#hand wave sensor

[cinakira]

double function IR sensor switch (hand wave sensor and door trigger sensor )for DC12v Led lights or led strips .

Compared with our common door trigger sensor or hand wave sensor ,this one can make lights gradually on and off which is better for our eyes .

door trigger sensor #wardrobe door sensor #cabinet door trigger sensor switch #12v cabinet door trigger sensor switch#led cabinet light sensor

[lymtw]

The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.”

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.

[teojira]

I saw that you had transformers on your fandom list, will you be willing to write a 'bot of choice x human reader jealousy/protectiveness fic? Like in that one scene from Transformers 2 where the Deception Pretender tried to seduce Sam but Bee absolutely wasn't having that but had to stay in car mode?

[Aren't you supposed to be more mature than this?]

Summary: Optimus knows better than to get attached to you (too late), he can't help but side eye you and a stranger interacting. (Based on Knightverse Optimus, after ROTB!)

Word count: 800+ words!

Pronouns: They/them

Warnings: Optimus is bad at feelings, Optimus being down bad, extremely self indulgent. Mainly Optimus' Pov as well! Lmk if I need to tag anything!

A/N: Everyone who knows me knows of my obsession and love for this man it's so bad, I have him tattooed and have a whole ass shrine I love HIMMM, Thank you sm for the request! He is the love of my life.

Optimus Prime has been called many things, many of which are true, things he'd accept with pride.

A great leader, a good friend, a valuable teammate, A war criminal.

A jealous bot was never one of them, until recently.

He wasn't sure when he started to take a shine towards you. Was it after Unicron? When he held you in his servos, cradling you to his chest as he transformed back into his bipedal form, only letting go of you after the confused looks from Bee and Mirage.

Maybe it was a while after that, when you offered to help clean him up, Noah was too busy rebuilding Mirage to offer his services to the big man himself.

Optimus could never wipe the feeling of your small hands gently running across his frame, taking extra care to mend any scratches you found, constantly checking in to make sure he was comfortable.

He's ashamed to admit, but he kept shuddering under your touch, his senses overwhelmed by your presence. Every time his cooling fans turned on, he'd wave it off as it was just hot outside. (it's 60 degrees out, liar.)

He tries to recharge that night, but the feeling in his chassis makes him restless. He can see his sensors go haywire at the mere thought of you. He is so fucked, he shuts his eyes and groans deeply, his mask shooting up to mask the sound, lest he wakes the others.

Primus help him.

With his new revelation, Optimus tries his best to distance himself towards you, always making excuses as to why he can't drive you home or to work (a flicker of jealously when Arcee offers, no one catches his digits curling ever so slightly into his palm), saying he must go on patrol for the time being. He waves you off when you try and care for him, asking if he'd like any help with any scrapes and dents, saying he can live with them, he's been through worse.

Its only natural that you'd give him some space, that's the kind of person you are, kind, loving, respectful, loyal to a fault, but it doesn't escape his notice when your smile falls after he politely tells you you're not needed, his spark aching when you turn around to go find another bot.

Optimus watches you now, stationed on the street.

He has no right to be upset when you're stopped outside of the garage by an older man, the man so clearly taking interest in you while you're very politely listening and nodding, shooting that oh so pretty smile to a man who he's sure is not fit to be anywhere near you, not worthy of the warm smile you wear.

It makes him seethe in jealousy, and it's scary.

He can not remember a time when he had ever been jealous. He's a prime. He was supposed to be a calm and collected leader and yet. And yet, he's so close to blowing his hor-

You suddenly whirl towards him. If he was any better of a man, he wouldn't immediately think of how cute you looked, how your lips moved as you let out a yelp.

It isn't until that thought passes his mind that he realizes he used his truckers horn. Embarrassment trickles through his body, although now he has your attention, and you are making your way towards him. The man following behind you keeps the conversation going, not catching a hint.

Optimus is ready to honk again, especially if this man keeps following so close behind you, way too close for comfort.

You beat him to it, turning around as you rest a hand on Optimus’ cabins door handle, shooting the man a polite smile.

“Sorry about that, but my husband is actually here to pick me up, so I have to go. Have a good day!” And You hoist yourself up, quickly buckling your seat belt, gently patting the dashboard in hopes Optimus fucking drives before you're bothered anymore.

Optimus’ processor buffers, his engine revving as he goes on autopilot to tale you both away. Does he know where to drive to? Certainly no, but you're with him now. He's sure you could ask him to take you to distant planets, and he'd make it work for you and only you.

“Thank you for the save, big guy.” You smile brightly at his steering wheel, your eyes lovingly trailing across the autobot symbol that sits in the center.

“It was nothing, I am glad to be there to assist.” The cabin rumbles with his voice, soothing your anxiety. You curl into your seat, resting your head.

“Where are we going?”

“If I'm not mistaken, you mentioned wanting to go to upstate New York to drive along some scenic routes? I'll gladly be your escort.”

He is so ridiculously falling for you, but he can't bring himself to hate it, especially when you excitedly hop in your seat.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[sightseertrespasser]

Sunny Side Screw-Up part 3

Bluestreak comes up with an entirely new way to be murdered, Sunstreaker gets drooled on and Sideswipe is not a medical professional.

Credit to @keferon for coming up with the OG AU!

———————————————————————

Tacnet Dilation: {^#%

Bluestreaks plating prickled with dings and dents from the spray of rocks torn up by his wheels.

He was redlining on nothing but fumes and fear. No matter how hard he pushed himself they were still right there.

Sprinting.

Impossibly fast for something on legs and not wheels.

Sunstreaker was on his right side, regardless of how frantically Bluestreak swerved, his distance to the yellow mecha remained the same. Like they were fragging magnetized together.

Close behind was Sideswipe, soaking up all of Bluestreaks peripheral awareness like a goddamn black hole.

The desert was scorching. He’d run out of coolant and Bluestreak had the horrifying revelation that he could feel something wet dripping out of his frame.

Bits of his internals were melting.

Comms weren’t working.

Tacnet wasn’t working.

His own voice wasn’t working.

The Earth was a fragmented blur that repeated in pattern every few miles.

Bluestreak tried something different and was rewarded by running over a large sharp rock he hadn’t seen coming. The ripping away of momentum was enough for Sideswipe to make the final lunge.

The red earth and blue sky streaked by at a diagonal across his vision.

Kicking futilely at the dirt, Bluestreak was wrestled sunwards, arms clamped in place behind his back.

He expected to feel his doorwings to be crushed and pinned, yet despite having his back pressed against Sideswipes front, Bluestreak felt nothing but empty air.

His scans weren’t making any sense. Mind numbing random waves crashed over his sensor net from the mecha beside him. Was it on purpose? It made everything go fuzzy around the edges in bright starbursts of feedback. He couldn’t understand it.

Giving up on reading his surroundings, Bluestreak started frantically pinging his doorwings for help.

He didn’t have time to think further. Swiftly, Sideswipe forced them both into a kneel as Sunstreaker swept towards them. Heavy claw attachments almost brushing the ground for how low the mecha crouched, stalking ever closer.

Bluestreak tried again to talk. To scream. But nothing was responding. He frame wouldn’t listen to him.

No one was coming.

No one could.

He was completely isolated. But not alone.

The blue tinge of Sideswipes visor hovered at the edge of Bluestreaks vision. The subtle weight of his head resting on his shoulder like a lover.

Bluestreak couldn’t turn his helm.

A servos breath away from his face, Sunstreaker’s visor hung in space.

Impassive.

Emotionless.

Alien.

Bluestreak tried to jerk. To kick. To make anything come out of his vocalizer. He wasn’t even venting anymore. He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped.

Despite the lack of facial features. The lack of fields. Bluestreak felt the moment they both shifted their focus down, where his spark was screaming on his behalf.

Pops of static was all that came out of his mouth. Numbly, Bluestreak was jostled, limbs still unresponsive.

Sunstreaker reached out a hand to his chassis.

And knocked.

Freezing, Bluestreaks doorwings locked in place as his optics rapidly jittered between the hunter and his goal. He croaked, body suddenly feeling ice cold.

I can’t.

The pressure on his shoulder kept up and the knocking came again. Slightly more insistent.

I can’t.

Desperately trying to shake his helm No, the praxian could barely twitch. Pleading with his mostly frozen face to stop stop stop.

The knock came harder.

A haze of errors colored his peripheral vision.

Tacnet Dilation: #==%

He kept calling for his brothers.

Tacnet Dilation: ^#=%

He didn’t feel well.

Tacnet Dilation: [===%

They wouldn’t hear him here.

The knocking stopped.

Before he could react, Bluestreak felt the press of a hand against his face.

The shift was quick enough his processor failed to manufacture a matching visual, disjointing the sensation from reality. The touch was soft enough and such a deviation from the thread of what was happening that Bluestreaks thoughts stuttered to a squealing stop.

Smashing out of defrag, he came online with a half cut off, “GUH.”

Leaning into his space, Sunstreaker was tightly holding him upright by the shoulder. His hand retreated from Bluestreaks face as the Praxian subconsciously crossed his arms over his spark. Shuddering.

Just in front of them, Sideswipe was exactly as they’d left him, about where Sunstreaker had ended up in Blues defrag.

A hand waved in front of his blank face, unconsciously drawing the Praxians focus back to the other twin.

The yellow mecha tilted his head at him and held up the “OK” symbol.

Optics wide and over bright, Bluestreak turned his fans back on full blast and shot out a couple small rocks and a cloud of dust. He checked his processor. His internal temperature had risen well above comfortable levels from sitting in the desert Sun without running his vents

Coughing, Bluestreak mimicked Sunstreakers gesture. Croaking out a rough, “I’m okay.”

Hesitantly the hunter mecha released his shoulder, nodding slowly.

Still recovering, Bluestreak took his time resetting his systems, stretching and cringing at the sound of a few transformation seams popping back into place.

“Okay so, forcing myself into defrag seemed like a great idea at the time. It’s technically the same as human sleeping. I think?” Bluestreak leaned back on his elbows while Sunstreaker watched him closely. “And there was no way I was going to pull off holding completely silent while conscious so I shut down everything but my proximity sensors and my comms-”

His face and doorwings dropped.

“Oh fucking slag my comms.”

Flinching, Bluestreak cringed and squinted internally as he checked his backlog.

Over thirty incoherent messages sent to Prowl and Smokescreen. Each.

The former was currently pinging him every 30 seconds in a tightly measured way that appeared professional (if not a bit mircomanage-y) to any outside observer, but that Bluestreak knew was Prowls way of pacing a hole through the floor.

Groaning into his servos, Bluestreak prepared to apologize for what was ultimately the fault of an overheated defrag with no recharge.

————

“Sideswipe.”

His idiot counterpart groaned in response over the radio.

“Sideswipe wake up.”

Something that vaguely started out as “Che ore” before devolving into mumbled nonsense was Sunstreakers only indication of intelligent life within the red mecha. How he slept through the cacophony the radio had been assaulted with earlier was beyond him.

“The mecha had a nightmare.”

Finally, Sunstreaker heard the telltale scratch of a microphone being readjusted. “Say again?”

“The mecha had a nightmare.”

There was a pregnant pause as his self appointed “Twin” tried to decipher what he’d just stated. The sound of a shitty cot creaking echoed across the connection as Sideswipe sat up.

“…so do you want me to sing him a lullaby or something?”

Sunstreaker was going to kick his ass for real next time.

For now, he settled for throwing a rock at Sideswipes mechas head, enjoying the slightly delayed sound of its impact through the radio.

“Ahem, you will behave in front of guests young man. No throwing stones in the garden!” Sides chided as he put on a ridiculous British nanny accent.

“Shut it you dumb bastard. Did you not hear what I said?”

The microphone shifted again as Sideswipe moved from his bunk to the pilots seat. “What, that the new guy had a nightmare? Yeah man, that’s kinda standard out here. Shit Sunny, it took you two weeks to get through the night without yelling in your sleep after our first drop.”

And it took you over two weeks to stop sleepwalking, fuckin hypocrite.

Sucking in air between his teeth, Sunstreaker measured out the last of his patience. “The mecha had a nightmare.”

It started out sensibly. Sunstreaker was on watch and invited Angel mech to sit with him. He had some plans to draw in the dirt to figure out a bit more of where the hell he came from, but then Angel curled up on himself and looked ready to puke.

Which, fine. The mecha was freakishly emotive but if this was some kind of super expensive prototype then sure why not. The pilot definitely shouldn’t have been out here and Sunstreaker had half a mind to politely tear whoever put them in there a new one.

Afterwards the mecha looked like it powered down and for the first time since they’d met, Angel went quiet.

Only slightly disappointed he couldn’t keep listening to him ramble, Sunstreaker resigned to keeping watch alone.

Then there was the thunk against his left shoulder.

Still appearing to be powered down, the mystery mech was leaning against his own.

Okay, he’d thought. This was clearly a fancy show model what with the face and weird design. It probably didn’t have the same locking mechanisms as a Hunter class so the pilot had to improvise to stay upright. Carefully, Sunstreaker maneuvered to get his arm around the smaller mecha, ensuring they remained stable.

Being untethered inside a falling mecha was a lot like crashing down in an overloaded elevator. A messy way to die.

Aside from looking like an awkward first date, nothing about this registered as too weird. It was just machines. Basically a couple of parked cars in the middle of the desert.

Normal.

And then a couple hours later, the “powered down” mecha squirmed, wriggled and shuffled around until it was using Sunstreakers lap as a pillow.

Significantly less normal.

“So then they started screaming and flailing?” Sunstreaker waited to answer that until Sideswipe finished reconnecting to their mecha, visor flickering back to life and limbs unlocking with a satisfying series of ka-clunks.

“Not exactly. Remember that weird popping interference we kept getting over the radio?” He got a simple hum in response, which was Sideswipe for “I’m taking something seriously for once.” The yellow pilot would never admit it, but he hated when chatty people got quiet. Set him on edge like nothing else.

Beside him, Angel was still uncharacteristically reserved, watching Sunstreaker and his partner with an exhausted wariness.

“Well the radio started freaking out at the same time his back panel wing things started flailing. Sounded like if a fax machine was being dragged to hell.”

A low whistle came over the speaker. Whoever said what they were both thinking first would have to deal with the other making sane counter arguments. And as much as Sunstreaker wanted to be the reasonable one, Sideswipe wasn’t giving him that option.

“The mecha is alive Sides.”

The nickname made the red pilot pause, faintly cursing over the connection.

The mecha in question brightened up a bit watching Sideswipe go through his warm up routine. A slow trickle of foreign words resurfacing to brush away the silence. Some of the tension Sunstreaker had been holding onto bleed off as the chatty mecha seemed to come back to himself.

“Alright, maybe this is an especially over integrated mecha and the brass are testing the effects of leaving someone plugged in overnight?” The red mecha slowly tested his range of movement, gradually speeding up until he was shadow boxing.

Mentally, Sunstreaker took note of the way the sand and dust lifted to swirl around the red mecha’s legs, noting the shapes for later reference while sketching.

Sunstreaker shook his head, “Wouldn’t test that without active observation.”

“Okay maybe it’s haunted?”

“Haunted.” He threw another rock at him.

Sideswipe pivoted to point a finger at him in their silent conversation. “You’ve heard the stories about Mecha 11, freaky shit happens.”

Aside from the radio, Angel didn’t behave much like a trapped soul. Too lively for one. Too friendly for another. If Sunstreaker had to pick a genre this most reminded him of it’d be…

“I think he’s an alien.”

Sideswipe wrapped up his routine and plopped down next to Angel. “An alien? Shaped like a mecha?”

Leaning into their space, he blatantly looked the smaller mecha over for signs of green ooze, tentacles and a general air of homicidal intent. Angel smiled nervously, wings turning forward and back at the same time a the radio fuzzed with interference again.

Neither commented on the static. Didn’t need to. Sideswipe sighed leaning back on his elbows. “I kinda get it. It’s not normal, but it’s nothing like what we saw in Yukon.”

“It’s not like Yukon. Just watch him okay?”

He could practically feel Sideswipe grinning, “Suuure, I’ll ask him which is the prettier earthling, me or you.”

Wordlessly, Sunstreaker set his mecha into a stationary position. Pulling out of the Drift almost put him out right in his seat, Still, Sunstreaker had enough willpower to crawl his way back into the travel cabin.

Sipping on a bottle of electrolyte water, Sunstreaker pulled out his sketch book, flipping past stark black scrawlings to a fresh page. The pilot began to lightly pencil in the contours of his current object of fascination. Giving his brain a chance to cool down and think.

He’s seen some shit during his time as a pilot.

It was no secret that Hunter class pilots would usually come back a little different. You spend days, maybe weeks alone in the most isolated places on earth. Tracking down the monsters that bleed across the planet from gashes between the stars.

What most folks didn’t know, and would hopefully never learn, is that when one of those creatures get to place down roots?

It starts changing things.

Hunter class weren’t just sent to put down aliens. They got sent to put down their mutilated victims too.

Squirrels melted into tree bark like screeching aphids. Seals with spines exposed, alien surveillance equipment hotwired into their nervous systems. Rivers ran with toxic sludge and anything alive got repurposed into either fuel or tools.

They found a town once. Way up north. So small and out of the way it wasn’t on any maps.

Their third hunter wanted to donate the “survivors” to R&D. Sides and him vetoed the bastard but he’d already contacted dispatch without telling them. Mr. Opportunity got the all clear to go in and collect what was left of town.

Something held them back. Sunstreaker couldn’t tell if it was coming from him or Sideswipe but neither moved closer.

They returned to dispatch alone. Every question of what became of the third hunter or the little town in the middle Yukon was met with ice and silence.

Rumors scattered, staff came up with their own answers, no one wanted to work with the “Terror Twins” anymore.

That was fine. Sunny and Sides always worked better as a pair anyways.

They’d seen some shit. The kind of shit you can’t just explain to a therapist because they could never understand.

Art helped. Got all of the horrible things inside his head on the outside. Sideswipe too, though he’d never say it out loud. The bastard never left him alone, and it was his best-worst trait.

Narrowing his eyes, Sunstreaker paused in his sketching at the faint sound of thunking against the top of his mecha.

Yanking down the wall mounted mic Sunstreaker yelled over the radio. “Are you fucking stacking rocks on my mecha again you bastard?”

The sound of snickering and another thunk was Sideswipes response. “C’mooon. It’s not like it’ll hurt you! Plus I got Roberto to crack a smile.”

“Wha- wait Roberto?”

The thunking continued. “Well yeah, he’s a robot. Robot sounds like Roberto. Knowing you, you probably named him something uber deep and meaningful like Hubert.”

Sunstreaker sputtered, shaking his head like a slapped dog, “Why the fuck would I call him Hubert?”

“Cause he’s the patron saint of Hunter’s you dumb bastard.” And before Sunstreaker could grumble about fuckin’ Catholic school kid, Sideswipe cut off his internal thoughts. “Wait.”

Sideswipes voice carried the timber of sudden epiphany. “Wait, did you name him-“

“No.” He swatted down the probe.

“You mentally named him some shit like Angel didn’t you?”

“No.” He said far too defensively to be anything other than a damning confession.

“Oh my god you did!” The yellow pilot could only groan as he listened to his partners cackling. Followed closely by the thundering cascade of all the rocks he’d been stacking tumbling down his mecha.

“Haha ha ha! I can’t even- I- Wait hold on.” Gasping for air, Sidswipe started to trail off.

“I swear to fucking god if my paint job-“

“No, no shut the fuck up he’s doing something.” The sudden drop of his makeshift twins normal tone had Sunstreaker scrambling back into the pilots seat.

“Doing what?” Fast as he could, Sunstreaker started the Drift boot up process, face set in a mask of intensely focused calm.

“He’s.. pointing his gun at a cloud?”

The Drift swallowed all sensation. It felt not unlike having a densely woven bag pulled over your head, only to have it ripped away to reveal the ground a hundred feet lower than it was before. Bursts of color exploded across his brain until Sunstreaker came online just in time to hear a booming ~KUFF~.

For once, Sideswipe was speechless. An aborted voice crack marked he was still breathing.

“…what the fuck did he just shoot?”

————

“Uh oh.”

Optics trained straight up, the sniper started walking backwards.

The quint corpse broke through the cloud cover and Bluestreak switched to running.

“Move move move move move move!” It didn’t take Tacnet much to calculate where that thing was impacting.

Going straight for the only just onlining yellow mecha, Bluestreak got a hold of one arm and yanked the stumbling hunter to his feet.

Meanwhile, Sideswipe finally caught on to the rapidly approaching problem.

Bluestreak had about one click to appreciate his spectacular fuck up of creating a poor-mechs orbital strike before two heavy bodies slammed him into the dirt.

