#the alien feet on the desk

[hotasfahrenheit]

how does this show even exist, how is it so perfectly hilarious and absurd and every kind of colourful and wonderful at the same time

what a gift

[sometimesmaybespoof]

Hey hey.. wy.. wy heyy!!!!!!! Look I told you I'm cooking! I told you!! I tollkkddd yoouuu!!!!

Click on image for better quality please😭 Tumblr butchers my 4k resolution:((((

[pyreflydust]

Ooooh desk that doesn't wobble

[bi-writes]

still wakes the deep au | soap x f!reader

Installment 2/?: Warning Signs

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. masterlist

Being alone feels different when there’s nowhere to run. Every wall looks the same, and the stench of must permeates in every room–the carpet must hold it in. Everything drips; the taste of salt won’t go away, and it makes your eyes dry out every time you close them and open them again. There are other people around you, men that are the cause of the knocks against the rig, but they are as alien as what lies beneath you. Every time you feel as if it’s too foreign, you remind yourself that there is nowhere to go.

The only way out of this place is by doing your job; but even that scares you all of the sudden.

Your bed is lumpy. The mattress feels dry, stiff, and it barely gives as you lay in it. You stare up at the bottom of the top bunk, trying not to think about the sound of sea water pelting your window like a threatening knock while you try to sleep.

Your mind barely gives. You keep the lamp that sits on your makeshift desk turned on. Without it, the black of nothingness from outside bleeds through the walls, and you swear you can see a thousand different shapes that claw their way out of the moonlight towards you. The rig doesn’t shake, but it breathes. It lives, somehow, deep legs connected to the seafloor to keep it from drifting off, from separating, from taking you with it, from suffocating you until your breaths are filled with water and your body is too cold to–

You jump when the lamp bursts. A jolt of electricity shatters the bulb, and you sit up in bed, clutching the sheets as you watch the lamp glow slightly before fizzling out. The room blankets into the dark, and you move shakily off your bed and pat around for your flashlight before clicking it on. The small circle of yellow light doesn’t do what you hoped; instead, it makes the shadows of every object longer and seem further away, and they start to move as your hand shakes, so much so that you cannot tell if something is coming towards you or if your mind is still convincing you of some sort of seasickness. One lodged into your brain, one that doesn’t make you nauseous but makes you paranoid that some hole in the ocean will open up and take you with it.

The thought of drowning is not as terrifying as finding out what lies beneath the surface of the water.

When you used to think of the ocean, it used to soothe you. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was crystal clear blue and tropical fish. You thought about running your fingers through warm water and kicking your feet as you watched dolphins fly beside you. When the sun penetrated the light, it shined until it showed the seafloor, where little creatures burrowed beneath bright sand, making it sparkle.

The ocean you know now is anything like it. You understand what they mean when they say “mother nature,” because only a woman scorned could eat the world the way she does. Waves touching taller than buildings. Animals so large, they would swallow you whole and let the acid of their insides quiet your screams for nutrition. An endless void, reaching miles towards the center of earth, a vast unknown that crushes heavy metals and defies physics the further and further you drop. She’s unforgiving. Mean. A terrifying, wonderful thing, and you are cheating death. You know it. She screams at you from just outside your thin walls, and you are pretending not to hear her. She’s telling you something, but you bury your nose in your books.

If it’s a warning she’s trying to give, you won’t know it until it’s too late.

The rig groans in the middle of the night. You can hear the pipes expanding, the water moving aggressively outside your window, the sounds of cranes and metal creaking that rattle off around you. Your hand shakes a little as you try and find your shoes, slipping them on as you open your door in search of a new source of light.

It’s the middle of the night, but there’s still a skeleton crew around, moving between their night shifts. You make your way down the hall, clicking off your flashlight, and you find yourself in the rec room in search of light bulbs in the utility closet there. You hear the doors swing open behind you, and you try to ignore the rowdy voices of men as you stand on your tiptoes and rummage the hundredth box for what you need. You try not to think about the whisps of something delicate you feel grazing your fingertips (because spiders wouldn’t be this far out from land, right?).

“Looks like ye need a little help, bonnie.”

You startle yourself nearly out of your skin. You trip off the ledge you’re standing on, trying to hold your hands out to brace yourself, but you never hit the ground. Strong hands grip you around the middle, breaking your fall and getting you back onto your feet, nice and steady. You spin around, clutching your flashlight to your chest, panting like an anxious puppy. You can make out his blue eyes even in the dark, bright and seemingly concerned as Soap tries to get a grip on you to keep you from swaying.

“‘S alright, lass, ‘s just me! Soap, it’s Soap.”

You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm your breathing, You shake your head, closing your eyes as you try and repeat the mantra you’ve been telling yourself since you got on this stupid rig.

Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I…”

“What are ye doin’ up?” He asks, clicking his tongue. “‘S the middle of the night! Reckon ye need yer beauty sleep.”

You smile a bit, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You do it to placate him. Men don’t always respond well to sharp teeth, and you haven’t decided how you feel about this one yet. He’s too comfortable. His hands are still around your arms, thumbs smoothing too easily over the bone of your shoulders. He’s too close; he steps just nearer to you, tongue sliding over that top row of teeth, and you try not to think about the way his pupils dilate at the terrified look on your face, the one your smile cannot hide. When he tilts his head to the side, you think he means to look curious, but you think it closer to prey playing with its food. The curls of his growing mohawk fall over his forehead, drawing a dark shadow over his eyes, and you can no longer try to see what might give him away in his gaze.

“The light in my…room. I need a new one, I–” You shake your head. “It’s stupid, but I just…I can’t sleep.”

“We’ll get ye all right fer bed, love,” Soap chuckles. “What’s broken, ye ken what kind ye need?”

You blink, biting your lip, thinking. He’s still touching you; he still has his hands around your arms, but now they’ve settled around your elbow, calloused fingers curled over where they rest.

“I’m not sure. The lamp on my desk, it’s–”

“Ach, those are hidin’, I’m sure o’ it,” he lets you go, reaching up and hoisting down a few boxes before reaching for what lies behind them. He carries them on his shoulder before dropping them onto the floor, and you try not to think about watching him work. He’s a large man. Strong, that much is evident, but there’s something off. You think his physical appearance hides what lies inside. He’s pretty, in a way that shouldn’t be allowed. Straight teeth, a killer smile, arms that do not give once they’re taut with use. Even the uniform he wears does nothing to hide thicker thighs and a solid middle; but you try not to let it distract you from what really remains. If he wasn’t so gorgeous, you don’t think he’d get away with that tick that must exist in his brain. The one that allows him to crowd your space without much resistance. The one that lets him smile like that, like he’s won something, like he’s gotten what he wanted not because he fought for it, but because it is what he is owed. 

He bends over and picks up a bulb that looks good enough and hands it to you. When he straightens his back, you try to catch that look in his eyes again. Maybe he knows you’re looking for it, and now he’s hiding it. Maybe he’s cooing in his own head about what a clever girl you are and trying to decide how he’ll play his game differently.

“Can walk ye back, put it in fer ye.”

You take it from him, drawing a shaky breath. You want to say no. You want to tell him you can do it all on your own, that you’re fine, but then the closet door swings open, and a group of tired-looking crew stare at the two of you as they snicker and nudge each other.

“Wot ye doin’, Soap, seven minutes in heaven with the fuckin’ feds?”

“Och–shut the fuck up, the lot o’ ye,” Soap bites back. “Just doin’ her fuckin’ job, just like the rest o’ ye, so get the fuck out the way. Middle of the night, bunch of gobshites.”

Soap puts a hand around the small of your back, guiding you past the group and out into the hallway. He follows you wordlessly back to accommodations, stopping in front of your door. Your name isn’t on it, but you don’t comment about how he knew this was yours. He waits for you to open the door for him before following you inside.

“A right mess, luvvie.”

He doesn’t let you help. He kicks your bin under the desk, carefully discarding of the pieces of glass that are scattered across your desk. He grumbles under his breath about it being too sharp and how he will do it better and how he can take care of ye. 

When the lamp clicks back on, it paints the room in that comforting orange light, and you relax as you take a seat on your bed, clutching the sheets to dry your clammy palms. He still invades your space, but somehow, with the light, it dampens the sentiment. He scares you just a little less, but if you give him just that much, how much will he use it to his advantage?

“Ye need anythin’, I’m…just down there,” Soap says finally. He points behind him, down the north end of the hallway, and all you can do is nod. “Don’t listen to the lot, bonnie,” Soap adds. “Bunch o’ old, tired bastards. Mean no harm. But if they do, ye come ta me, ye hear?”

“Uhm…Soap?” You call out as he’s leaving. You don’t know why you stop him. You don’t know why you’re talking to him; you’re certain he’s not a stranger to telling a good lie. He turns to face you, leaning against the doorway, and you clear your throat. No one should look this good on just a few hours of sleep, but he’s still blinking awake, unsettlingly calm. “This place…it’s safe, right? I mean…safe as it ought to be?”

Soap smiles, but it’s not like his other smiles. It feels unnatural. His teeth are duller. Lips drier. Maybe he’s just tired.

“It’s safe, love. Swear it. Got me on those rivets.”

You don’t know why, but when he comes close to you, you let him. You let him touch your face, thick fingers smoothing down your jaw just a little too rough, big thumb along your bottom lip rubbing just a little too hard. You hear his door shut nearby once he goes.

The ocean screams. You can hear her again now that his voice is no longer around. You fall asleep knowing he’s close, and you pretend not to notice her. Just like always.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human (Yandere!Alien X GN!Reader)

CW: Mind break, training, human pet, pet/owner relationship, humiliation, dub-con, non-con, dead dove

Pt 2, pt 3

(Reader) sat quietly and fearfully in a small cage that didn't allow for any wiggle room, their legs falling asleep under them from being in the same position for so long. They didn't remember how they got here, in a cage surrounded by freaks in what seemed to be a street market, only remembering walking home from the convenience store a little past midnight and seeing a white, blinding light before passing out.

Aliens of all shapes stuck their disgusting faces towards the bars of (Reader's) cage, speaking in sounds that didn't sound like speech at all. (Reader) watched as sniffling cages near them were bought one by one, and feared for their future.

After nearly an entire day (Reader) felt their cage lift high above the ground without shaking, and witnessed a tall creature draped with beautiful deep blue robes raise the cage to get a better look at (Reader's) face without needing to bend down. And bending down to the tiny cage must have been impossible without dirtying it's knees, since it seemed over seven feet tall.

It's face face was smooth, with large, opal colored eyes eyes in a hard shelled face. There was no nose, or lips, on its black and purple iridescent face. It spoke in a human like voice, in an earth language (Reader) couldn't understand.

"What?" Their voice was dry from dehydration.

"I asked what language you speak."

The voice was higher than expected, and melodic, yet still masculine. He lowered the cage to his hip, but didn't set (Reader) down, exchanging chatter with the seller and handing over a bag full of, what (Reader) assumed to be, some type of currency.

(Reader) was carried back to what looked like to be a large ship, dying of anxiety over what was going to become of them. They passed through multiple corridors and gateways, before entering a room decorated with glass cases and blue drapery the same color as the alien's cloak. He placed the cage on the floor and unlatched it, stepping back to give (Reader) space.

They tried to stand, but their legs were dead from the hours they spent bent doubled over. They cried in pain as the feeling began to slowly tingle down their thighs to their feet.

"What is wrong, human?"

(Reader) wiped away the snot and tears rolling down their chin. "My-My legs are numb from sitting in the cage. It hurts."

The one who bought (Reader) reached under their arm pits, raising them up and sitting them on a very high desk. He reached with what looked like scaled hands and began to massage their legs. (Reader) whined in discomfort, both at the pain and the uncomfortable situation, fearful to push the much taller creature away. Now that they were out of the cage, the alien was much taller and imposing, visibly sleek bodied under the fabric, but not scrawny, (Reader) could feel his strength.

"What is your name, human?"

"...(Reader)."

"(Reader)." He practiced saying their name, still massaging their legs. "I am Kirtch."

(Reader) nervously fiddled with the bottom of their shirt. "Why am I here?"

Kirtch pried his eyes away from their legs, looking down into (Reader's) scared face. "This will be your new home."

"What?" (Reader's) heart dropped into their stomach.

"I promise your safety, (Reader). I will do my best to provide you with comfort." Kirtch picked (Reader) up again, but didn't set them down, carrying them around the room giving them a little tour. The room was actually three, entering from the main hall into a study first, with another door leading to a bedroom, a small restroom hidden within that.

"I didn't expect to be bringing you home, so I don't have any human furniture yet. Although I've never owned a human before there is no need for you to fret, I have done extensive research, and I am confident as a first time owner."

(Reader) only just began to fully realize what was happening to them. "I.. I want to go home." The back of their throat got tight, choking back a sob painfully. Their nose began to tingle and they knew they wouldn't be able to hold back their tears for long.

Kirtch rubbed their back in what was supposed to be a comforting manor, but his hands were harder than a humans, and it was rough against their skin. "You'll feel better once your adjustment period is over. I shall bring you something to eat. It won't be a cultural dish from your planet, but it will be made of human safe ingredients."

(Reader) stretched their legs while trying to smile through their tears. 'Like hell. I'd rather die.'

They watched as he left the room, wondering how far away the kitchen or dining area was from the room they were in. (Reader) waited for a few minutes after Kirtch left before shakily rushing towards the door. But the door had no handles or knobs, it was a flat wall with barley any indication that there was an opening at all. They touched all over the spot (Reader) had seen the tall man had placed his hand, but nothing happened.

"no no nO NO!" They slapped the "door" in frustration. Time for plan B. (Reader) pressed their back against the wall, as flat as they could muster, just trying to make sure they wouldn't be visible in Kirtch's peripherals. The fear was destroying the lining of (Reader's) stomach, gurgling uncomfortably.

A whirring noise activated as Kirtch entered the room, holding a tray in his hands. It was quick, but (Reader) snuck right behind Kirtch and out the room without him noticing, right before the automatic door slid shut. The walls of the hallway were very tall and slightly rounded, made out of a blue metal. (Reader) began running in the direction they remembered entering from. They knew the probability that they were still on land was slim, but dying was better than being kept a prisoner without any hope of returning home.

(Reader) made it down only one hallway before strong hands effortlessly lifted them under their armpits. They kicked while crying, not seemingly phasing Kirtch in the slightest. He brought them back to his room, and his lack of anger hurt (Reader's) pride; it was good that he wasn't furious, threatening to hurt them, but his calmness reinforced the futility of (Reader's) escape attempt.

"That was my fault. I read that humans were prone to escaping, especially in the adjustment period. I should have expected this." He sat down, a deep imitation of a sigh rumbling through his hard chest. Kirtch sat down in his large chair in front of his desk, and laid (Reader) across his knees as their face fell. "Knowing this is my fault brings me no joy for what I need to do, however the manual did say that humans will test authority and will continue to do so if not punished."

(Reader) protested while squirming, incapable of breaking free as Kirtch slid their pants down to their thighs, exposing their bare bottom. His shelled hand was cold against their skin. (Reader) clenched to prepare themselves for contact, but it was useless against the inhuman slap, his hard flesh resulting in a sharp pain like they had been struck with a paddle instead of a hand. They yelped, squeezing their thighs together as the tears began to form again.

Another slap connected with their ass painfully, stinging as their tender rear began to bruise.

"I'm so-sorry!" (Reader) blubbered, another whack rippling their buttocks aggressively.

"Humans may appear remorseful, however this is self defense tactic to cease the pain they are experiencing. Unless one establishes themselves as the dominant force, they will continue to act out."

"No! I really am sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" Their voice cracked as they screamed out the apology between sobs and slaps.

Kirtch smiled, rubbing the skin he had split open, stinging the fresh cuts. "I shall finish with your punishment for now. I do not wish to spoil you, but I would be lying if I didn't have a soft spot for you, my cute little pet. The next time this happens I will not be so gentle.."

(Reader) widened their eyes in horror. That was gentle?!

"Would you rather spend your first night in my bed, or shall I prepare a nest on the floor for you? I will buy a suitable human bed for you tomorrow, of course, but until then..?"

"The floor." (Reader) replied a little too quickly.

A "nest" of bedding was constructed, and (Reader) did find it quite comfortable, but refused to sleep, fearful that at any moment they would be in danger. They rested for what only felt like three or fours hours, max, before Kirtch rose from his bed and begun his day. His routine was uncannily similar to a human's, rising and dressing in his robe, stretching and leaving to five something to eat. It only enraged (Reader) further at their inhumane treatment.

"I am not a dog." They whispered to themselves, as though fearful they would forget.

The ship must have been still docked at the trader's colony, because throughout the day gifts for (Reader) were brought into Kirtch's room and office. With each piece of "human" furniture Kirtch would happily rub (Reader's) head, petting them like an animal and waiting for them to show some kind of sign that they enjoyed their new toys. But (Reader) showed no such sign, feeling humiliated as they were treated like a cat instead of an adult human. But they didn't snack away Kirtch's hand, or tell him off, scared of being punished again, so they simply sulked, trying to hide from his gaze so they could disassociate without interruption.

His new pet's attitude was making Kirtch worried. He flipped through the human owning handbook, wondering what he could be doing wrong. They seemed so stressed, and Kirtch felt it was far worse than the normal stress of a new environment. Then Kirtch flipped to an interesting chapter on chemical responses. "If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..."

(Reader) hid under a box, hating the irony of their hiding place while they tried to formulate a new escape plan, now knowing that they were in fact still connected to some type of land. Not every alien could be a cruel monster, there had to be some kind of interplanetary animal rights group or space hippies. The box was lifted and removed from (Reader) sat to the side as Kirtch smiled down on them.

