#where the datapad go?
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eobe · 4 months ago
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Lazy day! I really tried to relax and I had so much fun drawing this one based on the awesome ‚Loathsome coworkers‘ comic – credits to @chiliger 🤩 Thank you so much for your friendly permission and I hope you like my appreciation artwork inspired by your work 🙏🏼
I laughed so hard and it absolutely made my day, when I saw the original comic and I wanted so badly celebrate the up-kricked Commander Cody and the flat lazy day Vader✨
It absolutely hit my sense of humor and also my nerve, because it‘s sooo hard for me to relax, to let go of my insecurities and trust in my wrist to draw dynamic lines speedy, easy and free handed. I absolutely need to get more confident, but if I try, I often got the same problem like Cody – I just cramp even more 😂
So, what do you think about it? Let me know!
Edit: Here‘s my explanation / interpretation of what‘s happening on request: It’s drawing style humor 😄 On a lazy day an artist would just speed sketchy lines on the paper without big effort.
Vader is powerful enough to indulge himself in a lazy day (and so in its style), but imperial Commander Cody is too tense and his trial to relax failed miserably, so he got even more detailed drawn with more effort, shading, shaping and bling 😄
But there is also a crux in lazy looking sketches: If the lines aren’t proper on the first try it doesn’t get well or looses it’s dynamics.
So often the reduced drawing is the one from the most sure hand ✨ (and I‘m still drawing Padawan 🙈)
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chiliger · 1 year ago
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The meta implications in this one are wild.
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butchhansolo · 2 years ago
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donnie in the autism polls got me thinkin
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captainseamech · 2 months ago
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Jazz music adruptly stops.
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esperderek · 8 months ago
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I have to have a chuckle at the Screenrant article posted recently about the Galactic Starcruiser, which totally wasn't about Jenny Nicholson's video honest.
In part, because early in Nicholson's video, she talks about how unnatural it is to have your influencers speak in adcopy and copyright rather than the more colloquial nicknames, and how it makes the people speaking about the product seem very insincere and, well, paid off. Because normal humans don't speak that way, but advertising does.
What's the first two lines in this article?
"As a life-long fan of Star Wars, there was nothing quite as exciting as finding out that I would be working on the immersive Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser experience. Located at the Walt Disney World Resort, the Galactic Starcruiser opened on March 1, 2022, and welcomed passengers to board a two-day, two-night cruise through the stars, during which they could live out their own Star Wars adventure."
No one talks like this naturally. No one writes like this naturally.
This is supposed to be your passioned defense of the place you worked at, the people you worked with, and the memories you made along the way. C'mon! Why don't you open with a story, perhaps an anecdote about the best moment you had working there, or the devastation of the day you lost your dream job. We need to feel your humanity! But there's nothing of that here, to the point where you can just hear the TM behind Galactic Starcruiser.
The first half of this article continues in this vein, reading like a press release Disney marketing put out, just with past tense rather than present or future tense:
"Essentially, the Starcruiser experience was a 48-hour movie that passengers were actually a part of. It was all facilitated through the "datapad," which was accessed through the Play Disney Parks app."
"To facilitate the overarching immersive experience and storytelling, the Starcruiser built a jam-packed itinerary for each and every guest that would consist of a variety of important activities: the captain's toast at muster, a bridge training exercise, lightsaber training, and more. These types of events were essential to understanding what was happening, as they would give passengers the chance to interact with characters and build their story. This is why the Starcruiser could never be just a hotel; every part of it was designed for enthusiastic interaction."
Like, c'mon. I used to work in television. I've seen and used adcopy in my former job, and this is some serious adcopy. It honestly wouldn't shock me if the author dredged up some old adcopy they had lying around about the topic and just transferred it over, changing the tense. You're not here to sell us this product, because there is no product to sell. It's gone, it's been gone for a year, you don't have to sell us on IT. Speak about your experiences.
The next part is yet another topic that Jenny Nicholson pointed out, the bad faith excuses that influencers and advertisers made for the extreme price point:
"What many people don't know, however, is that the price included much more than just a room. The passengers' food, park tickets, recreation activities on board, non-alcoholic drinks, and more were all included - with merchandise being one of the few additional costs on board."
Which is absolute bad faith reasoning, especially when there are plenty of other vacation options that are ALSO all-inclusive, but are MUCH cheaper and offer MORE amenities than the Galactic Starcruiser did! Including Disney Cruises, owned by the same company! Seriously, you can go on a halfway decent sounding cruise or all-inclusive resort somewhere warm for, like, a week or two and spend far less than GSC cost.
Then the last part is essentially: "All the workers liked working there and the bad reviews afterwards make the workers who worked on it feel sad. :("
Which, like, companies have been hiding behind that reasoning for ages. Curiously, the author never offers....any reasons or stories. WHY did working on it impact you so much? What set it apart, what were the people like, what did you like about working there, why are you so passionate about it even a year later? There's nothing, just a generic sort of "We worked hard." and "We're sad it's gone." Why? How? What happened? The video you're obviously writing this in response to is filled with personal anecdotes and stories, it's the backbone of the video! Again, you need to give us something to show your humanity!
Especially when you consider that Nicholson repeatedly points out that the only highlight about her experience, the only thing that kept the damn thing going was the workers.
She had nothing but praise for them, and nothing but contempt for the higher ups who wasted and abused that enthusiasm, to the point where one of her last points was "Hey, Disney is basically exploiting labor."
Much like Jenny, I'm also not condemning anyone who had a good time working there. Good! If you were having a good time at work, that's great. If you have good memories about the people, awesome. But I'll note two things:
a) That doesn't meant you weren't being exploited, and
b) That doesn't mean you have to be a useful idiot for the corporation you worked for afterwards.
I'm not conspiracy brained enough to go "Oh, Disney TOTALLY forced this article into being.", because a cursory examination of the author's prior works and such suggests a lifelong passion for Star Wars, she did work at the hotel, and she's a Star Wars Editor (whatever THAT means in this day and age) for Screen Rant. Apparently one of the heads of Screen Rant says that Disney had no hand in it either.
Though, I can see why people would think that way. It READS like a press release, not something a normal human being would write about an experience they feel passionate about.
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ddejavvu · 9 months ago
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Also… your post about ani loving back scratches omg.. you think he’s into like reader playing with his hair too?? His curls, and even when he had short hair like wow I just know that man has the softest hair ever
happy may the 4th! send me star wars requests/headcanons and we'll have a party <3
i pictured this as tcw!anakin's hair because it was like the cutest little baby mullet/shag where it was growing and curling against the nape of his neck and i wanted to scrunch it with my fingers so bad <333
--
"Keep going."
"Hold on, hold on," You mutter, "My friend's texting me."
Anakin releases a displeased grunt into the fabric of your shirt, and you feel it where it lands warm in your lap.
"Easy," You tap away at the screen of your datapad, pecking letter by letter at what is shaping up to be a lengthy paragraph, "I thought they taught patience at the temple, Jedi Knight. I'll go back to playing with your hair as soon as I'm done."
Anakin grunts again, louder this time.
You don't dignify his dramatics with a response, and you continue typing, the lingering warmth of Anakin's hair fading from your fingertips. He lets you get half of a sentence more in before you feel an invisible tug at your hand, and it relocates itself against Anakin's scalp instead of where you'd placed it on your pad.
"Anakin!" You scoff, "Did you just force my hand back into your hair?"
He lets out a muffled chuckle into your sleep shirt, "Force."
"You are absolutely insufferable," You grumble, but you indulge him with the scrape of your nails against his scalp. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he burrows his face further into your stomach.
"You sound like Obi-Wan," He muses, "I've heard insufferable, incorrigible, reckless, untamable, unmanageable-"
"Unshushable," You add, still making a valiant effort at typing one-handed rather than returning your second hand to its rightful place among Anakin's barely-curled scruff, "Do you ever stop talking?"
"You love the sound of my voice," He accuses, peering up at you with squinted, tired eyes, "That's why you make me read to you at night."
"No, I make you read to me at night because the last thing you read was a users' manual for a landspeeder, and you barely even skimmed that," You scratch against the crown of his head and he groans, "I worry about your literary habits."
"I worry about your hair-playing habits," He reaches out to knock your datapad out of your hand which he drags back into his hair, "Come on, baby, you owe me three books-worth of this."
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transformersxreader · 3 months ago
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TFONE Yandere Sentinel Prime x Femme Reader
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(Part One)
"You look exquisite my dear (Y/n)~"
(Y/n) couldn't move, she was terrified looking at her own reflection into the large mirror. Servos rested upon her shoulders, a large figure comes behind her moving to stand beside her. (Y/n) breath hitch when she felt a servo grab ahold of her chin making her look up to Sentinel prime.
"Smile dear, the public awaits~"
(Y/n) felt her helm shake slowly, looking back at herself in the mirror, joining the prime. They both slowly walk out to the balcony, where she was greeted with cheers and flashes of lights.
This was the moment Sentinel Prime announces his marriage engagement to the whole city of Iacon. The thought of their savior prime getting to marry somebot made all the cybertronians thrill and happy.
If only they knew.....
(Y/n) was force to smile and wave gracefully to the large crowd making sure to show everyone how "happy" she was. Sentinel prime had no problem waving to the crowd. (Y/n) felt a servo land on her hip, looking up she sees sentinel smiling down to her. (Y/n) was hesitant to slap that smile off his face, but she knew the consequences. How? How could she let this happen?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Flashback)
"(Y/n) a word."