Several tons of biomechanical monstrosity exploded in a shower of shrapnel and slag. The three of them bunked through the shockwave.

Blue-ish gray flaming viscera continued to rain down for a few extra clicks, the dull sound of it bouncing off of the hunters armor.

Bluestreak creaked.

Trapped under the combined weight of the two larger mecha, the Praxian had one arm free and used it to start slapping the twins heads.

With the drunken grace of a slumber party when one person needs to get up to use the bathroom, the hunters rolled off of the smaller mech.

Sharp and twisted pain radiated out from his back. He kept his ventilations even.

[Pain - Repair - Reset - Doorwing (2)]

It was jammed out of place, still on the highest setting from scanning out as far as he could earlier. His sensor net was shrieking and everything on the left side of his perception was hyper detailed to the point he could practically taste the texture of the dirt.

It was dialed high enough to penetrate through the surface of the soil slightly, giving Bluestreak the nauseating sensation of all his surroundings on that side registering as a liquid.

[Pain - Repair - Reset - Doorwing (2)]

“Okay okay okay okay okay okay okayokayokayokayokay.” He ran his mouth to keep it too busy to scream.

He stayed on the ground, face hidden from the aliens. He had to not shake. To not make any expression of pain.

He felt something wet leaking from where his right doorwing connected, trailing crosswise down his chassis.

“It’s just a dislocation and a tiny tear in a fuel line. Not even that noticeable!” He wasn’t even hurt in a way that’d require significant medical attention. It’s easy! It’s easy.

“Just- just don’t feel anything. You aren’t a person right now you’re a machine that can’t be injured, it’s just.. you know, damaged. You wouldn’t cringe because your shuttle got damaged would you? So don’t you dare make that face or they will kill you.”

He kept his face in the dirt. Memories of defrag glitched to the surface. The chase. The capture. Stuck on the knife’s edge of something terrible about to happen.

They wouldn’t find out if he can just hide his face a couple clicks longer. Throat too tight, optics over bright. A faint tremble held at bay by locking every joint in place.

Hands came down on his arms and shoulders and Bluestreak couldn’t scream.

Tacnet Dilation: 100%

[Pain - Repair - Reset - Doorwing (2)]

The world wobbled 90 degrees and he was unsteadily pulled to his feet.

Locking his jaw, Bluestreak set himself into a parade rest. Optics lasered into the middle distance.

One set of hands stayed on him as the other mecha moved into his field of vision. With the limited gestures they had in common, Sideswipe pointed to Bluestreak and then an OK gesture with his other hand.

The question was implicit, “Yep. Yeppers. Neeever better. Almost bored in fact! I’ve had closer calls than that and really that shot doesn’t even break my top ten! I didn’t even use any ricochets or double KIH-“ He gasped, optics fritzing.

He’d felt a tug on his doorwing and Bluestreak clacked his jaw shut as he instinctively shoved Sunstreaker off of him.

[Pain - Repair - Reset - Doorwing (2)]

Vorns of training kicked in just to kick the bucket as Bluestreaks servos snapped up then came up empty, as his rifle was still on the ground between the two mecha.

Tacnet Dilation: 200%

Even with the odds of certain death, the sniper was sorely tempted to dive for it anyways. Just to die with it in his servos.

The sun bore down like a vindictive parole officer, salivating over the prospect of eminent violence.

The hunters… raised their hands.

Placating.

Gaze rapidly darting from one twin to the other, Bluestreak held perfectly still, waiting for their next move.

Slowly, and not just because of Tacnet, Sunstreaker knelt, picking up his rifle with a pink stained hand. Raising just as slowly like Bluestreak would bolt if he didn’t, the yellow hunter held out the weapon handle first.

He took it quickly. Almost cradling it to his chest.

Tacnet Dilation: 125%

While Sunstreaker returned his rifle, Sideswipe was drawing in the dirt.

Eight crude, simple glyphs, made rougher for the material they were carved into.

Flipping through the miniature dictionary Prowl had been sending him in piecemeal over comms, Bluestreak quickly translated the message.

HOW HELP?

He stared at the words in the dirt.

[Pain - Repair - Reset - Doorwing (2)]

Swallowing, and smiling thinly, he said “You guys don’t know how to relocate a doorwing do you?”

The twins looked on blankly and the praxian sighed, wiping a hand down his face. “Okay! Okay. It really can’t be that bad! I mean, it’s just incredibly painful and not actually life threatening so let’s give a shot! Who needs trained medical care anyways? Me? Psh- naaaw. Come here Sideswipe! I need someone to demo with.”

At the sound of his name, Sideswipe visibly jolted. “RIGHT. Right. I shouldn’t know your name! Ha haha haaaa. Oh I’m so going to die.”

Either it wasn’t that weird for Bluestreak to know his name, or the three of them were far enough beyond the bounds of normal for it to not matter anymore, because Sideswipe walked up to where Bluestreak wanted him.

Turning Sideswipe into position so his back was to them, Bluestreak waved for Sunstreaker to join him.

“Okay! So this joint,” the praxian pointed it out over his shoulder, “Can get forced out too far and then get stuck on the edge of my armor.”

He mimed the correct motions onto Sideswipes back, “What I need you to do is push up on my doorwing and twist it back in place like this.”

[Pain - Repair - Reset - Doorwing (2)]

“Yes! Thank you processor, I am very aware of what’s gone wrong and I am working on it.” He hissed under his ventilations.

Turning back to Sunstreaker who was watching closely, the mecha faced him. “You got all that? Yes? Good? Great! I’m going to keep talking through this so just do what you need to while I try my best to disassociate here.”

Shaking out his servos and turning his back to Sunstreaker, the praxian manually locked Tacnet down to the lowest setting.

A hand settled in the middle of his back and Bluestreak resolutely stared forward. Processor blank.

A second hand closed around the dislocation and Bluestreak started involuntarily stepping in place.

Both hands vanished. Like a new build discovering the concept of rear view mirrors, Bluestreak haltingly looked behind him.

“What, what are you doing?” He faltered. Waving for his attention, Sideswipe opened a panel on his thigh, producing some kind of tool. It had the look of a tiny fire extinguisher, a rounded cylinder with hose and nozzle attached.

While still fiddling with it, Sideswipe waved Sunstreaker over.

Instantly, the yellow hunter stepped back, shaking his head side to side.

When it became clear his twin wasn’t coming any closer, the red hunter turned to him more fully. Palms up, shoulders raised, gesturing like he was trying to sell some questionable homebrewed high grade.

Sunstreaker responded by angrily pointing at Sideswipe, then Sideswipes unoccupied hand. Nonplussed, the antagonising mecha simply gestured to the tool in his other hand.

After a few tense clicks of staring each other down, Sideswipe straightened and pointed directly to Bluestreak, dropping his hands dramatically.

One more click passed with Sideswipe staring at Sunstreaker, Sunstreaker looking at Bluestreak, and Bluestreak watching them both.

Throwing back his head, Sunstreaker glared at the sky before rejoining his twin and breaking one of his own fingers.

“Why does every human I meet have such a casual relationship with body horror? I know that’s only three data points but that’s enough to form a pattern. Why. I am so confused and in so much pain right now I can’t- Just why??”

Completely indifferent to the sparking digit and Bluestreaks slack jawed commentary, Sunstreaker presented his broken pinky to his brother.

Pressing down on a lever of the tube, Sideswipe sprayed a misting foam onto the broken joint. Handing off the device to Sunstreakers working hand, Sideswipe proceeded to pop the no longer sparking finger back into place.

The red twin stepped back and threw his arms forward like a game show presenter.

He kicked Sunstreaker.

The yellow twin dispassionately jazz handed.

The praxians remaining doorwing twitched. “Is this what my brother went through? Oh Primus it is. But doubled. I mean, neither of you have dropped me off a building yet or forgot me in an elevator shaft but hoooly shit fucks I am never giving Prowl Slag about his human again. This is about what it was like meeting Jazz for the first time except I’m in your home.”

He vented harshly, turning his injury to the hunters.

“Everything you people do is confusing, disturbing and yet somehow weirdly charming.”

Clapping his servos with false enthusiasm, Bluestreak smiled brightly, “Okay fellas, let’s spray the mysterious alien substance into my open wound! Maybe I’ll get some cool powers out of this? Or an infection! Probably an infection.”

[Pain - Repair - Reset - Doorwing (2)]

“…Please just get this over with as quickly as possible.” He mumbled as the yellow mecha moved into his line of sight.

Inexplicably, Sunstreaker took one of his servos between his hands. Firmly pressing in a way that didn’t hurt but captured Bluestreaks fluttering focus.

Bluestreak remembered something.

“Hey wait so you guys don’t need or use actual anesthetic right? So what is that stuff supposed to feeEEAL OH-KAY THATS COLD. That is COLD. Huuugh. Haha ha ha heeeuu-HYEK.” He articulated his feelings on the experience with expediency.

The electrical signals running through his second doorwing dimmed and weakened. The sudden drop in sensory input left Bluestreak off balance.

“Woah.” Resetting his functional doorwing, the praxian lowered its range to minimum, then offlined it completely.

The twins registered as indistinct fuzzy blobs to what was still functioning from his remaining doorwing. They switched places. Tensing again as he felt Sunstreakers hands return to position against his back, Bluestreak didn’t have time to over analyze what came next as Sideswipe was literally jumping for his attention.

Before he could rhetorically ask what the hunter was doing, Sideswipe picked up a couple rocks and started throwing them in the air in a series of high arches.

Failing to catch every last one.

Sideswipe looked down at the sad little stones with an expression that somehow looked forlorn.

Some string of sanity finally gave out under the tension that’d been building since his defrag, and Bluestreak started to break down laughing.

“What?! What was that? Was that juggling? Why the fuck are you juggling?! How did we get here? How did- I can’t- I can’t process this right now.” Bluestreak heaved and only when he was crouched with his head in his servos did he notice the repair pings were gone.

“I-“ He felt his relocated doorwing by servo, not believing his processor. “I didn’t even feel it.”

Slowly, Bluestreak pulled his dooorwings back online, cycling from the very bottom of his range to the top.

{{See? Just like pulling a tooth.}}

He got some garbled interference for a click, but couldn’t afford to investigate that right now. The smoldering corpse of the quint was a stark reminder of what he’d picked up earlier.

Gingerly, he raised them back to the highest range, memory compensating for the slowly melting numbness on his second sensor net.

Sunstreaker was checking in with him again, doing the tried and true OK? And a head tilt. Brow furrowed, Bluestreak returned the gesture and concentrated on his scan, “I need to check back on something real quick. Don’t worry. Yet.”

There.

A heavy mass was buried into the earth slightly beyond the horizon. A spattering of smaller dots swam through the air.

Rising, the sniper pointed to their most recent near death experience.

“Bad news first, that was a scout. A scout from a fragging massive nest judging by the sheer scale of what I’m scanning.” Compulsively, he counted his ammunition already knowing the number.

The twins returned to a flanking position on either side of the praxian. He’d failed completely in not showing pain, by all rights they should know he’s not one of them, and yet he was still here. Protected.

Maybe they were waiting for more information. Maybe they knew what he was but didn’t know what to do with him.

The humans were cut off from their command structure. All Bluestreak knew for certain was that whatever choices the twins made out here, it was their decision alone.

His wings felt staticky.

Dialing up his sensor net as high as it could go was giving Bluestreak an intimately detailed 3D mapping of the twins, the landscape and several cloud formations.

More importantly, Bluestreak was getting distant fuzzy pings off of larger objects that registered as at least partially metallic to his processor.

Two in fact!

One was the Quintesson nest he picked up earlier, the other was probably..

Shuttle 88%

“Oh.”

As Sunny and Sides investigated the downed quint, stomping through any intact organs to ensure its expiration, Bluestreak drummed his digits on his rifle.

“I could run.” The sniper spoke to himself.

“I could leave you two to fight on your own. But you might follow me. The shuttle probably has some damage I’d need to patch before take off. It’d take time.”

He looked over the horizon hiding his ship. “And you would catch up to me.”

Tacnet Dilation: 75%

“Unless I made sure you couldn’t.” Bluestreak forced his processor to focus on limbs instead of chests or heads.

“Shattered knees wouldn’t kill you. Wouldn’t even hurt you actually.” He shrugged, optics taking on a flinty look. Sharp and blank.

Far far in the distance, the loss of their scout registered with the hive. They buzzed faster around their progenitor

“But the Quints would.”

Unawares, the twins seemed satisfied with their pulverization. Turning their attention back to the Praxian, Sunstreaker raised a stoic thumbs up. Sideswipe raised two.

He should comm Prowl.

Optics tight, Bluestreak raised his own in solidarity. “My brother would tell me to kill you.”

“I would give him all the information I have on you two and the nest, and then he’d run the simulation.” Bluestreak monologued quietly to the hunters. “He would pause, he always pauses with this sort of thing, and then Prowl would order me to shoot you both.”

Returning to his side, the red mecha clapped Bluestreak on the shoulder. Excitedly waving to the quint, his gun and the sky above. He smiled back, “He’d make it an order to make it his responsibility. The others would forgive me. If it wasn’t my choice then it wasn’t my fault.”

Prowl always made a point of signing his orders, making it clear to anyone who searched that he decided the deaths of countless mechs.

Bluestreak was recorded by position, rather than name.

The tactician knew who their best sniper was, and utilized them accordingly.

It was always discreet.

Familiar.

“I am my brothers favorite executioner.” He quietly spoke.

Doorwings held high, Bluestreak was hyper aware of the hunter’s movements, yet it still startled him when Sunstreaker tapped his shoulder.

The yellow hunter pointed to the dusty ground where human glyphs were crudely etched into the surface. Bluestreak flipped through the dictionary again.

“How many? Where?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek.

[BLUESTREAK]: Prowl can you run a simulation on something for me?]

[BLUESTREAK]: What’s the match up for two Hunter class mecha against an established Quintesson factory hive?]

[PROWL]: One moment]

Stalling for time, Bluestreak walked in a circle pretending to be searching for clues, the mechas loosely trailing him.

He rambled to fill the silence.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re terrifying? Because you guys are terrifying. I mean, you’re actually really nice in person but on a sub processor level I’ve been fighting for my goddamn sanity here.”

Pretending to search through his scope, the sniper mentally catalogued his supplies. He had 31 rounds left on his person, 160 more in his subspace, along with 4 cubes of energon, a basic knife and the largest med case he could cram everything else around.

He pointed his rifle back down, “You’re kind. Scary as pit but legitimately kind. I can tell, you know, when people are faking it. I’m used to people being polite and all when I go on a streak but you guys actually notice when my tone changes or… or check in when I get quiet or you do something stupid just to make me laugh and I-“

[PROWL]: 13% chances of success, assuming both pilots are fully operational and are aware of the threat. The swarm of scouts are the most likely cause of defeat as Hunter class are not well equipped to deal with large numbers of small fast moving hostiles]

[PROWL]: Do you have any means of escape?]

Glancing over his shoulder, Bluestreak took stock of the pilots following his lead. For them, there was no such thing as escape. The quintessons had reached Earth and the humans had no other planet to retreat to. This was their Cybertron. This was their final frontier and the humans would fight to protect it to their very last.

The sniper mentally pinned the location of his shuttle.

[BLUESTREAK]: No]

He stopped, and the hunters stopped with him. Bluestreak raised a servo towards the horizon of death and spoke in patchwork English, “There. Many small. One large.”

[PROWL]: Understood. I’ll pull up what files I can and send it along. Exercise extreme caution]

[PROWL]: Please]

The hunters had already begun trekking in the direction of what was to date Bluestreaks worst plan ever.

[BLUESTREAK]: Will do. I’ll keep you updated as information comes in]

Swinging his peds as he walked, Bluestreak couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. “Someone told me once that your spark will know when you’re an about to die, and it will fill you with this serene sense of peace. Something about preparing to return to the Well or the Allspark or the loving and probably a little disappointed embrace of Primus. Hard to say. I wasn’t raised religious.”

He hopped forward to pull up in between the two hunters.

“And you know what? I’ve had a lot of near death experiences but not once would I ever have described it as serene.”

If he did have to pick a word, it’d probably be Loud.

“I think I can finally feel it. That sense of spark deep calm. Like it knows how I’ll die now.”

He smiled at the yellow star shining down, venting deeply.

“Prowl is going to Fucking kill me.”

———————————————————————

What the twins were saying during the freeze gel “demonstration”:

“Aight, let me break your finger."

"What? No!"

"C'mon! I need to do a demonstration."

"Then break your own finger asshole!"

"I can't. Because I'm using the freeze gel! Look do you want to reassure him or not?"

“..fine but I’m breaking my own finger.”

The twins are very aware that Bluestreak is not normal, but are going to find out shorty just how “not normal” Bluestreak really is.

Next time is Sniper time baby.

-SSTP

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 4, Part 1

masterpost am still sick. no editing or concrit please. *sad coughing*

Wally had already known that Danny was smart, but watching Danny work with Barry, Victor, and the others put Danny’s intelligence in a whole other category. Danny was science smart.

The swift progress from everyone working together making a way to communicate with Wally using readings from Danny was encouraging. What wasn’t encouraging is how Danny seemed to fade a little more every day.

“—take a break, Danny,” Dick said. He’d taken his role of mother hen seriously, as he always did.

“Yeah, one sec,” Danny mumbled around the screwdriver in his mouth. “Just let me finish these wires. We’re almost ready for another test.”

Dick hummed before agreed, “Okay—after the test—eating and taking a nap.”

“N,” Danny whined.

“Don’t N—,” Dick replied. “Flash wouldn’t—killing yourself to save him.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t!” Wally agreed, even if no one would hear him. Everyone else might still be a little static sounding, but he knew Dick well enough to know what he was saying.

“Already died,” Danny grumbled to himself as he kept working on the wiring.

Dick chose not to respond to the aside, which was probably for the best, and settled back against a wall of the converted bio lab instead. Wally leaned next to him.

“I know that we both know that letting someone stay involved is important for mental health, but you have to be willing to ground Danny when the time comes,” Wally said, just to be able to say it. “I can feel him getting weaker. I’m worried that it’s an exponential thing too, and who knows how much it will worse when the sensors are working.”

Dick sighed next to him. Wally nodded along as if Dick had been agreeing. In the background, Danny, Barry, and Raven were talking.

“I know, he’ll be suborn about it. But you could always point out how he’s the only way to get me back,” Wall shivered as a sudden wave of cold passed over him. “We’ll know that’s not why, but if it works, it works, right?”

“Wally?” Dick asked his name in such an absolutely wrecked way that Wally spun and was reaching out before he remembered that Dick couldn’t see him.

Except that Dick was looking right at him.

Wally could tell, even with the lenses.

“Can—can you see me?”

Dick nodded slowly.

“And—and you can hear me?! You can hear me!” Wally reached for Dick.

His hand went right through him.

Oh.

Small steps.

“It’s hard to hear you,” Barry said, over to Wally’s side in a rush. “It’s like Danny has said, you’re all static. Visually too. It’s like the channel isn’t turned right. But! We can work on refining that until we’ve locked onto the right frequency and then we can work on pulling you out of there! Your aunt is going to strangle you as soon as she can touch you, so be ready for that.”

Wally barked out a teary laugh. “Yeah, she would. I’ll take that. I’ll take being touched just about in any way right now. I mean, just talking to you all! I didn’t know if…”

“Never,” Dick said admittedly. “We’ll always come to get you. And luckily you were smart enough to find Danny.”

“I think that was all luck, nothing smart about it. I’m just glad that—Danny?” Wally looked over to Danny, who was leaning against the equipment, and just knew that things were about to go badly. “Barry! Catch him!”

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby) Part 2

click for part 1

Summary: Mira had a solo interview—at least, that’s what she thought. But right when it started, two pink-haired boys showed up and joined in. What was meant to be calm quickly turned into a chaotic interview with all three of them. No one knew what was going to happen next.

Word Count: 1250

a/n: im bad w titles and posting. lets just say this is part two even though there's no significant connection between the first fic i posted.

-----------------

“What do you think of the ship MiRomAbby?” the host asked Mira.

With a forced smile, she looked at the camera. “I think our fans are creative, but there’s nothing going on between us.”

The audience let out a chorus of disappointed “Aww”s and suspicious “Hmm”s, some clearly thinking she was lying. She wasn’t though.

“Is that so?” the host asked. He stood up and turned to face the crowd. The studio lights were blinding, but his smile was even brighter—like he had something up his sleeve. “Actually, we have surprise guests today. Would you like to meet them now, folks?”

Mira’s brows furrowed. She sat up straight. She hadn’t been informed of this.

“LET US ALL CHEER for Romance and Abby of Saja Boys!”