"I'm sorry I haven't been playing with you, pet. I've been so busy trying to make this room more comfortable for you that I have been unintentionally neglecting you." He scooped (Reader) up into his arms, and brought them over to his desk, which he had already cleared off. (Reader) nervously glanced around, wondering what was going to happen to them. "But I wanted to help you become acclimated to your new home. And you still feel more comfortable the sooner we ease your stress." He pulled out a box and a couple of strange bottles with syringes.

(Reader) scrambled to get away, but was quickly held down by one hand, being shushed in what was supposed to be a calming manner. One of the strange bottles filled the syringe, making (Reader) thrash harder. Kirtch pulled down their pants, revealing their still sore ass cheeks, and stuck in the needle, injecting them with the unknown liquid. (Reader) cried out as a warm sensation rippled through their body, turning their limbs to jello and making it difficult to breathe.

Kirtch released them, seeing that they could no longer run from him. (Reader) growled, pissed off that their body wouldn't act as they wanted it to. "What did you do to me?!" Their body was rapidly heating, becoming to feverish to hold up.

"If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..." Kirtch opened the box next, revealing a strange rubber looking object shaped like a cup on the outside with polyps inside. "I have always wanted a pet human, (Reader), so I was very excited to see you for sale. You are the most attractive like human I've ever seen, and I promise to give you a long, happy life."

The device was placed on (Reader's) crotch, attaching itself to their pubic area without needing to be held on. It came to life, each nub moving on it's own as it rubbed (Reader's) growing erection. The contraption grew against (Reader's) body, enlarging to fill every hole and crevice, pulsating and writhing like a living creature.

"No! It feels gross! Take it off!" (Reader) screamed in fear, watching as their hips bucked against their will and their nipples hardened through their shirt. Tears over how unfair everything was pricked at their eyes. Kirtch lifted (Reader) into the sitting position, rubbing their back soothingly while giving them a better view of the throbbing toy violating them.

"Shh. There's a good pet.." His words felt like taunts to (Reader) as they kept approaching their orgasm.

(Reader's) body was shaking as it begged for release, but (Reader) held strong, trying to rob Kirtch of the satisfaction of seeing them crumble. Another bottle was opened, this one however was poured down (Reader's) throat before they had a chance to cognitively force themselves to close their mouth. The warm liquid was tasteless and odorless, but the effect was like an immediate five shots of vodka, clearing (Reader's) sinuses and plunging them into a drunken stupor.

"What..? What..?" (Reader) couldn't even form their sentence correctly. Their unfocused eyes drifted around confusedly before snapping down to their lower regions, feeling their stomach muscles clench in anticipation.

Kirtch continued to rub their head and chest, gently rubbing their head like a good puppy while he rolled their nipple between his harsh fingers. "Whose my good little pet?"

"Ahh! No.. I'm not a pet.." (Reader's) whimpering voice mewled pathetically, their quivering lips complimenting their sweaty visage. The tingling feeling that had been building was ready to overflow.

"Don't you want to cum, little pet? It's okay. I'll make sure to always keep you happy like this, all you have to do is ask nicely." Kirtch leaned in, amused by his human's drenched thighs soaking his desk, shaking from being denied their orgasm. Behind (Reader's) back, Kirtch held a remote. They would not achieve relief until they played the part of a good little pet.

Drool dripped down (Reader's) chin, unnoticed by their hazy mind. "I-I want to cum."

"What was that?"

"Please let me cum?" They moaned, trying to press themselves deeper into the toy.

A button was pressed outside of (Reader's) peripherals.

Their body rocked violently as (Reader) was finally allowed to achieve their climax. Kirtch continued to stroke their head affectionately, whispering words of praise to his little human as liquid dripped from between the toy and their wet holes.

Kirtch kissed the top of their damp head, still smiling over how adorable (Reader) was. Although he hoped his pet would come to love him and enjoy his company on their own, he was secretly excited to use this toy on his little pet again. He peeled the appliance off, causing (Reader) to twitch sensitively in Kirtch's arms. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed, but Kirtch found that it wasn't a bad look on (Reader).

"Why don't you lay down for a nap, little pet. We'll play some more when you wake up."

[megalony]

No One Helped

It's been too long, but finally here is another Bobby Nash imagine, I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05

Bobby Nash Masterlist

Summary: While (Y/n) is helping out at another station, she gets injured. But rather than helping her, this team decide to tease her about her relationship with her Captain, who she has to call for help.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a deep breath, (Y/n) rapped her knuckles on the door and opened it just enough to peek her head inside. She didn't want to barge in if Bobby was on the phone or in the middle of paperwork, the last thing (Y/n) wanted to do was distract him.

But the grin that lit up his face when he saw her made the nerves in her stomach simmer down and when he waved his hand towards her, she took the invitation. She headed inside and shut the door behind her, walking into the office with her eyes trained on her partner.

Bobby was sat at his desk, one elbow propped up on the desk and the other holding the work phone to his ear. He didn't seem to invested in the call and the way he rolled his eyes and pulled the phone away from his ear made (Y/n)'s smile change into a smirk. He was on the phone to someone in head office, by the looks of things.

With a nod of his head, Bobby muttered a brief "Understood. Thank you," and hung up the phone as quickly as possible without coming across as unpolite.

The moment the phone was out of his hand, Bobby groaned and tilted back in his deak chair, leaning his head back until he was practically staring up at the ceiling.

He ran a hand up and down his face, trying to muster some strength and willpower but seeing (Y/n) walk into his office was already brightening his mood and keeping a smile on his face. His eyes followed her as she trailed towards him and perched down on the edge of his desk. Her feet pressed into the base of his chair to steady herself and her hands gripped the edge of the desk so she didn't tilt too far forwards or back.

"Hi,"

"Hi sweetheart." Bobby grinned and sat forward in his chair enough so that he could fold his arms over (Y/n)'s thighs and lean into her. He rose a brow and tilted his head to one side as he looked up at her. "What can I do for you?"

There was no need to be formal when it was only the two of them in the office. Granted, everyone on the team knew (Y/n) was Bobby's girlfriend and no one made a fuss or said anything, but they still had to remain professional. Bobby was Captain, he couldn't go around with his hands on (Y/n)'s waist or an arm always looped around her shoulders or kissing her whenever he felt like it.

The odd touch here and there was fine, but that was it if they were out front in the station around the team. And if they were out on a call, interactions between them were limited and Bobby always had to think and caution himself not to let petnames roll off the tongue in front of people.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) traced her hand along Bobby's shoulder until she was cupping the side of his face and her thumb could trace over his high cheekbone.

"Missed you, and I thought I could help with the audits."

(Y/n) traced her thumb across Bobby's lower lip when his smile morphed into a smirk and a small laugh tumbled past his lips. But he leaned into her touch and twisted his head enough to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

His hands squeezed her thighs and he pushed up so he was a bit closer to her level rather than leaning down towards her legs.

"Oh really?"

(Y/n) hummed, but she could barely find her voice when Bobby reached up to hold her chin and he gently pulled her down in his direction until he could steal a kiss. They had been on shift for almost three hours already and he had barely been able to touch her in that time. It was too long when (Y/n) was always so close by.

(Y/n) couldn't help the way she smiled against Bobby's lips and she let go of the desk in favour of looping both arms loosely around Bobby's neck.

She enjoyed helping Bobby with the audits, sometimes there was just too much paperwork for one person. So they ended up sharing the work, Bobby would sign and account for everything and check the numbers, and (Y/n) would file them away correctly or label them or get them ready to be sent over to head office.

It was something to do when they didn't have a call and all their cleaning rotas were finished and up to date. And (Y/n) enjoyed tidying and filing everything away correctly.

When their lips parted, Bobby brushed his thumb along her chin, getting lost in those eyes for a few moments until (Y/n) murmured "Can I?" against his lips. For a second he was stumped on what she was referring to but when her hand moved to the stack of papers on his desk and she began to tap against them, Bobby groaned quietly.

"Usually I'd say yes, but I need to ask a favour, sweetheart."

That sounded promising.

(Y/n) nudged her foot against Bobby's leg and inclined her head to the side, intrigue pooling in her eyes. She began brushing her thumb up and down the back of Bobby's neck which had him visibly shivering. And when he scooted the chair closer to her, (Y/n) obliged and parted her legs so he could move between them.

His hands curled around her hips as she stayed sitting on the edge of the desk, but the way Bobby tilted his head back to look up at her made (Y/n) curious. There was something in his eyes that wasn't usual and his smile was beginning to fade. Whatever favour he was going to ask for, (Y/n) had an unsettling feeling that she wasn't going to like it.

"What favour?" Her tone was sceptical and her arms tightened around his neck a little while she continued to trace her fingers along his neck and scratch at the short hairs at the base of his head.

"I've just had head office on the phone. The 189 are down a couple of people and I've been asked to lend a few of my team to them for the next few days."

Oh dear.

"Since Eddie's about to head home, I can't send him today, and I can't send Hen or Chim because I need medics here. Can you go there for me today, and possibly tomorrow? I can send Buck with you tomorrow and he can do the shift the day after that and then it's all covered."

A jolt ran through (Y/n)'s heart and she felt her smile dampening, even as she tried to stay composed.

She didn't want to go to a different team.

One shift was far too long to be working with a completely different team, especially just for one day. (Y/n) would have to get to know them and get into their way of working just for two days, they probably wouldn't let her help and she would be sat on the sidelines.

But how could she say no?

It wouldn't be fair for (Y/n) to decline and either send Buck or someone else from the team. And if she would be going with Buck again tomorrow, at least she would have one person she knew who she gelled with and could work as a team with. They could boost each other through the shift and at least she wouldn't be alone. It would just be today that (Y/n) would have to transfer and feel like the odd one out in a new unit.

"Okay."

It wouldn't seem right to ask Bobby to consider sending someone else. If anyone on the team found out or asked why she wasn't going, what would they say? She couldn't get preferrential treatment from Bobby, they had agreed upon that from the moment they got into a relationship together.

"Thank you sweetheart." Bobby rolled his lips into a thin line when (Y/n) leaned down and rested her temple against his.

He could see the anxiety written across her face and he could practically feel it rushing through her. Going to a new team with people she didn't know was going to flare up her anxiety, but at least it was only until tonight since she was on a double shift. And tomorrow Buck would be with her so her anxiety would be a lot calmer then.

Bobby nudged his nose against hers, tilting her head back so he could kiss her. He pushed up from his chair so he was leaning over her rather than sitting below her and his hands tightened on her hips while he took her lower lip between his teeth.

He felt one of her legs locking behind his knee in an effort to bring him closer and cage him in, as if he would of thought about stepping away from her. And the feeling of her fingers weaving into the short hair at the back of his head made him groan against her lips.

But the moment was interrupted by the bell ringing out in the hall.

Their noses brushed when their lips parted and Bobby leaned his temple down into hers, panting against her lips as he internally cursed dispatch's timing.

"You may as well come with us in the truck, I can drop you off along the way." It would save time if (Y/n) tagged along on this call and on route they could stop near the 189 and drop her off. It saved (Y/n) needing to find transport to get down there.

She and Bobby had started their shifts at the same time, something which happened most days and so Bobby always drove them to work.

"I'll pick you up tonight when we finish." Bobby could easily swing by the other station and pick (Y/n) up tonight when they both finished. It seemed the most sensible solution.

(Y/n) nodded and forced a smile onto her face before she pushed up and snagged one final kiss from Bobby. If she wasn't going to see him until tonight, she was going to make the most of it.

She just hoped she managed to get through this shift with a strange team.

***

(Y/n) didn't like this team.

Not only was she the only woman on this shift, but being the outsider made her a target for them. The team didn't try and push her to one side or tell her to hang back, if anything they pushed her forwards to try and make her do the most of their work.

That would have been fine if the team didn't give (Y/n) such a hard time about her relationship.

She knew this Captain Harper had said something. The 118 all knew she was Bobby's girlfriend, they had to, and it didn't bother any of them. They didn't make jokes or doubt Bobby and accuse him of favouritism, they could all see he played things fair and without prejudice, as always.

Bobby had to tell the Chief about their relationship and (Y/n) guessed that some of the other Captains knew because of being in head office and having news travel around. But no one on the other teams knew, the 118 kept their news and lives private and secluded to their station.

Captain Harper had told his team that (Y/n) was dating the Captain back in her own station.

Snide remarks never bothered her until today because every time they said something to her, it cut deep.

"Careful Cap, she's got a thing for men in charge, you could be next."

"Yeah, don't discipline her. That might be a turn on."

"Isn't Nash a bit old for you? Or is that how you like your men?"

All their remarks were swirling around in (Y/n)'s head like a spiteful record that wouldn't be quiet. The only bright side (Y/n) had was that she would be able to go home in a handful of hours. She could go and be with Bobby, and then she would only have to suffer these people for one more shift.

And who knew, maybe tomorrow because Buck would be with her, they might not say anything. For all Buck's sweet mannerisms and the docile side to him, he could be intimidating when he wanted to be. These guys might not want to mess with him and therefore they might play nice tomorrow when she and Buck came to help out.

So far, the whole team had made it clear she wasn't one of them.

It was as if they were just letting her be here with them, letting her enjoy the experience of working with them. She was a child allowed to play amongst the big kids, but they didn't really want her here.

Focusing back on the task at hand, (Y/n) looked behind her to the lady she was escorting down the ladder. They were evacuating people from a building fire, all part of the job and at least being busy meant the team didn't have time to make anymore snide remarks to or about (Y/n).

"This way, you're doing great." (Y/n) smiled behind her at the woman she was guiding down the ladder.

She could feel the woman's head pressing into her shoulder and both hands were clutching (Y/n)'s arm through her jacket. She was afraid of heights and the way she clung to (Y/n) was almost cutting off her circulation.

Reaching behind her, (Y/n) gave the woman's arm a squeeze before she reached her free hand in front of her to keep hold of the woman's little boy. She couldn't have either of them tripping down the ladder and hurting themselves in front of a team that didn't like or appreciate (Y/n). They might try and report her.

"There we go, Thompson will get you down to the ground safely."

The much taller man, Thompson, gave a curt nod and picked up the little boy while he beckoned the mother over to him.

She seemed reluctant to let (Y/n) go but finally obliged so (Y/n) could unbuckle herself from the safety rope connected to the ladder.

"Alright (Y/n), Eddison let's go. Move."

(Y/n) looked across at Eddison who was working on reeling the ladder back down so they could sort out. All they had to do now was make sure the fire was completely out and ensure everyone was on their way to the hospital. The Captain had already talked to the building manager and started to sort things out.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what happened.

She didn't know whether something had broken, if something had pulled out of Eddison's hands or if he simply lost his footing or his sense of balance. But whatever happened caused him to stumble back towards (Y/n).

"Shit!" He stumbled again, crashing down on his backside with one hand clinging to the ladder to stop himself falling off the top of the truck and the other hand slamming into the floor to steady himself.

His weight and force barrelled into (Y/n)'s legs and swept them from beneath her faster than she could react. Her arms flailed out at her sides and a scream burst past her lips when she slipped over the side of the truck. It felt like flying. It felt like (Y/n)'s stomach was rising up towards her head and her body was whistling through the wind. The feeling was extraordinary.

Until she hit the floor.

She landed on her side with a bang, but it was the way her head slammed into the floor that made (Y/n) feel like she had died on impact.

Her helmet flew off her head the moment she toppled from the truck. It was no longer attached to her head to stop her from splitting her head open during accidents just like this. She could see stars twinkling before her eyes in the middle of the day. She could feel her head spinning in wide circles like she was on the waltzers at a theme park.

Her heartbeat pulsed through her head that felt like a split coconut and a sob burst past her lips when her head throbbed and every part of her body started to tremble and jolt.

"(Y/n)… oh Christ, alright let's get you up."

(Y/n) wasn't sure who it was that leered over her. All she knew was that she was in too much pain and shock to want to get up. And when a hand grabbed her wrist and roughly yanked her up to her feet, (Y/n) all but screamed.

She wobbled back and forth, stumbling back three paces until the man in front of her held her by the shoulders with such a tight grip it felt like he was going to squeeze her like a balloon until she popped. He kept hold of her until she was no longer swaying on her feet and her body was finally being held up by her legs that had turned to jelly.

Why did he drag her up? Couldn't he see that the air had been knocked out of her? Why didn't he just let her recover for a few seconds first? Couldn't he have checked her over before he got her up, what if she had broken her leg or her ankle?

Tears burned down (Y/n)'s face like acid rain and she sniffed, drawing in a deep breath as her head clouded over.

She moved her right hand to try and delicately cradle her temple, but even her fingertips grazing over her side made her vision blackout and sent her knees buckling. Her head felt awful. She had a concussion, she just knew it. (Y/n) couldn't feel any blood soaking into her hair or trickling down her skin, but that didn't mean she didn't have a bad concussion.

Her head bounced off a concrete road and her helmet fell off before she hit the ground. There had been nothing to save her from the fall or protect her in any way.

"You okay (Y/n)?"

It was Eddison. He climbed down from the truck and moved to stand in front of her with a very perplexed, concerned look in his eyes. At least one person on this fucked up team cared that she had been hurt.

"My- ooh, my head." She gasped, trying again to cradle her head but all it did was make her eyes water and had her swaying back and forth on her feet. She slumped herself back against the truck to stay upright when it felt like her knees were going to cave in beneath her.

"Captain, (Y/n)'s got an injury." Eddison was the only one out of the team who didn't seem annoyed or phased by (Y/n) being on with them today. He was the only one who made an effort to talk to her and right now, he was the only one with sorrow in his eyes and concern etched onto his face.

Thompson, who had dragged her to her feet- something (Y/n) knew none of the trained medics on her own team would have done- just huffed and looked her up and down like she was causing a big fuss over nothing.

