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wandering-pirate · 29 days ago

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When the moon fades, the stars guide

Part 1

Part two of "How does a moon lose its shine?"

Summary: When the chaos went down, what led up to it? And what will happen next in the dark, metal casements of the Tulpar?

Pairing: Father figure! Swansea x reader

a/n: ask and you shall receive~ thanks for y'all's patience!!

Trigger warning: Depictions of sexual abuse and violence. There are no explicit scenes of the rape itself but the trauma and experience of y/n is very much described. Please take care of yourselves while reading <3<3

Day of Departure

The Tulpar’s engines hummed steadily, a sound you came to think of as the freighter’s heartbeat. Three years on this ship, and it started to feel like a second skin at this point. But still, every haul gives you that faint, familiar buzz of excitement, like the thrill of stepping into something bigger than yourself. Responsibility.

You leaned against the inventory console, triple-checking your clipboard. Rows of numbers and codes blurred together, but the satisfaction of seeing everything in order made the strain worth it.

"So, you’re the famous Y/N," a voice chirped behind you.

You turned to find Daisuke, the new mechanic intern that Curly told the crew about. He looked barely out of his teens, his uniform covered with a bright yellow hawaian-patterned shirt that he somehow managed to smuggle and had a grin a little too wide. Newbie's buzz, you thought.

"And you’re the new grease monkey," you teased, extending a hand.

"Mechanic-in-training," he corrected, shaking your hand with exaggerated seriousness. "Big difference."

Swansea scoffed from the other side of the utility room, tinkering away with a coolant valve. "Big talk for a kid who just learned what a carburetor is."

"I thought it was a coffee maker for cars," Daisuke mumbled to you, pouting.

Biting back a laugh, you shot Swansea a grin that practically dared him to roll his eyes. He didn’t disappoint.

Jimmy entered the room, clipboard in hand. His presence had always been grounding, his confidence infectious. He nodded at you as he passed. "Inventory’s in good hands, as usual."

"As if you’d trust anyone else," you replied, your tone light but your chest warming at the compliment. He smirked, tapping the clipboard.

The ship’s intercom crackled to life. "Alright, folks," Curly’s voice boomed. "Buckle up, we're launching at five."

Your hand froze on the console. No matter how many times you’d done this, the Tulpar's jump during the launch always lit something in you. The co-pilot once commented how you're like a puppy with a treat dangling in front of you.

As a kid, you’d been obsessed with the idea of outer space. Not in a “memorizing star charts” kind of way, but in a way where you just admired them every night that you gazed at the night sky.

Whenever you see pictures of galaxies, stars, or any heavenly body, it was like looking at something familiar, something that made sense to you. The outer space wasn’t just an escape; it was home.

Anya appeared at your side, her medical bag slung over one shoulder. She flashed a small smile, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Let me guess," she said, her voice relaxed. "Gonna watch the Earth fade away again, huh?"

"Every. Damn. Time." You nudged her playfully, earning a laugh.

"Swansea's really rubbing on you with those words."

When the Tulpar lurched, you gripped the edge of the console, your gaze already flicking toward the viewport. For a moment, the universe stretched out in every direction, infinite and vast. You couldn’t help the grin on your face.

Out here, it all felt right. The stars, the ship, the crew… they all came together in a way that felt as natural as breathing. For now, at least, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

One Month After the Crash

When you thought things were about to get better the night you broke down, helpless, at the lounge... you were desperately wrong. Somehow, the man who betrayed you, the monster you treated as a friend, a mentor—hell, even family—claimed Curly's title and is set loose.

And now? You were cowering at the corner of the utility room, covering your ears as the voices outside grew louder with every passing minute. Funny how one voice made you gag and the other made you feel secure.

“Come on, Swansea. I told you, I’m not gonna hurt Y/N, alrig—”

“If you’ve got a death wish,” Swansea’s voice, low and bristling, cut through the tension. “Keep yappin’.”

It had been a month. A month of watching your back. A month of slipping between rooms, dodging Jimmy’s shadow, a sick game you were forced to play with him. But it was also a month of being under the mechanic’s wing, always having him or Daisuke by your side when checking inventories, because almost facing your deaths just days ago wasn’t enough reason to stop your job. Or being in the locked medbay with Anya when both your guards were busy.

“Look, I just wanna make things right,” Jimmy said, his tone too smooth, too practiced. “Curly’s out of commission, and now, as captain, it’s my job to take responsibility for what I’ve done.”

For a second, your stomach twisted at the pause. Would Swansea actually believe him? Could he? You strained to hear the older man’s reply, then there it was.

It started weak, the soft wheezing sounds went through the metal wall. It grew louder, rougher, until it was a full-blown, bitter laugh that rattled the air. Guilt filled your chest—why would you even ever doubt him after all he's done?

"What a fuckin' joke. Know what? If yer that desperate to play captain, wanna tell me how the ol' Tulpar really crashed?"

Silence. Not even a breath from Jimmy. Then, heavy, angry stomps faded down the hall.

For a solid ten minutes, you stayed frozen, your pulse loud in your ears. The air in the utility room felt thick, clinging to your skin. Then the door hissed open.

“That roach’s got some nerve,” Swansea muttered, stepping inside. His face was carved with exhaustion, but his sharp eyes softened when he met yours. He offered a tired smile, and you returned it, grateful.

"You shouldn’t be out here," Swansea grumbled, his eyes scanning the corridor as he steered you back toward the medbay.

"I’m fine." You tried evading him, but given his bouncer-like body, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Sure, and I’m the swan princess from that pink doll kid's show."

The Tulpar floated through infinite space, a shell of its former self. It wasn’t one of those massive freighters like the newer ones Pony Express had, but a running old freighter is infinitely better than a broken old freighter. Supplies were low, tensions were high, and the Tulpar's once-familiar corridors felt more like a prison than home.

When the asteroid hit, or so Jimmy claimed, Curly had supposedly saved everyone by making a split-second turn to minimize the impact. It was a story that gave the crew a shred of hope, something to hold on to.

But cracks already started to form in Jimmy’s tale. The damage didn’t match the trajectory of any known asteroid paths. The ship’s logs were corrupted, erasing any evidence of what really happened.

It wasn't farfetched to believe that Jimmy didn't stay put at his quarters when the crash happened.

Swansea has his suspicions. So did you. But neither of you said it out loud. The truth was a dangerous thing aboard the Tulpar now, fragile and very explosive, just waiting for the right moment to destroy whatever was left.

"Kid," Swansea’s voice broke through your thoughts. You hummed, "Don’t go doin’ that thing where you stare off into space like a lost puppy."

You managed a weak smile. "Can’t help it. Space is kinda my thing."

He snorted, but his eye-roll was absent. He didn’t let you go until he was sure you were back in the medbay, under Anya’s watchful eye and the door's lock.