The crowd went wild—but Mira’s heart went wilder.

What? They’re here?!

No one told her. No one warned her.

Fans squealed and chanted as the boys made their entrance, the guys had their eyes immediately locked in on her. Their smiles teased with a sweet charm that made the air a little warmer.

She averted her gaze, ignoring the weird tingling feeling in her chest. Stop it, Mira.

They waved at the crowd like boy band royalty, soaking in the cheers of the people. Mira didn’t move. She was trying to compose herself.

They took their respective seats on either side of her. She noticed how they were always like this, keeping her in the middle. It was like this during their fansign event, and it's the same now.

Mira tried to play it cool, but the host had other ideas.

“So, who confessed first? Was it Mira?”

 She was visibly taken aback, “As if! Nobody confessed anything—”

“Yet.” Abby cut her off playfully.

 The crowd was loving this. Mira, not so much.

“I’ve asked Mira. About time we hear your answers too.” The smug look on the host’s face was irritating. “What do you think of MiRomAbby?”

“Oh, we heard there were rumors,” Romance stated, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. “And we thought, why not confirm everything?”

“What?” Mira whipped her head in his direction. He met her gaze with a sweetly masked innocence.

Abby nodded, “Yeah. Like, confirm that we’re all just friends…with really good chemistry.”

The host cackled, clearly thriving. “So no truth to the MiRomAbby ship?”

Romance lazily leaned in. “I mean, unless Mira wants to change her answer.”

“I don’t.” Mira blinked, her response quick.

“You sound so sure.” Abby chuckled in amusement. It was close to her ear, making her shift in her seat.

“Because I am sure.” her gaze sharp and challenging.

The host clapped his hands together, bringing the attention back to him. “Alright, time for a little fun. We’ve got some stuff prepared that were highly requested—”

Mira huffed. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“—from your fans.” The host grinned. “Let’s start off with a classic: the heart monitor game!”

Some staff emerged from the sidelines to stick the sensor patches onto them. Their heart rates appeared on the big screen for everyone to see. Mira’s was already elevated, while the boys’ were on the lower side.

“Seems like someone’s a little nervous…” Romance teased, his voice smooth and low.

Mira took a deep breath. “It’s because I’m annoyed. That’s all.”

His brow quirked upwards, a small grin playing on his lips. Ugh, why is she even looking at him?

“And now it’s time for some Truth or Dare.” The host barely let the tension settle. “This one comes from sajaxhuntrix4ever. They said: ‘I dare you to hold hands for 10 minutes. If you let go, you’ll have to redo. P.S. We love you and support pink poly!’”

Mira’s blood ran cold. The cheers were deafening.

“Now that’s one way to start the game,” the host laughed. “Alright then, the timer starts once you hold hands.”

Abby offered his hand to her, head slightly tilted, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Whenever you’re ready, Mira.”

He said her name slowly, like he was enjoying the sound of it on his mouth. Her heart was already thudding in her chest. She glanced up at the screen and saw the BPM number climbing higher. No. Calm down.

With an abrupt motion, she grabbed both their hands without another thought. Let’s get this over with.

The timer began.

Romance shifted into a more comfortable position and casually readjusted his hold on her. He slid his warm fingers between hers, lacing them together with a satisfied hum. Mira chose to ignore it.

“Okay, next one is from the user supremecolorpink. They asked: ‘Why can’t you just date? Don’t worry, we support you!’”

Mira sighed. “I appreciate all the support, but it’s simply because I’m not… interested.”

That slight hesitation. What happened to being sure, Mira?

“That's not a very nice joke,” Abby teased, bringing their intertwined hands on his chest with a sly smile. “Not even a spark of interest?”

Yeah, no, I'm definitely not interested...right..?

She could feel the warmth of his chest seeping into the back of her hand. Her throat suddenly felt dry, “Enough. Next.”

“Between Romance and Abby, who do you like more?”

The two boys exchanged glances.

“None.” Mira was quick with it, her eyes shut tight with restraint.

More ridiculous questions followed, and somehow, she managed to get through them. When does this end?

The host chuckled before he read the next card. Upon reading, his eyes widened a fraction. “Ah, finally, another dare—and it’s a fan favorite: the Pepero Game!”

The room erupted in cheers of excitement, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in Mira’s chest. No, not like this.

The host took notice and didn't miss a beat.

“Well, would you look at that? Someone’s excited.”

Excited?

Mira looked to her left, as if trying to hide her face from the crowd. Things were starting to feel uncomfortable, and her shoulders grew tense. She didn't like this. She wanted to make the fans happy but not at the expense of her own. The room now feels suffocating.

Suddenly, she felt gentle, comforting rubs on both her hands, like it was trying to help her relax. She slowly glanced down at one hand, then the other—then up at their faces. They weren't even looking at her but their thumbs were rubbing soft soothing circles on her hands.

“Alright, Mira, you’ll need to choose a partner—” the host began, already scanning between Romance and Abby with a grin.

But before he could finish, Abby raised his free hand with a chuckle, “Actually, I think we’re overdue for a water break. I might pass out.”

A few people laughed from the crowd. Some were concerned.

Romance nodded, grinning. “Yeah, I’m thirsty too.”

“Oh look, the timer’s up. We can let go now.” he added.

Romance and Abby gently released Mira’s hands. She blinked, still trying to process the sudden shift. They removed the sensor patch from Mira's body, both their eyes fixed on her face.

“You’re thirsty too, right, Mira?” Abby asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“Come on, let’s go.”

That’s when they led her backstage.

Minutes later, a staff member whispered to the host that the three idols had slipped away, mentioning something about an emergency.

Whispers began to swirl instantly. Fans speculated wildly, their phones lighting up with theories and guesses. Had they ditched the show?

The buzz didn’t die down for the rest of the night.

________

click for part 3

it's so embarassing that i dont know how to use this thing </3 i feel like a grandma but im not that old i swear (or maybe i am) im just not a tumblr typa gal. dont laugh at me or maybe do, as long as it makes u happy. you can suggest stuff so it would help me have ideas. like, be it fluffy, angsty, or spicy. just a teeny bit spicy, like this tho 🤏🏻 nothing too crazy unless… i didnt say ill be writing them all so dont keep your hopes up. if you say please then maybe i would reconsider 😮‍💨

@suzieq1948374 @hillyj579

[mrpenguinpants]

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

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

— Hayato Suo, Hajime Umemiya, Jo Togame

[Masterlist]

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

Hajime Umemiya

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

But this...

Sakura's cheeks are already turning pink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hayato Suo

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

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

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

---

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

Regardless...

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

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

Suo seems to be difficult for anyone to handle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jo Togame

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mandoalorian]

his body, her fury [bucky barnes x f!reader]

pairing: new avenger!bucky x f!reader

synopsis: tensions crackle as the mission to track down reed richards spirals into chaos beneath manhattan’s streets. with tempers flaring and powers unleashed, lines blur between enemy and ally—especially when instincts overpower intention.

word count: 6700

rating/warnings: 18+ explicit content, male masturbation, bucky has a steamy shower moment, canon typical violence/action, angst, bucky/sam still aren’t friends, enemies to lovers, details of injury, avengers tower fic, thunderbolts spoilers

masterlist

previous chapter | current | next chapter

The street was dead. Not the kind of dead that came with sleep or silence — the kind that buzzed with something wrong. Static in the air. Lights in the buildings overhead flickered like they were trying to whisper warnings.

“You sure this is the place?” John’s voice cut through the fog as he slung his taco-shaped shield over his back, boots clunking loudly against cracked concrete. “Because it looks like a dump.”

“It’s supposed to,” Bucky muttered from the front, barely glancing back. “That’s the point.”

You adjusted the strap of your tactical vest, the weight of your comms gear pressing against your shoulder. The tip you’d received from Valentina said there was energy movement underground — something not registered by satellites but pulsing with dimensional interference. And supposedly, Reed Richards had something to do with it.

“I’ve seen dumps with more personality,” Alexei grumbled beside you. “In Russia, we have garbage fires that are warmer than this city.”

You smirked in spite of yourself. “You talk a lot for someone who nearly tripped the last three sensors.”

“I am stealthy,” he replied, squinting ahead like a bloodhound in war paint. “You are simply not perceptive enough to notice.”

“She’s plenty perceptive,” Bucky snapped, stopping at a rusted manhole cover etched with what looked like claw marks.

John rolled his eyes. “Oh good, here comes your moody boyfriend routine.”

You stiffened.

“I’m not her—” “He’s not my—”

You and Bucky spoke at the same time, then glared at each other.

Bucky was already kneeling beside the manhole, wrenching the cover off with one gloved hand. You watched as he pulled at it with ease, managing to tear away something which would usually take a whole team of men and machinery. The scent that came out was metallic and wrong, like burnt ozone and bleach. He didn’t look at you when he said, “Stay in front of me when we go in. Don’t touch anything.”

“Why? Scared I’ll break something?” you shot back.

“No,” he said without blinking. “Scared you’ll get hurt.”

That stunned you more than it should have. You recovered fast.

“I can handle myself.”

“We’ll see.”

“Can we save the foreplay for later?” John drawled as he dropped into the opening. “Some of us are trying to save the world.”

You felt your eye twitch.

Alexei went next, grumbling something about “American sarcasm” and “no damn manners.” You followed, fingers tight on the ladder rungs, the cold metal slick beneath your gloves. When you landed at the bottom, ankle-deep in shadow and ancient water, you were surrounded by whispering pipes and humming machinery.

It felt like the underground had a heartbeat.

“Oh, gross,” you muttered, waving a hand in front of your face as the sewer air clung to your skin like rot. “Smells like Bucky’s personality down here.”

Behind you, a heavy thud echoed as Bucky dropped in, the metal grate clanging back into place above. His arm brushed yours, and you shifted away reflexively.  “Cute,” he said dryly, brushing dust off his tactical vest. “I didn’t realise we were rating sewer systems now. Are you always going to be this pleasant on missions? Or am I just that lucky tonight?”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Only when I have to share air with someone whose idea of charm is brooding and breathing too loudly.”

Bucky scoffed, stepping just close enough to brush your shoulder as he passed. His touch made a shiver crawl over you. “Lucky for you, I don’t need charm to get the job done.”

Your jaw tightened, pulse flickering. “No, just a personality like sandpaper and the warmth of a corpse.”

He paused, just a beat, then smirked — barely. “Still can’t stop staring, though.”

You scoffed, biting down the flush rising to your cheeks. “Only to remind myself what not to work with.”

Alexei, trudging just behind you, looked between the two of you with big, gleaming eyes. “Is this flirting?” he whispered—not quietly. “Because it kind of feels like flirting.”

John Walker snorted. “Lover’s quarrel,” he muttered under his breath, wiping sewer grime off his gloves. “They just need to kiss already and save us the tension migraines.”

“Say that again and I’ll show you a migraine,” you snapped, not even bothering to look at him. “I don’t have time to play babysitter to two men with over-inflated egos.”

“Two?” Bucky echoed, cocking a brow. “So I’m sharing that title now?”

“You’ve always been number one in my heart, Barnes,” you drawled sarcastically. “Right next to paper cuts and food poisoning.”

Alexei coughed to hide his laugh. “I like this team dynamic. It keeps me sharp.”

John grunted. “It’s gonna get us caught if you two don’t zip it. We’re not exactly stealthy when we’re bickering like high schoolers.”

“I’m not bickering,” you and Bucky said in unison, then scowled at each other like the very sound of being in sync was offensive.

Silence stretched briefly before Alexei whispered to himself, “Definitely flirting.”

You’d been walking for what felt like hours. The tunnels split and curved endlessly, coated in rust and algae, with flickering industrial lights above giving everything a sickly yellow tint. The deeper you went, the warmer it got. Not in any natural way — in a “maybe the Earth’s core is bleeding” way.

“This is a dead end,” John grumbled, shining his flashlight down a hallway that looped back into itself. “We’re wasting time. Probably a just bum’s hideout, and Val’s intel was bunk.”

“Valentina’s intel is never bunk,” Bucky said sharply, voice low and certain.

Alexei nodded vigorously. “She once told me to dig under a hot dog cart in Queens. Said I’d find contraband tech. I found a squirrel with a USB drive in its mouth. She was correct.”

John blinked, then scoffed. “Not what I meant. Why is that even a sentence?”

Alexei grinned. “She’s never wrong. Just like Bucky—sharp instincts. That’s why I listen.”

John snorted. “Yeah, well, maybe if Bucky grunted less and actually led like a human being, we wouldn’t be crawling through Manhattan’s sewer system like Ninja Turtles on a midlife crisis.”

Bucky didn’t dignify that with a response, but Alexei turned with a grunt. “You don’t respect him,” he said to John, stabbing a finger in Bucky’s direction. “This man saved the world.”

John raised a brow. “Yeah, and he also killed a couple dozen people before that. You forget about that part?”

You held your breath, waiting.

Alexei crossed his arms. “We all have skeletons. This one just happens to be a very efficient skeleton.”

You let out an involuntary snort. Even Bucky’s lip twitched.

“I’m checking this hatch,” you said quickly, pointing to a rusted grate high above. You stepped onto the ledge of a cracked pipe but the vent was just out of reach. You adjusted your footing, arms stretching — still not high enough.

“Here,” Bucky said.

You looked down just as he approached, silent again. His hands found your waist before you could object and suddenly — you were airborne. Lifted like you weighed nothing.

You gasped. “Warn me next time.”

“You would’ve said no,” he said simply, keeping you steady with terrifying ease.

His fingers were warm through the fabric of your tac gear. Steady. Strong. Too strong.

You wrenched the vent cover loose and peered through, catching only the stretch of more tunnel — until something flickered across your vision. A thread. A shimmer. An aura.

You froze.

It pulsed in slow motion, soft as a heartbeat. Blue. Cool. Controlled. Intelligent.

He was here.

You dropped down, landing hard on your feet, and Bucky steadied you again before you could stumble. You looked straight at him.

“He’s here,” you whispered. “Reed Richards. I can feel him. He’s close.”

The others tensed instantly.

“Where?” Bucky asked.

You pointed. “Past the wall. There’s another level above. I don’t know how to get there yet, but—he’s not alone. There’s… something with him.”

Bucky’s expression darkened.

“I knew it,” Alexei muttered, fingers twitching by his belt. “I felt something earlier. My toes were tingling.”

“You sure that wasn’t just mold?” John muttered.

“Silence, peasant,” Alexei snapped.

Bucky turned to the group. “Weapons ready. Eyes up.”

You exhaled slowly. Whatever was coming, you’d found him. The aura was unmistakable.

Reed Richards.

But if he was here, hiding beneath Manhattan… why hadn’t he made contact?

And what — or who — was he hiding from?

Bucky’s hands had left you minutes ago, but you could still feel the imprint of them on your waist — like a brand. The way he’d lifted you — no hesitation, no strain. In his arms, you’d felt like nothing at all.

You hated that your heart had skipped when his fingers brushed your sides. Hated the way you felt warm where he touched you. Hated that he hadn't even looked winded, his jaw set, eyes scanning the dark with focus so precise it made you ache.

You shook it off.

Now wasn’t the time.

Reed’s aura pulsed just ahead, still faint but constant, like a low hum in your bones. You pressed your hand to the concrete wall beside the grate and narrowed your eyes, channelling out every voice, every footstep, and every mocking comment from John.

The path revealed itself slowly. A faint shimmer along the right wall. Not a doorway, but a structural weakness. Like someone had reshaped the building. Not broken it — just… bent it.

“I know where to go,” you said firmly, already stepping forward.

The team fell into step behind you. You didn’t need to look to know Bucky was closest. His steps were quieter. Measured. The aura around him buzzed, still dim and grey and sad and full of edges.

John, on the other hand, radiated loud red, all ego and bravado.

Alexei was harder to read — his aura shifted between an affectionate gold and bright, crackling blue, like he felt too much at once and had no idea how to rein it in.

“So,” Alexei started, peering around your shoulder. “This aura power… does it let you see through walls? Do you feel heartbeats? Emotions? Can you sense guilt?”

You gave him a side-glance. “Kind of. And yes. Sometimes.”

John rolled his eyes. “She’s not a damn lie detector.”

Alexei gasped. “Can you tell if someone finds me attractive?”

That actually made you smirk. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Alexei grinned and bumped your shoulder like an overgrown golden retriever.

“Let her focus,” Bucky said from behind, his voice sharper than before. Not cruel. Protective. “She’s tracking something.”

You exhaled again, steadying your steps. You passed the cracked grate and turned into a narrow corridor. The ceiling sloped low and the air smelled charged, like static and smoke. Reed’s aura was stronger here, along with another.

Hot, bright. Reckless.

Whoever was with him — they were nothing like Reed.

You stopped at the end of the corridor and placed a hand on the wall again.

“There’s a door here,” you murmured. “But it’s cloaked. They don’t want to be found.”

Bucky moved to your side. “But we found them anyway.”

You didn’t look at him.

“They’ll know we’re here now,” you said softly. “We’re close enough that the heat of their auras is radiating through the wall.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Heat?”

Alexei adjusted his grip on his shield. “That means fire. I am certain.”

You didn’t answer. You just stepped back, heart pounding, and nodded once toward the sealed doorway.

“You ready?” Bucky asked.

You hesitated. Then nodded again.

This wasn’t just about finding someone anymore. It was about what you might unleash when you did.

The door didn’t open so much as melt.

One second it was solid wall. The next, it shimmered out of existence, sucked inward and twisted like taffy before folding into nothing.

You all stepped back instinctively.

Then came the voice — low, calculated, smooth as wet marble.

“I was wondering when one of you would find us.”

Reed Richards stepped into the corridor like he’d been waiting.

He was around 6 feet. Unassuming at first glance — built strong, hair dark but silvering at the sides, and a moustache adorning his top lip. His suit was grey-blue, faintly glowing at the seams, moulded to his frame in a way that hinted at lab-engineered fibres. But his aura… it shimmered like quicksilver. Smooth and opaque. Too controlled. You couldn’t read it. Not really.

And that disturbed you more than anything.

Beside him stood a younger man. Blonde. Lean. Arms crossed over his chest, leaning with one shoulder against the melted frame of the wall, looking bored. His aura, unlike Reed’s, blazed golden-orange. Fire. Excitement. Recklessness. You didn’t need to know who he was to know what he could do.

Johnny Storm.

“Aw, man,” Johnny said, grinning at Alexei. “They sent the big guy from the Cold War. That’s adorable.”

Alexei puffed his chest out, entirely unbothered. “And you are fire boy. Like spicy little meatball.”

Johnny raised a brow. “Okay, what cartoon did you crawl out of?”

Alexei shrugged with a grin. “One where fire boy always loses to big, handsome Russian.”

“Enough,” Reed cut in, voice calm but firm. “You found us. Now what?”

You glanced at Bucky — he said nothing, expression unreadable. This was his op. But you knew better than to wait for him.

“We’re not here to bring you in,” you said, stepping forward. “We just want to know why you’re here. Why now. After all this time.”

Reed tilted his head, studying you like you were a thesis. “You’re new.”

“She’s not your concern,” Bucky snapped, finally stepping up beside you.

Johnny looked between the two of you and let out a low whistle. “Whoa. Is there—”

“No,” you and Bucky said in unison.

Alexei beamed. “There is tension. I love this.”

John stepped forward, impatient now. “Look, Richards, we don’t care what you’re doing. But if you’re planning something that puts New York at risk—”

“We’re not,” Reed said.

Johnny cracked his knuckles, literal sparks flying. “Depends on your definition of risk.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then why hide?”

Reed hesitated — and that was the first real tell. A flicker. Not of fear. But caution.

“We’ve been watching what’s happening,” he said finally. “Valentina’s grip is tightening. Heroes are being drafted, monitored, muzzled. That’s not freedom. That’s control.”

“And what you’re doing—sneaking through Lower Manhattan—isn’t control?” John said.

Reed looked past him, eyes meeting yours.

“Control,” he said slowly, “is about fear. And power. You’d be surprised how easy it is to lose yourself in both.”

You felt Bucky shift beside you — a movement so slight you might’ve missed it. But you felt the tension spike in his aura. Like Reed’s words hit too close.

You didn’t like this. You didn’t like Reed’s blank aura. Or Johnny’s flippant confidence. Or the way Bucky kept himself between you and the others without even thinking.

“Valentina will want to speak to you,” Bucky said eventually. “You’ll come with us. Cooperate. Maybe you’ll get some say in your future.”

Reed’s smile was thin. “We’ll consider it. But first—”

From the depths of the warehouse, something groaned. A machine, maybe. A generator kicking to life. The sound trembled through the floor and sent a gust of warm air spiralling up the corridor.

Johnny rolled his neck. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?” Alexei echoed.

