper into the depths of the water until the light was barely able to be parsed in the fading light of the evening. That cut off the happy cry of the titan quickly and he quickly raised both hands as he dared to draw a bit closer to the water.

“W-wait! It wasn’t aggressive! I swear! I just was saying hi…!”

The sea cam didn’t come up to the surface, but at least wasn’t continuing to back away. That was progress. The titan hovered there, hands still up to appear as non-threatening as possible. He was excited and thus it was hard to keep his voice down or the want to make noise.

“So uh. Hi there,”

Three days to plan on what even to say to the unknown sea cam and he still couldn’t think of how to start a conversation. Nerves were starting to creep up and one hand inched up to rub at his lower speaker lightly in a bit of a nervous habit as he looked away, “Do you uh, have a name? I don’t think I caught it last time,”

The sea cam remained beneath the water a moment longer before slowly starting to come up to the surface. Only their head breached it, the lens, glowing a bright teal fixing on him quietly for a long moment before tilting away.

“Charybdis,”

Again with the soft voice that didn’t seem to match how large they were. So shy it was almost painfully cute.

“Charybdis,” the titan repeated, “Well, I’m Titan Speakerman, T-speak to my friends, but, uh, I guess you already knew that,”

“Maybe. A little,” Charybdis murmured with maybe a hint of a small laugh.

There was movement along their head as two small robotic arms just beneath began to cling at each other, wringing them in nerves. The titan gave another rub at the lower speaker, head tilted away. “So uh, you come here often?” Even to his own auditory sensors, the question was painfully awkward and sounded like something written for a horrible romance on the Hallmark channel. It had him internally cringing, mentally kicking himself for not trying to come up with something a little bit smoother to ask about.

“No. These are Alliance waters. I don’t usually come in at all,” they said softly, “Does that...upset you?”

“Huh? No! I mean, well, it would upset the Alliance I guess, but not me personally,” the titan stammered out, “I uh, was kind of, maybe, sort of looking for you?”

The sea cam just sunk down a bit, their voice somehow getting even softer, strained to a squeak of a mouse, “You were looking for me?”

The titan paused before holding up both hands, “Not looking! More hoping to run into you again? I wasn’t being like a stalker or something! Just sort of, last time was nice and well, didn’t get your name and it was bugging me!”

“Oh,” Charybdis sunk in the water more, just the lens peaking out, “Well, you have my name,”

“Yeah,”

The conversation was so awkwardly shy, the titan was wondering if it was too late to just dunk himself in the ocean out of embarrassment. Honestly how Whistle made this look easy was beyond the titan. Still he forged forward, giving a loud rumble of his speakers like the clearing of a throat and tried to look more suave, arms crossed, leaning against an invisible wall as he hovered in the air.

The very picture of trying to look cool as hell and looking like the greatest dork to grace the skies.

“What has you in Alliance waters then? Just you know, an official question there for reasons,” The titan said, “Since I am all official in the Alliance. As a faction leader titan leader guy and stuff,”

Whistle save him, he was sounding more and more like the most awkward bastard in the Alliance. His nerves were starting to creep up all the more, causing his fans to start to rev from the sheer heat of his embarrassment.

“Well, I wanted to see you...again. Maybe...do something like we did last time,” Charybdis said softly, although their words were muffled some as they ducked a little more down in the water, “It was nice...doing the chasing game with you,”

The titan perked up, giving another eager rumble that was edging towards another shriek that he was keeping down for now, “Yeah? Well, I liked it too!”

“Really?”

This time he couldn’t help the excited shriek of confirmation, although the titan quickly stiffed it when the sea camera ducked away again and a small crackle of electricity was in the air. A tingly thing that made his com array complain, but nothing serious.

“Sorry,” he said, holding both hands up again, fans giving a rev of nerves, “I uh, tend to get excited and get loud,”

Charybdis circled a bit before once more poking their head out, “...its okay. Sometimes I...shock things when I get excited or startled,”

“Guess we have something in common then, huh?”

“Maybe,” Charybids shyly dipped down in the water a bit, “...You...want to play a game again?”

It took so much self control not to just yell as loudly as possible. The most he got these days was sparring matches with titan Cameraman, and although those were fun, there wasn’t much time to just do something silly. Least of all given his size making it hard to play most simple games. He opted for a more controlled yelling and vigorous nod of the head instead as not to chase the sea camera away, “Yes! The chase game?”

“If you want. Or there are some mines down here the skibidis set in the deep waters,” Charybdis murmured, “With my sibling, sometimes I throw them in the air for him to shoot down, if you want to do that…”

The titan paused, thinking on the offer. Target practice was always fun but it was harder to do at base. Mostly because finding good targets for the size of his guns was hard to begin with. Add to that, him firing his guns around the speaker base tended to invoke a lot of trauma in other units. That thought had him wincing and that kernel of misery twisted just a little deeper. It had been a long time since he had been able to put his guns to work without being told off by the higher ups.