2 Months before the Crash

Jimmy’s compliments had always felt harmless. You were used to his jokes, his easy smiles, and the way he called you "kid". It was comforting, in a way - until recently.

"Nice shirt," he said one day, leaning casually against the inventory shelves as you logged spare parts into the system.

You glanced down at your standard-issue disgustingly yellow t-shirt, streaked with dust and grease from helping Swansea earlier. "Uh, thanks? Didn’t know grease-stained chic was trending."

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You pull it off, though."

You gave him a half-smile, feeling like the co-pilot has something more to say than he's letting on. His tone felt... heavier. You chalked it up to overthinking and turned back to your work. Jimmy was your friend, someone you’d always trusted.

But somehow, the comments became more frequent, more pointed. A hand on your shoulder lingered too long. Always looking at you when he laughs.

The next time it happened, you were helping the mechanic in the engine room. You crouched next to him, handing over tools as he muttered under his breath about "cheap replacement parts." The rhythmic clank of the wrench echoed in the space while Daisuke watched because the last time he helped replace something, he had to receive 3 stitches from Anya.

"Careful not to scratch the paint off," you teased, smirking.

Swansea snorted, rolling his eyes. "Look who's talkin', Ms. 'I-can-make-any room-look-like-a-fukin' junkyard' with all the shit you leave laying around."

"Ha! Boss' got you there Y/N!" You poked your tongue out at the intern.

Swansea gave you a sideways glance, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You wanna talk about paint? Maybe start by remembering where you put all yer inventory sheets before I have to staple ‘em to yer forehead."

You laughed, wiping your hands on your coveralls, when Jimmy walked in. His gaze lingered too long as he leaned against the doorway.

"Got the inventory finished?" he asked, his voice casual.

"Mostly," you said. "Swansea needed a hand, so I figured I’d multitask."

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed briefly, just a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place. His smile returned, too quick to feel natural. "You’re a real team player, kid."

Swansea grunted in agreement, not looking up. "She’s handy, I’ll give her that. Saved me a headache with these damn filters."

"Hey! I'm here, to--"

"Tell me what happened to yer forehead with just a screwdriver, boy." That seemed to silence Daisuke up.

Jimmy’s jaw tightened, his hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, though he quickly masked it with a chuckle. "Better not let her show you up, old man."

"Not a chance," Swansea shot back, oblivious to the tension.

But you felt it. The way Jimmy’s smile didn’t match his eyes, the way his presence filled the room like static. Something about it was off. You wanted to brush it aside, but the feeling lingered.

Later, in the lounge, Curly tossed you a cup of coffee. "Heard you’ve been pulling double duty with the inventory and the utility. You gunning for my job or what?"

You smirked, shaking your head. "Dream bigger, Curly. I’m aiming for Swansea’s."

Curly laughed, but his attention shifted behind you for a moment. You glanced over your shoulder to see Jimmy standing in the doorway again, watching. His posture was casual, but his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the counter.

When you turned back, Curly raised an eyebrow. "Jimmy’s been hovering a lot lately. You notice that?"

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "He’s probably just bored."

But deep down, you weren’t so sure. You sipped your coffee, forcing a laugh. "One more compliment from him? I’m charging him rent."

Curly chuckled, but his smile faded slightly as he glanced at Jimmy again. "You should tell him that. See what he says."

You smiled weakly, staring into your coffee as the unease settled in your chest.

One Month Before the Crash

Jimmy’s words echoed in your ears, wrapping around your thoughts like a noose.

"I don’t want to hurt you," he said, his voice trembling, his breath uneven. "But I can’t stop thinking about you."

You remembered the way his hands shook, how his eyes flitted between you and the walls, never meeting yours. He looked like he wanted to convince himself as much as you. But it wasn’t the shaking or his words that lingered in your mind, it was the suffocating fear, the way the air in the room thickened, pressing down on your chest until you couldn’t breathe.

You fought back, kicked, punched, scratched, used everything in your disposal, but it wasn't enough.

In that moment, the world felt unrecognizable. The Jimmy you looked up to, trusted, and even laughed with, was gone. Or maybe he had never been real.

And you felt something within you... break.

You didn’t cry. Not then. The betrayal was too sharp, cutting through your chest like shards of glass. You couldn’t feel anything but the raw, jagged edges of shock and pain. It was never-ending, it was unforgiving.

Later, when it was over and the room was silent again, you sat on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the dull metal wall. The memories replayed in your head, over and over, a loop you couldn’t escape.

"Why didn’t I stop him?"

"Why didn’t I fight harder?"

"Why didn’t I say something?"

The questions bit you, each one sinking its sharp fangs deeper into your guilt, into your body, mind, and soul.

Jimmy’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts. You remembered how he sat across from you, his voice low and soft, as though he were the one wounded.

"I didn’t mean for it to go like this," he’d said, his tone almost pleading. "You don’t have to hate me, you know? I care about you. I just… I just couldn’t hold it in anymore."

Each word sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through you. The confusion was unbearable. Was he sorry? Or was this another lie? Another betrayal? It didn’t matter. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him or yourself anymore.

And from that night on, everything you loved about your life on the ship, the crew, the stars outside your window, even your own reflection, felt like it died.

You went through the days like a ghost. Your laughter was gone, replaced by silence. Meals went untouched. The inventory, your pride and responsibility, piled up unchecked.

The crew noticed. How Swansea’s gruff teasing didn’t make you laugh anymore. How Daisuke’s bad jokes only entered your ear and exited the other. And every time Jimmy walked into the room, your body froze, your skin crawling as though his gaze alone could trap you again.

Anya, however, never pried. She saw through the silence, the robotic movements, the emptiness in your eyes.

One evening, she's nursing you. You sat on the cot, staring at the floor, your hands limp in your lap. You passed out from hunger earlier and Dasiuke had to carry you to the medbay, sweating and frantically assuring himself more than anyone through panicked mumbles.

She approached quietly, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand. "Y/N," she said softly, placing the tray beside you.

You didn’t respond.

Anya pulled up a chair and sat down across from you, her gaze steady. "You have to eat."

"I’m not hungry," you murmured, your voice flat.

She didn’t push. Instead, she reached out, her hand resting gently on your arm. Her warmth cut through the cold numbness you’d wrapped yourself in.

"You know, it’s okay to feel like this," she said quietly. Her tone wasn’t pitying, just kind. "But you don’t have to do it alone."

You didn’t react. You couldn’t. Her words were like waves breaking against a stone, unable to reach its core.

Anya stayed with you anyway. She talked softly, about nothing in particular, old stories, small jokes, telling you how Daisuke stole Swansea's snacks and having to say I'm sorry for a hundred times as punishment. She didn’t expect you to respond. She was simply there, filling the silence with her presence.

Even when you retreated deeper into yourself, Anya never gave up. She left food by your workstation, tidied your quarters when you weren’t looking, and covered for you when Curly asked too many questions.