Johnny’s smile widened. “Yeah. That usually means you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

You barely had time to register the shift.

Reed’s eyes narrowed. A ripple — subtle, controlled — surged through the air. Energy, molecular, electromagnetic, something you couldn’t name. But you felt it in your bones. A warning.

And then everything exploded.

Johnny went first, launching into the air with a blast of flame that singed the warehouse ceiling black. Heat bloomed around him as he hovered, arms glowing like sunfire.

“You might wanna duck,” he shouted, and sent a fireball straight toward John.

Walker threw up his shield in time, catching the blast — but the impact sent him sliding several feet back, boots screeching across the floor. “Goddammit,” he muttered, shaking the singe off his arm. “I hate hotheads.”

Alexei roared, barreling forward like a battering ram toward Reed — only to be yanked back mid-stride by some force. His body twisted unnaturally for a moment, mid-air, until Reed flicked a hand and sent him crashing into a stack of metal crates.

You moved before you could think. Instinct. Training. Rage.

You sent out a wave — not full power, not like earlier with Bucky, but enough to shove Reed back into a wall. His body stretched and twisted as it hit, limbs warping and bending, like water trying to reform. He absorbed the blow with ease.

“Impressive,” he said, straightening. “But don’t overexert. I’m not the one you should be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of anyone,” you snapped.

Behind you, Bucky was a blur. He ducked a fire blast from Johnny, vaulted over debris, and slammed into the Human Torch with a tackle so powerful it knocked the air from Johnny’s lungs. They crashed into the scaffolding overhead, flames licking at Bucky’s sleeves, but he didn’t let go.

“Stand down!” Bucky shouted over the roar of heat. “This doesn’t have to end in a fight.”

“Too late!” Johnny coughed, blasting flame directly between them and launching Bucky back.

You turned in time to see John and Alexei regroup — Alexei’s suit was partially scorched, but he grinned like a lunatic, cracking his neck.

“I love this job,” he said, and charged again.

You focused on Reed, trying to get close — but he dodged like liquid, impossible to pin down. Every move you made, he anticipated, twisting out of reach.

The fight was chaos, fire and fists clashing in bursts of movement across the crumbling basement floor. Reed had stretched himself like a whipcord around Alexei’s limbs, trying to pull him down. John was ducking plasma blasts, while Bucky fought like a man possessed — until he wasn’t.

Johnny Storm roared overhead, his body engulfed in searing flame, eyes glowing like molten coals. He dove like a meteor, striking Bucky hard across the chest and sending him skidding across the floor, metal arm scraping against concrete, flesh side vulnerable. He didn’t get up.

Your breath hitched.

“Bucky!” you shouted, the sound tearing from your throat before you could stop it.

Johnny surged forward again, fire arcing from his palms.

“Get off him!” The scream escaped you like it had claws, primal and sharp.

Johnny didn’t even look at you — just raised a blazing hand, ready to strike Bucky again.

Something inside you snapped.

“He’s not yours to kill!” you yelled, voice shaking with fury. “He’s not yours!”

The air warped. A pulse of aura erupted from you like a wave — raw, hot, blistering with energy and emotion. Anger. Panic. Hate. Power.

It knocked Johnny sideways midair like a ragdoll, extinguishing his flames in a violent sputter. He crashed against a pillar with a groan. Your body seized up with power. Aura flared out in a violent, blinding wave. It knocked Reed backwards. Everyone felt it.

Your knees buckled.

You didn’t even hit the ground.

Strong arms caught you — cradled you against a broad, sweat-dampened chest. The scent of steel, warmth, and aftershave grounded you for a breath before the world tilted again.

“Hey—hey—stay with me,” Bucky’s voice was tight with panic. You were dimly aware of the fight pausing, of Johnny landing hard nearby, eyes wide with guilt.

“She’s out!” John barked.

Bucky lowered you gently, brushing a hand against your cheek, trying to keep you conscious.

“You did good,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You did good, okay? Stay with me, please.”

Everything spun. Your skin burned. Your powers roared in your veins, then flickered out like a dying match.

The last thing you saw before darkness took you was Bucky's face — tight-jawed, terrified — calling your name.

And then, nothing.

“Back off,” Bucky snapped, his voice like a razor.

He didn’t mean to sound so sharp — but Reed had taken a step forward, and that was too damn close. Too soon after you collapsed in his arms. Too close to the scorch marks still staining the floor.

Johnny’s flames had died down, but the air still shimmered with heat and tension. He held his hands up, guilty but defiant. “We didn’t know she’d react like that.”

“No one did,” Alexei muttered, hoisting his shield onto his back, eyeing your limp form with an expression unusually sombre for him.

John Walker hovered at the edge, his jaw tense. “Let’s get out of here.”

Bucky didn’t look up. He was kneeling beside you, one arm cradling your shoulders, the other checking your pulse for the third time.

Still there. Still steady. But faint.

“Are you okay?” he whispered under his breath, knowing you couldn’t answer. The question was mostly for himself. Because the longer he looked at your face — sweat-slicked, brow furrowed in unconscious pain — the more the ache in his chest grew.

You weren’t supposed to do this. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.

You were supposed to hate him. And yet, you saved him.

“Take a message back to Valentina,” Bucky finally said to John who was fingers were already tapping away on his comms device. Bucky rose to his feet with you in his arms. “Tell her this mission isn’t over. Reed Richards knows something. And we’re not done.”

Reed didn’t argue. His eyes were guarded now — calculating.

Johnny looked down, face lined with something close to regret. “I’m sorry,” he offered, voice quieter than usual. “Tell her I said that.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

He just walked past him, your body limp against his chest. John opened the door to the quinjet, letting him pass first. Alexei followed, his face unusually grim.

As they lifted off and the city shrank beneath them, no one spoke.

Not even John, who usually couldn’t shut up.

Alexei finally muttered, “She’s tough. She’ll bounce back.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the weight of you was still in his arms, the scent of smoke and lavender still in his lungs, and the echo of your power still ringing in his bones.

But worse than all of that — far worse — was the fear he couldn’t shake.

That maybe this wasn’t just a mission anymore.

That maybe he cared too much.

The quinjet touched down on the Avengers Tower rooftop, all smooth metal and humming engines, but Bucky didn’t wait for the platform to fully lower.

He was out of the hatch before anyone else moved, your body still limp in his arms.

Bob was already waiting by the med bay doors, having been alerted mid-flight. His holographic display flickered anxiously in one hand, the other pushing open the door with too-human urgency.

“In here, in here,” Bob chirped, worry lining every word. “Vitals first. Lay her flat.”

Bucky did. Gently. With more care than anyone had ever seen from him.

Your hair spilt over the crisp white pillow. You didn’t stir. Not even a wince.

“Her aura’s stabilising,” Bob muttered, scanning your forehead with a soft blue light. “But she pushed too far. Power surge like that? Burned straight through her neural pathways. She needs rest. Fluids. Maybe—”

The doors slammed open.

“What the hell happened?”

Sam.

Storming into the room, panic written all over his face, breath short like he’d flown in from five boroughs over. His eyes locked on you, then flicked to Bucky, and rage bloomed.

Bucky stood slowly from your bedside. He didn’t flinch.

“She lost control,” Bucky said, voice low.

“You were leading the mission.” Sam’s voice cracked, tight with fury. “You were with her. You said you had her. What did you do?!”

“I didn’t—” Bucky looked away. His jaw tensed. “She overreached. Tried to protect us. The power backfired. I didn’t see it coming.”

Sam stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides. “You should’ve. You’ve known her powers are unstable, you’ve seen it up close, and you still let her throw herself into the fight?”

“She made the call.”

“She's not a soldier, Bucky. She's still learning.”

“She’s not helpless either.”

“She’s hurt.” Sam snapped.

The room fell quiet.

The hum of the machines. The steady beep of your heart monitor. Bob’s hands moved gently, measuring your oxygen levels and watching your brainwave fluctuations, but his eyes darted nervously between the men.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Bucky said finally, almost like a question. “Right?”

Bob nodded. “She’s strong. Just... drained.”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to you.

Your breathing was soft. Uneven. And your hand twitched against the sheet — the only sign of life he could focus on.

Sam stepped forward again, his voice quieter now, but just as sharp. “This doesn’t happen again. You don’t get to act like her pain doesn’t cost you.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened. His voice was hoarse. “It does.”

And then he turned, heading for the door — because if he stayed a moment longer, he might say something he couldn’t take back.

Something like: I should’ve protected her first.

────✪────

The water roared as it slammed against Bucky’s back, hot enough to sting. But it wasn’t enough to wash away the gnawing feeling in his chest, the weight that settled into his bones every time his mind wandered back to the mission, to you.

His hands gripped the shower wall, fingers digging into the tiles as the steam surrounded him. He needed to feel something, anything, to get out of his head. The warmth of the water was almost painful, but it wasn’t the temperature that made his skin burn. No, it was the memory of your face, unconscious on that cold metal floor, your body limp in his arms.

It hit him in waves—how fragile you were, yet how strong, how... alive—but still so much like him. Like him in the ways you shouldn’t be, in the way you fought for others without thinking of yourself. And now, he’d let you fall. He’d let you suffer the weight of your own powers without catching you.

His breath caught. He dropped his head, feeling the cascade of water streak over his face. The guilt felt like a noose around his neck, tugging tighter with every breath. He had to save you, had to make sure nothing else happened to you—but it was too late.

The droplets ran down his body, the slickness of the water making his muscles ache as the steam filled his lungs. His mind drifted, despite his best efforts, to your face, your eyes. Those damned eyes that had read through him so easily. That moment when you said you were just looking at him...

It had driven him crazy. More than it should. More than it had to. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about you like this.

And then, your last words: “He’s not yours!”

He was supposed to be focused. Protecting. But all he could think of was the way you held yourself, the way your body had felt when he lifted you into his arms, so delicate but strong. The tension between you when he touched you, when he lifted you up to the vent, when he fought alongside you.

He hated it.

But then, he hated how much he wanted it, too.

His hands ran down his face, brushing away droplets, but the heat of the shower only made him feel hotter. His chest tightened as his mind replayed those moments: the brush of your lips in the chaos, the wildness of your energy, the way your scent lingered in the air.

He couldn’t stop himself. His body reacted without his permission—his breath deepened, chest rising and falling in rhythm to his pulse. He gritted his teeth as his muscles flexed, suddenly aware of the way the steam clung to his skin, the slickness of his hands trailing over his hard abs in frustration.

He wished they were your hands.

He closed his eyes and tried to block it out, but the thought of you—of the way you looked at him, of how he wanted to touch you again—made his pulse spike, his body betraying him as he pushed away the thoughts.

“Fuck.”

The word escaped his lips before he could stop it, his hands slamming against the wall in frustration. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to want you.

And yet, here he was, drenched in guilt, drenched in steam, drenched in something else entirely.

The water kept pouring over him. Cold in the places it hit the skin that hadn’t been touched by the steam. Hot where his body burned with thoughts of you.

His body, however, didn’t care about his guilt. It only cared about the heat, the desperate desire that pooled low in his stomach as his thoughts of you grew more intense. He tried to shut it down, tried to focus on the sound of the water, but it was no use. His body betrayed him. The ache between his legs was unmistakable.

He reached down, his hand trembling slightly as he touched himself, the rough motion a quick, desperate attempt to rid himself of the thoughts that swirled around in his mind. His heart raced as his hand moved, fingers curled around his length that was already achingly hard, thoughts of you filling every inch of his being. He imagined the way you’d feel beneath him, your breath quickening as his lips brushed against yours, your body pressed against his.

Bucky pumped at his cock with one hand, and used the other hand to steady himself against the slippy tile wall. This was wrong, this was so wrong. Bucky cursed your name under his breath, over and over again. He’d never felt this way before, not about anyone. And if you found out about this… God, the mere thought terrified Bucky.

But the more he imagined, the faster his hand moved, the pressure building until it became unbearable. He couldn’t think of anything else—just you. Your lips, your skin, your defiance and strength. The way you made him feel so alive.

With a low groan, Bucky came, the release overwhelming him. Bursts of his cum painted the tiles on the wall white and the tension in his body shattered like glass. He grabbed a washcloth to clean the mess he made and turned the shower off. 

But as the high faded, so did the sense of relief. Guilt and shame flooded back, cold and heavy.

“Get it out of your system, Barnes,” he muttered to himself, voice rough, almost bitter. “You’re not some damn kid.”

But even as he said the words, he knew the truth. He wasn’t over you. He couldn’t be. He’d never be able to stop wanting you.

The hallway lights buzzed faintly as Bucky stepped out of the elevator and into the sterile calm of the med bay floor. His damp hair was slicked back, a dark shirt clinging to him like it didn’t want to let go of the heat still rolling off his skin.

He moved toward your room on instinct.

Bob was sitting beside your bed, hunched over a monitor, glasses sliding down his nose. He didn’t look up until Bucky’s boots scuffed the tile.

“She’s stable,” Bob murmured, adjusting a dial. “Vitals are strong. She just needs rest. Should wake up in a couple days.”

Bucky nodded once, silently. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Not yet. Not while guilt still twisted in his chest like a blade.

Bob glanced up at him. “You did everything right, you know.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He turned, jaw tight, and left the room.

Back upstairs, the tower buzzed with low voices and hurried footsteps. The tension was thick. People moving with purpose. Focus. Victory humming just beneath the surface.

The others had succeeded.

Yelena was the first to spot him as he stalked into the main briefing hallway.

“Bucky,” she called, jogging to catch up. Her short braid swayed as she fell into step beside him. “Valentina wants to debrief you. Alexei and John too. She’s… not thrilled.”

“Big surprise,” he muttered.

“She thinks you screwed the pooch.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Yelena paused, then nodded toward the security wing. “Sue Storm and the orange guy—Thing? They’re in Interrogation Two. Sam and Joaquin are with them. They’re cooperative. Friendly, even.”

Bucky arched a brow. “They just walked in?”

“They said they were waiting to be found.” She gave him a teasing glance. “Unlike your guy.”

He grunted.

Yelena’s voice softened. “Seriously, you okay?”

He didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

Inside the observation room, through the two-way glass, Bucky spotted Sam leaning on the edge of the table, mid-conversation with Sue and Ben Grimm. Joaquin was typing something into a tablet, and Ben was eating what looked like his third protein bar.

Sue noticed Bucky’s shadow at the door and offered a nod. Cool. Controlled.

He didn’t go in.

“Come on, Soldier,” Yelena nudged, jerking her thumb down the corridor. “Valentina’s waiting in Briefing Room C. She’s already got Alexei and Walker in there getting grilled.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose. As if the steam of the shower had done nothing to purge the fire still simmering in his veins.

Valentina always had a way of making everything worse.

And if she asked what went wrong…

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to say it aloud.

That you’d been the strongest one there. And that he let you fall anyway.

The briefing room was dimly lit, the air stale with the cold scent of old coffee and control. Bucky walked in to find Valentina seated at the head of the table like a queen bored with her kingdom. Legs crossed, tablet in hand, red lips pursed in mock interest.

John sat off to the side with his arms crossed, wearing that smug “I’m not responsible for anything” expression. Alexei, by contrast, was visibly restless, bouncing his knee and cracking his knuckles like a teenager waiting to be scolded by a parent he could probably snap in half.

Valentina looked up as Bucky entered, and smiled—not warmly.

“Well, look who survived the sewer.”

Bucky didn’t rise to it. “Get to it.”

“Straight to business,” she sighed, tossing the tablet down with a dramatic clack. “No apology. No explanation. Just straight-up Alpha Male Cold Shoulder. Your charm is truly wasted on national security.”

Alexei shifted, muttering under his breath. “Is she always like this?”

“Worse,” John replied.

Valentina ignored them. She leaned forward, her tone suddenly razor-sharp. “You had one objective: locate and safely extract Reed Richards. Instead, you lost control of the situation, engaged in a firefight with allies, and brought back nothing but an unconscious asset and a headache.”

Bucky’s jaw flexed. “They attacked first. Reed was lying low for a reason.”

“Don’t feed me lines like I wasn’t watching the feed.” She tapped the table, where blurred thermal footage flickered to life. “You lost control of the situation. The girl blacked out. Walker was flailing. Alexei was—well, Alexei-ing. And you?” Her gaze pinned Bucky like a needle. “You froze. You rushed to her instead of finishing the fight.”

“Because she was—” He stopped himself. Took a breath. “She was down. She needed help.”

“She is not your priority, James,” Valentina said flatly.

Alexei bristled. “Hey. She saved our asses. You weren’t there.”

Valentina’s eyes flicked to him. “And I’m not sure you belong there either, Red Guardian. This isn’t the Soviet circus.”

Alexei leaned forward, grinning with too many teeth. “You’re just mad because my team actually likes me.”

John smirked, but Bucky spoke over them. “The mission’s not over. We made contact. We know where Reed and Johnny are. We can work with that.”

“You lost the element of surprise,” Valentina countered. “And what you can work with is my patience—which is thinning by the second. Richards is slipping through your fingers, and I’m not sending the entire tower to clean up your mistakes.”

Bucky held her gaze. “Then don’t. Just send me.”

Valentina’s smile curled like smoke. “Oh, honey. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A tense silence followed, broken only by the low buzz of the projector screen behind her.

Then, cool as ever, she stood and smoothed her blazer. “Debriefing’s over. Get her stable, regroup, and next time—try not to let your personal feelings compromise the mission.”

She walked out without waiting for a reply, heels clicking like gunfire against the floor.

Alexei muttered something in Russian.

John finally uncrossed his arms. “I hate that woman.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He was already heading for the door.

────✪────

The med bay was still, cloaked in sterile shadows and the low, persistent rhythm of machines beeping beside your bed. It was late—most of the tower had gone quiet hours ago—but Bucky stayed.

He sat in the chair beside you, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was praying. He’d changed into a dark hoodie and sweatpants, damp hair curling slightly at the ends from the shower. The exhaustion in his eyes ran deeper than the mission. His body was still, but tension hummed beneath his skin.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, studied the furrow in your brow like you were fighting even now, even in sleep.

"I don’t know if you can hear me," he said finally, voice low and scratchy. "I’m guessing not. But I... needed to talk. And you’re the only one I think I can say this to."

He leaned back slowly in the chair, letting his head hit the wall behind him. His jaw worked as he tried to shape the next words, fingers flexing in his lap like he wasn’t used to speaking them aloud.

"You ever get tired of carrying ghosts?" he asked, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “'Cause I do. Every mission, every second of peace I get—it’s borrowed time. I used to think if I just kept going, if I kept fighting, the guilt would shut up. But it doesn’t. It just gets quieter. Trickier."

His gaze dropped back to you.

"I hated how loud you were, at first. You just... came in swinging. No fear. No filter." His mouth curved, faintly. "You called me an asshole before you even knew me."

He paused. Swallowed.

"And I miss it. I miss the way you rolled your eyes at me. The way you pushed every button like you were born to do it. You made me feel like I was still real. Like I wasn’t just the guy in the file. The weapon. The relic."

He reached forward without thinking, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek with calloused fingers. He stopped himself before his hand lingered too long.

"I don’t know what happened to you out there. I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve protected you. But all I could think about was—was how scared you looked, right before you fell. I can’t get it outta my head."

His voice cracked slightly, but he cleared it before continuing.

"And now I’m sitting here talkin’ to you like you’re gonna wake up and start yelling at me again. But part of me hopes you do. That you wake up, call me a dick, and ask for food." A breath of a laugh. "I’d take that over this silence any day."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again, hands raking through his hair.

"You’re stronger than you think. Whatever’s inside you, whatever’s chasing you—I’ve seen people break from half of what you’ve survived. But not you."

Silence stretched for a few beats. Then, quietly:

"Come back, alright? I need someone to argue with."

And he stayed there, beside you, long after the machines hummed on and the world outside forgot how soft he could be.

────✪────

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world

Fic taglist: @ruexj283 @avengemepercy @espressovz @sebastians-love @cherryandsugar @torntaltos @ficr3ccs @sexyvixen7 @starstruckfirecat @mikaylacriiistina @imaginecrushes @1000shipsnh @bcksgirl

Want to be added to a taglist? Let me know which one!

[yoiisa]

Hey Sofie!! Hope you're doing well! I wanted to make a request for a Wind breaker fic if that's okay!

Can you do a Sakura Haruka x Reader one where Reader's been pining (mutually but Sakura is so dense he doesn't even know what he's feeling) after Sakura for like a while. And like just recently figured out that they've liked him romantically.

I'm pretty sure you know how sensitive Sakura is to romantic stuff, and if you've read the manga, and has like a romantic sensor where he can tell someone has feelings just by the look in their face.