“I would like that,” he finally said, voice a bit soft, “I don’t get to do that much,”

“You sure? You seem sad,”

the titan speakerman gave a rev of his jets rising up over the water some, both hands out as he did a little turn in the air, “Not sad! Just it isn’t something I do at base a lot. You know, too loud and stuff, might make people think we are under attack or something!”

Or think he was going to kill them, the horrid voice sneered at the back of his mind. Just like he did before under the influence of that parasite. Quickly he pushed that thought away, not wanting to come across as dreary around what could be a new friend. Instead he gave a louder warble, revving his jets up to hype himself up more.

“Hit me with your best mine! I’m ready!” he slammed his two fists together and gave another loud cry.

Charybdis gave a nod starting to move about in the water with an eager rumble, “All right. Then get ready!”

The sea camera dove quickly, soon out of sight below the water. The Titan Speakerman hovered over the water before darting back as suddenly there was an eruption of water and a large deep sea mine erupted upwards. He was startled only a moment before he was lifting both arms, locking and loading to unleash a shot on it as he zoomed backwards. The mine went off with a loud satisfying boom, fire and sizzling shrapnel whizzing every which way. The titan couldn’t help a pleased shriek at that, darting away as suddenly several more were shot up out of the water in rapid succession.

The Titan Speakerman let out a loud eager shriek then, locked in and eager as he unleashed a volley and perhaps coasting just out of the reach of the explosions, enough to feel the heat against his heels, but be ready to swoop in for more of the mines being thrown up. Charybdis was moving below, the water parting as they gave a somewhat loud trill of their own as the jumped out of the water briefly like a dolphin, tossing up a few more before diving back down just as the titan dove, more than ready to get to each target. There was no telling where Charybdis was throwing them, keeping them both moving in the water in their dangerous game. If high command knew he was doing this, they would be besides themselves with anger and be ready with a lecture about the dangers of using live, dangerous ammunition as target practice, let alone having a unit of the Conglomerate be the one tossing them up.

One wrong move and he could end up blowing up a mine in his face which would leave him with some damages to fix. Still the thrill outweighed the risks sand he was more than confident in his ability to hit targets and get out of the way in time.

It was exciting to get to use his canons without worrying about hitting someone accidentally or being told off for it. The exhilaration had him pushing himself into rather acrobatic aerial maneuvers, up, down, barrel roles, backwards flying, upside down and in quick twirls, all while he was eagerly shouting and shrieking to try and be louder than each thundering boom of the mines as they went off.

“Oi! You okay out there?! I’m detecting multiple explosions!”

The Titan paused a moment at the worried sound of his chief engineer. No doubt Whistle had started to pick up on the explosions on his comm array and had grown concerned when he wasn’t reporting anything. Titan Speakerman titled his head as he mentally ticked on the com, his attention brought back to the ocean as another series of mines were tossed up, “I’m good! Target practice on mines!”

“Mines!?”

“Charybdis is tossing them out of the water!”

“Now hold up-”

“Can’t talk, shooting now!”

He didn’t want to miss a single target in the air, weaving about and shooting, letting out loud shrieks all the while. It was fun. It was loud. It was so much better than patrols or sitting around quietly in the base while everyone else got to make as much noise as they wanted.

The last mine went up in smoke as he dove down towards the water where Charybdis peered up, giving a happy little clap and louder sound, like a whale mixed with some sort of deep sea monstrosity. He responded in kind with another loud roar back, feeling a pleased little trill rumble up as he noted this time the sea cam didn’t pull back. Instead Charybdis seemed to rise up a little more, making a louder cry right back.

“So you can get loud!” he teased, crossing his legs, hovering in mid-air as he regarded the semi-titan.

“When I feel like it,” Charybdis murmured, growing shy a touch, voice still soft, “You fly so elegantly,”

“Yeah?”

“I like how you fly,”

A touch of warmth rose right into his core at that and he gave a small buzz of his jets, “Well, you are super strong yourself. You could really lob those mines up and out of the water,”

Charybdis ducked down with a warble of embarrassment, “...I have to pull ships and go to the bottom of the ocean. Have to be strong to do that I guess,”

“I can’t get in the ocean, so you have me beat there,” The titan paused, drumming his fingers a bit against his leg before he glanced over his shoulder, “You want to...find somewhere to sit and uh, maybe talk?”

“Talk?” Charybdis squeaked out.

The titan speakerman raised a hand to scratch at the side of his bottom speaker lightly, a low nervous hum escaping, “I would like to get to know you better. Like, your favorite things. Not just like...always playing around, although today was really fun,”

The sea cam sunk lower in the water, back with only their lens out of the water, “No one wants to know that about me,”

“I do and kind of hard to hover and talk. I mean, you can stay in the water, just...somewhere to sit and spare my jets,”

Charybdis gave a nervous warble before ducking down under the water a moment, swimming a few little circles before coming up, “There are some rocks along the shore with deep water pools in the direction you were heading,”

“Sounds good!” The titan shifted, lifting into to the air more, “Race you!”