One night, as Anya walked you back to your quarters, she stopped just outside your door. Her voice, usually gentle, held a weight you hadn’t heard before.

"Y/N," she began carefully, "I’ve been where you are."

Your steps faltered. The numbness you carried didn’t lift, but her words sent a faint ripple through the sea of numbess. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, your hand tightening on the doorknob.

"I know what Jimmy did to you," she continued softly.

The air in the hallway felt suddenly heavy. Anya hesitated, then added, "It happened to me too. Weeks ago."

The words were like a thunderclap in your mind, sharp and deafening. You turned to her, your eyes wide with disbelief.

"You knew?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, raw and cracking. Anya went through the same thing yet here she is, stronger than you, caring for you. Your stomach churned in guilt. "You—why didn’t you tell anyone? Tell me?"

Anya’s expression didn’t falter, but her shoulders tensed as though she’d been bracing for this. "I told Curly," she admitted, her voice quiet but steady. "But… nothing changed."

Nothing changed.

The words hit like a sledgehammer, shattering the fragile threads of hope you’d been clinging to. Your chest tightened as anger and despair fought for control.

"You told him," you whispered, the words trembling with a pain that reached far deeper than you’d let anyone see.

Anya didn’t look away. She didn’t try to explain or justify it. "I thought it would help," she said, her tone even. "I thought it would stop."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and hollow. "And now it’s my turn, right? Cap kept quiet and hoped it wouldn’t happen again?"

"Y/N--"

"Now what, Anya?" You snapped, your voice rising despite the lump in your throat. "What was the point of telling him if it didn’t change anything? He was supposed to be the captain, he was supposed to protect his crew. And no it didn’t stop tha--"

Your words broke off as your breath hitched. The weight of it all, Jimmy’s betrayal, Curly’s silence, Anya’s quiet endurance, crashed down on you like a tidal wave.

Anya reached out, her hand brushing against your arm, but you pulled away.

"I can’t—" you choked out, shaking your head as tears blurred your vision. "Sorry Anya, can I be alone for a moment? Please, don't look for me."

The hallway felt too small, the air too thick. You stumbled back, your legs moving on instinct as you fled toward the lounge, where the empty silence swallowed you whole.

This was where it all unravelled like a predator ripping meats of its prey piece by agonizing piece.

The knife in your trembling hand, the memories replaying in your mind, the feeling of the world collapsing around you, all of it led back to this moment. To the truth you could no longer ignore.

The one person you thought could protect you knows - and he did nothing.

Two Months After the Crash

The cargo bay was dimly lit, the faint hum of the ship's remaining systems filling the silence.

Jimmy had been relentless over the past week, pestering Swansea to let him talk to you about the cargo. Why? Well unlike any other facilities of the freighter that's unlocked by codes visible through the Captain's flashlight, the cargo bay can only be unlocked by a code held by two crewmembers - the captain and inventory officer. Obviously, with Curly laying helpless in the medbay, Jimmy only had one person left to disturb. And the man grabbed the opportunity to talk to you again.

Exhausted, that’s what you were. Tired of Jimmy's persistence, of how he kept shifting from casual then cutting sharper the next. And all these bugging went straight to Swansea. As much as you didn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction, you knew there was no way around it - you gave in, but not for Jimmy. You did it for the mechanic.

“Are you sure about this?” Swansea asked earlier, his voice low but heavy. The lines on his face deepened as he watched you wrestle with the decision.

You nodded, though your stomach twisted at the thought. “Jimmy’s not going to stop bugging you about it, and you’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll deal with him.”

The mechanic grumbled something under his breath, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. You shouldn’t have to deal with him at all.”

“I know,” you’d said softly. “But he’s not going to stop. And… I’ll have you and Daisuke with me. It’ll be fine.”

Swansea did not looked convinced, but he eventually relented, only after you promised he could stay nearby, just in case.

Now, standing in front of the cargo bay's doors with Jimmy pacing in front of you, you were keenly aware of Swansea’s presence by the door. A silent guard, his watchful eyes never leaving the co-pilot. Daisuke was at your side, arms crossed and radiating quiet protectiveness, like a little brother who didn’t care how big a fight he might have to pick if it meant keeping you safe.

Jimmy, oblivious or indifferent to the tension, took a step forward, his movements quick but not careless. “Y/N, I know you’ve been keeping tabs on the cargo. But it’s been two months. We need to know what’s in there. It could help us—”

“It won’t,” you interrupted, your voice steady but firm. “I’ve told you before, Jimmy. It’s nothing important. We'll just waste our time."

Jimmy’s jaw tightened. “Leave that up to me to decide whether what's in there is important or not."

Swansea cursed under his breath and your lips pressed in a thin line, but the man's gaze didn’t waver.

Daisuke took a step forward. “She’s not wrong. Y/N wouldn’t hide anything if it could help. She knows what she’s doing, Jimmy.”

Jimmy scoffed. “I’m just saying—if there’s even a chance, we should check. We’re running out of options here.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Fine,” you said, exasperated. “You want to see it so badly? Go ahead. Open it. But when you'll find out I’m right, I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Daisuke frowned but didn’t say anything, glancing at you like he wanted to intervene but knew better than to push. Instead, he stepped closer to your side, his quiet presence grounding you.

Jimmy’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as though he’d won some kind of victory. “Thanks, the code?” he muttered, moving toward the cargo bay doors. Swansea was already there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze locked on Jimmy.

“She said yes,” Jimmy said defensively as he approached, but Swansea didn’t move.

“She shouldn’t have to,” Swansea muttered under his breath, stepping aside only when you gave him a small nod.

"4517" The pad beeped with each number you tell him. The entrance hissed open, like a dragon waking up from its deep slumber.

The cargo bay was dim, the rows of hundreds of boxes towered over all of you. You followed Jimmy inside, Daisuke sticking close to you while Swansea lingered by the door.

The co-pilot walked straight to the nearest box, his movements quick and eager. “Let’s see what’s so ‘unimportant,’” he muttered.

As the box was pried open, the sharp, clinical smell hit instantly.

Mouthwash.

Jimmy froze, staring down at the neatly packed bottles as if they might suddenly transform into something else. Daisuke peered over his shoulder, his eyebrows raising. “Huh. Well, that’s… useful,” he said.

Jimmy’s face burned as he looked back at you. “This is it? You’re telling me this is all we’ve been hauling?”

“I told you. Nothing important. But you couldn’t take my word for it, could you? You know what's funny, Jimmy?" You balled your hands on your sides, "I should be the one not trusting you, after what you've done."

Jimmy stood there, eyes narrowing and jaw clenched. For a moment, it looked like he was gearing up to argue. But it was all so painfully obvious, the desperation in his stance. He wanted to paint himself as the victim, again, to make excuses, again, as if he wasn’t already a pathetic excuse for a man.

You glanced at the box, the sight of the neatly labeled bottles almost comical in its absurdity, mocking the co-pilot. Then your eyes landed at him, his confidence snapping under the weight of his proud insistence.

