ROBERT ROBERTSON

Oh, he has enough problems to deal with. Mostly from his own program. So why the fuck is he thinking about someone from another?

The first time he encountered you was in the break room, when you were cursing the damn stupid fucking coffee maker that won't work and he helped you out by plugging the unplugged cord.

He'll never forget how your eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief, before you turned to face him and he almost sputtered in shock when he saw your face fully. You told him it was the stress from your program getting to you, and Robert could barely contain his amused smile at that.

After a short introduction and an embarrassing apology, Robert watched you leave the room with a dangerous curiosity curling in his chest.

He quickly finds out you're another Dispatcher in their branch, but how come he's never seen you before? As if a flip has been switched, he begins to notice you every time now.

He gets distracted when he hears your voice cutting through the channel, providing him assistance whenever his program needs it.

He always bumps into you during morning coffee runs, almost spilling his coffee on you one too many times. Or vice versa.

The two of you are the only ones ending the shifts late, and he purposefully slows tidying up his desk just so he could wait for you to finish.

He wonders if you were a former hero like him, and spends his free time obsessively analyzing you from across the room just to guess which one were you.

It got to the point Chase notices it, and Robert has never lived a day without his former babysitter now mentor teasing the ever life of him.

Whenever the two of you end your shifts late again, Robert waits until you're done and walks up to you with Beef in his arms. Then, he'll ask if he could walk you home, just to make sure you get home safe, and lights up when you agree—for the third time.

He brings you coffee every morning, just the way you like it. He gives you advice and spends late night conversations walking home, wanting to stretch the hours just so he could spend more time with you.

Z-team already caught on before he knew it, and every single one of them makes his life a living hell by pulling the most embarrassing things at work just to tease him.

INVISIGAL

Chase even comments about, "Next thing I know, you're gonna fucking settle down and start the fourth Robert Robertson with them." But somehow, that thought doesn't seem too bad in his mind.

Oh, she would be the most annoying bitch in the building.

You know how cats are? Actively seek your attention, purr in delight when they get it, just to act all hissy and avoid you for the rest of the day when you spoil them too much. In the end, they'll continue coming back for more because they're so curious.

Yeah, it's like that for Visi.

She'd have this stalkerish tendencies of following you whenever you go while invisible, just to know what places you like to visit or what food you eat.

She'll leave snacks on your desk, the ones she found out while following you, but never tells you it's from her. Just watches from the corner you look around the room, confused, while she tells you to eat the fucking thing in her mind.

Following that cat-like behavior, she'll also leave you random gifts she has stolen from different shops. The exact ones that she saw you eyeing through a glass window, or heard from a conversation with another Dispatcher.

Wants to desperately talk to you, but figured you're busy with your own program so she settles on staring at you while Robert hasn't called for her yet.

The time she finally gets to talk to you was when Robert was talking to you first, and she casually slides into the conversation, ignoring Robert's baffled expression.

When you laugh at one of her jokes, Visi took that as a cue and proceeds to steal you away from Robert. Then, chaos ensues.

She begins to hover, appearing out of nowhere just to surprise you. Especially in the most inconvenient times, which happens to be her favorite. She does it one time when you're changing in the locker room, and has the audacity to laugh at your terrified expression while you're half-naked on the floor.

And god, the sex jokes. They never stop. At first she does it for shits and giggles, until she starts to drop more and more around you. To the point when you finally reciprocate it, catching her off guard and flustered for once.

Whenever you feel someone's staring at you, it's most likely Visi. Just standing there at the corner whenever you're on shift, staring and waiting, with that dark indecipherable glint in her eye.

She also does not shy away from checking you out. Continuing to do so even after you catch her and call her out. She just gives you this coy smirk and wink, before she disappears from sight.

Clings to you for the rest of her remaining free time, just chatting, yapping, and teasing. When she jokes about you taking her on a date, you agree casually. She freezes and gives you this wide-eyed stare, before vanishing yet again.

After a long day and shift, you're just about to leave the building and head home when you feel an invisible tug on your arm and see Visi manifesting there—grinning up at you.

WATERBOY

"You still owe me that date, casanova."

Oh, the poor guy's a goner the moment he develops a crush. And he's terribly obvious with it.

I can't decide between two HCS of him. Either he's clinging to the person he likes or entirely avoiding them (much like in my waterboy fanfic), but for now let's HC him as both.

During his time as a janitor, he'll avoid you at all costs. Because he thinks you're way out of his league, and he's just a nobody cleaning after everyone's mess. But what made him like you instantly was your politeness.

Even when it was his job to clean up, you always made sure to tidy around a bit to save him some trouble. He'll approach you, shaking and nervous, telling you how you didn't need to do that and you shouldn't bother with it.

Instead of disregarding him, you just gave him a soft smile and told him you didn't mind. "I've seen you working hard around here, you deserve some help too. And in case no one has told you yet, thank you."

Oh, heart eyes behind his goggles. Next to Robert, you're the second person to acknowledge him with kindness and patience. It's the bare minimum, but after a long time of enduring bullying, being taken for granted, and not being recognized—it was like a beacon of hope.

He asks the first person he trusts for advice, Robert, about how to have more confidence and not make a fool of himself around you. But even after receiving a few advice, Waterboy still cannot work up the courage to talk to you.

It's only after Robert chose him to be a part of the Z-team when Waterboy builds a little more confidence in himself. Maybe because the others have been a bad influence on him, but he sees it as a good thing.

The next time he talks to you, he doesn't stutter as much. He still gets nervous, terribly nervous, but somehow your comforting energy calms him. He doesn't see any malice or judgement in your eyes, you welcome his presence whenever you're eating in the break room.

He also greatly admires your skills as a Dispatcher, being one of the top programs in the branch, and he sometimes wonder how it's like working under you.

And– And not in that way. Maybe.

With his newfound confidence, he's able to initiate more conversations with you. He'll show you pictures of his grandma's cats, bond over your similar interests, and hang around the break room during your free time.

He buys you your favorite snacks and leaves little sentimental notes on your desk. As well as gifts that reminded him of you.

He won't hesitate to clean your desk up, even when you tell him you're perfectly capable of doing it, he still takes the initiative. Not because it's his job, but because he wants to reciprocate the kindness you've given him.

FLAMBAE

And the entire team is either supportive or disgusted (affectionately) whenever you pass by and greet him with a smile, because this man will turn into a puddle—staring after you dazedly as he waves back with the dreamiest smile you'll ever see him wear.

This guy. God, this guy becomes unbearable.

You know those kinds of people who'll take any and every opportunity to show off in front of their crushes? Yeah, Flambae will absolutely do the most just to get you to notice him.

At first he doesn't notice you. Why would he? He doesn't have the time for others, especially when they're not anywhere near his level.

But then the team goes out for drinks one night, when he sees you there at the bar—still donned in your SDN uniform like Robert—and he gapes in shock because, woah, how come he's never seen you before? Surely, he would've noticed a pretty face like yours around the place.