(Y/n) lifted her surgical lopues glasses, looking up from her work to see Ratchet, she places the small tool to the side.
"How can I assist you sir?"
Ratchet walks up lifting up a datapad to (Y/n)
"Are you busy this afternoon?"
(Y/n) gave a good thought replying back to him,
"No sir. I believe I'm free, is there something happening?"
Ratchet smiles
"Would you be interested on joining me and a few other medics to speak with Sentinel prime?"
(Y/n) thought how amazing it would be to meet a prime and having a chance to speak with him. (Y/n) gave ratchet a nod of excitement grabbing the datapad.
Gathering with the other medics, ratchets leads them to an elevator, (Y/n) felt nervous more and more as the elevator went up hearing a small ding, the doors sliding open and there standing proudly was the Sentinel Prime.
"Greeting Ratchet and I see some fellow hard working medics!"
Sentinel walks up shaking ratchets hand, waking to each medic thanking them for their service. (Y/n) lets out a breath trying to calm herself. Once sentinel reaches the (F/c) femme, he pause for a moment, catching himself for freezing. Grabs ahold of (Y/n) servo shaking it slowly
"And who is this lovely medic?"
(Y/n) blushes and shakes his hand back,
"(Y-y/n). Sentinel prime sir."
Sentinel smiles and lifts (Y/n) hand to his lips kissing it lightly. Catching (Y/n) and the other medics/doctor by surprise,
Sentinel then lifts his arms up,
"I appreciate you hard working medics making sure all citizens of Iacon are in their best health! I celebrate you."
Ratchet and the other medics where grateful for his words, (Y/n) was still spaced out on what just happen not focusing on the conversation that when she felt a servo on her shoulder she sees ratchet giving her a small smile, looking back to the prime thanking him for speaking with them.
Just as they all gather into the elevator, (Y/n) looks up notice that the prime was staring right at her, (Y/n) smiles shyly waving goodbye.
Once the elevator doors closed the prime lets out a steam of breath looking back, he sees Airachnid coming out of the shadows.
"Follow (Y/n)."
\_______________________________/
"You ready to go Skyburn."
The bigger jet bot stood and stretched out his arms, moving his leg in steady motion."
(Y/n) gave a small cube to him, filling out a few things on the datapad.
"Now remember try not to use a lot of activity like jumping and running for a while, and you'll be as good to go."
Skyburn grabs the datapad and gives (Y/n) a firm nod leaving out the doors.
(Y/n) sighs another patient satisfied, she then took a moment looking down the hand that sentinel kissed, rubbing it still processing if that really did happened.
Also she has felt like someone was watching her, not close but from afar. She carefully gather her things heading out, she scans her card stating that she's no longer in the building.
"Uh.. finally, I can't wait to go home."
(Y/n) again felt the feeling of someone watching her, making sure to be aware of her surroundings but couldn't pin point it.
She made it to her home building as she was putting in her code, a large shadow figure covers her smaller one. She quickly looks back to see a large spider like femme.
(Y/n) couldn't let out a sound too afraid to speak out, the spider femme looks to her side revealing her other optics. She made sure to analyze (Y/n) and their surroundings.
"Are you (Y/n)?"
(Y/n) nods not wanting to get the bigger and scarier bot mad.
She lifts what looks like a hard drive or chip waiting for (Y/n) to grab it, which she slowly did. (Y/n) gave the femme bot a confused look.
"From Sentinel Prime. Play this when you are ready."
And with that she leaves, (Y/n) waits till she couldn't hear the clicks of her extra legs. She leans against the door sliding down hitting the floor letting out heavy breaths.
"What just happened?"
(Y/n) gave a long thought looking at the small drive, was this actually from sentinel? She places the drive in its slot, a hologram reveals at first glitching till it actually reveals the prime himself.
"Greeting (Y/n), if you are seeing this message I invite you to accompany me tomorrow evening. Please I insist."
And with that the message end, leaving (Y/n) there still processing what she saw. (Y/n) smiles covering her mouth with excitement so she doesn't make too much noise for her neighbors. (Y/n) needed to peppered herself, make sure she looked presentable for the prime.
The next day, (Y/n) was finishing up her work load, her feet wouldn't stop tapping from all the nervousness. Finally the evening came but just as she steps out of the medic wing she was greeted by the same spider femme.
"Oh! H-hello again um.."
"Airachnid. Follow me."
And with that she transforms into her vehicle mode catching (Y/n) by surprise, she quickly transforms to her jet form trying to catch up with Airachnid. Once landing what looks like the top of sentinel primes tower, (Y/n) mid transforms landing right beside Airachnid.
"(Y/n) you came! Glad to see you again!"
Sentinel voice echos out through the shiny room, Sentinel walks up to her, holding out his hand for (Y/n), which she grabs. This time he lower himself to kiss her servo.
"I'm so pleased that you were able to join me, please this way."
"Oh no sir, it's a pleasure to join you."
(Y/n) lets Sentinel lead her to an area that looked like a whole group of friends can hang with a nice furniture and table that had energon goodies, there for the rest of the time together they sat and talked about each other.
The more (Y/n) talk about herself the more the prime fell harder for her. (Y/n) then notice that it was getting late.
"Oh, I really should head home, don't wanna take up more of your time. I had an amazing time."
Sentinel gets up slowly walks up to (Y/n) grabbing her serves holding them together with his bigger ones.
"No worries my dear, and please I wish to see you again whenever you're free."
(Y/n) nods blushing, thanking him again. Transforming and heading home. Sentinel watches (Y/n) leave waving his hand goodbye till he could no longer see her form.
"Have you gather all her information?"
Airachnid comes out, smiling holding up a small drive.
Some time has passed, the more (Y/n) spend time with the prime the more she developed feeling for him. Same goes for the prime but his love was twisted, (Y/n) not knowing what she was getting herself into.
(Y/n) made it home after another date, With sentinel, she hums a little tune to herself getting ready for a good rest, slowly drifting off.
She felt heavy for a moment till a large flash of light blind her till her optics open, noticing she was staring into a vast of stars. She noticed more she was laying on the floor, lifting herself up.
"Uh hello? Hello?"
(Y/n) begins to walk in a direction but it seems she wasn't moving at all. Till a voice booms out,
"(Y/n)."
She turns letting out a surprise gasp, there stood Zeta Prime.
"What? Z-zeta prime?!"
The bigger bot knees down the be eye level with (Y/n) placing a hand on her shoulder.
"What's going on? Where am I? Oh no am I?.."
Zeta Prime shakes his head
"No. No, young (Y/n). You are in an astral projection. Between worlds."
(Y/n) gives Zeta a confused look
"If I'm here? Why?"
Zeta stands walking around (Y/n) making her turn to follow him.
"You are in grave danger (Y/n). All of cybertron and cybertronians are in danger."
"I-in danger from what? W-who?"
"Sentinel."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’ll add some sketches tomorrow hopefully it’s getting late for me ✍️🥱💤
Holy moly! Thanks again for taking your time reading this, sorry again for taking some time off, personal matters that I had to deal with.
Funny thing is, I wrote this like three times with different story plot and chose this one, I'll probably post the others later.
But yes! Thanks for all your support 🥹☺️
Peace ✌️
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the-californicationist · 10 months ago
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That Fire is Repeated
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From an anonymous ask: fic of where instead of Price, it's reader who's been infected with sex pollen?👉👈please and thank u!
Deep in the southern jungles of Urzikstan, Captain Price is sent to help with your extraction. On your way out of the makeshift Konni laboratory, you accidentally step on a trap, and Price volunteers to save your life.
“I can’t hear her comms!” Simon yelled out over the noise of the helicopter, pointing to his headset and giving the thumbs down to Laswell.
She typed something into her datapad and showed it to him, yelling back,
“Dead zone! You’ll have to go in on foot.”
Price adjusted his vest and checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded,
“I’ll go. She’s my recruit, my responsibility.”
“Sure you’ll wanna be the big hero for her, too, huh?” Farah laughed from the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder as Price twisted his face, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from his shame. 
It was well-known that Price had a terribly strong crush on you. You had accepted his advances, but he was reluctant to take it further, realizing that fraternizing was frowned upon. So, you pined for each other from afar, and the whole base knew about it.
Laswell rolled her eyes at Farah’s comment, 
“Should we go back to basics? Captain: don’t subtract from the population,” her eyes narrowed, “Don’t add to the population…”
“Yeah, alright, Kate. Got it. Loud and clear,” Price waved her off, staring out the window and ignoring the obvious ribbing from his colleagues. 
“Go get Sparrow and let’s go the fuck home,” Laswell hollered at him, opening the door to the chopper and letting the air whoosh inside.
The wind stung his cheeks, and the tall grass blades spun and twirled like violent dancers as he made his way towards the old, dilapidated lab. You’d been sent to infiltrate secret Konni operations here, disguised as a chemist. Now that the Konni operatives had been dispatched, you secured the intel and were ready for extraction. Price was ready to have you back. These types of ops were so delicate. One wrong move would put you in danger. He was glad the worst of it was over. 
As quickly and as carefully as he could, Price made his way inside. It was a little odd that you weren’t outside waiting for the extraction, so his guard was up. In the main lab, he spotted you, standing with your bag and your weapon with your back towards him. 