“Satisfied now?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the tension like a knife. Without waiting for an answer, you turned your back. “This is your answer, Jimmy...”

For the first time since the crash, you felt something crack open inside you, not fear, not guilt, but anger. Controlled, righteous anger.

"We don’t survive by hunches or waiting for some fucking miracle," you spat. "We survive because people are actually out here making sure the Tulpar doesn’t fall apart."

Your eyes met Swansea's, then to the ground.

"Everyone pitches in, does what needs to be done, no matter how much of a death trap the job is. But if you’re too busy playing pretend captain while the rest of us are holding it all together, maybe it’s better that you step back and let the people who actually know how to keep this mess running do their thing."

You didn't wait for a response, not even tried to gauge his emotion. You left the cargo bay, going into the only place that gave you comfort, utility room.

Swansea appeared in the doorway. Before he could speak, before you could even gather your thoughts, you found yourself moving toward him. The words caught in your throat, but your legs carried you anyway, and in one swift motion, you collided with him in a tight hug. The kind you hadn’t realized you needed until the warmth of his body pressed against you.

“Thanks for everything," You paused, and before you could stop it, the words slipped out. "...dad."

For a moment, everything went still. The hum of the damaged Tulpar only filling the air, and for one fleeting second, you feared you said too much. That you crossed a line, said something you didn’t have the right to say.

But then, without a word, his arms wrapped around you, solid and sure, holding you like he was never going to let go. The tension in your chest slowly released and a stray tear rolled down your cheek.

“Always, kid.” His voice was low, thick with meaning, and at that moment, it held everything you needed to hear.

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yayasvalveplay · 16 days ago

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Alright So i finished up this ask. but I, may have changed a few things from the original idea.

anyways have 1,279 words of soundstar smut.

_______________

"Negative."

"No!?" Starscream shouts, his servos flat on Soundwaves desk, leaning in as closely as he could on shaky legs.

"I didn't just walk all the way here from our hub just to be told no! Why?" He was acting like a little kid, he knew he was, but in his horny processor he really didn't care.

"Soundwave: Still on shift." The mech said, not looking up from the data pad he'd been reading from. Completely ignoring the seeker in front of him.

"So get out of the shift. Tell that bucket head of a boss that you are going on a joor break." Starscream lets himself drop. Putting his pedals back firmly on the ground. Before not so subtly stretching his legs out so Soundwave could see the lubricant dripping from his valve. Coating his inner thighs.

That got Soundwave to look up at him. His visor was darker giving the red seeker no way to tell where he was looking, but he hoped it was where he wanted the Intel bot to be looking.

"Negative: minus one bot. Soundwave picking up the slack."

"It isn't my fault my heat hit at the worst possible time!" He closed his legs, feeling offended that still Soundwave wasn't taking the bait, and actively steering the conversation away from where Starscream wanted it to go.

"Fine. I guess I'll go and be miserable in our hub, whining, and pleading for your spike." He said turning around. Before a devilish idea popped into his helm.

"Or, maybe the Autobots would be willing to take this poor heat off of me. I think Skyfire wouldn't say no if I asked."

That got him the reaction he wanted from his mate. Soundwave standing up quickly, his vision bright with anger. Leaning forward he grabbed Starscream's servo, pulling him back towards the desk.

"Starscream: Will do no such thing."

"Oh and how is Mr. Busy bot going to stop me from just walking to the autobot base?" He knew he shouldn't be teasing Soundwave like this, it was not right to tease him about returning to his ex.

"Soundwave: will help-" He pulled Starscream around the desk, the seekers engine purring as he followed. He sat back down on his chair before continuing. "- On one condition."

Soundwave waited to see the confirmation that Starscream would indeed listen to his demands. He sent the commands to slip his mask off, revealing it to his mate who leaned in forward to capture it into a kiss.

Soundwave however blocked it with his servo. " You will ride my leg while I finish up this paperwork."

"Ride your leg!? Like I'm some cheap shareware. Soundwave you are a cruel Conjunx." Starscream whined, trying to pull away, but was effectively stopped by Soundwaves servos still holding into his arm.

"Those are my terms, Star. Ride me until I'm finished. Or be locked in our hub suit until I'm finished." Giving no escape, no indication that there would be a secret third option, because there will never be a secret third option.

"Wow, not even giving me a chance to sneak away to the autobots are we?"

"I'm your conjunx, I'm the one who has a vial of your innermost energon. Not that shuttle autobot you once called a science partner." He was getting angry. Real anger and not the anger Starscream had wanted for him.

He was just teasing. He was pent up. He just wanted Soundwaves spike.

But not like this. Not when he was fuming with rage. Starscream lowered himself to sit on Soundwave's left leg.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, a few stray coolant running down his optics. Soundwave's anger immediately vanished, he pulled Starscream in closer, holding him, not wishing to let him go.

They stayed like that for perhaps 10 minutes, maybe it was more. But in the end, Soundwave leaned forward, giving Starscream a light peck on the lips. One, two, before capturing it into a deep hungry kiss.

Starscreamed moaned into the kiss, rubbing his close valve panel on his leg, scraping the lighting blue on silver, before all together letting it slide back. He lifted himself only a few millimeters to get his valve spread with his fingers. Then diving back onto Soundwave's leg.

Rutting on it. Charge bouncing between the both of them, Starscream losing himself into his heat. And Soundwave, had to go back to his data pads. He only had a few left, and if he looked down, if he took a single peak, he knew he would lose it and just frag Starscream right there.

He just has to get through it. -------------------------- It was hard, he kept almost looking back at his mate when he whined when a thrust was particularly good on his nood. But he stayed strong, somehow, all the way down to the very last datapad.

Then it was over, it was over, and he was free from work and he just-

Grabbed Starscream by the waist, hoisting him up and off his leg. The leg was now soaked in wet and dried lubricant, but he didn't care. He placed Starscream on the now empty desk, pinning him down with his weight.

He captured his lips with his own. This one more hungry than the last, biting, and suckling, trying to get every inch of Starscream to be marked by him. To tell anyone who was looking who Starscream belonged to.

Hips flushed against the other, Soundwave let his spike panel free, pressurized straight into Starscream's valve, who moaned loudly at the stretch. He wrapped his legs around his waist effectively trapping him. Not wanting him to pull out, but he wouldn't.

"I'm going to make you feel good my star. I'm sorry I had to edge you on like that. But it was the only way to finish up those reports."

"I know. I know. Just frag me already." Soundwave happily obliged. Craning his hips back, in a slow pull out. He quickly filled Starscream back up with a hard thrust, one that pushed him forward on the desk.

He had to grab at the edges to keep himself from falling as Soundwave rammed into him. Over and over again. Charge jumping between the both of them at a rapid pace.

The tight wet heat of Starscream's valve kept pulling Shockwave back in. Wanting to keep him inside every time he pulled out to thrust back in.