After downing a shot, he makes his way over—suave, sure of himself, and totally ignoring his team exchanging cash behind him—and slides beside you.

"New around here?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. "Pretty sure I would've seen someone like you before, cuz you're very easy on the eyes. Mind If I buy you a drink, hot stuff?"

He only receives an eye roll, before you grab your drink and smile at him. "Already bought myself one. Try again next time." Then, you slip away towards your booth, leaving him bewildered.

He's not even focused on Prism cheering loudly with cash in hand or Malevola groaning in disappointment in the background, because in his head, the game's only just begun. Oh, it's on.

He immediately locks in on you the moment he sees you at work, headset on your shoulders in that ugly blue uniform that you somehow pull off.

And the show begins. He unironically flexes his muscles every time you pass by, not even sparing him a glance. He stops by your cubicle to strike up a conversation, but it's more like him bragging about his recent missions and how awesome he is, to which you'll always sigh.

Sometimes, he'll ignore Robert's direct orders to stay focused on the mission. Because he'll see you walking around Torrance on your day off, and immediately flies after you. Much to your dismay. At least he became useful carrying all your grocery bags back to your apartment.

It doesn't stop there. If anything, he takes it up a notch and personally asks you out for drinks. Once, twice, until three times isn't enough, and the fourth time involves him dropping off a pack of tacos on your desk—still no luck.

The fifth was when he sees you entering the elevator, and he swiftly slips past the doors just before they shut. The moment you make eye contact, he grins while you sigh again.

"So," He pants, slicks his hair back. "That date? Gonna give me a chance? I promise you, it's gonna be great! Because you're gonna be with me. And I'll make sure it's gonna be awesome."

He expects another rejection, he wouldn't mind trying for a sixth time, but then you sigh again and smile at him. "You know what? Sure, why not? But if it sucks, I'm gonna report you to HR."

PRISM

Fuck yeah.

One thing about Prism, she likes to shine and let others watch her shine. She'll absolutely let you know if she likes you.

But I feel like she wouldn't approach you at first, she's the type to let others do the first move. She's a popstar after all, not a fan. The others should be the ones approaching her.

And that's what you did. In the break room, she sees you standing at the entrance and feels your stare. Normally, she'll let the moment pass and ignore it. After all, she's used to fans and shit.

But that changes when you approach her, and you reveal that you've been listening to her music recently. Especially during writing up reports late at night. Not as a fan praising their idol, but as a genuine compliment from another person.

And wait, you're actually cute up close. She might just be interested in you after that.

Somehow, after that encounter, Prism starts opening up to you. She'll show up in the office, and starts calling you pet names in front of everyone. Her favorite one is baby, because she enjoys the look of shock and the tiny blush on your face.

Gives you special treatment than her actual fans, makes you listen to her unreleased drafts, and even takes candid photos of you whenever you're busy.

She even starts decorating her vape with embezzled jewels with your initials, thinks it's cool and shows it to you.

She even tweets cryptic things on her page like "god my baby's so cute" "y'all ever wanna drop to your knees and worship a god? not religious, but i might!" or even "looks like I have a new type ;))"

Watch her fans go crazy and try to come up with theories who she's referring to. A whole investigator level type of shit that absolutely amuses her. But really, she only has one target audience. And that's you.

She starts taking more pics of you, actually good ones that compliment your features, and even poses with your face out of the frame to post it. Just to see her fans go wild. She then asks you for your number to send them—smooth, casual, and a total score for her.

You give it to her, and she's immediately spamming you with your pics later that night. Her pics. Song recommendations. Show recommendations. As well as places while following with a "wouldn't it be nice to go here for a date?" message after.

She's not exactly subtle in work either. Blows a kiss in your direction, lets her touch linger on your arm, your shoulder, and back when she's passing. She becomes bolder, wilder, and she's not stopping until she gets what she wants.

Late at night, she's glued to her phone again—scrolling through tweets and current trends—when she sees your contact name (my baby) and opens it to see your message replying to the place she sent for a date idea.

PUNCH UP

She only laughs and maybe even melts a little when she sees your message, "how about I take you out there sometime?"

His recent break up with Coupé left him considering his romantic preferences afterwards. Not that the relationship was bad, but they were both villains at that time, so it really didn't last long.

For a while, he's not really interested in another relationship. That is until he met you. And shite, he understands why they call it love at first sight.

The first time he sees you is during a conference meeting with the Z-team. You enter the room to call for Blonde Blazer, and Punch Up's jaw literally drops and his eyes widens comically at the sight of you.

He remembers sitting up straighter, trying to appear taller, and fiddles with his mustaches while he sneaks glances in your direction.

On the outside, he appears confident and sure if himself. But deep inside him, he's conscious that someone like you wouldn't be interested in him. Hell, he already expects a rejection.

If only his powers didn't fucking make him shrink to this size, he would've been more forward in courting you. Plus, he figures you wouldn't want to be with someone half your fucking height.

Still, Punch Up can't help but puff up his chest or slick his hair back whenever you cross paths. He'll even compliment you on your work, to which you're surprised at, but you'd smile down at him in gratitude.

That gave him an inkling of hope, you didn't look at him weirdly or find his approach off-putting, so he decides to take a step further.

Starts leaving flowers on your desk. Gives you random compliments and encouragement just in case you need a boost in morale. Brings you coffee—bittersweet and light—when he notices you looking down after a shift.

Totally becomes a gentleman to make up for his lack of height, but the latter part didn't seem to bother you at all. You always thank him with a warm smile that never fails to heat his cheeks and make him feel all giddy.

Like Waterboy, heart eyes every time he sees you. Visibly melts when you smile at him. Grins so wide whenever you make a joke or laugh at his. He quickly becomes your cheerleader and hype man, providing both encouragement and comfort.

He jokingly suggests he could give you some massage after seeing you rolling your shoulders around, lightly bragging about his firm touch and expertise, and is totally shocked when you agree.

Yeah, he's spending the whole time grinning so wide while he's giving you back massage in the break room. Also, glares at everyone who enters and gives him a weird look.

You make him feel like he's normal, like he doesn't need to prove anything just because he's lacking in certain areas. You treat him just the same as everyone, and he actually thinks you're perfect.

COUPÉ

He will absolutely do anything to protect you. He may not be the brightest, but hurting you is the last thing on his mind.

Contrary to popular belief, Coupé is an absolute flirt—genuinely trying or not—and she has no problem using her charm on everyone. Proven and tested on Sonar and Punch Up. Robert too, if you include that time in Crypto Night.

The first time she sees you in the office, her eyes gleams dangerously like the knives tucked into her wings. You're not even doing anything remotely interesting, but something about you triggers her fascination.

And if you knew Coupé, then that would be a dangerous thing to develop.

Starts gathering more information about you, using her skills as an assassin to remain undetected. And like the crime in her profile, she's a stalker. But then again, that's part of the whole package.

Once she has eyes on something, or someone, she develops an unhealthy fixation on them. Spends so much time lurking, eavesdropping, and stalking just to find more details about you and your life.