And then he was off like a shot, laughing all the while. Within moments though, Charybdis was below him, keeping pace with him as they hurtled forward. As they did, the titan clicked back on his com.

“What the hell is going on-”

“Was playing a game with that deep sea cam. Their name is Charybdis!”

“Throwing mines!?”

“Shooting them from a safe distance,” the titan corrected, although that was a half truth. He had taken some risks in making them explode maybe a little closer than his chief engineer would approve of, but that wasn’t something Whistle needed to know, “It was nice to be able to actually do target practice,”

He could hear Whistle let out an exasperated sound, falling to silent for a bit, “Well, as long as you are safe and doing okay,”

“Doing fine. We are going to sit and talk a bit so uh, I’ll be late,”

“Don’t trip over yourself,”

“Trust me, my foot is already in one speaker already at this point,” the titan looked down at the shadow, giving a pleased sound and wave as Charybdis looked up at him before jetting forward, “They don’t seem to mind,”

“Well, just check in when your done and don’t stay out too long, got it?”

“Yes mom,” the titan drawled sarcastically, “I’ll be in bed before eleven,”

“Holding you to that,” Whistle returned, her voice amused.

The titan clicked off his comm again, a bit more aware of when it was on and off after an unfortunate accident where some things should not have been heard. He especially didn’t want Whistle listening in to his attempts at small talk less he need to try and bury himself in the field behind the hangar again.

It was not long to the shore, but it felt so much longer or maybe he was just that eager to get the chance to actually have a normal conversation. A voice in the back of his head grumbled how he was trusting too much in a Conglomerate, but at the same time, Charybdis had never done anything to harm him, never asked about the Alliance or trying to get at secrets. They felt safe. They also were someone who didn’t know him or what he had done.

A clean slate that wouldn’t judge him or bring up the past.

The titan speakerman settled himself on one of the taller rocks pocking out of the water, getting comfortable with his feet dipped in the water. He let out a louder ping of the area, looking around to see if there was any threat before allowing himself to relax some. Charybdis surfaced at the edge, daring to bring part of their upper body out of the water as they rested their head on their folded arms.

“I think you won,” the shy cam said softly.

“Hard to tell. Guess we will have to do it again another time,”

Charybdis gave a soft hum, glancing to the side, “so what is it you wanted to talk about?”

He gave a small shrug, draping his arms over his knees as he sat there, only giving a small glance downward, “Well, what are you into? Like...hobbies I guess?” he sighed, rubbing at the back of his head, “Or uh favorite things in general. Small talk I guess,”

“Oh,”

The titan shifted, letting out a quiet laugh, “Seems a polite place to start. I…” the titan speakerman paused, squirming a bit where he at, “Before like, asking personal questions and all that. There is a lot I want to ask you that is probably not really small talk?”

“Like what?”

“I think it would be kind of rude,” the titan let out a hiss of his speakers, shaking his head, “It is fine! I can ask-”

“You can ask. I don’t mind,” Charybdis tilted their head, “I’m not...good at small talk anyways,”

The titan looked down at the sea semi-titan before looking up and towards the horizon. The sun was starting to set now, casting a golden aura over the waves. The white caps glittered like they were covered in jewels washed up from the depths to be shown to the world for a brief moment.

“How do people see you? At your home base I mean. Like, do they see you as...just one of them or like uh,” he glanced away quickly, speakers crackling with his nerves and fans revving all over again, “a monster or something?”

The question had Charybdis pulling back some, some of the lights around their head winking on and off like a blink. The titan looked away quickly, “Uh, sorry that sounds kind of rude. Could go back to hobbies or something like that,”

“No. It is fine. It really doesn’t bother me,” Charybdis said softly, looking down into the water, the little hands under their head fidgeting again, “I’m a monster to those that have heard of me. Most don’t know I exist actually as I don’t reveal myself to many people,” they traced one hand idly against the rock the titan sat on, “Only my family sees me as just Charybdis,”

The sea cam glanced up, head tilted, “...why do you ask?”

He couldn’t help a laugh at that, tired as he leaned forward, resting his elbows against his thighs, hands held together, “People see me as a monster these days. After what I did,” he could feel the tension rising into his shoulders, his speakers rumbling low, “Wanted to know if it was different for you, outside the Alliance that is,”

Charybdis did the blink of lights before tentatively reaching out, hesitating before putting a hand on the foot dangled into the water, “I don’t think you are a monster. You are very kind,”

“Would you say that if I told you I killed people that I saw as my own family?”

The semi-titan hesitated, but didn’t pull back, “Did you mean to do it?”