She had fallen. She was concussed in the very least, she could have any number of problems leading from this and she could barely keep her eyes open for a start. She wasn't going to be able to carry on and if she was concussed then dragging her to her feet and trying to move her wasn't what they should have done.

Did no one in this team care if someone got hurt? Did they all have super healing powers like Wolverine? Could they continue with broken bones like it was a sprain? Well (Y/n) wasn't like that. She was human, she was in agony and she felt like she could pass out or die right here. She needed to be checked out.

She needed her team. She wanted Bobby; he would of checked her over himself and made sure she was okay and taken to hospital. He would have worried about her.

Panic burst to life in (Y/n)'s chest when Captain Harper stood a few feet in front of her and Eddison.

He looked them both up and down, scrutinising and assessing them while he glared through narrowed eyes. His gaze made (Y/n) feel like a child or a weakling who had done something wrong. She knew if she were back on her own team, they would have been more understanding and forgiving and concerned. And not just because her partner happened to be her Captain. Bobby was fair, he didn't favouritise and he cared greatly when anyone on his team was injured.

"You're clearly up and moving, you'll be fine. Everyone back in the truck, let's go."

Shrugging his shoulders, Eddison lowered his head and gave (Y/n) a sorrowful look before he turned and heaved into the truck, groaning as he went. He clearly dealt with this treatment a lot and he knew better than to argue.

Was that it? She didn't get checked out or assessed or even get the chance to talk to a medic? She was just glared into like the Captain had X-ray vision and deemed fit and capable to work. To Hell with the tears pouring down her face. Who cared that she could barely move or see? What did it matter that she was in mass agony and couldn't stand up straight?

"C- can't I see a medic?" Ragged breaths escaped her lips as she tilted her head back into the truck and looked across at Captain Harper who she felt very uneasy with.

But the way he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes made (Y/n) shiver and she knew undoubtedly that she wasn't going to get any help or compassion from anyone on this team.

"Maybe sleeping with the Captain back in your own team gets you a free pass anytime you screw up, but that won't work here. Wipe away those crocodile tears and all of you, get in the truck. Now."

Tremors coursed through (Y/n)'s chest and she bit down on her lip to stop the tears from falling. Why did showing she was in pain mean she was weak or useless or any different? What good would it do to be stoic and pretend she could handle anything when she couldn't? Hiding pain would only prolongue her suffering and make her injuries worse if she didn't get them seen to. She could be a liability to the team if she tried to keep going and ended up collapsing on shift.

But there was nothing (Y/n) could do. This wasn't her team, they had all made that very clear. No one was going to help her if the Captain thought she was being pretentious. And they all clearly thought she was with Bobby to gain preferential treatment. It didn't cross their minds that she might actually love her partner.

Her hand moved to cradle her head and she let her body stoop forward like her head weighed more than a bowling ball. Her body leaned to the left and she used the door to propel herself up into the truck while her head pounded and throbbed like she was constantly being whacked.

She slumped down into the seat next to the window, making herself as small as possible. She shrank away from the others as they all climbed in and started talking about what they would be eating later on for tea at the station.

(Y/n) wasn't going to be with them for that.

She wasn't staying on this team any longer.

She was leaving. If she had been feeling better, she would have put up a fight. She would have argued with Harper in front of his team, no matter what everyone else thought or said. She would have stood her ground and told him what a self-centred, egotistical idiot he was and she would have walked back to the 118 from here.

But in her current state, (Y/n) knew it would be better for her to get a ride back to their station and then she could grab her things and leave. She wasn't sure whether she was going to make her way back to the 118 or if she was going home. Either way, she wasn't staying with these maniacs any longer.

Her arms cocooned around her waist and she dropped her head against the window. The cold glass felt soothing to her throbbing temple and she closed her eyes when the passing scenery started to make her feel sick.

They thought she was weak. They thought she was being a hypochondriac or making this up. These people believed she was used to wrapping Bobby around her finger and getting him to do something if she got a cut or a bruise. They thought she was weak and she was complaining about a few little bruises. She was one of them. (Y/n) was a firefighter, she had been in a few accidents over the years, she had dealt with broken bones and burns and concussions. And each of them had hurt and blinded her with pain.

As soon as the truck pulled up in the station, (Y/n) flung the door open and flung herself down. Her arms bound tighter to her chest, her body coiled over and leaned forward and she pushed herself to walk down the station and head towards the locker room.

It was empty. (Y/n) couldn't have been more thankful that no one was in there and that no one else followed her into the room.

She headed over to the single locker on the far right. The spare one with no tape across the top and no name scribbled across. It took a lot of effort to shrug off her jacket and she coughed through her next breath when her head started to pound and her knees wavered.

Her temple flopped against the locker door and she sobbed rather loudly as she weakly tried to rummage through her back to find her phone.

She didn't bother to feel embarrassed as she leaned on the locker door for support. (Y/n) feared if she sat down or slid down to the floor, she would never get back up again. She had to stay upright and keep herself mobile so she didn't lose momentum and energy.

She hooked her bag on her shoulder and dialled Bobby's number before she lost the courage. There was no way she was staying here and there was no way (Y/n) could tell this team- especially Captain Harper, that she was leaving without them making a fuss or trying to reprimand her or force her to stay.

All (Y/n) would do was tell Bobby she was leaving. He could inform whoever necessary, he could say whatever he liked, he could tell them (Y/n) had caused a scene for all she cared. She just needed Bobby to tell Harper and whoever in management and she would make her own way home from here without being seen.

"Hey sweetheart, how are things going over there? Everything okay?" The edge of concern in Bobby's voice was overwhelming to (Y/n). He knew they couldn't always answer one another when they were on shift, but (Y/n) wasn't calling him from home. She was on shift, Bobby knew she would only be calling if she was panicked or needed calming down or some advice.

He answered. (Y/n) could of fainted with relief when she heard his voice. They were all at work, it wasn't always easy to answer phone calls when they were on shift. At least something was going right today.

The sound of his voice made a tidal wave of tears flush down (Y/n)'s face. She leaned forward and moved her free hand to cradle her temple as she swallowed down a cry. The last thing she wanted to do was cry down the phone to Bobby, but she couldn't seem to help it. She needed his help. She wanted his love and comfort, but she couldn't ask for that right now.

"I'm going home." She sniffed and tried not to sob through her words and hold herself together, but (Y/n) knew the sound of her voice gave away she was crying. And she could hear the deep breaths Bobby let out when he realised something was terribly wrong.

"You're going home? Why, baby what's wrong?"

"I can't do this, I- fuck, something happened. I'm going home, tell Harper. Please."

The trembling in her voice made Bobby bolt up from his desk and his free hand moved to rub and grip his jaw. What had happened while she had been away from him? What was wrong? Was she suddenly hurt or in pain? Had someone at that station done something out of line?

"Sweetheart you're starting to scare me, what's happened?" He couldn't do anything to help her unless she told him what was going on and what had happened while she had been at that station.

"Tell him I'm sick, Bobby p-please do something. I'm n… not speaking to any of them, I'm going out the back."

"Baby-"

Bobby could feel himself shaking when the line went dead. That didn't bode well at all.

(Y/n) said something had happened and she was going home, but she wanted Bobby to tell the Captain. She was sneaking out, that told Bobby his girlfriend was frightened or something- or someone, and that made his blood run cold and sent him reeling.

He would call Harper. He would call him right now and spin him a line that an emergency had happened here at the 118 and he had to call (Y/n) back over. He would make it work.

But then he was going straight home. He was going to find his girlfriend and find out what had happened today.

***

Panic was the only thing Bobby could feel and understand since (Y/n)'s phone call.

He knew he had panicked Hen when he told her she was temporarily in charge for the rest of the shift because he had something he had to deal with. And the phone call he'd had with Captain Harper had been brief but fuelled. Bobby told him there had been an emergency on his end and he had to call (Y/n) back.

Bobby didn't appreciate how Harper blatantly asked if (Y/n) had done something wrong for Bobby to recall her like that. He seemed to be under the impression that she was a bad worker or somehow untrustworthy and that rattled Bobby up the wrong way. It also assured him that something bad had happened to his girlfriend over at that station.

He hated how his hands started to shake when he tried to unlock the front door, but Bobby felt even more unstable when he turned the handle and realised the door wasn't even locked. At least that meant (Y/n) was home.

She had done as she told him she would, she had left and come home which meant at least she was somewhere safe and somewhere that Bobby could easily find her and try to help her with whatever was wrong.

"(Y/n)? Baby, are you okay?" He gave the door a swift kick shut once he was inside and he dumped his keys on the side table as he jogged through the hall. He wasn't too sure whereabouts (Y/n) would be. She could be upstairs, if she felt sick she could be in the bathroom or maybe she had gone to bed, although Bobby doubted that very much.

He tried his luck heading into the living room and he could of cried when he headed in and found her on the sofa.

She didn't look good.

(Y/n) was laid on the sofa on her right side, she had her knees pulled up tight to her stomach and her arms bound around her chest like she was trying to compact herself into a tiny shape. Her face was burrowed down into one of the cushions, but her body was subtly shaking and Bobby felt shivers scratching down his back when he realised she was crying.

His own body shook as he carefully knelt down on the carpet in between the sofa and the glass coffee table behind him. He gently folded his left arm over the edge of the sofa and reached his right hand out to begin gliding his fingertips up and down her arm.

"Sweetheart, can you please tell me what's happened today. Harper said you had a problem with the team but I don't believe that for a minute. Talk to me."

There was no way Bobby would believe anything that other Captain had told him. He didn't believe it when Harper said he was glad (Y/n) was going back because she had 'caused friction' within the team in the short time she had spent with them. And he hated how that Captain had portrayed (Y/n) and made her seem like a nuisance or a troublemaker.

Especially when he knew that Bobby was her partner.

Bobby had to know what happened today so he could do something about it and understand how to help her. Because right now, there wasn't a lot that he could do for her if he didn't know what was going on.

His fingertips glided up her arm, traced along her neck and moved to brush along her cheek and jaw. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip that was damp and wobbling, threatening to let a cry burst past her lips.

The way (Y/n) bleakly opened her eyes to look up at him made Bobby wince, but there was a certain, distant look in her eyes that worried him even more. It seemed to take her a few seconds to actually get her gaze to focus and settle on him and when (Y/n) reached out and clutched his wrist, her grip was ferocious and made Bobby tremble along with her.

"Talk to me," He murmured again and leaned over to press his lips to her temple that he noticed was flushed with sweat.

(Y/n) nuzzled her cheek into Bobby's touch and turned her head a little so she was no longer burrowed down into the cushion. She looked over at him with tired eyes that were welling up with tears. She wanted to sit up. (Y/n) wanted to slump forward off the sofa and land in Bobby's arms. She wanted to burrow down into him and have him wrap himself around her like a comforting blanket. But she couldn't gain enough strength to move.

"It was bad, they kept- they made jibes, that I was c-coming onto Harper," She couldn't find the will to look at Bobby as she spoke. And (Y/n) cringed when she heard Bobby mutter 'because of me' under his breath.

"Did something happen to you?"

He dreaded to ask. There were a million possibilities of what could have happened, and none of them were good. Bobby could feel his heart suffering palpitations at the mere thought that one of that team had tried coming onto (Y/n) and had subsequently hurt her in the process.

He prayed that wasn't the case. If it was, Bobby wasn't so sure he would be able to remain calm if he had to go to that station and make a complaint or go and talk to the chief. Bobby might start throwing fists for the first time since moving to LA if that were the case.

"I was evacuating people down the ladder, w-when one of the team slipped. He crashed into me, a-and I… I fell off the truck."

It had been an accident. (Y/n) didn't want Bobby thinking or believing that someone had purposely pushed her or tried to harm her. The most they had done before the incident was make rude comments and imply she might come onto any one- or any number- of them because she was 'sleeping with her Captain'. They made it sound as if she were trying to further her career by sleeping with Bobby. They didn't understand that (Y/n) had been in a relationship with him before she transferred to the 118.

But no one helped her. No one checked her over or took her to hospital or even cared that she had been in agony, that she was still in agony. They expected her to carry on working as if nothing was wrong, as if she were Wonder Woman and could recover from anything within a split second.

"You fell, like off the roof of the truck? What, onto the floor?" When (Y/n) hummed, a splutter of 'Oh God' passed Bobby's lips and he suddenly hit red alert.

He pushed up on his knees so he was leaning over her and he wormed one hand beneath her neck and held her arm with the other. He was as careful as he could be when he eased (Y/n) up so she was sitting up rather than lying down. He had to assess her. Bobby had to see if she had any injuries and find out how badly she was hurt.

"Did you hurt yourself? Who assessed you?"

A floodwave of tears poured down (Y/n)'s face and she started hiccupping through her cries which caused panic to flood Bobby's face. His hands moved to cup her face and he leaned forward so his lower abdomen was pressed into the edge of the sofa.

"Baby-"

"N-no one helped me." Each word came with a bubbling cry and (Y/n) moved her trembling hands to clamp down on Bobby's wrists. She leaned her temple against his but the movement caused her to whimper as searing hot flames licked at her temple and ignited throughout her head.

She wanted to go to sleep. She just wanted the pain to stop and to rewind time back to this morning, before all this mess occurred.

"I hit my head on the road, b-but Thompson dragged me up. They wouldn't l-let me be assessed. Harper s… said no free passes. Bobby, my head hurts so much. Make it stop, please."

(Y/n) desperately moved one of Bobby's hands from her cheek to make him cradle the back of her head where the pain made her feel like her head was blowing up like a balloon. It was getting worse. She needed it to stop, she wanted the pain to go away. Bobby had to do something to help her, she was desperate.

"Have you taken any meds?" Bobby tried his best to smooth down the rough edge to his voice, but he couldn't quite manage it.

How could they treat her like this?

How could that poor excuse for a team not look after (Y/n) when she had gone to help them? They were supposed to look out for each other and take care of one another as well as look after the public. If (Y/n) had been hurt she had every right to be assessed and go home on sick leave if she was hurt badly enough.

It wasn't the case that she wanted a free pass when she was clearly distressed and sobbing her heart out from the agony.

"A-after I was sick…" (Y/n) nudged her nose against Bobby's cheek and shakily pointed to the table where the packed of naproxen and sulphadine were opened.

She had taken both after she came home and threw up, but they weren't doing her much good. Her head was still throbbing like a drum, it still felt like she was going to explode and she couldn't keep her eyes open and it had been too hard to sit up. All she could do was flop onto her side like a fish and sob.

"You've been sick?"

Bobby turned to check what meds she had taken but when he looked back at her, a frown pulled on his stern features. His dark eyes narrowed and he carefully turned (Y/n)'s head to the right so he could look at her left ear.

Her ear was bleeding.

"Up, up come on baby." The stern tone was back in his rather demanding voice and the urgency behind his words flared up adrenaline and panic in (Y/n)'s stomach.

"Why?"

Her eyes couldn't keep focus on Bobby when he held her arms and loosely draped them around the back of his neck. But (Y/n) groaned when Bobby held her hips and stood her up in front of him. Her knees were buckling already, she didn't have the strength to keep herself up like this. She wanted to lie back down, her body couldn't cope with this.

(Y/n) dropped her forehead onto Bobby's shoulder, whimpering at how it made her temple throb and sent jolts through her trembling system.

The feeling of Bobby's hands cupping the back of her thighs sent shockwaves coursing through (Y/n) and she held her breath when his fingertips dug into her skin and he hoisted her up. Bobby wasted no time in looping (Y/n)'s legs over his hips so she was sat low on his torso with her chest merged up against his.

"You've got a bad concussion baby, I need to take you to the emergency room."

One arm stayed looped beneath (Y/n)'s thighs and his other hand pressed into the centre of her back to keep her steady and safe against him.

She had thrown up. Her head was still causing her agony. She couldn't keep focus or even stand up. And now she had blood dribbling from her ear. (Y/n) was suffering from a very severe concussion and Bobby had to get her down to the emergency room to get her checked over. She would need an MRI and a CT scan and some stronger pain meds.

She should have been checked over the moment she fell, not well over two hours later when she was starting to deteriorate.

He carefully moved one hand to check his phone and wallet were in his back pocket before he swiped his keys from the side table and swung open the front door. It had been a long time since Bobby had to make an emergency trip down to the hospital like this.

"Bobby…" (Y/n) twisted her head so her cheek slumped against Bobby's shoulder and her lips merged with his neck. Each breath she took fanned against his skin as he hurriedly locked the door and headed towards the car.

"It's okay sweetheart, we're gonna get you some help."

As soon as Bobby had (Y/n) down at the hospital and she had been checked out, he would be making a dozen phone calls.

And Chief Simpson was at the top of his list.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sex pollen!Bucky Barnes one shot

What a weird night.  Another mission blowing up an old Hydra base, ransacking it for information before the explosion.  You and Bucky had been scouring emptied shelves and desks.  All computers and hard drives had already been wiped clean.  As you explored you found a lone flower in a pot, sitting in the middle of an exam table in an abandoned lab.  

“What is this?” you wondered out loud, walking closer to the flower but not daring to touch it.  It looked otherworldly, a color that you could only describe as indigo with iridescent anthers that seemed to glow as you came closer.  You took a picture and sent it to headquarters.  A video call quickly came back within seconds of you sending the picture.

“Hey Shuri, what am I looking at?” you asked.

“DON’T TOUCH IT!  GET AWAY FROM IT!” she yelled, her eyes bulging through the screen.  You quickly stepped back, staring at it in fear.

“What the hell is going on?  What is it?” 

“We don’t have a name for it here on earth, the only way I can describe it is an alien aphrodisiac.  The anthers on it will shoot out a dust that will make the one who breathes it extremely aroused to the point that if they don’t…copulate quickly it could cause dangerously high heart palpitations, abdominal pain, even psychotic breaks.  It can severely hurt or even kill you.”