She doesn't even know why she became so entranced by you, but all she knew was whoever dares to approach you, they'll have to answer to her.

Okay, yeah. I'm picking up on slight yandere tendencies to her. Something about her screams obsession at first sight, and as an assassin, she never stops until she captures her target.

Or in this case, you.

She memorizes your routine outside SDN, your work and personal schedule, every time you clock in and out of the office. Then, she uses all her gathered information to her advantage.

Meaning, she'll weaponize them into getting your attention.

Going back to the first bullet, she'll use her charm to disarm you the next time you go out for drinks. She's always one step ahead of you, already there in every corner you turn, just so she can make sure her existence is branded into your mind.

Then, after introductions that's where she'll flirt. Gets touchy immediately after a couple of words exchanged. Lightly plays with your hair, strokes your jaw, whispers low in your ear.

An absolute tease once you get close to her. Or rather, once she gets close to you. She always keeps her gaze on you from every corner of the room. Steps in immediately if she detects someone linger too close.

Hey, this might be a bit manipulative to others' taste. But it hasn't stopped her from getting what she wants. Plus, she's not doing anything illegal. She just has a terrible crush on a Dispatcher from another program.

GOLEM

And if you ever say no to her, she'll do whatever it takes to change your mind.

Golem is a certified green flag, and I will DIE on that hill. Have you heard his voice lines when talking to the girls? Marriage material, honestly.

Okay, I'm gonna be honest, this is gonna be difficult because he literally is a construct. But we're not going past that, we're just going to stick to crushes.

Golem rarely develops any romantic interest in anyone, mostly because he knows he doesn't have any chance with them. Thinks everyone is way out of his league, and they wouldn't want someone like him.

But when it comes to you, he's SMITTEN. This man is my goat right here, he deserves so much love pls. Anyway, he literally stands still like a deer in headlights—you'd actually think he turned into a clay statue—the first time he sees you.

Canonically, he loves listening to music and poetry. So he starts hyperfixating on making playlists and poems with the thought of you. He already has a hundred songs dedicated to you, the Dispatcher from another program, and written at least thirty poems about how you look.

He REALLY wants to show you all the work he's done, but hesitates because what if you think he's being creepy?

Thankfully, maybe because of some miracle, you're the one who approached him during his break time outside the building. His usual spot is by the parking lot, where he'll just sit and listen to his newly made playlist and write poems about everything he sees.

"Whatcha listening to, big guy?"

It takes a lot to scare Golem, but the sound of your voice—soft and curious—startles him. He immediately snaps his gaze towards you, blinks, and just stares. Not saying a word. Totally starstruck as if you're top tier a superhero. Maybe you were in the past.

You apologized for scaring him, but he simply shakes his head and quietly shows you his phone. The current song he's listening to makes your eyes brighten, and he has to stop the clay on his body from physically melting.

He finds out you two have similar tastes in music, and when you ask about what he's writing, he doesn't even hesitate on showing you.

He doesn't even stop you when you get to the ones he's written about you. He later reveals how they're all about you, better get it off of his chest and move on, but he's more surprised to see you smiling.

You told him it's the first time anyone has ever written a poem about you, and he's honestly shocked by that.

SONAR

Oh, one thing about poets. Once they like you, everything they do will be tied to your name.

God, this fucking pervert. Really, he is a pervert.

But somehow, he manages to keep himself maintained in front of you. Barely. He still likes to let his eyes linger on your body. Once. Twice. Okay, maybe lots of times.

Malevola actually hit him hard on his head after catching him drooling over and eyefucking you, and not wanting to anger her, he promises to keep himself in his best behavior.

Again, barely.

The best thing he can do is resort to his intelligence. Cuz c'mon, not to brag or anything, but he's a Harvard graduate. So, that's gotta impress you right?

Yeah, he was humbled immediately when you just stared at him and proceeded to give a thumbs up. "Cool, man. I mean, I have some friends from there as well. But we're not in touch anymore."

Just when he thinks all hope is lost, you follow up a question on what his majors were. Oh, watch him turn into the most insufferable yapper known to existence. Infodumps intensely, sticks to your side even when you're busy on the job, and just rambles.

He secretly wonders if he's bothering you or you're just accepting everything he's saying because you pity him, but you genuinely seem invested and even quip a comment every once in a while.

Okay, good. Maybe this can work out just fine. Except that his attraction towards you becomes more obvious. He squeaks more around you (a habit when he's nervous) and his ears twitch when he hears you talking, even from across the room.

He asks a lot of questions about you as well. He plays it off as mutual interest, but he desperately wants to know if he truly has a chance with you or if you're way out of his league to even bother to court.

But that's not what seals the deal. It was when he managed to make you laugh at his dry jokes the first time, and he swears it was the best day of his life.

He's actively trying not to overstep his boundaries, also asks about your interests and is genuinely thrilled to discover you have similar ones. Besides drugs and boobs, or maybe you like the second one too, but he's not gonna ask about that. Yet.

Sonar is actually a sweet guy once you get to know him well enough. But not the kind of sweet you typically see on romance stories, but the kind that annoys you at the same time.

But he means well, he's smart enough to know not to fuck this up. It might be his only chance after all. Even Malevola's constant teasing how you're way out of his league, he still continues to impress you with new things day by day.

MALEVOLA

Sonar now has three favorite things: drugs, boobs, and the new addition, you.

Malevola, much like the other girls, can be a massive flirt if she wants.

But most of the time, it's all just for fun and it's how she normally interacts with others. If she liked them, of course. Platonically or romantically. She does it so naturally, kind of forward at times to the point that it might make others uncomfortable and she doesn't realize it. Or maybe she does, she just continues to do it for her own amusement.

So when she develops a crush on you, oh it's not gonna take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Even Sonar notices it the moment his best friend starts eyeing someone from across the room. Follows her line of sight, sees you getting up from your seat, and immediately says to himself, "Oh, they're so fucked."

"They're about to be," Malevola casually quips, winking at the bat hybrid. "Watch and learn how it's done, batman."

She proceeds to harass charm you during your free time. Literally glides the tip of her tail along the length of your leg as you walk by, startling you completely, before she boldly pins you to the wall and grins deviously at you. "Hey there, cutie. Didn't catch your name before. Mind throwing it?"

All she received was a shocked and scandalized look from you, before you slipped under her arm and walked away—continuing your day as if nothing happened. And the whole time, Sonar was hiding his giggles while recording the whole thing. "Holy shit, that was fucking bad. They're so not impressed, Mal."

But for the demon? That's nothing but a challenge. She just grins wider and crosses her arms. "Playing hard to get, huh? My kinda game."

Now you got yourself a literal demon warrior harassing flirting with you wherever you go. If you think Flambae was extra, this woman is much worse. Pops out of nowhere through her portal and surprises you. Gets really touchy when you're in the break room, arm around your shoulder and leaning so close to your face. Her voice lowers, thickens, and drips with suggestion every time she talks to you.