Their kiss became sloppy, opened mouthed. Silent screaming of pleasure, at a particular hard thrust. One that bumped into the ceiling nood, and his forge, which stubbornly remained closed due to the bolt that was installed.

Oh how Soundwave would love to fuck a bitty into his conjunx, rubbing it in the shuttle autobots face that he knocked up his ex. He would relish in the hurt that the shuttles face would produce.

Those thoughts sent his fans onto high, thrusting even faster and harder than before. Starscream screaming his name like a sutra. Claws dug into his back, most likely leaving lines that would have to be buffered out later.

But right now in that moment. It was just him and Starscream. His lovely conjunx. His, his his his his.

With one final thrust he overloaded. Drenching Starscream's inner walls with his transfluid. Lighting up Starscream's inner noods, that had him squinting. Some transfluid along with his own lubricant slipping out and onto the already ruined floor.

Both vented out deeply, cooling themselves out. Slowly Soundwave untangled himself from Starscream. The seeker whimpered at the loss, before gasping when he was flipped onto his front. Pinned back down, and filled back up.

"Round two?"

"Round two."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

also read it on ao3

#valveplug #yaya writes #soundstar #stascream #soundwave

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mychlapci · 3 months ago

Note

Ooooh, Pharma suffering through one too many unsatisfied heats alone on Delphi, all cold and swollen. Sure he can deal with it manually but it’s never quite as satisfying as a person.

He can’t ask First Aid or Ambulon either. He is not going to be that kind of creepy surgeon who pressures his staff. Though the thought of it may lead to some fantasies about Ratchet walking in on him and pressuring him into it and Pharma may get a little lost in the sauce at the thought of Ratchet bending him over and assisting poor little nurse Pharma with it. He is pining and shaking through overload any time he plays old recordings of Ratchet’s voice, but even that stops being satisfying the longer time passes with no call or even email from him.

This eventually evolves into him just ignoring it by force stopping the cycle as long as possible, especially when the added stress of Tarn’s deal happens. All this escalates into Pharma being stuck on Luna-1 post-being tortured for months with experiments, having just rebuilt himself from scratch after being disintegrated on and off until Tyrest got it right. Now he’s playing up his mad doctor side which gets him left pretty much alone by everyone.

So he’s alone in his lab when his heat protocols start activating and he can’t stop it so he’s shaky collapsed gasping next to his notes, trying to think through the fever on how he can force stop with tools and force himself to crawl over. His panel snaps open because he’s so swollen and exhausted and he starts giggle-crying because of course this happens too. What’s next the Cons walking in on it? Clearly the universe hates him.

Then, to his horror, the door does open but it’s Star Saber which is a relief because he’s basically sexless and so repressed he’ll be too put off to try anything. Obviously. Pharma dealt with plenty of people like that before. They loved making comments at him after all for being a jet in medicine. He snarls at him trying to pull as much dignity as possible to help him up so he could resolve the issue and get back to the work.

Star Saber is strangely quiet and obedient, easily picking Pharma up and carrying him to his bed without any hesitation, grabbing some coolant, and only stopping when ordered to bring him a box and he looks inside it to see the contents.

Instead of bringing Pharma his toys though, he settles on the bed between Pharma’s legs and grabs them both in his hands, saying that imitations are not needed and are against Primus’s vision. Pharma starts giggling again because of course, why wouldn’t this happen now right when he thought he was going to get off easy. Star Saber’s face mask retracts and he goes face first into the valve before Pharma can react. Pharma didn’t realize that the Circle of Light worships the fighter-creator aspect of Primus and is, in fact, a sex cult. And Star Saber is a very devoted worshiper.

Something he is happily demonstrating by pressing himself as close as he can and licking and sucking and lathing every swollen nod he can touch. Pharma whites out through the first of many overloads. Two more riding Star Saber’s face, the last of which had Pharma’s legs wrapped so tightly around his helm he thought he heard something crack while he rocked into Star Saber’s tongue grinding his outside node on the other’s nose. Then he got flipped over and wings nibbled and worshiped as fingers as large as some spikes dove inside him and found his lubrication glands to milk them so thoroughly the pleasure went into pain only to circle back. Only when Star Saber had managed to get the worst of the edge off leaving Pharma pliant, plush, and them both soaked did his spike come into play delightfully stretching with ridges and biolight that were designed to press against inside nodes and line up charge outputs.

They both don’t leave until the swelling has gone down enough for the entrance of the gestation tank to become visible again and Pharma is very thoroughly satisfied in every way possible. Including ones he didn’t think of resulting directly in two little carry ons now that Star Saber is smug in a very self-righteous way about.

Pharma finally gets a satisfied heat but the pay off is Star Saber basically attached to him and more than willing to “top him off” any time the bump stops being visible despite Pharma’s repeated corrections that no sex throughout carrying is not actually required for health. But at least this crazy mech he’s stuck with this time mainly wants to give him the best overloads he’s ever had, tell him what a gift he is, and is willing to listen to him ramble happily about the miracle cures he’s making. No torture this time. Unless you count the occasional edging.

(Pharma can have a “nice” thing for once.)

AEHRGG... Pharma pussy indulgence...

#valveplug #heat cycles #texty #dubcon

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autotopic · 5 months ago

Text

1938 Mercedes-Benz W154

In September 1936, the AIACR (Association Internationale des Automobile Clubs Reconnus), the governing body of motor racing, set the new Grand Prix regulations effective from 1938. Key stipulations included a maximum engine displacement of three liters for supercharged engines and 4.5 liters for naturally aspirated engines, with a minimum car weight ranging from 400 to 850 kilograms, depending on engine size.

By the end of the 1937 season, Mercedes-Benz engineers were already hard at work developing the new W154, exploring various ideas, including a naturally aspirated engine with a W24 configuration, a rear-mounted engine, direct fuel injection, and fully streamlined bodies. Ultimately, due to heat management considerations, they opted for an in-house developed 60-degree V12 engine designed by Albert Heess. This engine mirrored the displacement characteristics of the 1924 supercharged two-liter M 2 L 8 engine, with each of its 12 cylinders displacing 250 cc. Using glycol as a coolant allowed temperatures to reach up to 125°C. The engine featured four overhead camshafts operating 48 valves via forked rocker arms, with three cylinders combined under welded coolant jackets, and non-removable heads. It had a high-capacity lubrication system, circulating 100 liters of oil per minute, and initially utilized two single-stage superchargers, later replaced by a more efficient two-stage supercharger in 1939.

The first prototype engine ran on the test bench in January 1938, and by February 7, it had achieved a nearly trouble-free test run, producing 427 hp (314 kW) at 8,000 rpm. During the first half of the season, drivers such as Caracciola, Lang, von Brauchitsch, and Seaman had access to 430 hp (316 kW), which later increased to over 468 hp (344 kW). At the Reims circuit, Hermann Lang's W154 was equipped with the most powerful version, delivering 474 hp (349 kW) and reaching 283 km/h (176 mph) on the straights. Notably, the W154 was the first Mercedes-Benz racing car to feature a five-speed gearbox.