“An alien aphrodisiac?” you asked dumbly, staring at the flower again.  It was beautiful, and you could feel a strange pull to go up to it and desire to touch it.  Thankfully you had some sense of self-preservation.  “Okay, what do we do with it?”

“Just get out of there and blow the place.  The explosion should be enough to kill the plant.  I don’t know how Hydra was able to get one, but there’s a reason they left it behind.”

“Jesus, okay, we’re on it.  I’ll report back soon,” you ended the call then tried to get hold of Bucky.  “Buck, can you hear me?” you said, hitting the earbud in your ear.  Nothing.  You left the room, walking down the corridor to another side of the base to try to get a better signal.

“Bucky, do you read me?” you called more loudly.  You heard nothing but static.  “Dammit,” you grumbled.  You tried your phone since you’d been able to get hold of Shuri.  After two rings he answered the video call.

“Hey doll, where are you?” he asked, a strange glowing behind him.  Your eyes widened at the color of the glow. 

“Buck, where are you?”

He turned, showing the lab you were just in.  “This old lab, there’s this weird looking flower in here, we should probably bag it up and bring it in for testing,” he said, reaching a hand out to the flower.

“Bucky NO!” you screamed at your phone, already running back down the corridor.

It was too late.  A large puff of indigo dust poofed from the flower’s anthers, surrounding Bucky and making him cough violently.  By the time you reached the lab he was on his knees, dry heaving as the dust seemed to magically disappear into his skin.  

“Shit,” you swore, running in and pulling him away from the flower.  “We have to get out of here.  Did you set all the charges?”

Bucky was unresponsive, still coughing and holding his stomach as he tripped over his feet as you dragged him out of the room.  You grunted as you pulled him along back down the corridor, his arm hung over your shoulder.  

“Come on Buck, stay with me,” you reached a hand up and grabbed his chin to make him focus on you.  “Did you set the charges?!”

“Yeah,” cough, “yeah I got it,” his arm around your shoulder seemed to tighten as he doubled over in pain, his face getting dangerously close to yours, like he was nuzzling your cheek with his nose.  “What the fuck was that thing?”

“Ugh, I’ll explain once we’re out,” you ignored his close proximity, pulling him through the halls until you finally found the entrance, quickly loading yourselves into the quinjet.  As you placed him into a chair and buckled him in you noticed a sheen of sweat along his hairline.  You gingerly placed a hand on his forehead.  He was burning up.  “Shit,” you swore again.  When you turned away to start the jet Bucky groaned.

“Don’t, don’t leave me,” Bucky begged, his eyes screwed shut.  His metal hand was warping the arm of the chair.

“I’m right here, Buck, just gotta get us in the air,” you placate him, getting the jet moving then turning to him again.  “Where’s the remote for the charges?”

Bucky shifted in his seat, reaching towards his pants pocket but fumbling as his fingers trembled.  You quickly reached down and dipped your hand into his pocket.  Bucky moaned loudly as you touched him so close to his cock, which you just noticed was straining against his pants.  He still had the sense to look embarrassed as your eyes flashed to his face when he moaned, but you pretended like nothing happened as you took the remote and once you were a good distance away detonated the charges.  A loud boom reverberated as you flew away, taking out the base and the alien flower.

As you sank into the other chair and took a breath you called Shuri again.

“Shuri, it’s done, but we have a bit of a problem,” you started when her face showed up on the screen.

“Oh please don’t say what I think you’re going to say,” she pleaded, looking worried.

“Bucky wasn’t with me when I called you, so he didn’t know to stay away from the flower, and by the time I tried calling him there was no reception so I wasn’t able to tell him before he got too close to it.  It blew right in his face and now he’s–”

“Ungh!” Bucky moaned again, his flesh hand palming himself through his pants.  “What is this?  God, it burns everywhere!”

“Oh Bast,” Shuri swore.  “What are his symptoms?”

You stood back up, walking over to Bucky as he writhed in his chair.  “Sweating profusely, high temperature, abdominal pains…hey Buck, open your eyes, look at me,” you directed him.  He quickly responded to your voice, his eyes looking wild as he stared at you.  “Pupils are dilated, and uh, well, some major arousal from what I can see,” you finished quickly, looking away from his debauched gaze.  

“Damn, and it all started immediately upon breathing in the dust?” Shuri asked quickly, her body turned towards a screen that she was typing on.

“Yes, he was choking and dry heaving on it, and it seemed to, I don’t know, seep into his skin?  It was crazy,” you rushed out.  You felt a tug on your shirt, looking down and seeing Bucky’s metal fingers pulling on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull you closer to him.  “And now he’s trying to touch me,” you stated plainly.  

Shuri sighed, turning away from the screen she was looking at.  “There’s nothing else that can help him.  He needs to have sex as soon as possible or else he will get worse and worse until his heart or mind gives out.  And seeing how much his mind has gone through in the last 80 years, you don’t have much time,” she remarked gravely.  “I’m sorry I don’t have any better answers for you.  This is something that we’ve never had to deal with before.”

You sighed, feeling Bucky’s fingers grab onto your thigh and pull you closer to him.  “I get it, Shuri, thanks.  Just…turn off the cameras and speakers for the jet, please?”

Shuri nodded with a pitiful smile on her face.  “You got it, good luck.”

You hung up your phone and set it on the other pilot chair.  You glanced back at Bucky and saw him crying as his metal fingers dug into your thigh.  “Oh Buck, it’s okay,” you sank down onto your knees in front of him, your fingers wiping his tears.  

He sniffed hard.  “No, it’s not.  This isn’t okay.  I didn’t want it like this, this doesn’t give either of us a choice,” he cried, his metal fingers now rubbing the back of your neck.  He didn’t seem to have control over what his hands were doing as his flesh hand pushed harshly against his cock.  “It’s not fair.”

You nodded, “You’re right, it’s not fair, it’s not right.  But I’m not going to let you die.  It’s okay,” you reached your hand up and cupped his cheek again with your palm, which he happily hung his head into.  “You’re my best friend, my mission partner, and I’m not going to lose you to some alien fucking flower.  I want to help you, do you hear me?”

Bucky looked in your eyes deeply, looking for any hesitation.  He didn’t find it.  “Buck, I want to,” you reassured him resolutely.  “I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear.  He ripped the seat buckle off of him and stood quickly, pulling you up harshly from the floor and towards the back of the quinjet where there were a couple of rooms for resting.  He picked the one with the bigger bed and shoved you through the door.  As much as this situation was dire, you were also secretly excited.  The feelings you’d tamped down as a childish crush were now coming full front as you peeled your mission suit off, kicking your boots off to a corner and then helping him get out of all the buckles and straps on his outfit.  Once you were both naked he wasted no time in cupping your face in his hands and kissing you.  The kiss was desperate, his fingers digging into the softness of your cheeks, his lips moving against yours then biting your lower lip.  You gasped and he took his opportunity to stick his tongue in your open mouth, tasting your tongue and swirling it with his.  His hands quickly traveled down your body, feeling his way over each hill and valley of your curves, settling his flesh hand on your breast, tweaking the nipple making you moan, and his metal hand kneading your ass.  Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.  

Bucky picked you up and heaved the both of you onto the mattress, gently seating himself between your legs.  His hard cock was nestled against your stomach, the contact making him rut against you.  He grunted as you bit his lip in return, another thrust against your core making you arch your back.  He slipped his flesh hand between your bodies and felt around your lower lips, feeling the slick already building up.  He moaned at how wet you were for him, using some of that slick on his thumb to bring it to your clit and rub you.  You arched again, your hips thrashing as he flicked your clit and rubbed you harshly.

“Gotta get you ready for me,” he murmured, looking down at you and watching as he dipped two fingers into your pussy while his thumb kept busy on your clit.  The fill of his fingers made you moan loudly, your mouth dropping open and hands digging into the sheets below you.  He pumped his fingers lazily, his thumb doing all the work.  You could feel the orgasm coming embarrassingly quickly, your hips gyrating against his hand.

“Oh god, Buck, I’m gonna cum, ungh,” your breath hitched as he flicked harder.  The snap in your core was sudden, a yelp falling from your lips as you came on his fingers.  He let you ride out the orgasm and the aftershocks, pulling his fingers out gently then bringing them up to his mouth and sucking on your juices.  His eyes rolled back in his head as he licked his fingers clean.  The scene almost made you cum again.

“Fuck, you taste divine, doll,” he growled.  “Next time I’m gonna eat you out and pull as many orgasms from you as I can with my mouth.”

“Next time?” you breathed.

Bucky nodded as he shifted his hips and gripped his cock, lining himself up with your pussy.  “Yeah, next time.  Been wanting you for so long, doll.  Although this isn’t the way I wanted it,” he paused as he pushed in slowly, making you gasp, “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.  Jesus, you’re tight!”

Your hands gripped his biceps, fingernails digging into his flesh arm.  You tried to relax as he pushed slowly, trying to let you adjust even though you could tell he was struggling to go slow.  The sweat was almost pouring off him now, his pupils dilated so much that his eyes looked almost completely black, his temperature even hotter than before.  You worried that if he didn’t cum soon he’d pass out.  He was trying to be careful, but he didn’t need careful, he needed relief.

“Buck,” you whined, swiveling your hips.  He buckled as you moved, falling to his elbows above you.  “Move, please.  Just use me, honey.  I can take it.”

“No,” Bucky grunted, “I don’t want to use you.  You deserve better.”

“I know, hun, I know, but that’s not what you need right now.  I need you to take me, please,” you ran your fingers through his hair then gripped it harshly, pulling his head up to look at you.  He whimpered at your rough treatment, his eyes widening.  “Fuck me, Bucky.  Fuck me hard.”

His eyes seemed to glaze over as they narrowed at your words.  His brow furrowed with determination as he moved himself to a different position, holding up your hips and lifting your legs over his hips.  “Yes, doll,” he answered through gritted teeth.  He then thrust into you violently, causing you to scream.  He set a punishing pace, savagely driving himself into you as he chased his high.  All you could do was hold on, your fingers grasping the sheets or his arms.  You could feel the building orgasm in the pit of your pelvis as he hit your g-spot over and over.  As your pussy fluttered around him he suddenly twisted you around, still inside you as he flipped you to your front and rutted into you from behind.  The sound of skin slapping skin and gasping breaths filled the cabin as you moaned, trying to keep your hips up as he drilled you into the mattress.

“Bucky, oh baby, yes!” you cried, tears starting to form in your eyes.  The new position made him reach even further inside you, making you see stars with each thrust.  Your peak kept getting higher and higher until you finally fell, screaming his name as you came around him.  Bucky shuddered as you came, your pussy convulsing around his cock, making him cum with a shout.  He kept thrusting into you as he pumped you full of his cum, mumbling your name repeatedly.  The flower dust had made him so incredibly horny that he kept cumming more than he normally would, making a mess as it overflowed from your pussy to the mattress below.

You both stilled as you calmed down from your highs, more dribbling out of you as you tried to regain your breathing.  Bucky slowly pulled out, a squelching noise coming from your pussy as you both groaned, more cum dripping from your aching hole.  You fell onto the mattress, your legs periodically shaking and arms splayed above your head.  Bucky laid on the mattress next to you, breathing heavily.  

After a few moments you shifted to your side facing Bucky.  His eyes were closed, his mouth open as he breathed, his hair matted to his forehead from all the sweating.  You reached out and moved some of his wet hair from his eyes.  His eyes fluttered open at the feeling of your fingers.  He looked at you with shining eyes, looking thoroughly fucked.  You giggled at him, and he gave you a lopsided smile back.

“You feel better?” you asked slyly.

“Yes,” he chuckled.  “Thank you, doll.  I’m sorry I put you in this position,” he started, moving to his side to face you as well.

“Buck, it’s okay–”

“Will you go out with me?” he asked hurriedly.  You blinked as your mind caught up to what he said.  He watched you carefully as you processed what was happening.

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, closing the distance between you and kissing his cheek.  It was very innocent considering you were both still naked.  He smiled and took your free hand in his, giving your fingers a squeeze then bringing them to his lips and gave them a kiss.  

“I know it’s too early, but um, I love you,” he confessed.  “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Your smile widened, your hand squeezing his hand back.  “I love you, too, Buck.  Probably too much.”

Bucky recoiled, “What do you mean too much?  How could you love this,” he gestured to his body, “too much?”

You doubled over in laughter, slapping his chest as you straightened out after a minute.  “You’ve been hanging out with Sam too much,” you laughed, wiping your eyes.

He laughed along with you, grimacing at the sound of Sam’s name.  “Please don’t say Sam’s name while you’re naked in bed with me.  It just doesn’t feel right.”

You laughed again, this time trying to stifle it behind your hand.  “Okay, I’m sorry…Barnes,” you teased him.  His eyes narrowed at you.  “Or should I call you James?”  he minutely shook his head.  “Okay, how about…Sergeant?”  His eyes widened.  “Oooh, did I find a kink?” you giggled.  “How about, sir?”

Bucky pounced on you, encircling you in his arms and tickling your sides.  You squirmed against him as you screamed his name.

“That’s right, doll, that’s what I want to hear.  You screaming my name,” he growled in your ear as he let up on the tickling.  “Just Bucky is fine.”

“Haha, okay, okay…Bucky,” you said his name sensually.

Bucky moaned, rolling his eyes.  “Don’t start, or else we’re never leaving this cabin.”

“Who said I was ready to leave?” you teased him again, your fingers scratching down his chest.  His hips jutted forward as you flicked his nipples lightly.

“Okay, you asked for it,” he warned.  

[revelboo]

More Transformers x Reader Headcanons

Various Transformers thoughts and nonsense

Soundwave/Blaster

• Cassette carriers can make a very specific crooning sort of purr that’s meant to soothe or coax unruly cassettes. Most of the time it’s not even a conscious thing. Which isn’t a problem except around humans. Because of our size, we can trigger that instinctive sound by accident if we’re upset. Even if the Cybertronian doesn’t even particularly like us or care for us at the time, leading to some… awkwardness.

Earthspark Soundwave

• “Silence,” he snarls, looming over you, big servos flexing in what you’d already figured out was an empty threat. Big and scary won’t actually hurt you, just threatening when you’re getting on his nerves. Aware of the cassettes watching the exchange, of Lazerbeak glaring at you in an attempt to telegraph how bad an idea it is, you know he’s right. But pushing Soundwave’s buttons is just too fun.

• “Or what? You can’t actually make me do anything, can you?” You just grin up at him. Insolent, little brat. Striding after you, he sees you glance back at him and the exact moment your attitude falters. Lunging for you as you scream and run. Aware of how undignified this is as his cassettes watch the drama. Seizing you as you kick and fight against him, he’s not sure what to do know. Just wants you to shut up. Not try to pick fights at every turn. “What are you doing? Are you purring?” The shaky question makes him freeze in horror. Realizing he is crooning at you like he would a cassette. Snarling, he releases you and you stumble away, staring up at him as Frenzy makes a strangled noise trying not to laugh. Because he didn’t just do that for a human. For you especially.

• They’re also very likely to try to carry a human around in their cassette compartment for safety, but also because they like having your warmth there. It can also be a way of ending an argument, picking you up and placing you inside like an errant cassette until you cool down, while crooning at you.

Body Language

• Cybertronians with wings/ door wings do unconsciously telegraph their emotions with them, but while wings lifted up is a sign of aggression in a Seeker, it’s a friendly or alert gesture in nonflyers. And can cause misunderstandings.

• Antenna can function much the same way and tend to be sensory appendages and, as such, very sensitive. The way they flick or move making them targets for curious humans. Touching a Cybertronian’s antenna because they’re cute comes across as an invitation to interface or can cause aggression. Or both.

TFP Shockwave

• Feet silent as you move closer to where his head is resting on his outstretched arm, you bend to check that his single optic is dim. Falling asleep at his desk while working isn’t exactly anything new, but staring up at the screen of alien gibberish, the graphs, and diagrams, you really wish you could make sense of it as you wrap your arms around yourself. Movement draws your attention back to him as his antenna flick in his recharge. You’d decided they look like bunny ears at some point, but haven’t dared to point that out to him. Doubt he’d be pleased to hear you call him cute.

• Shuddering as he comes awake to the feel of soft little hands playing with his antenna, his optic flares, arm shifting to flatten you against his head with a warning growl. Hears your little squeak of surprise as you grab onto his antenna for balance and his whole frame shivers. Can’t move, his cannon pressing against your back to pin you against him. Torn between the desire to encourage that touch and the urge to drop you and back away, because it feels too good.

Seekers

• When under extreme duress, Seekers will hiss, the noise typically accompanied by a whistling from their turbines that’s meant to call their trine for help.

• Seekers naturally gravitate toward forming trines and can be aggressive to outside trines, but several trines will band together against a common threat. In Everything is Alright, the elite trine is broken. True Romance is a better example of a healthy trine dynamic. In Everything is Alright’s universe, I’d intended to use the Rainmakers as an example of the normal dynamic, but made the True Romance alternate take instead. The drive to form trines in Seekers is so strong, they can also unconsciously form trines with non-Seekers if they’re around the other Cybertronians constantly, though they’re unlikely to admit to the mental association, finding it embarrassing.

Rainmakers

• There’s no such thing as alone time, not even resisting when an arm curls around you and drags you back into a warm frame. Shivering when your hair begins to float, and a mouth finds your throat. “Missed you,” Ion Storm murmurs, your skin prickling wherever he touches you. Even though it’s only been hours by your estimate since you last saw him. Hear Acid Storm make a low, rumbling noise of amusement from where he’s setting out energon cubes for them and food for you.

• About to walk by, Nova Storm reaches out to touch a stray strand of your staticky hair. Giving in to impulse and moving to pin you between him and Ion Storm, relaxing at the feel of your much cooler body against his own. “Fuel first,” Acid Storm growls without any real heat. Making a sound of acknowledgment, he cups your throat and tips your face up toward his, mouth brushing yours as you soften against him, relaxing into the heat of his touch. “I know you two can hear me.”