“Does it matter if I did or not?” the titan let out a low growl, curling in on himself a bit, “It was a parasite. I lost control of everything, like being forced to shut off for days, not knowing what was going on for days in the dark. It felt like, knowing your body was moving, hearing the world, and all it felt like was pain, screams…”

His hands inched up to clutch at his head, one hand going to back of his neck as if he could curl his fingers around the parasite that was no longer there, digging into his mind, “Then suddenly waking up, not knowing where I was, seeing how many were dead, feeling every ache and those upgrades digging into me. I don’t know. I should’ve done something,”

Charybdis let out a soft sound, giving a small rub to his foot, “That sounds so awful, but it doesn’t sound like it was your fault,”

The titan shook his head, “I get many won’t forgive me. I wouldn’t,” he let out a sigh, both hands moving now to cover over the front speaker that served as his face, “Look at me, trauma dumping when we just met,”

“I don’t mind,” the sea cam, looked down at the water, “If anything, I can relate to that. Hurting others without meaning to,”

Their hand continue to rub over the foot, the small tickles of electricity sending a rather pleasant, slow sensation up his leg that had him squirming a bit but not pulling away, “yeah?”

“I’ve hurt people accidentally too. Killed others because I was told that was my purpose. I felt so bad about it and just...just stopped talking to anyone. Stopped interacting with anyone other than my siblings. If I just kept myself deep enough in the water and never spoke again, then I wouldn’t have to be the monster that my engineer made me to be,”

The sea cam sunk into the water some, now up to their neck as the leaned against the rock, “It is very lonely to live like that,”

The titan leaned forward, raising a hand, hesitant before brushing fingers against the shoulder struts of the sea cam, “Sounds like it, but I understand that feeling. Without my chief engineer, I think I would try to do the same thing,” he gave a small laugh, “But she doesn’t let anyone wallow on her watch, so she gets me outside as much as possible,”

Charybdis let out a warble at the touch, tensing, before slowly relaxing, leaning into it as if they had never had someone give them that barest bit of touch before, “I don’t think you deserve to be isolated,” they murmured softly, “You are very kind and I think there are plenty of people in your faction and beyond who still adore you. You fight so well, fly like an eagle in the sky and,”

The sea cam paused as they sunk in the water some, their voice growing soft again, “And even talk to a sea monster like me,”

There was a whir of the titan’s fans at those words, a spark of embarrassment and warmth. Titan Speakerman looked down at the semi-titan, letting out a soft laugh, “I guess it is easy to say those things about me when we just met a few days ago,”

The titan hesitated a moment before he extended a hand, nervously, down to the sea camera, “But I don’t think you deserve to be isolated either. You seem nice too, if super shy,”

Charybdis stared at the offered hand, almost as if confused what to do with the gesture as they looked from it and up to the titan speakerman, “Huh?”

“I don’t want you to be alone either,” he felt the nerves come up as he leaned forward, hand still offered, “So, uh, maybe we can just be alone together yeah? A pair of outcasts from our own factions, a pair of monsters to everyone else,”

Charybdis shook their head, “You aren’t a monster though,”

“And neither are you,”

The sea cam let out a squeak, sinking into the water. The titan just gave a little chuckle, “So. uh...do you...want to hold hands about it?”

“Hold hands?”

“What usually happens when someone holds out a hand to you like this,”

The sea cam did the blink of lights about their head, looking now to his outstretched hand and with some hesitance they reached over. It was awkward, more as it seemed Charybdis was not sure what to do with the small act of offered comfort. They brushed fingers against his own, then the palm, resting it some there, jumping when he moved to thread their fingers together. There was a shock, small, not painful and perhaps a tad pleasant.

Charybdis looked down at their held hands, the water churning around them as their fans kicked up the water in an obvious show of embarrassment. Not that the titan speakerman had much room to talk either with how his own were kicking up a tick more as they sat there, holding hands.

“Your hand is warm,” Charybdis stammered out softly.

“Yeah? Well you got a nice hand too. Really strong feeling, but delicate,” the titan offered back with an awkward laugh.

Truly his flirting game was unmatched, but the shy sea cam still gave a flustered warble, sinking in the water regardless.

“It is nice to hold your hand,”

“Well, can hold both of them if you want,”

The titan offered the other one, leaning a touch down towards the water, “No pressure,”

Charybdis let out a laugh, shyly putting their other hand in his until they were sitting there, holding hands. The sun was lower on the horizon, casting final warm rays up against the clouds and highlighting everything with rich colors of violet, red, and orange. Charybdis tilted their head, looking up at him as they let their fingers curl more into the hold, allowing it to be a big tighter, as if enjoying the touch.

“I’ve never held hands with someone before,”

The admittance had the titan letting out a disbelieving huff of his speakers,“Never?”

The sea cam shook their head, “I’m always...worried I’ll hurt them. Shock them by accident since I can’t control it at all,”

The titan gave a hum before giving a tug, making the semi-titan squeak as they were pulled out of the water some and feeling another jolt of their shock through his frame. A few warnings went off, but the feeling wasn’t painful. An obvious tingle and a hint of pleasure, but nothing he couldn’t easily handle.