Max Wagner, tasked with designing the suspension, had an easier job than his counterparts working on the engine. He retained much of the advanced chassis architecture from the previous year's W125 but enhanced the torsional rigidity of the frame by 30 percent. The V12 engine was mounted low and at an angle, with the carburetor air intakes extending through the expanded radiator grille.

The driver sat to the right of the propeller shaft, and the W154's sleek body sat close to the ground, lower than the tops of its tires. This design gave the car a dynamic appearance and a low center of gravity. Both Manfred von Brauchitsch and Richard Seaman, whose technical insights were highly valued by Chief Engineer Rudolf Uhlenhaut, praised the car's excellent handling.

The W154 became the most successful Silver Arrow of its era. Rudolf Caracciola secured the 1938 European Championship title (as the World Championship did not yet exist), and the W154 won three of the four Grand Prix races that counted towards the championship.

To ensure proper weight distribution, a saddle tank was installed above the driver's legs. In 1939, the addition of a two-stage supercharger boosted the V12 engine, now named the M163, to 483 hp (355 kW) at 7,800 rpm. Despite the AIACR's efforts to curb the speed of Grand Prix cars, the new three-liter formula cars matched the lap times of the 1937 750-kg formula cars, demonstrating that their attempt was largely unsuccessful. Over the winter of 1938-39, the W154 saw several refinements, including a higher cowl line around the cockpit for improved driver safety and a small, streamlined instrument panel mounted to the saddle tank. As per Uhlenhaut’s philosophy, only essential information was displayed, centered around a large tachometer flanked by water and oil temperature gauges, ensuring the driver wasn't overwhelmed by unnecessary data.

#mercedes benz

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sw5w · 1 year ago

Text

Battle Droids Driven Back

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:47:29

#Star Wars #Episode I #The Phantom Menace #Naboo #Theed #Battle of Theed #Battle of Naboo #Theed Hangar #N-1 starfighter #wall coupling unit #unidentified R2 unit #unidentified battle droid #E-5 blaster rifle #GZ-5 energy unit #Naboo goddess of security and safekeeping #B1 infantry battle droid #signal boost and power augmentation backpack #coolant valve #vent complex

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tinydefector · 4 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 5 - Group sex/ wet & messy

TFP Arcee x Insecticons

Heheheheh here's part two of my wife getting her a colony. Last thing for tonight because damn I'm tired but wanted to finish this and post it.

Day 4

Day 6

@tf-kinktober2024

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: group sex, breeding, blow job, fingerings, oral, Laying eggs,

______________

Arcee's ventilations quickened as the Insecticons digits delicately pressed into her valve, coaxing her open with a soft touch that sent shivers down her frame. The offer to become their Queen and form an alliance hung in the air, a proposition that stirred a mix of fear and desire within her spark.

Their digits press deeper into her, moving and working her open as transfluid leaks from her valve and spike. "That's it little femme, just relax" they coo. Their own interface panel sliding away as their spike pressurises.

Arcee's optics widened in a mixture of fear and apprehension. The sheer size and intensity of the impending interface filled her with a sense of unease, the realisation of what was to come sparking a primal instinct to flee. The pressure against her spike only heightened her anxiety, "Please... I-I don't know if I can handle this," Arcee's voice quivered, a tremor of fear lacing her words.

"It will fit," they hum, pulling their digits from her valve and moving to press her into the bedding as they hover over her, spike resting against her valve before they press in. Arcee's vocalizer emitted a string of fragmented words, her processor struggling to keep up with the overwhelming sensations coursing through her frame as they pulling her flush against them, elicited a sharp pain that jolted through her circuits, causing her to gasp in discomfort

Another set of servos trace her faceplate making her optics snap to the other Insecticon who clicks softly. "Wait, wait, I-I don't know if I'm ready for this," Arcee's voice quivered,

As the Insecticons spike pressed deeper making her plating move in discomfort.

The unfamiliar sensation of the spike against the silica of her gestation chamber, sending a jolt of fear through her systems. The barbs of their spike lock her in place as she struggles against them, unable to get away. A few others move in gently holding her up enough as they watch her plating move "Easy, easy. The sensation will subside" they purr while slowly grinding their spike deeper.

“she will be a perfect little queen for us” another states, mandibles brushing her face as they pull her into a kiss. a series of strained sounds leave her as she melts into the touch.

Even more transfluid gushes from her, as the others nuzzle closely. Digits working her spike as she arches into each touch coolant running down her faceplate, whether from the pheromones, overstimulation or situation. She rocks her hips back against them making their spike press deeper into the chamber.

They slowly begin pumping a fluid into her chamber, it has Arcee keening and whining as it makes her systems meltdown, eager for more but at the same time screaming out for it to stop. "Tell us what you need little femme" another con click softly to her.

a series of desperate sounds leave her as she grabs hold of the one currently filling her to the brim. "I-I need... more," Arcee's voice trembled, the words barely audible amidst the whimpers and whines that escaped her.

"More of what sweet one?" They rumble slowly pulling away as transfluid gushes from her, she tries to grab them and pull them back but its another Insecticon which takes their place, leaning down to run their glossa against her spike and gushing valve, eagerly lapping up as much as they can.

Her vocalizer, usually reserved and controlled, now spilled forth with a torrent of words, a mixture of desire and desperation. "More... more please, feel empty," Arcee's voice wavered, the plea laced with a hunger she had never known before. their insistent hums against her throat cables, stirred something primal within her, urging her to give in to the overwhelming pheromones.

The others slowly move in, clicking and calling “easy little femme, relax we'll give you what you need” another coos. Servos traces up her frame as they kiss her, touch her and watch as she Withers as the other slowly thrust into her, another's mouth moved to her spike, sucking it slowly, Arcee erupted with a cascade of pleas and gasps. "Yes, yes, don't stop... please, fill me," she whimpered, her frame quivering against the small swarm gathered around her.

She doesn't know how long she had been there or how many times they had taken her but when one of their spikes began to swell and lock in place, a sharp cry of pain escaped her vocalizer. frame tensing in confusion and uncertainty. "What's happening?" she exclaimed, hot vented air gushes from her as she struggles slightly against their hold.

Insecticon spoke softly. "Giving you your brood my queen" sent a shiver down Arcee’s spinal strut as her plating aches to accommodate. she managed to gasp out, As the first egg fill her gestation chamber. "It's too much... please," she cries out, her frame trembling with the strain of the sensation.

"Shhh it won't hurt for long, we prepared you for this" they hum, as more eggs pump into her. Despite their attempts to soothe her, the relentless pumping of more eggs into her gestation chamber continued, each one adding to her distress and discomfort.