Mixed Signals

• Especially a problem with more aggressive Cybertronians- when arguing humans will sometimes just walk away to get some space to calm down. Unfortunately, that can come across as an invitation to follow with Decepticons in particular. A challenge. Continuing to ignore them or avoid them, upping their aggression and even seen as flirting or attempts to get their attention.

TFP Megatron

• “Where are you going?” That low, angry growl makes the hair at your nape prickle. He has a point though, trapped on his berth with the mass displaced mech, there’s nowhere to actually go. Except away from him right now, because you’re over arguing with him. Need to calm down and for him to just leave you alone for a minute. Which isn’t happening when you hear his heavy peds following you.

• Stalking after you as you ignore him, that aggression shifts and heats, becoming hunger. Catching your arm to force you to stop, you spin towards him, palm smacking against his face. “Don’t you dare, I’m angry with you.” Growling, he hauls you off your feet against him, chuckling when you slap him again and his spike stirs at your defiance. Wonders who you’re trying to convince, him or yourself as his mouth crashes down on yours.

• Decepticons and Autobots are often taken off guard when humans do something they think is cute. Yawning, sneezing, the way we get flustered are all fascinating to some of them, making them try to provoke reactions. Decepticons especially, have trouble dealing with humans being affectionate or sweet. Gently stroking their helm or curling up against them can be so unexpected they may gently bite in reprimand just because they don’t know how to respond.

• Humans tend to be tactile and want to touch everything. Cybertronians not used to this can be taken off guard when trying to offer a human a ride in their alt mode. Not realizing we’ll touch anything in reach, admiring them without understanding how sensitive their interiors are. These are surfaces that are never really handled. More of them will just tolerate the touch if it’s a familiar human, while others will forcibly eject them or snarl at them not to touch. Especially if the touch comes across as intimate.

Bluestreak

• Struggling to focus on the road as you run your fingers against his dash, shifting distractingly in his seat, a hand on his shifter, Bluestreak swallows a whine. “It’s so wild. I can’t believe the amount of detail you incorporated,” you say, a fingertip tracing a tooled leather seam to make him shudder all over. “Um, are you okay?” No. Not at all. And far too embarrassed to actually say anything because he’s not sure if he’d ask you to stop or beg you to keep touching him with those soft hands.

[drak3n]

TATTOO ARTIST/PIERCER!CHOSO

CONTENT WARNINGS: unestablished relationship, smut, public sex, mentions of body modifications, cunnilingus, implied blowjob at the end, choso has a prince albert-, tongue- and a vertical eyebrow piercing

sena’s note: i know there’s a lot of tattoo artist choso already but i folded — anywaysss up next is my man gojo 🖤

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who was very well-known for his talent despite being so young; who was always pretty gifted with his hands and used peoples’ skin like a canvas, gracing it with the prettiest designs, simple and small, or detailed and large

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who shared a studio with a few fellow tattoo artists and piercers, but had a goal of having his own studio someday

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who had just finished a 5h back piece on his last client and walked towards the front desk to retrieve his cigarettes and take a break, just for his hooded, brown eyes to set on you

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who saw you standing next to your friend and encouraging her to hand in her data sheet for her tattoo, and who watched as your friend was immediately guided into one of the rooms by a tattoo artist, just to leave you all by yourself

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who came back from smoking minutes later to see you sitting on one of the leather seats, flipping through pages of the shop’s magazine that showed many different designs of tattoos, and also piercings

“you want to get anything done?”

nearly flinching at the cold voice sounding a couple of feet away from you, your eyes met choso’s, who was leaning against the wall, revealing fully tattooed forearms through his loose-fitted t-shirt. he looked very… unique, to say the least.

“oh, no, i’m just waiting for a friend,” you smiled kindly, “she’s getting tattooed right now. think it’ll take some time.” you felt guilty that you stared at the man like he was some kind of alien. his features were just really captivating, the plethora of tattoos peeking out from his short sleeves and from the collar leaving little to the imagination that they continued even beneath that shirt.

his eyebrow tattoo shone under the light, but when he opened his mouth, your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of a tongue piercing.

you suddenly remembered what they said about guys with tongue piercings, and felt deeply ashamed about getting such thoughts about a hot stranger.

“come,” he invited you towards the room he usually worked in, “you’ll get bored here. you’ll get a piercing on the house.” he didn’t know why he offered that. maybe, just maybe it was because he didn’t want the other piercers and tattoo artists to charm you first.

at the end of the day, you left the studio with your freshly tattooed friend and a pierced nose.

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who hoped you’d walk in again, and whose shoulders nearly slumped in disappointment upon seeing your friend coming in by herself a few days later to get her tattoo checked, without your company

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who — totally on accident — saw that the studio had been tagged in multiple stories on instagram, one of which being yours, a spontaneous picture taken of your side profile that showcased the gem he had pierced into your cute nose

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who absolutely didn’t follow you after that, just to see mere minutes later that you did, and before he could stop himself, he followed you back

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who really wasn’t the best texter, which left you wondering if you should even try and talk to him at all; whose eyes went wide in surprise when you waltzed into the studio to get your thigh tattooed weeks later

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who showed you that same day how it felt to get eaten out by someone with a tongue piercing

“c—choso… fuck— what if someone—”

your hand clamped in front of your mouth to stifle a moan threatening to force itself out when the ball of metal on choso’s wet muscle bumped against your bundle of nerves. you were seated on the couch he’d previously tatted on, both of your bare legs thrown over his shoulders as he feasted on your delicious pussy.

“let them,” he spoke gruffly into your cunt as his tattooed hands dug into the underside of your thighs. he didn’t hide the smirk displaying on his lips at the way you drooled from the sensation of his piercing coolly gliding against your wet pussy lips.

“c’mon. use your words. i’ll let you cum if you do.”

“pleasepleaseplease let me cum… please choso.”

“cute. you want to feel what the piercing on my dick feels like?”

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who totally did make you beg on his thick dick adorned with a shiny prince albert piercing, and who couldn’t even be mad at you when you flashed him a tongue piercing you had gotten at another studio to surprise and make him see stars just like he’d done for you

[pinkanonwrites]

Thinking about the concept of cloth or soft things in general being considered luxury to cybertronians, and just imagining one using their holoform to enter a bedroom for the first time. There a big soft berth that sinks under their weight, an entire pile of warm insulating plush fabric, and even more small soft pads that they put their heads on! Could you imagine their reaction to a carpeted room? They even put soft things on the ground they walk on! It would be like looking at one of ridiculously luxurious mansions that are so loaded up with fancy things that it almost looks like a parody

This conjured up a little idea in me with ROTB Mirage, enjoy!

"Watch your shoulders on the-!"

CRUNCH

"...Door frame." So much for getting your deposit back. Mirage shot you a crooked grin, brushing some of the sheet-rock dust off of his shoulder pauldron.

"Sorry 'bout that, sweetspark. No big deal, you can patch that up no problem!"

When Noah had told you that Mirage was able to change his size you had only partially believed him. After all, according to his own stories, the Mirage that was barely larger than Noah in Peru had also had several significant pieces blasted off of his gargantuan frame. And yet, here he was. Fully repaired, mass-shifted to a mere seven-and-a-half feet tall. And sure, he still had to stoop to avoid taking out your ceiling fan. But here he was, in your meager apartment.

It was an equally unfamiliar locale for Mirage himself, having only caught peeks of your living quarters from the alleyway outside. The shag carpet was plush under his pedes, ridiculously soft to the touch. And sure, he'd owned a few of his own garments back in the Towers, in pre-war time, but it still paled in comparison to your room with its thick curtains, fluffy carpeting, and the dozen or so plush organic creatures littering your bed.

"Do you wanna listen to something? You can sit on the bed, if you want. You're probably too big for my desk chair." You were already rifling through your tapes, gesturing to the bed with your free hand and currently oblivious to Mirage's wide-optic stare. He took a careful seat on the edge and Primus, the entire mattress sunk and molded around his bulky frame. It was heavenly. He took one of your stuffed animals between his servos and squeezed, marveling at the squish.

"Man, I can't believe y'all live like this!" He laughed, draping himself backwards onto your bed with a warning creak. "It's comfy, that's for sure. But I don't think I could sleep on somethin' like this. It might swallow me up mid-recharge. And what's with all these little soft organics?"

"Says the guy who sleeps on the floor of a garage. I'd have aches in muscles I didn't even know existed." You pressed Talking Heads 'Speaking In Tongues' into the player with a familiar click, the beginning lick of Burning Down The House echoing through the tinny speaker as you flopped down next to Mirage. "And you're strangling Hello Kitty. They're cute, and soft, and that's kind of all there is to it? Kids like to play with them, too."

"Huh! Cute. Seems like your style. The whole hab seems like your style, actually. All soft and shit. " He handed you back your slightly-dented Hello Kitty, letting out a lazy ex-vent as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. "Well what should we do now?~ You got me all the way up into your berth, aren't you gonna do somethin' about it?"

You barked out a laugh, turning your head to see Mirage's playfully smarmy grin aimed down at you. "Was that your ploy? Show off your cool alien shape-shifting just so you could get in my bed?"

"That depends. Is it working?~"

"Maybe.~"

[lovelyiida]

ミ★ IMAGINE KATSUKI SECRETLY KNOWING HOW TO SPEAK ENGLISH | once a year, ua hosts a program where rivaling schools in the area are allowed to stay for a month and experience being at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. And your school just so happened to be selected!

[ask based series, don’t be shy!]

you and a selected handful of students were allowed to be apart of class 1-A for the time being. It was almost otherworldly once you walked in. Almost as if you were an alien greeting its foreign counterparts.

From your uniform, to the way you styled yourself—you were obviously a different sight never before seen.

Silently walking over to a random desk, you sit down and look ahead. Trying your hardest to grasp the lecture being spoken in a whole other language. You fought through with incoherent hums and shy nods.

Soon the bell rings and everyone (except your group because you literally have no idea what’s going on) jolts from their seats. Groups of students start to surround you.

Looking at each one you try your hardest to respond to them. From think accents and broken sentences—all you could do was politely nod.

“Leave em’ some space, damn it!”

Looking over, you see a random blonde burst in what you believe was anger. The group of students fade away and begin to innocently heckle your classmates instead.

The blonde walks over to you, looking down he begins to study your frame. Eyes leading from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. He dryly chuckles before speaking “nice shoes.”

Okay, that you could understand.

“Thanks! Like your belt,” you smile at the blonde before he gave you a nod of approval. “Don’t let those losers get so close, some of them do bite.” He says with a playful smirk.

Standing from your seat you chuckle at his words. “Wouldn’t be surprised,” the class watched as the both of you walked out of the room together, curious as to why Katsuki of all people was talking to you.

“So…what’s your name?” You asked.

“Bakugo Katsuki, but just call me Katsuki” he says, with a nod you held out your hand.

“My name is Y/n L/n, nice to meet you” you say with a warm smile. Katsuki reaches out and shakes your hand.

“Don’t get too used to me, you’re only gonna know me for a month” he deadpanned before retracting his hand back into his pocket. You couldn’t help but to scoff at his words.

“A lot can happen in a month, you never know—the universe could’ve led me to you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

What Katsuki didn’t tell you is that he’s been secretly studying English for years since the entrance exam. Kinda because he’s an All Might nerd and wanted to speak English just like him—but I digress…

Katsuki was almost excited that the program was happening. Since he didn’t know how to test out his skills beforehand. And he was also, kinda excited when he met you. Seeing that he didn’t butcher his words like how Denki did when he tried to ask you for your name.

So yeah, a lot can happen in a month.

Katsuki was down.

Okay so, I kinda wanna make this into a thing where you guys can come out with your own scenarios and I can write them out for you!! I’ve been day dreaming about this for a long time and I wanna see it come into fruition. So don’t be shy to ask!!!

— lovelyiida ❤︎︎

TAGLIST:

[carionto]

Sudden impact

Sitting at their office desks, doing bureaucracy and papers, there was one particular item some of these workers had just below their desks.

Out of the corner of their ocular nostril, Frak'na-Tu spotted another Human looking around the corner at Tu's colleagues. Uncertain as to the specific meaning of the squinted eyes and crouched stance, Tu decided to not question it again. The panic caused by the 'tickling' incident had taught the non-Human employees to just leave them be.

That is, until Tu saw the sneaky Human pull out a large light blue cylindrical object from behind their back and slowly approach Human Allan, who was standing by the water cooler busily rewording a message to their one-sided love interest for the past twelve minutes.

Emily, as Tu finally noticed the name tag on the sneaky Human, was only a few feet away from Allan. Steadily, she pulled the cylinder in her hand behind her back in a striking position!

Tu began to panic - was this about to be a mad assault, or is there something about their relationship that is causing this form of revenge, or perhaps it's just another one of those 'normal' things that seem insane to aliens?

Before Tu could process every possibility, their co-worker Trevan had sprung from their chair, a similar red cylinder in hand, and already intercepted Emily's strike towards Allan!

Seconds later, nearly every Human in the office had pulled out these objects and engaged in horrifying combat with workers from Emily's department who had apparently been even sneakier than her, as a few jumped out from the opposite side of the cubicles.

The shouting, the stomping of feet, shuffling of office furniture - true carnage had descended upon the Logistical Management Appropriations Office. All non-Human were left stumped and stunned by this inexplicable outburst as the Humans had, in a somehow very organized way, chaotically moved to the far more open lounge space to 'duke it out'.

Strike after strike, as the shock subsided for most and the light bonking sounds from the suspiciously weak and somewhat theatrical movements, the Humans started to 'fall down' but not before saying things like "Avenge me, Michael! Duncan is a douche... bleh" and "Hey, HEY! Watch it! It's a fair strike, but c'mon, manners. Also, 'Oh no, I'm dead, woe is me.'"

After what felt like eternity, but in reality was perhaps seven-eight minutes, everyone but Allan was left standing, who was still holding his phone, one finger trembling over the send button. After a few more seconds, he swiped over and deleted the message, looked at the 'dead' bodies and picked up one of the cylinders.

Then he declared in a dramatic voice nobody in the office knew he could pull off: "Rise once more, my brothers and sisters. Rise! RISE AND BASK IN THE GLORY OF VALHALLA!!!"

As everyone started getting up and engaging in small talk as if nothing had happened, Tu and the rest of the non-Humans were left speechless by this... whatever it was. None of the Humans bothered explaining anything, but when asked simply said: "Julia from accounting accidentally ordered these things some weeks ago, and one stray thought led to another, today just felt like the right time to have some fun with the bonk sticks."

[spookyrea]

Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?)

Everyone keeps pointing out the fact that Loki can't keep his hands off of you - but that's just the kind of guy he is, right? Right...? (Or: the one where Loki keeps giving you mixed signals and you decide to take matters into your own hands. To mixed results.) Chapter 1 / 2 to read on AO3, click here

The office was empty and drearily dark; the sun had only barely crossed the horizon, bathing the 27th floor of the Avengers Tower in a deep purple haze. The early morning silence was tempered only by the sound of rain pattering against the window and the occasional rumble of the metro a couple blocks away. It was the kind of morning best enjoyed in bed under a mountain of blankets - not filling out cost-analysis reports.

Fury had had you out in the field for three weeks straight on consecutive missions, meaning you had returned home -  bruised, exhausted, dreaming of clean sheets and hours of mindless television -  to a veritable mountain of paperwork. Paperwork that you probably could have finished by now - or, at least, made way more progress on - if it weren’t for your resident distraction-on-legs.

Loki rearranged himself in the seat across from you; the toe of one of his meticulously polished shoes bumped against your sneaker, bullying its way between your feet to hook around your ankle. Your desk lamp cast a warm golden glow across his cheeks, accentuating the long line of his nose and the narrow cut of his jaw. His hair, usually so meticulously styled, was loose and curling wildly.

You signed off on the file in front of you, pointedly ignoring the warm flush that crept along the back of your neck, and added it to the mounting pile to your left.

Not twenty minutes after you’d settled in at your desk, Loki had strolled out of the elevators into the office. With all the magnificent theatrics he could muster, he’d thrown himself into the chair opposite yours - his chair - and plucked up the paperback he’d left dogeared a fortnight ago.

(Loki had a desk, kitty-corner to yours in the Avengers semi-circle. He seemed to prefer to sit at yours and complain about the lack of space.)

Not that it mattered where he sat. Your eyes seemed intrinsically magnetized to him; to the dark curls that brushed his jaw; to the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. You could spend hours watching the meticulous flick of his wrist when he crossed his t’ s, or the way his fingers deftly rolled his cufflinks free to turn his sleeves up. 

Or, like you were doing right now; your pen hovered lamely over your paper while you admired him through the fan of your eyelashes, fixated on the way his index finger and thumb rolled the corner of one page as he read.

“Particularly interested in fourteenth-century extraterrestrial poetry, are we?” Loki intoned. Your eyes darted up to find that his were already on you, watching with a peculiar expression. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that he wasn’t human, but up this close there was a preternatural edge in his eyes that pinned you in place.

“No,” You replied quickly. Flustered, you flipped a random dossier open and scanned it over, adding the appropriate signature on every other page. Loki’s eyes burned a hole in the side of your face - you could practically feel the patronizing arch of his brow. “Just tired. Zoning out. You know. What was the name of the knife you let me borrow?”

“Earthbreaker.”

“Right, thank you.” You jotted the name down under Resources Returned With. It was the only weapon you’d not lost in Shanghai; all your other daggers and close-combat tools had been dissolved by an alien gunk that ate through Earthly metals like sugar in water. Loki had sliced the offending creature’s head clean off its shoulders before flipping the knife around to you, hilt-first. 