All the while, both you and Sonar are the victims of this. Especially you. And over time, you get used to her advances, even tolerating her touches to some extent. Toss your own flirtatious remark here and there. But you still jump away when her hands start to wander lower than you'd like, causing you to glare at her and she winks at you.

"I get that your love language is physical touch, but that's straight up harassment." Sonar comments one day, to which Malevola rolls her eyes. "Aren't you like worried about getting reported?"

"I should've been reported already," She retorts, shrugging. "But I wasn't. Something tells me they're interested too."

But for your sake, Malevola downplays all her advances to friendly pats and light flirtation. She's not worried for herself, but she's worried about your reputation. Something she didn't take into consideration at first. So, for the next following days, she keeps her hands to herself and refrains from making you too uncomfortable

In front of everyone, she turns into a saint. Addresses you politely, never lets her eyes linger for a second too long, and doesn't approach you as much as she used to before. Sonar is not the only one confused, even you are baffled at the sudden change. She treats you like you're mere acquaintances, nothing more, and she notices the way your eyes begin to seek hers whenever she avoids yours.

However when she finally gets you alone in the elevator, she pins you to the wall again with her hands rest on your waist. "Okay, I'm done playing pretend. You want this or not?"

You raised an eyebrow at her, but not making a move to remove her hands. "We're at work. We could get into trouble."

Malevola grins down at you, hands falling lower. "We could get into trouble elsewhere then?"

BLONDE BLAZER

This time, you don't stop her.

HR department is either nonexistent or is fucking blind to everything happening in this branch.

Because Blonde Blazer is not exactly subtle when it comes to her little (not-so-secretive) crush towards you. Hell, everyone already knows how much she likes you. How obvious she is just being around your cubicle all of the time and the lingering shoulder touches she does.

Everyone knows, except you.

And it honestly frustrates her, because she's pretty sure she's being as straightforward as she could. Asks you out for lunch or dinner outside the office during your free time. Hovers around you, literally, when you're walking home. You know, just making sure you get home safely.

Even though she knows she needs to be professional, she just can't help the nervous flutter in her chest when she's around you. You unknowingly make her feel like Mandy, and not Blazer. The way you talk to her, as if you could see past her powers and her amulet, makes her hopelessly pining after you.

Everyone else just keeps quiet, and at this point, no one bats an eye anymore. Chase even tells her to give up, Robert advises her to make her intentions known directly, but she ignores both of them because she knows she can do this.

Honestly, if she doesn't know about your past, she'll be convinced your superpower was being oblivious.

Because you honestly can't see the special treatment she's giving you. The praises and compliments that spill out of her mouth. How her voice and gaze softens when around you.

And you just accept everything like it was normal, maybe you honestly think she was being nice.

She even invites Robert for a drink, sitting on top of the billboard again, a bottle in her hand while she's venting her frustrations and he's chugging his own beer with a deadpanned expression.

Blazer with a crush is honestly just like a Golden Retriever. Hopeless, loyal to a fault, adorable yet kinda a mess. She ends up drinking Robert's beer after he offers it, then composes herself once she chucks the empty bottle into the unknown.

"Just tell them how you really feel," Robert shrugs, quite done with the whole ordeal. "What's the worse thing that can happen?"

"Rejection? Resignation? Not being able to talk to them anymore?" Okay, maybe she's a little tipsy now. But honestly, she doesn't fucking care anymore. Maybe she should stop with the whole thing, move on like she did with Phenomaman, but that was easier than this.

Robert claps her shoulder, a look of pity visible on his features. "Hey, don't take it personally. Next time, you can–"

Her phone beeps, a notification, and Blazer holds up a finger as she checks it. She almost shot up to the skies and threw her phone or Robert when she reads your message.

"Soooo, Chase filled me in with the whole thing. Says you're doing all these because you like me? Sorry for being oblivious and not catching on quick :'D"

Then, before she could type a reply, another message shows up.

ROYD

"How about a date tomorrow night? My treat ;))"

Now, Royd is two things: a gearhead and a science nerd. But even with these super awesome traits, he has zero clue how to work on feelings.

He has people taking interest in him before here and there, but again, he's a gearhead and a science nerd. He's not too focused on all those lovey dovey things.

At least that's what he thought before he met you.

You're a Dispatcher, a damn good one at that, and he can't help but admire you and how you run your program.

Unlike with everyone else, he acts super clumsy around you. Doesn't even realize he's fumbling his words when he's talking to you, totally thinks he's doing well however.

As a gearhead, he'll craft you up some gadget that he thinks can help you with your dispatches. Others are confused why you suddenly have this advanced headset (lowkey jealous).

A very hands-on person, Royd will definitely be an acts of service kind of guy. Opens the door for you, fixes up things you don't even need to fix, brings you down to his lab as an excuse he needs your help.

But in reality, he just wants to impress you with his work. You just sit there in the corner, watching him in his element, and flushes whenever you compliment him.

Also, absolutely loves it when you ask questions. About his work, his inventions, his tools. Everything. He just wants to share a piece of his life with you—kind of like a silent invitation for you to accept him.

Even though he doesn't have much idea on how romance works, he's genuinely sweet and thoughtful that it's so natural for him.

You might mistake it as a mere act of kindness however, and he's bummed out when he realizes. Turns to Robert for advice, and will absolutely try to discreetly keep your identity hidden while he explains his dilemma.

Only for Robert to clock him and say your name, "Just ask them out. You've known each other for a while. They've been here longer than I am. Trust me, it's better to take the risk than to lose the chance."

"You think I should?" Royd asks, distracting himself with a part of Robert's suit.

"You definitely should. You never know, they might like you back."

That comforts and inspires Royd, and he immediately thinks of an idea how to ask you out.

The next time he requests your "help" down his lab again, you arrive there shortly and see something you never expect to see.

PHENOMAMAN

A holographic image of you, along with the following words gleaming below. "You don't make me feel like a gearhead or a science nerd. You make me feel special, but not as special as you are."

After his break-up with Blonde Blazer, Phenomaman believes he won't find another one like her.

One as charming, dedicated, admirable, and fiercely empowering. Someone who can keep up with his strength and match it just the same. And that thought causes him to lose motivation.

He's sure he won't find someone else. Maybe not on this planet. No one will compare to her.

But suddenly, you came into the picture. Simple, normal, and completely fragile looking compared to him. Just honestly speaking, he thinks you're physically weaker just because you're human and smaller than him. Though not in a bad way.

But he comes to find that not all strengths to be admired should only be from physical traits or impressive feats.

Sometimes, a human's strength is through their compassion and drive. Seeing you so passionate in guiding your team during dispatch has him reflecting on his preferences. He doesn't normally become attracted to individuals like you, but something about your dedication to your work inspires him.

He starts to become more curious.

Humans, in general, fascinate him. How they interact with each other. How they share their thoughts, emotions, victories, and losses. It took him a while to adjust to this world, and it was admittedly difficult.

But after meeting you, someone who's the entire opposite of him, he becomes open to expanding his perspective.

What do humans call it? A crush? Not physically crushing like how he does with his enemies, but the one they refer to as this fluttery thing in their stomach.