“Little bird?” Price questioned under his breath, moving forward slowly, using the pet name he saved for when you two were alone. 
“Hey, Captain. Glad you made it,” you called out to him, your voice tinged with obvious sobbing and stress. 
“What is it, Spar? What’s happened?”
He made his way around the lab table and saw you. You were standing stock-still, staring down at your foot. Then, he knew what had made you cry. 
Jutting out of your pant leg, a giant syringe was stuck into your calf, empty.
Price leaned down to help you, removing the needle, panicking at the thought of losing you,
“Can you move?”
“When I do… Captain, it’s excruciating.”
“Fuck,” Price tried the comms. But, then he remembered it was a dead zone, and no one was coming to help him. He asked you, “Is it poison? How’d this happen?”
“They call it XLR8. It’s what they’ve been working on. A prototype. I was bending down to grab my bag and this was rigged to hit me. They knew I was a spy.”
“What does it do, this prototype?” You heard his voice quiver at the end of his question. 
You blushed, laughing a bit, 
“It incapacitates you, first. Removes your inhibitions, next. Then, it causes extreme vasodilation…”
“In the Queen’s bloody English, love. Please…”
“John,” you used his name, looking up into his eyes, “I may ask you to do things to me. Things that I might not usually ask for. And I want you to know that you don’t have to listen to me. I don’t want you to do anything… I don’t want to force you to do… things…”
“Birdie. Tell me what I need to know.”
“When the Konni scientists injected it into mice, they would breed… for hours. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep. One time, a researcher opened the door to the cage, and they didn’t escape. They only bred…” You looked at him in his eyes, making sure he heard you, “But, the mice who were alone in their cages and were given XLR8 got a high fever and died. Every last one of them”
“Are you… “ Price pointed down at your leg, “Do you mean to say that you’ll need someone to…”
You looked down at the ground, steeling yourself for the harsh reality of what was to come,
“When the drugs hit my system, the effects were immediate. Stage one should be almost over now.. You’ll… you’ll know it when you see stage two. But, listen to me, John. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced you to do something that you would regret. Please. I’m sure they’ll think of some other way to help me…”
“Little bird,” he caught your gaze and smiled softly at you, “I’m here for you. I’m not going to let anythin’ happen to you. I won’t lose you to this. I can’t… I care about you too much. I’m going to catch you, and we’re going to get out of here. Just fall forward into my arms, love. I know it hurts. We need to get you to the bloody medic as soon as we can.”
You nodded, and then you did as he commanded. Every movement felt like some sort of hell. You could hear yourself screaming, but it was muffled, your face buried in his chest. You were hanging, limp, against John’s body. You could feel every stinging step he took as it jostled your body. Suddenly, you heard the angry clipping of chopper blades. Then, you passed out. 
Sometime later, you awoke, still on the chopper, sitting in the jump seat way in the back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Price was sitting in the jumpseat and you were… straddling his lap. 
You were humping him, shamelessly, right in front of Farah, Laswell, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. The helicopter was full of soldiers, and here you were, uncontrollably rocking your hips against your captain. The others tried to avert their gazes, sitting at awkward angles, trying not to watch, but that somehow made it worse. 
You cried out as if you were in pain, and Price held you closer, soothing you with his deep, rumbling voice, speaking to you right in your ear,
“Shh, shh. It’s alright, little bird. I’ve got you. Almost home. Just a few more minutes.”
“John… fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I need… oh, God.”
“I know what you need,” he kissed your neck, and he took his hand and shoved it down the front of your pants, giving you something to grind against. 
His fingers were strong, and the tips of them were thick, easily pressing through your folds for you, exciting your nerves just the way you liked.
You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. When you did, you saw Soap’s head peek around the back of his seat. Then, a gloved, skeletal hand yanked him back around to face the front. If you didn’t die from the XLR8, you’d die from embarrassment afterward, that was certain. 
“It’s okay, bird. It’s not your fault. They know that,” he tried to reassure you, but you hid your face in his neck anyway, unable to stop your wanton writhing, soaking his fingers until they slid against you unimpeded. 
You felt your hands reach for his belt, digging under his vest and all of his equipment straps. You wanted to spear your body onto his thick cock. You were sure that it would cure you. The fever made you feel too cold and too hot all at the same time. You shivered in his arms, but your brow was dotted with beads of sweat. 
He caught your wrist to stop you,
“Just a little while longer, love. Shh, shh, shh. I know…”
You sobbed into his shoulder, ashamed and needy, too weak to fight his grip. 
“Hey, look at me,” you obeyed, and he rubbed your cheek, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”
You shuddered, cresting over a brief, sharp orgasm, coming on him as quietly as you could, biting your cheek so you wouldn’t cry out. For a few seconds, you experienced some sort of relief, but then it was gone, and the overwhelming internal fire raged in your belly once more.
The chopper pitched, landing on the pad at your base, and everyone cleared out of the hull except for Laswell. She looked down at you, pity in her eyes, and then turned to him with concern,
“I’ll send a few supplies to your room. The medic wants to run some tests. How long is this supposed to last?”
John shrugged, petting the sweaty hair out of your face, tucking you in close to him in his arms,
“Not sure. Just trying to get her through it. Take her datapad. It’s got her notes from the lab.”
Laswell took it and stepped down from the chopper, jogging off to the med bay. 
“C’mon, love. Let me help you take that fever away, hm?”
You nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, letting him carry you from the helicopter. It seemed like the tight coil in your belly was getting more and more tense by the moment. Your orgasm had been too weak, and it was almost like you hadn’t quite completed the event. You were just stuck in between coming and not coming, waiting for someone to put you out of your misery. What you thought had been relief was really just a prelude to the main event. It was torture. 
As you lay your head on his chest, you could smell his aftershave as it mixed with his skin, a comfortingly warm scent with woodsy spices and the faint hint of tobacco from his favorite cigars. You wanted more of it, so you turned your nose into him, running your hands across the belt of his pants, trying to pry your way in..
When he arrived in the barracks, he kicked open the door to a dark room. It smelled just like him. You realized then that you were in his quarters. He lay you on his bed and set to taking off your gear. Your boots and socks slid off, and he unclipped your vest. Then, you felt his fingers on your neck, carefully inspecting your wounds. 
“Birdie…” He shook his head, obviously regretful for what you were going through. 
You whimpered, looking up at him as you moved your hand down your own pants, rubbing yourself in front of him out of a desperate need, 
“John, I don’t know how to ask you this.”
“You don’t have to. Medic’s gonna check you out, and I’ll give you whatever you want, little bird. I promise.”
“I need you, now. I don’t… I can’t… mmmngh...”
“Captain?” A woman’s voice floated into the room from the doorway. Price cracked the door and when he saw it was the medic, he let her in. 
She knelt by the bed, and took your hand,
“Hey, Sparrow. I’m just going to check your vitals, okay?”
You nodded, trying not to stare down the dark opening of her lab coat. Her voice was so sweet, and her breasts looked full and soft. Her olive skin would probably feel so warm on your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you had your hand behind her head, kissing her neck, trying your best to unbutton her blouse.
“Easy! Easy does it,” John sat himself down behind you on the bed, positioning you between his legs, and held you back, keeping you from accosting the medic. 
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I… oh, my God…” You writhed, trying to fight the demonic need building inside of you.
“That’s okay,” she said, “They warned me. We’re going to get you some help… Let me take your temp… Goddamnit. She’s burning up. I’m going to give her a light sedative and something to try and cut her fever, but…”
She stopped speaking, looking up at the captain, trying to be delicate, 
“You probably need to… um… begin. The sooner the better. I’ll leave these with you,” she dropped two blue pressed pills into his hand, “Just in case you, uh, need a boost.”
Price recognized the sexual enhancement drugs and put them on his side table. He waited patiently for the medic to take a small vial of your blood. He thanked her, trying not to sound like he was in a rush (even though he was), and eventually she shut the door, leaving you two in each others’ care.
John stayed where he was, but he softened his grip, kissing your neck. He reached down and unbuttoned your pants, giving your hand room to move. You rubbed your folds faster, making tight little circles around your clit, struggling to come. 
“Nnngh… fuck. Fuck, I can’t do it. I’m so close, but…” You whined, gritting your teeth and struggling against the XLR8. It was making you woozy, and you couldn’t keep your strength up in order to get yourself over the edge. 
“Show me,” he whispered, staring down at your furious masturbation, watching your hand as it worked, “Show me how you like it, little bird. Teach me.”
Your heart raced, equal parts excited and embarrassed to show him something so personal and intimate, but you did as you were told, letting him see how your fingers worked your flesh. He sighed, and you felt his cock shift against the small of your back. 
He took over for you, sliding his hand down below yours, mimicking your movements, and getting very close to perfection. 
“That’s it!” You hissed, keening for him, “That’s… oh, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t —”
Your orgasm was almost immediate. Your body locked up, every muscle squeezing you until you were frozen, rigidly convulsing as you came on his hand. Your mouth hung open in a breathless, silent scream. Then, to your horror, you felt the heavy stain of some sort of fluid soaking through your pants. At first, you thought you’d wet yourself, but then when John pulled his hand away to inspect your emission, you saw the sticky, gooey consistency shining on his fingers. 
“What… I don’t understand. What is that?”