“Well,” he began, now with the semi-titan now halfway out of the water, “I haven’t noticed any of your shocks yet. Right now, I felt a tingle,”

“Oh,”

They were leaned in closer now, enough to feel the heat coming off both of them, the loud hum of fans more than obvious. Neither one of them was speaking now. It wouldn’t take much to just lean in a bit closer at this point and leave only inches between them. Maybe less than that. Some wild thought at the back of his processors wanted to do just that. Let one hand trail up under the head to press against sensitive wires there while letting heads knock together and finally give a unit version of a kiss. An innocent little brush of fingers, but if it was returned, then maybe-

The loud bang of a far off explosion had both of them startling, Charybdis squeaking and trying to duck into the water while still holding hands, nearly tugging the titan off his seat. That prompted the sea cam to let go and duck in the water while the titan let go to keep from going headfirst into the brink, clutching at his perched like a spooked cat, on the alert.

He only began to relax when his sensors picked up one of the Alliance ships in the distance doing some sort of evening training game. The titan hissed out a sigh, noting he should have remembered about that happening nearby.

“nothing to worry about,” Titan Speakerman murmured out, “Not any sort of enemy,”

“Alliance technically are my enemy,” Charybdis murmured from where they had ducked down, hiding away again, “You and Circuit are the only ones that don’t...shoot at me on sight,”

Those words had the titan giving a low rumble of distaste. Rationally, there was no reason to be upset. Charybdis was part of the Conglomerate, a neutral, but not entirely well liked faction. There were treaties in place and technically, Charybdis was skirting those by being here.

At the same time, the thought of someone just shooting at another unit that wasn’t doing anything wrong had the titan bristling just a bit. Especially as he was considering Charybdis a friend. A friend who actually understood the mixed up feelings in his head. It was easy to share how he felt weirdly enough. Enough so he had just spilled it all out awkwardly the first time they talked.

If Whistle heard about that, she was going to sigh something awful and smack him with something for being so dense.

But then, Charybdis has shared right back and left him...seen for the first time in a while.

Like finally he could start unpacking all the guilt.

“I would never shoot you on sight. I might make a lot of noise, but that isn’t the same as shooting most of the times,”

“You are very loud,”

The titan ducked his head sheepishly, “Is that a bad thing?”

Charybdis shook their head, the little hands under their head fidgeting again, “No. I think it is...cute how loud you get when happy,”

The words had a warmth rising up in the titan’s core and he couldn’t help a louder thrum that started to peak up into a small screech. He was trying to hold it back, causing the sound to be more like a squeal as he leaned forward, arched like a cat all but ready to pounce, “You think I’m cute?! I think you are cute too! In that shy way!”

Charybdis let out a warbled then, ducking under the water deep enough that only the lights of their head could be seen. The titan startled at that before sinking back, “Sorry! Was that coming on too strong?”

The response back was a series of bubbles up to the surface of the water that had the titan letting out another sound caught between concern and also how cute that was. If he was more water-tight, he might just dive in after them. Instead, he laid out flat on his perch, reaching both hands down into the water, holding them out to the shy sea camera. There was a moment of pause before Charybdis moved to hold them against, giving a gentle squeeze that had the titan speaker warbling all the louder and give another tug to lightly pull them back up to the surface.

“I don’t mean to offend you,”

Charybdis shook their head, “I’m not offended just… you think I’m cute?”

“Yeah,” the titan looked away, feeling his fans creep up a notch, “And fun to be around. And the color teal is a nice color on you,”

“Oh...red is nice on you too,”

They hadn’t let go of where they were holding hands. There was something to be said about being able to hold hands of someone that was more akin to his own size. He certainly didn’t have to painfully aware of being as gentle as possible or risk harm.

He let his grip tighten a bit and give a small pull closer. Charybdis let out a warble, still so shy, but didn’t pull away this time. Their gaze fell down to the held hands, before giving a shy glance up.

“It is...nice to talk to you. I don’t feel like I’m…” their voice dropped to a soft whisper, “Inadequate, if that makes sense. Like, I’m not just a thing,”

“Yeah?”

“You said I wasn’t a monster. You are the first one to really say that. Even my siblings believe that, as surely as they believe themselves monsters,” Charybdis gave a squeeze to the titan’s hands, “It means a lot. Probably more than I can possibly say,”

The Titan Speakerman could feel his fans humming again and words once more becoming so hard to grasp. Tongue-tied was the human term for it. That inability to focus and find the right words to say. He was stumbling, but he didn’t let go of their hands, that touch was grounding.

A sure sign of the trust being shared.

“I don’t know if I’m the best person to judge on that, given what I did,” he managed out at last, “I can’t take back what I did. I nearly killed a fellow titan, wiped out so many of my own faction,”

There was a crackle in his speakers as he looked down at their held hands, “I know they keep saying it wasn’t my fault. The therapist says it. The engineers say it. The high command says it, but what does their words matter when I can’t see myself as anything but one? That I’m the one who can’t ever say it wasn’t my fault?”