As more eggs began to weigh her on her tank heavily Arcee's protests grew louder, her vocalizer filling the chamber with a cacophony of pleas and cries. "I can't... I can't take this," she cries out, her voice tinged with a sense of defeat and resignation.

"Yes you can sweet Queen, we will look after you, almost finished " many of them coo at her whisperering praise as the litter kisses and licks against her. As the last egg is resting in her chamber the Insecticon pulls away, leaving others rush to her cooing and click as they lower her into the nest.

Body's pressed against her as they begin tending to her. Cleaning between her legs and bringing energon to her. "Rest, we will talk about your team once you have recharged" they coo softly.

"Wait... my team," Arcee's voice quivered with apprehension, her optics wide with fear as they mentioned discussing her team once she had recharged. The thought of her team's safety in the hands of the Insecticons sent a wave of panic through her circuits, her worries bubbling to the surface in a torrent of words. "I need to know they're safe," she pleaded, her voice filled with a desperate urgency

"They aren't here little queen, we will talk once you rest, and make sure you have fueled. If you wish to leave the nest we will follow" they state while others cuddle around her.

Arcee's spark fluttered with a mix of apprehension and unease as the Insecticons reassured her that her team was not present, urging her to rest and refuel before they would discuss further.

But the gentle buzzing and warm embrace of the Insecticons as they cuddled around her offered a strange sense of comfort amidst the chaos of everything. She doesn't remember the last time she had energon this sweet nor being able to recharge so swiftly.

____________

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#transformers #transformers x reader #valveplug #transformers prime #arcee x reader #Arcee x Insecticons #insecticons transformers #Insecticons #tfp arcee #tfp #tfp x reader

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reaper2187 · 7 months ago

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Asami sato x female reader

The sun was setting over Republic City, casting a warm, golden glow over the tall buildings and busy streets. The day's hustle and bustle were beginning to wind down, leaving a peaceful calm in the air. The soft hum of satomobiles blended with the distant murmur of the evening crowd.

Y/N Beifong, daughter of Lin Beifong and a proud member of the Republic City Police Force, walked through the streets, her boots echoing softly against the pavement. She was tall and athletic, with short hair and a confident stride that turned heads. Her uniform, though slightly rumpled from a long day, still held an air of authority and respect.

Y/N had inherited her mother’s no-nonsense attitude, but underneath that tough exterior was a kind heart, especially when it came to her girlfriend, Asami Sato. Asami, the brilliant inventor and CEO of Future Industries, was the light in Y/N’s life, balancing her rough edges with grace and warmth.

As Y/N approached the gates of the Sato mansion, she felt the familiar flutter of excitement. No matter how exhausting her day had been, the thought of seeing Asami always brought a smile to her face. She pushed open the gate and walked up the path to the front door, her heart lightening with each step.

Asami met her at the door, her eyes lighting up with joy. She was dressed casually in a simple blouse and pants, her hair cascading over her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around Y/N in a warm embrace, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Welcome home, love,” Asami whispered, her voice full of affection.

“Thanks, Sami,” Y/N replied, her arms tightening around her. “I missed you.”

They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the world fade away. Finally, Asami pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling.

“Come on, I’ve got something I need your help with,” she said, taking Y/N’s hand and leading her inside.

Y/N followed her through the grand halls of the mansion, down to the workshop. The room was filled with various gadgets and blueprints, the air humming with creativity and innovation. Asami led her to a large table in the center of the room, where a partially assembled satomobile engine lay.

“I’ve been working on a new design,” Asami explained, her eyes alight with passion. “It’s more efficient and eco-friendly, but I’ve hit a bit of a snag with the cooling system.”

Y/N looked at the intricate machinery, her brow furrowing in concentration. “What seems to be the problem?”

Asami handed her a blueprint, pointing out the issue. “The coolant isn’t circulating properly. I’ve tried adjusting the valves, but it’s still overheating.”

Y/N studied the blueprint for a moment, her analytical mind at work. “Have you considered re-routing the coolant lines here?” she suggested, pointing to a section of the diagram.

Asami’s eyes widened in realization. “Of course! That makes perfect sense.”

Together, they set to work, their movements synchronized and efficient. Y/N’s strong, capable hands made quick work of the adjustments, while Asami provided the technical expertise. They worked in comfortable silence, their minds in perfect harmony.

As the evening wore on, they took a break, sitting together on a nearby bench. Asami leaned against Y/N, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Thank you for your help,” Asami said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m always here for you, Sami. No matter what.”

They sat there for a while, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Eventually, they resumed their work, the engine slowly taking shape under their skilled hands.

By the time they finished, it was late into the night. The engine hummed smoothly, the coolant flowing perfectly. Asami looked at it with satisfaction, her eyes shining with pride.

“We did it,” she said, turning to Y/N with a grateful smile.

Y/N grinned, wiping her hands on a rag. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

Asami laughed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “The best.”

They cleaned up the workshop, putting away tools and tidying the space. Once everything was in order, they headed back upstairs, hand in hand.

In the cozy warmth of the living room, they settled on the couch, a blanket draped over their legs. Asami snuggled close to Y/N, her head resting on her chest. Y/N wrapped her arms around her, holding her close.

They talked softly, sharing stories about their day, their hopes and dreams for the future. Asami’s voice was soothing, a gentle melody that lulled Y/N into a state of blissful contentment.

Eventually, their conversation slowed, replaced by the comfortable silence of two people deeply in love. Y/N felt her eyelids growing heavy, the warmth of Asami’s body lulling her to sleep.

Just as she was drifting off, she heard Asami’s soft voice.

“I love you, Y/N,” she whispered, her breath warm against Y/N’s neck.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with love. “I love you too, Sami. Always.”

As the night settled around them, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, their hearts beating in perfect harmony. In the quiet of the Sato mansion, amidst the hum of machinery and the distant sounds of the city, Y/N and Asami found their peace, wrapped in the warmth of their love.

#lesbian #wlw #wlw post #avatar #tlok asami #atla #asami #asami sato x reader #asami x reader #asami sato #asami sato x female reader #x reader #tlok #tlok x reader #x fem!reader #x fem reader #x female reader #x masc reader #masc!fem!reader

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uselessmicrowave · 1 year ago

Text

kinktober day fourteen

tfp megatron x reader

tws/content- degradation, brat taming, cybertronian reader, gn reader, swearing, orgasm denial, crying, dub con, sadism/masochism, punishment, guilt (?)

“You are the neediest fragging brat I’ve ever had in my berth.” Megatron growls, forcing you against the berth again, his servos digging into your spinal strut as he pushes you. You whine into the pillow, arching and clawing at the sheets. “You’re gonna act right when I’m doing my own damn work?”

You shake your head no, your legs faltering and slipping apart from Megatron’s constant and fast pace. He squeezes the back of your neck cables carelessly, shoving you down onto his spike again and again. You whimper with each thrust, soon panting out quick apologizes.