“It looks like your come, yeah? Quite a lot of it…” He observed. Price brought it to his nose and mouth to smell it. Then, he licked his fingers tentatively, and his eyes rolled back into his head, “Mmm. Fuck. It’s sweet.”
He lifted you so easily, it was as if you weighed nothing. Propping you up on his pillows, he helped you out of your pants and boots, stripping you down. When Price saw you, dripping and pink, splayed in front of him like a gleaming prize, he stalled. Then, he looked up at you, eyes wide with glorious wonder,
“Little bird…”
“John,” you gasped, “Please.”
He didn’t waste any more time. In a flash, your thighs were hitched up toward your chest as he shoved them back, giving his mouth access to its warm, wet reward. 
The first long lick was like its own kind of drug. Your whole body sang like a bell, trembling and ringing out for him and his soft tongue. He licked you again and pulled away, confused but pleasantly so,
“Fuck, love. You taste like strawberries. That’s… fuck.”
You lost track of time as he devoured you. His whole face was shining with your stickiness, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was gasping for air, practically drowning himself, rubbing his chin and nose through your folds as he tried to writhe his tongue deeper into your core, fucking you with it to draw out more of your slickness. 
The sounds you were making seemed almost inhuman. You were convinced you had never had a true orgasm before if this is what they were supposed to feel like. Every lap of his tongue felt like its own crescendo. You were putty in his hands, figuratively and literally judging by the dampness beneath you. 
Eventually, he made his way back up your body, peeling away your shirt and bra, rustling out of his own clothes as quickly as he could, his muscular arms getting trapped in his jacket, stretching and pulling against his heavy bones for freedom.
“You alright, little bird?” He asked you softly, crawling over you and settling himself between your shivering thighs. 
You nodded,
“Yeah, that was so amazing, John. I know its selfish, but I need more. Can… can you fuck me? Please? I’m clean, I have an IUD. Please? I won’t —”
“Shh. Hush, love. I’m not leavin’ this room ‘til I’ve cured you, one way or another. C’mere.”
He pulled you to him, kissing you, covered in your come. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he was right: it was exactly like strawberries. It must have been the stimulant, you thought. Something to… entice… 
Your mind went blank as John began to feed his fat cockhead into your hole. All of the pain and the heat from the fever disappeared, and you were normal again. Well, a very horny normal, but at least you felt some relief. 
“Oh, my God!” You cried, “That’s it. That’s what I needed. Oh…”
“Yeah?” Price narrowed his eyes, studying your face, watching your reactions with rapt attention. Where you were stabilizing, he was falling apart at the seams. 
His whole body shuddered as he slid himself into you. It was shallow at first; he was too thick to fit inside of your tight pussy, no matter how wet you were. But, as he lubed himself up in your body, he squeezed deeper and deeper inside, eventually drilling down right to his base, slamming his hips into yours like a hungry machine. 
Your screams echoed in his small room, and the metal bed creaked under his enormous weight. You could feel his power through his thrusts. He was so incredibly strong, and his muscles bent and twisted just to serve your pleasure. It was hypnotizing to watch. You were focused on the straining sinew in his immense neck when another orgasm threatened to bubble over inside of you. 
It was too soon. You’d barely recovered from the first one, and as he felt your body start to contract around his shaft, he began to moan right along with you. 
“That’s it, Birdie, let it out. C’mon. Come for me… That’s it. That’s… ungh!” He coached you, talking you through it, fighting his own pleasure like the dragon it was, the heat of his breathing furling in hot bursts down your neck. 
His eyes were wrenched shut, but between his long, aching thrusts, he rambled, spilling out his words instead of himself inside of you like he wanted to. 
“Spar… don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted this?”
Your pussy was being pounded so hard you could feel your pulse slamming against your skin.
“...I’ve wanted you… wanted to feel you…”
His face was near yours, close enough that you could still smell your sweet slick on his beard. 
“...it’s so good. I never want it to stop. Feels like heaven…”
When he wasn’t speaking in that hoarse, smoldering timbre, you could see his jaw working against itself, fighting the inevitable. 
“...so damn responsive to me. Such a good girl…”
Then, his tone turned dark, burning into your face as he spoke against your cheek through gritted teeth, 
“You want more, hm?”
“Yeah…” You whispered, your voice sounding so small. 
“Harder? You want it harder, don’t you, little bird? I can tell.”
You nodded, whispering your pleading to him in wordless gasps. He smiled. You could feel it against your skin,
“Bloody hell. Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he lamented, rising up above you, wrenching his fingers around your waist, the gentleness gone from his touch, “Fuck, Birdie. You’ll make me come. You… ah!”
He brought you with him as he tumbled over the edge. You felt like you’d been hit with a flashbang. You couldn’t hear, and your vision went white. When you begged your lungs to breathe, you couldn’t take in the air. All you could feel — the only thing your body would allow you to feel — was each silky throb of his cock as it pumped his come inside of you. You could feel it as it burst from him, and then as it melted down your walls, flowing across his fleshy head. It was lava-hot, and you knew nothing except that you needed more. 
Price collapsed on top of you, his heavy, furry body sweaty and panting, gasping for air himself. He seemed spent, but you weren’t done. 
You flipped him, planting him on his back, enjoying the shocked look on his face, his eyes wide and uncertain. He couldn’t speak; there wasn’t enough time. But, as you began to rock back and forth on his softening rod, he cried out with something between pain and bliss. 
“Oh, fuck, love… wait! I’m… oh, shite…” 
“I’m… so sorry, John. I can’t stop…” You ground your swollen pussy down to his base, fucking him raw and wild, feeling his come slipping out of you in foamy smears. 
He nodded, hiding his eyes behind his palm, struggling to get his breathing under control,
“It’s alright, Birdie. It’s alright. Take what you need.”
As you rode him, he fully softened in you, and you cried out, trying everything you could to bring him back. Then, you watched as he fumbled across the end table, reaching for the blue pills the medic had left behind. He took one, and stared up at you,
“I’m sorry, love. C’mere.”
He grabbed your thighs, and with very little struggle, situated you across his face, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, forcing you to put your weight on his jaw. He began to eat you out, licking long circles around your messy hole at first, and then he thrust his long tongue inside of you, rubbing his nose deep within your wet folds. 
You screamed for him then, trying to battle your insecurities and failing. It was overwhelming. The pleasure just built and built inside of you, mounting up and then… nothing. It remained there at its peak, a tightened coil, ready to bust. 
“John! John, I can’t… Help me, please.”
With all of his strength, he lifted you off of him, shoving you on all fours, situating himself behind you. 
All of his movements were rabid and unwieldy. He was struggling, trying to overcome his soporific pleasure to accommodate you. Hungry for you even though he’d recently been sated. 
Your chaos quieted for a moment when you felt his fingers prying your lips apart between your legs, slipping into you like a cork, sinking down to his knuckles into a perfect fit. 
“Oh, Sparrow. So fuckin’ soft. So sweet.” 
As he praised you, he ate you, pulling out more and more of your stickiness onto his hand, lapping you up with his tongue. You were coming unwound, and it felt amazing. It was as if he was pulling pulsing orgasms from your body on a long silk ribbon, one after the other, soft and slick, neverending. 
Then, finally, you felt his head tapping its way into your wet hole once more. Fucking you from behind seemed to be your commander’s preference. It was either that or he had become beyond overstimulated. His noises were a cross between whimpers and growls. He kissed his way up your back, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck and shoulder, grunting like an animal as he buried himself into you. 
“You’re so big. I feel so full,” you whispered to him, glancing over your shoulder as he knelt over you like a feral hound, bucking into you shamelessly. 
“Feels good, little bird? ‘M not hurtin’ you, am I?” 
“No, John. You’re perfect,” you found his jaw as he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face with your own, rubbing against him like a cat. 
“Gonna come for me, love? Squeezin’ the fuck out of my cock.”
“I can’t help it,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so overwhelmed, your body was processing every sensation, fraying your nerves. He wiped your temple with his hand, 
“I know, Sparrow. I know. Let it out, love. C’mon. I can take it.”
“Nghah!” You screamed, trying to relax into the blinding pleasure, feeling your legs start to tremble from it.
“Mmm,” Price groaned deeply, sitting back on his knees as he felt you spill over the edge. Your sticky come coated his cock and the dense hair at his base, matting the dark fur, “Tha’s it, baby. Fuck, so wet.”
You sobbed through the orgasm as it wrecked your body. John gathered you up in his arms, taking the sheet with him, clutching you to his chest messily, still humping himself into you as gently as he could, but unable to quell his own lurid desire. 
“Lay down, Birdie,” your captain whispered, pulling the sheet away and pushing you prone into his mattress, “Try to breathe for me. Tha’s it.”
You tried to do as he commanded. You wanted to be good for him, but your breath kept hitching in your throat. You needed more, and you didn’t know how to get it. You writhed below him, feeling his cock slipping in and out of you, the wetness from your body pooling beneath you. 
“John, I’m still so hot. Feels like I’m losing my mind,” you looked at him over your shoulder, and you had to admit he didn’t look much better. He was spent, fucking you on auto-pilot at this point, letting nature take its own path. He was nothing more than base instincts at this point, and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself tied down. 
He wanted to come again, you could feel it in how rigid his cock had become, helped by the pills. Something inside of you wanted to force his come from him, to make him explode in you again, filling you up. So, you pushed your hips back, arching your spine to allow more of his cock inside of your pussy, teasing him with your swollen hole. 