Now, what about Reader is trying their best to hide their feelings for Sakura and Sakura is like 'THEY LIKE SOMEONE?!' And that's the whole plot. They get together by the end of it.

IM REALLY SORRY IF I'M LIKE BEING TOO SPECIFIC ITS JUST THAT THIS CAME TO MY MIND AND I COULDNT GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD 💔😣

Feel free to ignore if you don't like this 🙏 Thanks for reading!! 🌹

this is so cute oml. it reminded me of this time I didn't realize a guy had a crush on me until five months after we stopped talking and my friend was the one who pointed it out (ᵕ—ᴗ—) im suuuppper dense irl!

➜ in my mind, the first person to actually bring it up to Sakura would be Nirei. Like, it would be as they're leaving school for the day, and you happen to be there ➜ here's the thing though: like you said, he can still tell something's up. that blush you're rocking doesn't go unnoticed. he just thinks it's for someone else entirely

"Sakura!" you call, waving your hand. Nirei, Suo, Kiryu, Sakura, and Tsuguera come to a pause as they see you walk over. You hold some small wrapped candies out to them. "I got these in a goodie bag from the arcade. I don't like these flavors so you can have them!" Sakura, cocking his head to the side just huffs. He can feel his face growing warmer by the minute, and he's not about that. He casts his gaze off to the side and huffs, "I don't want your leftovers . . ." but he still takes them! "That was really nice of [name]!" Nirei says as you send them a wave and walk away. "What flavors did she bring?" Kiryu asks, peaking at the wrappers in Sakura's hands. Sakura rolls his eyes and practically throws them into Nirei's hands. "Tch. Who cares? She just wanted an excuse to come over here and see Suo." When the boys all freeze and stare at him like he's grown fifty heads, all he can manage is a flustered "The fuck are you looking at?!"

➜ and here's the kicker. this goes on for months. literal months of sakura thinking that you want suo, because every time you come over, suo just happens to be nearby. ➜ you also go to suo for advice on Sakura as well, so you're spending even more time with him through that, and it really isn't helping your case here ➜ all of the other boys can tell though, that it's sakura you want, but none of them say anything: nirei feels bad for keeping quiet and tries to change the subject whenever you come up, kiryu says you could do better (which sakura wholeheartedly agrees with, completely oblivious to what kiryu's actually saying) tsuguera doesn't really care all that much, and suo? ➜ SUO THINKS IT'S HILARIOUS ➜ always one to mess with sakura, he's taking this incredibly seriously. he nods in agreement with sakura's assessments, and moans about how "it's too bad, she's such a nice girl but I'm just no interested . . . oh what to do . . ." ➜ and sakura feels bad, so he overcompensates for what suo's "lacking" ➜ he's more warm with you when you walk up to him ➜ if the two of you go somewhere together after/before school starts, like kotoha's restaurant, he'll carry your bags for you. if you see something you like, like a keychain or even one time, just a really good looking apple, by the next day, it's yours. you get worried at first that sakura's spreading his funds low over you, but he just waves you off and says it's from bofurin's influence.

"Sakura, seriously?" you sigh as he holds out a tiny stuffie of a white puppy with a black spot on its eye. "I didn't even touch it . . ." "But you wanted it didn't you?" Sakura asks before gently tossing the small dog to you. "I saw you staring at it when we walked past." "Yeah, but I didn't get it because it's a collectors edition from this brand. This must've been crazy expensive!" Sakura just shrugs. "The owner of that store gave me a discount. Said his daughter knows Umemiya or something. Said he likes Bofurin . . ." You gently stroke the soft fabric of the dog's coat. you do really like it, and the asymmetrical design kinda reminds you of Sakura. Your eyes widen as a hand comes up and pats you. When you look up through your lashes, you see Sakura's face growing pinker by the second. You feel your own cheeks heat as he says, "You wanted it, [name]. That's . . . that's reason enough." His words are hardly a whisper, and his voice is hoarse, as if he's forcing them out. Still, it's genuine enough that it earns a bright smile from you, and a soft "Thank you."

➜ eventually sakura reaches his breaking point with suo, because he wants you! of course he wants you, who wouldn't? you're smart, talented, and beautiful! suo is so ungrateful for not appreciating you properly, and sakura tells him as much

"What's your damage asshole?" Sakura grumbles one day as he pokes a straw through his juice box. It's hot outside, and he just got finished cleaning up grafiti on the side of some convenience store. "Hmm? What do you mean?" Suo asks as he wipes his forehead on the collar of his shirt. "If you don't have feelings for her, just reject her already," Sakura snaps. "It's worse for you to drag it out and make her think she has a chance with you-" "Who're you talking about?" Hiragi asks, unwrapping his ice cream sandwich. "[name]," Suo says. "You know her?" "Oh," Hiragi says. "Eh, not all that much. I saw her at Kotoha's restaurant the other day though. She was talking about some guy thing, but I could've sworn she said 'Sakura' and not 'Suo'-"

➜ oh lordy, poor sakura's brain just breaks ➜ like full on short circuits ➜ because what the actual fuck does hiragi mean you were talking about him to kotoha? that doesn't make any sense ➜ but when he looks up at nirei and suo, they're giving him knowing smiles. ➜ he thinks back to the past four months and how you were always trying to single him out from the group. he thinks about the sparkle in your eyes whenever you saw him and how you brighten, and how your smile widens, and how- ➜ HOLY SHIT YOU LIKE HIM-

Sakura body is moving before he can even compute anything happening around him. Suddenly, his entire being is on a one track minded sprint to your side, desperate to see you. You're standing outside, taking out the trash when he turns the corner to your street. You have lounge shorts on, a loose white shirt and your hair tied in a low ponytail. You fluff your shirt's collar to try and ventilate yourself better on this hot day, and as you look up, you see Sakura. "Oh! Sakura, hi-" You hardly manage another word, as he practically collapses onto you. His arms come around your shoulders and he squeezes. "You should've told me, idiot." "W-what?" you stammer, your arms coming up to his biceps. He huffs and pulls back, staring at you. His face is so red, he looks sunburnt, but you know he's just incredibly embarrassed. "I like you too, dumbass. So . . . so you should've told me! I was thinking it was Suo this whole time!" You give him an unimpressed look. "Suo? Seriously?" "Still!" Sakura cries out before shaking his head. He wraps his arms around you in a tight hug and huffs. "Whatever. It's over now anyways. I know everything and you know everything so we're good now." You return the hug, your arms equally tight and nod.

➜ around the corner, nirei, suo, and hiragi stand there, watching the spectacle unfold ➜ hiragi is just incredibly confused, but nirei looks close to tears of happiness and suo's messaging in a separate group chat with nirei, kiryu, and tsuguera. one that they made specifically to gossip about you and sakura

suo hayato: (one attached photo) SUCCESS! ദ്ദി´ ˘ `)✧

[kissenturine]

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀 boothill x m!reader — 3.3k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: mechanic!reader, sub!reader, reader gives boothill a dick, reader takes away his censorship, mean dom!boothill, maybe ooc!boothill, fingering, heavy heavy dirty talk, boothill calls reader a whore & slut, boothill steps on reader's dick, blowjobs (boothill receiving), degradation. lmk if i missed anything!!

KAI SAYS: boy am i down bad for this little space cowboy

As a hardworking mechanic, you often pride yourself on your accomplishments. You—like any decent one—had many. From what you worked with to what you managed to fix, there were many things that could be considered impressive to a crowd.

None of them, however, were as impressive as the time you managed to remove Boothill’s censorship and give him back what he called: “a missing piece of his heart.”

Your dimly lit mechanic shop is cluttered with tools amongst other sharp things. Scattered about every flat surface usable is a screw, nail, wire, metal board—anything you could make use of. In the centre of the workshop is the only real space you kept clean.

Sitting in the middle of the room is a large, metallic workbench. It’s impressive, to say the least. Hooked up to an uncountable number of wires, switches and knobs decorating the sides, tools hanging from hooks, everything about it is a sight to behold.

What’s more impressive—even more magnificent—is the man sitting on top of it.

With his legs sprawled out and his head idly lolling from side to side, Boothill himself is a man to bless the eyes. The way his body worked, how each wire and sensor inside his cyborg body worked in tandem with each other to create the masterpiece that was him.

Of course, you only think like that because you’re a mechanic. You know how hard it is to put together a synesthetic body part, let alone a whole human being.

To people who don’t know the complexities of machinery, they might just think he’s a handsome cyborg. And really, they weren’t wrong. Whoever created his body, whether it was Boothill himself or another person, was quite the artist with the way they’d managed to create Boothill as a cyborg and still leave in his human charm.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Boothill grumbles, pulling you very quickly out of your thoughts. “Ya gonna continue starin’ or ya gonna actually help a guy out?” He waved at the dent in his hip, a noticeable cave to the metal plate.

“Yes, yes.” You huff. While you did find the cyborg part of Boothill impressive, his personality… not so much. He was endearing at times, but mostly he could be a pain in the ass.

A lot of the time, he’d get himself scratched and broken just to come back to you only when he’s on the brink of shutting down. Or, he’d either only come to you with the smallest, most irrelevant and easy-to-fix problems known to man.

His current state being the latter.

You make your way carefully over to Boothill, dropping to your knees beside the workbench to inspect the minimal damage done to his hip. “It’s… not even that bad.” You murmur, eyes darting up to his. “You could probably play it off as a hip dip or something.”

“Nope!” Boothill grunts, moving his metallic hand to tap against the metal of his hip. “Not happenin’ cutie. Need this body o’ mine to be in tip-top condition for my next bounty.” He grins widely, stretching his legs in front of him as he rests his arms back behind his head.

You only roll your eyes in response, already pulling out your screwdriver to replace Boothill’s so-called “broken” hip. “Whatever you say then…” You grumble, working away at the screws on the plate.

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.” Boothill hums, absentmindedly picking at the metal of his shoulder.

You wince at the nickname, your eyes shifting from where you’re working to Boothill’s face. “What’s with the nicknames…?” You say, voicing your curiosity. “We’ve known each other for what, six months now?” You raise an eyebrow at him before you continue. “Six months, and we're not even dating yet you always seem to use some form of a nickname.”

“Well,” Boothill hums, “the guy that made this good ol’ body of mine decided I would benefit from losing a thing or two. Those bein’ my ability to swear and of course my clock.”

“Your… clock?” You give him a confused look as you screw the metal back into place, finishing off his new hip.

“No, no, cutie, not an actual clock.” Boothill rolls his eyes. “My, uh, manhood, ya know?”

“Your…” You trail off. “Oh.”

He grins at you, opening his legs widely on the table. “Look if ya want, I got nothin’ to hide down there.” He gives you a wink before leaning further into your workbench.

You glance down at his crotch and see that it is, indeed, very flat. I guess what he said is true then…

You’re about to pick up your tools when you hear Boothill call for you, his name dropping from his lips. “Hey, uh, you don’t happen to have any o’ those synesthetic clocks, do ya?”

You give Boothill a blank look. While you did have a few lying around, as per a customer who was willing to pay a hefty price of seven million credits for one, you didn’t think Boothill would want one.

“Yeah…” You eventually respond. “I do.”

Boothill’s eyes widen as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes. “Oh, mother fudgin’!” He says before eagerly jumping off the workbench. “Please,” he begs, “ya gotta hook me up with one! Haven’t felt it in so long, ‘s like a piece of my heart’s been missing!”

You cringe at his choice of terminology before looking up at the pleading man. “Well, they cost a hefty price—”

“I’m willin’ t’pay!” Boothill cries, the same pleading tone still present in his voice. “Please, anythin’ for my clock back!”

“I—y’know what, fine.” You grumble, not having the energy to think up an argument. You wave your hand at your workbench. “Sit on the edge while I grab one. I’m just gonna assume you want the biggest size.”

You hear the faint rumble of Boothills laugh. “Oh, darlin’ you know me so well!”

You roll your eyes, pulling out a key to unlock a drawer where you kept your synesthetic… manhoods. You eye them all, cautiously taking one on the very left end before closing the drawer and going back up to Boothill.

“So.” You say, holding the synesthetic member awkwardly in front of Boothill. “Eight inches, pretty thick, the colour an’ design of the metal goes pretty well with your cyborg parts, I think it matches you.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Boothill grins, his sharp teeth shining under the light. “Now that's what I’m talking about. Can’t wait to have my fudgin’ shift back.”

You roll your eyes at the censorship before tapping Boothill’s knee. “Spread your legs, gotta get to you if you want me to actually put this on.”

Boothill gives you a teasing look and you already know what he’s about to comment on. “If you wanted to see my new duck in action, ya could’ve jus’ asked.” He grins and you roll your eyes again. Just what you predicted.

“Shut up and spread your legs.” You say, a harsh tone evident in your voice. This time Boothill complies, his knees spreading as you once again take your place, kneeling on the floor—this time between his legs.

Slowly, you unscrew the metal panel on Boohill’s crotch area.

Once it’s fully out, you take a peek into the hole you just opened, trying to grasp what you’re working with. You puff out your cheeks, sighing as you peer into the hole between Boothill’s legs.

There’s an assortment of jumbled wires, a few switches, and—is that a remote control? With two fingers, you manage to pry your way into the cavity in Boothill’s crotch. Lithly and carefully, you pull the remote from the little clasp it was stuck in before sliding it out.

You inspect it cautiosly, taking note of how there’s only one singular switch on the flat of it. You contemplate flipping it, but then it crosses your mind that touching random things that came from inside Boothill’s body wasn’t the best idea.

Setting the remote to the side for later, you continue your work with Boothill’s new member.

Carefully, very, very carefully, you attach each wire to the base of Boothill’s new appendage, making sure everything is kept neat and tidy. With a quick glance up at Boothill, you can instantly tell he’s at least somewhat relaxed.

“Boothill.” You call, tapping the inside of his metal thigh. “I’m gonna connect the synesthesia now, so you might get a bit…” You cough awkwardly. “Aroused… But just ignore it and try not to like—y’know, cum all over my face.”

Boothill grins down at you, once again flashing you his sharp teeth. “Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’ve got some self-control.”

You nod your head, cautiously pushing the two wires together. The instant you twist them into place, you hear Boothill let out a loud groan. “Fudge, I missed this.” He murmurs, his dick twitching to life right in front of your face.

The sight, being able to watch as the new tip of his metal cock twitches and lifts, sends a shiver down your spine—one you chose to ignore as much as possible. Your hands go back to his shaft, gently pressing a screw in and Boothill lets out a loud hiss, his dick twitching in your hand.

“Darlin’ you’re teasin’ me.” He grunts before peering down at you through half-lidded eyes.

You don’t say anything, making sure to work carefully at his dick, making sure everything is functioning. As you trail your hand along the underside of his shaft, Boothill’s thigh twitches, pushing against your head and forcing your face closer to his cock.

You let out a squeal of surprise, eyes darting up to Boothill, whose face is flushed a warm pink with his teeth pulled between his lips. “Didn’t know this would affect you this much.” You murmur, a playful edge in your voice. You hate to admit it, but you’re already half-hard from being so close to Boothill and working on him in such an… intimate way.

“Shut it, darling.’” The cyborg grunts, and you laugh at the way his hands curl into fists beside him. “Haven’t felt like this in a while.”

“I can tell.” You hum, tapping his tip a few times and smirking at the loud groan that leaves his lips.

“Fudging—” Boothill grunts, his hand grabbing tightly at your shoulder as you stand up. “Such a fudgin’ tease, aren’t ya, sweetie?”

“Dunno what you're talking about Boothill.” You say, feigning innocence. Sitting up from your kneeling position you grab the remote. “Any idea what this is?” You question, showing it to Boothill.

He eyes it carefully before shrugging. “Nah, got no clue.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” You huff. “Cause I found it inside you.”

Boothill gapes at you, his jaw going slack. “Inside me!?” He roars. “And you just—just took it out!? What if I need that to live?!”

“Relax, cowboy,” you groan, his loud voice getting on your nerves slightly, “it wasn’t connected to anything, and you seem pretty fine now.”

Boothill glares at you seemingly having forgotten about his rock-hard erection standing tall against his metal abs. “Give it here.” He says, making a ‘give’ motion with his fingers. He practically snatches it from your hand the instant you’re within arm's reach, his hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer as he grabs at the remote. “Hmm…” He hums, inspecting it in his hands. Slowly, he slides the panel down, revealing two short words that make the two of you gasp.

“Censorship… Control.” Boothill reads, and you instantly snatch the remote into your hands.

“Hey!” Boothill yells! “Wait a darn minute—I need that!”

“No,” you respond flatly, “you don’t. Whoever built in that censorship must’ve done it for a reason—”

“Yeah!” Boothill grunts. “To annoy the fudge outa me!” He growls again, desperately trying to reach for the remote again. “Oh, fudgin’ give it! What’ll it take for you to give me the darn thing?!”

You grin.

Finally, he asked.

“I think a good enough payment would be to test out this new dick of yours.”

Boothill’s expression turns from anger and annoyance to a smirk in the blink of an eye. His hands are no longer grabbing at the remote, and instead resting on your waist. “Oh?” He coos. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.” He smirks, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “But a test drive would be so much more fun if I had my swearin’ back. Think of all the dirty lil’ things I could say to you, hm?”

Your face flushes as you feel Boothill’s cool breath fan over your ear. “I bet you'd really like if I turned it off, be able to swear to your heart’s content” You do your best to stand your ground, ignoring the blood that rushes to your cock and the way your pants grow tight. “But I think I can think of a better way to put your mouth to use.”

Boothill growls lowly, his grip moving from your waist to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze. “Turn it off and I might just show you what this mouth of mine is capable of.”

“Hmph.” You grunt. “Fine. Let's see how dirty this mouth of yours can get, Boothill." You whisper, your warm breath fanning over his chest. With that, you’re flicking his censorship off, once again leaving Boothill free to say whatever he wants.

“Atta boy.” He growls.

Boothill’s eyes narrow as you flick the remote, effectively ending his censorship. Your face flushes, watching his lips pull into a wide grin as he grips your ass, tugging down your pants and leaving them dropped at your ankles. “Don’t worry whore, I’ll show you just how good I am.” Boothill growls, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ll have you screaming my name while you’re wrapped ‘round my cock.”

You don’t say anything, only moving to press your face further into his neck.

“I’ll tell you every dirty word, every filthy thought that crosses my mind while I pound into your tight fuckin’ hole.” Boothill groans, starting to tug down your boxers too.

And suddenly, like he only now could process the extent that he could speak, Boothill is tugging you away from him only to press his lips harshly into you, murmuring into the kiss as he does. “You little slut, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re stuffed fuckin’ full of my dick. You’ll be drenched in your own cum, worshiping my cock, begging for more.” He lets out a loud groan, pulling away. “And don’t think you can fuckin’ hide, ‘cause I’ll take you right here an’ now, on your stupid workbench.”

A wicked grin spreads across his face, watching the sight of your absolute arousal dripping down your dick.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ hard.” He wraps his palm around your cock, giving it a sharp tug before pulling his hand away only to return with a sharp slap against your tip. “Bet you’d pull your pants down for anyone on the street, like a common whore.”

You whine, knees buckling at the slap. You collapse onto Boothill’s chest, letting out a plethora of pathetic sounds as you do.

“Aww.” Boothill coos, lifting your chin to face him. “This weak already?”

He grips your body, getting off your workbench only to lay you on top of it. You lay flat on your tummy, with you face pressed into the thin padding of the workbench.

“You’re gonna be a good boy now, an’ take what I give you, ‘kay?” Boothil says, bending your knees to push your ass into the air. His finger teases your puckered hole, tracing your rim, but never pushing anything in,

“Boothill.” You whine. “Put it in already!”

“What’d I say?” Boothill growls, bringing down a hand against your ass in a harsh spank. “That you’re gonna take what?”

“T-Take what you give me!” You whine, pressing your face into the cushion in embarrassment.

You can’t believe what’s currently happening. Here you are, face down and your ass in the air as Boothill eases a finger into your tight hole, occasionally giving mean spanks against your balls and ass.

Eventually, Boothill presses his first finger in. The feeling makes you gasp out, your back arching against the workbench. His fingers are so thick. You whine out, instinctively rocking your hips against his fingers.

“That’s it.” Boothill praises, bringing a hand to rub your back gently. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, like a good lil’ slut.” He presses in another finger, beginning to match the pace of your hips as he curls them.

He thrusts them in and out, and in and out until you’re seeing stars. Your eyes are rolled back, drool slipping from your lips as you moan and writhe against Boothill’s hand. He curls his fingers, easily finding your prostate and laughing cruelly when your dick twitches.

“Fuck, you’re so easy.” He moans, watching you fuck against his fingers. Slowly, he grabs his new metal dick, dragging the cool tip across the crack of your ass. You whine, your eyes squeezing shut at the cold sensation.