You did not, however, mention the pocketful of extra-terrestrial stones Loki had shared with you after the fact - but you knew from experience that Finance didn’t care about Loki’s magpie-like tendencies.

( These were very rare on Asgard. Courtiers sometimes sewed them into their sleeves as symbols of status.

They’re beautiful.

Yes, he’d agreed. But I think they’d look better against your arm, no?)

You finished off a comment on page seven and tucked your report into the Shanghai, Domestic (Earth) Threat folder. Despite Tony’s seemingly endless pockets, the Avengers finance department was meticulous about tracking your spending, which required an extreme detail when justifying any and all decisions made out in the field.

(It probably had something to do with the Berlin Incident, where a stray explosive arrow and a couple hundred tons of Hulk had cost Stark Enterprises a few hundred million dollars. Which, you would like to remind everyone, was not your fault. You were off a few blocks away wrestling mutant bat-dog-horses away from some celestial object intent on challenging Thor for his hammer.)

Loki materialized something out of thin air and slipped it between the pages of his book. “I think a break is in order, pet.”

“It’s only been forty-five minutes.” 

He flicked an errant curl out of his eyes while leveling you with a truly magnificent pout. “Forty-five agonizing minutes.”

“You haven’t even done anything today.”

“I’ve been keeping you company. It’s exhausting work. Really - I have a sudden appreciation for the court jesters back home.”

“Well your jester routine could use some work.”

Loki gasped. “I’ll have you know I am a wonderful jester.”

With a syrupy petulance, Loki plucked the folder from your hands and handed it off to the little robot Tony had assigned to the bullpen - the Paperwork Assistant Lite, or PAL for short. PAL shot off with a chirp, zipping on his tiny treads, the security badge on his chassis swinging merrily behind him.

You tried to tug your foot away in retaliation but Loki was faster. His other foot slid along the side of your shoe until your ankle was trapped between both of his. You twisted in his grip but with a quick yank Loki had you teetering on the edge of your seat. He leaned across the desk and bracketed your forearms with his. “Yield.”

You blew out a breath and screwed your face up in mock defiance. “No.”

“Do not force my hand, mortal.” His eyes shone a brilliant green and a crackling bolt of seidr whispered across your wrists warningly. He plucked your pen from your hand and tossed it aside carelessly. “Yield.”

“You’ll run out of things to throw eventually.” You swatted ineffectually at his calf with your other foot.

“And when that happens, it will be you I put over my shoulder.”

He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You could hear the storm outside swelling; the rain was deafening, the wind rattling the glass in its frame. The desk groaned under his weight as he leaned in just a hair closer. Your breath caught in your chest as his mouth parted, lips shiny where he’d chewed them in contemplation. “You’ll yield one day, pet.”

The train rumbled along in the distance.

Twenty-seven stories below, a car horn blared.

Your pinky brushed the inside seam of Loki’s sleeve, and the whisper of skin on wool seemed deafening.

Loki fell back in his seat with a shove and loosened his grip. He slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “What if I promise to leave you alone. On the condition that you let me buy you breakfast.”

You blinked at him. “Alone-alone? Or ‘alone for ten minutes before you blow up the coffee machine’ alone?”

He nodded grimly. “Alone-alone.”

You sank back in your chair. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that the smarter, more sensible part of your brain cautioned you about. When you didn’t immediately respond, he offered his hand and wiggled his fingers enticingly.

“Fine.” As soon as you acquiesced, Loki unfolded from his chair and rounded the desk. He had already pulled your jacket off the back of your chair in the time it took you to locate your security badge and was holding it out for you. He helped you slip your arms in and straightened the collar so it lay flat across your shoulders. “But I fully intend on eating you out of house and home.”

He grinned. “Only the best for my little mortal.”

Loki stood at mock attention, his body ramrod straight but eyes slitted rebelliously, and offered you his arm. You rolled your eyes but did not deny yourself the luxury of folding your hands over his bicep.

Sleepy beams of sunlight filtered through the gaps between high-rises, drowned out by sheets of rain. The first few commuters were filtering along the sidewalk, heads bowed and shoulders up to block out the chill. Loki magiced an umbrella from nowhere and drew you in tightly. The cover it provided was cramped, giving you an excuse to tuck into his side. 

The two of you made the three-block journey to your usual coffee shop in companionable silence. It wasn’t until he had deposited you safely under the store’s awning that he dropped your arm, only to usher you inside with a hand on your back.

The shop was a hole-in-the wall, the kind of place without any seating except for a few mismatched tables in the back. Narrow enough that you could almost touch either wall if you stretched hard enough. But the coffee was good and the food even better, and on freezing mornings like this it was a welcome distraction from the sharp cold outside. 

Your usual barista, Yvonne, barely glanced up when you entered. Her dark eyes flickered knowingly between the two of you, lingering on the casual way Loki thumbed the seam of your coat sleeve.

“Morning,” She pulled open the pastry display and piled an assortment into a paper bag for you. “Coffee will be just a second. You want to try something new today?”

Loki was already nodding, sliding a stack of bills across the laminated countertop. To you, he said: “pick whatever you want, pet,” and then slipped to the end of the bar to wait for your drinks.

Yvonne dipped into the kitchen before returning with a little plastic container. “It’s a new recipe but we’re not sure if we’re going to sell it yet. Let me know what you think.”

You smiled and accepted the box, along with a paper bag containing your usual orders - a bagel for you and a couple of honeyed pastries for Loki. You and Loki were the only patrons in the shop, so you didn’t feel too bad lingering at the register. Yvonne leaned her forearms on the counter and poked your forearm. “So how’s it going with… you know.”

You took a forlorn bite of your bagel and cast your eyes to the end of the bar. Loki was chatting with the other barista, leaning over the counter to whisper something conspiratorially to her. She hung off of every word which, how could you blame her. He was, after all, charming and handsome and princely and a notorious flirt.

It was no secret that Loki thrived off of attention. When he had first arrived in his brother’s tow he’d been nothing but easy grins, sandwiched between Thor and Banner. It only took a week before Loki was grudgingly accepted after helping to stop the Bad Guy of the Week in a fishing town in New Brunswick, Canada and saving Natasha’s life, and it only took a year and another brush with near-death - which involved Loki using his seidr to literally hold Steve’s insides inside - for him to gain some leeway among the team. 

Which he abused immediately.

He was a terror. He was unpredictable, constantly underfoot, and he and Thor spent just as much time brothers-in-arms as they did at eachothers’ throats. He flirted his way out of most scrapes and connived his way out of the rest. Meaning - he absolutely thrived.

You had all come to rely on having him in your back pocket for missions. He was a great strategist and an even better fighter - even if he gave Tony a run for his money in the obnoxiousness department.

And you liked him. You really liked him - liked his company, liked his dry sense of humor. You liked the way your stomach swooped every time you heard his voice from around the corner, and how your heart clenched whenever he shot you a private smile during briefings. He was a great sparring partner and he seemed to have a sixth sense for when you needed a pep talk. But his attention never settled on you the way it did on marks or pretty secretaries or baristas.

A larger-than-insignificant part of you understood that what Loki liked about you was how your focus never waned. He liked the attention - for his little mortal to fawn over him. 

You’d thought he’d been interested at first, in the week after he’d saved Natasha. 

The touching. 

The pet names.

And then months went by and you watched him flirt with anything that breathed. And, on one occasion, something that didn’t.

“I still think he likes you,” Yvonne said. “He practically hangs off of you. Like one of those little baby sloths in a Dodo video.”

“That’s just Loki,” you said around a mouthful of bread. You’d confided in her a few weeks prior about your little crush in a moment of weakness and she, like Natasha, had taken to the cause like a dog to a bone. “He’s like that with everyone. I mean - look at him. He doesn’t really like me like that.”

The doorbell chimed, and Yvonne pushed away with a dramatic sigh. “He’s an ass then. Not worth it.”

“Who’s not worth what?” Loki sidled up beside you, coffee cups balanced in either hand. Yvonne shot you a look and waved the question away. You said a hurried goodbye and let Loki corral you into the deluge outside.

Heavy droplets of rain battered the pavement. Cars trudged along through broad trenches of water. Sliding his arm around your waist, Loki steered the two of you back the way you came. He held you tightly against his side to keep you both under the umbrella, so that your hips bumped with every other step and you could feel the heat coming off his coffee cup at your elbow. You took a sip of your own drink to distract yourself.

“Oh, I think you gave me your drink by mistake.” You pulled the cup away to check the label. Instead of an order, you found a ten-digit phone number scrawled in thick black marker.

“Terribly sorry, pet.” You didn’t miss how Loki’s grip tightened on your forearm when you strayed a little too far from the umbrella. He swapped your drinks, then made a disinterested noise. “I have to admire her bravery. I mean, it was clearly a stupid decision, but brave none the less.”

“Oh, be nice. The poor girl can’t help being charmed by your wiles.”

“I am devilishly charming, aren’t I?” Loki jostled you with his shoulder. You swallowed a sigh when he turned his nose into your cheek, his hot breath fanning over your jaw. “But I’m clearly not interested.”

“Loki,” you chided. “Your idea of clearly not interested is most peoples’ ‘oh god take me now’.”

“Preposterous. On Asgard we took courtship incredibly seriously. There were steps involved. A whole process. That,” he waved his hand, “was merely my enchanting nature.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jane told me that Thor offered her the head of a robot overlord he took down in Brazil.”

Loki pulled you to a stop to wait for the crosswalk sign to turn. “It likely would have been a stag on Asgard. Thor made do with what he could. Though I always imagined myself offering up a manticore, personally. Maybe a giant serpent.”

You hummed. “What a romantic.”

Loki shot you a curious look. “I spent much of my boyhood imagining how I might court my future mate. The gifts. The parties. I always imagined a woman at the edge of a dancefloor, how I might ask her to dance. She’d be dressed in my colours in a public declaration. Covered in gold. My sword at her hip…”

The crosswalk chirped. Loki drew you along, finishing lamely: “So no. That’s not ‘interested’.”

The rain was coming down harder, whipped up by the wind so it blew directly in your faces. A bead of water slid down your cheek; the umbrella only covered so much, and dark splotches were beginning to pepper the shoulders of your jackets and creep up the hem of your pants. A chill had settled over your skin unpleasantly… yet you couldn’t help but groan as you rounded the corner and the crisp steel contours of the Avengers tower melted into view.

Loki glanced over his shoulder, a boyish grin tilting his lips upwards. A few damp curls clung to the column of his throat.  “Tell you what, pet. Why don’t I practice my court jester routine a little longer?”

Loki crowded you against the side of the Avengers tower, shielding you from the worst of the storm. He launched into regaling you about the book he was reading - a collection of alien poetry from sometime around Earth’s 14th century, found in one of Tony’s art collections gathering dust. ( We called them engagements on Asgard. Because suitors would often ‘forget’ them in their intendeds’ parlors as an excuse to return later. ) All the while, he drew the plastic container Yvonne had given you from your paper bag and pried the lid off. Inside was a collection of small pastries with cracked sugar shells on top - profiteroles, you thought. Loki plucked one and gestured with it wildly to emphasize his point, nearly upturning the entire box in his enthusiasm.

“Okay, that’s enough.” You took the container from him and held it securely in your free hand. “What were you saying?”

“I was quoting. I said ‘ If love was like an ocean, then mine was like a well.’”

“Deep and drinkable?”

“Hand-dug.” Loki popped the sweet in his mouth. His eyebrows rose comically. “That’s good. That’s very good,” he said around a mouthful.

You hummed and held out your coffee so you could try. Instead, Loki took another one out and held it up to your mouth.

You sputtered out a nervous laugh. “What? No, take my coffee.”

Loki tsked and prodded your lips with the dessert. He fixed you with a strange look, something coy but serious at the edges. A warm flush rose along the back of your neck under his scrutiny, growing so unbearable by the second that eventually you opened your mouth and let him place the treat between your teeth. Sweet cream burst out of crisp, flaky pastry and chips of hard sugar - he was right, it was delicious. 

His narrowed eyes shone with mirth. “Good?”

Your breath stuttered when Loki pressed his lips to the pad of his thumb, licking away some sticky residue. His mouth pulled away with a wet peach sort of sound.

Your knuckles brushed the fabric of his shirt, warmed by his skin - a pleasant contrast to the cold, wet city air. You felt his muscles twitch under the barest touch. 

His mouth tipped upwards; the back of your hand slid against his abdomen when he leaned his hand against the wall next to your head, dominating your personal space.

In a panic, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Do you have a date for the party tonight?”

“Oh sweetling,” he purred. “I thought you would never ask.”

You grimaced. “Very funny. I thought you would have already asked Emily from Accounting.”

Loki blinked down at you. “What?”

“Emily? Tall, big hair, legs for days?”

“Why would I ever ask her?”

You picked at the label printed on your coffee cup. “I don’t know. I just figured someone like you would…”

“Would…?”

You huffed out a sharp breath and glanced at him from the corner of your eye. A strange expression had crossed his face. You regretted asking at all; it wasn’t like you wanted to know the answer to that question anyway.

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ll be fending people off left and right anyway.”

Silence settled over the two of you, decidedly less comfortable this time. His hand slipped from the brick wall and into his coat pocket roughly.

“Do you… Do you have a date tonight?”

“No! No, I…” You laughed uncomfortably. “No. No dates right now.”

Loki hummed. The furrow between his brows lessened but only slightly. 

You pushed away from the wall a little awkwardly, still balancing the box of profiteroles in your hand. Loki followed a step behind, pulling the door open for you mechanically. 

You rode the elevator up in silence.

When you reached the floor for the common office, you found PAL waiting dutifully outside the elevator. His little paper tray bobbed as he spun circles around your feet. 

“You are entirely too kind to him,” Loki chided while you cooed down at his adorably square face.

“Maybe he’ll be my date tonight. What do you say, PAL? Want to dance the night away?”

PAL lead the two of you to your desk, where he waited for you to assign him another file. The city was shrouded in a thick grey haze behind the floor-to-ceiling windows and bright, early morning light had flooded the room - a far cry from the intimate room you’d left. You sighed and slunk heavily into your seat.

Loki loitered. He drew the tip of one long finger down the cover of one of your folders, flipping through a quilt of post-it notes. “Ok. I’ll keep my promise and let you work now.”

“Thank you.” Before he could leave you reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He startled, glancing down at your hand before his eyes flickered back up to yours. You rolled the seam of his coat sleeve between your thumb and forefinger, dropping his gaze when it grew too hot. “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

Loki hummed. “I’ll be the one in black.”

You couldn’t help but feel like you’d said something wrong. His hand slipped from yours and into his pocket, his little book of poetry tucked under one arm. Your eyes lingered on the elevator doors long after he’d left.

—

You were in the process of deciding between two pairs of shoes when your front door slipped open. Never one for boisterous entrances, Natasha sashayed down your front hall into your living area, shoes and makeup bag clutched in one hand, and made a bee-line for your bathroom. You padded after her, adjusting your glittery skirt as you went.

It had become customary for you and Natasha to get ready together in your apartment, even outside of Official Team Events, so you didn’t bat an eye when she leant her hip against your counter and started pinning her hair out of her face. You hoisted yourself up onto the bathroom counter while she unpacked her tools, idly playing with a tube of toothpaste in companionable silence.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the crisis you’re having?”

“How can you tell I’m having a crisis?”

Natasha waved her hand, as if to say international super spy, duh.

“Like a twelve,” you moaned. “I can’t do this anymore. I just get so… so awkward around him. And he gets off on it, I know he does. He amps it up to a hundred because he knows it makes me uncomfortable.”

Natasha leveled a look at you through the mirror. 

“He called Lydia in the mail room ‘Enchantress’ for a week. He calls me his pet. ”

“Some guys are into that.”

You made a face. “He’s not a guy though. He’s a god. How could I ever live up to that.”

You heard the front door open. Wanda had promised to come by once she’d gotten dressed. You called out her name, then returned to your moping.

“He just- ugh - he makes me crazy, you know? I like him so much. I swear if he touches me one more time I’m going to burst into flames. Or cry. Or worse, say something embarrassing. Something needy like ‘I love you please oh please let me have your babies’.” You wailed and buried your face in your hands. “I just need to find a guy to fuck it out of me.”

“If you’re looking for sex, Loki would be more than happy to help you,” Natasha grumbled. “Even if he wasn’t doing the roll-over-and-show-my-belly routine for you - which he absolutely is - he’d jump at the chance to ‘fuck it out of you’ .”

“You are not being helpful at all.” You hopped off the counter and adjusted your skirt. You were beginning to regret your decision, but the dress was a beautiful shade of green that both Wanda and Natasha had cooed at over Facetime a week ago. “I’m serious. I just need some random guy to blow off some steam. Get my mind off of him.”

Natasha tossed her eyeliner pencil in her makeup bag and zipped it shut. “Maybe you’re selling yourself short. Maybe you’re way more of a catch than you think you are.”

“And maybe sleeping with someone who actually wants me will fix my ego problem. Maybe my problem is that I’ve been spending way too much time around super soldiers and GQ models. Someone in my league. Someone totally normal who won’t laugh in my face and pat my head like I’m a horny lap dog.”

Natasha tsked. “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind. So, what’s the plan? You find some guy, take him home, ride him into the sunset and then… Go on pretending you’re not totally in love with-?”

“Don’t say his name! I’m serious, you’re going to jinx it or something.” You glared at her reflection. “The guy doesn’t matter. In fact, he shouldn’t matter. Someone I have absolutely no interest in, who I can spend one fun night with and then move on from. I just need to regain control over the situation.”

“Mhmm. I just don’t see why Loki’s not an option here. Plug this in for me.” You squawked indignantly while she handed over her curling iron. “Worst case scenario, he’s only ok and you never have to talk about it again. Maybe he has a tail or something. Horns.” 