“Oh, fuck. Sparrow… don’t…”
“Does it feel good, John?” You asked, not following his orders for once, “Do I… make you feel good?”
“Holy fuck,” he spat, his voice dark and animalistic, unable to tear his eyes from where your bodies were joined together.  
You twisted your hips back and forth, effectively jerking him off with your drooling sheath, listening to his deep whining as you tormented him, pushing him to the brink but not fucking him fast enough to toss him over. 
“Little bird… Please…” John whimpered, overstimulated and eager to come.
“Tell me,” you teased him, not recognizing your own voice, “Tell me how you like it.”
“I fuckin’ love it. Just like that, Birdie. So damn good. Keep movin’ your hips like that, pretty girl. Gonna make me come again.”
You could feel his eyes watching you fuck him. He used his hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, giving him a bird’s eye view of both of your holes. You could feel the cool air rush across them, exciting you and making you shiver from the sensation. 
“So damn pretty,” Price crooned, whispering almost to himself, petting your stretched skin with his thumbs, smearing your wetness all over you.
You felt him grab your hair, right at the nape of your neck, forcing your back to arch, pulling you up to him, 
“You want me to come in you, little bird? You want my fuckin’ come? Hm? Tell me!”
“Nghh… Yes,” you hissed. His grip was so restricting, and you felt the air try to escape your throat, “Come. In. Me.”
“Sparrow!” Price shouted, releasing your hair to hold you across your belly, wrapping your body in his arms, ramming himself into you as deeply as he could, letting his cock spill into you once again. 
You were full of him. John was everywhere. He was wet and dripping within you, and as he fell to the bed with you, his body covered yours fully, wrapping you beneath him. You shifted a bit, convincing him to roll onto his side, kissing his neck and face, whispering sweet nothings to him as he caught his breath. 
“So good, John… You are so good to me,” you let your lips sink into his warm, panting mouth, letting your lips slide together. 
“Mmm,” he sighed, “Still hard. The medic was right about those pills.”
“I’m so sorry,” you straddled him again, humping against his still-rigid shaft, “I still need you, John. Please?”
“Sure, little bird. Ah! Oh, fuck, I’m sensitive. Easy… Ngh!”
“I’ll go slow,” you leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his long moan in your mouth. 
Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and then a slit of light as it creaked open. A skeletal gloved hand reached in with a stuffed bag and dropped it just inside the room before shutting it tightly again. 
Price removed you gently, watching you pout, and he explained,
“Laswell’s care package.”
“Come back, John,” you pulled his hand toward you as he opened the bag with the other.
He started laughing, letting you guide his cock back into you while he was standing at the edge of the bed. You watched as he pulled a couple of water bottles out of the bag and set them on the end table, still chuckling to himself. 
“Hey,” you pet your fingers through the hair on his belly as you writhed against him, “What’s funny?”
“Strawberries,” he smiled as he pulled a small box of the fruit from the bag, his eyes twinkling in the low light, “You want one, little bird?”
You nodded, but then felt the sudden emptiness of him removing his cock from you again. Then, with a devilish grin, you watched him dip the tip of the bright red fruit into your pussy, twirling it around in your juices, coating it with your thick stickiness, and then sucking it into his mouth, eating half of it and letting it drip down his chin. 
He brought it to your mouth, at the same time thrusting himself all the way inside of you, making you gasp,
“Open wide, love.”
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keferon · 2 months ago
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I just saw the post about Jazz not taking care of himself and all that, and with the doodle provided on that, i for some reason, have the mental imagine of Prowl now just holding Jazz on one hand while the tiny human sleeps there, and he's just working on whatever it is that he needs to work on with one hand
Because he got scared and now does not want to let go until he's sure he's ok.
There is no context, i just saw Prowl holding tiny Jazz and now my brain itches for more of that i guess.
THO SPEAKING OF WHICH (please excuse the rambling), but like when Prowl first finds out about Jazz actually not being a mech and just this tiny soft squishy human, who, in tfp Ratchet's words, can go squish under their pedes like, now constantly panics about Jazz possibly being hurt
And under no circumstances allows him to walk on the floors in fear he might, in fact, go squish. So everytime he leaves his suit Prowl has him sit by on the tabls or straight out just carries him (bring out that meme of Finn having a pocket for Jake)
Idk, the amount of funny scenarios of Prowl having to learn about how to be careful around a human is endless and i love it, and dammit your au has been stuck in my head i can't stop looking at content for it, it's making me go insane!!
Oh and to hopefully finish my rambling off, but add huamn adrenaline to the mix. Jazz getting severally hurt, but the adrenaline keeps him kicking for a bit longer, like bleeding out and a broken arm but he pushes through as if it were nothing....until they are out of danger and the pain kicks in. Prowl is none the wiser to his partner's injuries until the mecha suit starts to tweak as Jazz starts to let out pained screams, or small gasps of pain depending how much hurt you want him to be in, and then he pops out the chest compartment to reveal how much actual damage he took.
Ok this was supposed be a small "haha Prowl holding a sleeping Jazz" and it turned in to a full on yap session about very different ideas, hope you dont mind ^^;;
Just really love your au man...
YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ACTUALLY PREDICTED THE THING I WAS PLANNING TO INCLUDE IN MY THREAD :D
Like. Y E AH. Think of it. Fuckinb imaginb. Jazz falling asleep right where he was standing and Prowl is like. Okay I need to find some safe place to put this tiny guy because I don’t want him to get squashed right?? But he doesn’t really have a lot of options so he ends up just sitting and reading something from his datapad with one hand. And holding Jazz in the other. And it works perfectly because Jazz is small enough to fit in Prowls palm.
ALSO. A L S O
I imagine Jazz has magnets in the gloves of his suit. So! Not only Prowl can carry him around but also Jazz can just stick himself to Prowls plates haha
Prowl: Where tf are you
Jazz, crawling on Prowls back: I’m Spider man
Another Cybertonians react to this the same way people do when they see a spider on someone’s shoulder btw~
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quixotical-lymbo · 3 months ago
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Helloooo! I've never requested before... so this is my first time. (Is this how I request? I'm still clueless with Tumblr)
If you can! Could you do TFO Sentinel Prime x Advisor Cybertronian Reader? 😽
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Pairing: Sentinel Prime x gn!advisor!Reader Rating: SFW-ish Summary: Working to keep the city of Iacon running as efficiently as possible proves to be difficult when the bot in charge has a tendency to throw a wrench in your plans. Warnings/Tags: cybertronian reader, implied toxic dynamics, brief mention of vomiting, one-sided attraction, or is it?, and corruption. Word Count: 1400+ words 
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Digits danced along the bright screen detailing the reports of data collected from the guards overseeing the mines. Your optics brightened as you processed the numbers and spotted a few increases. 
Shifting your weight from pede to pede, your lower derma was bitten as you narrowed in on the section of the report where the increase was evident. 
This meant another promotion was on the horizon, perhaps you should schedule a meeting with-
The datapad in your servos disappeared and when you snapped your gaze to glare at the thief, the heat of your glare was extinguished into an optic ridge lifting as your helm craned to look up at the face of your superior who came into view. 
"___." Hearing your destination roll off his glossa felt like a group of scraplets biting at your circuits. Eating away at you until you're nothing left but an empty husk of everything wrong with you. 
"...Sentinel," You greeted with a nod. Your optics locked onto the datapad before switching between the device and his face. Your arm lifted briefly as your digits curled slightly toward the pad. "May I…?" 
"Oh…this thing?" Sentinel rose the datapad above his helm, knowing your stature couldn't reach such heights. "You want this…why?" 
"It is mine." 
"And?" 
"I need it, sir." 
"Is that so?" Sentinel observed the way your dermas pursed and digits flexed stiffly. The mech felt a warm fuzzy feeling erupt in his chassis in seeing you squirm within his presence. The tip of his glossa swiped over his bottom derma, "Y'know, I've been meaning to ask you a few things and I think this is the perfect time to do so!" 
"But I-" 
"-what do you do in your spare time? Me, I like to…"
You squeezed your optics shut and blocked out the sound from your audials. Your fears grew as Sentinel turned on his heel and walked away with your datapad in servo. 
You really needed it back to be able to continue your work. Without the sensitive information on your personal datapad, you wouldn't be able to sit still for the rest of the chord unless you did something productive for the day.
"...___? You there?" 
You snapped out of your stupor and stared dumbly as Sentinel rose his own optic ridge. The corner of his intake curved upward as he shook the datapad in his servo, "Come on, I gotta show you something." 
Despite the alarm bells going off in your processor, you obeyed his silent order and followed him to his office. The large room made you visibly shrink into yourself as memories from long ago flashed in your helm.
This was the place that was a stark reminder of where you learned...that for the first time. 
 
"Where are we going, ma'am?" 
Airachnid didn't turn to look at you, not that she needed to, and simply said, "You'll see." 
You looked around the unfamiliar area. Weird, thin blade-like things sprouted from the ground and were abundant in the mountainous terrain the two of you were trekking on. 
You were halted by a servo placed in front of your chassis and when you glanced up to see Airachnid's digit pointing in a direction you followed it to see-
Your intake twisted in knots.
Sentinel, Quintessons, ships, so many ships. 
Your internal fans kicked in as your frame began heating up. You felt dizzy, nauseous even, and you somehow found the strength to lock your blurry optics to the larger femme.