He gets that around you, has zero clue why, but he had never felt it before. Not even around Blazer. He greatly admires his past lover, but maybe that was the reason for their separation. There was a lack of the fluttery feeling in his stomach.

Just pure admiration as an equal and a partner.

So, he begins to hover around you. Trailing behind everywhere you go like a curious puppy. You didn't seem to mind his presence. In fact, you humor him every time and joke about him being your personal guard dog.

He doesn't think he is, but if you are in need of protection, then he won't hesitate to provide you some. He also gives you some of his edible arrangements as a token of his fascination, and he feels the fluttery feeling intensify when you smile at him.

You're the first person to let him feel anything else other than being a superhero.

"Just finishing a report," you turn to the computer and save the file, "but it can wait." The computer shuts down with a press of a button, and then the two of you are covered in darkness, except from the moonlight.

"Dinner?" He offers, watching you pack up your bag.

"Sounds good," when you turn to look at him you can't help but pause, "thank you." He looks so ethereal in the moonlight, you can't help but lean forward.

"No... No problem." It's obvious whatever you're feeling he's feeling too, as he leans forward a little and makes eye contact with you.

It's a quick peck, a test of the waters, but it felt amazing, you couldn't help but lean back in for another. He lets you, leaning himself in more to deepen it.

When you pull back you realize your hands were up on his shoulders, which you leave there because his warmth is comforting.

"I'll pay..." He mutters, almost as if he was out of breath.

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Sonar

Why did you even bother? It wasn't like you cared what he thought... Right?

Is something you find yourself asking as you get ready for your date. It's a casual date, just dinner at a restaurant that isn't super formal. Like an olive garden. But you still find yourself comparing shirts, which one would he like?

You're slipping in a shirt when the doorbell rings, and you're pacing to put it in and get there so he isn't kept waiting. The least you can do is let him in while you finish getting ready, have him sit on the couch for a little.

"Hey hottie." He greets you as soon as the door is open. When you give him a once over you see he's holding a candy bar.

"I didn't know what to bring..." He mutters, seeing you stare at it. "People give gifts on dates right? A bouquet felt so overrated."

"You didn't have enough to buy one." You state more than ask.

"I didn't have enough to buy one." He confirms, looking down in shame.

"All that talk about Harvard and being rich, can't even afford some flowers." You joke, letting him inside. He strolls in and sets the candy bar on the kitchen counter.

"Hey, I'll have you know I have thousands in crypto currency." He states, trying to save face from the embarrassment of the situation.

"Sure you do, sweetheart," patting his shoulder in a comforting manner you begin to lean on his side, "I believe you."

"So reassuring." The laugh he lets out after lets you know he isn't actually hurt about it, and finds it just as funny.

With a smile you rub his shoulder before standing up again.

"I need to finish getting ready. You stay here," you lean forward to give him a quick peck, "don't ruin my furniture." Then you turn around and head back to your bedroom to get your shoes on.

"Holy shit." He whispers.

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Flambae

"You see, it's an art." Flambae says, a dumb smirk on his face like he knows what he's talking about.

"Right..." You respond, taking a swig of beer. "Working out is an art, I totally get it."

While the sarcasm doesn't fly over his head like you'd think, he chooses to ignore it in turn for nodding like he was a genius.

"You get it!" He smiles, raising his beer up in cheers before taking a drink himself.

When he had invited you out to the bar, you had expected more from him. While it wasn't verbally agreed on as a date, you figured it was. Some drinks and more than friendly conversation with some flirting. Simple night, right?

He kept talking about random things, and while you loved that about him, you wished he'd stop for just a moment so you can get a little break from his nonsense.

"Actually, that reminds me!" He starts up again, setting his beer down on the bar counter so he can talk, but he doesn't get the chance.

You grab his shoulders and pull him toward you, pressing your lips against his. That shut him up real quickly, as he instead wrapped his arms around your shoulders to pull you closer.

When you part soon after, he's blue screening.

"Please shut up, just this once." You ask, pressing another kiss against him quickly before going back to your beer.

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Invisigal

The drive in theater was your idea, stealing the candy and popcorn was her idea, added together it made the perfect date. It's no secret she loved movies, albeit she hasn't seen many throughout her life, so why not show her some of the classics?

Mothra vs Godzilla was playing on the big screen, the sound playing through the speaker of your car as it plays on. It was still the beginning of the movie, so not much was misses.

"I got the goods," she appears outside your car, holding a bunch of stuff in her arms. You can count popcorn, drinks, and an ungodly amount of candy. "Let me in, it's cold as shit out here."

The door wasn't locked, but you make a show of leaning over the console to shove the passenger door open for her. Graciously she gets in and definitely doesn't drop a bunch of stuff onto the floor of your car, that you definitely won't have to pick up later.

"Shit, my bad." She mutters, trying to pick it up but only making the mess worse.

"Courtney," you say, and she looks up to you with a someone nervous face, "it's fine."

"I can clean it up-"

"I said it's fine," grabbing her hand, you pull her closer to you, "now watch the movie, it's a classic."

While she doesn't say anything else, after she nods to show she's listening and then leans in for a quick peck on your lips. It's over before it started, and her attention is immediately on the movie after. Though you can see the blush on her cheeks.

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Coupé

A stakeout wasn't exactly you're ideal date, but you'd take what you could get with her. It was obvious she wasn't the most romantic person ever, the vulnerable feelings of being in a relationship were not her forte, yet she still decided you were worthy of her love.

Sitting atop a car, you scrolled on your phone while she kept watch of the area. Honestly you didn't care about what she was doing, just happy to be along for the ride. The fact that she let you tag along meant a lot to you.

Though, you wish you brought a blanket or something, as you shivered from the cold. She insisted you both sit on top of the car, outside in the cold, but it was cold enough to seriously debate sitting inside of the car without her.

"Are you cold?" She asks, not at all turning to look at you, her eyes focused on whatever the target was.

"Just a bit, I'll be alright." You mutter, though the physical shiver that your body makes says otherwise.

"C'mere." She motions you over with her hand, patting the spot right next to her. Who are you to argue?

Scooching over to where she ordered you, she wraps her arm around you. You'd think that'd be it, but she directs your head with her arm towards her, turning so she can press a rough kiss on your lips.

"Better?"

"Y-yeah... Much better." You whisper staring at her as she faces forward again and continues her stakeout.

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Punch Up

The weekly tradition would be kept up, even after a horrible day. Especially after a horrible day, actually. You two talk into the shitty dive bar that's down the street from your apartment, and take the booth you two usually sit at.

"Rough day." He mutters, relaxing into the booth seats that are peeling for years of rough use.

"You're telling me."

"I am telling you." He waves a waitress over. Intentional or not what he said was funny, and you can't help but let out a laugh, to which he gives you a funny look.

"Nothing," you mutter, "It's nothing."

A waitress comes over and takes your drink orders, well, sort of. You've been there so many times that all the seasoned staff know what you guys get off the top of their head. You're embarrassed about it, while Colm seems proud of being known as a regular.