“‘M sorry- really really sorry Megatron!” you whine, muffled by the pillow. You can feel coolant start to bead up in your optics, grinding backwards into him and gripping at the sheets. “Lord Megatron!”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he growls, scratching your shoulder plating and making sure it would hurt. “you’re going to take this punishment and learn your lesson.”

Megatron growls, moving a servo to your thigh plating and slamming you onto his spike. His groans fuel the heavy swirling feeling in your body, making you tremble and squeeze down onto him. He offers you no praise, no reward for sitting and taking his penalties with only the promise that it wouldn’t happen when you acted right. He grunts, roughly gripping your thigh and shoulder plating, pushing as far into your valve. The sound of your plating crunching and the feeling of his spike pressing against your ceiling node makes you squeal. You let out quick vents, trying to keep yourself quiet while Megatron pumps you full of his transfluid.

“Yes… you’ll behave next time, won’t you.” he gasps, catching his vents quickly and sliding out of you. You keep your helm down, aft up to let him look at you all he wants.

You feel sort of gross.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #micro’s kinktober #tfp #tfp x reader #transformers prime #transformers prime x reader #valveplug #megatron #tfp megatron #megatron x reader #tfp megatron x reader

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super-ion · 10 days ago

Text

Mona Lisa Sunrise

(Part 1)

(Previous entries to this series: original post, ZetaTransit049)

“And they say brunettes with dimples can't stabilize the reactor core,” Mona said with an exhilarated giggle as the klaxon finally cut off its panicked screaming.

The comfort unit tossed her head and brushed stray locks of hair from her face, turning with a flutter of her eyelashes.

Her grin faltered. She was alone.

Well… MS-675732-B was there, but it was definitely, positively, absolutely non-functional.

She pouted. What was the point of sexily saving the day if there was no one there to appreciate it.

“Thank you for saving the day, Mona,” chirped one of Station's talk boxes embedded on the wall. “You did a very good job.”

“Oh thank you, Station!” she replied, her grin returning.

She wiped her hands… or tried to. They just clanked together metallicaly.

Oh... yeah.

Lefty was a ragged mess. After the misadventure with the coolant pressure release valve, there were only a few scraps of shredded derm that clung stubbornly to the musculature up to her wrist. The musculature itself was looking pretty scorched... she wasn't even sure if it was worth a dermal regen at this point. The ceaseless flood of diagnostic error logs didn't bode particularly well for it.

She imagined it would hurt like a mother fucker if she hadn't supressed her pain emulation subroutines.

Righty… well, half of the right arm she had woken up with that morning was presently lying on the floor of the ops deck where a fire suppression bulkhead had sheared it off pretty neatly just above the elbow. The other half lay discarded next to the crumpled body of the service mech on the ground next to her.

Her new right arm, the one she had hot swapped when she discovered poor MS-675732-B, was something to behold.

It wasn't particularly pretty. It wasn't meant to be pretty… or sexy, not at all like her factory recommended components. But she found it alluring in its own way. It was utilitarian, dense alloy in the frame and a reinforced musculature. And for delicate work…

She fired a command and a compartment opened on the wrist, spidery appendages unfolded. Sensor probes and graspers and even a micro welder. It certainly wasn't meant for the kind of delicate work she was used to, but she couldn't deny that something about it was getting her hot and bothered.

There was probably some messaging protocols from the arm that were getting routed to other core processes to trigger response.

Something, something, the eroticism of the machine, she supposed.

Maybe one of the techs would be turned on by it. That could be a fun and novel adventure.

She grinned at the thought as she pinged Station for status.

8169 seconds ago, she had been rather un-gently shaken out of sleep mode. Emerging from her cubicle, she had discovered a nightmare of blaring alarms and strobing lights. Something, somewhere down in one of the refinery modules, had exploded, triggering a whole cascade of catastrophic damage throughout the station. All maintenace units had either been evacuated or rendered non-functional, so it fell on the station's two comfort units to finish the job of getting systems online and stable.

Station answered her ping with an abbreviated rundown: Reactor stable. Backup life support stable. Ops deck fire suppression engaged. FTL comms unresponsive. Refinery module 1 unresponsive. Refinery module 2 failed safe… etc etc

Station population: 0

Her brain caught on that. 12 dead, 23 injured, all 137 evacuated.

A process in her core stuttered.

Station population: 0

She wasn't just alone in reactor access, she was alone in the whole station.

“Okay…” she said breathily. “Okay. This is fine.”

She cared about people. It was her job. It was her purpose. Her core directives were already triggering post industrial accident protocols, she was meant to be a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to… or, to be entirely honest, someone to fuck if just for the momentary reprieve. Everybody coped with this sort of thing in their own way, and she was meant to facilitate that. Except there was no one for her to comfort. No one to cry on her shoulder. No one to seek her embrace.

She stood stock still in reactor access as her mind tried to sort out the mess of information as subroutines and core directives clashed, and conflicting processes competed for priority.

She needed to return to the cubicle. She needed to power down and await further instructions.

“Mona,” Station said through the talkbox, the audible sensory input slicing through the fog. “This is further instructions. The station is not stable. I need your help.”

Help. Yeah, she could help.

Station pinged her system, coaxing prioritization schemas to kick in. Out of control processes were killed and spun back up, then relegated to lower priority.

“Good girl,” Station said gently through the talkbox as it uploaded new provisional directives to her queue.

She blinked her eyes. An entirely unneeded gesture, but it helped her focus. She played back the preceding hours: unlocking fire suppression on ops deck, hotwiring the engineering access tubes (with one arm!), hot swapping an appendage she technically wasn't designed for, stabilizing the core.

She had done all of that. Sure, she had needed to download a whole slew of schematics and manuals, far exceeding the bounds of her design. But she had done it.

Her purpose was to help. She just needed to expand the parameters of what help meant.

Station needed her help.

She could help.

~~~

System poll : 4 nodes identified

Echo(self) : CS-553902-M “MonaLisa”

Host : SunRiseStation-ELS-93806

Node : CS-553807-L “David”

Node : ZetaTransit049

Unresponsive hardware detected

MS-675732-B - location: Reactor Access E96

MS-554932-M - location: Exterior +X9842-Y3320+Z0229

Message log

Sender : CS-553902-M

Receiver : ZetaTransit049

Message : Hey boo

Response : Leave me alone.

Message : Okay! Love you! <3

Message log

Sender : CS-553902-M

Receiver : CS-553807-L

Message : Hey cutie!

Response : Hey! Still alive?

Message : You know it! All good with you?

Response : Doing my best. Shit's totally fucked

Message : Damn skippy!

Response : lol

Message : I'm heading down to the tech bay. You doing anything later?

Response : I dunno, you tell me ;)

#wait? who's david??#mona lisa sunrise #my writing #writers on tumblr #robot posting #robots #robots in love #sci fi #robot girls #robot girls in love

23 notes · View notes