The corners of her dermas stretched upward. 
You turned your helm and vomited. 
You flinched when a heavy servo landed on your shoulder pad.
"Ah!" You stumbled forward as Sentinel pushed you along toward the large windows overlooking the city. You stood straight when the servo on your shoulder lowered to the area just above your aft. 
A shudder dragged its cold digit up your back strut. The false Prime's laugh brought forth a second. 
"It's been sometime since you became my assistant, huh?" Sentinel began. "I remember the first time I met you! Heh, can't believe you couldn't look at me in the optic because of how nervous you were…but after you warmed up to me, you were quite the yapper." 
You acknowledged his words with a nod. The digits rubbing against your back paused as the expression on Sentinel's face plate darkened. 
"I missed that." 
You broke your neutral expression to look at him. 
"You, being chatty and all, now you're….boring," Sentinel patted your aft and snickered when you jumped. He turned away from you and walked over to his desk, plopping on the chair he threw the datapad on his desk and slightly shifted his legs to leave them comfortably spread. 
"What changed?" As if feigning ignorance, the mech had the nerve to appear sad. 
You stalled for a moment, optics shifting and digits digging into the palm of your servos, "I…um, got busy. It's no easy feat helping someone like you–"
Sentinel's optics narrowed and you quickly sputtered out, "-someone as famous, uh, fabulous, and..um…and well-loved run a city!" 
"Ok, ok, I get it, really." Sentinel Prime waved a servo. "You're…'busy.'" 
"Yes, sir." 
"Hm." Sentinel's optics racked over your frame. "You work a lot so you must be tired, c'mere and get off your pedes for a while." 
"Oh, I shouldn't." 
"I don't remember asking, ___." Sentinel moved one servo to rest on his lap. "Sit." 
You inched over to the desk and made your way around it, but your wrist was caught and before you knew it, you stumbled back and fell onto the mech's lap. You immediately moved to get off but an arm snaked around your midsection plating and caged you against a broad chassis. The heat radiating off of the mech behind you caused you to stiffen. 
"There you go, sweetspark." Sentinel cooed. "Let's continue where we left off, 'kay?"
"Now, what's so important it's managed to steal your attention away from me?" 
"...there's been an increase in miner productivity," You mumbled. 
"...that's what's got you in a tizzy?" Sentinel mulled over what you said before peeking over at the datapad disregarded at the corner of his desk. A noise left him as he nodded, "Oh, right…the method you mentioned in the last meeting we had…it worked?" 
"Yes," You slowly crept out of your shell. "Allowing the miners to work without tight restrictions, more breaks, and even adding more recreational areas for their enjoyment has yielded good results." 
You paused to check Sentinel's face plate. He was leaning back against the chair, the side of his helm resting against two digits as a soft smile etched onto his dermas. When you hesitated, Sentinel gestured for you to continue as his other servo rested on your hip. 
"...and I-" You continued after gaining the green-light and divulged into your plan. Sometimes, you would catch the blue and gold mech glancing between your animated servos and the lower half of your face plate. Despite this, you felt…safe. Safe enough to ramble on and on about your plans and future aspirations for the city. 
"...and I've been thinking, why not try to use some of my free time to look through our database to find information on where the matrix is-" 
The servo on your hip dug into your plating causing you to hiss. Sentinel heard and removed his servo from you, "Ah, sorry." 
He didn't sound like he meant it. 
"Matrix?" Sentinel inquired with a loop-sided grin. "You what to try and…find it?" 
"Well, maybe, I don't know the logistics, but if I can find a lead maybe you won't have to continue the deal with-" 
"-shh, shh, shh," Sentinel cupped the side of your face and leaned down. The distance between you two caused your optics to grow in size, you don't even know if you're breathing anymore. 
"Let's talk about something other than work…hey, what kind of drink do you like? Wait, wait,  better yet, let me get us some. I'll buy the whole bar out." 
You couldn't find the words to deny his request and watched as Sentinel pressed a digit to the side of his helm to comm some bot to bark his request. 
 
…this'll be a long evening. 
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😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banners by @kodaswrld !!
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scribescrawls · 1 month ago
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On a more silly note, imagine the High Guard after the whole killing Sentinel thing happened/banishment and a few weeks later call a meeting with Optimus and they go “hey so I know we’re at odds at the moment but are we ever going to get payed for the last 50 cycles?” cause I mean technically I don’t think they were ever officially fired so much as declared dead to the general public and secretly being hunted down during that time. Do they go up to Optimus and are just like “so I get that we don’t really work here anymore but like can we still get our severance pay and our backlog of paychecks?” Cause I’m pretty sure since they were military the government was paying them before the whole Sentinel betrayal thing and any funds any of them had has probably been seized by the state (aka Sentinel during that time) or frozen sitting somewhere in account of being presumed dead. Does Megatron not want to have this meeting but the entire High Guard are grumpy about it like "no I want to get payed! I want my stuff/money back!" so now he has to sit across from Optimus in the most awkward meeting after their fall out as Starscream shouts across the table negotiating if they still qualify/are entitled for the Cybertronian equivalent of military/veteran pension for their previous cycles of service.
Cybertronian Civil War on hold due to the nightmare of bureaucracy and paperwork because tracking down at minimum 73 different case files of each High Guard member and getting them all in order when probably half of the information was purposely destroyed by Sentinel means it will probably take a while. How many times has Shockwave and the rest of the High Guard have to sign documents to declare "yes I am alive" "no I did not fake my death to commit tax fraud". Or dealing with banks and other organizations going "please provide proof that you are indeed Starscream." Starscream going "I'm literally Starscream and standing in front of you what other proof is more clear! You are literally looking at a photo of me on the datapad!" "Apologies, but unless you have x, y, z document I am afraid we cannot simply take your word that you are Starscream. If you are missing these documents please fill out these thirty forms as alternative verification of identity". Also imagining Thundercracker going "hey do you think my buy five get one free drink stamp card still works. I've been sitting on that free drink for 50 cycles…"
Funniest thing if Shockwave was a senator before joining the High Guard and there was a small period of time where he actually was declared dead before it got cleared up back in the day when the Primes were still alive, but now they can't find the paperwork that cleared up that it was an error and he was still in fact alive so now he's been declared doubly dead.
Shockwave: It's document 37C!
Elita: Repeating it for the fifth time will not change the fact that it does not exist!
Shockwave, done with being declared dead: It exists! It's added every time my taxes get filed each cycle! Did I suddenly imagine the last thousands of cycles of my life!
Elita, losing her own temper: There is no document 37C! Listen here Blinky, I can easily resolve this matter by getting you declared dead for a third time for real!
Optimus stressed and trying not to cry: Maybe we should call for a break in the meeting...
When the break is over no one can find Optimus who has decided to play hooky from his responsibilities because he'd tired and feels like he's going to lose it dealing with all the sudden responsibilities of being leader of an entire planet. I like the idea that it's Megatron who finds him. Megatron going "if I have to suffer through these meetings so do you" (he was secretly also ditching the meeting and accidentally bumped into Optimus because the place is technically their old spot that they sometimes went together, both thought it would be abandoned and no one would find them there). It's awkward, there are hurt feelings on both sides, but maybe they slowly get to talking and at least commiserate how much they hate paperwork. Also funny if they find out they both also have to resolve their own "declared dead by Sentinel" paperwork considering he said they both died after the Iacon 5000 lol.
Also I think it would be funny if these meetings drag on for so long that Optimus is just like instead of commuting back and forth from the surface to Iacon every day just stay here in the city it will save time. Banishment temporarily rescinded. Even more funny if they also have to deal with the Quintessons so half of these meeting turn into war meetings to deal with and fight the Quintessons off their planet where both sides are like "we're not on the same side!", but also eventually have to work together to win. So it's basically an officially we're not on the same side, but all actions say otherwise lol. I like to think Bee likes to hangout with Soundwave during meetings and finds him so cool, and Soundwave actually likes listening to Bee yap finding him endearing.
They eventually realize that it would be easier (and less paperwork) to just reinstate the High Guard and at this point so much time has passed that they've basically been doing their old job anyway as they fight the Quintessons together. Banishment permanently rescinded for all parties involved. I like to think megop over the course of these meetings and fighting together against the Quintessons make up. Things can't go back to the exact way it was between them, but that doesn't mean they can't rebuild something new between them. I like to think both groups have differing ideas of how to lead and how to deal with situations, but I like to think eventually they get to a point where they can compromise and work with differing ideas depending on what's best for the situation at hand similar to the 13 Primes who probably had conflicting and contrasting personalities and approaches but were able to use these differences to work together and make them stronger as a united front.
Cybertronian Civil War avoided through the sheer slog of paperwork and bureaucracy.
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nefastidies · 4 months ago
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Inspired by "Implicit Demand for Proof" by imperialhuxness
-1-
“I need you on the ground,” Ren says instead, measured, but tight-strung as a grappling cable. Apparently sensing the retort on the tip of Hux’s tongue, he continues, “But I’m not taking you into the thick of combat.”
Hux thins his lips, keeps up the patient tone. “That’s where this team and I will be most effective.”
“At too high a risk.”
Since when do you care about risks? Hux barely bites back, instead manages, level, “Nothing we do is without risk.”
Ren’s gaze flashes with an insistence that isn’t anger. His eyes are like coals, waiting for a spark. “I’m not taking you into that firefight.”