“Boothill!” You moan out. “D-Don’t stop, I—I’m so close!”

“Oh?” He questions. “And who told you that you had any right to tell me what to do?”

Just like that, he’s pulling his fingers away from you. You’re a whining, crying mess at that. Sobbing about how you needed his fingers, his dick, his anything to make you come. “Please!” You beg. “Need t’cum so badly!”

“Really?” Boothill smirks. “If that’s really what you want…” He tugs you off the workbench, watching you fall to the floor into a pathetic heap. “Then beg me for it.”

You nod eagerly, instantly getting on your knees and kissing against Boothill’s hard cock. The rough concrete of the floor is painful against your bare knees, but you can make due.

You’re quick to take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the cool metal before pressing your lips slightly lower. Your tongue presses down, forced to drag along his underside the more you take him in.

You blink up at Boothill, tears welling in your eyes as you plead with him to help you. Help you. Use you. It didn’t matter.

Boothill lets out a tsk before grabbing your hair harshly. “What happened to my smart mechanic I knew so well? When’d he get replaced by this cock-hungry bitch who can’t even suck dick to save his life?”

At that, Boothill’s pressing your face all the way down. Your nose pokes at the cold metal of his pelvis before he’s pulling you back and thrusting his dick deep down your throat. He sets a quick pace, fucking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a fleshlight for him to use and throw away at his disposal.

Your jaw hangs slack, tongue forcefully dragging along the metal of his cock. Drool slips from your lips but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when your mouth is being stuffed so full. Boothill’s pace quickens and you moan weakly around his cock, feeling something poke at your own.

From what you manage to see through the corner of your eye, Boothill is stepping on your dick, rubbing the sole of his dirty shoe against your tip as it leaks precum all over the rough concrete. The feeling of his shoe on your dick, his cock stuffing your mouth—it’s all enough to send you over the edge.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your cock twitching pathetically under Boothill’s shoe as you shoot ropes of cum from your tip. Some of it sticks to the bottom of his shoe, and some squirts farther. Boothill laughs, rubbing his shoe harder into your dick, watching you whine around his cock.

“C’mon slut, you can take it. This is the payment you wanted, so don’t go crying on me now.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

[cinakira]

dual function IR sensor switches for 12V led lights .(hand wave sensor and door trigger sensor )

mini shape and easy installation .

IR motion sensor switch#IR sensor switch # 12v ir sensor switch#

ir door sensor switch#

[brookediamonds]

who's the guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad, mmm?

Part 2 to ‘Who’s the cute boy with the white (black) jacket and the thick accent?’

Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: After you and Axel confirm each other’s interest in each other, you decide to take things a step further and attempt to go on a date when, of course, there’s the trouble of Cobra Kai.

gif is not mine

(In Croatian, "ljubavi" is pronounced "loo-buh-vee" and is used to address someone directly. It translates to “love.”)

—————————————————————————

“Thanks for walking me back to my room,” you say turning back to the tall Croatian boy trailing next to you.

You stop when you reach your room, pulling your key card out of your pockets from your dress.

“Of course,” Axel nods eyes trailing down to your body.

“Oh,” you realized you’re still wearing his jacket, beginning to shrug it off. “Your jacket, here.”

“No,” he holds his hands out to your shoulders keeping you from removing the piece of clothing. “You keep it, ljubavi.”

“Oh, giving nick names are we?” You tease Axel, slipping your hands around his torso.

He lets out a small laugh, snaking his large hands around the back of your neck making you feel giddy inside.

He’s delicate with his touch, gently tilting your head back so it allows him to lean down and softly graze his lips with yours.

You sigh as he pulled away, your lips almost reach up for more affection but knew it was getting late and another round of events waited for you in the morning.

“Good night, (Y/n),” he whispers pressing one final peck to your forehead. Your heart flutters in your chest as he pulls away.

Watching him walk to the elevator, you tap your key card against the sensor and twist the handle, ready to go inside.

But not without looking back towards the handsome flushed boy, waving him one more goodbye.

Once you finally make it inside, you lean back on the closed door to your shared room, and breathe.

Tonight’s events replayed in your mind, the conversation’s you shared with Axel played on a loop, his european accent engraved into the part of your brain that memorizes sounds.

You’re brought out of thought when you see your roommate saunter out of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

“And where have you been missy?” Sam muffles through a mouthful of toothpaste before continue to brush her teeth.

“I ran into Axel,” you grin walking over to your bed, slipping off the black jacket that held the sweetest scent of the young man you were just with.

“You’ve been with him this whole time?” Your best friend questions, her mouth falling open.

You nod bringing up the piece of clothing to your nose, inhaling the musky scent of Axel and his cologne.

“We talked, walked, kissed-“ you say holding the jacket tight against chest.

“You kissed?” Sam exclaims running over to you, plopping down on the bed. “How was it?”

“It was so…” You shake your head trying to grasp the wording for how you felt, how electrifying and dizzy his lips made you feel inside. “Consuming.”

The brunette girl watched you in awe as you described your night and took in every word you poured out.

“I hate that we met here,” you admit later that night as you and Sam laid in your beds, cozy in your pj’s and soft sheets.

“Why?” She asks lying on her side to look at you. You turn over, placing your arm under your head.

“We live on the other side of the world from each other, I feel like I met my match and he lives in another country,” you say glumly.

“You don’t think you guys would stay in contact?”

It would be a challenge. It’s your senior year of high school, college just around the corner, karate has always taken up most of your time, you hardly gave any attention to relationships.

“I want to say it would be hard but wouldn’t it be worth it if our connection meant that much to us?” You think out loud.

“So don’t think about it too hard,” Sam assured me. “We have a few days left here, just take things day by day, see where it goes.”

You sighed mentally agreeing with your best friend. She was right, you’re getting ahead of yourself.

The screen on your phone lit up catching your attention. Picking up the device, you noticed a text notification from an unknown number.

Unknown: Sleep well, ljubavi.

You smile seeing the nickname, knowing exactly who it was.

You: What does “ljubavi” mean?

You see the chat bubble rise above your keyboard before a message pops up.

Unknown number: Love.

Heart? Soaring. You were never one for nicknames, but this one turned you into mush.

You: I love it. Sweet dreams, Axel ❤️

You click your phone off and set it back on the nightstand before looking back up at the ceiling. Rerunning the night through your head, you fall asleep soundly.

—————————————————————————

It was a rough start to the morning. Mr. LaRusso informed your team that Terry Silver had once again weaseled his way back into your lives, this time with a different team.

The Iron Dragons, Axel's team. Silver was psychotic and a mess, it left you worried what could happen to the boy you took a liking to.

Anxiously waiting, you sat alone on one of the benches around the corner from the locker rooms, fiddling with your fingers.

Axel strode down the hallway, dressed in his green Gi, captain's headband tied on and ready to go. Why did he have to look so good?

"Hi," you greet the young man nervously as he sat right next you. The blue-green eyed boy wasted no time wrapping you in his arms, making you feel almost grounded.

Your eyes slumped shut, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, resting your chin on his left broad shoulder.

"Is everything okay?" Axel asks taking notice to your longing hold. You sighed pulling back from his warm embrace, still trying to figure out how to tell him about Silver.

"I brought you something," he says diverting your attention. Reaching into his pockets, he pulls out a braided bracelet with the Barcelona flower in the middle of it.

"Axel," you pout as he held the hand woven accessory between you two. "It’s beautiful, thank you.”

You take the gift, holding it to your heart forgetting why you asked him here in the first place.

“The woman who sold it to me said each petal represents something different, it reminded me of you,” he says tracing the four gold petals on the bracelet, a pink hue cascading across his nose and cheeks.

“Axel,” you hear a girls voice from down the hall making you both turn to its corporate.

Zara, the other Iron Dragon’s captain stood with a straight face, calling out to her teammate.

“Sensei is waiting,” she speaks calmly. You couldn’t read her, was she annoyed? Unbothered?

“I’m coming,” Axel says before standing up. Crap, you didn’t get to inform him on Silver.

“I must go,” he says facing you. “Good luck today, ljubavi.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before striding over to Zara who glanced over at you with a questioning look.

She raised an eyebrow and walked off with the other captain, leaving you to ponder your thoughts.

“How’d it go?” Demetri asked as you approached your team, scratching the back of your head.

“Um, it didn’t- I’m sorry!” You apologize quickly. “He caught me off guard with something!”

“(Y/n!)” Hawk gave you a disappointed look, Robby and Miguel sighing with the same shared expressions as everyone else.

“Okay, but even if she did tell him, what could he do?” Sam interjects, hands on her hips. At least someone was on your side.

“Sam’s right,” Kenny agreed. “Silver has a way with anyone, one person makes no difference.”

“It could if they’re the winter soldier,” Demetri retorted making you whip your head to the tall lanky boy next to you.

“We already told you to stop calling him that,” you muttered lowly to him. “You have no idea what he goes through, look at what Tory was going through this entire time.”

The team fell quiet at your words.

“Let’s just get through this next round, okay guys?” Robby spoke up breaking the silence. “We have work to do.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, making their way to where your sensei’s stood.

—————————————————————————

You fought like hell, everyone did. Robby pulled through in the end against Kwon, defeating our biggest match.

We had finally defeated Cobra Kai.

As you and Sam hugged celebrating your group win, you notice the boy you've been infatuated with this entire trip approach you.

“Congratulations,” Axel spoke as you pulled back from your friend's arms.

“Thanks,” you smile widely crossing your arms over your chest. “And congrats to you.”

“Thank you,” he nods a small closed mouth grin on his face.

“I'll leave you two alone," Sam shoots you a wink before walking off. Axel glanced around him, taking a step closer to you.

Due to your height difference, you tilted your head up at the 6 foot boy admiring his post fight look. Messy auburn hair, cheeks flushed.

"May I take you to dinner tonight?" Axel asks reaching out his hands for yours. You intertwined yours fingers together, the tingles starting to form inside.

"I'd love that," you grin trying to contain your excitement. After this big win, and getting an opportunity to spend more time with Axel, you were on cloud 9.

"Kovačević."

You both turn to see Sensei Wolf and none other than Terry Silver standing side by side, his sensei glaring at you and Silver looking smug.

You suddenly felt caught, like you were just exposed from a dirty little secret. Silver saw you holding hands with one of his students, you, a Miyagi-Do with his team captain.

Pulling your hands from his grasp, Axel turns back to you, a frown forming on his face.

"We'll talk later?" You ask bringing his eyes back up to yours.

"Yes, I will text you," he confirms. You turn on your heels to walk away when you're suddenly caught by the wrist and twirled around falling into Axel's chest.

He brings a hand up to your face, softly caressing the apple of your cheek before locking his lips with yours.

You can't help but melt into the kiss, your tongue lightly grazing against his. You're both breathless when you disconnect, you stood dizzy as he walked over to the men that called him.

Shaking your head, you stride over to your team, a million thoughts running through your head.

After changing into normal civilian clothes, you closed the locker moving to leave when Miguel walks in.

"Hey," you greet him. "I was just gonna go look for you guys."

"No worries," he assures you. Your friend stood awkwardly, his eyes saying something but his mouth relaying nothing.

"Is everything okay?" You ask noticing his stance. "How’s your mom?"

"Yeah, no she's fine, thank you," he exhales walking to where you stand shoving his hands in his pockets. "We're actually worried about you."

"About me?" You ask with a light laugh. "Why?"

Miguel sighed trying to find the words.

"Demetri thinks-"

You rolled your eyes, slinging your gym bag over your shoulder crossing your arms defensively.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you mumbled. "What now?"

"He thinks Silver might be going through Axel to get to you," your friend reveals.

No, you think immediately.

"I- I don't think he would do that," you say lowly. "Right?"

You're asking yourself at this point. Miguel stares at you with empathetic eyes, you rub a hand over your face.

"We just met Miggy," you begin to think about your interactions. "But I know this wasn't planned, this was all by chance."

"Okay," Miguel nods taking you for your word. "We have your back then."

You smile softly at the curly haired boy, before pulling him into a tight hug.

"What's this for?" He asks with a slight chuckle.

"I'm just glad you and Johnny are back, and your mom is okay," you breathed out. "It's not easy losing a parent."

He rubbed your back knowing your history of losing your father a few years back.

That same night Miguel left, you went to the beach because your dad and you loved spending time there. He would teach you the kata you know now, and practice your breathing work with you there.

"Thank you, (Y/n)," Miguel whispered. You both pulled back, and silently went back to your team together.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Why am I so nervous? I've already kissed the guy!" You freaked brushing your comb through your curls.

"Kissed, made out," Sam shrugged flipping through the channels of your tv.

"Made out?" Miguel speaks up sitting up from his spot on Sam's bed. "I was only gone for like a day."

"A lot can happen in 24 hours," you wince. Setting the comb down, you stare at yourself in the mirror rechecking your appearance.

You wore a red romper that held an array of tiny colorful flowers with a pair of raffia flats to complement the style.

"You look gorgeous," Sam came up from behind you, her face lingering next to yours in the mirror. She ran her fingers through your curls giving them a more tousled look that she knew you favored.

"Thanks, Sam," you say as she finished fixing your hair.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom real quick," she says to you and Miguel. She stepped aside and went into the bathroom.

"Where are you guys gonna go?" Miguel asks propping his arm behind his head.

"One of the local restaurants at the square," you respond spraying some of your Valentino perfume into the crevices of your neck.

Before Miguel could respond, there's a knock at the door. It was Axel.

"Be safe," your best friend's boyfriend wishes you as you grabbed your purse. You roll your eyes playfully, swinging the door open to reveal your company.

"Wow," Axel breathed out. "You look beautiful."

Your nerves vanished, all the worrying you held earlier diminished at his words.

"Thank you," you blushed. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Axel wore a grey henley shirt with a black bomber jacket and dark blue jeans, he looked absolutely handsome. And he was all yours.

He blushes at your compliment, his eyes lingering down your face before they shifted behind you making him frown.

"Who is that?" Axel asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Oh," you open the door a little wider. "This is Miguel, my teammate and Sam's boyfriend."

"Sup man," Miguel gives him a small wave before he goes back to watching tv.

"You ready to go?" You ask turning back to Axel with a soft smile. His eye tear away from the comfortable boy in bed and focuses on you.

"Yes," he responds a little more relaxed. You shut the door behind you, walking hand in hand with your date to the elevator.

As you both stood in the moving transportation, Axel lifts your hand noticing the gift he had given you earlier wrapped around your wrist making him smile.

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your it making you giggle.

---------------------------------------------------------

It was a perfect night. The food was amazing, the art was captivating, and the company made it ten times better.

"So Mr. Europe, what do you think of Barcelona?" You ask as you and Axel strolled down the streets of the city. You stood on his right side, arm looped with his.

"Reminds me of Koh Samui," he says referring to a part of Thailand.

"You've been to Thailand?" You gasped. "That's so cool."

"And Japan," he adds. "China, Malaysia, India, every country in Europe."

You shake your head, stunned at his list of traveling destinations.

"That's amazing," you exhale nuzzling further into Axel's side.

"You ever been to Europe?" He inquires.

"No," you admit sadly. "Sam has taken me to Disney World a few times when we were kids, but other than California, I haven't been anywhere."

He nods, taking in your words.

"I really like it here though, being able to come here has been eye opening. Makes me want to see the rest of the world," you say thoughtfully.

"What do you hope to see while here?" Axel asks as you turn a corner into an alley way covered from wall to wall of art, lights hanging above you.

"Everything," you say untangling yourself from his hold to look closer at a mural on the wall. "Las Ramblas, Cascada Monumental, Park Güel!"

Axel stood behind you watching as you admired the painting, a small smile on his face as he listened to you ramble about your wants and wishes.

"And end with fight for the world tournament of karate?" He asks with a slight chuckle coming up to your side.

''And maybe something else," you tease him glancing up into his dark blue orbs. He reached towards you, moving the strands of hair away from your face so he could see your eyes.

"Can we take a picture together?" You ask almost shyly. You wanted to memorize this trip through and through, and you especially wanted proof that you had in fact met someone across the world that you very much liked.

"Anything for you," he says making your heart flutter. Axel stood behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, gently taking your phone from your hand to take your picture.

You leaned back into his chest, smiling with complete bliss as he snapped a few pictures, your face feeling warm when he takes a few of him kissing your cheek then your lips.

But of course, there's an interruption when a back door is slammed open and out fall a few members of Cobra Kai.

"Ohh, what do we have here?" Kwon spoke almost slurring his words letting you know he had been drinking. You rolled your eyes as he and his teammates stood around you.

"How cute," your opponent says observing the situation in front of him. "Little rival team play time, huh?"

Him and his friends laughed making you huff in annoyance. Axel stood still a look of anger casting across his face.

"Just ignore them," you say making the tall boy look down at you. He silently agreed, both of you working to move past them.

Two members of the Cobra Kai gang closed in on you, not allowing you to pass through.

"Say the magic words," Kwon cockily dared you. Your blood began to boil at his arrogance, it was a perfect night and they were ruining it.

"Move aside," you state slowly. Kwon looked Axel then back at you, faking a shock.

"Wrong," he says pissing you off further.

"Get the hell out of our way and leave us alone," you seethed not being able to control your anger for much longer.

With a fake innocent look on his face, Kwon bends down to your level resting his hands on his knees before stating, "only if you say 'please."

As Kwon sent you a smug smile, you were ready to deck him in the face when another member suddenly attacked Axel.

"Hit me, come on," Kwon taunts you, tapping his chin for you to hit him.

As Axel threw his teammate into Kwon, you followed your instincts to turn and kick the other member that threatened to attack you.

When he landed on the floor, you turned back to Kwon who stood toe to toe with Axel, instigating a fight.

"Come on, I'll take you both, let's go," he challenged us. Suddenly the sounds of sirens were heard in the distance bringing you back to reality.

"We need to go," you say hurriedly stepping in front of your date gently pushing him back.

"I'll see you on the mat," Kwon promises.

"Come on," you beg grabbing Axel's hand tugging him with you. He finally listens to you, and you both run in the opposite direction of Cobra Kai.

When you make it to the beach, you halt to a stop, bending over to catch your breath.

"That," you inhale. "Was Cobra Kai. Actual pricks."

You had explained the entire back story during dinner to what brought your team to the Sekai Taikai, not leaving a single detail out.

"I can see why," Axel pants. Tiredly, you plop down onto the sand, the tall boy mimicking your actions.

"Nice round kick," he says a big grin on his face making you laugh.

"Nice counter strike," you throw back at him a small grin on your face. He chuckles watching as you turned to face him, his eyes becoming hazy.

Within the heat of the moment, you lean forward smashing your lips together, lips moving in sync with one another. You moved to straddle his waist, his hands going straight to your waist.

A fire ignited in the pit of your stomach as you felt him open his mouth allowing you to explore it with your tongue.

Gently pushing him on his back, your lips never disconnected, his grabby hands wondering over your backside.

Axel moaned as you lightly bit his lower lip as you tore apart for air.

"Best date ever," you whispered looking through half lidded eyes.

"Definitely," he agreed with a small smirk before tangling his long fingers through your hair pulling your head back down to continue what you had started.

—————————————————————————

part 3

Tag List: @karmaswitch

(a/n: um omg thank you for requesting a part two?? i’ve never done this before this is so exciting, and lmk if y’all wanna be added to the tag list!! i’ve been a wattpad girlie since i was 12 and was so intimidated to write for tumblr but it is so nice over here lol. incase you’re a fan of Teen Wolf i do have a book on wattpad for Liam Dunbar, my user is @ district12girlonfire that has been my pride and joyyyy.

anyway, part 3?)

[rootedinrevisions]

Chasing Sunsets

Summary: After a particularly rough day of chasing storms, Tyler notices how shaken you are. While the rest of the team heads to the hotel, he takes you for a quiet drive to find a quiet place to watch the sunset together.

Warnings: Mention of past trauma related to storms. Destruction due to storms.

Word Count: 2,825

Author's Note: Kaley

Prompt: Watching the Sunset / Sunrise

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

The storm had finally moved on, but it didn’t feel like a victory. The air still smelled of ozone and broken branches, and the last slant of daylight filtered through a haze of dust kicked up by the winds. It settled over the small town like a shroud. Power lines drooped low across the road, and a mangled trampoline sat in the middle of what used to be someone’s yard. The team moved quietly, voices low as they packed the vans and trucks with gear, the usual post chase adrenaline curdled into something heavier.

You tightened the last strap on a case of sensors, the nylon digging into your palm harder than it should’ve. Your hand shook slightly as you pulled it back. Not from exertion. From something else.

A little boy had waved at you earlier through the cracked window of a storm cellar, mud streaked across his cheeks. His mother had been trying not to cry. The roof of their home was gone.