"I'm so tired." He sighs out before he takes a big chug of his beer, half of it gone in one big gulp. You'll never get used to it.

You hum in response, and take a sip of your beverage as well, eyes kept on him as you do so. There's a trail of beer running down from his mouth and onto his shirt, must've been a real rough day for him if he's being that messy of a drinker.

"I know something that could make your day better..." You drawl, taking another swig of liquid courage as he looks up at you with a questioning look.

Before he can properly ask what you mean, you set your drink down and swoop in, pressing your lips to his. He reciprocates, and it turns into a mini make out session.

"Definitely better now." He whispers when you pull back.

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Malevola

It was supposed to be a quick trip to the supermarket to get something for dinner, but of course Malevola couldn't make it easy. She's leading the cart you're pushing to different isles that have nothing to do with cup ramen and throwing stuff in it as she pleases.

"Who's gonna pay for all this? And you better not say anything about taxpayers or that it's owed to you." You groan, rubbing your hands over your tired eyes as she throws in another pack of cookies.

"Relax," she soothes, looking back at you with a smile before leading the cart down the aisle, "I got a big bonus at work for being on good behavior."

Somehow you don't believe her, but it's the best possible excuse she's ever used as far as you remember, so you let it go.

"Alright then.."

She continues her antics, though sometimes she turns around to show you different products to ask your opinion on what brand you like. For a demon, she's pretty caring about your preferences.

"How about these?" She shows you some candy in a bag, and before you can get a proper look, she throws them back on the shelf, "No, those have that texture you don't like. The grainy one, right?

It warmed your heart that she remembered that, and you smile when you nod at her. She looks so proud at herself for remembering, her chest puffed out and a triumphant smile gracing her face.

"I'm the best girlfriend ever." She says to herself, talking around the cart so she can wrap her arm around your shoulders. "Aren't I?"

"You sure are, I'm so lucky to have you." Humoring her ego boost, you lean into her and press a kiss over her cheek. She hums in response, and before you can pull away, she's pushing your head back in to place a kiss on your lips.

"Good girlfriends get real kisses." She mutters before pressing her lips against yours once again.

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Golem

It was good your living room as big, as it's where you spend most of your time with Bruno. He's currently laying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling while you eat some fruits.

"So, how's that new guy?" You ask, offering a big chunk of watermelon to him. He graciously accepts as he answers.

"He's fine, bit of a wuss but he'll be alright..." He leans his head against your legs in a small show of appreciation and comfort.

With a hum you go back to eating your fruit, no use in small talk with him. The comforting quiet that rests over you two is something that you've come to cherish, a norm for him due to not being talkative.

And so, it continues like that. The quiet being peaceful as you eat fruit and occasionally offer him some, though you know he's just waiting for you to be done so he can have the plastic tray the fruit came in.

"You have a good day?" He mutters, directing his attention to you instead of the ceiling. You're much nicer to look at then a ceiling in his opinion, though he'd never tell you that.

"It was good, yeah. Much better now that you're here with me." You smile and move to sit on the ground next to his head.

He adjusts his position to rest his head on your lap slightly, looking up at your face with a smile of his own.

"Good." Is all he can offer in return, but you appreciate it.

Leaning down, you press a kiss to his forehead and wrap your arms around his head, framing his face with your arms. A quiet purr comes from him from the warmth you're offering him, and he gives himself the confidence to very lightly press his lips to yours. It's difficult with his big form, but it works anyways.

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Prism

You were sitting in her bathroom, on the toilet, watching her do her makeup. Sleeping over always meant she'd make you stay with her all night and the next morning, this time was no exception.

"What do you think? Blue or red?" She holds out two different lipsticks towards you as she uses her other hand to blend her foundation.

"Uh..." Still groggy from sleep, you take the two from her and open them to look at the color, "I'm not sure..."

"Pick one, c'mon it isn't that hard sweetheart." She mocks, pushing your head lightly.

"Then you pick." And you'd think your response was shooting her with how repulsed she looked. Like the mere thought of her deciding was going to kill her.

"Absolutely not, I want you to pick." Her tone sounds mean, but you know she isn't at all mad. Just that morning fog you know she gets.

"Okay, fine..." You look down at the colors, then put the cap on the red one and hand her the blue one. "Here, your best color."

She seems satisfied with your answer, grabbing the open lipstick and applying it gently to her lips. It's a mesmerizing sight, and you've never wished you could be a lipstick more.

"Look good baby?" Her questions snaps you out of your daydreaming, making you look up at her as she purses her lips.

"Uh, yeah, looking amazing Ali." She scoffs at the nickname but smiles down at you anyways.

"Thank you, baby." She leans down and presses a kiss against your lips, then your cheek, then walks out of the bathroom to change her clothes. She doesn't tell you that her kisses left lipstick marks on you.

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No Waterboy or Phenomaman, sorry!

Uﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـU

Down there- beneath abandoned warehouses, shuttered arcades, places no one bothers to remember anymore- you fight under flickering lights and a crowd that smells like sweat, copper, and money changing hands. The crowd presses close, shoulder to shoulder, faces half-lit and hungry.

They don’t chant your name. They don’t know it. You’re a nickname scrawled on a betting board, a silhouette stepping into chalked circles and bloodstained concrete. A thing to be watched, measured, and spent.

Your power doesn’t announce itself with spectacle. It seeps.

Your senses sharpen first. Sound separates into layers- the scrape of boots on concrete, the flutter of breath behind clenched teeth, the nervous heartbeat of someone who’s already decided they’re going to lose. Smell follows. Adrenaline blooms sharp and sour. Fear has a thin, metallic edge. Old blood is everywhere, soaked so deep into the floor it never leaves, a permanent ghost-scent that clings to your tongue. You taste the air and know who’s injured, who’s bluffing, who’s lying to themselves, who’s one bad hit away from collapsing.

Your teeth ache when it starts. Pressure along your jaw, a familiar warning. Your canines lengthen just enough to cut your lip when you smile, and you let the blood show because it makes people hesitate. They always do.

Muscle follows instinct. Your strength isn’t flashy, it’s dense. Every movement carries more weight than it should, bones reinforced by something feral and stubborn. You crouch low without thinking, spine loose, shoulders rolling as you stalk the chalk circle. When you spring, it’s fast enough to steal breath from the room. When you land, the concrete cracks.

You fight like an animal because you learned from one.

Claws half-formed at your fingertips- never fully out, never fully hidden- catch skin, fabric, bone. You don’t slash wildly. You hook, pull, unbalance. You learned early how to use teeth without killing, where to bite to end a fight without ending a life. Shoulder. Forearm. Anywhere that makes pain scream louder than pride.

When rage spikes too high, your vision goes red at the edges. That’s when handlers shout your name- your nickname- because uncontrolled fury scares the bettors. You force it down, swallow the growl vibrating in your chest, because control keeps you fed. Control keeps you alive.

Every fight etched something into you.