Really.
Fucking really.
“So you won’t take me into a firefight,” Hux lowers his voice to a hiss, but it still reverbs under the high ceiling, “yet you dragged me ten klicks below the surface of Coruscant.”
“Well, maybe I--” Ren hesitates, gnawing his lips. His gaze drops to the mosaic tile between their boots, then flickers back to Hux’s face. “I shouldn’t have.”
Hux is too pissed off to bask in the near-admission of wrong. “Well, you can compensate by bringing me this time, when it makes actual, tactical sense.”
“You’re not going into a combat zone.”
“I was born and raised in a--”
Ren’s voice drops to a whisper. “That’s an order,” he says, invoking it almost gently, below earshot of the men.
Hux purses his lips, aware of his surroundings again. Of the absolute indecorum of this argument.
Around himself and Ren, three officers stare at their feet, four tap too aggressively at their datapads. The two trooper commanders confer in whispers about a new blaster model. Mitaka seems interested in the mosaic on the floor.
“Yes, sir,” Hux forces out, Academy pert, and the gathered staff returns more or less to professional attention.
--- -2-
Hux whirls toward the sound as a massive shape bursts through the treeline, scattering leaves. Some sort of megafauna. Some sort of monster.
The creature’s smooth skin glistens livid green, its underbelly sickly pale. Its mouth opens wide, baring short, sharp teeth like a Rodian fly-trap’s. It has six legs, each ending in a crustacean pincer, which stab the ground with each step. It reeks of rot and salt, as if it just crawled out of brackish water.
Hux’s pulse skyrockets, and he jumps back on adrenaline. Why do you ever leave the ship, every time you leave the ship it’s some shit like this, every goddamn time—
He yells to Ren that they should run, even as the creature screeches again, lunges toward them.
But Ren stays put. “You should run.”
And Hux would. He would, but he’s already several meters back, and the soles of his boots weigh a kiloton. He’s rooted to the ground. The blood pounds in his ears, and he can’t move, can’t think.
The thing screeches. It’s high-pitched. It rends the air. Its movements ruffle the foliage around it. Its pincers break the damp earth.
Ren steps in front of Hux. Into its path.
--- -3-
But Yago’s lips still twist into something unbearably self-satisfied. “General Armitage Hux,” he says, “was executed six months ago on a charge of high treason. So even if Hux were alive, it would be my sworn duty to have him shot in the back of the head.”
It hits like a blow. Phantom pain lances through his leg, between his ribs. Yago’s right. There’s no defense when he’s--
Before Hux can formulate one, Ren’s gaze kindles. “I’m Supreme Leader,” he returns, typical thoughtless clapback. “I hereby pardon him.”
(Typical thoughtless clapback.)
Everyone knows traitors receive no mercy.
--- -4-
A humanoid figure emerges from the shadows like he’s been waiting there. In two strides, he closes the distance to Hux and Ren. It’s clear he’s part alien, skin teal-tinged and marked with pale striations. His voice is somewhat rough with drink, but his movements are smooth, purposeful, eyes trained on Hux.
“Thought you could just slip out with your date?” he spits.
There are far bigger concerns than correcting the assumption.
“What?” Hux returns, elegantly.
“The bartender told me you were coming this way,” the man says, ill-concealed rage contorting his mouth. “Got a lot more nerve than I’d give you credit for, showing your face like this.”
Shit. Hux’s pulse picks up, and for a second the alley takes on the sharp edges of panic. You knew this would happen eventually, you knew -- Stop.
“I’m sorry,” he says, tamping down the worst case scenario, “what are you--” 
But it’s like he doesn’t even hear it. 
“Kind of man that’ll pull a trigger from a thousand lightyears away. Not even the guts to look at what you’d done.” The man’s eyes flash with the sort of hatred Hux actually recognizes. “My wife was on Courtsilius, General Hux .”
The man takes a step closer, and Hux is about to spread his hands and explain with a baffled simper that he’s got the wrong person. That the Hosnian ‘Cataclysm’ was an unspeakable tragedy and a monstrous war crime.
But before he can speak, sulfurous green ignites in his periphery. The air hums, cracks with the sudden whiff of ozone. The blade of the antique saber impales the man’s chest.
--- -5-
Ren shakes his head. “But I still need you,” he says, eyes glittering, desperate, searching. “What about weapons dev? And you can actually conduct diplomacy--”
Hux cracks a smile. “That’s going a bit far.”
Ren huffs a laugh, but doesn’t indulge him. “You balance me,” he continues. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I love you.”
Hux’s pulse drops into his stomach. His spine stiffens, more from surprise than actual discomfort. It isn’t a concept with which he’s familiar. But it’s right, somehow. As Ren’s eyes search his face, curious but unshrinking, he can’t deny it.
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scripts4dreamers · 5 days ago
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Hey, so don’t think about your romance partner from Mass Effect going back to what’s left of Anderson’s apartment in the wake of the final mission.
Don’t think about them seeing the photo you took at that last party, the two of you smiling at one another instead of the camera because you were just so happy.
Don’t think about them slowly packing up the things of theirs they’d left behind back when they thought you would still have a future at the end of everything.
Don’t think about them finding the Datapad Anderson had left behind, the one where he talks about Shepard. About how hard they worked, how alone they had been, how they never complained. Don’t think about them sobbing silently, clutching the pad to their chest as David Anderson mocks them from beyond the grave.
“A person like Shepard is even rarer.”
Just don’t think about it.
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revelboo · 1 month ago
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Skywarp at this point is just built different. Most DEFINITELY incorrectly, but different nonetheless.
He’s on a different level of being a menace.
Also, absolutely love the Earthspark Soundwave fic! ^^
He has absolutely no impulse control once he wants something
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True Romance Pt 9
Seeker Trine x Reader
• Venting raggedly as he divides his attention between his reports and Skywarp, Starscream swallows a growl as his brother sprawls on Thundercracker’s berth beside the blue Seeker. Ostensibly to join in on the movie you both are watching, but also reaching over to run a servo down your spine where your sprawled on Thundercracker. Waiting for the fight to break out between the two, because neither of them share well and he and Thundercracker have both been on edge since Skywarp had declared an interest in you. Knowing how impulsive he is, that he’ll try to act on it regardless of how bad an idea it is.
• Tip of a servo sliding from between your shoulder blades down over the curve of your butt and along the inside of your thighs, you shiver and reach back to swat Skywarp. Glaring at him as he just grins like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like he’s doing it on purpose. Relaxing when Thundercracker pointedly drapes a hand over you and just frowns upside down at his brother. Because Skywarp’s become a lot more tactile since that awkward group shower and his self help session. Keeps picking you up and petting you. Making you swat his servos when he zeroes in on areas you’d rather he didn’t touch. Almost positive he’s amusing himself with your embarrassed discomfort.
• “Sky,” Thundercracker growls under his breath as Skywarp tries to wriggle his servos under his own to get to you. Making you squirm distractingly against him. Because Sky just keeps talking about you on patrol. Trying to coerce him and Star both into going along with his idiocy. Putting wholly inappropriate thoughts in his processor about sharing. About finding out if you’re compatible, because Sky is sure you are. Apparently he’s been watching videos of humans coupling just to check and he’d been happy to share the details.
• Both of them rumbling softly at each other, you’re not at all surprised when Starscream shoves his chair back and stalks over. Thundercracker and Skywarp both falling silent and moving their hands so Starscream can pick you up and carry you to his desk. Putting an end to the squabble as he sits with you in his hand, cupped to him and reaches for his datapad with the other. “I swear you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he mutters so softly you almost miss it. Reminding you that your survival is dependent on the three of them, but mostly him since he seems to be the one in charge. And not being seen as a nuisance. Slumping against his warm chassis, you wish you knew what they want from you. What to do.
• Venting in annoyance, Skywarp watches Star’s back. Hears him murmuring to you. Knows he enjoys having you around, despite his grumbling. That he’s just being stubborn. Knows his brother’s always on edge, dealing with his duties as SIC and worrying about keeping them all off Megatron’s radar. Rarely ever has time for them, let alone himself. But watching him absently slide a servo against your spine when he’s preoccupied, or just picking up to carry as he paces about the habsuite, Skywarp knows you’re good for Star. Something soft and warm to distract him from his stress. Star and TC just need convincing.
• You’re leaning against him and he knows you’re just after his warmth, but it’s still a nice feeling. Taking you on impulse because of your unwitting help saving him from the Autobots, but keeping you because his trine is closer than they’ve been in a long time with something to fuss over. “How was your day?” You ask and it’s become a routine now, you ask even though you know he’s not going to share. But you just keep stubbornly asking like you really do want to know. Like you care.
• “Our scouts found a potential energon vein,” he says slowly, surprising you. “We still need to vet it and make sure it’s not a false reading like last time.” He’s talking to you. Head tipping so you can see his face, his optics flick to you and back to his datapad. “We need this, though.” Opening up to you after so long. After ignoring you for the most part aside from occasionally absently patting you on the head like a favored pet, and your tension eases. Because he sees you and you just have to make sure that he keeps seeing you. Not a pet that can be discarded, because your life depends on it. On staying on his good side and finding some way to be useful. Even if hearing him vent about his day is all you can do for him.