“Its hard,” Charybdis said softly, one hand letting go then, tentatively reaching up to touch the side of one speaker comfortingly, “And I can’t say I have answers. I hid away from everyone and became afraid to be seen,”

The sea camera let out a quiet laugh, “Which I think makes you so much braver than you think, because you still let others see you and I didn’t see a monster when I first saw you. I saw someone who was free, a bit loud and overly eager, but someone with a very kind core who inspires even someone like me to maybe have a little hope,”

His fans were revving hard and his head was tilted, leaned into that comforting touch against the side of his head. There was a thrum of a purr deep in his bass speakers that he wasn’t even aware of as his free hand rose up to trace larger fingers carefully against the side of Charybdis’s head.

“I must be a good actor, as I didn’t really have much hope in anything,” he leaned in a touch, feeling embarrassed and warm all at once, “until I met you. Just even playing a little chase, I felt...normal again. For a moment. Like the whole world finally decided to let me be me again,”

There was an embarrassed squeak from the sea camera, another little noises that the speaker couldn’t help but chuckle over, but again, they didn’t sink away.

Maybe just lightly leaned into his touch, the lights around their head glowing a touch brighter in the low light of the nearly vanished sun, “I think you are wonderful...when you are allowed to be yourself,”

“Loud and all?”

“Loud and all,” Charybdis said with a small laugh.

They both fell to a gentle silence with only the rush of the ocean against rocks creating any sort of din. The world felt peaceful for once, like the war was a thousand light years away on some other planet and the two of them were granted their own little place of peace. The Titan Speakerman couldn’t stop purring, letting fingers trail over Charybdis’s head, being mindful to avoid sensitive wires. More as he didn’t want to rush anything, even if a part of him wanted to do just that.

The longing for far more touch and to explore that new burning in his core that was familiar, and yet also becoming something unfamiliar all at once.

“I should get back home,” Charybdis said softly, “I’m expected back soon,”

He couldn’t help the disappointed rumble in his speakers as the sea camera pulled away, but he knew well how tight schedules could be. Like the fact he was overdue and had turned off his communications and no doubt the whole engineer staff was worried, let along the chief engineer since last he spoke to her, he had admitted to playing with explosive mines.

“Could we meet up again?” he blurted out the question as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Charybdis shifted, considering the question before nodding shyly, “I would like that,”

“Maybe find a place to meet? Like, here seems nice,”

“We could meet her again,” Charybdis shifted in the water, “But might be a few days,”

He bit back the disappointed noise, but knew that was also wise to do so. They still were a part of different factions. No doubt high command would raise the alarm about him sitting around talking with the enemy. Not like they were sharing secrets.

Other than the personal ones they had both kept to their cores but now confided to each other. Their little shared isolation of feeling adrift.

“three days then?” the titan speaker put forth.

“That should be fine. Near evening,” Charybdis said, starting to push out from the rock, drifting gracefully out into the froth of the ocean more, “Maybe after your patrol so you don’t get in trouble for not reporting back,”

“What are they going to do? Fire me?” The titan gave a small chuckle, “Really there is little the Alliance can do if a titan decides they want to go out,”

Charybdis looked almost confused at his words as they tilted their head, “You just...do what you want?”

“Kind of. I still care about my faction and doing my part for the war and being their defender,” he said as he hopped up to his feet, starting to rev his jets, “But I am still able to make my own choices,”

“Oh,”

The sea camera fidgeted a bit, “You really are free as a bird,”

“Maybe. If I was really free, I would want to see you tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that,” he admitted with an embarrassed rumble.

“You would get bored seeing me so often though…”

He shook his head, “No, I don’t think I would,”

Mostly because his core was already aching at the thought of not seeing his new friend and he was not a patient titan. Not to mention something felt different. It felt like the first time he had been around Titan Cameraman to actually talk to him outside of combat. That warm buzzing feeling all warm in his chest that his chief engineer had teased was him having a crush.

It felt like that, but different. A stronger sort of buzz.

“Well, I’ll see you again,” Charybdis said, starting to duck into the water, “in three days, at this point,”

“Yeah. I look forward to it!”

He couldn’t help a loud shriek then of goodbye, excited as ever, although this time Charybdis made their own loud noise back, although it was still a touch softer than what the speaker titan was use to. He jumped into the air, hovering there a moment until he lost sight of Charybdis into the depths of the ocean, far below the waves and into parts of the world only they knew.

He felt light and heavy all at once as he headed finally back to base. The sun had set fully by the time he touched down and knowing full well he was...five hours past his ETA time to report. Already he could see a member of high command stalking towards him in a bluster with Whistle having to jog just to keep up with the long strides of the larger speaker.