You shook your head and blinked, trying to reset. But the weight of the day was a pressure system all its own—low and thick and impossible to push through.

Across the gravel lot, Tyler slammed the tailgate of his truck shut, then turned. His eyes caught yours for a second. Just a flicker. But it was enough.

He didn’t smile. Just studied you for a beat, his brow furrowed under the cap pulled low over his sage green eyes. You looked away first.

“Alright, that’s a wrap,” Dani called out, breaking the silence. “Hotel’s twenty minutes out. We’ll see you all there.”

Everyone slowly began climbing into their vehicles. You hesitated at the passenger side of Boone’s old van, hand hovering near the handle. The weight of the day began settling in on you.

“Hey.”

You turned to see Tyler standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his worn jeans.

“You alright?” He asked.

You nodded almost automatically. Then you shook your head.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you said it.

His gaze didn’t waver. “It was a rough one.”

You nodded again. There wasn’t much else you could say. You and him both knew it was a hard day.

Then he jerked his chin toward his truck. “Let’s get out of here?”

You blinked. “Where?”

He gave the smallest hint of a smile, just the corner of his mouth lifting. “Just a drive.”

For a second, you hesitated. The others were already pulling out of the lot, engines growling softly in the background. The idea of more miles on the road should’ve sounded exhausting. But somehow with Tyler, it didn’t. Maybe it was the steadiness in his voice. Or the promise of some quiet after a very loud day.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

Tyler opened the passenger door for you, then rounded the truck to the driver’s side. As you climbed in, the worn leather seat creaked beneath you. It was warm from sitting under the Oklahoma sun for the past several hours. The faint scent of dust mixed with Tyler’s cologne lingered in the cab.

Tyler turned the key, the engine rumbling to life, before he turned and headed for the highway. The road stretched out ahead, long and mostly empty. The sun was dipping low, casting everything in warm orange light.

Tyler’s truck rumbled steadily along the two lane highway, the familiar hum of the tires a constant rhythm. The radio was on, but barely. Some old country tune playing through the speakers as background noise. 

Neither of you had spoken since leaving the gravel lot. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Just heavy.

You leaned against the window watching the landscape roll by. Soft hills, scattered barns, and silhouettes of trees.

Tyler drummed his thumb once on the steering wheel.

“You’re quiet,” he said. 

It wasn’t accusing. Just observant.

You gave a faint shrug without turning to look at him. “Just tired.”

He nodded like he was accepting your answer, but not completely believing you. Tyler glanced over at you.

“You okay?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your first instinct was to give the easy out. I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day. But something about the look on the little kid’s face from earlier, the way his mother had wrapped him in her arms while trying not to cry herself, had settled in your chest.

You opened your mouth, but then closed it again. Tyler didn’t push. Just kept driving. A minute passed. Then another.

Finally you exhaled. “It got me today.”

Tyler’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but you felt his attention shift to you.

You continued, your voice quiet. “I’ve seen damage before. Hell we’ve watched houses go airborne and entire fields get flattened. But today…I don’t know. That family. That little boy. He waved at me like we had done something amazing.” You blinked, staring out the windshield as you continued to try to organize your thoughts. “But their roof is gone. Their home is destroyed. Half their stuff is gone. And all we could do was hand them some food and water and move on. And we’ll go to the next town or the next chase. But them…they’re going to be affected by this for months. Maybe longer.”

You could feel a rawness creeping into your throat that you didn’t like. You felt too vulnerable. Too out in the open.

“I just…” you rubbed your hands together in your lap. “It made me feel…useless.”

Tyler stayed quiet for a moment, letting the words settle.

“You’re not.”

You turned slightly toward him.

“You’re not useless,” he said again. “We help people. We give them a little bit of hope when it’s really hard to find it. That’s everything when you’ve just lost everything.”

You swallowed. “I know. But it didn’t feel like enough today.”

He gave you a small nod, almost like he knew what you meant.

You looked down at your hands. “It reminded me of my dad, actually. When I was a kid, our house got hit. Just the edge of it, but it ripped through the garage like it was paper. I remember sitting in the hallway with my mom and thinking the whole world was ending. I remember the sound.”

Tyler glanced over. “The sound gets to you, doesn’t it?”

You nodded. “Every time.”

Another quiet beat passed between you.

“I didn’t know that,” he said gently.

“I don’t talk about it much.”

“You don’t have to.” He paused, then added, “But you can. With me.”

You looked over at him. His eyes were still on the road, his posture calm. Not expecting anything. Just offering.

“It’s just me,” he added. “You know that, right?”

There was something grounding in the way he said it. Not dramatic or invasive. Just solid and steady.

Your shoulders loosened slightly. The tension in your jaw you hadn’t noticed faded just a bit.

“I know,” you said softly. “It’s just… easier to push through it most of the time.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Until it isn’t.”

You let out a quiet, almost laugh through your nose. Tyler reached over briefly, his fingers brushing your hand where it rested on your knee. It wasn’t much. Just a second of warmth. But it was enough.

“You don’t have to carry all of that alone, you know.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked out the windshield again as the first stars began to peek through the fading light.

Then, finally. “Thanks.”

You sat there in the passenger seat for a beat, watching the road roll out in front of you. Tyler’s fingers were still resting gently against yours. Before you could overthink it, you turned your hand over, and slid your fingers beneath his. Tyler didn’t flinch or even say anything. He just shifted his hand slightly, adjusting so his fingers laced through yours. His thumb brushed once along the side of your hand.

You stared out the windshield at the horizon, heart thudding softly in your chest. It wasn’t from nervousness, but the recognition that this felt like something more.

There had always been something there between you and Tyler. A glance that lasted just a few seconds too long. A shared laugh together when no one else was listening. The way he always insisted you were in his truck with him when you guys were chasing more severe storms.

But neither of you had ever crossed that invisible line into something more.

You tightened your grip on Tyler’s hand slightly, not quite ready to let go. Tyle glanced over at you, and the corners of his mouth curved into the slightest smirk.

You leaned your head back against the seat, hand still in his, and let yourself just breathe.

Half an hour later Tyler turned off the main road onto a gravel path barely visible in the fading light. The truck dipped and bumped along the uneven stretch, tall grass brushing the sides like they were parting just for you. You let go of his hand long enough to brace against the dash as he eased the truck up a gentle slope.

At the top, he cut the engine. The sudden silence wrapped around you like a blanket. No tires on gravel. No radio. No weather reports crackling through a comms unit. Just wind in the grass and the low hum of cicadas waking up for the night.

You pushed open the door and stepped out. As you did, you felt the warm air on your skin, touched with the faintest chill as the sun sank lower. Tyler came around the front of the truck, his boots crunching softly over the gravel.

The view was as perfect as you remembered, an open stretch of rolling land that seemed to go on forever, kissed now by streaks of gold, pink, and lavender. A hawk circled lazily in the distance. The whole sky looked like it had been painted just for this.

Tyler leaned back against the front of the truck, arms folded loosely, gaze turned toward the horizon.

You joined him, close but not quite touching.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet wasn’t awkward. It was reverent.

“I missed this,” you murmured.

“Me too.”

You looked over at him, and he met your eyes for a second before glancing back at the sky. There was something softer in his features now. Something calmer. The kind of look someone wears when they finally let themselves slow down.

“I feel like we haven’t had a second to breathe this season,” you said.

“We haven’t,” he agreed. “Feels like we’ve just been chasing, nonstop. One storm ends, another one’s forming.”

You drew in a breath, then let it go slowly. “I used to think I could outrun it all, you know? The memories. The fear. The pressure. If I just kept moving, kept tracking, I wouldn’t have to sit with it.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “And now?”

You shrugged. “Now I think maybe...stillness isn’t so bad.”

He turned his head toward you. “Especially if you’re not in it alone.”

You smiled at that just a little. “You always know how to say the right thing.”

“Nah,” he said, his voice low and warm. “I just say what I mean.”

You let that settle between you. Then you stepped a little closer. Close enough for your arm to brush his. He didn’t move away. Instead, he reached down, slow and easy, and took your hand again.

You watched the last sliver of sun dip below the horizon, the colors bleeding richer now, more vibrant in their final moments. Something about it felt symbolic. The end of a day. The promise of the start of something new that would come soon.

The wind shifted, gentle and warm, rustling through the grass like it was trying to carry the weight of those words somewhere safe.

You looked back out at the horizon. “I’m glad we came here tonight.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

The stars were starting to show now, tiny pinpricks against the deepening blue. You stayed there beside him, your hands still joined, the sky folding into night around you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe the storm in your mind had finally passed.

The sky deepened around you, stars flickering in slow waves, the last gold of the sun fading from the clouds like a whispered goodbye. Somewhere below the ridge, crickets chirped, steady and rhythmic, like they knew the two of you needed a soundtrack for silence.

Tyler’s thumb moved absently along your knuckles, slow and comforting, like it had a rhythm all its own. He hadn’t let go of your hand, and you hadn’t wanted him to. Not even for a second.

He exhaled beside you, long and quiet. Not frustrated. Not rushed. Just tired.

“You ever feel like you blinked and missed half of it?” he asked suddenly, eyes still trained on the horizon.

You glanced up at him. “Half of what?”

“This season,” he said. “This whole damn year, honestly.”

You let the question hang there for a moment, watching him. He looked older than usual in this light. Not in a worn out way, just…a little more human. The kind of tired that came from running too hard, for too long.

“You’ve been in motion for months,” you said softly.

He nodded. “Haven’t really stopped since March.”

“You never do.”

He gave a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I used to tell myself I liked the pace. That the chasing was what kept me grounded. But lately...” He trailed off, thumb stalling against your hand. “Lately it’s just felt like running.”

You stayed quiet, giving him room.

“I don’t know,” he said after a beat. “It’s like every time I thought about slowing down, something else came up. Another rotation. Another county warning. Another line forming just west of here. I kept thinking if I could just get through one more storm, I’d breathe.”

You leaned your shoulder gently into his, arm brushing along his in the process. Slowly, without thinking too hard about it, you let go of his hand just long enough to wrap your arm around his. Your fingers hooked into the crook of his elbow, your head coming to rest lightly against his shoulder.

He stilled for a second at the contact. Then he softened.

And something in your chest did too.

“You ever think about stopping?” you asked. “About stepping away from all of it?”

He was quiet for a long moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think I could quit it entirely. There’s something about it. The sky. The chase. The science. That still gets in my blood. But yeah. I think about slowing down.”

You nodded against him.

“Not being the guy everyone calls first. Not having to lead every convoy or talk to every local station. Just... chasing for me. When I want. With people I actually want to be around.”

Your lips quirked slightly. “You saying we don’t make good company?”

He looked down at you, and smiled. “Nah. You’re the exception.”

You looked up at him. “Me?”

He gave a soft shrug. “You’ve always been the exception for me.”

The words hit harder than you expected, not because they were loud or over the top. But because they were true, and you could tell. Tyler never said things unless he meant them. He didn’t dress up his honesty. He just gave it. Plain. Steady. Real.

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything at all. You just stayed where you were, leaning against him, holding onto his arm like it was the only thing anchoring you to the ground.

He turned his face slightly toward yours. His voice was softer now, rough around the edges.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

Your throat tightened. “Me too.”

A breeze stirred across the lookout, cool against your skin but not enough to break the warmth wrapped around the moment.

“I think I forgot how good this feels,” you said. “Just being still. Not thinking about what’s coming next.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”

He looked out over the fields again, the stars multiplying like sparks scattered across navy velvet.

You let the quiet come back for a while. Not the heavy kind. The good kind. The kind that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill the silence to feel close.

Eventually, Tyler leaned his head slightly toward yours, just enough that you could feel the faint brush of his hair against your temple. You didn’t move away.

You didn’t want to.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, you weren’t thinking about funnel clouds or pressure systems or evacuation zones.

You were just here.

With him.

In the calm.

[keferon]

im glad that my first submission was enjoyed. this was meant to be a part of it, but i struggle a lot more writing first aids pov than vortexs. its still not perfect, but i figure i should let it out into the wild before it drives me crazy.

some further questions: what exactly are the quintessons made of? are they techno-organic? entirely mechanical? or like...synthetic materials mimicking biology? and whats up with the program that produced vortex? did it shut down? or is it still operating (maybe under shockwave now?) did jazz go through it?

______________________________________________________________

His head is killing him. 

Felix comes to in the unyielding dark of Vortex’s cockpit, squinting uselessly before giving up, letting his head lean back against the seatrest. It pulses in time with his heartbeat- elevated- sending waves of fresh misery through him. But he’s alive, Vortex let him live, and the realization pulls a miserable laugh from him. 

Vortex saved him.

Vortex saved him.

Vortex saved him.

From Pharma.

The thought is like ice water poured over his head washing away any lingering exhaustion. Pharma. What the hell was going on? Why did he-? Had the irritable CMO finally lost it? Or was there something else going on? 

Felix’s stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of Pharma obeying another- who would order this? Who could order this? To what end? How had none of the other medical staff noticed? Or did they notice and not care?

His stomach lurches again, and Felix fumbles at the restraints- looser, now- and finally manages to hit the quick release clasp, practically flopping forward before he catches himself, swaying pathetically in the dark- pulling his helmet off is a welcome relief, the cooler air of the cabin circulating around his abused head. All of his muscles are sore, each joint something just a little firmer than liquid. The only light comes from the running lights, blinking on like soft red stars against Vortex’s night, and Felix lets himself stare blankly at a particularly interesting assortment of them, trying to will the nausea to subside. 

It does not. In fact, it strikes back with a vengeance, and Felix presses a fist to his mouth to stifle his suffering. It works, somewhat, his gorge settling slightly. He needs to get out of here, out of the blood-and-bleach scented warmth of Vortex before he overstays his welcome. Maybe he already has, and Vortex is just biding his time before he kills Felix gruesomely. Right on cue, he can feel the familiar faint prickling sensation of cameras and infrared sensors being trained on him, the behemoth paying its quarry its undivided attention. 

“Vortex,” he says, or more accurately, tries to say. All that comes out of his mouth is a pathetic little groan. His stomach is churning again now. 

“Vortex.” he tries again while fumbling for the canopy hatch- God, movement was a bad idea- and while it still fails the benchmark of being a word, it at least sounds like Vortex’s name. 

His gorge rises again, and Felix can’t stop the faint whimper as he runs his hands over the instrument panel, looking for the canopy release lever. He is not going to throw up inside Vortex, even if worse things have been thoroughly ground into the panels and seams of the mech. Felix still has some pride. And he doesn’t need to risk Vortex’s wrath any more than he has. 

“Vortex.” and now it sounds like a proper name. Felix can feel the hum of Vortex’s machinery and wiring change underneath his palms. His head spins, and the tug of exhaustion has returned, borne on the back of the enveloping warmth of the cockpit.

His stomach flips again.

“Vortex, open the cockpit.” Felix tries, giving up on fumbling in the dark for the lever. “Please,” he amends, because apparently his manners have left with his health. 

The darkness takes on a vaguely threatening feeling. Vortex must have spent all his goodwill on not killing Felix earlier. 

“Vortex, please-” he gags, pressing his fist to his mouth again, “I- I’m going to-”

He gags again, and this time- thank you, Vortex!- the canopy lifts, barely a few feet before coming to a stubborn stop, the dull halogen glow of the docking bay lights breaching the cockpit. The opaque filter over the canopy bleeds away, returning the familiar blood-red hue to Vortex’s visor. Felix barely makes it to the edge of the cockpit before throwing up, practically lying out over the instrument panel as his arms fail him. It spatters, worryingly dark against the burnished metal of the catwalk. He lies there bonelessly, his throat burning and head spinning. How the hell had his life ended up like this? Cosmic punishment for stealing organs still? Felix had thought getting demoted to nurse and resident Vortex-cleaner punishment enough.

He eventually rolls off of his stomach and carefully (gracelessly) slithers back to sit on the floor of the cockpit, head resting against the instrument panel, staring up at the cockpit ceiling. The dark plating is smooth, almost seamlessly jointed together, only interrupted by the explosion of wires and cording comprising the neural connectors. It’s…almost peaceful, in the cockpit, with only the purr of Vortex’s systems humming through the panel that Felix is resting his head on interrupting the silence. The halogens filter through the red polycarbonate of Vortex’s canopy, staining the light bloody ruby. 

His mouth is dry. Horrifically dry. He needs water. Getting water means leaving the relative safety of Vortex’s cockpit. 

Water can wait. 

Pharma might still be out there, lurking. 

His head swims, stomach vaguely threatening to rebel again. Felix turns his head, pressing his cheek to the warm metal of the instrument panel. It feels pretty nice. This particular piece of Vortex only smells like metal and circuitry, not blood. If he closes his eyes, it’s just pleasantly dark enough to settle into a half-sleep slumped against Vortex’s plating. His skin prickles faintly.

The pang! Of a piece of plating hitting the floor wakes him from his doze, sending fresh gouges of pain rippling across his skull. Felix blinks, headache settling squarely behind his right eye socket and encompassing his entire skull. Where had that come from? Was something wrong with Vortex? Or more likely, had Vortex tired of his presence and was preparing to finally kill him?

The plating sits on the flooring, looking as deceptively innocent as any non-sentient sheet of metal can. Felix huddles back further against the instrument paneling. The canopy was shut sometime while he was drowsing, completely locking him in. Light ripples across the cockpit, and Felix slowly twists around to squint up at the display.

[OPEN THE BAG]

Bag. Open the bag. What bag? 

Felix casts helplessly around the cockpit space, searching- there! In a shadowed cubby against the far wall, which- if he remembers from the pilot’s manual correctly- should not be there. Felix attempts to stand, legs wobbling, before giving up and crawling over to the alcove. His skin prickles again, and he refuses to feel shame underneath Vortex’s mechanical gaze. It’s because of the stupid medical boot. Not him. He pushes the loose plating aside and is rewarded with a screech of metal-on-metal that sends his head throbbing again. Felix sags against the wall with a groan before throwing what’s left of his caution to the wind, sticking his hand into the alcove and dragging the bag out. Vortex does not take his hand off. Not even a finger gets scraped on the exposed metal. There’s not a hint of violence from the mech, and Felix sneaks a glance at one of the cockpit cams. It’s trained directly on him, lens shadowed in the claret gloom. He gives it a weak smile. 

The bag is the heavy black polyester duffle ubiquitous to military installations, and it takes a bit of fumbling for Felix to find the zipper and tug it open. Inside is a fresh pilot’s uniform-the Nomex base-side kind, a small toolkit, a radio, a number of MREs and-

Water. 

Felix grabs the first bottle, twisting the cap off and chugging the water down. It’s warm, with a strange plasticky aftertaste. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. He drinks another just as fast, water settling heavy in his stomach and washing the taste of bile from his mouth before leaning back against the wall again, the steady rumble of machinery behind it a small comfort. The ex-medic checks the cockpit display, but it remains a steady blank. Another check to the camera confirms that it’s still trained directly at him. Felix gives it a second awkward smile. 

“Vortex- I ah…I- thanks.” He finishes lamely, rubbing his face. His skin is disgustingly oily to the touch. What do you say to a thousand-ton killing machine when it doesn’t kill you? “For-”

Not killing me. 

Saving me from the evil clutches of Pharma.

Giving me water. 

“For everything. Yeah.” Felix cringes at the awkward words. He’s never been particularly well-spoken, but this is just embarrassing. He almost wishes that Vortex would try to kill him again, just for the possibility to escape this torture. 

They sit in silence, Felix’s gaze focused on the floor, skin prickling. His stomach clenches, water threatening to make a reappearance. 

He should’ve known better to drink anything Vortex offered. He slowly stands, one hand against the wall of the cockpit for stability before slowly crossing to the front. “...can you please open the cockpit?” He hazards, one hand pressed to his openly rebelling stomach. 

There’s the distinctive sound of the locking pins dropping. Felix winces as his stomach clenches again.

“Please-” he retches, throat burning as bile forces itself back up his worn esophagus. “I-I don’t wanna-”

The canopy lifts with an almost petulant hiss of the hydraulics, only a few feet again. And again, Felix barely gets his head out of the cockpit before throwing up. The water burns as it leaves, and Felix spits a few times after it to clear his mouth, hand pressed to his cramping stomach. His head pounds under the unrelenting light, and he slips back into the welcoming dim dark of the cockpit. For the second time that day, Felix finds himself sitting on the floor of Vortex’s cockpit, mouth sour and throat stinging, staring up at the ruby wash of light across the ceiling. The canopy hisses shut, locking pins ch-chunk-ing into place with finality. The red light ripples, disturbed, and Felix can’t stop the weary sigh as he lifts his head to read Vortex’s words.