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captainseamech · 7 months ago
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//ooo you wanna get in the Transformers fandom so bad oooooo you wanna write with my ocean man ooooooo
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nahoney22 · 15 days ago
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Congratulations on the followers! Please can I request some angsty fluff with Fox and a female reader with this prompt - 24: “Who hurt you?”
Maybe reader got attacked and he found her and tends to her wounds which leads to some feelings being shared? Thanks if you do 😊 I love your work
Medical Feelings 🌊
🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader
word count: 1.8k
prompts:
• “Who hurt you?”
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Plot: After a risky mission that left you injured, Commander Fox helps nurse you back to health.
Warnings: Safe for work, hurt whump, idiots in love, Reader scared of droids momentarily, needle mention, slightly injured reader, minor blood mention.
Authors note: Sorry for the wait 🩵
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“How are you holding up?”
You blink, trying to focus as the voice cuts through the haze in your head. But your vision blurs and swims, the light above stabbing behind your eyes like a viroblade.
“Like someone who’s been hit in the head,” you groan, wincing as you sit up on the medbay cot. The room tilts for a moment and you feel like you may be sick but luckily it settles, and your eyes finally set on the figure perched nearby. Thire.
The mission hadn’t gone as planned. What should have been a straightforward retrieval of intel left you caught in the crossfire. You weren’t a soldier so when the fighting started, you’d been forced to rely on pure luck and very minimal training. Clearly, neither had been enough.
Your memory of the incident was weak as all you could recall was a sharp pain to your head followed by the sight of clankers looming over you before everything went dark.
“You took quite a hit,” Thire says, his voice lighter than the situation warrants as he pulls up a stool to sit beside you.
“I noticed,” you mutter, rubbing gingerly at your temple that felt sticky and as you pull your hand back, a splodge of blood painted your fingertips. A dull ache radiates from where the blow landed, and your entire body feels stiff and battered.
Recovery is going to take a while.
“You know the Commander’s going to want to see you.”
The comment makes you freeze for a beat before you force a painful shrug, hoping to look unaffected. “He’s busy. I doubt he even noticed.”
Thire snickers. “Not too busy for his favourite girl.”
You roll your eyes, already regretting letting him sit down. “Oh don’t start with all that.”
But Thire doesn’t let up, grinning like a loth-cat who’s cornered its prey. “Come on. You’ve seen the way he looks at you. If Fox stares any harder, his visor’s going to fog up.”
“Shut up, Thire,” you grumble, though a reluctant chuckle escapes before you can stop it. The movement makes your ribs ache, and you hiss softly in pain. “And no, I haven’t seen the way he looks at me. It's you lot putting that notion in my head.”
Instantly, Thire’s grin fades, replaced by concern as he notices your pain. “Should I call a med droid?”
“No!” you blurt, a little too quickly. Thire raises a brow, clearly catching on.
“Not a fan of droids, huh?”
You cross your arms, or at least try to; the motion is stiff and awkward. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t need—”
“Who hurt you?”
The sudden voice freezes you mid-sentence. Both you and Thire turn toward the door at the same time, and your heart stops.
Commander Fox. The visor of his helmet glints under the overhead lights as he strides toward you, exuding that no-nonsense authority he’s known for.
Thire shoots you a smug, told-you-so glance before rising to his feet. “This one took a blow to the head, sir. She has a possible concussion.”
Fox’s attention shifts to the datapad in Thire’s hand. “Why wasn’t this reported to me immediately?”
“I figured you had more pressing matters,” Thire replies smoothly, clearly unfazed by the irritation in Fox’s tone.
Fox huffs, the sound sharp and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder. His gaze snaps back to the datapad, scanning the details. “And why hasn’t a med droid been dispatched?”
You groan, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I’m right here, you know. Maybe someone could ask me what I want instead of talking like I’m invisible.”
Both men turn toward you at the same time. Thire’s expression is sheepish, though it doesn’t quite mask the amusement in his eyes. Fox, however, is unreadable as always, his emotions hidden behind the stoic facade of his helmet.
Thire clears his throat, stepping back. “I’ll, uh, leave you with the Commander.” He’s gone before you can protest, disappearing through the door with a suspiciously quick pace.
The silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a vibroblade. Fox stands rigidly near the cot, his arms folded across his chest. You can hear the faint tap of his boot against the durasteel floor as he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “How are you feeling?”
You shrug, regretting it immediately when the movement sends another sharp ache down your spine. “I’ve been better.”
His head tilts slightly, a gesture that might be concern. “You should’ve reported your injuries sooner.”
“You think I wanted to end up in here?” you counter, the bite in your voice softened by exhaustion.
Fox doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his broad frame almost casting a shadow over you. For a moment, you think he might argue. But his next words surprise you.
“You’re lucky,” he says almost quietly. “It could’ve been worse.”
There’s something in his tone—a rare softness that catches you off guard, even if it is for a moment. You both seem to snap out of whatever the hold that ensnared you both and you close your eyes, leaning back with a soft agreement of his words.
Fox pauses for a moment, then steps away. You crack one eye open, expecting him to be halfway out the door, but to your surprise, he returns moments later with a medical droid trailing behind.
You suddenly sit up straighter, tension rippling through you as the AZI droid glides closer, a stim injector held in one of its arms.
“I’m fine. I don’t need a droid to see me,” you declare quickly, glancing between the droid and Fox with what you hope is a convincing look of confidence. But Fox is already standing there, arms crossed, and his helmet tilts slightly in a way that screams ‘you’re not fine’.
“The patient requires an injection to reduce inflammation and prevent complications,” the droid announces, already grating on your nerves.
Your heart skips as the droid raises the injector, the gleam of the stim making your stomach twist. You instinctively lean back, trying to put more space between you and the advancing machine.
“No. I don’t want it,” you snap, panic slipping into your voice despite your best efforts.
Fox’s gaze shifts to you, then to the droid. He holds up a hand, “Stop.”
The droid halts mid-motion. “Commander, the patient requires—”
“I’ll handle it,” Fox says firmly.
Before you can process what’s happening, he steps forward and plucks the stim from the droid’s arm.
“What are you doing?” you ask apprehensively.
He doesn’t answer immediately, instead inspecting the stim injector with almost practiced ease. “You need this,” he says finally, his tone calm but resolute under the modulator. “If you don’t want the droid to do it, I will.”
Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you as he pulls a stool closer and sits beside the cot. He’s quiet, efficient, and unbothered by your flustered state as he rolls up the sleeve of your tunic. His gloved fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt through you that has nothing to do with the injection.
“This will only take a second,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost soothing. “Just relax.”
You nod stiffly, your pulse racing as he steadies your arm. The sharp pinch of the needle is over in a heartbeat, but the warmth of his proximity lingers far longer.
“There. All done.”
You exhale, tension slowly bleeding out of your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended.
But Fox doesn’t get up. Instead, his gaze shifts to your temple, where the bruising from the blow to your head.
“Let me take a look at that,” he says, leaving no room for argument.
You look at him, eyes wide. “It’s fine—”
“Sit up,” he interrupts, standing and motioning for you to move to the edge of the cot.
Reluctantly, you scoot forward, your legs dangling over the side as he steps closer.
Much closer.
He stands between your knees, his hands are surprisingly gentle as they cradle your face, tilting it slightly so he can get a better look at your wound.
The proximity makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly you’re begging he can’t hear it. His touch is careful, his thumbs brushing along your jaw as he examines the cut near your temple.
“This should’ve been cleaned properly,” he mutters under his breath “You clones are always too stubborn for your own good.”
“But i’m not a clone,” you mumble, your voice embarrassingly shaky even though his comment amused you.
“No,” he replies, glancing down at you for a moment. “But you’re just as stubborn.”
You open your mouth to retort, but the words die in your throat when he dips his head slightly, focusing on your injury with laser precision behind his visor. His presence is overwhelming, the sharp, clean scent of his armour mixing with something distinctly him.
“This might sting,” he warns, holding up a sterilising wipe.
You barely register the faint sting as he cleans the wound, too distracted by the way his hands move so deliberately, so gently. His thumbs brush against your skin again, steadying your head as he works, and you find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to.
“There,” he says after a moment, stepping back just enough to toss the used wipe onto the nearby tray. His hands linger on your jaw for a second longer before he finally lets go. “That should help.”
You glance up at him, your cheeks warm, and manage a small, “Thanks.”
He straightens, his imposing frame still far too close. “You need rest,” he says firmly, though his voice is softer than before. “No arguments.”
You nod, swallowing hard. “Got it. Rest. Sure.”
For a moment, neither of you move, the charged silence stretching between you.
For a moment, you don’t think about your actions. Perhaps it was the blow to your head that made you act in a certain way. As he was about to turn and leave, you reach out and grasp his wrist.
He looks back, his helmet adorably titling to the side as you gesture him to come back by pulling his arm. And he does.
“Thank you, Commander. You’ve… you have always been kind to me.”
Then, you lean up and rest your forehead to his, eyes closed. His visor made it a little difficult but you heard his shallow gasp pop through his modulator.
But, he doesn’t move back. He lets it happen and only moves when you finally break away, a soft and nervous smile on your lips.
“Thank you.”
“G-Get some rest.” Then, with a curt nod, Fox finally steps back, his presence still lingering long after he’s gone.
And as you lie back on the cot, staring at the ceiling, you can’t decide what’s more distracting: the ache in your head or the memory of his hands on your skin.
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