“Titan! Report! And there better be a reason your com was turned off and you weren’t broadcasting your location nor responding!” the large speaker barked.

“Hard to talk to someone when you have someone else talking in your auditory receptor,” The titan said with a shrug, “And then forgot to turn it on while I was tracking something,”

The lie came easier than it probably should have as he stood there, arms crossed, looking for all purposes aloof and without a care.

The larger speaker for high command gave a dissatisfied rumble before looking at Whistle, “Does this match with the communication you had before he cut off?”

Whistle shoved her hands into her pockets and gave a shrug, “Sounds about right,”

She gave a pointed look to the titan and in return, the titan gave a subtle nod that had her posture easing more, “I maybe was talking his auditory receptor off about something when he had to go radio silent a bit. Nothing out of the ordinary,”

The High Commander let out a low growl before pointing a finger back at the titan, “I expect a full detailed report as soon as possible,”

“Of course,”

The high command gave one last growl of the speakers before he was turning on his heels and stalking away. The titan watched him go, giving a huff before moving to lower a hand to his chief engineer, “What crawled up his aft?”

“I don’t know. Our titan being late without any word?” Whistle drawled as she stepped onto his palm, “Am I going to get the full story then?”

“I don’t know, you going to tell high command if I do?”

Whistle snorted as she was lifted up to the titan’s shoulder, taking her usual seat as he headed towards the hangar, “I just covered you. I think it shows well enough where I stand on the issue,”

The Titan Speakerman gave a hum in response, “Then maybe I will once there are no prying speakers about. My official report is tracking possible skibidi naval units and it turned out to be some scramble signal we should probably make note of,”

“Of course. Just a little nothing burger,” Whistle said as she took out her tablet to start looking over his systems, “Nothing to do with the mines?”

The titan gave a small huff as he ducked down just a bit to step into the hangar and move to the bay for check in and debrief as well as system reviews before detox and cleanup, “Was just playing a game there,”

The titan gave a glance around, pausing just a moment as he saw the Executor off to the side, zoned out, although the semi-titan gave a small glance there way. It was still something to get use to having company in the large hangar, especially with Executor being a rather quiet speaker, unusual in that regard, and far too serious. The joke was Whistle had been too locked in while he had been under the influence of the parasite and it resulted in Executor’s more serious nature.

The semi-titan was not armed yet, still in his infancy as an actual unit with training well underway, but he also was not someone the titan speakerman trusted entirely. Not personally at least. Executor was more beholden to the higher ups still, more likely to side with high command over himself or the chief engineer. A kiss-ass is what titan speakerman would call him although Whistle would tell him it was more just Executor was a new unit still feeling things out.

Being a new unit was complicated enough. Being one of the first semi-titans and larger unit born of an AI getting a grasp on everything meant there was a lot for them to take in, consider, and make their opinions known. In their own, quiet, serious, somewhat blunt sort of way.

The Executor watched them for a moment before returning to the book he was reading, giving a faint grumble, “You’re back late,”

“Thanks for noticing,”

“I suppose you are going to give a report on why?”

“In progress,” Whistle said, moving to slide off the Titan’s shoulder and with a hop, jump to her station, “Doing the usual checks for a returning titan. Diagnosis first, check all systems, assess damages, then with permission, download memory banks to confirm details of already given report,”

The Executor gave a small, disinterested shrug at the explanation,“Ah,”

“Would you mind doing me a favor though and going to get some materials from the warehouse? Think I might have to do some hardcore buffering and replacing of some plating,” Whistle said casually.

The Executor was silent before giving a nod and rising to his feet, “of course Chief Engineer,”

The titan watched him leave the hangar before letting out a snort, looking down at her, “One way to get rid of the emo speaker,”

“Oh be nice. He’s practically your sibling given I had to use your code as the basis for his AI,” Whistle tutted, “I would rather you two get along than not,”

“He’s a-”

“I know you don’t like how he goes over our heads to report things to high command, but technically that is what a lot of units are suppose to do and I recall you used to be eager to yap about everything to high command if you got the chance to get praised,” Whistle swiped a finger over the screen of her tablet, “Give him time and he’ll start seeing the higher ups as having their own thumbs up their afts. He isn’t processor-dead and picks up on things quickly,”

The titan speakermand grumbled, shaking his head as he stared off, trying to be patient for the usual checks before he was free to go to recharge, “Sure,”

“So, while he’s away, mind telling me what was really happening out there? I really don’t want to be putting my codes in your memory disk to see,” Whistle said, setting aside her tablet.

The Titan Speakerman shifted, his fans giving a faint rev before he sighed, leaning in, “Met that sea camera again. Their name is Charybdis and...we kind of became friends,”

“Kind of?”

“Well, I mean, okay, we are very much friends, but, you know,” the titan waved his hand a bit, “friends who you kind of want to, sit a little closer with?”

“So like you and Titan Cameraman?” Whistle asked with a snicker.