How to breathe through cracked ribs while your lungs burn. How to roll with a hit so your spine doesn’t snap. How to let someone think they’ve won, just long enough to take their legs out from under them.

You learned that hesitation smells like fear. You learned mercy tastes like blood.

So when the door explodes inward- when clean air and harsh light flood the space wrong- you don’t wait to understand.

Your ears flatten instinctively. Your pupils blow wide. The crowd’s scent changes all at once- panic, confusion, money pulling back fast. Too many new smells. Too many heartbeats moving with purpose.

You bare your teeth, crouched low in the chalk circle, breath tearing in and out of your chest. You don’t know their names yet. You don’t know the uniforms mean help. All you know is that the crowd goes quiet, and quiet in the ring has only ever meant one thing: run or fight.

You choose fight.

Your power flares instinctively. You vault forward, using the wall as leverage, kicking off hard enough to crater concrete. One of them- big, loud, all muscle- goes flying when you slam into him, momentum snapping his feet out from under him. You hit him mid-chest, all weight and force, and roll on landing, already moving, already choosing the next threat.

Someone tries to flank you. You feel it before you see it- the displacement of air, the spike of intent, the subtle shift in heartbeat behind you. You spin and strike, precise and brutal, claws clipping armor, a blow placed to disable, not kill. Old habits die hard.

But they keep coming.

You draw deeper, let more of the Wolf bleed through despite the warning burn in your joints. Your breath comes faster, chest tight, vision tunneling. You take another down. Then another. Teeth flash. Claws scrape. Someone screams.

These weren’t panicked enforcers or sloppy hunters chasing a payout. Their heartbeats were steady. Their spacing deliberate. They covered each other without looking. Even when you slammed one into the wall hard enough to crater concrete, the rest adjusted instantly, closing the gap without hesitation.

That kind of coordination meant danger.

You snarl and lash out again, claws scraping armor, teeth snapping inches from a throat that should have been open. Someone- huge, unyielding- plants themselves in your path like a living wall. You slam into them and feel it immediately: they don’t budge. Stone.

Your claws screech against them uselessly, vibration rattling up your arms. The figure doesn’t strike back right away. They wait. Anchor. Let you exhaust yourself.

Fire flares to your left- not wild, not hungry, but carefully leashed. It drives you where they want you to go, away from exits, away from shadows. You leap for higher ground and nearly make it- until sound detonates around you, vibrating straight through bone and teeth, scrambling your balance midair.

You hit hard. Roll. Scramble back to your feet with a snarl tearing out of you.

Light blooms in your peripheral vision- bright, fractured, disorienting. Not pain. Confusion. Your senses, usually your greatest weapon, turn against you, overloaded by color and motion and too many inputs at once. Your hackles stand on end. Your heart pounds.

You still fight.

You always fight.

You vault again, kick off a wall, come down teeth-first toward the biggest threat in reach- and suddenly there are hands on you. Strong hands. Coordinated hands.

Manpower was never something the ring prepared you for. Down there, fights were one-on-one. Maybe two. Clean numbers. This isn’t that.

You thrash, kick, twist, crack someone in the jaw hard enough to feel bone give- but the weight piles on. You feel your strength spike- and then choke, nowhere to go, trapped under weight and coordination.

Someone pins your shoulders. Someone locks your legs. Restraints bite cold against skin. Your growl breaks into something raw, torn straight out of your chest.

A voice cuts through the chaos- calm, steady, maddeningly gentle.

“Easy. Easy. We’re not here to hurt you.”

You laugh- sharp, breathless, a sound scraped raw from your throat.

Everyone says that before they do.

As the world presses in and your power gutters low, one thought cuts through the haze, cold and certain: you were never supposed to survive this long.

And yet- here you are.

For half a second- maybe less- the noise inside you drops away. Your chest heaves. Saliva strings between bared teeth. Your senses, overstimulated and frayed, struggle to recalibrate. The ring is gone. The crowd is gone. No betting board. No handlers shouting numbers like prayers.

Stillness has always been the most dangerous moment. Stillness is when the cage locks. Stillness is when they decide you’re done being useful.

A growl rips out of you before thought can catch up.

You surge.

Your strength flares violently, Wolf crashing back to the surface in a panic-fueled spike. Restraints groan. Someone swears. Your head snaps forward, teeth flashing for a throat that jerks away just in time. Claws tear free at your fingertips, scraping sparks off armor as you thrash.

“No- no, don’t-” someone shouts.

Too late.

You kick, hard enough to throw weight off you for a heartbeat. You twist, wrenching an arm free, shoulder screaming as something strains wrong. Pain only feeds it. Pain always fed it. You learned that lesson early.

Fire flares brighter in response- not to burn you, but to keep distance. The stone braces harder, weight doubling, pinning you back down. Sound crashes again, tighter this time, compressing the space around your skull until your vision swims.

You fight anyway.

Because stopping has never kept you safe.

“Sedative,” someone says- sharp, decisive, regret threaded through it.

You don’t hear the name. You don’t hear anything clearly anymore. Your heart is pounding too loud, senses tearing at themselves, every smell and sound screaming threat.

A prick at your neck.

You snap toward it instinctively, teeth grazing fabric, breath coming out in a feral snarl. You feel the sting a half-second later- cool spreading fast beneath your skin.

“No-” you choke, body bucking. “No, no-”

Strong hands hold your head steady. Not rough. Not cruel. Unmoving.

“I know,” a voice says close to your ear. Low. Anchoring. “I know you don’t want this. But you’re hurting yourself.”

The words don’t make sense. They slide off you like rain.

Your limbs feel heavy. Too heavy. The Wolf thrashes, confused, furious, slamming against the sudden fog rolling through your veins. Your jaw clenches. Your vision blurs at the edges, colors smearing together.

You fight it.

Of course you do.

Your claws scrape uselessly now. Your kicks lose force. Your growl breaks apart into something breathless and broken. The strength drains out of you in uneven waves, leaving shaking in its wake.

Someone catches you before your head hits the floor. The last thing you register is how carefully they lower you down.

When you wake, the first thing you register is wrongness.

Not pain- though that’s there too, a low, all-over ache like your body’s been rung out and hung up to dry- but constraint. Pressure around your jaw. Something firm and unforgiving strapped over your mouth, cradling your muzzle and teeth, forcing your bite closed before you can even test it.

You snarl on instinct.

It comes out muffled. Useless.

The room smells wrong too. Clean. Antiseptic. Under it, familiar things- stone dust, sweat- but no blood. No crowd. No copper tang clinging to the air. Lights hum softly overhead, steady and unthreatening in a way that makes your skin crawl.

A low sound crawls up your throat, vibrating against the inside of the muzzle. You twist your wrists, flex your fingers, feel the bands tighten in response, reacting to strain before you can build momentum. Smart restraints. Built for people like you.

“Hey,” a voice says, gentle but loud enough to cut through the haze. “Easy there, champ.”

You turn your head sharply- and freeze.

He’s huge. Bigger than anyone in the ring ever was. Broad shoulders, thick arms, posture relaxed like he’s deliberately making himself non-threatening. He’s sitting on a chair pulled backward, forearms resting on the back, giving you space he doesn’t actually need to give.