You tried to imagine her head exploding. Or stubbing her toe really hard. Tripping up the stairs. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Natasha hummed. She sorted through the belongings strewn across your bathroom counter mindlessly, straightening out your array of weapons leftover from when you stumbled home in the early morning. One of her manicured fingers traced the edge of an ornate gold knife. Earthbreaker . “Interesting choice for a telekinetic super spy. Abandoning quiet and calculated for something a bit more ostentatious, are we?”

“I’ve been meaning to return that.”

“Return what?” Wanda rounded the corner, a tote bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in another. “Cute dress.”

You smiled. “Thank you. What took you so long?”

“Oh,” Wanda sidled up next to Natasha and began pilfering through her makeup bag. “Nothing, really. I couldn’t decide between this dress or an old red one I found in the back of my closet. I came as fast as I could.”

“No, I mean, I heard the door-”

“She’s going to hook up with a stranger tonight,” Natasha interrupted.

“What? Shit-” Wanda dropped the kohl pencil she was using and licked her thumb, scrubbing at her eyelid. “Wait, why not Loki?”

“I never said I was certain,” you interjected.

“She’s worried he doesn’t feel the same way she does.”

Wanda pouted at her reflection, assessing the symmetry of her eyeliner. “Not to be dramatic but… does it matter? He’d say yes.”

“You don’t know that. Just this morning he turned down a barista when she gave him her phone number.”

“But with a little wine? A little dancing? He looks amazing, by the way, I passed him on my way here.” Wanda turned to face you, leaning her elbows on the counter. “He’ll say yes.”

“Speaking of wine, why don’t I-”

“Worst case scenario he’s only an okay lay. Loki will leap at the chance for a one-night stand. Why would you-”

“I don’t want to just fuck him, okay?” You cried. “I know he’d fuck me. But I want more. ”

You turned on your heel and fled to the kitchen. You had never gotten around to buying wine glasses - something Natasha loved to make fun of you for - so you pulled mugs down at random.

It was only your familiarity with Natasha that tipped you off to the fact that she’d joined you. You avoided her eyes while digging through your cutlery drawer for a corkscrew.

“Babe.” Natasha took you by the shoulders and tipped her head so you were eye level. “Hey. Tell me what the worst-case scenario is.”

You shrugged, a little pathetically. “I don’t know. He’s uncomfortable. Or- or he makes fun of me.”

“He already does that.”

“But not- not like this.” You scrubbed the heel of your palm over your eyes. “I really like him. And I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

“I think you’re gonna lose him as a friend no matter what if this continues. And I think he likes you a lot more than you think. I- and you can never, ever repeat this - I think he’s a lot more empathetic than he lets on. Hell, his brother has tried to kill him multiple times and they live on the same floor.”

Her thumbs worked in small, soothing circles over your shoulders. You leaned forward to rest your forehead against her chest and sighed. “What if he says no?”

“Just ask him to dance tonight. If he says no then no harm, no foul.” She pushed you back by the shoulders and leveled you a look. “We’re master tacticians. We can seduce that stupid peacock. Now come on, come help me do Wanda’s hair. I curl, you pin.”

You took a deep breath in and held it. On the exhale, you pulled away. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You gathered up your glasses. Wine bottle in hand, you started to formulate a plan. A strategy. Something Peter might call Operation Get Laid if he didn’t blush every time a kissing scene came on TV. 

You nodded. “Okay.”

-

part two!

[maldaptivedreamer]

From Afar P. 1

You didn't know his name and you didn't care to. You were perfectly content to watch him from afar...Or were you?

contents: Errors and mistakes, too lazy to edit, probably not entirely accurate to alien universe, Bjorn is also not a major character in this part, kinda long

wc: 1.7k

a/n: First thing to address is the fact that I absolutely hated Bjorn. He pissed me off and SPOILER: I was entirely satisfied when he died. Now because he’s a fictional person, I CAN change him, therefore I will. Second thing is, I have never written creatively before, so if my writing is clunky I apologize.

Masterist Next Part

Sweat dripped from your brow as you drilled into the rock. Your goggles fogged with humidity and your mask only made it harder to breath. Your arms trembled with effort as the alarm signaled the end of your shift. Immediately, your arms sagged. Despite the pain, you continued to push forward towards the tunnel's exit, dragging the heavy drill behind you.

As you stepped out into the open air, you placed your drill on the ground and quickly removed the bulky gloves from your hands. They were shoved under your arm as you pulled your mask and goggles down. You briefly paused. Looking up to catch your breath, you found little reprieve. Jackson's atmosphere is dense and contaminated with humidity and pollution. Even outside of the tunnel, the air is only a fraction better than the air inside.

Taking shaking steps towards the desk to clock out, you silently lay the drill in a compartment, where it is promptly checked in. "Another twelve-hour shift, no drill damage," the attendant muttered, barely glancing up from his screen. You nodded wearily, not bothering to speak. Your throat too raw from the dust and fumes. The worker inside nodded to you and handed you your bag. You ignored them, snatching your bag from the counter.

As you shuffled towards the locker room, your legs felt like lead. The ache in your muscles had become a constant companion, a dull throb that never truly faded. You passed by other miners, their faces etched with the same exhaustion you felt deep in your bones. The locker room was a cacophony of slamming metal doors and muted conversations. You peeled off your sweat-soaked jumpsuit, wincing as the fabric clung to your skin. You change into a loose t-shirt and jeans. Boots shoved back onto your throbbing feet.

You uncaringly threw your goggles and mask into your locker, jumpsuit shoved into your bag. Slamming the door closed, you swing the bag around your shoulder. The sweat built up on your shirt quickly, soaking the bag as it pressed into you back and dug into your stiff shoulders. Your sweaty hands are wiped along your stained jeans.

You walked home as fast as your body allowed, but the trip home is long. As you weave through the crowd, paying no attention to those around you, you allow yourself to think. Deftly maneuvering between each person, you become lost in your own world.

The cycle never ends. Go home, go to work, go back home, and then back to work. Endless monotony. You exert all your energy for what? For nothing. Nothing to strive towards. Just a replaceable cog in their machine, destined to spend your whole life on this planet until you die. They have no regard for you, you’re just another expendable worker. As this bitter and depressing thought crossed your mind, you briefly faltered in your steps. All you do is work and work, you deserve to relax. To just sit and be.

You don't bother going back home to wash off the stink of a long work day. You know that if you go back home, it'll likely end with you not leaving. Instead, you make your way to the northern quarry. It had been completely drained and now acts as a spot for younger people to drink and hang out at.

The once bustling quarry now stands as a barren wasteland, its towering walls and deep pits looking more intimidating due to the dark sky. Graffiti covers its jagged surfaces, a mix of colorful art and desperate messages scrawled in quick strokes. The air around the quarry is thick with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. The faint aroma of weed lingers in the air, masked by the stronger scent of chemicals and decay. Despite the unpleasant smells, the quarry is usually alive with chatter and laughter.

You’d never been there before, only passing by, socializing and relaxing not having been high on your priority list. However, with this goal in mind, you determinedly walked towards your destination.

You tilted your head while chewing your lip raw, watching as he laughed. He leans in closer to his friends, flashing a handsome smile. Releasing your lip, you blow air from your nose and take a sip of the beer in your hands, grimacing at the taste.

Silently watching the people around you, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the pretty boy across the quarry. You’d noticed him before. Just in passing, but his pretty face hadn’t left your mind since. He stood out in the dim light of the quarry, his sharp jawline and tousled hair making him appear almost ethereal. His loose shirt waves in the humid wind. His laugh is infectious and loud, his eyes sparkling in the flickering light from nearby bonfires.

You watch as he focuses his blue eyes on a girl with a shaved head, sipping on his drink as she spoke. You chewed on your bottom lip as he licked the droplet of liquid that escaped his mouth. The pretty boy’s long fingers loosely wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

An amused voice cuts through your silent admiration, “You’re drooling.” You turn to see a girl with curly hair grinning at you. She brushes a stray strand away from her face and raises her eyebrows as she chuckles. You glance back at the attractive boy before turning fully towards the girl. You shrug, “Can you blame me? He’s hot and fun to look at.”

She nods towards him, "Are you gonna’ to go talk to him?" Her tone is playful and her brown eyes twinkle with humor.

You scoffed under your breath and responded firmly, “Absolutely not.” She looks at you with a puzzled expression as you give her a wry smile. Her own smile falters as she asks, "Why not? Are you embarrassed? I could introduce you to him if you'd like."

You emphatically shake your head, “Hah no. No thanks. I refer to him as pretty boy cause I don’t know his name. I do not want to know his name.  I haven’t talked to him because I don’t want to know if he’s an asshole. Like I said he’s fun to look at and I’d hate for him to ruin his pretty face with a shitty personality. It would also be too much work to find another hot person to quietly obsess over, so I’m good thanks.” You end your small rant with another wry smile and a drink. You return to observing the people around you as you await her response.

For a brief moment, there is silence before her boisterous cackling shatters the relative calmness of the night. You and several others instinctively turn to towards her. Her curls bounce as she laughs, gesturing towards the empty seat next to you with a mischievous smile. You nod and motion for her to join you. Squinting your eyes in amusement, your lips curl into a smile at the infectious energy.

Suppressing her giggles, she takes a seat next to you. "I'm Kay," she introduces herself. You exchange names and lean back in your chair.

"I don't recognize you. Are you new here?" You finish your drink, scrunching your nose at the bitter taste before responding, "No, not exactly. Lived in the northern colony til’ I was about 8 and my parents died in the mines… was moved here a little while after.”

Kay frowned and gave your arm a gentle squeeze, “I’m sorry…” There was a short pause before you spoke, voice soft “It’s been a while and I’ve had a lot of time to process everything, but I appreciate the sentiment regardless.” You return her gesture with a small smile and nudged her playfully.

Kay suddenly looks more alive, her eyes filled with a playful glint. "Do you make a habit of staring at people, or is it just him?" You chuckle and glance around, shrugging your shoulders. "I enjoy observing others from time to time...and yes," you nudge her playfully, "I may stare at him a bit more than others." She smirks and nods. Side by side, the two of you silently observe those around you.

As you take a quick glance at pretty boy, your face scrunches up in confusion. You sit up taller and ask, "Wait, do you know him?"

She laughs quietly and confirms, "He's my cousin." You take a deep breath and face her. Kay watches as you start to speak, but you stop yourself mid-sentence. She raises an eyebrow in question. “I was going to apologize but I’m not sorry.” You shrug and give her a playful grin. She shakes her head with a smile, “You shouldn’t be anyway, he can be an asshole.”

You lean back and prop yourself up on your elbows, shaking your head in playful frustration, “Damn…I knew he was just a pretty face.“ Cliquing your tongue, you give her a grin. You look up and lock eyes with pretty boy, whose piercing blue stare take in every inch of you. He takes you in from head to toe before meeting your gaze again. You raise an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as if you had never noticed him before. He flashes a smile and winks at you, licking his lips playfully.

Kay snapped you out of your staring contest with a gentle push and a mischievous smile. "You've caught his eye now. What should I say when he inevitably asks about you?"

You burst into a fit of laughter before shrugging, "I have no idea. Let's just not tell him anything. I don't need to know about pretty boy and he doesn't need to know about me." You gesture towards him with a playful grin, briefly meeting his gaze. His eyes widen for a split second before he returns the grin. He takes this as an invitation and stands up, prompting you to do the same. "Sorry to cut this short, but I'm exhausted from my shift." Kay stands up and surprises you with a hug - awkward, yet oddly comforting. As you part ways, you turn to leave but pause, “I’ll see you soon?” You cringe internally at how needy it sounds, but are relieved when she nods and says, "I'll see you soon." With a genuine smile, she leaves.

Without paying any attention to the pretty boy with blue eyes, you turn and begin making your way home.

Next Part

[chellestrash]

After work

Fox Mudler x F!Reader summary: You decide to make the unwinding after work a bit more interesting for Mulder warnings: teasing, mentions of smut, implied smut. Just something short, sweet and fun for the end of the year. word count: 2.2K a/n: this is me trying to get out of my writing/art block. ALSO, first time writing Mulder! Thank you @chelseasdagger for editing this!

You lay on the small couch in Mulder’s apartment, resting on your side, turned to face the room as the gentle light from the TV shines onto your face. Some low budget horror movie plays quietly on the small screen, but to be completely honest, you don’t pay much attention to it, choosing to have it on as a means of killing time. You usually finish your work before Mulder does, even on the off chance he might leave the office at a normal hour. Killing time until you get to see him in the evening wasn't an unusual thing for you now you didn't mind it.

A cheap gag in the movie makes you sigh quietly before you look away, glancing up at the small window above Mulder's desk. You frown, suddenly realizing the late hour. 

You check the time, squinting at the clock on the bookshelf next to the sofa, before glancing at the phone on the desk. 

The thought of calling him passes by your mind, but you brush it off quickly. You weren't too worried about him, not today, the case him and Scully have been currently working on didn't seem particularly dangerous or high risk, at least not from what he's been able to share with you over the phone. 

The subtle sound of house keys on the other side of the door to the apartment makes you smile, perking your head up and turning to face him.

“Well, well, well…look who's here.”

He speaks first, pretending he wasn't expecting to see you there. 

“You mind telling me how you managed to get into my apartment, ma’am?”

Rolling your eyes at the tease, you turn away to face the TV again.

“I broke in using the keys you gave me.”

You explain without taking your eyes off of the movie, snuggling into the pillow harder while he pulls the work jacket off his shoulders and makes his way over to the couch. 

“Well, damn.”

He mumbles quietly, his usual monotone voice makes the corner of your lips pull up slightly.

“I need to be more careful about handing out my spare keys, huh? I mean, what is this? It's like anyone can just walk in, lay on my couch and make themselves at home.”

“Oh, anyone?”

You raise your eyebrow, glancing up at him in an accusatory manner.

“Well…”

His lips push into a small pout.

“You got me, I give up.”

You breathe out a small laugh as he leans down, pressing his lips to the side of your head gently before moving away. He loosens the tie around his neck and tosses it off to the side before he unbuttons the top couple of buttons on his shirt.

“So…”

He starts after a moment once you pull your legs closer to your chest to make room for him on the couch by your feet. He sits down, lifting your legs up slightly just to rest them gently in his lap.

“What are we watching?”

He asks, fingers slowly rubbing up and down your calves.

“Ummm…not sure. Killer clowns, I think?”

“UUUuu, spooky.”

Mulder hums, unimpressed, and you chuckle at the reaction. There's a pause and you both actually pay attention to the movie for a short while.

“Aliens?”

You glance over at him, catching the small smile when you ask the work related question.

“No um… no, it was vampires, actually.”

He explains and you nod.

“Real ones?”

The smile widens as you seem genuinely interested. At least somewhat.

“Well…technically, yeah, you could say that but, you know.”

“No evidence?”

He shrugs.

“No evidence.”

“I mean, it's a possibility, right? You've handled cases like that before.”

You state, and Mulder nods, agreeing with you, his hand slowly rubbing over your thigh. He turns away from the TV, now looking directly at you.

“Do you think I should remind you that that is classified government information, you technically know nothing about, huh?”

“Oh, I'm soooorry.”

You talk back, head now propped up in your hand, face turned away from the movie you found yourself no longer interested in watching.

“Guess I just overheard it when you were talking in your sleep.”

“Hey!’

Mulder reacts immediately, and you can't help the laugh leaving your body when he pulls you up and into his lap with a slightly offended expression.

“.... I talk in my sleep?”

He asks, hands rubbing over your lower back while you throw your leg onto the other side of him, straddling his thighs in effect.

“Oh, not at all.”

You mumble quietly, pushing a couple strands of hair that fell forward onto his forehead away from his face with a soft smile, and he offers a small one in return.

“You know what? If I didn't know you any better, I would've said that didn't sound too convincing.”

He points out in the quiet, monotone voice, and you shrug your shoulders softly.

“I mean, I could’ve just read your mind, and you'd never know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“You're changing your confession now?”

He teases in a typical Mulder manner, and your smile grows bigger as you tilt your head to the side, letting him continue after a moment.

“So what-what you're trying to say is I work a case all week, and then I come back home to relax, and now I have another X-file on my hands? Is that what you're trying to say?”

You smirk, glancing up at him innocently.

“Oh, I'm not trying to say anything except that I missed you.”

He smiles so big, his teeth shine in the light of the TV screen.

“Me? You, missed ME?”

You hum quietly, confirming your confession as you rub your hand up along his chest.

“Well, that's good to know. Why didn't you call to tell me earlier, hmm?”

“Didn't want to interrupt you at work.”

You explain yourself, and he shakes his head gently before whispering your name softly. 

“You are the only person who I want to interrupt my work, okay?”

His thumb brushes over your cheek, and you lean into the touch, staring into those dark brown, puppy dog eyes. 

“Okay.”

“So you missed me?”

He goes back to your earlier point, and you breathe out a small laugh.

“I need to try and remember that next time I'm at the office, huh?”

“I mean.”

You brush your hand over his shoulder and down his arms.

“I wouldn't complain.”

You shift your position in his lap, and he grunts, feeling the weight of your body now directly between his legs, his grip on you tightening slightly. 

“Oh, but I know you have your vampires and aliens and things you need to deal with over there.”

You speak softly, your fingers gently tracing over the shirt. Your head tilts to the side slightly as you try to make sure your words actually reach him. His eyes jump around your face as you talk, stopping at your lips for longer than they would in a usual conversation before he tilts his head down, eyes now fixed on the spot where your body presses against him between his legs. His hand moves up your back, pushing at the hem of your shirt.

“Hey.”

You start again when he doesn't respond.

“Earth to Mulder?”

“Hmm?”

He mumbles, questioning what you've just said, clearly too lost in the situation to pay actual attention to what's being said.