The Titan Speakerman gave a loud huff, although his speakers kicked up, “I had a crush for all of two weeks!”

“Uh huh,”

“This is different!”

Whistle tilted her head slowly, “Oh really now?”

the Titan Speakerman gave a glance to the hangar door, making sure the Executor wasn’t going to wander in before he leaned in closer, voice as low as he could make it, “I really like them. Talking to them makes me feel...normal again,”

That had Whistle pausing a moment at her desk, her hand pausing on the blueprints she was double checking, “You don’t say,”

“They get me and they don’t care I’m awkward or don’t know what to say sometimes,” the titan fidgeted, “and unlike Titan Cameraman, I don’t know, it feels like they need me too? Like… me being me, is what they need too,”

The chief engineer looked up, silent before letting out a sigh and coming over to pat at one of his hands, “Sounds like you got the love bug bad,”

“...I didn’t open any emails that said I love you,”

Whistle snorted, “not that love bug,” she moved to jab a finger at his core, “Looks like your crush might be a touch serious this time,”

“Oh. Right,” the titan drummed his fingers against the causeway lightly, “Maybe. Yeah. I am..going to see them again. In three days. You know to catch up and hang out,”

Whistle was quiet, just giving a rub over one of his fingers with that sort of silent concern, “High command isn’t going to like you hanging out with a Conglomerate and I can’t say I’m one-hundred percent sold on all of this. Nice or not, those units have their own concerning features and quirks,”

The Titan Speakerman tensed just a touch, “Whistle-”

“I am not going to tell you what to do, going to set the record straight there,” she said firmly, “I see you as my overgrown yappie son, but you also are more than capable of making your own choices and,” the chief engineer let out a sigh, “I can tell this is good for you. Has been a while since I’ve seen you in good spirits,”

“I don’t want to worry you,”

“Being a chief engineer means accepting you worry a lot,” she gave a small laugh, “But I would rather see you happy than miserable, so guess on record, I don’t know a thing about you and your puppy love for a sea camera,”

The titan felt a hum of embarrassment again, his fans whirring a bit as he looked away, “Not a puppy crush. I just want to make them happy too. Like they make me happy,”

“Fine then. I don’t know anything about you falling hard and fast for a mermaid,” Whistle corrected, “And you are clear to go clean up and get to recharge and I mean recharge,”

The chief engineer pointed to her neck as she gave him a look, “I better see you plugged in proper or I’m having Executor put it in and be your emotional support speaker,”

“No,”

“You already share a hangar now,”

“And I don’t need him being a judgmental body pillow,” the titan drawled, “Bad enough you gave him the top bunk,”

“He’s lighter and that bed was built quickly so rather not risk your weight breaking it and crushing down on the new semi-titan. Pretty sure high command would throw a fit if he got damaged so soon after his online date,”

“I’m sure you got warranty on him,”

Whistle snorted, “Ha. Didn’t know you were getting a sense of humor like Optical,” she gave a shooing motion, “now get going off to recharge. You got a long day tomorrow running training simulations with the other titans,”

“Right,”

He slid out of the diagnosis seat and headed into the decontamination room, painstakingly getting undressed. With all the hardware and offensive weaponry strapped to him, it was always a hassle to get stripped down. However, it was required before every recharge, just to make sure all the ports were blown out of debris and everything cleaned up. Being a titan meant it was rather easy to get dirty from just stepping outside for a minute and with all the delicate circuitry and systems that went into a titan’s body, cleanliness was a top priority.

The hot spray of water was nice, followed by the automatic buffers moving into action to get scratches out and apply wax to maintain the finish from rust. He still hated when the air machines started off, always giving an unhappy rubble as they blasted out his ports and making him jump. If it was just warm water and soap with the massaging pressure of the larger spinning washers, he would have been fine.

The air was always the worse, especially at his neck ports. Without fail it had him making noises and trying to reach back to cover it as it felt too much like a parasite trying to get in.

Eventually the decontamination dinged and he was permitted to leave, grabbing the titan size towel to dry off her and there before getting into the recharge clothes. More simple clothing, less thick and more lose to allow more comfortable ventilation while at rest.

He flopped into his berth, once more pausing before letting out a sigh and picking up the recharge cord. He stared at it for a long minute before rolling over and tentatively raising one hand to feel about at the ports near his neck and resisting the urge to flinch away as he put the recharge cord in. the feeling of the cord going in had him writhing a bit, nearly ripping it back out with a sound of panic before forcing himself to calm down and just roll over, arms crossed over his chest, and try to get some sleep and ignore the feeling.

If he was recharged, he would perform better tomorrow in the training and the higher ups would be more pleased. That would keep them off his back during the long patrols.

Which meant more time to spend with Charybdis without anyone really noting oddities in his return times.

Three days for from now he could see them again. He just had to be patient.

He let himself start to power down, even as hie let out a loud wistful sigh.

Three days was going to feel like years, of that he was more than certain.