“Good morning,” he adds. “Or… afternoon? Hard to tell with all the lights. You scared the hell outta us back there.”

Your lips curl beneath the muzzle. You bare teeth you can’t use.

He notices anyway.

“Yeah, okay, fair,” he admits, holding up his hands. “I’d be pissed too.”

Stone shifts nearby.

“You are awake,” the creature says. His voice is low, gravelly, carefully measured. “That is good.”

He looks down at you, expression carved into something permanently neutral. When he speaks, his voice is low and steady, like boulders settling.

“You’re secure,” he continues. “You’re not in danger.”

You thrash again, harder this time, rage flaring hot and immediate. The restraints flare in response, humming louder. Your muscles scream. The muzzle digs into your jaw.

Punch Up winces. “Okay, see, that’s the opposite of what he just said.”

Your glare snaps back to him.

“Name’s Punch Up,” he adds, thumbing his chest. “Big guy’s Golem. We’re with the Z Team.”

That word means nothing to you.

You jerk your head side to side, testing the muzzle, breath coming fast through your nose. 

Your senses scrape for exits, threats, angles- anything. The room is built against that. Rounded corners. Reinforced walls. No shadows deep enough to hide in.

Golem shifts slightly, just enough to block your line of sight to the door without making a show of it.

“You were sedated for your own safety,” he says. “You were pushing past structural limits. Bone density reinforcement or not, your joints were starting to fail.”

You let out a harsh, broken sound that might have been a laugh if you still remembered how.

Punch Up’s grin fades a notch. “Yeah. You kinda went full blender mode. We weren’t thrilled about dogpiling a kid, for the record.”

Kid.

The word hits harder than the restraints.

Your breathing stutters. Anger flares, sharp and humiliating, heat crawling up your spine. You strain again, not because it’ll work, but because stopping feels like death.

Golem doesn’t flinch. He does, however, lower himself slightly- bringing his face closer to your level without looming.

“You’re not in trouble,” he says, slow and deliberate. “You’re not going back to the ring.”

Your eyes burn.

Punch Up scratches at the back of his neck. 

“Look, I know that’s what everyone says,” he adds, quieter now. “But we don’t bust kids out of fighting pits just to toss them into another cage. That’d be… pretty messed up.”

You stare at them both, chest heaving, instincts screaming liar liar liar.

Still. They haven’t hit you. Haven’t threatened you. Haven’t called you by a betting name.

Golem reaches up- not toward you, but to the side of the table- and taps a control. The restraints loosen just enough to ease the pressure without giving you room to fight. The adjustment is careful. Considerate.

“You’re safe here,” he repeats.

Punch Up shifts his weight, boots scuffing softly against the floor. He glances at Golem, then back at you, reading the tension coiled tight in your shoulders, the way your jaw keeps working against the muzzle like you might still try to bite through it.

“Okay,” he says, tone changing- less jokes, more honesty. “We should probably talk about that.”

He points at your face. Not accusing. Matter-of-fact.

“The muzzle stays on for now,” Punch Up continues. “Not as a punishment. Not because we think you’re some kind of monster.”

You snarl again, sharp and frustrated, the sound deadened by reinforced straps. Your teeth ache with the memory of impact- of how close you’d gotten. How easy it would’ve been.

Punch Up winces, but he doesn’t step back.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That right there? That’s why.”

Golem’s voice rumbles in, calm as bedrock. 

“Your bite force spiked past baseline human limits during the engagement. You aimed for the neck at least twice.”

You freeze.

Punch Up nods, lips pressing thin. “Once was instinct. Twice was panic. Neither makes you evil. But it does mean that until your system settles, we’re not risking somebody losing their throat because your body thinks it’s still in a kill-or-be-killed pit.”

He crouches slightly, bringing himself closer to eye level without crowding you.

“Down there, tearing someone’s throat out probably meant you survived another night,” he says. “Up here? It means we’re scraping someone off the floor and telling their family it was an ‘operational hazard.’”

His jaw tightens.

“And we don’t do that.”

You breathe hard through your nose, chest rising and falling, every instinct screaming that he’s wrong- that this is still a cage, just cleaner. Still control. Still people deciding how dangerous you’re allowed to be.

Golem places one massive hand on the edge of the table. Not on you. Never on you.

“The restraint is temporary,” he says. “It will come off when you demonstrate control- or when your power stabilizes enough that it isn’t necessary.”

Punch Up exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Think of it like this,” he adds, softer now. “It’s not there to keep you from hurting us.”

He meets your eyes, expression steady, sincere.

Sonar who jokes about taking you in doggy but can't bring himself to, he loves seeing your face and hearing your whines to much. Always shows up when you and anyone else are fucking because he hears you whining and can't stop himself from needing to see you.

Flambae who immediately starts pulling at your ears and tail, never enough to actually hurt but enough you hear you whine for him to stop. He will take you in doggy, pointing out that the dog is being fucked like a bitch.

Punch Up who always gives your tail a quick tug as he walk by, laughing when you whine and move it away from him. He keeps pulling away from the others to bully his length into your mouth, admiring and feeling up the marks left behind by the other. Teasing you for all the marks as he cums, cleaning you up before pulling you back to the others. (He asks everyone which marks was theres.)

Prism who loves dressing you up, dying your hair, ears and tail with dog safe pet dye. (You don't need the dog version but she can't help herself.) You two don't fuck often but she can't help but to torture you a little, often cockwarming you while doing things on her phone. Waiting until you're whining, digging your fingers into her hips and thrusting up before she starts moving. She makes sure you're clean and pampered before she goes.

Malevola who gives the best scratches, she's able to steal your attention whenever she walks into the room. Oh but how she loves seeing her scratches, her marks, over your body. How she tucks her head into your neck to leave bite marks, she goes crazy seeing her all over you. Also makes sure you're cleaned and pampered before cuddling.

Golem who, no matter what leaves you covered in mud. He rarely needs sexual stress relief, content with hearing you yap or run around him. But those other times consist of him giving you a handjob, and it's weirdly good. He makes sure you get cleaned up before handing you off to someone else.

Coupe who loves hearing you whine as she drags a blade across your skin, but she can't pull herself to make you bleed. She can't help but to take control, riding you until you start crying from overstimulation or cumming dry. Does actually pamper you afterwards, makes sure you're okay and clean before leaving. (She has been found cradling your head against her chest in the breakroom,)

Phenomaman who doesn't really understand the whole hybrid thing (you look nothing like Sonar?) so he learns though the others, and they teach him everything you like. He often confuses your whining and tears for being negative, so he never comes to you for stress relief, scared he'd hurt you.

Waterboy who gets so embarrassed whenever you offer, god forbid he sees you and another person going at it. When he finally accepts your offer he's shaking, he really wants to touch your ears but scared to get them wet, so guide his hands. You will have to take control, ride him until he starts crying. Then he tries to help you clean up but you just become completely drenched.