“When did you stop listening?”

“What?”

He blinks a couple of times before frowning, offended that you’d question his ability to listen to you…under the circumstances.

“Oh, I actually heard everything, for your information.”

He states confidently, and you raise your eyebrows, doubting his words.

“Oh, you did?”

He nods, slipping his hand right under your shirt, his palm flat against your bare back now.

“Yep, everything, yeah. Loud and clear.”

Still slightly out of it, he nods again quickly, doing his best to sound as convincing as possible despite the evidence you feel, oh so clearly, pressing against your body from underneath you.

“So, what did I say?”

You push.

“You said you missed me.”

He starts, and you can't really argue with that.

“And then you also mentioned how I am the best looking federal agent you ever dated, I'm pretty sure.”

Not giving you much time to disagree, or call him out, he raises you off of his lap, swiftly helping you lay back down on the couch. You lay under him as he leans closer to you, his hands playing with the hem of your shirt, his eyes stuck on yours. 

“I don't think I said that.”

You frown.

“But you said you missed me.”

He points out again.

“And you called me an X-File.”

You mumble, unimpressed, and he laughs, shaking his head before it hangs low above your chest.

“I mean, you could argue that was a compliment? Maybe?”

You roll your eyes, a smile back on your face as you decide to let him have it this one time.

“Okay, yeah, that's what I'll do.”

You glance down, slowly raising your knee up, nudging at the bulge in his gray slacks. 

Mulder hums quietly, grinding his hips down slightly as a response to your move. His hands linger over your body, one now under your shirt, the other on the side of your neck.

“Yeah?”

He asks, his voice soft, his touch gentle but impatient.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah and-”

He leans down, pressing his lips against your neck, and you tilt your head back slightly in response, a silent invitation for him to continue.

“I think I deserve some extra credit.”

He mumbles, his words breaking up between the kisses. He slowly moves lower and lower down your torso as he pulls the fabric of your shirt up to expose more and more of your skin, until finally pulling the fabric off and over your head. He tosses the shirt off to the side and his lips find their way back to your body, right above the waistband of your jeans.

“Credit for?”

You glance back down, your hands pushing through his hair when he looks back up into your eyes, lost in the moment, in the kisses and in the feel of your body under his.

“Creativity?”

You laugh, head falling back down onto the couch, fingers still in his hair as you feel his lips back on your body.

“Yeah, okay, I'll give you that.”

You purr softly. As gentle as possible, you scratch at the back of his neck, the short hair prickling the tips of your fingers softly. He lets out a satisfied hum, resting his head right below your belly button, facing you with his eyes directly on yours. You push your hips up slightly, feeling his fingers brush over the sides of your body, and he glances down between your legs before turning his head up to look towards your face again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you get extra points, Agent Mulder. Now c'mere.”

Instructing him to move closer to you, you push your lips against his when his face is inches away from yours. He moans into the kiss, and in response you do the same as the kiss deepens more and more. Feeling his touch firmer on your body now, you reach down, palming the bulge through the fabric of his pants. There's a loud grunt, he breaks the kiss, his lips parted, eyes closed as his lips curl up into a big smile.

“Well, good job, me.”

He mumbles quietly, tracing his hand down your body, fingers curling under the waistband of your jeans while his big, brown eyes open and find yours once again. 

“I think maybe-maybe I should try to earn more of these points, huh?”

Mulder asks, his thumb rubbing over the skin above your jeans.

“I think you really should.”

You agree quickly, nodding and pushing your hips up slightly at the same time.

“You got any-”

He pauses for a moment, placing a wet kiss on the skin right under your belly button, and you feel the warmth between your legs grow significantly stronger.

“Any idea how I could do that?”

He kisses the same spot again, then moves slightly lower, then lower and lower again before working the zipper open. Slowly pulling the fabric down your thighs, he brushes his lips over the newly exposed skin, and a moan slips past your lips.

He chuckles loudly at the sound, shaking his head when you look back down with a soft smirk.

“Oh, Agent Mulder, I think you know very well how you can do that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He asks, in a lighter tone this time.

“I mean, I'm pretty much just guessing here, I-”

He quickly glances between your two bodies.

“I have precisely zero idea what I am doing here right now.”

You scoff loudly, pushing his face away and letting your head fall back onto the couch again.

“Too much sarcasm, too little action there, Mulder.”

You squirm impatiently under his body, hungry from the promise of pleasure.

“Copy that.”

He nods quickly, the big smile never leaving his face for even a second before he buries his face between your legs.

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Jane, Medical Technician

Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I still don’t see why I have to do this,” Simms of the Galley whined, sponge in one hand and a spray bottle in the other.

“Well let’s see,” Huhuma crossed her arms, “you came in here on the first day of the mission with a completely avoidable injury, made us waste precious time and medical supplies, and then somehow thought it’d be a good idea to vandalize my sick bay.”

At her desk, Jane smirked but continued filling out forms. It’d been several months since the Noah had launched, and like clockwork, Simms was there cleaning once a week, every week.

“So unless you want to explain to the Captain exactly why you’re here during your off hours,” the doctor continued, “get back to work.”

It’s been kind of hilarious, in Jane’s opinion, watching all three feet of Simms wielding a broom that had at least half a foot on him, but even she had to admit that the little gray man was putting the effort in. Either he really did feel remorse for his actions, or much more likely, sincerely did not want Captain Skitch to find out what he’d done. Either way, Jane was happy someone else was doing the cleaning.

Simms grumbled something about primate descendant species, then got back to scrubbing.

“Uh huh, and when you’re done there you can wash the test tubes,” Huhuma said, walking back to her office. She winked at Jane as she passed and the human’s heart did a funny little number as the door closed behind her. It took an embarrassingly long moment before Jane could refocus on her files again.

Nothing else had really happened since that night with the Scrib’s dinner and subsequent ‘morning after’, but Jane wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for that, or just disappointed. She’d admitted to herself that yeah, she had a crush on her boss, much to the relief and amusement of her newfound friends Liz and Marrin. Liz’s mandatory therapy session has since devolved into ‘girl talk’ between the three of them, and sometimes Coco, Liz’s Sprygan lab partner.

Totally humiliating, Jane thought, too many people have seen me break down like we’re back in high school.

Jane figured work would be a good way to clear her head, that and watching Simms struggle to reach higher shelves.

After a few minutes of trying to use an old fashioned mop on the walls, the Galley gave up.

“Do you have anything I can use to get up higher? A stool or something?” He asked, defeated. Jane decided to take pity on him.

“Yeah, there’s a little step stool in the supply locker, I’ll get it.”

Jane punched in the code, and the door opened. She handed the small alien the stool.

“Thanks. Weird that the one who tackled me to the floor is actually the nice one,” Simms joked.

“Hey, Huhuma’s nice, really, she just saves it for people who deserve it.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. She’s always nice to you,” Simms threw her an odd look. “If I’d known you two were mates, I’d have never tried to make jokes that first shift.”

Jane started, taking a second to respond.

“What? No, no, we’re not ‘mates’, we’re… friends, and coworkers, and she’s my boss.”

Smooth.

“Oh really?” Simms turned back to the wall and kept scrubbing. “On my planet, when somebody looks at you the way you both look at each other, it’s pretty obvious what happens behind closed doors.”

“Well thanks, I guess, but if I wanted the opinion of a little gray vandal, I would’ve asked,” Jane said, turning her back on him to continue typing.

“Well, all I’m gonna say is, if you two aren’t together, better get on it soon if you want to be,” Simms droned on, as if only half thinking about what he was saying. “When this ‘experiment’ comes to an end soon it’ll be too late.”

Something in the Galley’s tone made Jane turn back around, her brow furrowing and her eyes squinting at the alien.

“What do you mean ‘soon’? The ship’s only been out for three months,” she asked.

“What?” Simms’s big black eyes widened just a fraction, but it was enough that Jane noticed. “I just… I just mean, it only lasts a year right? That’s not a lot of time for you humans, right?” His eyes twitched and he looked away, scrubbing harder.

Jane wanted to press further, but concluded that he’d just turn it into something stupid to try to get out of cleaning. She did, however, admit that the Galley was right. A year wasn’t a lot of time, and a quarter of it was already spent.

If she really wanted to do something, she’d have to make a decision about what that’d be soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jane decided to eat lunch in the mess hall for once, giving Doctor Huhuma total control of the med bay. The doctor would be performing a relatively major procedure on one of the crew soon, and had to plan it with the nurse staff. Jane wouldn’t be assisting unless something unexpected happened. It didn’t make sense to tie up the hands of both the ship’s primary doctors for a whole cycle, in case of emergencies.

So there she was, taking her Vending Machine ramen and looking for a place to sit. Jane hadn’t eaten in the mess hall for weeks, usually opting to dine with the Doctor and the other Indoprimes. Looking for a place to sit, she saw Liz and her Sprygan friend Coco sitting at a table, along with another human, she thought his name was Thomas. She headed that way.

“Hey guys, mind if I sit?” she asked.

“Oh, hey hon!” Liz said brightly, “yeah, pull up a chair.”

“Hey there doc,” Thomas waved. “Heard you watched me sleep for a couple days, thanks for that.”

“Oh yeah,” Jane snapped her fingers, “nasty sunburn you had there, almost forgot about that. You doing alright? How’s Odis?”

“We’re both good, thanks for asking. His cast should be off in a few more days.”

There came a muffled beep from under the table. Thomas looked down.

“Yeah, it’s the nice doctor lady, the one who fixed me,” Thomas said quietly, then turned back up. “Roomba says thanks for patching me up. Little guy was worried about me for a while there apparently.”

“That’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jane said, putting a hand to her chest, “and I need you to know I’d both kill and die for Roomba’s sake.”

Another muffled beep.

“He said he’ll remember the sentiment.”

“Where’s Coco?” she asked Liz.

“Oh, they’re writing a report back to Spryga. Apparently their rapid growth spurt was actionable cause to boost cocoa production on their home planet. Turns out the whole species is just… malnourished isn’t the right word, but anyway, gluten stimulates growth for them so they’re looking into it more.”

“Weird they didn’t know that,” Thomas said through a mouthful of sandwich.

“What can you do, they’re not a predator or prey species, their entire evolutionary development is a passive experience,” Liz shrugged. “They’re just now taking a more direct approach to handling predators on their planet.”

“You know, I almost did a thesis paper on botanical lifeforms in the academy,” Jane said, “it was between that and evolutionary symmetry across planetary systems. I went with the latter.”

“Good choice,” Thomas said. “That’s a way more popular topic right now anyway. Nothing against the Sprygans,” he added, looking at Liz. She just raised an eyebrow at him and kept eating.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, idle brainless chatter filling the space between bites. It wasn’t until Thomas asked the question that Jane even thought of that incident again.

“Either of you guys notice anything weird on the ship?” the engineer asked. “Like stuff going missing or people acting strange?”

“What a blatantly loaded question,” Liz said, raising her eyebrows. “Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?”

Thomas just looked at them in turn.

“Yeah, actually,” Jane said, more to Liz’s surprise, and her own, than Thomas’s, “a couple of, uhh, laser scalpels went missing a while ago. I thought I had messed up inventory, but they’re not in med bay. I’ve turned everything over twice looking for them, they’re not there.”

“I overheard my boss this morning saying he’d lost a bag of tools and spare parts somewhere,” Thomas continued, “but it’s not just that. Maintenance has been getting reports of weird breakdowns and other mishaps for weeks. I didn’t notice until now because the weird ones are never assigned to me.”

“Okay, hold on, stop,” Liz waved her hands, “what are we talking about here, some ship wide conspiracy to make our jobs harder? What? Do you hear yourselves?”

Jane was more confused than anything. Sabotage on the ship? Seriously? In what universe did that make sense? They were on an experimental mission for intergalactic cooperation.

Who’d try to screw that up? Jane thought. She took another bite, more to buy herself time to think of what to say than actual hunger.

“Look, all I’m saying is, something weird is going on here on this ship,” Thomas whispered, looking around at the other tables with all those different species. “Have either of you talked to Danny?”

“Who?” Jane asked.

“Chief Ducane, Danny, the head of security,” he explained.

“Right! That’s right, he’s the one who carried Liz here to med bay after her accident. No, not since then. Why?”

“Because somebody searched his office while the door was jammed open.”

Liz turned to look at him, eyes narrowing, while Jane herself simply looked dumbfounded.

“The hell are you talking about?” Liz questioned, dropping her voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Yeah, I was with him when it happened,” Thomas explained. “We were looking into something, and when he got back to his office someone had been in there.”

“Jesus,” Jane exclaimed. That really put the incident with Simms in perspective for her.

“Why are you telling us any of this?” she asked. “Chief Ducane had to have told you to keep that to yourself, right?”

Another muffled beep. Jane looked under the table to see the tiny service drone peeking its head out of Thomas’s work bag. It had what looked like a modded data pad.

“Roomba said that is correct,” Thomas explained, “though clearly not in so many words.”

“And?” Liz stared at him.

“I… had to tell somebody,” Thomas said sheepishly, “it was eating me alive, and I figured if anyone was safe to tell, it’d be the humans. We have the most to lose if the mission goes sideways. We built the ship, it launched from Earth orbit, the new Warp core was what put us in such good graces with the GAIL in the first place. If something derails the mission, then we Terrans are going to look the worst because of it.”

Jane didn’t know what to say to that. An hour ago her biggest problem was that she might stay perpetually single. Now it looked like their jobs in their entirety were in danger, maybe worse.

The three talked a while longer, exchanging comm-link communication codes, and unwittingly eyeballing the other crew in the mess hall for any odd behavior. Intelligence agents they were not. Jane thought the crew was watching them as well, but that could have just been because they hadn’t seen three humans together before.

Jane Shaw wished she’d had a lighter meal. She left the mess hall with her stomach in knots.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jane, respond please!”

The comm-link on Jane’s hip blipped as Huhuma’s voice came out of it. She pulled it off her belt and clicked the button.

“What’s up, Doc? Need something?” She clicked off, waiting for a response.

“We need you in the surgery suite, one of the nurses accidentally spilled anesthetic gel on themselves and I need you to substitute immediately.”

Another odd accident, huh? Jane thought suspiciously, silently cursing Thomas for making her paranoid.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Jane took off at a brisk pace down the hall to the lift, trying her hair up as she went.

She scrubbed down in the sanitation room and got her scrubs and PPE on, then made her way into the surgical suite. The nurse staff were half around the patient, who was mostly obscured by the sheet save for an exposed patch of blue skin with a sizable hole in it, the other half around Nurse Waas, a four armed Zilont, who was slumped over in the corner. The anesthetic had semi paralyzed the gas bladders they used for muscles, so until they regained feelings in their limbs again they were out of commission.

“Good, you’re here,” Huhuma said while her hands were inside the open body cavity, “I’ve mostly got this under control, but things got a little hectic in here so I thought it’d be better to call you.”

“It’s no problem doctor,” Jane brushed it off, “what do you need me to do?”

“They’re going to take Waas out of here and get him on a bed in recovery, so I need you to take over for the three of them while I finish up. Hand me those clips.”

Jane came around to the operating side and set the clips in Doctor Huhuma’s hand. She didn’t even mind the purple blood too much.

“There’s a little bleed somewhere in his bowels,” Huhuma explained, “he got shaken around when Waas collapsed and I think I nicked something. This was just supposed to be a quick obstruction removal until everything went wrong.”

“Everything is gonna be fine Huhuma,” Jane said calmly, “we got this. What else do you need?”

That was how they worked. Doctor Huhuma operated, making adjustments and stopped the bleeding, while Jane handled everything else and watched the beautiful work her counterpart did. To her it was like poetry in purple bloody motion. Every move precise, every action calculated. Jane remembered the last surgery she performed, where her patient was basically awake as she cut into his throat. Compared to that, this was like watching an artist in her studio, calmly going painting a masterpiece. Jane hadn’t seen Huhuma operate yet, and she had to say, it was impressive. As she was closing him up, Jane doubted he’d even have a scar, the Doctor’s stitch work was flawless.

Coming out of the surgical suite, the nurse staff took the patient to recovery, and the Doctors hung back to sanitize and get back into normal clothes.

“Good work today,” Huhuma said, washing her hands. “You really came through for me.”

“My pleasure, Doc,” Jane said, lathering up her arms with the soap. “Happy to help.”

“I didn’t know what I was going to do when that gel tube burst out the back. Poor Waas, never saw it coming. Had to have been a faulty seal on the stuff, just bad luck that it happened while I had someone open on the table.”

Jane looked at her for a second, thinking quickly. Bad luck? Maybe. Another possible sabotage? She didn’t want to think about it.

“You know,” Huhuma continued, “you humans never disappoint. Always seem to come through for others in the end. You especially, Jane. This is the second time you being there has saved a patient. I really, really appreciate that about you.”

Huhuma bumped her shoulder into Jane’s, and all thoughts of a saboteur flew out the air lock. Suddenly she was very aware that it was just the two of them in the decontamination room, and that Huhuma’s tail was flicking against the back of her legs.

“Well you know,” Jane said slowly, “it’s my job too. Be there to make sure everything works, fix people up.”

Huhuma smiled and dried her hands and fur off before putting her hand on Jane’s shoulder.

“Still though, we should do something special. Just because it’s your job doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some kind of… reward, right?” Huhuma left her hand on Jane’s shoulder and moment longer before grinning and walked towards the door. It opened with a hiss, and as she stood there, the good doctor looked back.

“See you tomorrow, Doctor Shaw.”

And then the door closed.

And then Jane’s legs buckled and she slumped against the sink.

What the hell what the hell what the actual fuck does that mean? Is this work place harassment? Do I care? Am I into it?

Apparently!

Of the many problems aboard the Noah, Jane decided to try to focus on just hers for the time being.