[FELIX-BABY, YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SWALLOW]

Felix feels his cheeks heat, and he looks away from the chiding display. He’s not sure which is worse, being called baby by Vortex or the joke. 

“I threw up. That's different.” He mutters, running hands through his sweat-stiff hair. 

The ventilation stutters, on-off-on-off, like human laughter. His cheeks heat more. 

[DRINK MORE. SLOWLY]

Felix gawks at the screen. He must have brain damage- there’s no way Vortex is giving him medical advice. Advice in general, actually. This must be a trick of some kind. 

But he is thirsty. 

He shuffles back over to the bag.

Opens another water bottle. 

He drinks slowly, stealing small sips each time until the bottle is mostly empty and his stomach settles into a kind of low-grade simmer. His headache eases some. Immediate crisis resolved, Felix’s attention wanders back to the medical boot. Why does he have it? His leg doesn’t hurt- he wracks his brain, did he injure it sometime before Pharma got to him? Or did he put up enough of a fight to injure himself? Was that why he was drugged? 

His memories are not forthcoming, but it makes sense. Many sedatives interfere with the formation of new memories; if it was put on at around the same time as the IV, his brain might not have had the ability to recall why.

It leaves only one course of action. 

Felix fumbles with the buckles and straps- thank god Pharma only used one of the temporary, removable braces rather than something more permanent like plaster or fiberglass. Otherwise he’d have to stick his leg into Vortex’s machinery to get it off. He pulls the boot off with little difficulty, studying his leg. A simple check; wiggling his toes, rolling his ankle, flexing his knee. No pain. Not even any cuts or bruises cross his flesh. Which means…Felix pokes around the wads of cotton padding pulled from the brace. There!

A small metal device, no bigger than a coin, nestled into a fold of gauze. A tracker? Or some kind of…recording device? He holds it up for inspection, skin crawling as Vortex’s cameras and scanners snap to it. A surge of malevolence fills the cabin, Vortex’s wrath roused by the discovery. Plating rattles, the low purr of the mech’s engine climbing to a dull roar. Felix draws his legs to his chest, curling against the bag for its flimsy protection, device clutched tight in his fist. Another panel pops loose, clatter of metal half-drowned by the increasing volume of machinery grinding. 

[DESTROY IT]

Felix does not need to be told twice, scrambling to toss the cursed thing into Vortex’s grinding gears. It’s shredded immediately, fragile circuits ripped apart and ground to silicone dust in the face of his fury. There’s a high pitched whine- Vortex’s weapons systems charging, oh god- before it all subsides. The silence is profound against the pain in Felix’s head, the mech’s engines and drives settling down towards their previous quiet purr like nothing happened. The plating stills, returning to inert, the gap where Vortex had offered Felix a place to throw the thing the only break in the metal.

The medic carefully replaces the panel covering the humming machinery, plating hooking into place smoothly, seamless. No response from Vortex. He casts a glance at the cockpit canopy, but there’s no chance that Vortex will let him out, and he’s not about to ask after all of… that. There’s only one thing for him to do, other than try to sleep- which is not happening.

He goes through the bag again, trying to regain some semblance of calm, hands clammy. The toolkit is compact, but it has a surprising number of tools, most of which Felix has no idea how to use. He's a medic by training, not a mechanic. He carefully checks each one anyways to occupy himself, pristine metal warm and smooth against his fingers. Next are the MREs. Still sealed and within expiry date, no obvious signs of tampering. He puts them back in the bag. But the real prize is the pilot’s uniform, fabric stiff with disuse and heavy across the shoulders and chest with patches. Felix pulls the suit out of the bag and half unfolds it over his lap, running his fingers over the patches crowding the suit. Different patches for different bases, various military campaigns from all over the world, rank, even for different specialties. The owner had been cross-trained as a helicopter mechanic.

He lingers over the name, petting over the coarse thread picking out VORTEX over the right breast of the suit. Felix toys with the velcro; his own pilot patches haven’t come in yet…

It’s a dirty thought, stealing a dead man’s name tape for his own use, especially if the dead man in question is watching and prone to fly into fits of rage. Felix might’ve sunk low to reach this point in his life, but Pharma must’ve really dosed him up with something if he’s this out of his mind to even consider such a thing. He shouldn’t even want Vortex’s name emblazoned over his shoulder. But the thought lingers the longer he stares at the patches. 

Pilots typically wear number badges to denote their mech anyway, what’s the harm in wearing a name instead? Vortex is already known better by his name than by his serial number. It’s fitting for his pilot to wear his name too. Vortex seems like the kind who’d like that sort of thing.

Felix hastily folds the suit up, stuffing it back into the bag before temptation can overwhelm sense. His unfortunate predilections aside, stealing from the dead is a violation of numerous ethical codes, and he’s pretty sure Vortex would kill him for even considering taking something so personal from the remainder of his belongings. Even if the mech has been almost…tame towards him so far. Not a pinch or a threat. Even some banter. No, this must be the calm before the metaphorical vortex sucks him in and kills him. 

He casts a reluctant glance towards the exit again, skin prickling. He’s just going to have to wait this one out. It’s not a terrible concept, waiting here in the dark and warm for Vortex to make his mind up. It’s not like Pharma can find his way in. Whatever happens, it’s at least a break to figure out what he does next. Whatever that is.

ANON. ANON LET ME PICK YOU UP AND HOLD YOU FOREVER. ANON I DONT KNOW YOUR NAME BUT I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND FKFKGKMRJFKFNDJKSK

Haha mmm. I'm fine I'm okay I'm normal

Yeah so about Quintessons. I imagine they can be all kind of creatures. Organic, techno organic, straight up just techno. Tf:one, Cyberverse, straight up Pacific rim Kaijus. All kinds of monsters haha

Also, Vortex was the part of the first batch of pilots for Mecha program. The technology was very new and VERY underdeveloped so...yeah, Vortex was part time pilot and part time lab rat.

The whole process of making someone into a pilot was a lot more dangerous and painful back then because no one really knew what they were doing. But after some time it became safer and less painful. So when Jazz joined he didn't suffer as much as Vortex. And when later Blurr joined he didn't suffer as much as Jazz.

(You didn't ask but. I like to think that Vortex knows quite a lot about all kinds of side effects of neural connection. Also about side effects of physical procedures and all kinds of weird fucked up experiments. Just because. You know. He went through it all. A lot of times.)

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[fellominaarcher]

then you're the best part — Giselle x fem!reader

↳ Fic type: oneshot

↳ Content warning: FLOOOFYY & healthy relationship & maybe a little boring

↳ main m.list | æspa m.list

Beep.

The front door chimed softly—someone had just keyed in the passcode. A click followed, the door unlocking, then the motion sensor light flickered on as someone stepped inside.

Pink-haired and exhausted, Aeri Uchinaga toed off her sleek YSL boots at the threshold, sighing as she sat for a moment on the step just past the genkan. The weight of the day—rehearsals, meetings has finally slid off her shoulders. What time was it now? She checked briefly. 1:03 AM. Too late to be out, but too early to sleep on an anniversary night like this.

Boots off, bag down, she stood and stretched, already hearing faint sounds from the kitchen—pots clinking, water running, familiar domestic noises that belonged to her girl. Y/N was still up, naturally. She was always the night owl of the two, often awake until 3 or 4 AM, either cooking, dancing in socks, or binge-watching some horror show she’d rewatch a million times.

"I'm hooomeee," Aeri called out in a sing-song voice as she passed the kitchen, waving lazily even if she wasn’t sure Y/N saw it. She headed straight to their shared bedroom.

From the kitchen, Y/N’s voice rang out, playful and warm, “Okay-ieee, go shower, lady!”

Aeri chuckled under her breath, already feeling lighter.

Outside, a gentle midnight rain fell. Not heavy. Just that calm, rhythmic kind—the kind of rain that makes you want to curl up in bed or slow-dance barefoot in the living room.

Soft footsteps pattered against the wood flooring behind her. Then, two excited barks.

Aeri smiled without turning around. “Cooper!” she cooed, kneeling just in time for her beloved Sheepadoodle to crash into her arms, tail wagging so hard it thumped against the walls.

“Someone missed me,” she giggled, letting the dog lick her cheeks and chin as she scratched behind his ears. “You’re such a good boy, huh?”

She puckered her lips for a kissy face, and Cooper gave her a dramatic, wet lick right across the mouth. Laughing, she stood up again. “I gotta shower, bub. It’s way past your bedtime.” She tried to sound motherly to a dog.

She puckered her lips for a kissy face, and Cooper gave her a dramatic, wet lick right across the mouth. Laughing, she stood up again. “I gotta shower, bub. It’s way past your bedtime.”

She gave him one last pat before grabbing a towel from the closet, already peeling off her shirt and jeans as she stepped further into the bedroom. Bare-shouldered and flushed from the heat inside the apartment, she padded into the bathroom after removing her makeup in a quick routine. The mirror fogged up fast as she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water hit her tired muscles and wash the day away.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Y/N was focused. Her hands moved with practiced ease, slicing tofu into perfect cubes, then pushing them gently into a bubbling pot of kimchi jjigae. The soup was thick and red, made with love—aged kimchi, green onions, tofu, thinly sliced pork belly, and a dash of sesame oil for extra depth.

The rice cooker dinged in the background. Hot steam poured out as she opened it, scooping fluffy white rice into matching ceramic bowls. Everything was almost ready.

This wasn’t just a late-night craving. It was their third anniversary. Three years of being together—through comebacks, rumors, camera flashes, and stolen vacations. And though Aeri had been booked all day and couldn’t make it home until now, Y/N didn’t mind. She never did, not when it came to Aeri.

Sipping her Coke from a wine glass just for the vibe, Y/N started plating the side dishes with care.

And then enter Cooper.

The Sheepadoodle padded into the kitchen like he owned it, blinking up at her with that innocent, curious look he always wore. Y/N paused, mid-reach for a spoon, and blinked back. It was a full-on staring contest.

And just like that—like a light bulb clicking on—Y/N grinned.

A mischievous little idea formed in her mind, curling up like steam from the soup. “Come here, Cooper,” she whispered, crouching down and motioning to him like a cartoon villain who’d just hatched a plan. “Let’s do something before your mommy comes back.”

Fresh out of the shower, Aeri felt like a brand-new person. Her long pink hair was loosely gathered with a claw clip, some stray bangs falling around her face in soft, messy waves. Dressed in an oversized tee and pajama shorts, she padded barefoot to the dining area, the scent of something spicy and savory drawing her closer.

The lights were dimmed just right. It was cozy, warm and the table was already set with utensils, drinks, and a small Post-it note placed neatly on one of the chairs.

“Have a seat, Ms. Uchinaga.”

Aeri chuckled, the corner of her lips tugging up in fond amusement. “Y/N, you’re so dramatic,” she muttered to herself, but she obeyed, pulling out the chair and sitting down with a soft sigh.

Right on cue, Y/N emerged from the kitchen, holding a tray like a proud little chef at her Michelin-starred restaurant. “Welcome to Y/N’s Restaurant. Hope you enjoy your supper, ma’am,” she grinned, placing the tray on the table and beginning to arrange the plates with care: steaming kimchi jjigae, warm rice, pickled radish, and side dishes arranged with love.

“Hmm, thank you. I’d like one serving of hot food and one serving of you for supper,” Aeri replied with a wink, locking in with Y/N’s playful bit.

Y/N raised a brow and tilted her head dramatically. “Cannibalism? Ma’am, you want to eat me for supper?” she whispered in mock horror before snickering as she placed the kimchi bowl and radish pickles in front of her girlfriend.

Aeri leaned in slightly, the atmosphere suddenly shifting from play to something more tender, her voice softer. “Not when you look this cute.”

Y/N sat down across from her, resting her elbows gently on the table, her chin in her hands as she watched Aeri fondly. “Happy third anniversary, baby. I love you,” she said, her voice warm, eyes glowing with that look, the one that only ever belonged to Aeri.

Aeri’s eyes met hers. A quiet smile formed before she exhaled softly. “Thank you, Y/N. Happy third anniversary to us, cutie. I love you more.” She reached out to take Y/N’s hand, interlacing their fingers naturally, like breathing.

They stayed like that for a moment, letting the silence settle between them. Not awkward, not forced. Just full.

“…And you still owe me a slow dance,” Y/N added, lips curling into a sly smile as she raised a brow.

Aeri laughed under her breath, nodding with a hum. “I haven’t forgotten. A deal’s a deal.” She winked teasingly at Y/N.

Y/N turned her head, then gave a gentle whistle.

Within seconds, Cooper came bounding in from the hallway, except this time, the Sheepadoodle was wearing a birthday cap slightly lopsided on his head. Taped onto the hat was another bright yellow Post-it, clearly written in Y/N’s handwriting.

It read: “From your son, happy 3rd anniversary mommy.”

Aeri burst out laughing, nearly tearing up from the sight. “You didn’t—Y/N!” she squealed, covering her mouth as she watched Cooper sit proudly in front of the table, clearly oblivious to the paper hat flopping over one eye.

“Had to include the real MVP,” Y/N grinned, leaning back with pride. “He helped with the plan.”

Cooper barked, tail wagging like a metronome of joy, and Aeri gestured for him to come closer. “C’mere, baby,” she cooed, pulling out the chair next to her. With a proud little hop, the Sheepadoodle climbed up and settled beside her, sitting tall like he belonged there.

Across the table, Y/N was already laughing, full belly, full heart. “He looks like he’s about to file taxes,” she joked, pointing at the lopsided birthday hat barely hanging onto Cooper’s head. Aeri laughed harder, pulling off the yellow Post-it.

She gave it a quick glance, then let out another giggle, the kind that made her eyes crinkle and her dimples pop. Before she forgot, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of Cooper, committing this ridiculous moment to memory.

Dinner was filled with warm bites of kimchi jjigae, comfortable conversation, and lots of "here, try this one" across the table. The soup was just spicy enough to fight off the cold rain outside, and Y/N's cooking, while humble, was always her love language, always just what Aeri needed.

Later that night, the two of them settled into the living room, their hands brushing, laughter trailing behind them like perfume. The city was quiet beyond the windows, and the rain hadn’t let up, still drizzling gently, like the sky itself was sighing with them.

And then, another surprise.

Aeri blinked. “What…?”

The lights were dimmed, but in front of them, strung across the living room wall, was a 3-meter-long trail of Christmas tree lights, glowing gold, green, and red, throwing soft shadows across their features. The same ones they’d packed away in January, the ones that made the room feel like a home.

From the corner of the room, the Bluetooth speaker came to life—click, a small buzz—and then, soft and low, the opening chords of “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar ft. H.E.R. played.

Y/N turned to her with that signature grin, that confident little tilt of her head. “Dance with me.” She invited Aeri with a hand extended out.

Aeri didn’t even hesitate.

They met in the center of the living room, arms slipping around each other like they were molded that way. Y/N’s hands found Aeri’s waist; Aeri's arms wrapped gently around her neck. The lights cast halos across their faces, catching on lashes, lips, pink hair and sleepy eyes.

“You don’t know, babe…” the lyrics melted into the room like honey.

Y/N leaned in slightly, whispering in Aeri’s ear, “I forgot to say earlier... congratulations, baby. To you. To aespa. Billboard Women in Music? That’s insane. I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes bored into Aeri's dark eyes.

Aeri exhaled a laugh, shaking her head bashfully. “Thank you… that means a lot coming from the prettiest girl in this apartment.” She responded with a grin on her face.

“Well, Cooper’s very flattered,” Y/N teased.

Right on cue, the Sheepadoodle spun in circles around them, yipping with joy and tail wagging furiously. His little hat had finally fallen off. The couple broke into laughter, their bodies swaying with the music.

“You’re the coffee that I need in the morning…”

Aeri leaned in and pressed her lips to Y/N’s. It wasn’t showy or rushed, just a soft kiss that tasted like comfort and rain and love in its purest form. She didn’t let go. She buried her face into the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing her in.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” Aeri whispered against her skin.

Then she bent down, scooping Cooper up in her arms, the cute dog wiggling excitedly as she brought him back to their little dance floor.

“Okay, come on, you too,” she said with a giggle. “Family dance.”

And so, under the golden glow of borrowed Christmas lights, while the rain kept singing to the windows, Aeri and Y/N slow danced in their pajamas—arms wrapped around each other, and Cooper sandwiched between them, tail wagging in time with the music.

It was perfect.

æspa m.list | main m.list

[buntanteen]

sweet and loving boyfriend!joshua headcanons <3 (sfw)

summary: shua and reader romantic relationship headcanons :3 (you can read as a stand alone or as a part of the upcoming jihan poly relationship!!)

contains: mushy romance. implications that reader speaks korean & english

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

boyfriend!joshua who'll let you cling and bite onto his thick ass arms and put your face in his tiddies😌

sunday mornings are exclusively quality time with boyfriend!joshua. y'all will be making a breakfast spread or sitting on the balcony soaking in the sunrise, just quietly enjoying each other’s presence. joshie’s absolute favourites are rainy sunday mornings (…WE KNOW WHY) and he will smoother you with in bed cuddles <3 🥹

boyfriend!joshua who is completely and utterly enamoured by you. the two of you will make eye contact and he'll hit you with that lil ◠‿◠ smile and then you're melting and now he's melting and you're both melting, and the members are disgusted at how ooey gooey y'all are being

disgustingly sweet boyfriend!joshua who always does cheesy shit to make you blush. he’ll ask "hey, can you hold this for me? ><" and then proceed to put his hand in yours fgjkdbs

having to compromise with boyfriend!joshua about texting back because why does this man not reply to people??

boyfriend!joshua who will always order food for you!! and will always feed you the perfectly made bites of his meal as well :3

boyfriend!joshua who likes to share his specific taste in things (furniture, perfumes, jewellery, etc.) with you. even if you aren't for fancy things, you'll show interest for him because it makes him happy 😊

an absolute sucker for seasonal or weather-based dates. especially water based dates...what can i say boyfriend!joshua likes water. is so so happy in the rain, just running around splashing puddles (what can i say...he likes water :3)

winter dates: going ice skating and when u fall boyfriend!joshua skates up to u in distress and asks if u need some ice for that😑will buy you snacks at the street vendors as an apology and to warm you up <3

summer dates: at the beach where boyfriend!joshua loves taking sunset pics of you to make his phone's lockscreen and background

boyfriend!joshua who can't meet you empty handed and will get you random things such as lil drinks, a pair of socks cuz they were cute or an expensive ass perfume cuz he thinks it'll smell nice on you :3

boyfriend!joshua who will sweetly serenade you with his guitar…and then bust out the sunday morning because he got too shy afterwards

on days where you don't feel the best, boyfriend!joshua will come home to you with a care package when you feel down and absolutely pamper you with whatever you desire until you feel better. he'll definitely do that head patting thing to you 🥹

boyfriend!joshua kissing your hand as he leaves for his schedules. you tightening your grip and pulling him closer, causing him to do that delighted laugh of his before he gives you a proper goodbye kiss gjkfbd

matchy matchy outfits and items with boyfriend!joshua 🥰 loves when you’re matching him with a phone case or a keychain or jewellery or the entire fit

boyfriend!joshua being a gentleman and you being a one right back at him. it becomes a competition atp for who can do the more chivalrous thing. you opening his car door after he's driven you to your date destination? he'll open up the door to the establishment for you (he waved open to the sensor door thing lmao)

boyfriend!joshua u find him not crazy but it turns out u just are the same level of freak as him :D he's just crazy and crazy for you <3

trying out different hands on activities with boyfriend!joshua!! y’all are on a mission to try to impress his momma with baked goods (cuz wdym making cookies is easy THAT SHIT IS DIFFICULT😭)

switching languages with boyfriend!joshua during conversations. pulling different english or korean words whilst the members just stare at you confused (vernon either joins in or is in his own world)

boyfriend!joshua sweetly calling you “baby” or “yeobo”. or will casually call you “babe”. calls you “my baby” “my darling” in very romantic moments or when he wants something really badly cuz he knows it'll make you fold 😌

always making boyfriend!joshua laugh because it makes you so happy to see him so happy. his laughter pierces you, blooming and spreading joy throughout your body

boyfriend!joshua who is just a soft lover with a glowing warmth to him. he's the rays of the sunset that warms you after a long day with the promise of a better tomorrow <3

bun note: i am so SOOOO down bad for this man it is crazyyy. his recent live was my first ever live of joshie and i was just?? giggling??? and smiling??? so much!?!? svt at lollapalooza is in just over a day!! i hope everyone can enjoy ittttt (it is at like 3am for me rip. i hope y'all enjoyeddddd the writinggg~ i'm gonna write a jeonghan headcanon at some point idk when tho <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.